Millennia: Eye of the Storm

Chapters

1. Friends & Leisure
2. Readjustments
3. Field Week - Part I
6. Hearts & Hooves Day
7. Changing Times
8. Reminiscence
9. Deployment's Eve
10. Rough Seas
11. The Storm
12. Crisis - Part I
13. Crisis - Part II
14. Crisis - Part III
15. Rude Awakenings
16. Top of the World
18. Inspections
19. Blackout
20. Trials
21. Summer's Peak
22. Home, Where the Heart Is
23. Parental Control
24. Under the Weather
25. At Ease
26. Rites of Passage
27. Setting the Sail
28. Overboard
29. All Hooves - Part I
30. All Hooves - Part II
31. Discharge Disclosure
32. All Hooves - Part III
33. Open Wounds
35. Recalled
36. Peaceful Measures - Part I
37. Peaceful Measures - Part II
38. Peaceful Measures - Part III
39. I Have Demons
40. Vengeance
41. The Calm Before the Storm - Part I
42. The Calm Before the Storm - Part II
43. Into the Eye of the Storm - Part I
45. Into the Eye of the Storm - Part III
46. Into the Eye of the Storm - Part IV
47. Into the Eye of the Storm - Part V
48. The Battle for Manehattan - Part I
49. The Battle for Manehattan - Part II
50. Semper Fidelis
Prologue
4. Field Week - Part II
5. Like a Leaf in the Breeze
17. Silent Premonition
34. Some Time For Him
44. Into the Eye of the Storm - Part II

1. Friends & Leisure

Captain Shadow of the Lunar Navy,

Lance Corporal Star Shooter checking in as promised. It has only been approximately four days into medical leave, five or six by the time you read this most likely. Never so much have I desperately wanted to return to work. With Doctor Haywalker ordering I relax and not do anything vigorous during this time, it leaves me with absolutely nothing to do. What's worse is, I've already snapped on about three different ponies so far, and almost had the Royal Guard called on me because of it. I will keep trying to last the rest of the ten days—or eight by the time you receive this letter.

I will send one more letter next week to check in as well. Then, I will see you on the 20th.

Star Shooter

Lance Corporal

25th Battalion, 4th Marines

Lunar Marine Corps

Setting down the quill beside the paper, I looked over the letter one final time for any mistakes. After convincing myself it was good enough, I folded the paper carefully and tucked it away into an envelope, licking the tab to make it stick shut and writing Shadow's name on the opposite side. I would bring the letter to the local post office first thing in the morning before buying some more groceries. Today simply wasn't a day I wanted to be outside. The risk of snapping again was too great, not to mention my heart beating faster than normal since the moment I woke up early this morning. It felt as if my condition was deteriorating faster by the day. Just a few more days, I'd tell myself, not that it made much of a difference.

Once again I found myself resting on the couch with my head up against the armrest, tilted to face the flat screen and continuing to pay close attention to national weather reports. Was I really this boring when it came to watching television? It wasn't like I owned any movies that I hadn't watched over a hundred times either—literally.

This is what I get for joining the Marines, I muttered under my own breath. I wasn't one bit off, either.

A small snow shower had worked its way into the mountainside city and blocked the sun out for quite some time. The rate it came down wasn't severe but visibility definitely had been better beforehand. I watched the big flakes flutter down in endless clusters outside my window, adding to the accumulated frigid powder Canterlot collected in recent weeks. Despite the grayness of the sky and the chill of the breeze, it wasn't much similar to the rainy days I preferred, nonetheless relaxing. I let out a gentle breath and shifted a bit where I laid, closing my eyes but not to fall asleep.

Soon, the television was drowned out by total silence. I didn't keep the volume up too loud in case I intended to nap again and again during the day, even though that would screw up my already strange sleeping schedule. With sunlight not flooding the room, it was already too easy to doze off by accident. The moment was too peaceful—for once.

When my eyes reopened, everything was different. The ceiling of the living room was now replaced by a dark, gloomy sky with heavy flakes of snow raining down—except it wasn't snow. It was ashes. I looked off just slightly to my right, now staring down the lengthy Manehattan streets. Numerous buildings were damaged or abandoned, one of which had a small fire burning on the second floor. Paper and rocks were strewn everywhere I could see as I sat upright. Taxi carriages were carelessly parked in the middle of the street or flipped onto their sides, and some were completely destroyed. Where was I? This wasn't my apartment.

I shifted to push myself up on my hooves, pausing to look down toward my lap where in my hooves rested a scoped HK417, with my name engraved by knife into the handle. A cold breeze rushed past me as I looked over the weapon, moving it and reaching forward to cock it as a bullet remain popped out of the barrel, clinking on the asphalt to my side.

Rather than the light jacket I had on before, half unbuttoned, I was dressed top to bottom in-uniform of the Lunar Marines, gloves on my hooves for added weapon grip and a helmet strapped tightly on my head. On my back was a light backpack that matched the uniform. Despite the outward appearance, it was quite heavy, and gravity tried desperately to force me back down. With a soft grunt, I pushed myself up on all fours, rifle in one hoof as I continued to check my surroundings.

The street was remarkably quiet, and fully deserted. It was evident ponies had not been here for any longer than a day or two, the destruction less so. What ever had caused such a mass evacuation and chaos had to have been the reason why I was here. But, wasn't I just in my apartment?

A whoosh came quickly after a distant pop, followed by the light splatter of something extremely quick piercing flesh. A radiating pain exploded in my shoulder, and the force of what ever just struck me knocking myself back onto the cold street surface. With a yelp of surprise and shock, my eyes shut tightly and I winced at the constant stabbing. Reaching one hoof around and resting it on the wound, I moved it back out in front of me to look. The glove was completely covered in a red substance, and my shoulder spurted with even more blood. Had whatever hit me gone a bit further up, and I would be bleeding out from the neck. Who even did this?

The world around me was coming to a screeching halt. My heart pumped quickly and heavily in my chest, almost fast enough to explode it felt like. Within just a few moments, that was all I could register, and moments more later, the faint pops and whizzing of more bullets flying past caused me to tuck in and shield the vulnerable parts of my head. A hit to the hoof definitely beat one to the muzzle, or worse.

When I thought it was all over, more pain blew up in my side, close to my flank. I couldn't help but to scream out, the tears beginning to build up in my ducts and stream down my cheeks relentlessly. What I did not notice was the ground around my body pooling up with blood from either wounds. I still bled severely from my shoulder, and just this was making my vision blur from time to time as I struggled to remain conscious. The second hit would kill me faster. With how big these bullets felt as they pierced my skin and embed themselves deep inside, surely there was a sniper around here somewhere, likely taking aim for one final blow that would put me to sleep permanently.

That didn't happen. I didn't know what would. Too many outcomes were racing through my panicking mind, and even those became foggy with the blood loss. Not a word could be slipped out. Not a single cry for help. What would it do, anyways? No one was around. Even if there were other ponies nearby, what were the chances I would survive?

What if there were other ponies close, but they were the ones shooting at me? What if my fellow Marines were my enemies? What if they were trying to take me down to take me away for torture interrogation? Sure, I had been trained for it, although it wasn't my specialty.

There were too many what-ifs, and not nearly enough room to think them through. Or, more like, not enough time. I was still bleeding out. Incapacitating or death was all that could come next. What was even happening? I could have sworn I was laying down in my apartment. Was any of this real?

No, it had to be. The smell of death and open wounds, the heat of the blood gushing out, the pain of the torn flesh, the shooting from all around. It was too real.

"Hey, over here! We've got a man down!"

The shooting had ceased completely. The rustling of gear being shifted about and hooves quickly approaching was just hardly picked up by my gradually failing ears. I remained still as a statue on the ground, having slowed my breathing and forcibly my blinking as well. Blurry figures gathered around me, a couple kneeling and putting their hooves all over me. I winced two more times as I felt more sharp pain coming from either wounds being fiddled with, but in that instant, the bleeding had stopped, and the wounds had been filled up.

Next thing I knew, my limbs had been grabbed and body temporarily lifted off of the ground, before being set down onto a medical stretcher, and four uniformed ponies carrying me away.

"You're going to be okay," came a soft, gentle voice. It was almost soothing, and calming

With that, I closed my eyes, drifting off to sleep.

***

My eyes shot open and I sat up within the fraction of a second, breathing out heavily and panting with a hoof over my chest to make sure it was still beating. Within the brief panic, I felt the throb of my heart pumping quickly with the short breaths I took. Scanning around me, I took note of the television screen being completely black as it was turned off. At some point, it must have powered off, though I couldn't be sure when. What worried me the most was what in the hell had just happened. Nothing was wrong. It was another damn dream, I said to myself.

I reached behind to gently rub my neck, my sudden movements added with the position on the couch made it ache. I thought perhaps I should invest in another pillow to keep on the couch for these times when I unexpectedly fall asleep. Yes, that would be nice.

With my focus shifting to the clock on the wall, I squinted my eyes slightly to read the time. As it ticked, the longer hand snapped into position of nine-past-six. I eased myself back into the couch, but not before my stomach let off a low growl, signalling it was getting close to dinner time.

It was common sense that a pony doesn't run to the grocery store when they are hungry to avoid spending more than what they intend, although, my cabinets were a ghost town. A quick trip wouldn't do any harm, I hoped.

Wallet in-pocket and keys in-hoof, I sauntered out the door, into the chilly air, locking up the apartment behind me with a simple twist and a click of the lock with the key. Pocketing my house key and turning to walk down the steps, one thing that caught my attention most was that the sky was in all sorts of colors, ranging from the blues to the oranges—except they were in the wrong place.

Rather than the west where the sun set, the different assortment and arrangement of color rested in the eastern sky. Nopony walked the streets, either, aside from one or two here and there, completely dressed up like eskimos or something of that nature. Did the world start spinning the other way?

No, wait. It was morning. Stupid me, I must have slept from yesterday afternoon to six in the morning! I couldn't help but to press my hoof to my forehead and groan with exhaustion mixed with embarrassment. On the plus side, I had a full nights rest, for once.

Shaking off the thought of mistaking dawn for dusk, I trotted carefully down the icy streets in the direction of the Canterlot grocery market. Most ponies including myself preferred the Outdoor Market, albeit it remained shut down from October through late-February and sometimes into mid-March, depending on what the weather is like. The store remained open year-round, minus holidays, and had as much of a variety as the Outdoor market, even though things costed a bit or two more.

Rounding a corner, there sat the grocery store, glimmering slightly in the early-morning sunlight and sidewalks completely salted with no worries of slipping and falling when walking in and out. The sun was the only light, however. Stepping up to the door, I gently tried to open it, only for them not to budge. Locked.

"Damn, they must not be open yet," I muttered, sighing. Glancing over, I read the print on the glass door, the hours on Sunday were much different—and the store didn't open until almost eight.

My stomach growled again, and I lightly began tapping my forehead on the center of the two doors, groaning as I did so. I'd have no choice but to come back later. For now, however, I needed to eat something. With disappointment, I turned gradually away from the front doors of the store and made my way further down the street, bent on finding a cafe or restaurant that wasn't closed this early.

Soon, I found myself closer to the Canterlot Palace, in the commercial center of the city where cafes and restaurants sat just about anywhere you go. Unfortunately for me, however, none of which had their signs flipped to welcome ponies. With that, I started back toward home, hoping I would come across something.

Eventually, I did. At the end of the block was a cafe with the sign lit up in the window. It didn't appear too busy, either. What made me so hesitant and stop to think if I even wanted to go in, was because it is the very cafeteria I unloaded on an innocent pony in line yesterday. But wait a minute, that was in a dream. It couldn't have been real, could it? My stomach's desperate pleas for food and the light tremble of my body lacking energy reminded me of why I was out this early in the morning.

Giving a sigh, I strolled up to the door and pulled on the handle, swinging the door outward and stepping into the toasty shop. My body shivered the cold off, and ice that had built up on my flank or wings melted off, if there was any at all. But then, I froze, and not in the cold sense. Standing beside the counter was a taller white earth pony in Royal guard armor, completely polished down to the very shoes. I hoped he was waiting on an order as I stood in line.

I felt my muscles lock and harden, keeping my gaze set on the pony in front of me rather than having them dart off to the side and accidentally make eye contact with the guard. All the while, in my mind, I questioned being nervous numerous times. He was a city guard. As long as I wasn't breaking the law, he wouldn't tackle and cuff me... I hope.

Throughout the wait, which felt like ages, my mind kept telling me that everypony was staring, waiting for a sudden outburst, preparing for that side to come back and bark in somepony's face. Maybe that's why it was so quiet. Maybe that's why the guard was here.

"Sir?"

I snapped out of my trance of thought and back into reality, heart briefly racing. My focus shifted to the pony at the counter, watching with a brow furrowed. "Y-yes?"

"Are, uh... are you ready to take your order, or are you still deciding?"

My pupils shrunk slightly. How long was I standing there? I couldn't be sure. Slowly looking to my left, I noticed the guard briefly glance at me but otherwise not move. With a gulp, my hooves brought me up to the counter.

"Two bagels, cream cheese, and a coffee. Black."

"Of course, sir. Coming right up!" The pony smiled, trotting into the small kitchen to prepare my order. The poor stallion was here by himself running the place. Only three others were in there and already received their orders, so at least he wasn't stressed out from the looks of it—and thank Luna it wasn't the same cashier as yesterday.

"Are you military?" Came a voice to the left.

My focus shifted to the guard, blinking twice. "Come again?" I asked politely.

"Are you a military member?" The guard asked, staring slightly down at me. He was, after all, a few inches taller.

Blinking again, I nodded after a short pause. "Yes, I am. Why do you ask?" By now, my heart pumped quicker.

"Hmm..." The stallion narrowed his gaze, causing me to tense up even more than previously. "You don't look military aside from your coat. What branch?"

Oh boy, here we go. "Lunar Marine Corps."

The guard was silent for a few seconds. "My brother just enlisted in the Lunar Navy a couple of months ago. I questioned it and said he should join the Royal Guard, but he's stubborn as ever," he stopped and stood up a bit more straight. "If you run into him, I suggest you watch your back."

My head tilted. "Why?"

The guard's eyes darted side to side, and he leaned closer. "Don't drop a soap bar, and you should be fine."

I could have sworn I told somepony those exact words once. Oh, yeah. Nightpath. My face turned a light shade of red, and I nodded slowly with a chuckle. "Will do."

The guard nodded once, returning to his original posture. As he did, I turned back forward where the cashier still had not returned with my order. Maybe he was new and didn't know how to work the toaster or something. My attention was once again grabbed, this time by a hoof tapping me on the shoulder gently. Deep down, I hoped it wasn't that pony from yesterday.

Turning around, I saw a gold pegasus with a winter vest on and a scarf around his neck. He gave a warm smile, walking around to my side.

"Hey there," he said.

Confusion hit me for a split second as I blinked. "Ray?"

"The one and only. Well, Ray Blitz, that is. Anyways, I didn't expect to see you here. Whatcha doing out so early?"

"Breakfast?" My head tilted. "I should ask you the same question," I added.

The pegasus let out a chuckle, putting his hoof on my shoulder. "The work of a voice actor never ceases. I'm in Canterlot for the next few days, as it turns out. The place in Silvertail Summit is closing down, so my work is being moved here temporarily, so to speak. I just got into town, and apparently even the coffee shop at the train station isn't open this early. So, here I am!" He grinned big.

I lifted an eyebrow, giving a slow nod. "I see."

The pony kept his smile, turning forth to the counter as the cashier returned with a cup of piping hot coffee.

"My apologies, sir. I'm afraid the bagel machine isn't turned on, so it may be a few more minutes for it to heat up. I'm so terribly sorry," he said with a look of concern, trotting back to work with the machine.

I let out a grumble and rubbed my forehead with a hoof gently. So much for fast food.

"Hey, are you okay?" Ray asked.

I glanced over to look at him. "What?"

"You don't seem like yourself," he said. His smile was completely gone.

"How would you know? We've only met once," I replied with a rather cold tone.

The pegasus recoiled slightly. "Right, but... You weren't like this when we met."

"Different circumstances." I looked forward again.

"Star, don't give me that. I know it's early in the morning, and most ponies I know well hate being up at six-thirty, but I assume you're well-accustomed to being up around this time. What's wrong?"

"Why is it any of your concern? You said we should get together again sometime back in Whitetail, and this is not how I imagined it. Now, if you would please, back off and give me some personal space, then this won't turn into a problem," I tried my best not to raise my voice.

The guard shifted his focus to the both of us, watching carefully. I just so happened to notice, eyes widening. With a gulp, and a deep exhale, I looked back to the golden pegasus and made gentle eye contact.

"I'm sorry."

"Wow..." Ray's ears had fallen back slightly, and he put his bottom lip out. Quite frankly it was one of the saddest faces I've ever seen on a stallion. "I'm sorry," then he stepped back behind me.

"I... no, don't apologize. I need to control my anger."

"No, I get it. Touchy subject. I won't bug you about it. I was being too persistent, anyways," Ray replied softly. "And besides, this isn't exactly the best of places to discuss these things. But... I do have one question."

I slowly looked up at him from my hooves. "Hmm?"

"I know you're on leave, but, do you have anything going on tonight?"

My head lowered slightly. "No..."

"Hmm... How about, later on, we go out and do stuff, like see a movie or something?" Ray smiled warmly.

"Not... go out and see one. How about... we watch one at my place?" I suggested, staring at him with still some concern plastered on my face.

"What's wrong with goin—oh." Ray then nodded. "Your place it is, then."

"I don't know..."

"What don't you know?"

"We barely know each other, and... well, don't you think it's kind of weird that we're jumping straight to hanging out?"

Ray shrugged. "No better way to get to know each other, I suppose. You seem like a cool stallion to befriend."

My eyes shifted back up from the floor a second time as I straightened my neck to make direct eye contact with Ray. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That little... outburst."

The stallion moved his hoof up to my shoulder. "We can talk about that later, if you want to, that is."

"I'll consider it, another time though. But for tonight, I'll make dinner, and we can watch a movie."

"Sounds perfect," Ray smiled more. "But, you don't have to cook. I can bring snacks if you'd like."

"No, no. I'm cooking."

"But—"

"Hush! I'm cooking."

"Fine, you win. Then it's settled. I'll be over at six. Where's your place at?"

"North Canterlot. Second floor above Lilli's Flower Boutique, stairs are on the side of the building. The shop is on east Platten Street, and the whole building is colored green, so it shouldn't be hard to find."

Ray nodded, smiling slightly more. "Should I bring a movie?"

"No, no," I waved a hoof. "I have lots. You'll believe it when you see the tub of them."

Ray chuckled. "Alright, then it's settled. But, I get to pick a movie, alright?"

I nodded. "Of course."

"Sir?"

Turning around to face the counter, I looked at the cashier. "Your bagels are ready."

***

Did I agree to some sort of date from Ray? No, of course not, we're just hanging out. What even happened?!

Right, right. It's completely normal. It was nice knowing I could spend the evening with somepony else and talk to them. This would be a slight milestone, even for me, considering the majority of my friends were ponies I worked with. To make a new friend outside of the military would be nice for a change.

A quick run to the grocery store as soon as it opened later, I began preparing for the evening. My apartment hardly ever had any kind of mess, aside from the occasional pileup of dishes yet to be washed. Thankfully that wasn't the case as it granted something to keep myself occupied for the time being.

I'd also hoped my instructions were clear enough to Ray. I would hate for the poor stallion to get lost and give up. Then again, it wasn't like North Canterlot was a big area. The city itself rested on a slab of land two and a half miles long, and three-quarters of a mile wide. Where my apartment was rested right on the edge of some of the residential parts of town, though still considered to be in the commercial districts.

Hours passed, and with everything put away and the place smelling nice and fresh, I rested on the couch, watching the clock tick closer to six. It would be up to the guest to decide what he's hungry for, and if worse came to worst, I could cook two separate meals to satisfy us both—assuming I could even cook what he would be interested in.

When came a gentle knock on the front door, I stood up off of the cushion and sauntered to the door, twisting the lock with a slight click and opening with a welcoming smile. "Hey."

"Hey, Star," Ray grinned. "How have you been?"

"It's only been a few hours, Ray," I blinked, then stepped off to the side. "Come on in."

"Thank you," he nodded once and entered. "Nice place, very spacious!"

"I wouldn't call it spacious, but thank you," I smiled, shutting the door, then noticing two greasy-bottomed paper bags on his back. "Ray, I said I would cook!"

"Too bad, I picked us up some hayburgers. I got yours plain," Ray grinned still.

With a slight grumble, I trotted over to him as he set the bags down. "Well, thank you. But seriously, I was going to cook tonight. I was going to let you decide what you wanted."

Ray shrugged, taking a seat on the couch. "I didn't want to pressure you. Besides, you're trying to relax, aren't you? It should be me cooking for you."

"Too much relaxation is a thing, too," I said, sitting beside Ray and pulling the food out of the bag. "Ah, fried food. It's been so long."

"I take it you don't eat out much?" Ray asked just prior to taking a bite of his burger.

"Depends. I really only eat out when I don't have food in the apartment. That, or I'm too lazy to cook, which even then is rare. Plus, I've got to keep a steady diet and avoid gaining too much weight," I paused to take a bite, continuing after swallowing the chewed-up mush down. "Hell, I lost probably thirty pounds in basic."

"They really work you down to the bone, don't they?" Ray looked at me and continued to eat.

I nodded at that. "Multiple laps around a track, a ton of push-ups, ruck runs, you name it. Although, I think they skipped swimming because it was getting too cold outside."

"I wouldn't say that. I used to know a pony who they made swim in the middle of December for a week. Two hours per session. He made it, though," Ray sighed.

Shifting my focus to him, I blinked twice. "What happened to him?"

"Well," he shifted a bit. "He just moved away, and we broke contact. He said he was planning on going off the grid and laying low. I knew it had something to do with his mind. When he was away, he ended up coming home early because somepony cut his leg off in captivity."

I shuddered at that thought. "How did he escape?"

"He was rescued, I guess. Somehow another squadron found him and he had to go through serious medical procedures and rehabilitation en-route home. The last time I saw him was the second time after he returned. By then, he just had a plastic prosthetic developed by a Lunar guard who went through a similar fate, ironically. I forget his name, though..." Ray shrugged. "Oh well."

"That's quite the story. I'm... rather shocked he shared it with you. Typically, soldiers aren't willing to talk about those kinds of things unless they really trust the pony they're talking to," I looked down. "I should know."

"Hey." Ray put a hoof on my shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up. If something is haunting you, ponies have no business trying to make you relive it, including me. If you ever want to talk about anything, that's up to you."

Staring down at my food, I nodded once, then took a bite, remaining silent for the moment.

"Now, changing the subject," the golden pegasus began, crumpling up the wrapper of his burger and stuffing it back into the bag. "Why don't we get to know each other more?"

***

"Man, you have a lot of action movies. Not the biggest collection I've ever seen, though. How do you ever get bored?"

I shrugged, sitting back on the couch while Ray dug through a neat bin of movie cases. "Most of those I've seen too many times to count at this point, so I lay off for a short while, you know?"

"I see." He said, still searching. "Oh, how about this one?" Ray asked, pulling a case out of the decent-sized box, with a military helicopter on the cover along with a few soldiers in the shot as well.

"Grey Eagle Down? Sure, why not?" I stood up, walking to the kitchen to make quickly popcorn before it starts. "Put her in."

The yellow pegasus trotted to the television stand, opening the case and inserting the silver-reflective disk into the small black box on a lower shelf, while in the kitchen, a bag of dry corn kernels popped in the microwave, inflating simultaneously as it was nuked. Ray returned to the sofa, taking a seat and waiting for me to follow suit.

A minute and a half later, the microwave beeped, and opening the door, my hoof reached inside to pull the steaming, puffed-up bag out. Cautiously, I tore one end open, avoiding the scalding steam as it rose up to the ceiling, then dumping the contents into a decent-sized bowl for me and Ray to share.

Looping a hoof around the bowl, I walked out of the kitchen and to the couch, sitting down beside Ray with the bowl on the coffee table, munching on one single piece of the sweet yet salty snack, before bringing up, "Hey, want me to turn off the lights?"

"Go right ahead!" Ray smiled with a bit of excitement, sitting back.

I stood up once more, just hardly moving to the light switch where with two single flicks, every light in the room went dark, much like an actual movie theater. Once I'd re-seated myself, the movie began.

The two of us focused on the screen as it faded to white. Faintly, ashes floating down became gradually visible, following the movie's title. Soon came a deep, orchestral background track, and far above what turned out to be a desert flew a pair of grey-painted helos, too distant from the camera to make much out. In the distance as the camera panned to the left was a currently unknown city with faint traces of smoke rising skyward.

Inside one of the helicopters piloted two uniformed ponies, heads and faces mostly covered by their helmets and visors. Behind the cockpit, in the closed passenger bay, sat six more ponies in uniform, a mare and five stallions, albeit having far different clothing than the pilots. All sat strapped into their jump seats and armed with modified combat rifles, all silent as they prepared to be dropped off for landing.

Briefly I peeked over to Ray, who watched curiously while reaching forward to the bowl to eat some popcorn. At least he was paying attention to the movie. With that, I glanced back toward the screen.

The first helicopter branched off from the other, descending toward the town and kicking up a miniature dust storm the rotors created. Both doors on the side opened, and the soldiers hopped out, weapons drawn and keeping an eye out for any ambushers or attackers that may be nearby. The mare shouted 'clear!', leading the small squadron into an abandoned building as the helicopter lifted back off into the sky.

Entering the building, they shouted and called for anyone hiding to come out. As they did, however, bullets flew just about everywhere, one striking a pony in the shoulder and making him dive into cover to tend to the wound while the other soldiers fired back blindly. The dust thrown around by the helicopter's touch and go lingered in the air, deteriorating visibility even in the structure.

Ray continued to watch intensely, slowly eating a bit more popcorn and taking a sip of water from his glass. I watched as well, having a slight grin that crossed my muzzle. As the gunfight intensified, however, it began to fade away slowly. A very gentle breeze swept across my chest, orbiting around my body to my spine. Slowly moving my gaze down, I looked at my chest, just hardly noticing the coat pumping just a little bit faster than usual.

Reaching a hoof up, gently I rubbed my chest where the heart was, feeling as it beat quicker and quicker. What was going on? Something clearly wasn't right. My heart kept beating harder and faster, and eventually, I began to take brief breaths rather than long, slow ones. Glancing back up to the television, I saw bullets pecking at the corner, embedding themselves deep into the stone and chipping off some bits of wall, whilst the two sides shot at each other.

Just then, my mind flashed. Thoughts, memories, and nightmares. They were all racing past, not as if I was watching my life flash before my eyes, this was way different. After a couple of long, terrifying moments, it hit me. It was a panic attack.

I relaxed back into the couch, hoof over my chest as it heaved in and out due to the breaths I took. Not once had I noticed Ray look over with concern. My pupils had shrunk to pinpricks the more they focused on what was happening in the movie. Gunshots rang through my mind, the voices of orders being given to fall back and take cover echoing. Please, make it stop, I whispered to myself.

"Star."

Make it stop... Make it all go away... Please... Why can't anypony hear me?

"Star..."

Everything turned out okay. Why do you keep coming back? Why won't you leave me be?! I did not do anything wrong. I didn't do anything to deserve this!

"Star!"

Gasping deeply in shock and sitting upright, I began to pant rather heavily, hoof still over the heart. My head slowly turned, eyes setting on Ray as he stared directly at me, hooves on my shoulder. He looked quite possibly just as scared as I was.

"W-what the hell... just happened?"

"I'd like to ask you the same question... Are you okay?"

"I... think so. I don't know what that was." I lied to keep him calm. Reaching forward, I grabbed the remote to pause the movie, laying back against the sofa cushion.

Still staring with concern, Ray scooted a bit closer. "It almost looked like you were in a completely different dimension."

"You think so?" I slowed my breathing gradually.

Ray nodded, then after a pause, he replied. "Yeah. Was it—" he stopped again. "I won't ask. But..."

I looked at him again, slowly.

"We can change the movie, if... that's it. And... uh, I don't want you to think of me as weird, but... Would you like a hug?"

I blinked twice. A hug? Nopony has ever offered that before, other than my mother. That was years ago. Yes, maybe a hug would do.

"Yes, please..." I replied with slight desperation in my tone.

Ray's hooves slipped around from behind, pulling my entire body closer and against his chest, even slightly moving my own head down enough for him to rest his chin in my mane. I sighed quietly, resting against him willingly into the stallion's embrace. It was more than comforting, really.

"You're trembling..." Ray muttered, not budging.

I nodded at that. "I know."

"I won't let go until you ask me to. Even then, I might not."

"Whatever you say." I replied, closing my eyes.

I'd actually given in to be held by another stallion somewhat like a mother would with her foal. I'd forgotten what that was like, too. But, that was beyond the point. Ray was there for me. Rose would have been, also, I'm sure, albeit it would feel different. As my focus drifted back into reality, a hoof gently stroked and brushed through my mane, nice and slowly.

For some strange reason, it felt like Ray had been experienced with this in some sort of way. Perhaps he did this to his other friends when they experienced depression or anxie—no, it couldn't have been that. I mean, maybe.

"You know..." Ray spoke softly and quietly. "I like you, Star."

That too. "You do?"

Ray gave a gentle nod, still stroking the strands of blue hair with his hoof. "You're actually kind of adorable."

With that, my cheeks, I felt, began to heat up. "I am not..."

"You are."

"No, I'm not."

"Just, be quiet and accept it."

"Ray..."

"Shhh."

"O-okay..." I stopped, closing my eyes once more.

"I apologize if this is getting too weird for you..."

"No, no, it isn't. Trust me."

Ray let out a gentle breath or sigh, grazing the tips of my ears with it. "And I understand if you—" he stopped.

...

"If I what?"

"If you... don't... lean that way."

"Lean what way?"

"You know."

At first I didn't. My mind remained to be in minor chaos from the attack. The majority of my thoughts were spastic and blurred. It took maybe a minute or two to comprehend what he was saying, and all I could say was...

"Maybe I do."

What was I saying? I didn't. I couldn't.

"You do?"

"Maybe... I don't know." No, mouth, stop it—wait a minute, don't stop. I don't know!

"You don't know what you fall for?"

"I do and I don't."

"Could you maybe explain a tad better?"

Damn it. "I like mares. I don't like stallions... too much." What the hell did I even mean by too much?

"I see."

"Yeah."

"Well..." Ray raised his head a little to look down at me. "Would you ever see yourself dating a stallion? Marrying one?"

Did I? Not exactly. Marriage was a definite no. Dating, possibly, maybe to see how it was. It couldn't be much different from dating a mare, I believe. I wouldn't know for sure. I needed to be honest.

"Probably... not."

"So, you're confused?"

"...Maybe. I don't know. Please, stop asking."

"Alright. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, we're getting to know each other. Maybe... a little sooner than we should on some thoughts."

What on earth did I mean by that? I just met Ray not too long ago. What thoughts would be too soon to be thinking of? What was my brain even doing?!

"What are you saying?" Ray blinked, resting his hoof in the center of my mane.

"I... don't know. My mind is all over the place. Can... you possibly stay a little bit longer?"

"Is that what you want?"

I nodded. I really did want him to stay.

"Alright, then I'll stay," he smiled warmly, leaning forward and nuzzling my forehead gently.

Maybe cuddling with a stallion wasn't so bad after all.

***

Looking up at the Equestrian flag waving slowly in the breeze, I let out a single breath and nodded to myself. It was good to be back. After dropping my bag off at the barrack, I made my way across the base to one of the smaller office buildings around the tiny plaza in the southwest sector, near the building with the second lieutenant's office, as well as my commanding officer's.

Pausing at the door and pressing a small button beside the handle, patiently I waited for the click of the lock and trotted inside. For security, this building required somepony to look through a camera above the door to determine to let the pony in or not. Where their room was remained to be beyond my knowledge.

One flight of stairs and a slow walk down yet another hallway later, I stopped before a brown wooden door, and in fine silver plaque in dead center above eye-level, read Psychiatrist Doctor Haywalker, exactly where I wanted to be.

Lifting a hoof and knocking twice, inside came the voice I wanted to hear.

"Come on in."

With a deep breath, my hoof took the handle and twisted, pushing inwards and stepping through the doorway.

"Good afternoon, doc."

The sky-blue unicorn shifted his focus up from the file he was reading. He closed that, setting it down on his desk and giving a warm, welcoming smile. "Ah, Star. Please, have a seat. How did leave treat you?"

"Like shit." Honesty is the best policy. "Boring as all hell."

"Well, no denying those words," he chuckled. "Though I imagine it was boring in a good way?"

I nodded in response. "No doubt. I stayed in my apartment much of the time."

"That is good to hear," he said, taking out a pen. "Now, how about we talk for a bit?"

"Of course."

"Then let's get started."

Author's Note

Since the first chapters are pre-written, I'm simply copying and pasting them here. :twilightsmile:

2. Readjustments

Doctor Haywalker began writing down with a pen on some blank paper in a magical grip. "How often did you leave your home?"

"Maybe once every other day, just to walk or get food. Nothing more."

"What about leaving against your will?"

"What? No. I only left when I needed to."

"Mhm, right," he took note of that as well. "Any abnormalities?"

"Abnormalities?" I froze to think for a second. "A few."

"Name them for me."

"Dreams, nightmares, some of which extremely vivid and painful."

"Painful?"

"Yes."

"Anything else?"

"Panic attacks, outbursts, most of which on household objects, but the rest were on ponies."

"I see. What else?"

"What else?" I stopped. "That's it."

The doctor eventually finished writing down, then continued once more. I waited a few moments before I decided to speak up.

"So, Doc, what are your thoughts?" I asked politely, sitting across the desk from the sky-blue unicorn stallion in his on-base office.

"Hmm..." He pondered, looking at a report and shifting his gaze between that and myself, before finally resting his eyes on my own to make contact. "My thoughts are that this could possibly be escalating. You are in your early twenties, yes?"

"I'm nineteen, actually, sir," I replied to correct him.

This made his eyes widen. "Nineteen?"

"What's wrong?" I tensed slightly.

The doctor sat back in his chair, putting his hooves together and letting out a deep sigh, not once breaking eye contact.

"Star Shooter, I am very much afraid that I may need a second opinion. You see..." He trailed off, then exhaled slowly through his nostrils. "I need to refer you to one of my colleagues in the city. I now have an idea of what it is that you are going through, but after what you have just explained to me thoroughly, I may not be as much of a help to you, but with some help, we might get an advantage.

"You see, I'm more used to the older stallions coming to me for mental help. It's far less common to have somepony in their teenage years walk in seeking aid."

I eased myself gently in my seat. "Oh..." Was all I said in response.

"I am terribly sorry, Lance Corporal. You may still come to me to fill me in and keep me up to date on what's happening in your current state, but... my colleague may quite possibly be the only pony who can provide some help." The doctor replied in the most honest tone.

"So, I am screwed. Is that what you're telling me?"

"No, no. Here, I will write down the information. The mare's name is Pastel, her office is in downtown Manehattan, close to where they are constructing that new super-tower," Doctor Haywalker explained, taking a pen and writing down on a small piece of paper. "Here's the address and the name of the place. I'll be in contact with her to let her know I'm sending you over there."

The unicorn handed the piece of paper to me and I took it gently, looking over the information briefly and tucking it away into my pocket, nodding once. "Thank you, Doc."

"Don't thank me, she's the one to talk to. I'm sorry once more that I could only do so much."

"Hey, no worries. I will head over there once I get the time. I really do appreciate it and I can't thank you enough," I gave a gentle smile.

The doctor nodded once, sitting upright again. "Then I suppose that is all. You are dismissed, Marine."

***

It felt good to be back on base. For once, it was sunny in Manehattan as well, and the temperature was rising. I suppose after months of cloudy weather almost all the way through, it was too easy to fall accustomed to the gloominess. Canterlot didn't have many of those days which was rather shameful, aside from the middle of winter. Either way, something about them was comforting. It might have to do with the whole less-light-equals-better-sleep kind of thing.

Not long would it take for spring come about, too. That meant rainy days ahead. Still, the spring solstice remained to be a good two and a half months in the future, even then, the snow could linger. That wouldn't surprise me when it comes to Manehattan.

The sunlight meant more ponies out and about as well. After leaving the doctor's office, there were noticeably more Marines and sailors walking about or on their patrol duties. Speaking of patrol, I'd remembered it would be a good idea to check with Halberd, or whoever was doing what I usually do along the wall. For once, I didn't mind standing out in the sunlight as long as it isn't too warm. It beats sitting inside with absolutely nothing to do.

My hooves took me from one end of the base to the other, to the eastern wall and where me and Halberd's station was. Up top rested a small booth where ponies could warm themselves up or answer phone calls if somepony orders them to be somewhere, such as inspection or briefings.

Stopping at the bottom of the wall, I lifted a hoof to my mouth, attempting to whistle. All that came out was spit and sputtering noises.

"Damn it," I set my hoof back down. "Hey, Halberd! You up there?" I called.

From atop, a dark brown stallion peeked his head over the edge, speaking with a clear local accent. "He is not. Who's askin'?"

"Just his buddy back from leave. He still on night shift?"

The pony nodded. "Yeh. He's not on duty 'til nine. Whatcha want?"

"Oh, just checking. I would hate to replace the replacement. The hawk's too nice and of course it happens to be the day I'm not supposed to be on duty."

"Well, ah'm enjoyin' it. Be my guest if ya want t'be up here, too, but ya better get some warm clothes on, just in case!"

"Nah, I'll pass. Sergeant will chew us both for two guarding the same post. Thanks, though. Have a nice one," I waved a hoof, turning tail and trotting away.

"Yeh, you too, Marine!" He called from behind, returning to his patrol.

Yawning softly, I began the short return to the barrack. Realistically it was the only option. Without work for the day, relaxing seemed to be something I'd have to live with for another day—as if I hadn't enough already.

Reaching a hoof into one of the pockets, I took out a single copper key and stuck it into the barrack room's lock, ear perking at the click it made and pushing the door open, into the warmer room.

This was probably ten times worse. At least in my apartment I could watch television, or listen to music, or do something. Here we had none of that. Just beds, a shower, and a little kitchen with no food in it except for a couple of unopened noodle cups.

Perhaps a nap would do, even though it would completely screw up my already-wonky body clock. It's not like it could get much worse. Or maybe it could. I don't really care anymore.

I plucked the uniform buttons open, slipping out of the jacket and hanging it on the bottom bed post sloppily. Leaving just a night-blue t-shirt on, I flopped down onto the bed chest-first, letting out a groan as my body melted into the mattress. From there felt all too much like paradise—if paradise was made up of beds.

...

Of course it had to! Beds were true paradise, where ponies could relax and escape their stresses for as long as their bodies decided to remain in a slumber. Then again, everybody slept differently. That included myself.

The only issue was, falling asleep was easier said than done. At least, as of lately. It seemed to depend on body positioning and some sort of algebraic mathematics only the smartest of all ponies could understand. Hell, Princess Twilight Sparkle could probably explain the concept flawlessly.

After what seemed like an eternity, everything went black and I drifted off to sleep, entering a realm of total darkness. Maybe I wouldn't have a nightmare this time. Hopefully I won't.

Looking around carefully, nothing could be seen. Literally nothing. Perchance this was one of those sessions where there were no dreams. Nothing apart from bland blackness for minutes to come.

Something landed on my nose. Blinking at its very touch, my hoof reached up slowly and wiped the blurred entity from my muzzle, holding it out to examine. A single, simple flake of ash rested in my bare hoof. Another briefly caught onto my mane, then fell past my eye to the ground.

My eyes moved to the ground, hoof lowering. More ashes floated down from the black sky above. Gradually I began to look ahead of me to see them coating the stone like snow. Before I knew it, papers began falling down as well, the rustling of one as it floated to my side startling me. I turned, picking up the paper to read.

Blank.

Another fell, this time to my left. I picked that up, too.

Blank again.

More and more began floating down around me. Looking up, I could see why.

Damage from high rise buildings all around made it clear that some sort of explosion was causing them to fall down in a paper-rain. Debris such as broken bits of glass, twisted steel beams, and shattered or cracked bricks lined the cobble street all around.

Looking forward, my eyes moved up a large unfinished glass office tower, panes broken and small fires burning away in them. The large sign above the lobby flickered a light blue, sparks falling down as it eventually shut off due to lack of power.

My ear swiveled, catching on to the distant sound of automatic gunshots, making me jump and raise the rifle in my hoof suspiciously. More gunshots, followed by an explosion, the shock wave rattling the whole city around and even my very body.

Turning to look behind, a rising column of smoke dominated the sky. When the dust settled, the silhouette of a high rise structure tilting over off in the distance and disappearing into a cloud of dust and debris was all to be seen.

Why this place again? Why am I here?

Someone or something was bringing me here. Why were the dreams so vivid? So many questions, too little time. Any second, and I would be awake again—wait, did I just say awake? What's going on? Is this reality or not?

BOOM

My eyes shot wide open and breath escaped my lungs momentarily as I struggled to catch it. A hoof rested on my chest gently. Looking down, I realized it was my own. It held against the metal dog tags, attaching beaded chain looped around my neck. Lifting the tags in my hoof, the wording engraved in the stainless steel shone light back, reading my name, rank, and squadron.

I shifted my gaze to the small digital clock resting on the nightstand, reading it as four past three in the afternoon, meaning I hadn't slept for all too long and still meant plenty of sunlight left to waste. Doing so, as said before, would be tricky. Then, a thought came to mind.

Maybe I should check out that psychologist.

***

The carriage ride wasn't nearly as long as usual. Then again, a lot of ponies were still getting settled after the attacks and there was not as much traffic on the streets. This helped considering the office hours of the place remained to be unknown, and likely chances were that it closed after at least six.

I checked the street address on the card Doctor Haywalker gave earlier over and over again, also remembering his words about the building being located near a construction site for a new tower. Despite its size, it remained to be blocked by Manehattan's short-but-still-tall structures. I trusted the driver on arriving without a hitch, however.

We came to a halt, and I glanced up from the card to look around, the carriage puller speaking up.

"This is the place," he said in a thick eastern Equestria accent.

My eyes scanned over both sides of the street, keeping vigilant for a sign pointing to a psychology office. The street was rather narrow and was actually quite darkened due to the fact of a taller building's shadow nearby looming over it. I furrowed a brow, looking down to him.

"Are you sure?"

"Hey, this is the exact street, and the address should be right here. What're ya lookin' for exactly?"

"Pastel Psychology Offices."

"You could try one of the alleyways, it might be hidden back there."

An alleyway? In Manehattan? Was this guy nuts?!

"Alright, thank you. I'll look there." I'd said in response, paying him the right amount for the trip before hopping out. Apparently, I was just as nuts.

As he pulled away, I began walking into a wider alley, darkened by surrounding buildings and shadows of taller ones. Electrical wires hung above, stringing between the brick structures. Many half-empty trash cans rested against the walls, one knocked over with some garbage lying about in my path.

With a scoff, my hoof reached down to scoop it all back into the dirtied steel can, lifting it back upright and shaking the hoof to get any remaining filth off. The last thing I'd want is to have some sort of disgusting piece of rotting food or something that could make me sick to the touch remaining on myself.

Sighing, I continued down through the alley, passing a dim flickering light and entering a wider area with a couple of back doors and staircases to the surrounding buildings where trash and other things were brought out—and possibly also where ponies have been robbed before, because contrary to popular belief in Equestria, Manehattan wasn't the nicest of cities. In the streets, maybe. The underground was another story—and I didn't mean the subway either.

Eventually, something did catch my eye. In the weak sunlight toward the end of the alleyway, near the dead end, read a sign lit in red and tan with a heart beneath. Taking the card out of my pocket, I took a glimpse at it, then back up at the sign. This was the place, and luckily still open.

Stepping up the small concrete stairs, I took the doorknob in my hoof and pushed inward. My expectations were that it was going to be all a scam and be a slummy criminal hideout of some sort. Boy, was I ever wrong.

Opening the door, the first thing I took note of was the scent of fresh mandarins and apples from some candles burning on the receptionist's desk, more of which on tiny wooden shelves hanging around the room.

The main waiting area was just as expected: simple pictures on the walls of architecture, scenery, and everything in between. Some chairs sat lined against two of the walls with small tables between them, magazines resting on them. It was the most basic of waiting rooms, although, the lighting created by the candles made it soothing and welcoming.

"Hello, sir!" Came a squeaky mare's voice to the side.

Blinking, my eyes met those of a smaller mare, sitting at the desk with her hooves crossed and a warm smile across her muzzle.

"H-hello," I stuttered a bit, stepping up to the desk.

"Are you here for an appointment?"

"I... well, not an appointment. Just... checking this place out is all," I glanced around, studying the room.

"Oh, I see! Well, would you like for me to set you up for an appointment with Doctor Pastel?"

Again, I blinked. "Is she in office right now?"

"Of course!"

"Is it possible that I could meet her and schedule something later?"

"Hmm... I will have to ask her. Wait here, please!"

Just like that, the little mare was gone, darting through a door and shutting it rather loudly. I winced, shrugging it off and waiting as told.

Within a moment's notice, the mare came back out and seated herself at the desk. "Doctor Pastel has requested you give her a few minutes, then you two shall talk."

"Alright. Thank you, ma'am."

The mare giggled, nodding.

"Have trouble finding us?" The mare asked in a bubbly tone.

"Not a whole lot, but, your location could be better," I said as I took a seat.

"Ah, yes. I ask that quite a lot. Plenty of ponies pass us by, which is why we're trying to put out more fliers saying where we are. Oh, well."

"I... see. So, why are you back here in this creepy alley?"

"Cheaper rent, things like that. Although, Doctor Pastel is working out trying to find office space somewhere... more open."

"Now that I can believe, but... surely it's cheaper in somewhere like Bronclyn, or Whinnistone?" I glanced up to the desk and the mare, who's eyes just barely topped it.

"Mm, perhaps. But, it's better to be somewhere with higher pony traffic, attracts more business, you know?"

"I don't think it would really matter, considering—" I stopped. "Nevermind."

At the desk, the telephone let out a single beep, the mare pressing a button and hearing a voice from the other side, inaudible to myself.

"Care for me to send him back now?" The mare asked. Again, words I could not make out followed. "Yes, ma'am." She then looked up at me. "Alright, Doctor Pastel will see you now. Just through that door right there and straight ahead."

Standing up, I gave a single nod. "Alright, thank you," before making my way through the door, shutting it gently behind me.

The hallway was nothing too special, although used electrical lighting rather than candles this time. There were a few other rooms on either side, all closed off, and the only one open—or semi-open—being presumably the doctor's.

Walking up to the door, my hoof politely knocked. Looking over, I saw an office chair turned and facing a small television screen broadcasting local news stations, the volume nearly completely muted.

"Come on in and take a seat," came a deep but soft older mare's voice.

Quietly I stepped into the room, seating myself at the doctor's desk and scooting forward. As I did, the monitor shut off, and the chair swiveled to face me. Resting back into it sat a fawn unicorn, mane styled in a couple of simple curls, and a very expensive-looking diamond necklace around her neck. Her semi-shut eyes scanned over me carefully, before narrowing.

"You seem familiar. Are you that pony from the naval station?" The mare asked, her voice slightly snarky.

"Yes, ma'am," I bobbed my head in two nods.

"A... Lance Corporal Star Shooter?" She read off of a piece of paper to her side, then once again eying me.

"Yes."

"So..." She put her hooves together. "I hear you are going through some trouble. Constant nightmares, flashbacks, and panic attacks, yes?"

Her tone made this conversation seem questionable. Because of it, my brow raised. "Yes, that's correct."

"Hmmph," the dark tan unicorn kept scrutinizing, as if I'd stolen something and I told her otherwise. "An appointment was not scheduled. Notice in advance is much appreciated."

"My apologies, this was a last minute decision, doctor. One... made rather abruptly," I finished with a colder tone.

"I see. Though, I do appreciate your will to come to me rather than somepony else."

"Actually, Doctor Haywalker referred me to you, his colleague, for a second opinion."

"Doctor Haywalker sent you?" Pastel's head slightly tilted. I nodded, and she sat back. "I have not heard from that stallion in quite some time."

"But... didn't he contact you to say I was coming?"

"I received a fax telling me so, although, the sender's information was not printed due to lack of ink. In that case, this changes the matter. Although, for me and him to speak, I will need to dig through the fax machine to get his office number. That should not be too hard, I pray."

"Okay, then," I nodded. "So, first appointment. What times are best suitable?"

"Well," the fawn mare picked up a couple of papers with a weekly schedule. "Truthfully, my only open times during the week are Tuesdays and Fridays, Tuesday being two to three, Friday being four to four forty-five."

"Friday is good. And this is once a week, right?"

"That is correct," Pastel nodded. "Once a week, we sit down and talk. First day we will discuss your problems, after that, ten minutes of explaining any changes, then the rest is between you and me."

I nodded in understanding, eying the mare carefully. "That sounds good."

"Sound good?"

"Yes."

"Perfect," she nodded once. "I do hope this won't be much of a nuisance to what I assume is a busy schedule you may have."

"It shouldn't be a problem if I explain it to my section sergeant."

"Right, of course," she nodded again. "Now, are there any questions you have?"

"How much per session?"

The mare cracked a small smile, then put a hoof to her chest just below her necklace and let out a bellowing chuckle. This made me stare with confusion.

"Sessions are of no cost to current and former military members. Instead we bill the military insurance companies."

"Wow, that's... really awesome," I smiled.

"That's how it should be. Any other questions?"

"Not at all."

"Then I suppose we are done here, for now. This Friday at four, yes?"

"This Friday at four."

"Perfect. I will see you then," Pastel gave a warm smile.

"Likewise, Doc." I replied, returning the smile, then leaving her office and out into the small lobby.

Passing the receptionist mare, I said to her, "Have a nice day."

"You, too!" She replied with that same bubbly tone, waving as I left.

In the blink of an eye, Pastel seemed to have changed the dynamic when I mentioned Doctor Haywalker. That was questionable.

Beyond that, I had a good feeling about this mare.

3. Field Week - Part I

"So, Star," my barrack roommate, Nightpath, began from the small kitchen we had, cooking something for dinner. "How was leave?"

"Tedious, to keep it brief," I answered from my bed, holding a book just above my chest.

"Tedious?" He repeated in question, keeping his voice just above the crackling of the pan on the stove.

"Boring...?" I glanced around the book with an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, right," Night chuckled lightly. "Sorry."

A few months ago, he threatened to pound me into the dirt with little to no remorse. Now, he apologized for not understanding certain words. How things could change in so little time.

"Don't worry about it," I replied, continuing to read my book.

"I heard, er... I heard Haywalker is having you see somepony. Are they tolerable?"

"It's a she, and yeah. I would say so," I answered as I flipped a page. "A bit of a hike and instincts to find her office, though."

"Where is it at? Midtown?"

"It's in the area of that new tower they're finishing up. Close to the train station, as well, if that narrows it down. The door is in a back alley, and that kind of had me on edge."

"Oh, yeah. Never trust the Manehattan streets. There's too many insane ponies out there looking for an easy bit from somepony."

"Amen to that," I let off a little chuckle, sitting upright and setting the book on the desk between our beds. "I just hope she will be good enough."

"Only time will tell, I guess. You'll know as it goes by and you'll make a decision."

"Well, I have good vibes about it... for once," I muttered the last part.

"That's good," Night replied, momentarily silencing. "On a slight subject change... Are you prepared for tomorrow?"

My brow raised a second time. "What's tomorrow?"

***

"All right, Marines, listen closely," Sergeant Hardstaff began while we sat in a small gathering room.

"If you haven't collected all of your warm clothes, you sure will need it for the days ahead. For the following week and a half, Fort Fetlock will be holding battle simulations to look over each and every one of you's performances in combat.

"Now, I am well aware that we went through this during basic training, and more recently, a real life situation right in our own backyard. This is exactly why these simulations are being hosted by the Equestrian Army."

The beige unicorn to my side raised his hoof. Hardstaff glanced at him. "Yes?"

Silver Edge lowered his hoof. "If it's the Equestrian Army, why are we required to go, sir?"

"Good question," Hardstaff nodded once in his direction, shifting slightly. "Regulations have changed. Any and all battle situations, minus naval exercises, mind you, are now required for all branches, minus the Navy once more, to attend. It ain't a competition, unless you would like to see it that way. It is just to see how well everypony will handle in a life-threatening situation.

"More so, First Lieutenant Arc Nobis will join me in observing your progress throughout the week. Don't worry, he will not cut any of you for the slightest mistake. He is just there to observe."

A very light collective chuckle came from around, even cracking a small smile from myself. A sergeant with a sense of humor was a good sergeant, a rare commodity in a squad these days it seemed.

"If anypony has any questions or objections, please feel obligated to speak your mind now, while you can," Hardstaff then said, eyes scanning over the room. "None? Positive? Alright. Head back to your barracks, grab everything you'll need."

He then picked up a single piece of paper from a nearby table. "While I trust none of you will need it, we will hand out a small shopping list, so to speak, for each of you to make sure you have the required gear. Dismissed."

Those of us seated rose from our chairs, filing in to a half-neat line to leave, taking a 'shopping list' from another Marine standing beside the door with a small pile of the paper. Nightpath and I took ours, siding each other as we exited into the hallway, and later, out of the building.

To my side, Night went over the list, trailing slightly behind and allowing me to lead him to the barrack.

"Insulated coats and pants, gloves, helmets, woobies, spare covers... No clue what the rest of it is," he glanced up.

"What the hell is a woobie?" The name itself made me grin slightly.

"You don't know what it is?" Night looked at me with a bit of shock, as if somepony had driven a spear through his heart.

"Nope. It sounds comfy, though."

"It's a thick blanket! You don't have one?!"

"Do you?" I looked over his way.

"Don't you?!" Night's head tilted, eyes wide with astonishment.

I shook my head, facing forward once more. "Where can I get one, the surplus store?"

"That's where I got mine," Nightpath nodded. "We may as well head over before we get back."

***

Off the train at a remote platform, centered in the middle of a tall, snowy pine forest, we were finally here. The ride to Fort Fetlock was not nearly as lengthy as I'd anticipated, much to my appall.

Once outside, pony-driven covered carriages parked up in unison beside the station with differently-uniformed soldiers hopping out and packing each of us and our bags in as tightly as possible, all before we were hauled off to the nearby base.

Passing through the front gates and pulling off in a patch of a mud-snow mixture, some soldiers opened the rear hatch and two by two, we hopped down, filing in to a rather large yet neat rowed group while more Marines were brought in from a few miles away.

Along with Sergeant Hardstaff, another taller uniformed stallion stood to his side, a similar insignia patch showing off proudly on his shoulder. Between branches, insignias differentiated to suit what ever branch it belonged to. Even our ranks were slightly different than the Army's.

At the top of his lungs, Hardstaff started to speak to all of us at once. All fifty or sixty of us...

"Eyes and ears open, Marines! This is Sergeant Major Sparkplug, he will be leading each and every one of you throughout the next week. I will be turning the reigns over to him," the night-blue pegasus said, his ice-blue eyes scanning over everypony with a stoic look to them.

To his side, a mud-brown earth pony stepped forth, sharing his facial expression and shoulder showing off his rank on the opposite side of Hardstaff's.

After a good moment of staring over us, he began. "Marines!"

***

In order to accommodate every pony coming in from all over the land, numerous rows of simple green tents had been constructed ahead of our arrival. Each one could house three to four ponies comfortably.

To keep the peace on base as well, we were all placed away from the Air Force ponies. It seemed the high-ranks in power over Fort Fetlock were well aware of how much Marines enjoyed teasing and poking competitive banter at the airponies. Airponies... as in ponies in the Air Force, not ponies that were literally planes, if those even truly existed.

Nightpath, myself, Silver Edge, and even Ashfall banded to share a tent, leaving our bags on the cots and regathering outside as ordered. Without a word said, in a couple of single-file lines, we were led to the mess hall.

As expected, the line was tremendously lengthy. Only sympathy was to be felt for those at the very rear who were also waiting for a hot breakfast. Thankfully we had managed to bag a position toward the middle, and the line did moving quicker as more staff piled into the kitchen.

Bringing my tray to a vacant spot on one of the numerous long tables, one notable mood in the air was suspicion. Not from me, but the soldiers stationed here giving us nasty or overall unwelcome looks.

It half worried me. Only half, knowing some sort of conflict between sides would be quickly resolved by base officials. Or, perhaps the soldiers are just extremely cranky here. The base was, after all, in the middle of nowhere, leaving everything they would ever need to be here.

Seating beside some other Marines, along with Night, Silver, and Ash, the conversation began.

"Excuse me for sounding like a sheep, but, this is going to be a baaaad week," Silver said, poking his scrambled eggs with a fork and resting his cheek on a hoof.

"What makes you say that?" Nightpath asked, blinking.

Silver glanced up to him, leaning in close from across the table and speaking much quieter between us. "Battle simulations? Just weeks after we fend off a rogue militia? What are the odds?"

He did have a point, even though there could have been tens of explanations. "Don't get yourself worked up. That was the real deal, this is not."

"Star, come on. You're no less shaken than the three of us combined," Silver motioned his hoof in a circle. "Why would they force us to do this?"

"How can you be sure this wasn't planned ahead of time? These typically take months to prepare, Silver," I replied, setting my silverware down. "Not to mention other possible reasons."

"Do enlighten us, then," Silver eased back, staring at me. "I am waiting."

I shot him a quick look. "Just eat. We have a long day just today as it is."

Scoffing, Silver rolled his eyes and lifted a forkful of eggs to his muzzle. "Fine."

***

Waking to the startling trumpet cadence in the early morning, just prior to dawn, my eyelids fluttered open, the whites visibly bloodshot. I groaned exhaustedly, shifting onto my side from my back to further tuck myself beneath the warm sheets, leaving just my head—and the bares of my hind hooves out the bottom—exposed to the frigid January air.

Left without a choice, I groaned a second time and sat upright, rubbing the cold tips of my ears. Tonight would definitely be spent with a beanie on to keep them from freezing off. That's quite frankly the last thing I'd need this trip.

Climbing out of the cot, the dark blue beanie was the first thing I grabbed, slipping it snugly atop my head and sniffing deeply to clear my nostrils. Even out of the cold breeze, there was no real temperature difference under cover, and the only real warm places around were the mess hall, the central office structure, the armory, and the medic's office.

Granting my mind some time to fully boot up, the memory hit me that today was a rucking day—only one of the most dreaded. Back in basic training, ruck marches were far and few in between, and it was a simple dirt modified racetrack. Who knew what this place had.

"Hey," I spoke up quietly to not startle anypony else. "Guys, wake up—"

"Go away!" All three of them answered, one or two of them muffled by their pillows.

Rolling my eyes, I nudged Silver's cot to gradually rock him awake. "Come on, the cadence sounded. Get up."

Grumbling incoherently, Silver rolled upright, eyes rolling down from the back of his sockets as his lids slid open, his maw parting to let out a deep yawn. "I hate them. I was sleeping soooo goooood!"

A small smile crept its way onto my muzzle. "Wish I could say the same. Now, come on. Get up, get ready. Don't want Hardstaff getting Sparkplug on our flanks."

That alone must have been some sort of motivation, for they were up and moving within seconds. Ashfall was the only one out of all four of us who didn't wear anything but his t-shirt to bed, despite the cold. Yep, he was definitely related to Anchorage somehow. It only added on to that theory of Silver's.

Prepared for the day at last, or somewhat, the four of us exited our tent and headed off for the mess hall. As said by the sergeant the night before, breakfast was optional before the run. All of us, minus Ashfall, agreed to at least put something in our stomachs, just enough to hold us over until lunch.

***

Leaving the chow hall no more than a few minutes later, Sergeant Hardstaff had been found toward the flagpole in center of the place, already with some Marines and other soldiers with their overloaded backpacks already on them. Ashfall was one of those Marines. A quick glance our way told me that we were missing something.

"You four!" Hardstaff called from a distance. "Over here," he waved his hoof in a motion for us to come.

Exchanging a glance with Silver, I took the lead over to the others, falling into formation. Hardstaff walked up to us with that questionable look we all knew.

"Your sacks?" Hardstaff asked. "Where are they, boys?"

"Do we pack our own or collect them from somewhere, sir?" Silver spoke up.

"I would have hoped for you three to pack your own, but never mind that. We have spares," he grinned in an almost-dark way, trotting off to the side, and later dragging back three heavily-packed green backpacks.

Just him pulling the bags along, as if they were feathers, showed off Hardstaff's true strength. It surprised me as much as I think it shocked everypony else.

"One for each. Get 'em on, and we'll get started," he ordered, sliding them close.

Nightpath grabbed hold of his ruck sack, slipping his hooves through the straps and allowing it to rest on his back. Not once did he grunt or groan. Damn those large stallions like him...

Silver picked his up with magic, much to Hardstaff's dismay. A simple tap of his hoof to Silver's horn doused the sparkles entirely, the pack dropping from a foot up onto his back, forcing him to lose his stance and fall down, struggling to stand himself back to all fours.

I reached to the bag to slide it closer, then lifting the bulky sack up and carefully slinging it over my shoulder, utilizing my currently-useless wings to make sure I wouldn't break something when the bag did finally set itself down. Man, was it heavy. It had to be weighing at least a ton! Not the metaphorical type, either.

My hooves began to lightly tremble beneath me, back being pressed downwards while what muscle I had exerting an opposing force in an attempt to balance out comfortably. I emitted little to no noise as the struggle to remain on my hooves went on, and whether or not I did make a single peep, Hardstaff most certainly—and thankfully—didn't notice.

***

Having being brought to a secluded, winding dirt path that weaved out into the dense pine ocean surrounding Fort Fetlock, Hardstaff stood off to our left, siding an Army corporal scribbling on a clipboard.

"Y'all know the drill. When every last one of you reaches the end, come on back, and we'll start over. This isn't a race. Treat each other respectfully, and help each other out," Hardstaff said sternly. "That is our primary goal. Consider this a bonding exercise."

Reaching back, Hardstaff slipped a pistol from his leather belt holster, cocking it once. The sixteen of us remained facing forward. My eyes intermittently darted between the night blue pegasus off to the side, and the dirt path ahead as far as the eye could see.

I waited. And waited. And waited some more. When was he going to—

BANG.

In an instant, my heart exploded down in my chest. My breath quickened, and my mind fell into a sort of internal panic at the deafening pop. Soon realizing the gun was aimed skywards, all senses were recollected with a quick shake of my head, galloping after the others who had already darted forward.

The weight on my back and shoulders was near unbearable. Regulations for ruck marching surely had to have changed, or I was falling rusty. Or, I was never good at these kinds of runs. Again, basic training did not have much of this whole type of exercise.

I clenched my teeth, only to have them chatter as a result of the brisk winter air. Despite the heavy clothes and gloves, my limbs were freezing. That same air slithered up my sleeves like a snake, sending chills down my weight-pressed spine.

Sooner than expected, however, I caught up with the others. Some of the soldiers had actually begun to fall behind. One let out a deep groan, his hooves giving out entirely beneath him, his sack falling forward and pressing his head painfully down into the dirt path.

I skidded to a stop immediately, chest heaving. Turning back to the fallen pony, who now squirmed agonizingly beneath the heavy backpack, I reached a hoof out, took his own, and gave it a yank, jarring part of him free from his own weight and using his formerly-trapped hoof to push himself up, gulping deeply for oxygen as his muzzle lifted from the snow.

The brown stallion wiped down his uniform, then glanced up at me with a warm smile, raising a hoof up to his cap to tip it. "Thank you, Marine."

"Star," I returned the smile with a small nod. "It's Star. And, you're welcome. Come on, let's get back in."

Nodding, both me and the dark mud-colored earth pony resumed where we had left off, albeit by each others' sides, rounding the small or sharp bends the path took, the other Marines and soldiers out of our sight for the moment.

"Alright, Star. Is... it just Star, or do ya have another name?" The pony to my right asked between breaths.

"Star Shooter," my breath quickened slightly in my reply. "You?"

"S-Skillshot. Nice name," he panted. "I-I thought all... Marines were cold hearted bastards."

Briefly glancing to him, I said back, "I believed all soldiers w-were sociopaths-in-uniform."

"Nah, that's... the special forces. Skyborne, Troopers, squads like those. Th... they're the sociopaths-in-uniform. Are y-ya sure you're a Marine? That uniform is..." he paused for a breath. "L-looks too much like the old Navy ones. What does the Navy wear now?"

"Blue digital. Luna decided it would be best... if our uniforms didn't match."

"You serve L-Luna?"

"I serve Equestria, n-no princess in particular."

"I-I suppose that's why everypony just calls y'guys Marines. Not Lunar Marines, not Lunar Soldiers, not Lunar anything. M-makes it seem less like the old revolution, y'know?"

"Y-yeah," I huffed out, rounding a bend with Skillshot and spotting the others a ways ahead. "T-thank Luna, they're not waiting for us."

"So you do like Luna!"

"What?" I snapped to look at Skillshot.

The mud-brown pony smirked with a small chuckle between pants. "Most ponies h-have a preferred princess these days. There's no real c-competition, though. Where ya from?"

"Come again?"

"Where. Are... Y-ya. From?"

"Oh! Coltlumbus. You?"

"Appleloosa."

Unbeknown to me, my steady pace I'd worked for had proceeded to slowly fail. My face and forehead were heating up, in spite of the winter breeze blowing into us as we ran. "Never been. Is it nice?"

"F-for a pony who loves the hot desert, homestyle cookin', and country folk, yes," Skillshot replied, notably palpitating harder.

"So, not for me," I chuckled softly to myself.

Skillshot snickered a bit as well. "Whew... Yeah. Perhaps not. Damn, w-where is the end?"

"You're s-stationed here, shouldn't you know?" I huffed, reaching up to my warm, dampened forehead and wiping the beading sweat off with my hoof.

The mud-colored stallion's chest was heaving much more deeply now. He did not sound good, not one bit. "T-this path wasn't h-here when I was in training. The old one was south of the base."

"Why make... a new one?"

"I-I wouldn't recommend questioning their l-logic... whew," Skillshot huffed, slowing to an eventual halt. "Give me a second..."

Stopping some short distance further, my chest bloated and deflated heavily as I'd begun to catch my breath. "W-we really should not be stopping."

Skillshot, with his head facing the ground, breathed deeply and loudly. "I know. I just—" suddenly, his maw closed up tightly, cheeks stretching out, like a squirrel with nuts in his mouth, and his entire face turning a sickly green shade.

"Skill?" My eyes shot wide with surprise.

"Mmmph!" He waved his hoof for me to stay back, galloping to the edge of the trees. Just moments after reaching the snowy grass, what ever it was he had to eat this morning was now hurled out in a thick, greenish-yellow chunky puddle on the ground.

Writhing at the sight, up I put a hoof forward before my eyes to block it away, angling my head just to the right as well and stood by for the miserable stallion to finish. A couple of soldiers behind us passed, one chuckling, and the other grossing out and running faster.

In a final splatter of puke, Skillshot weakly shifted my direction, wiping little drips of vomit free with his sleeve and groaning deeply. "I-I'm good," he puffed.

Lowering my hoof just slightly to glance over it, my one eye met his. "Positive?"

Nodding, Skillshot trotted closer, eyelids hanging lower in weakness. "Th-that sucked."

***

Many stressful—and painful—minutes later, the end was in sight. Scattered about, each was individually pausing to ease themselves and recuperate until the run back. Knowing orders, neither me nor Skill would have a moment without being left behind.

"There you are," Ash smiled faintly, breathing slower and calmer than the others.

I'd imagine he was used to these runs by now. He exercises often, too.

"We thought we would have to come back and look for you," Nightpath grinned. He, too, was faring even better than Ash. Then again, he was the largest out of all of us.

Coming to a complete stop, my hooves waited no longer before they gave out from underneath me, my face planting directly into the snow. The cold of it was the best feeling to my face since... I don't even remember when!

Skillshot sat down, ears drooping and sweat running down his forehead and neck. Neither of us replied to either of them. Frankly, we needed a minute to breathe first.

Author's Note

Finally, after two months, a new chapter! Enjoy. :twilightsmile:

6. Hearts & Hooves Day

A soft knock on our door had me jolting upright from a nap in an instant. Shufflingy out of alert mode, gently I hopped off the edge of my bed and rounded the corner, twisting the lock knob and jarring opening.

Met with a frigid blast of air from the outside, I winced and squinted temporarily, gaze meeting the pupils of a shorter sky-blue uniformed mare with a small brown pouch hung by a single strap around her neck.

"Letter for a... Star Shooter?" She spoke, holding out a closed envelope.

I blinked, then took the letter. "I didn't know there was a mail service here, too."

The mare grinned. "Ya learn somethin' new every day. Tah-tah!" then trotted back down the stairwell she came from further down.

Watching her go, my focus returned to the simple white envelope, a hind gently kicking the door shut. One hoof tore the lip off, the piece floating to the floor as I retreated into the bedroom.

Now rested sitting up on my bed, carefully I removed the single piece of paper inside and unfolded it.

Dear Star,

Here I am hoping there is some sort of postal service that you have access to in order to receive this. If you are reading this, then forget everything I have just said.

Anywho, for some work purposes, I will be vacationing in Manehattan for a time. Four days, to be much more precise, beginning the middle of the second week of February. The reason I write is because I have been meaning to ask you something, but have no other means of communication apart from letters. (Seriously, you should get a phone!)

Well, that is all beside the point, unless you have to work and must turn me down. So, I will cut right to the chase. Would you like to go out when I get there? You know, like a second date the time we hung out at your place, except go somewhere else. I'm fairly certain they would shoot both of us if you brought me on base, anyways.

I will be coming in on the 12th, during the afternoon. Write me back as soon as you get this! My address is on the back of the page.

See you soon (maybe).

Ray Blitz

A small, yet noticeable smile pursed my lips. Then, the realization hit me like an oncoming train. He was coming tomorrow!

There was no way a response would reach him in time, and he would be left in the dark. Unless I were to surprise him when he arrives. Yes, that would work! But, what if he is mad that I didn't reply in time? No, forget that. Surprising him would definitely work out!

Better yet, Thursday and Friday I now had off rather than the weekends. It all fit together perfectly!

Glancing to the door as it swung open, a shivering Nightpath making his way inside with heavy steps, I stood up quickly with a widened, stupid grin left over from reading

He gave a look of bewilderment. "What's... gotten into you, Star?"

"Oh, uh..." I froze, smile fading out. "I... just found out somepony I have not seen in a while is in town soon. Coming in on the twelfth!"

Nightpath's eyebrow raised, confusion further showing across his face. "Star, today is the twelfth. Where in the world have you been?"

My eyes shot wide. "Wait a minute, what time is it?!"

He raised up a hoof, peering down at his tactical-styled watch previously hidden beneath his sleeve. "Thirteen-fifteen. Why do you a—"

"Shit!" Alarmed, I plucked my jacket right up from the bottom wooden pillar of my bed and quickly bundled up, then snatching my beanie and making a break for the door around Night. "I'll be back!" and out the door I went.

After the door had slammed shut, leaving Night wincing to the noise, he began walking further inside. Left fully perplexed, he undressed slowly, preparing to get in a hot shower after a long morning's shift.

One piece of paper in particular, however, caught his attention. Giving a brief glance to the door, he took the fold-creased letter and stretched it out, eyes scanning over the written contents. The further he read, the quicker his confusion transformed to awe and shock at the sudden revelation.

***

Impatiently I stood a block away from base, peering in either direction the street went for a carriage to hail. For a city that frequently travels by taxi, none were to be seen. What ever the excuse would be, the tardiness was absurd. The holidays ended over a month prior. What is taking so long?

Minute by minute, the mental clock ticked away, and more irritable I became. The ultimate decision I made was to run for it. A two, maybe three-mile gallop, with much of said path being in a straight line.

By next realization, my hooves were already rushing beneath, having raced two blocks in what seemed to be just a few seconds time.

Swiftly hurrying around the corner and up an incline leading on to the Manehattan Bridge, in the coldness of the air, I huffed out steamed breaths in a heavy yet rapid pace while crossing the icy river a hundred or more feet beneath.

Racing as well was my mind, the only beliefs spinning around being those that Ray would be angry or upset. Even if I manage to beat him to the station, to a certain extent he still would be, thanks to the simple fact that he received no reply to his letter, not that one was ever made.

All I could hope for would be the best case scenario, where no mind would be paid to my incompetence. Surprise aside, I needed to get there as quickly as possible.

Finally, a moment could be taken to catch my breath, hooves sliding on a thin patch of ice to a halt before the large tan stone-and-brick structure. Sweat beaded up on my forehead and neck, trickling down incrementally with every movement, most of which coming from the deep heaving of my chest.

Having paused a second too long, once more my hooves were on the move, rushing up the small steps into the building. With a steadier, but still hurried of a pace, I made my way to the platforms, freezing briefly to check the timetable displayed on a large board hanging above the walkway.

Much to my relief, the train from Ponyville was running behind. Sighing out a breath of relaxation and my prior tense muscles easing up, I plopped down on to a nearby bench, leaning backwards.

Consequently, sitting down was met with a quickened inhaling pattern and heart pumping heavily, and now, aching limbs.

Now, all there was to do was to wait for Ray's arrival.

Bypassing ten minutes, the anxious back-and-forth pacing had begun. At some point, I was bound to fall through a worn-out, crumbling hole in the floor and likely be flattened by an oncoming express train.

Later than ever, this train was running. Rechecking the timetable every so often, each time I would find the time of arrival updating, adding an extra ten minutes from each time prior.

This was now even more frustrating than waiting to leave Fort Fetlock.

Fiddling with my hooves in boredom, I'd laid down on the bench, every so often glancing at the timetable but unable to read anything on it from the distance and angle. Surely, at any moment, his train would come.

At long last, the later-than-ever-express pulled up between two of the platforms. Springing up on all fours, I trotted down a flight of stone-constructed steps and up to one of the cars as the doors slid open and ponies began to disembark.

Through the pony flock my eyes wandered, even checking the other passenger carriages. By every passing moment, any hope of finding Ray had faded. He wasn't on this train in the first place!

***

My chin held low, eyes scrutinizing the frozen cement just forth of my hooves. A faint grimace sat crossing my muzzle all the while. One hoof kicked forward, knocking a pebble further ahead every so often.

Nothing made any sort of sense in any particular form. Where on earth is Ray? He stated in the letter that he would be coming.

A sudden realization of my surroundings had me walking directly into a white and orange-striped sign with blinking lights. Reversing away from the sign and rubbing my snout with a hoof, I'd taken note of more signs just like it, all circumferencing a wide perimeter at the base of a construction site.

Gradually, my gaze lifted, scanning the ground to the very top of a concrete-and-glass skyscraper, standing tall and proud beneath signature overcast skies. Scaffolding continued to wrap around the upper levels, and slender, yet sturdy steel cranes stretched to the peak of the tower.

Atop the sound of the breeze channeling through the streets, distant metallic-on-concrete ringing of jackhammers smashed away from above, as well as much more closer revving of ponies operating drills and hammering on lower floors.

Taking a glance down and to the left, another sign stood plastered against chain link fence, advertising the construction company, a rendered image of the completed project in dead center, and the words boasting beneath it.

GenTech Tower. Powering your future.

This must have been that new building Haywalker spoke of. The newest, and so-far ugliest addition to the skyline. Just with a simple look up, with confirmation on the placard, GenTech Tower is due to be the tallest structure in the city, topping Trotterdam Tower by ten whole stories.

In a world modernizing as quickly as it is, one can imagine Manehattan to become the new face of putrid neo-futuristic cities as seen in comic books and movies, like Star Trot. It would not be long before other cities across Equestria, and possibly worldwide afterward, to follow suit.

Ears perking at a shout, I squinted my eyes through the gap in the caution sign, spotting a trio of ponies, one neatly dressed and the others in construction vests and hardhats, both taking a scold from said suited pony.

With the ambiance in all directions, their conversation remained out of my ears' reach. Why was I spying on them, anyways? I better leave before somepony sees me, my inner-voice determined.

Turning around slowly, a blow to the front came out of the blue, leaving me stunned as all went totally black for a split second.

"Boop!" Ray said with a sly grin, his hoof pushed to my scrunched-up nose.

I blinked quickly twice with wide-eyes, heart rate momentarily increasing. Realizing it was just Ray, I relieved myself. Partly.

"Ray!" I shouted with surprise, bringing his hoof away from my muzzle. "Sweet Luna, were you following me?"

The golden pegasus' head shook. "Nope! I spotted you when I was getting a good look at this new tower, and thought I'd sneak up on you," he kept the grin wide across his muzzle.

"Well," an ear flicked. "Don't do that. Had this been a normal day and you would probably be in a whole heap of pain... becaaaaause... reflexes and all," I rubbed the back of my head, cheeks awkwardly flushing.

"Right," he nodded. "But, uh, I do have something to ask you.

Oh, god. Here it comes.

"Did you get my letter?"

And there it was.

My body tensed. I nodded. "Earlier, yes."

"Darn. I was wondering when you would get it. Now I know to send it out an extra week in advance," Ray rolled his eyes.

"But, wait," I began. "I didn't see you get off at the station. I was there when you should have arrived! When did you—?"

Ray chuckled softly, one of his arms looping around my neck and he began walking. "Oh, Star. I didn't take the train. I flew in!"

"You... flew. In this weather. No way," it seemed too good to be true.

"On a plane! Was a turbulent ride, though. A couple of ponies got airsick both on takeoff and landing."

"By plane?" It struck me. "Oh. I'm... sorry. When I realized you were in town today, I hoped to surprise you. I... did not know you weren't taking the train."

Ray chuckled some more, a bit louder this time. He seemed to be getting quite the crack out of the little mishap of mine. "Silly pony, have you never flown before?"

My cheeks now tinged a faint red. "Not at all, actually."

"Well, that's understandable. Flying isn't for everypony. It surely is not one of the more conventional ways, ponies still enjoy traveling by train or riverboat, if those still exist," Ray responded with a smile.

"I guess..." My eyes shifted another direction. This was awkward, though it could have been far worse, I'll admit.

"So... now that I am here, what do you want to do first?"

"Well..." I froze in speech to gather ideas. "I'm certain there is plenty to do around here. It is Manehattan, after all."

"I am aware of that, you big dork," he ruffled up my mane, making it even messier than prior. "I meant for Hearts and Hooves Day!"

Down to the size of marbles my irises shrunk. "Hearts and... Hooves Day?"

"Don't you know it's tomorrow?" he raised his eyebrow with minor suspicion.

"I—well... I have not exactly been the best at keeping track of time, especially as of late," I fibbed. Blatantly, Hearts and Hooves Day topped the list of my most disliked holidays, and for countless reasons, too.

"Oh, well. Now you know!" Ray then paused. "I mean, if you're cool with hanging out and that kind of stuff. I know you are busy here and all, but... would you like to spend Hearts and Hooves Day with me?"

Time ultimately stopped completely at that very moment. Perhaps it was just me trying to think this offer through.

Do I want to spend time with Ray? Of course I do. The next couple of days I had off, anyways, which was even better. My concerns were that this was far more serious than it seemed...

"That... would be lovely," I smiled warmly. "I have up until the weekend off as it is. Lazing around a barrack all day isn't any fun, either, even though I'm far used to it. So, yes, I will hang out with you."

"Great!" Ray smiled.

Then, something unexpected happened again.

He pecked my cheek with the littlest of kisses. My heart thumped heavily against the walls of my chest. From hoof to ear, my body immediately got heated with free flowing blood.

Some time within the moment I had stopped walking, staring blankly out into open air with warm, pink-shaded cheeks, and a steady breath that steamed in the cold air.

From a yard ahead, Ray looked back with a grin. "You coming?"

The only answer was yes.

Author's Note

Another bit of a short chapter (except this one actually is short).

Also, I posted this exactly at midnight, January 1st, 2017. Happy New Year everyone!

7. Changing Times

"All right, ponies, listen closely," Shadow began, all gazes in the room turning his direction.

"Central Command is ordering the fleet to ship out some time within the upcoming month. Filed reports are telling us that Intelligence is picking up mysterious energy readings and radio signatures from five different locations ranging from eighty-six nautical miles due east, to about two-hundred and sixty nautical miles in a circular radius.

"Their sources are unknown, although, our mission is to investigate said readings, and as quickly as possible. On top of that, we have reason to believe the Eastern Kingdoms, as well as the sovereign states on the same continent, Ajerstan and Foscovia to be more precise, are suspicious over the readings as well, and may also be preparing for an ocean-wide search," he thoroughly explained.

One sailor raised his hoof. Shadow glanced in his direction and nodded.

"Why is this such a concern, sir? If they are just as confused over this information, what is the issue with them joining in on our search?" The sailor questioned, his hoof lowering.

"Well, I am pleased for you to ask, because that is the next important topic. The majority of you are not aware of the present situation between our fair nation and Ajerstan," Shadow replied, ending off rather grimly.

"Ajerstan has been the focus by not just Equestria, but many other countries as well throughout recent years. These 'recent years' date back as far as thirty-two years in the past. We have kept a watchful eye for all of this time, recognizing the moves they have made that go against international law, and aggressive gestures at larger nations, such as our own.

"More so, the region of the Antlertic in which we are under order to scan is still rather close to Equestria's coasts. In fact, they are still considered to be our waters. If the Ajerstanian Navy were to make any sort of movement, as quoted by Central Command, we as a fleet have every right in the book to defend Equestria against their vessels," Shadow lightly stomped a hoof down stoically.

The tension and even fear developed quickly throughout the darkened room. Some of the sailors chatted silently over the matter, only prompting Shadow to whistle vehemently. Everypony's heads snapped back forward, the room now silent enough to hear a pin drop.

"It is imperative that every pony in this room remains sharp and alert. There is much to be done in such a limited amount of time. Those who are a member of my bridge crew, I ask of you to stay put. The rest of you, head home and prepare, only pack what is necessary. Think of it as a typical deployment, which it still is, in a certain way. Dismissed."

The majority of the sailors in the room stood and collected their paperwork, filing out through the door and clearing quite a bit of space in the room. Now it felt less awkward to be the only Marine in there.

"I wished to keep this discussion less conspicuous and between us on the bridge. Miles of information and reports received from the Equestrian Weather Association, as well as atmospheric experts, are expressing concern for the upcoming hurricane season," Shadow said, albeit quieter between the eight of us.

"Will it be more intense this year, sir?" I asked, shifting in my seat.

"More intense, and earlier than the ordinary, according to readings collected by numerous weather stations and buoys. Oceanic temperatures are warmer than average, too, despite the frigid winter we had this past year."

Shadow's head cocked slightly, then he furrowed an eyebrow. "How are you previously aware of this, Lance Corporal?"

"I watched a lot of the National Weather Channel over leave," rather directly I replied.

A quiet chuckle came from the others, cracking a faint smile on my muzzle while I fiddled with a pen in-hoof.

"Right, then. Moving on," Shadow cleared his throat, once more bringing on a room-wide silence. "The weather is one more concern we should have on our minds while we are at sea. All of us are well aware of how rapid things can change. If all truly hits the prop, the mission may very well be scrubbed."

With the click of a button, the screen projector turned off, and the room became lighter.

"If this is all clear, then perfect. Navigation Officer, Radarpony, your only assignment for the moment is to determine a strategy of attack—er, route plan. One to ensure all positions are examined, before looping back home. Assuming all goes according to plan, we should be making port within a month. Any further questions?"

***

Later on that evening, the heavy workload gathered, signaling late nights ahead. Already my fragile circadian rhythm had begun to crack. Nonetheless, one week was my deadline. After that, one more week of fire watch, then deployment. Simple enough.

On the sunnier end of the matter, a laptop was provided to aid in organization of maps and other data necessary to get the job done. A nice one at that. For a hefty price, it could be mine permanently.

But, until my next paycheck, it belonged to the Technical Corps, the IT side of the Lunar Navy and Marines combined.

"Wow. Nice computer, Star. Where'd ya get it?" Nightpath questioned, breaking my focus briefly.

"Oh, this? It's not mine. Not yet, at least. I am just using it for work," I returned my gaze to the screen.

Night nodded, then noticed the small array of maps strewn across my bed and frowned. "Let me guess, it's for deployment?"

"Afraid so. If you came to the briefing, you would know that," I retorted, glancing briefly at him.

"What briefing? I was asleep!" Night responded in an obvious-fake innocent tone.

"Well, to be fair, every pony in there was a squid. I stood out of the crowd," I said, tapping a pencil to my chin and scribbling down on a blank piece of paper.

"Oh. Well, that makes better sense," Night shrugged, slipping his jacket on. "All right, I'll see you tomorrow, I guess. Don't stay up too late on that, you hear?"

"I will try," I nodded to him. "Stay warm."

Night rolled his eyes from the door. "Two days and it will be March, it surely cannot still be that cold outside at night," he grumbled as he exited the room.

At last, some peace and quiet. Not that he was much of a bother to begin with.

This was tougher than I had previously conceived. Perhaps I'd be better off without using this damn laptop. None of the programs made any sense whatsoever!

Constantly I would find myself clicking on the wrong tab, and more confusion is caused between sets of data that were copied on to the screen.

Of course, the last time my hooves laid on any sort of computer was during the last deployment, and that had to be four months ago, or longer.

Since the attacks, no ships have left port. The Eclipse only just returned from the repair docks in the south port, and quite nearly every system on board needed to be reset entirely. Simply imagining having to use a new operating system altogether was stressful on its own.

About two hours in now, I dropped the pencil and rubbed my temples with both hooves, blinking slowly as I kept my gaze on the bright, migraine-inducing screen filled to the brim with conflicting information.

Just then, a knock came on the door. Finally, an excuse to leave the work alone for a moment. Opening the door, I was met with a familiar face.

"Oh, Sea Watch. What brings you here?" I blinked twice.

"Seeing as you are the Eclipse's radarpony, I hoped we could work together on the plans," said the bluish-green earth pony, one hoof looped around another closed laptop and held to his chest. He was missing his cover, likely being off duty.

If he is having similar problems, how could I possibly help him?

"Sure."

Damn my stupid mouth.

The stallion smiled. "Thank you so much, you're a true lifesaver," Sea said as he stepped inside.

"Not a problem," it was a problem. Yet I continued to smile and walk back with him. "So, what are you caught on?"

Sea Watch nervously chuckled. "Where do I begin?"

***

Nightpath entered the room, taking his cover off with a hoof and closing the door with a soft click.

Without pausing, he made his way back into the tiny bedroom, only to freeze right in the end of the small corridor just beyond the bathroom door, staring with a raised brow at the bewildering sight before him.

An audible clearing of his throat had me awake within a couple of moments, leaning upright and squinting gently at the room's brightness. There stood the larger brown stallion, head slightly cocked.

Yawning and stretching my hooves out, I spoke. "Morning. Why are you staring like th—"

At some point late the evening prior, both myself and Sea Watch had passed out right on the spot. Evidently, it had to have been simultaneous, otherwise he would have gotten up and left.

What had me in a whole heap of shock was the fact that the spot in which I laid partially overlapped with the earth pony. Now, I found myself with a face full of red, and a racing mind searching for explanation.

"I-it's not what it looks like, Night!" I squealed out, inadvertently waking a slumbering Sea Watch.

"Really?" Nightpath stared blankly, giving that 'don't-you-lie-to-me' look any pony could make out with a fast glance.

"Hmmh..." Sea groaned, sitting upright and looking around, eyelids just narrowly cracked. "Oh man, did I fall asleep on you, Star?"

"You're not helping!" I grumbled, smacking my forehead with a hoof and proceeding to hide much of my face.

Recoiling, Sea nodded, then glanced to Nightpath. "This your roommate?"

"He's my roommate, thank you very much," replied the brown pony with a tone of aggression, though it was faint. "Star, can I talk to you in private for a second?"

I stood up, awkwardly heading to the kitchen with him.

"Night, I can assure you, it's strictly not what it looks like! We were working late, and we—"

He raised his hoof to stop me. "Forget about that, there's something I need to tell you."

I stopped, blinking. "What is it?"

"Silver and Anchorage are heading up north, wanted to know if we were interested in going with them."

"I... can't. I'm sorry," I shook my head. "I have a ton—we have—a ton of work to get done. We cannot wait to finish this."

"They're seeing Solar up at Valor Lake."

At that moment, time froze. "What?"

"They are going up to Valor Lake to see Solar before we deploy again," Night's ears fell back slightly.

Gradually my rear fell to the floor. My eyes glassed over. "When are they going?"

"Later today. Anchorage figured the sooner they go, the better, and the quicker they can get things done the moment they come back."

I gulped down a thick lump blocking my throat. "We can't not go, Night. It wouldn't be morally right."

"I am aware of that. I told them I would ask a little in advance in case you literally couldn't—"

"No, no. I'll go."

Night nodded once. "All right."

He proceeded to head back to his bed, strip off his uniform, then into the bathroom to freshen up.

I simply walked back and put on my jacket from yesterday and grabbed my cover. "Sorry, but I have to go," then left.

"Hey! What happened?" Sea called, perplexed as ever.

Author's Note

Another short chapter. Next one will be longer, though, and will be a bit depressing most likely. Stay tuned!

8. Reminiscence

Rumbling through the dreary countryside, and through oceans of pine trees, our train raced north. I stared, zoned out, gaze focusing on nothing in particular on the opposite side of the carriage's glass pane. My chin sat relaxed atop my hoof, elbow rested against a narrow lip beneath the window, and body leaning just slightly against the wall.

It only made sense for us to see him again. After all, he was buried nearly two months ago. Regardless if the whole 'the passed are always with you' thing was real, he could only be lonely, out in the secluded forests of northeast Equestria, along the eastern shores of Valor Lake. On sunny days, he had a stunning view of the shimmering water below the hilltop.

It amazed me that such a place could even see cloudless days. Either time I've gone, the weather set the mood perfectly. Yet, despite the rather-close proximity to Manehattan, and the further-north city of Alderneigh, two-hundred miles really did make the difference. No snow coated the ground at all, a sign of the transitioning seasons ahead.

In anticipation of the warm weather, I reached up and plucked off my beanie, not that it had been at all necessary to wear in the heated train, which now cooled in response to the change of temperature. Outside, a sprinkle dampened the windows with tiny individual plops of water, far from significant enough to reduce visibility.

What broke my solid trance were the brakes as the train slowed, approaching our destination. A feather felt to tickle in my chest, a tingle that pained my heart the slower the world outside paced by.

My ears drooped back while the expansive cemetery came into view, no longer shrouded by the forest. Just enough of the lake was visible through a distant thick fog to remind me it was there. This silver fog stretched skyward until it reached the barrier of the clouds above, and ever so steadily did it sweep across the lake, moving in our general direction.

The jolt of the carriages bouncing against one another as the train came to a complete halt once more removed my focus off of the outside and on the others. They already stood up from their seats, lining up at the door, it giving off a low hiss as it slid open.

Standing for the first time in a few hours, I strode up behind Silver, dressed as nicely as possible in such short notice. Himself and Anchorage definitely took their appearances seriously for a non-official matter, not that anypony paid much mind.

A wall of humidity struck each of us the moment we stepped hoof outside of the train. A warm type of humidity, one that all of us—minus Anchorage—longed for through the course of a few months, and eagerly welcomed with open arms. Yep, spring was on its way.

"Who remembers where it is?" Nightpath asked, glancing around.

"Shouldn't be difficult. They buried him with the others," Anchorage responded lowly.

"The... others?" Night cocked his head.

"He wasn't the only one who died that day, Night," I replied, giving him a blank look from below. "Sailors on the Eclipse, then Marines in Manehattan."

"All adding up to a total death toll of eleven ponies. Eleven. That's how many colts didn't get to go home to their families for the New Year," Silver added, trailing off tenser than before and gritting his teeth.

"Solar included," I silently said, gaze shifting off toward one of the rows extending as far as I could see.

Each of these gravestones marked the final resting places of royal guards over the span of a millennia. The grand majority were killed in action during the Lunar Rebellion, and two wars with the Griffons. That did not include the more-recent conflict last summer, all because of the patriarch resting the blame on Equestria over a misplaced item within their kingdom. The remainder were of sickness or other reasons.

We strode steadily along the gravel path, between row after row of gravestones of almost any shape and size. It seemed as though no two matched. That is what made Valor Lake the most unique of any normal cemetery.

With Anchorage in the lead of our little band, we put our trust on his shoulders to guide us to Solar's burial place. Along the way, I noted the significant transition from royal guards, over to the four branches. A chilling shiver ran up my spine reading their date of birth and death, the cause, and even notable quotes engraved in the fine granite the stones were made out of.

Perhaps it sickened me the most reading just how many of these ponies ended their own life rather than losing it to battle or an accident, or of natural causes. In the past I would always deny or simply choose not to believe the statistics of veteran suicide, whether former or active duty. For the longest time, long before I even contemplated enlisting, I believed things to be not nearly as awful as many said.

More so, it hit close to home. Having a father with a military record, one with common issues faced after combat, even then I kept ignoring the facts of reality and neglecting to comprehend the severity of one's thoughts after seeing what they experienced that haunts them at night. And now, I knew exactly what it was like, firsthand.

"Well, here it is. The Battle of Manehattan," Anchorage sighed after finishing, taking slow steps ahead and leading toward our friend.

A good part of me hated to look, yet I could not help the urge to read over the names of the ponies killed during both the attack on the Eclipse, and as it was referred to, the Battle of Manehattan, not to be confused with the Invasion of Manehattan taught in history classes. Even I could not place my hoof on the age of which it occurred.

In my chest surged a deep, stabbing pain that refused to release its grip on my heart, almost a crushing pressure like a boulder fell from the sky and landed on top of me in addition to a quickened beat. It worsened the closer we got, as if I knew it was there.

At last, Anchorage came to a halt before the grave. On it read 'Here lies Solar Wave, a beloved child, and a respected Marine for his sacrifice. 1997-2014'.

The year of his birth was what hurt the most. He was only seventeen, not even an adult yet. It was his parents who signed him up because he still had one year left before he could legally sign those enlistment papers.

Even through the thickest of times back in boot camp, he persevered. Despite his initial scrawny appearance, he made it farther than most believed he would. In some cases he even surpassed my expectations. We worked in tandem. Solar, myself, and Silver, helping each other out through those three tough months.

He even saved my future.

***

Eyes puffy and bloodshot, I leaped to my hooves, straight out of bed. The sixteen others did the same, albeit at their own pace. What had us moving was the drill instructor's nightstick banging against a steel pole, sending a wincing ringing echoing around the room to startle everypony.

It was week two of boot camp, or the middle of it. Every day before consisted of intense workouts that were sure to make one lose ten or twenty pounds in such a short span of time. I definitely felt lighter right around now.

The drill instructor strode steadily down the aisle between our beds, that terrifying, soul-eating scowl thoroughly examining all sixteen of us individually. Anypony not used to it by now were sure not to make it to the end.

"I hope y'all have written yer wills," he grimly addressed. Just the tone of his voice was enough to make the biggest of ponies uneasy—including one particular soil-brown earth pony a few beds down from my own.

While he faced the other direction, I briefly darted my eyes to him, then back straight forward. I tightened my posture, hooves as closely together, neck and back straight, ears up. The attention stance, by far, was the simplest part of this charade.

Reaching the end of the building, the drill instructor turned and strolled with slow steps back in my direction, still examining everypony and checking for any weakness. One fault, and he'd cling like a tick.

"Today, y'all will get a shot at the good ol' gas chamber. You will stand there, in formation, with your squad mates, and remove your masks, hold them straight up, and tag your battle buddy in front of you," he explained aloud. "Simple enough, for you pussies," he muttered the end.

Stopping at the door where he entered, he turned again, gaze moving from one end of the room to the other. "Get your asses moving," he ordered.

With that, everypony scrambled to get their uniforms on, before lining up neatly in front of the drill sergeant.

***

A sizable one-story concrete-and-steel structure, placed in center of one of the training fields, is where the drill instructor led us, joining with another training class and their instructor. One by one, in a single-file line, ponies entered through the door following a brief bodily check from a base medic.

I stood behind Solar Wave, patiently waiting for our turn to head inside. Unicorns were fitted with horn rings, restricting magic use within the chamber. Any pegasi in the mix—myself included—were required to extend our wings for reasons unknown. Heck, this examination made no sense to begin with.

Solar stepped up to the plate, the medic briefly examining his body, before placing the ring around Solar's horn, then tapping his shoulder, a gesture allowing him to head inside.

Being next in line, I paused just before the door, stretching my wings out to full length. The medic poked them individually with his pen, making them twitch, then tapped my shoulder, and I followed Solar into the cold structure.

A pair of disgruntled-looking Marines stood beside some boxes on wooden tables, fitting two at a time with facial gas masks, strapping them tightly to one's head in exchange for their covers, placing them neatly in other boxes to be collected later. Now I understood the need to write our names on the insides.

I winced at the straps around the back snapping into place, squeezing the circumference of my head and creating a pressure toward the top. The mask itself made my steady breathing louder than it should have been, added to the fact that it quickly became steamy, and the plastic covering for me to see through blurred at every exhale, thus forcing me to cut back further on breathing in order to see just where I had to go.

Behind Solar and through a darkened hallway, I jumped with surprise when my hoof attempted to step on thin air. The realization I had of this sudden staircase thankfully went unnoticed, and cautiously, I made my way down the short flight.

We entered the chamber through an opened steel hatch, into a windowless, all-concrete room, joining some others already gathered in a neat formation of eight per, taking the shape of squares. Myself and Solar joined the second front formation at the lower right corner with me behind him.

For minutes, we remained still, others trickling in two at a time and creating two more squares behind us. Some cold chills ran up our spines to the atmosphere around us. Notably, some ponies' breathing quickened without a fresh supply of oxygen coming through. These masks, at the moment, were utterly useless, other than forcing us to breathe our own carbon dioxide, also known as the silent killer.

Not one of us—minus the ranked uniforms also present—had not been startled by the bang of the two-inch-thick doors sliding shut and locking, bringing on another silence above the heavy breathing.

Simultaneously, though, yet silently, a greenish-yellow gas filled the room, fogging it severely.

Through his mask, one Marine called out. "Tag your battle buddy, the one in front of you!"

At his order, I stretched a hoof forward, placing it on Solar's right shoulder, while he did the same to the pony in front of him.

"Remove your masks and hold them up for everypony to see!"

Here we go.

Raising my other hoof, I grasped the front of the mask, straining to pull it up and off of my head, relieving the pressure-migraine it created the moment the straps constricted minutes prior. Upon removing the mask, I took in a deep breath. Big, terrible mistake.

My lungs seemed to catch fire the second I breathed in. My eyes shot wide open, also burning as the fog met them. They began to water severely, tears running down my cheeks forcefully. With a shaky hoof, I raised my mask up, along with many others, collectively hacking and gasping.

At every mouthful of air I took, no longer able to properly use my nose to breathe as it burned as well, my throat and lungs exploded in an awful, stinging flare. I squinted my eyes every other second, blinking rapidly and sniffling in an attempt to clear my nostrils.

For every second that passed, an eternity followed. In reality, we probably only stood with our masks off for thirty or so seconds. Words simply cannot describe how tremendously unpleasant these conditions were.

About a minute into exposure, my hooves gave out from behind, my hoof removing from Solar's shoulder. I moved it to my muzzle, hacking heavily onto it. For the two seconds I could keep my eyes open between blinks, I just hardly made out a reddish substance now on my hoof, narrowly standing out against the darkness of my coat color.

Solar snapped his head back, blinking with either eye to keep track of his surroundings. They both shot wide open as he saw me partially lying on the floor in dire ailment. He turned around, removing his hoof from the pony ahead, focusing on standing me back up, his initial efforts not enough at first.

"Star—" he coughed out heavily twice. "—come on, get back up!" he gravelly said, tugging on my hoof, dropping the mask in it to the floor.

Despite his struggles to pull me upright, no strength of mine mustered to do so. In fact, I was not even aware of him trying to stand me up. Fear gripped me, heart racing, mind strongly set on the idea that the gas was slowly working its way to ending my life. That is, the way it made breathing as painful as it did, much of me would be thankful if it did put me out of this misery.

My eyes, sight strictly hampered by the constant buildup of tears in them, shifted upwards to an alarmed Solar and just hardly able to make out his lighter-shaded self silhouetted beneath a small ceiling light.

Without further attempts to convince me into standing up, he grunted, teeth clenching, yanking me up with both hooves. Three of my own caught the floor, straightening as I was pulled upright, the other remaining close to my maw to catch any more fluids I might hurl up.

This time, Solar kept his one limb looped around, us both putting in the strength to ensure neither of us would collapse.

Before long, the gas cleared by giant fans, replacing it with fresh air. Fellow trainees, ourselves included, continued to cough and sniff, retaining a burning sensation all the way down to our throat and lungs, eyes glassy, but the tear production gradually ceasing. The other Marines removed their masks, having not suffered these past few minutes, much to our dismay.

"The burning and dryness will vanish over the next few days. Line up, head out to your instructors. Go!"

***

A tear tapped on the grass at my hooves, nostrils growing and shrinking at a quickening pace, breathing picking up. My body shuddered, head low while I sat before the granite headstone, engraved with Solar's name.

Anchorage walked up, firmly patting my shoulder twice. "All right, that's enough sulking for one day."

Author's Note

At long last, chapter 8 is here! Wanted this one to be less-action filled and more of a sadder type of chapter, especially with what's to come in the near future. Also, flashback time!

9. Deployment's Eve

A gentle shower pattered against the windows, the street lamp outside shining in the raindrops as they rolled steadily down the glass. I sat there in the booth seat, closer to the wall and chin resting on the table, gaze fixed on the window as it had been for the last ten minutes since we stopped in to grab some dinner.

"He's still out of it," Silver said, taking his focus off of me.

"He will be for the night. Maybe tomorrow, too," Anchorage responded with a frown, ripping open a sugar packet and mixing it into his tea.

Silver's ears drooped a bit, glancing back at me. "Perhaps... it wasn't the grandest of ideas to bring him out here."

"He needed this, and so did we," Anchorage looked up, stirring his drink slowly with a straw. "It's been almost three months, and soon, we'll be underway. It'll be months more before any of us feel our normal selves again."

"Maybe you guys. I'm okay now, I've moved on," Nightpath added frankly, straightening his back a bit.

"Well, good for you," Anchorage scowled. "Not everypony had a grim past to help with the present."

Night's lips curled in a frown. "I'm sorry, Anchor, I didn't know Solar that well. I'm upset, really, I am, it's just..."

"You feel like you shouldn't be too emotional because he was not your friend?" Anchorage continued for him, still glowering with a brow slightly raised.

"If... that's the way to put it," Night replied, ears falling.

"Shameful," Anchorage turned his nose up, facing away and scowl holding. "You fought beside him, you watched him die. How can you not be—"

I raised my head, glancing at white pegasus. "Drop it, Anchorage, please. If Night feels that way, let him. Everyone has different emotions."

Night nodded at that, turning down to Anchorage.

The pegasus sighed. "So be it," then took a swig of his tea after a full minute of stirring.

"Hey, he's back," Silver smiled faintly. "How are you feeling?"

"What Anchorage said, I'll be better by tomorrow morning," I glanced away from the beige unicorn and back to the window, observing a pair of ponies beneath an umbrella walking past.

"That's good to hear, at least," Silver replied. "And, you know, I've been thinking guys."

Only Night's eyes focused on him.

"I joined to be in the Navy, and... well, you see, when I met Star, I got... a little too comfortable, you know?" Silver started, Anchorage turning to him now.

"I have just been pondering on it lately, I feel it would be best if I..." he trailed off.

I glanced across to Silver. "Best if you what?"

Silver frowned, eyes setting on the table in front of him. "You know what, now isn't really a good time to discuss it. Another time."

Neither of us paid much mind to it, rather questioning the status of our food and when it would be served.

***

After dinner, the four of us put bits together to rent a motel room for the evening, it being the only option atop another inn toward the center of town, a simple yet expensive one. We each had our concerns about lodging in a sleazy, probably roach-infested single-bedroom, knowing just how terrible cheap rooms can be.

In a way, it surpassed our expectations, walking into the room. Very small, with a bed, a nightstand, a small, old dresser, and a tiny bathroom with a burnt out light bulb, walls stained near the floor and one of the pipes sticking out of the ceiling, which was thankfully not dripping. Bright and early in the morning is when we'd hop back on the train to Manehattan, and finish up preparing for our ship-out date.

The motel's manager—more genuine than expected—provided extra blankets and pillows, realizing the four of us couldn't pack into a single twin bed, not that either of us wanted to in the first place. With my wonky patterns, in a bed or not, I was bound to miss sleep regardless. Doing so with three other exhausted stallions couldn't alter that in any sort of way.

Initially, it was Anchorage who concluded he deserved the bed. Being the only sailor among our little band, he felt that gave him the right to reserve the bed. Silver Edge came out next, then Nightpath. I outed myself from the argument, well aware of my sleep issues.

Eventually, we all agreed on letting Night rule the bed. After all, out of the four of us, he was the biggest, and the bed fit him just. What probably actually made Anchorage and Silver back out was a cockroach sighting under the pillow, or the possibility of one lurking the sheets. Neither of them truly desired dirtying their hooves, or themselves period.

With Night sprawling across the bed and stretching out, and Silver and Anchorage laying on their blankets on either side of the bed, I too decided to call it an evening, laying down flatly on a thin blanket and a pillow, keeping my clothes on to remain somewhat warm without the room's space heater working.

Slipping my cover down over my eyes, I closed them and relaxed on the pillow, hoping to drift off quickly this time.

Yet, while I sat perfectly still, eyelids shut and breathing steady, my mind kept going. Thought after thought, after thought, nonstop, for what felt like an eternity. Thinking on it, an active mind is probably what keeps me up for all this time, something I'd have to discuss with Pastel some time soon.

My ear flicked, catching the soft snores of Silver and Night having already passed out. Anchorage had always been the quiet sleeper, so it passed me entirely that he may still be awake, hearing me shifting about behind him while he lay on his side, facing Night's bed.

Over the course of a few minutes, I quietly sighed, forehooves spread at my sides and staring up at the dark space in my cap, then at the ceiling after flicking it off. For a solid minute and a half, my gaze fixed on the empty space above—or a yellowing stain masked by the darkness for all I knew.

Eventually, I sat up, doing so silently as to not wake the others, and sneaked out the door to the open corridor outside hanging above the first floor.

A gentle rain showered, trickling off the edges of the roof above and past the iron railing I leaned against. I frowned lightly, watching the rain fall in the light of a pole in the corridor of the C-shaped structure, pattering down on a plastic tarp covering the curve-edged rectangular swimming pool, having been emptied before winter's arrival.

A stallion quietly cleared his throat from behind, a door clicking shut behind him. I glanced behind, still leaning on the bars, finding Anchorage standing just beyond our room's door, staring with a look of concern.

"Everything all right, buddy?" He asked, stepping up to my side, not removing his eyes off once.

I blinked twice, exhaling softly, and turning to face the rain coming down. "Not as much as I want it to be."

"Is it about Solar?" he flatly asked. He truly couldn't have been spot on so immediately as he was.

"That, among other things. Where do I even start?"

"Wherever you like," he responded, opening a pocket flap and reaching in.

I exhaled softly through my nostrils, a frown remaining on my muzzle while my eyes set on the falling raindrops. "Pardon my language, but to start off, I'm getting fuck all for sleep. Two, maybe three hours every night, four or five on good nights."

"Have you done anything about it?" Anchorage questioned, bringing out a pack of cigarettes and a stainless steel lighter, though I hadn't yet noticed and kept facing forward.

"Melatonin, sleeping with and without clothes, even a breathing apparatus."

"Breathing apparatus?" He placed a single cigarette in his mouth, leaning his head down slightly to his hoof and the lighter, flicking the lid and lighting the flame.

"Yeah, ponies with sleep apnea use the—Anchorage!" I glanced at him, eyes widened.

He jumped slightly, eyes meeting mine, the lid of the lighter cutting the flame before the tip of the cigarette could begin burning. Quickly, he took the cigarette from his mouth and hid it behind him. "What?"

I narrowed my eyes on him. "Don't bother hiding it, I already saw it."

Anchorage sighed, bringing it back out of hiding, holding it in his hoof and staring down at it. "It's a new thing..."

"Not marijuana, right?"

"What?! No!" He snapped his head up, ice-blue eyes glaring. "That's illegal."

"That's why I'm making sure it's not weed," I rolled my eyes, resting my fores against the railing again. "Whatever, you do you. But, how long?"

"How long?" Anchorage blinked twice in a brief silence. "Three... weeks?"

"What kick started it?"

"I don't know, really. Just... walked into a store one day, bought a pack, started from there," he said, plucking the small box from his pocket, it being half empty. "Same pack. I don't smoke every day..."

"Right, right. But, I don't believe for a second that it just 'popped up'. What got you into smoking?"

The greyish-white pegasus let off a small, almost silent sigh. "One of... the petty officers stepped outside during lunch, he offered a smoke, and I took it."

I raised an eyebrow at that.

"Okay, so he was persuasive, big deal," he groaned, facing away, also leaning on the railing, having tucked the cigarette back into his pocket.

"But, why? You're the cleanest stallion I know these days. Not that I have a problem with you doing it, it just... surprises me. I guess you're just one of those ponies I don't expect to light one out of the blue," I glanced at him. "Who else knows?"

"That petty officer, Ashfall, a couple other sailors, but, that's about it," he responded, almost in a tone that made him sound unproud of himself.

Gently, I placed a hoof on his shoulder. "Don't take it so harshly, that's your thing to do, and your thing only. I'm not going to start judging now. Just, one thing?"

"Hmm?" He kept facing away, ears drooping slightly.

"Don't get too addicted. Too much, and it will kill you in your forties."

"I'm tryin' to stop."

"Are you? How?"

He sighed again. "I don't know. As long as I'm smoking every two days and not every day, that's a start, right?"

"In a way," I nodded. "If not, there are patches you could wear."

"I already have patches, they're on my uniform."

"On your skin, dummy," I nudged his shoulder playfully. "I don't know how they work, but, ponies who use them end up dropping tobacco entirely. Just a suggestion."

Anchorage slowly turned to face me, cracking a very small smile. "Thanks, Star. I'll give it a go when we're home."

I nodded, smiling back weakly. "Atta boy. Just know, this is all a personal suggestion. I cannot stop you from doing what you love."

"I love working on ships, not smoking cigarettes on a motel balcony," Anchorage responded flatly, his smile gone in an instant.

"You know what I mean," I said, gazing back at the rain, a strong breeze blowing one of the trickles of rain into my face, drenching it with cold water.

That at least brought a chuckle out of Anchorage, while I blinked my eyes and wiped down my face. Now I would be awake for a while longer with that cold shock to the nervous system.

***

Having checked out and grabbed a quite bite, then raced to the station platform by morning, we arrived in Manehattan just before ten, and back on base by eleven.

From there, the four of us decided to plan these 'day trips' in advance, when we each had more money in our pockets. Thankfully, we each hardly had enough to take a carriage across the river and walk the remaining two miles.

And finally, a well-longed for distraction: deployment navigational planning. At some point it was likely I'd need the Eclipse's navigational officer, Sea Watch, to help out and possibly spend another lengthy evening with the computer documents, that would later need printing off.

What came as a slight startle was a weather application installed on the system giving warning of a storm system far southeast of Equestria's coasts, with a predicted path to bring it toward the planned route.

Setting the work aside in a minimized tab for just this moment, I examined the reports of the storm. On radar and satellite images, it appeared as an abnormally large cluster of thunderstorms having rapidly developed in just twenty-four hours.

With this new formation, nothing good typically comes out of a weather system much like this one. The stranger part was the fact of how early in the year for any sort of tropical development. Warmer waters near the equator that remained a toasty temperature year-round were likely feeding this, but the cliff of colder water just a couple hundred miles north would determine its true fate.

Regardless, this updated information would also need to be added to the report due to Shadow in a couple of days—and also meant a slight tweak had to be made to the path on the map. Even if these storms didn't hold together this far north, likeliness is Shadow would be upset with a path sailing us through rough seas when they could have been avoided.

Side by side, I ran two simulations—one of the horseshoe-shaped route of the ship, the other of the thunderstorm cluster's forecast. What caught my attention was the rapid change in wind direction, and the integrity of the archipelago of storms as they continued a north-northwesterly track, taking them, once more, across our path.

I blinked with bewilderment, rewinding and replaying the track. At the Eclipse's maximum safe speed—the highest sustained speed without overheating the engines—and with how quickly northbound winds traveled along the coast of the continent up toward Equestria, in no plausible way could we outrun or navigate around the weather without the slightest bit of oceanic turbulence.

Groaning and rubbing my temples in a circle, I came to the realization that this would need explained to Shadow in the next briefing between myself, Sea Watch, and him, and at any moment I would expect him to address how wrong I am, and how much I screwed up on this assignment.

Hours into the work, I closed the laptop and laid flat on my bed, closing my eyes in hopes of battling a stress-induced migraine.

Author's Note

I must apologize for the shorter chapters as of lately. I promise these next couple of chapters will be much longer!

10. Rough Seas

I looped a hoof through the strap of my seabag and brought it up over my shoulder, turning to Nightpath while he followed suit. "Well, you ready?"

"More ready than I'll ever be," he responded, exhaling softly. "Pack everything you needed?"

I shrugged. "More or less, we'll find out."

"What about your computer? You taking that?"

"Nah, it's not all that important anymore. Everything I needed on it is in Shadow's hooves now, and I'm pretty sure the ship doesn't have a free wifi connection."

Night chuckled slightly at that. "All right, then. To the ship?"

"To the ship," I nodded once, turning and trotting to the door and out, Nightpath following behind, then locking the handle.

Waiting for him, then beginning to walk, we headed toward the docks where hundreds of sailors waited. Days like these granted friends and family access to the base to say their goodbyes before the voyage ahead. Without any family members to bid farewell to, Night and I would stand among those, antsy to set sail.

Through the crowds we walked, keeping our eyes peeled for the others. As if by miracle, we found the three closer to the edge of the water.

"There they are," Silver Edge smiled in our direction. "Took you guys long enough."

"Got carried away with sleep, forgot to pack last night," I sheepishly smiled, eyes darting to Anchorage, who frowned. "Hey, buddy, where are your parents?"

"You mean my mother?" the white-grey pegasus replied. "Couldn't come, sick at home."

"And... your father?" my head cocked.

"My stepfather? Pro'lly off at a strip club in Winneighpeg, or some shit," he grunted slightly.

"He is your stepfather?" Night blinked twice.

Anchorage nodded, rubbing his forehead. "Was. Not even a year of marriage and for a second time my mother is heartbroken."

"Oh, no. I'm sorry, man," I said, lowering my ears. "Anything we can do?"

"Nah, there's no need to worry about it. I didn't like him that much, anyway. Could never replace the original pops, y'know?" he replied, evidently faking a smile.

"So... what happened to him?" I asked, only to be met with silence between them. "...Anchorage?"

The white-grey pegasus stood up, snatching his seabag suddenly. "That's for another time," then was off.

The four of us watched him leave, all with concerned looks on our faces. I turned slowly to Ashfall and Silver. "Did I say something wrong?"

Ash raised a hoof, gesturing for me to come closer, which I did. He leaned in, whispering. "He lost his father almost a decade ago, when he was in the Junior Reserves."

My eyes grew wide. I looked the green stallion dead in the eyes. "What happened?"

"Suicide. Him and his mother had concerns for a while before that, but it still came as sudden when they thought he was improving," Ash continued, face stuck between concern and seriousness.

"So, it still irks him to this day. I see now. I'll watch out, then," I nodded once.

Ash returned the nod. "Would be for the best. He'll feel better later on, or tomorrow, it depends. It doesn't stick with him long, that's all I can really tell you."

I nodded again. Regardless, it sort of hit me wrong to only just this very moment learn of this, even after almost a year of knowing Anchorage. Well, not a year. That wouldn't be until at least September or October.

It wasn't long after that where sailors begun boarding via narrow metal walkways stretching from the dock up to the starboard hull, where watertight hatch doors had been built into the side for easier access.

The process took at least two hours to get everypony on board, and sailors lined along the edges of the flight deck in a spread-leg, straightened posture, stretching from the front of the ship to the very rear.

Those remaining on the docks below were either friends or family, with some Marines here and there, watching over the crowds, or having abandoned their post briefly to say goodbye to somepony they knew.

I walked through the overly-packed corridors with my friends, carrying our seabags to our sleeping quarters: a narrow, cramped room with four bunks partially built into the walls, and a very small wood desk—shelf, table, whatever anypony would like to call it—beneath a small circular window with bolts along the edge, facing out toward the base.

The four of us parted ways, each heading off to our respective stations. Nightpath—the reactor, Ashfall—the armory, Silver Edge—the janitor closet, Anchorage—who knows where, and myself—the bridge.

***

Before we could leave port, the other ships in the fleet pulled out one by one and began steaming east, out into the open ocean and regrouping. We would soon follow, but spread apart the further out to sea we would go.

"Permission to enter the bridge, Captain," I sternly requested, halted at the door into the room.

"Permission granted, radarpony. Good to see you again," the greenish-blue earth pony responded, going over some papers on a clipboard and not once looking up.

"Likewise, sir," I replied with a nod.

Stepping onto the bridge and immediately taking a seat at my station, I scooted the chair in, then individually fired up three digital monitors on the desk before me. Each one displayed different regional maps. Left screen, sky radar. Center, weather radar, and right, sonar.

My sole duty aboard this ship is to keep a close eye on each of the screens, and occasionally read data to provide weather updates to the bridge and advise course corrections if necessary. Anomalies on sky radar or sonar would be transmitted below deck, where fire controlponies or pilots on the flight deck would remain on standby in the event of attack.

I can't say it is exactly strange being a Marine in this position. Stations on the bridge are typically handed over to sailors, assuming they have the proper training for it. My day-to-day replacement—the one to take over after my shift ends—was a sailor, though.

Then again, having a bit of a long-term relationship with the commanding officer played a major role in it, too. Without his inspiration, I most certainly would not be sitting here, on the bridge, at this desk, observing three computer screens. Hell, I wouldn't have enlisted at all for that matter. Though, I couldn't help but feel for the pony who dreamed of sitting in this chair.

The navigational officer, Sea Watch, glanced away from his screen and to Shadow. "Captain, where is Lieutenant Ping?"

"Lieutenant Ping will not be joining us this time around. As it turns out, lack of staff due to this year's flu season has prompted her to take the reins of the Academy," he responded from the coffee machine behind me at the rear of the room, between the stairwell door and the restroom.

He turned around, holding his well-known (on the bridge, that is) mug, filled to the brim with steaming hot coffee. He took a brief sip of it, striding to the his chair in front-center of the room. "More so, the main reason she accompanied us on the bridge last year is when we were ordered back out to sea on such short notice, and we had those pirates to deal with. This is far different. If anything, it should be more routine."

Placing his mug off to the side, Shadow picked up the VHF and switched frequencies with a couple twists of a knob, then pressing down on the side of the radio. "This is the L.R.S. Eclipse, ready for undocking," he switched the knob again, speaking into the hoof-held microphone. "Seal the hatches and raise anchor."

Workers along the pier began retracting the walkways used to board, while ponies on board closed and locked the bulkhead doors along the starboard hull. In a neat line, sailors stood along the edge of the flight deck at attention, looking over the docks with friends and family gathered below, waving goodbye for these next couple of months.

As soon as the thick ropes holding the Eclipse to the dock released, Shadow once more changed frequencies, this time to a pair of small tugboats on standby. "Anchors aweigh. Eclipse is ready to leave port."

"Roger, Eclipse," the captain of one of the smaller vessels responded, and almost as soon as the announcement went out, as if by magic, the massive carrier steadily drifted evenly to the left, before slowly turning around in the river and coming to a halt, facing eastward.

The tugboats cleared our port side and moved out of the way, just in time for Shadow to pick up an onboard phone that announced throughout the whole of the ship, giving the signal to start the propellers.

A low hum vibrated all around as the massive engines roared to life, and with incrementally-rising speed, we began moving away from port, passing beneath the Manehattan Bridge, the gateway to the open ocean from the river.

Out in the distance, silhouetted by haze of the afternoon and beginning to sink beneath the horizon sailed the rest of the fleet, slowing down to grant us time to catch up and create a ship formation.

At maximum speed of thirty knots, Manehattan grew smaller and smaller behind us, the bright sun of mid-afternoon shining off the enormous skyline and the calm sea.

Other ships in the area made way for us as we closed distance between the guided-missile destroyers, frigates, and other vessels steaming east—one of them being the L.R.S. Gibbous, the ship I had been made aware months ago that stationed Silver's higher-ranking uncle.

It was not long before the city disappeared entirely, instead replaced with the endless horizon of bright, low-wave ocean beneath a near-cloudless sky. For once, it seemed the weather was in our favor. I imagine this was the calm before the real storm.

***

At long last, shift rotation came along. My evening replacement took over, allowing for me to head to the mess deck for dinner, and maybe sit down for a little chat with either Anchorage or Silver, assuming their shifts had finished for the night as well.

Half of my body tugged all of me to the left side of the corridor, in a tug-of-war battle between either hemispheres as I contemplated heading straight for bed, or to grab something to eat before then.

The rumbling of my empty stomach broke the feud, ultimately leading to me deciding on dinner first and foremost. With as weak of a sleeping schedule as I currently had, trying to doze off while hungry was not the best of ideas. Then again, ponies always say never to eat before bed, either. I'm not too entirely sure what to believe these days.

Much to my joy, the line of sailors waiting in the galley for chefs to serve them food looked decently short. I soon joined in from behind, taking a plastic dinner tray from the top of a stack, moving each time the line did, and eventually reaching the front.

For tonight's meal: warm, plain oatmeal, a fruit cup, and a little carton of milk. Not much compared to previous dinners underway, but, it'll do. I sat down at an empty table, stabbing a straw through a plastic-covered hole in the carton and taking a sip, washing away the bitter taste left behind from two cups of black coffee hours prior.

Placing it beside the tray and taking the spoon in a hoof, I dipped it into the faintly-steaming slop, bringing it just up to my muzzle and blowing carefully on the contents, and taking it in carefully.

The moment the oatmeal met my tongue, I shuddered in disgust, but didn't spit it back out. The chef did not joke around when he said it was plain oatmeal. Quite literally, all that made it was oats and warm water, not even a pinch of cinnamon added.

It certainly was not the most bitter food I have tasted. On the contrary, it sat near the top of my list, and quite frankly, I hoped it would never be served again while I am on board, nor would I be willing to give up a perfectly-fine cup of diced fruit and mix it into the brown goop as a test to improve the overall flavor.

With one aftertaste gone, the oatmeal almost immediately replaced the coffee. At least I knew it would not last long, assuming I don't somehow receive food poisoning in the next few minutes and wind up sleepless.

A food tray dropped just across from mine, the noise startling and making me snap my gaze up from the bowl of oatmeal on my own. Sitting down with a tired grumble on the opposite side of the table was Anchorage, coming down a lot more steady than his tray.

"Man, you don't look so good. What happened?" I asked innocently. Might as well see if he is still upset about earlier.

"Where do I begin?" he replied, eyes falling to a bowl of dry cereal. He took his milk carton and ripped the top open, pouring the contents out into the bowl, and scooping some into his mouth, chewing slowly. "First day, and the bastards are already breaking shit."

"What broke?" my head cocked. I still didn't have a clue what he did on this blasted ship.

"Just some rusted pipes in need of replacing, a couple of generators, then a bunch of wires near the reactor room. Neither of them gave me a good time. The ponies, too," he grumbled out, not once lifting his gaze.

"I see," I slowly nodded. "Hey, listen, about earlier..."

The handle of his spoon dropped, clinking against the glass. That perked him up.

"No, don't apologize. It was all me, Star, and you didn't know. Ash probably told you by now, so... I won't go into the details. It is me who should apologize for my little outburst, which I do," he said, icy-blue eyes fixing on the cherry of mine.

"Still," I waved a hoof. "I feel bad, and I apologize, too. I'm sorry about your father."

"Thank you," he nodded, returning his attention to his cereal bowl. "I should probably move on, anyways. It's been almost a decade since it happened."

"Things like that aren't so easy to move on from. Same with Solar. It's been three months and I remember it like it happened yesterday."

"Because it's a traumatizing experience. It haunts me, too, as it does the rest of us, I'm sure," he motioned his hooves slightly. "I didn't see my father die. I was away when it happened."

"Vacation?" I asked, hesitantly taking another bite of the tasteless oatmeal.

Anchorage shook his head. "Junior Officer Naval Reserves. Parents signed me up for my birthday, and the camp was in Alderneigh, so I was away from home for a few months. They took care of my high school education because I hadn't graduated yet, so it was like... home away from home. I wrote back often, then the letters just... stopped."

"That's... when it happened?" my muscles tensed slightly.

Lowering his gaze just slightly, he nodded. I took note of his ears losing their perk, and his eyes becoming more reflective as some tears were beginning to build. Before they could, he lifted a hoof and wiped at both of his eyes individually. "I came home as soon as I heard the news, and I didn't stop running the second I stepped off the boat."

"You live on an island, right? Bander... Cove?"

"Gander Cove," he nodded again. "It's just off the northeast coast, it's near the border of the Crystal Empire. Pretty remote. Then again, this was before they build the Narrows."

"The Narrows?"

"It's a train bridge to connect the island to the mainland. Before, it was just a ferry to and from the town."

I nodded in understanding. "From what you describe, it sounds like a nice place. And cold, it sounds very cold."

"Cold for you, maybe," he cracked a grin. "I love it."

"What are you, Caneighdian?" I chuckled softly.

"Nah, Equestrian. Close, though," the grin retained on his muzzle, before he returned to eating his cereal, going silent for a few long moments. "So, when is this storm coming?"

"Storm?" I stopped, blinking, about to scoop in some more oatmeal. It took a few moments for his question to process in my drowsy state. "Oh, the storm. Yeah. I'm not quite sure. A week, maybe. It's moving pretty fast."

"Does the captain know?"

"I informed him first thing. He said because of the angle it's coming in, we can't exactly change course without risking missing our target."

"Our target? The strange signals, right? The reason why we're out here?"

I nodded. "The majority of them are in the storm's path, so, there's a chance we might not be able to find all of them. If the storm so changes direction in the slightest, slows down, or even comes to a halt when it hits the jet stream to the north, we'll have to turn back."

"Sounds rough. Is it named?"

"What?"

"The storm, is it named?" Anchorage repeated, eyes darting back and fourth from the spoonful of cereal lifting to his maw.

"Not that I am aware of. It's only March, it is way too early for this kind of weather. Last I checked, it wasn't expected to strengthen, but you know the Antlertic. It's unpredictable most of the time."

"Yeah, you ain't wrong there," he nodded, lifting the bowl up to his mouth and drinking the rest of the milk inside, setting it back down and letting out a contented sigh, standing up. "Well, I'm gonna take this up to the galley, then head on over to the computer room and say hello to my mother."

I perked up a bit, watching him stand. "Computer room?" I blinked in bewilderment.

Anchorage's smile dropped into an equally-confused look, tilting his head. "Yeah, where we can talk to family underway. You... didn't know about that?"

"Nobody ever told me," I motioned my hoof, standing up. "So, the ship does have internet?"

He furrowed his brow, slowly nodding. "Of course it does. Why?"

Damn it, I should have brought that laptop with me, come to realize this late. This changes everything! Now I don't have to lay around off duty. Now I could talk to Ray!

...

Ray.

***

I took a seat in an office chair in front of a desk and a computer monitor, reaching forward to take the wire-attached mouse in my hoof, placing my other just below the keyboard.

"All right, so, internet access isn't too restricted. Most commonly, sailors use Whynnie. It's a chat program where you can call ponies and even see them through a webcam. Pretty cool, right?" Anchorage explained, grinning.

"How did I not know about this?" I mumbled to myself, moving the mouse in a circle and locating the arrow on the screen. "What now?"

Anchorage reached his hoof, setting it on mine, and moving it along with the mouse to a blue circle with a white 'W' in the center, clicking on it twice. In the same moment, a window opened on the screen.

"Now, you can sign in if you already have an account, or you can just sign in as a guest. I recommend the first one, though. Logging in as a guest can make it harder for friends and family to recognize you."

From there, Anchorage showed me how to create an account to use, which I would then have to log off after my time is up to ensure the next pony wouldn't mess with anything of mine. The process took a few minutes, and finally, I was logged on!

"There you go. Let me know if you want to know anything else, aye?" he patted my shoulder, trotting off down the room to a vacant computer to talk to his mother.

Now came the tricky part. Without a clue of how to contact Ray—assuming he is online to begin with, or even used this application—my attempts to find him would likely be futile, not that I am willing to let that get in the way of checking up on him. Hell, he probably wasn't even aware of my deployment.

In the little search bar at the top, I typed carefully on the keyboard as to not mistype his name, searching under the name 'Ray Blitz'.

Evidently, more ponies shared his name. This at least narrowed the search down just a bit to where it was now just a guessing game of who is the correct one I am looking for.

I checked over each individual profile displayed, until I found him. Of course, what confirmed it was most definitely the picture listed on the profile—quite literally one of himself, grinning widely with a pair of headphones over his ears, sitting in a room similar to that of a radio talk show. Close enough.

Taking in a deep breath, letting it out quietly, I clicked down on the call button, sitting back as a new window opened, displaying myself like a mirror on the screen with the webcam atop the monitor now turned on. Putting my hooves together, relaxed into the chair, I stared worriedly at the screen, hoping he would answer the call.

As if a wave washed away my concerns, a second camera opened on the screen, displaying a golden pegasus on the opposite end. A smile grew on his muzzle moments after. "Star!"

"Ray!" I straightened my back, shifting in my seat. "Glad I could finally call you. What are you up to?"

"Not much, just making some dinner. What about you?" He then squinted, looking in closer to his screen. "Where are you?"

"I'm..." I stopped, looking around me. "I'm on the Eclipse. About a hundred and ten or so miles east-southeast of Manehattan."

"You're on the ship?" His eyes grew, blinking twice with surprise. "Whoa. How long?"

"Since this afternoon. We've got a busy schedule ahead of us, so I wanted to drop by before everything happens."

"I appreciate it," he smiled. "Stay safe out there, I heard there's a nasty storm forming."

"Oh, I'm aware of it. The commanding officer, my boss—" I gestured my hoof. "—had me and somepony else plan out our path. The whole bridge knows of it, and we will be keeping a watchful eye out. We're certain it will pass right over us, but it's going to be rough."

Ray shuddered, making a little creeped out groan as he did. "Don't go swimming, I mean it."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I grinned softly. "I would if you were drowning, though."

Though it was faint due to some pixelation on the screen, I noted a small blush form on his cheeks. "Aww, how sweet. But, you and I both know I'll never go anywhere near the ocean, simple as that."

"You're missing out, I hear the beaches of Mareami are packed with mares this time of year. Spring break, you know?" I joked.

It brought a chuckle out of Ray, making me smile more. "You're better than any mare, that's for sure. That's a compliment, by the way."

"Suuuure it was," I laughed.

"It was, you big dork," he sighed contently, laying down in front of the camera. "Tell me we'll see each other when you're back, right?"

"I'll make arrangements," I nodded, smiling warmly. "We have a loooong two months ahead."

"Mmm, I'll be patient," he blinked slowly. "I miss you, Star."

"I miss you, too, Ray."

We may have just met in January, and have seen each other quite a few times since then, but it seemed to have a quick start. At this point, it would be absurd to not admit it as it truly is—a relationship. With another stallion. Now that I ponder on the matter, it's not so bad after all.

I hoped this was not a phase of some sort, or that it was all just for play. Ray genuinely was an admirable pony, and my heart skipped beats and danced every time we set eyes on one another.

He seemed to have the same feelings as I had towards him, enough to where I could almost deny for a fact that he was not putting on an act. That was good enough for me.

"Well, I will let you go so you can have your dinner. I'll try and call as often as I can, maybe every few days if things don't get too chaotic, alright?" I said, sitting forward.

"Sounds good to me," he nodded, setting a hoof on his keyboard. "Stay safe."

"I will," I nodded back. "Talk to you later."

"See you," he smiled, before the window closed, and the call ended.

I leaned into the back of the chair, smiling at the screen, even after we both hung up. In spite of my exhausted state, these past couple of minutes talking to Ray boosted myself just a tad, and I only further looked forward to next time.

***

Yawning silently, more lethargic than ever, I strode out of the computer room in the center of the ship and stopped at the corridor along the starboard side of the carrier, turning right to head towards the rear, in the direction of our bunk room. Anchorage remained in the computer room, probably still talking to his mother, or whoever he decided to call or chat with over Whynnie.

At long last, bed time. Perhaps tonight, I will finally have a decent rest and actually wake up with energy come morning. Those were my hopes for the moment.

As I turned to walk through the hatch, I froze, lifting my gaze to an arctic-blue earth pony sitting along the edge of my bed, wearing a uniform of the Navy, and was only missing his cover, which sat on the little desk between beds.

He rubbed along the upper of his arm, near his shoulder, glancing up to look at me, smiling nervously. "Hey, Star."

"Do I... know you?" I cocked my head, then shook it. "I believe you have the wrong room."

"That may be so," he stood up, steadily approaching, his hips swaying slightly. "But I'm right where I want to be."

Before I could react, the arctic blue earth pony suddenly grabbed me by the shoulders, forcing me against the wall, pressing his chest against mine. He kicked the hatch door shut with his hoof, sliding the handle down to lock it.

My pupils dilated, my wings spreading out of reflex and smacking against the noticeably-stronger stallion. I squirmed relentlessly, grunting in effort, only to have my hooves pinned above my head and unable to break free from his grip. He grinned sultrily, leaning in closer.

"The name's Rondache, and I saw you with that little coltfriend of yours," he said quietly. "He's cute, what's his name?"

I remained quiet, my eyes locked with his, maw parted and body lightly shaking. He breathed softly through his nostrils, which rolled along my neck, sending a shiver up my spine.

"Mmm, too bad, I bet you're missing him all over. I can help with that," he whispered the last bit. My heart sank.

"I-I don't know what you want with me, but I w-want you to know, you won't get away with this th-that easy!"

"Shhh..." he pressed a wet rag over my muzzle, my eyes shooting even more wide. As quickly as it sank, my heart pounded in my chest in fear of what came next.

I tried to scream out to grab somepony's attention, only for the noises to be muffled entirely. Very slowly, the longer I breathed in through the cloth, my body began to fall limp, and everything faded to black.

Author's Note

First off, I'd like to apologize for the hiatus. Thankfully, with one of my other stories now finished, I have more time to focus on this one! Also, because it is strictly off-screen and vague, I will not be adding a sex tag to this story.

Stay tuned for chapter 11.

11. The Storm

In the minutes of empty, quiet space that encompassed my form, it seemed as if my mind had utterly shut itself off, leaving me staring into the endless, dreamless abyss of sleep. Not once in recent years had I fallen asleep that quickly.

Without a clue of how I managed to pull it off, I imagine tonight would be a once-in-a-while or never again event where nightmares don't manage to jolt me awake and scare off the sleep I so desperately needed.

Absolutely nothing about this went by as normal, even in the clouded state my mind sat in with no end in sight. After all of this time, why now? Why tonight?

From afar, a voice emanated. It was distorted, even as it gradually approached. It seemed to call my name, among other gibberish beyond my current capability to understand.

The space began to shift from pitch black, to a darker shade of grey, only steadily growing lighter by the moment. It wasn't too bright, even though my eyeballs ached to the change.

It soon engulfed me as a whole, enough to where shielding my eyes with a hoof did absolutely nothing. My hoof was actually completely nonexistent, but I was still there.

After a minute of silence, the voice, booming in my head, echoed off the walls of my brain. "Staaaar. Are you awake?"

Reluctantly, I trembled my eyelids open, parting my maw to silently yawn. I laid flat on my back, not beneath the covers of my bunk, with a little light from above a lower bunk across from mine being the only thing to let me regain my bearings within the tiny room.

Standing to my side, head just slightly lowered, the faint-white silhouette of a pegasus watched over me. The longer I took to adjust, the clearer his form in the darkness became.

Coming to at last, blinking wide open, I moved my gaze up to the ice of Anchorage's, yawning a second time. "I am now," I responded in a whisper.

A hardly-visible smile pursed the sailor's lips. "You were sleeping so soundly, I almost didn't want to wake ya."

This made me raise an eyebrow. "So, why did you?"

"It's almost six. You're usually up by now," Anchorage replied, stepping back as I slipped out from the narrow sleeping space.

"Six, huh?" I grunted out, stretching my forehooves, followed by my wings. "How long was I out?"

"You were when I walked in last night. Kinda hit me weird when I saw you still in your uniform, but I didn't think much of it. You must've been extremely tired."

I nodded, straightening my posture as a whole, tiredly blinking. "I was, to be quite frank with you. Felt good to not wake up."

Anchorage returned the nod, taking his jacket and sliding his hooves into the sleeves, buttoning it up neatly afterward. "That's good to hear. Thought I smelled something weird, though, like alcohol or somethin'."

"Alcohol?" I cocked my head, then shook it. "Couldn't have been me, I don't smuggle that stuff even if I wanted to."

"Well, I know that. You're still underage as it is," he said, chuckling. "It didn't last long, so I just sort of ignored it."

Evidently so. The only scent registering in my nostrils had been those of cleaning materials, steel, and old fabric, along with the extremely faint aroma of saltwater on the opposite side of the porthole. That was new, even after being on this ship twice prior to now.

I shrugged all of it off, snatching my cover from a little hook between my bunk and the one above it, following Anchorage out of the room and parting ways to head to our jobs, without a thought of having breakfast. Coffee on the bridge will have to suffice for now.

Second day, here we go.

***

I stood up from my station and circled around another desk to the coffee maker in the rear of the room. With a small click, I lifted up the machine's reservoir and held it beneath the sink faucet, filling it to the brim with water, and reattaching it to the machine.

Removing a lid from the top of the machine, I plucked out the old filter, grabbing a newer one from a box off to the side, and placing it inside, and lastly pressing a button to begin brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

Drop by drop at first, then a steady trickle as the machine did its work to gradually fill the pot. While it brewed, I returned to my seat across the room, sliding my chair in and glancing up as the radar sweep updated the map on all three screens.

For much of today, two weeks into the journey, the captain had been unusually absent, as discussed between those of us on the bridge. Apart from the occasional question as to why, it didn't really hit either of us as too terribly concerning.

Evidently, Shadow had his own quarters below deck where he even had a separate office to work outside of commanding the ship. Just more information I probably should have been made aware of months ago.

Pushing that discussion aside in my head, I focused more on the weather nearby. Alternating between a quick glance out the windshield and back and forth between monitors no more than a foot before my eyes, concern grew for the conditions in the distance off on our starboard.

Darkening cumulonimbi clustered over the sea's southern horizon, shifting north and bound to cross over our present heading. The waves steadily grew in size, caused by heavy winds spreading outward from rapid downdrafts within the approaching storm. The stronger the winds, the more violent the seas.

One question arose throughout the mid-afternoon, and it was asking whether or not we were sailing into a tropical cyclone, or a hurricane for short. Regardless, it was my word to ground the jets indefinitely, and without the captain on the bridge, my words meant squat to the sailor on watch for Shadow.

At last, the coffee machine finished brewing. I stood back up, returning to the little "bridge kitchen", as I now referred to it, refilling my cup to quite nearly the top ring of the paper cup.

From his position in the left-front corner, Tacimo, the senior chief petty officer and Shadow's other high-up aboard the Eclipse raised a pair of binoculars, focusing out toward the inclement weather. "Report, Shooter?"

I briefly glanced at him, using a narrow plastic straw to mix some sugar into my coffee, rushing just slightly back to my post and typing on the keyboard to open a window of data collected by numerous sensors around the ship, especially up top of the bridge, where multiple antennas sat and radar dishes constantly spun.

"Winds upwards of twenty-two knots, waves at one-point-five-two meters. Heavy precipitation sixteen nautical miles south-southeast of our current position, sir," I responded, checking over the information a second time as it updated every two seconds.

"Just what are we sailing into?" he said, less so of a question for either of us to answer. Truth is, even I had no clue.

Tacimo set his binoculars off to the side and took a sip of his own coffee, it having long cooled by this point, I'm sure. He reached right, picking up a phone receiver and dialing for the aircraft control room a couple levels down.

"How many jets do we have airborne?"

A silence followed as the pony on the other end responded.

"How far out?"

Another silence.

"All right. Reach out to each and every one of them, call 'em in. We've got nasty weather inbound, don't want to risk landing them in the middle of it."

He hung up, easing back into his seat, exhaling softly. "Before anypony questions it, I am aware that is not my call to make. I'm afraid we must make sacrifices while the captain is off bridge. Understood?"

"Yes, Senior Chief," we each responded.

Although realistically I concurred with his judgement, it was still my decision, one I had not muttered just yet. Sea Watch and the others knew that, as well, and so did Tacimo, I hoped. Despite regulations, his rank did much of the speaking for us.

If something were to happen to Shadow, he would be next in command over the Eclipse. Again, with regulations playing a major role, Shadow's other second-up, Arc Nobis, legally cannot be in control of the ship, knowing he is not even in the Navy to begin with.

Above all, it likely was more of a personal thing to assign Arc to such a position despite his choice of branch. After all, we were just Marines, and as said before, without knowing Shadow, I could have only dreamed of being a radarpony.

We only served as a primary defense for the ship in the event of an attack, and every so often have Marines gone elsewhere by aircraft, whether that be the Griffon Kingdom or Saddle Arabia, or other smaller nations having civil disputes—such as Ajerstan, mentioned in a briefing a month prior.

For what it is worth, any other job I couldn't have been more content with than that of a radarpony. In the end, it was still quite boring, staring at three screens day in and day out, surviving on nothing but hot coffee and pure hatred for landing myself in the military.

On the contrary, had I not followed Shadow's advice, I may never have met Solar, or Night, or Silver, who would have never introduced me to Anchorage or Ashfall, or Lieutenant Snow Storm, and later, Javelin Charm, and everypony else in between.

Atop being coworkers, we each shared a common interest and befriended one another—at least, most of us have. Perhaps the lieutenant's feelings were not mutual, and the second lieutenant's certainly were not except for Shadow and his own platoon, if he even still had one. Not once have I spotted Arc around others with his patch, which led to more questions that would take a decent amount of courage to step up and ask him about.

***

As the sky ignited in orange, and the sun lowered beneath the sea surface behind the ship, drops of rain pattered against the windows while we steadily sailed into the leading edge of the storm front.

The three jets missing from the deck came down safely one by one, hooks tangling into the wires upon landing and engines shutting off as their pilots hopped out through opened canopies, and ponies on the flight deck began strapping down the parked fighters in preparation for the storm.

Even before the sun could fully set, clouds and a thick fog of intense rain swallowed the ship entirely, as it did the remainder of the fleet in the area. Without a doubt, we were in it now.

As ordered by Tacimo, our engines slowed so as to not overcompensate for the high surf that made the Eclipse bob up and down roughly. Any objects not properly planted slid or rolled back and forth in the steady motion, one that could effortlessly make a newbie nauseous for days to come.

Before long, the weather radar screen filled entirely with nothing but color, ranging from the greens, to the yellows, along with patches of orange and red that closed in on the ship, signalling heavier showers beyond what we have experienced so far for the past twenty minutes.

The waves crested at or just above six meters—or twenty feet, enough to capsize a fishing vessel instantly—and along with the heavy bobbing as the ship continuously crashed through or rode over them, a habit of stopping my cup of coffee from tipping over and spilling across the desk and my lap.

For as violent as the Antlertic can get, one would assume some pony back at port would have implemented cup holders and other stationary tools to prevent objects such as pens and anything else that can easily slide around from doing so. Perhaps that's something I should mention one of these days in a briefing.

Lightning crackled across the angry sky, with bolts striking the water surface or stretching between clouds above, and with night figuratively and literally on the horizon, it proved to be our only way of visual contact. Times like these made me thankful for sonar in case we were on a collision course for another ship, an island, or a shoal that would only come into view minutes too late.

Strangely enough, however, sonar sputtered on the screen. The display itself malformed every few seconds, as if the storm hampered its ability to properly deploy signals, which even I knew to be next to impossible. Yet, weather and marine radar continued on like clockwork.

One possibility was that it is a technical failure below deck, and above all other two-hundred less-plausible explanations as to why it had begun this peculiar activity. Better yet, two more hours and it will be my replacement's problem, assuming it isn't solved before then.

By merely glancing in my direction, the senior chief petty officer took immediate notice of the concern plastered on my face, and he looped around to my desk, standing behind and to the left of my chair. "Is something wrong, Lance Corporal?"

For a split second, I narrowly avoided jumping at his sudden question, not taking my eyes off of the screens.

"Sonar is acting up, sir. Could be the storm interfering with the signal, maybe a fault in the mainframe," I responded, beginning to type on the keyboard.

Tacimo leaned in, one hoof on the back of my chair, closely examining the sonar monitor along with me. "Ship's in desperate need for an upgrade sooner or later, especially in the computers," he said, leaning back upright, then ordering, "Try rebooting the system."

"Aye, Senior Chief," I nodded once, glancing at the keyboard to watch myself input a command that would open the system configuration window.

Upon pressing the enter key, everything in the bridge went pitch black. Ceiling lights, computer monitors, everything. Beyond the windscreen, even the flight deck lights shut off, and the low hum of the engines a few decks down ceased entirely, the only noise remaining being that of the heavy rain pelting the windows, and muffled rumbles of thunder.

"What did you do?" he tossed a glare back at me, having stopped while returning to the front of the bridge.

I rapidly pressed certain buttons, attempting to restart my console. His question echoed by the mimicking of my self-conscience, as puzzled as everypony else in the room. "Nothing, sir! I didn't have a chance to reboot the sonar system!" I replied, looking forward over the monitors at him to meet his unwavering glower.

Almost as quickly as everything shut down, the lights came back on, and the turbines roared back to life, propelling the ship forward once more at a steady speed. Just like that, too, all of the computers on the bridge came back on line.

All four of us scanned around, some of us exchanging looks of bewilderment with one another. Despite the timing of the shortage, there is no way it could have been of my doing. Thankfully it seemed the senior officer had the same mindset.

"Must have been a lightning strike," he remarked, tone timid yet collected, stopping beside his chair to look outside, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the flood of rain and splashing seas rushing down the glass.

Realistically, a hit on the control room by a bolt of lightning would not have caused that, I knew that much.

Construction of such ships, even ones as old as the Eclipse, required the wiring throughout the vessel's skeleton to be surge-protected. More so, we'd have known if it truly was a lightning strike. There was no flash, nor had there been a startling crack of thunder.

I proceeded to shrug it off, lowering my gaze to the screens as they individually finished restarting, with all three displays returning to normal. Specifically the weather radar blew up with a multitude of color, as it had displayed before the strange surge.

A crackle came in through the maritime radio, garbling the voice trying to patch through. Tacimo picked up the receiver, lifting it to his muzzle and speaking into it. "Eclipse. Repeat?"

More crackling, the voice, barely audible, continuing to speak. Turning to the unicorn stallion seated across the room, Tacimo nodded once. The unicorn, Vernon, the bridge's communications officer, took a pair of headphones and placed them over his ears, lowering a little microphone boom from the speaker's side.

From where I sat, over the rumbling outside and some minor noise in the room, what came through the COMMO's headset was strictly silent to everypony but himself. He began writing down on a blank piece of notepaper, then stretched out the earphones, lowering them around the back of his neck when he finished.

"It was the Gibbous and the Aphelion, Senior Chief. They are closing distance for radar guidance, as with the rest of the fleet. Conditions have deteriorated so much that they can't see where they are going, either."

"At least we aren't alone," Tacimo exhaled, easing into his chair and crossing his legs on the desk. "How far are they? Let them know we are catching up."

Nodding, Vernon put the headset back on over his ears, returning the message to the other vessels nearby. He repeated himself to ensure both ships heard him clearly, before jolting in shock and throwing off the headset abruptly. A faint ringing emanated from either speakers on the device, and later coming through even on the maritime radio.

The noise, near the same pitch as that of chalk forcefully grinding against a board, rung throughout the room. I grimaced, head tucking into my neck and ears pinning. After the screeching came a wailing of three different tones—a distress call, one that Vernon could confirm did not originate from our fleet just by listening to the alternating pitches, albeit with his ears at a safe distance from his headset.

12. Crisis - Part I

In Sea's sudden movement to the button that finally ceased the obnoxiously loud tone's blare, all of us let out individual sighs of relief, while also keeping alert as we each pondered who hailed not just the Eclipse, but all vessels in the general vicinity.

Almost by instinct with all eyes in the room fixing on him, Vernon leaped right back on the headset, twisting knobs on a radio device in front of him to pinpoint a clear channel for the signal. Everypony went silent a second time, letting the unicorn sailor go to work.

As the minutes ticked by, he eventually held the frequency knob in one place, his ears perking as he listened in. Only a couple more moments later did his eyes grow wide, swiveling his chair to face those of us, dropping the headset from his ears around his neck.

"It's a tanker, about fifteen nautical miles due northeast. Sustained a major electrical failure from the storm and is sailing blind. I tried listening in for more, but... it cut out before they finished."

"A tanker?" Tacimo blinked twice. "Was a name given?"

Vernon shook his head. "No, Senior Chief. But, say the damage is severe enough, there are shallow areas scattered around here that they could inadvertently collide with. If they are radar blind from all angles, there's no possible way for them to know which direction they are headed."

"What are you saying, Petty Officer?" the senior chief narrowed in on the unicorn.

Vernon exhaled softly. "I am saying, Senior Chief, if the weather is consistently deteriorating as Lance Corporal Star Shooter is reporting, it is inevitable that we could be looking at a capsizing or sinking."

In all reality, the thought of one's ship capsizing or going under is terrifying in itself. The present atmosphere of it all only added to the fear. Whipping winds, blinding rain, and towering seas that could suck a pony beneath the surface and hold them long enough to where they give up, or they are incapacitated and later drowned from asphyxiation.

A minute of silence followed, until Tacimo turned toward me. "Do you have the ship in sight?"

I blinked with very brief bewilderment, then glancing down at the center monitor, typing quickly to pan out the regional picture as far as it could go. In seconds, multiple blips came within few, with the center sweep being our own radar, moving behind some others in the distant east.

Of all signatures on the screen, one stood out the most, moving significantly slower than the others and placing itself near the ten-o'clock position on the radar—northeast of our current position, around fourteen to fifteen nautical miles, as mentioned by Vernon.

I glanced back up, nodding once. "Affirmative, Senior Chief. Moving very slowly, about four knots, fourteen-point-three-five nautical miles north-northeast. Signal is weak, so it's either cloud interference, or loss of power to their transmitters, which would explain the flickering."

"Keep an eye on it. Until then, maintain current heading and speed, remain in the fleet line until we're out of this storm," the senior officer ordered, sitting once more in his chair.

Between Sea Watch and Vernon, the two exchanged looks. Of the two, it was Sea who spoke up. "Sir, I believe we should stay put for the moment."

Perking his ears, Tacimo glanced over his shoulder, honing in on Sea and blinking twice. "Pardon?"

"Well, as Vernon addressed, Senior Chief, it may very well be a wise decision to remain in the general vicinity of the tanker in the event that they issue a mayday call, so that we may be close enough if they are to abandon ship," he explained, motioning one of his hooves.

Tacimo's brow furrowed, a faint frown pursing his lips. "As inclined as I am to agree, er..." he narrowed in more on Sea. "What is your rank, sailor?"

Sea straightened his back just slightly. "Petty Officer, second class, sir," he proudly responded.

"Right. As inclined as I am to agree, Petty Officer, we have orders to follow, and our orders are to remain in line and keep in contact with the fleet until we come top side of this storm."

Here came that bull-headed attitude Shadow forewarned. Except, now, it was over a possible life or death situation for the ponies on that tanker.

"With all due respect to orders, Senior Chief," I chimed in. "Petty Officer Sea Watch is right. Just in case, we may as well prepare and make a slight course correction so that we can be close enough if it comes to it."

"I must concur with the Lance Corporal," came a voice from behind, swiveling my ear.

All of us turned, immediately standing without a moment's hesitation as Shadow strode through the doorway, right up to Tacimo, but looping around to his seat. "At ease," he addressed.

"Captain," Tacimo nodded once as he remained standing, fixing on the greenish-grey stallion. "How was your leave?" he joked.

"Lovely, actually. Quite nice to see you haven't beached us in the Griffish Isles yet, especially with visibility like this," Shadow responded, setting his steaming mug down just off to the side. "There is no need to brief me, I heard the message myself."

"One other thing, though. I have been informed that we are currently sitting in a category two storm. You heard me, a two. The Storm Center in Baltimare is saying it developed so quickly that it completely jumped past a level one," he exhaled as he explained.

A chill ran up my spine. A small one, nonetheless. "What is it named, sir?"

"Come again?" Shadow glanced over his shoulder, blinking twice.

"The storm, does it have a name?"

"Well," Shadow shifted his seat around. "They have actually left it up to us to decide. Us, as in, the entire fleet. Seems silly, I know, but we are their primary source for their data on the hurricane."

"Aquarius," said Sea, somewhat sternly.

I looked to him, as did Shadow, Vernon, and Tacimo.

"Aquarius is a water-based zodiac, but is also a mythological creature that once wreaked havoc on the world centuries ago with mile-high tsunamis and hurricanes like no other. The name is fitting."

A silence fell upon the room, until Shadow broke it.

"Aquarius it is, then," he swiveled his seat back around. "And he is furious. Tac, call down to the helmspony, ten degrees rudder off the port."

"Aye, skip," Tacimo responded, picking up the phone receiver and dialing for the control quarters below deck. As soon as somepony on the other end answered, he began giving the orders to alter the ship's heading.

Reaching forward, Shadow took the receiver on the radio, switching frequencies for the whole fleet to hear.

"Lunar Fleet, L.R.S. Eclipse, we are changing heading to intercept a possible maritime emergency within our general vicinity. Weather conditions continuing to deteriorate, gale-force wind gusts likely with less than a quarter mile of visibility."

Between Shadow and Tacimo, two separate conversations went on, one lasting longer than the other. As the minutes ticked by, the ship lurched left, beginning to turn in that direction as ordered. Every couple of seconds, I took note of the shift in position on the radar monitor of the distressed vessel, now placing it ten-thirty off the port bow.

Since the heading change, however, the ship's rocking motion also changed. Rather than a forward-backward motion, the carrier rocked side to side as it crossed diagonally across the massive waves. At any rate I would have expected a hundred-foot wave to appear out of the blue and completely overturn the ship, despite its enormous weight that one would believe cannot happen.

A massive jolt struck the starboard bow, exploding with foamy water that swept across the whole of the flight deck, like a tide coming in over a lump on a beach. The few that remained on the deck hurried inside, closing the watertight hatch as the storm surge swamped across the deck. What ever had not been securely tied down was immediately wiped away into the angry seas.

In the wave's impact, most of us grabbed quickly on to anything that would not move—that being our desks. Behind me, smaller objects such as cups and some boxes of napkins slid against the corner at one end of the counter.

The coffee maker slid slowly, only due to the rubber pegs on the bottom creating friction. Although, even though the machine itself posed no threat, the glass pot, still half full of hot coffee, came ajar and fell to the floor with a smash, spilling coffee all along the floor, running quickly like a stream until it washed up against the wall, only to roll back as the ship corrected itself atop the wave, and rock to the other side a lot more gently.

In shock, the five of us threw fearful, shocked looks between one another, surprised by the wave that happened to turn the ship back to its original heading, as told by a simple glance at my screens. Evidently, it seemed Aquarius had other plans for us.

"For as long as I have been the commanding officer of this ship, not once in my life have I been in seas this nasty," Shadow stated, shifting in his seat. "Everypony all right?"

"We are. Can't say the same about the coffee pot," I said with a frown, looking behind me at the puddle of coffee and glass that drenched half the floor.

Sighing, Shadow looked forward, out the windshield. "I'll call somepony up to clean later. For now, everypony be weary of the glass, step or jump over the puddle if you need to."

Returning to my monitors, I checked over each of them for any errors that may have been caused, or if the system was in need of a proper reboot. One anomaly above all stood out the most—the ship's blip had vanished. "Captain, I've got no signature on radar of the hailing tanker."

"Try and pan your screen out, maybe you zoomed the screen in by accident when that wave hit us," he replied.

Glancing down, I reached a hoof to the minus-symbol on the keyboard, tapping it intermittently, panning the radar scan out as far as it would allow. The only other blips visible still were those of the other ships in the fleet, keeping a tight line in front of and behind us.

"No signature visible, Captain," I repeated, looking back up over the tops of the monitors.

"Did you pan out?"

"Yes, sir," I nodded. "Nothing, not a trace."

"Captain!" Vernon called out, a hoof on the outside of one of his headset speakers. "It's them. Another distress call has been sent out. I'll play it," he said, pressing a switch on the transponder, playing through for all to hear.

Initially, the message began with faint static, and muffled rumbles of thunder, as well as what sounded to be chaotic chatter in the background.

"This... this is the P.T.S. Alder, mayday, mayday, mayday. We have lost all forms of power, using backup generators to patch through to any ships in the area. To anypony who can hear my voice, we are in desperate need of help. Storm surge is swamping the deck, we have no engines, and manual controls are completely unresponsive. Say again, we are in need of help."

"P.T.S..." Shadow muttered, momentarily pondering the initials. "Prench Trading Ship, or tanker, either one. They were likely sailing to Manehattan or Alderneigh when they got caught up in the storm, too."

Flicking a little switch to turn off the speakers, Vernon fixed his eyes on the earth pony captain. "What do we do, sir? We can't not come to their aid."

Tacimo stood up, taking a few steps closer to Shadow. "Now, hang on. If they have backup generators running, surely they have enough juice to work with long enough until they can get their turbines going again."

"I imagine, in this weather, such a task is easier said than done, Senior Chief," Sea added.

"Captain, what are your thoughts?" Vernon asked, gently gripping the edge of the desk as the ship bobbed hard a second time to prevent from falling backwards. "He said their deck is taking on water. They cannot keep it from flooding the lower decks for long, sir, and without power, their pumps are rendered useless, too."

"Generator power is partitioned off to pumps in the event of a hull breach, Petty Officer," Tacimo sternly said.

"Not in all cases. Mind you, sir, this is a Prench ship we are discussing here. We do not know what kind, or how old this one even is. They need our help."

"If we have fared this well in hurricane—excuse me—category two hurricane conditions, and have also suffered a loss of power, they can, as well. We will continue our current heading until we are out of this literal shitstorm."

"If the Alder is forced to abandon ship, Captain, in this weather, chances of survival in a crisis are dwindling as it is. There will be no use for lifeboats whatsoever, it is too dangerous."

"Shadow, we are not the Coast Guard. We don't perform rescue operations for them."

Vernon turned to the senior officer, scowling. "You are comfortable with the idea of abandoning helpless ponies in the middle of gale-force winds, Senior Chief? Who in their right mind even considered giving you such a rank?!"

"You watch your tone, son, I do not appreciate it," Tacimo responded, returning the glare and pointing the pen in his hoof at the unicorn.

"I refuse to let this slip by like it is nothing—"

"Quiet! Both of you!" bellowed Shadow, silencing the two instantly. A look of daggers from the captain danced between either sailors. "Vernon, keep your tone down on my bridge."

Tacimo gave a sly smirk at the unicorn, who returned with a sharp glare. Evidently, Shadow just happened to notice the glance, turning to the senior officer.

"Tacimo, you do not give orders while I am present. Is that clear?" Shadow added, retaining his roughened tone, immediately and entirely wiping the senior officer's grin away.

Grimacing, Tacimo nodded once. "Yes, Captain."

"Excellent," Shadow returned the nod. "Everypony, back to their stations. Except for you, Star."

Just as I had turned around, I froze, glancing across my shoulder. "Sir?"

Shadow sauntered over, I shifted to face him. His stoic posture remained unwavered, even now. "I need for you to fly out to that ship. By now, the night shift should be coming in, and he will take your place for the time being, like normal."

"Due to present conditions, however, some compromises will have to be made. You will not have immediate helo extract. The moment the last of you drop in is when it will return. We will try to close the gap as best as we can, just in case."

I blinked twice, eyes widened. "Y-you want me to go to the Alder, Captain?" I gestured a hoof over my chest.

Shadow gave a single nod. "Seeing as you are most qualified for the mission, as is your platoon mate on the ship, we will assemble a team for you two. I won't give the details without them in the room, so, head below deck, find Lance Corporal Nightpath, and perhaps Corporal Ashfall if you run across him."

I nodded once in understanding. "Yes, Captain. Will do. Where do we meet?"

"Hangar bay, where the chopper will be waiting. You will see us when you walk in. Get to it, Marine."

I nodded a second time, briefly throwing up a salute, then trotting out of the bridge and down the stairs to find Nightpath.

***

Without a question asked, we made our way up one level to the hangar, the extensive floor between the ship's living quarters and every other room, and the flight deck, in the center of the ship with room to spare around it

Neither of us have previously been through this section of the carrier, not that we have had any reason to prior to now. Although it still turned out to be exactly as the two of us expected, both myself and Nightpath were met with shock and awe at the sheer size of the bay that, from our standpoint, seemed to go on forever, from bow to stern.

It filled mostly with closely-parked jets, the outer halves of their wings folded upwards for easier storage, far more than I knew were capable of fitting in this room, especially with how many already sat on the flight deck on a normal day.

Now, most of those aircraft had been moved down here, as evident by various puddles sitting beneath a few of them with water still dripping off the wingtips and fuselages. The majority of them parked near the elevator to the flight deck. Even now, one last jet rolled off into the hangar, its wings just raising as a small tug vehicle steadily pulled it to an empty space against another rain-drenched fighter.

As a pair of walking mechanics passed, I spotted Shadow standing near the tail rotor of a grey-painted UH-60, the word 'NAVY' in bold black on the side of it. He glanced in our direction, waving in a gesture for us to come over, which we did, him walking with us around the chopper to a small table, where Anchorage, Ashfall, Silver, and another Marine stood.

"Well, then, now that everypony is here, let's get to work," he began, stopping at one side of the table, the four of us surrounding it on the opposite end. Shadow glanced to me and Night. "The two of you will accompany Corporal Ashfall, Lance Corporal Silver Edge, and Sergeant Sunset Haze. The sergeant will be in command, so follow his orders closely, and do not skip a beat."

"As myself and Star are already very much aware of, a tanker by the name of the Prench Trading Ship Alder has run into electrical trouble, likely with this weather to blame. Without their engines, they are practically a three-hundred thousand-ton raft at the storm's will."

Shadow moved his gaze over to the only other sailor among us. "Petty Officer Anchorage shall accompany you to install the transmitter and try to restore power to the Alder. Above every pony on this ship, he knows best with technology. But, help him with anything he may ask you to do."

He examined each of us slowly, thoroughly. "Mind you, they are not aware that you are coming, so you must be weary if they so attempt to defend their ship, which they very well might. Engage only if you are engaged. Keep your weapons hot, but by all means necessary, show you mean no harm to them. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Captain," we each responded in unison.

"Excellent," Shadow nodded once. "You will be roping down from the helo, as well. The pilots will try to angle you out of the wind as best as they can, perhaps in front of the bridge or another obstruction where the gusts will not be as intense. If everything goes to plan, it should be a piece of cake from here on out. Any questions?"

Author's Note

I've decided to retitle this chapter as part one rather than two, seeing as the last chapter had very little to do with this mini-climax.

13. Crisis - Part II

As soon as the briefing finished, the six of us loaded into the helicopter, sliding the door shut and twisting the lock from the inside. The pilots in the cockpit seated themselves, flicking switches and pressing buttons to start up the electronics, all while a small tug hitched itself to the rear of the aircraft, pulling it along to the rain-and-sea drenched elevator where waves crashed continuously up against the ship's hull.

Two vertical buckle straps looped over my chest and shoulders, with a third crossing around my lower stomach that I clicked together manually after having slipped both hooves through the straps.

The others had followed suit, or already fastened themselves to the seat row backed against another in the center of the chopper with only a grid-patterned net separating the sides. On my side, where we had climbed in, I sat to the left of both Ashfall and Silver, with Silver in between, notably anxious and was very gently trembling, even after he'd fastened his belt.

"You going to be okay, Sil?" I glanced over, concerned for his sake.

The beige unicorn let out a shaky, deep breath, straightening his back in an attempt to cease the tremors. "Better to get this over with sooner than later, y'know?" He chuckled nervously.

"Just keep a death grip until your hooves hit the deck, don't worry about anything unless you start falling into the water. These pilots know what they're doing, they won't let that happen," said the sergeant, back to Silver's on the opposite side.

"Yes, Sarge," Silver exhaled again, forcing a lump down his throat.

The very instance as the chopper rolled out of the hangar, rain and wind battered the outer skin, creating a rather terrifying roar against the fuselage with the metal plating seemingly enhancing the noise to where shouting at the top of our lungs would be the only means of hearing one another.

A slight jolt shook the craft, and with a simple glance out the window, the light of the hangar gradually disappeared as the elevator raised the blackhawk up to the flight deck, where only a few crew members stood around. With a constant stream of rain running down the windows, it truly is a wonder how the pilots will be able to navigate the storm.

Even though the last known position of the Alder had been programmed into the flight navigation system, the chances of us reaching the ship—or finding it at all, knowing it may have since drifted elsewhere in the time since the distress call—were mediocre. If that were the case, we would have but no other viable option than to fly back and hope for the best.

With the aid of a second tug, just narrowly able to move against the winds, we moved off the elevator and into nearly the center of the flight deck. As soon as the vehicle had been unhitched by a deck worker, through fast-moving windshield wipers on the helicopter, a second operator signaled to the pilots, where they then started the rotors.

The high-pitched whine of the engines kicking to life hardly overcame the severity of the storm, soon followed by the whir of the rotors slicing through the air, only muffled by light insulation in the cabin between the plates and the visible skeleton. If it hadn't yet become a horrible fear of riding in this for Celestia knows how long, in a hurricane, and jump out of it later, it did now.

One other thing, as ordered by the sergeant, was to switch on the comms headsets on the outside of our helmets, protected by a moisture-wicking material to protect from damage and avoid frying our ears. The headset itself made up of a single speaker that fit into the crease of my ear comfortably, with a petite boom microphone that extended not but a hair past my muzzle, curving around just before my mouth.

A small button beneath the receiver allowed for an uncomplicated way of switching channels frequencies. The primary communications channel, as to be used by the six of us, warranted the control center on the Eclipse to listen in on our conversations as backup in the likely event that the operation may take a turn for the worse. As one precaution, with us we carried guns, albeit on safety—just in case.

The wheels steadily eased into the air, along with it, a very shaky beginning. Silver, out of reflex as the helicopter lurched left, gripped the net behind him, hoof over his head. His eyes shot wide open, respirating nearly out of his chest in fear as the aircraft fought back against the strong winds.

Thankfully, it seemed we had taken off at the right time, where the weaker squalls of Aquarius passed overhead and the gusts quelled enough to not force an unwanted ditching in the still-raging sea below the more distance was put between the Eclipse and us.

Inside the cabin, the only visible light were those of the controls in the cockpit, and the constant red flash of a beacon on the outside of the chopper. Even now, the lightning appeared to have ceased for the most part, shadowed by the fog of rainfall all around.

I checked over my weapon one last time before we would eventually reach the Alder, inspecting the chamber and barrel from the side without directly aiming at myself, minding the switch remained on safety as ordered.

The rifle itself had two extra attachments: a scope, and an extra grip handle in front of the magazine. The scope was equipped with an accuracy laser, and had multiple modes that could be switched to—including night vision, something that I assume will come in handy.

Looking over my shoulder, I noticed Anchorage with the transmitter placed on the edge of the seat between his legs, honed in on the device as he tinkered with the insides through a little opened door on top that his hoof just hardly fit through. Sunset Haze also watched, scrutinizing the device with the both of us putting trust in Anchorage that he won't make a single error while he made last-minute fixes.

"Ten minutes," addressed one of the pilots through comms, which the six of us heard clearly. "Storm's finally givin' us some leeway."

***

As soon as the doors on either side of the helicopter threw open, sliding against the side toward the rear, we were met with cold, pelting rain that blew through the now-opened space in which it forced the pilots to compensate for the added wind friction. Or was it less friction now that there was less surface of the chopper to stream around?

The sudden blast was intense enough to take one's breath away, as it did in my case, leaving me briefly gasping for air as if an airlock had blown out in space and the suction took all of the oxygen with it. Without the need of masks at this altitude, as we were not parachuting out, that would come to be an occasional problem on our way down.

A pair of thick ropes, one end secured to hooks from the cabin ceiling dropped from the side to just above the deck of the darkened vessel below where the blackhawk hovered. They blew almost directly sideways, in the direction of the wind, already making the effort more difficult than we had previously hoped.

However, as assured by the pilots, and even Sergeant Sunset, they would straighten out as we fast-rope down, as our overall weight in relative to the heavy gusts would cancel out somewhat, but we would still have to swing ourselves if necessary. The first two to rope down would secure the bottom ends to the ship itself, then release when all of us were down.

Just as I had predicted, too, Ashfall went first, along with Anchorage on the other side, carrying the transmitter in a sealed backpack the size of the device itself, where the two safely came down hind hooves-first on the waterlogged steel, only shielded by crashing waves through three large, rounded storage compartments where liquid contents—likely oil—were stored.

Next up would be Nightpath and Silver Edge. Like the sergeant, I remained last to ensure Silver reaches the bottom without an issue, doing so by securing a carabiner clip to a hook on his vest and patting it roughly twice, glancing up to fix on his gaze.

"Grab the rope on your way down to slow your fall. It'll be slippery, so hang on tight, alright?" I shouted above the engines, and the storm's and the sea's enormous roar all around.

Shakily and hesitantly, his gaze darting between my own and where the rope hung from behind clear helmet goggles, Silver responded with two nods, reaching up to take the rope with both hooves and finally jumping from the side, grasping it tightly on his way down, significantly slower than Ash and Anchorage had, with Nightpath already on the bottom.

Like I had done with Silver, I took the last carabiner and attached myself to it, tugging to make sure it had locked properly, and grasping the rope above my head, peeking over the edge of the chopper down at the deck where the four waited.

"After you, Lance Corporal!" the sergeant shouted, having already attached himself, preparing to drop when I did.

Looking back forward, I reached up my other hoof, practically hugging the rope while keeping my face strictly away to prevent a burn, only gently leaping from the side and falling toward the deck. Moments after my hooves hit the drenched deck, Sergeant Sunset landed rather roughly, rolling down along the floor and upright, where he immediately worked to unhook himself, as did I.

The adrenaline really pumped now. Not only had we just fast-roped simultaneously from a blackhawk suspended above a pitch-black ship in the middle of the night, but did just that whilst in an enormous cyclone against battering rain showers, and winds upwards of fifty knots—or quite nearly sixty miles per hour.

Granted all of us made the fifty-or-higher foot drop and escaped any injury, needless to say, I did not look forward to doing such again in the near future, or even beyond that, regardless of conditions.

With the additional downdraft produced by the chopper's rotors diminishing as it raised ropes and flew off back toward the closing-distance Eclipse, the sergeant raised his rifle across his chest and turned to us. "Marines, on me," he ordered, met with a funny look from Anchorage. "—and sailor."

***

In through a cabin hatch and into the shadowed corridors, bringing us down a short flight of stairs, we formed a tight group as we ventured inside. All but a few emergency lights in the halls remained without power. For how chaotic it sounded in the background of the distress call, now the place seemed like a ghost town, or a ghost ship in this case.

Sunset Haze led the pack, while Nightpath tailed it, keeping watch over our sixes with night vision's aid on his own rifle. Since landing on the ship, too, Silver calmed himself significantly, much to all of our satisfaction—Sunset's the most. Although we'd only just met, he seemed like the stallion to be set off by the slightest of mishaps on Silver's part.

All of that aside, our current task briefly shifted. We needed to find the Alder's crew as soon as possible, both for their sake and our own. Without engines or proper rudder control, I could feel the movement of the tanker on the furious seas as it rocked back and forth, bobbing over waves every few seconds.

It still struck me as odd that the ship hadn't moved much since its last known position on radar, though. That part made little sense, if any at all.

"Stairwell to the bridge should be just up ahead and to our left," Anchorage quietly said, though loud and clear in our earpieces.

From this point on, the sergeant allowed Anchorage to take the lead. Quite an unusual gesture, one that is surely beyond typical mission regulations. Then again, it may have been because Anchorage knew the layout of this ship from hull to antenna. He was weird like that.

He eventually allowed Sunset to take the lead once we reached our turn, where he held up a hoof in signal for the rest of us to halt, as we did, leaning up against the wall. He peeked carefully around the corner, later drawing out his gun, scanning around, before muttering, "Clear."

The sergeant continued cautiously into the corridor, keeping his weapon drawn most of the time while we followed him, and Night did just the same behind us. Yet still, the only noise to be heard was an echoing roar of the storm, even from near the center of the ship.

From his right, a figure lurched out, grabbing him suddenly and pressing the barrel of a pistol against his temple, shouting in what I made out to be a Griffish accent. "Don't move!"

Myself including the others jumped with surprise, raising our guns to aim at him, although he held Sergeant Sunset in front of him as a body shield, a hoof around his neck but not squeezing, rather holding him in place and having tossed his weapon off to the side. Only moments later did many other ponies appear, armed to the teeth, focusing on us instead and creating an uneasy standoff.

"Who the hell are you?" another pony asked, standing ahead of the pack. Judging by the clothes they wore, they were sailors, too, albeit non-military ones.

Standing nearly statue-still, Sunset spoke up in response, "Lunar Marines. We've come to help, we want no trouble."

The gaze of the stallion holding him shifted. "How can we be for certain that you aren't here to kill us all and steal our petrol?"

"Tell me, then, you seem too much alike the kind of pony to speak before he thinks. If we are Equestrian-based ponies, what sense does it make to storm a non-threatening trading ship headed to our own shores? I've got all day," Ashfall remarked sarcastically.

"Listen, do you want this transmitter or not?" Anchorage strode forward, holding the device in one hoof after having plucked it out of his backpack. "This will restore your beacon on radar, so our ships can keep close watch over you until we are out of this hurricane."

"Well, sir, in case it ain't already clear to you, we've got no power. No power means no engines."

"Actually, no engines means no power. But, by all means, continue to tell me just how much you know about your own ship," Anchorage retorted, his tone hardened with sarcasm in the second sentence and brought a brief, faint grin out of Ash.

"Do you think this is a joke?! I will not hesitate to pull this trigger—"

"That's enough, let him go," addressed a deeper voice from behind, grabbing every pony's attention.

Weapons on their side lowered, and that one pony shoved Sunset away a couple feet. He took a few steps over to his gun and picked it back up, returning to us as the crew made room for a grizzled, bearded stallion. "Now, might somepony here explain just what all of this fuss is about?"

The sergeant gave a single, respectful head bow, coming closer steadily with his gun hanging around his neck. "I may, Captain. I apologize on behalf of myself and my unit, our entrance was quite unannounced. Though, sir, I can assure you that we have only come to your aid."

Head bobbing in a firm nod, the Alder's captain let out a deep, relieved sigh. "Thank the heavens. I was for certain no one would hear our distress call. I am afraid that without our engines running, we have had no means of controlling the ship whatsoever. Thank you for coming."

"Our pleasure, Captain," the sergeant replied, nodding once in return.

"Allow me to show you to the bridge, Sergeant, where you can set up your transmitter. I shall ensure not one of my crew will stand in the way of your work from here on out," said the captain, who tossed a glare of daggers at those behind him, then motioning his head. "Come along."

***

Sliding a messy pile of paper out of the way, Anchorage placed the transmitter carefully on a desk in the center of the bridge, and began pressing button after button, ending with a twist of a knob that switched the device on.

"All right, there we go. Shouldn't take too long to get the signal going, then we will be set. It won't last long on batteries, though, maybe an hour or so. 'Til then, jumpstarting the turbines should be our top priority for the time being."

Snorting, one of the crew members tossed a look in his direction. "This ship is too old, she probably gave her last huff and quit. Bitch loves to screw us over from time to time, leave us stranded. This ain't anythin' new."

"If that is one hundred-percent the case, how, exactly, do you get her going again?" Anchorage irritably asked, returning a miffed glance.

"Well," the stallion paused momentarily. "She usually just sorta... comes back on her own."

"How long does that usually take?"

"'Bout a half hour."

"Aaaaand, how long has it been now?"

The stallion rolled up one of his sleeves, checking his watch. "Couple hours."

"So, the storm has knocked something ajar, maybe a few wires, or there is a worse problem on our hooves," Anchorage said as he continued to tinker with the signal transmitter. "What ever it may be, I am certain that there is a fix, and I will find it. That's why I brought my tools," he gestured toward a small blue toolbox on the floor beside his legs.

"Thank you once more for coming out here, soldiers," the captain said, observing the pegasus' work. "We cannot be more grateful."

"Again, Captain, it is our duty to protect and serve, and help those wherever needed," Sunset nodded. "And, we are Marines."

Once more, Anchorage glanced an eye back without turning his head. "And a sailor," he added.

"My apologies. I have not before seen such uniforms alike each other. That is what I find most bewildering about Equestria's armed forces. While your uniforms surely state which branch you may be a part of, from afar, one cannot tell two apart."

"That's understandable," Ash nodded. "Marines used to be tan a few years ago, before Princess Luna came back."

"And the Navy used to be without camouflage," Anchorage added further. "He's right, it can be confusing."

"My son-in-law once served in the Griffish Royal Air Force," the ship captain began. "Decades ago, the military once shared their attire, unified under the former United Griffish Isles Armed Forces, which have since parted ways, and individual forces received their official titles."

"Like how Equestria's original primary defense was the Royal Guard, which later became more of a law enforcement chain around your capital of Canterlot, the military has evolved as quickly as technological advancements in weaponry did. Although, there is a diversion point between the two," the captain explained, scratching his beard afterward.

"Well, under the Lunar Navy and Marines, we share darker shades, as designated by her royal highness, to share something in common with her Guard branch," I said.

"Hmm," the captain pondered. "Why the differences between Celestia's Guard and her military, then?"

"Because they are not related. Celestia's Guard and the Equestrian Army and Air Force do not associate with one another. While Luna holds power over our branches, Celestia shares with Luna, and vice versa," I explained.

"This is done so the sisters have equal power, and since Princess Twilight rose as a third power in Equestria, we may take orders from her, as well, but only with their approval among other more important reasons."

Once more, the captain scratched his chin, pondering. "I suppose this puts the rest of the pieces in place."

"Aha, there we go!" Anchorage said, sliding the transmitter to the top of the desk for a better position. "Signal's live, should be visible to other nearby ships now."

Through comms, a sailor from the Eclipse patched through. "Copy that, radar contact restored. Good work."

Picking up his toolbox, Anchorage opened it, placing a screwdriver inside. "As I said before, the batteries will not last longer than an hour. We have this window to figure out what's wrong with the engines."

"Allow me, I will show you the way to the engine room," the captain began heading for the doorway.

Stepping in front of him, Sunset shook his head. "I will need for you to remain on the bridge, sir. You, and your crew mates. Lance Corporal Nightpath will stay by your side, just in case."

Furrowing an eyebrow, the bearded stallion cocked his head. "I am confused, Sergeant?"

Taking a spare walkie-talkie out of a belt holster, Sunset twisted a knob on the side twice, where faint crackling came through the speaker. "We will stay in contact through this. Keep it on you at all times, no matter where you go, give us updates on what to look for and if anything happens."

The captain examined the hoofheld radio for a moment, then took it and nodded. "Will do. I presume you already know where to go?"

Off to his right, a grin cracked on Anchorage's muzzle, followed by a firm nod. "Ships are my lifelong passion, Captain. There ain't a ship on any sea that I do not know the interior layout to."

The stallion returned a nod. "I trust your judgement. Be safe, all of you, and be hasty."

***

All of us—minus Nightpath, of course, who remained on the bridge with the captain and some of the crew—made our way out of the bridge control room and down multiple flights of steep staircases, deeper into the pitch-black ship with only enhancements on our guns, our wits, and Anchorage directing us.

Without the threat of being ambushed by frightened crew workers, that ticked one concern off the list while we continued to sneak around, and left some assurance that we would not have to waste magazines on noncomplying ponies.

While I walked ahead, as told by the sergeant prior, suddenly, my hoof stepped down into a warm fluid, almost too thick to be water. It sent a shock throughout my body, and I let out a surprised shriek. "Gah!"

I leaped into the air with a single flap of my wings, only for them to immediately snap to my sides, with me landing on my rear rather harshly and falling flat on my back a moment later, forcing a pained grunt out. My teeth clenched, as did my eyelids, while I remained on the floor for a few seconds longer until I rolled over and pressed myself back up.

"What was that?" Ash blinked, standing a few feet behind with Silver, Anchorage, and Sergeant Sunset, whom all had their collective gazes fixed on me.

Would I not be delighted to know myself? Shrugging off the jump scare, I ripped open a pouch flap on my vest and brought out a flashlight, turning it on with a click. What now sat before my very gaze struck me like an oncoming train with a more-terrified type of shock.

Eyes growing wide, Silver began taking steps back, before falling back on his rump and breathing heavily. Ash, Anchorage, and Sunset all stared in horror. Neither of us seemed to be able to remove our eyes from the traumatic sight.

Pools of red fluid dotted the floor in an uneven line leading down to the end of the hall, with smaller drips along the side. Most of the puddles had streaks trailing and gradually fading the further they went. Above all, the closer I came to one of the collections of blood, the most notable marking left behind were those of paw prints and some claws.

Speaking into the comms channel to report the finding, the sergeant stuttered a bit. Even he was almost too shocked. "Captain, we—we've got... blood. Pools of blood. Hall 2E, lower level."

The conclusion came long sooner than my ability to even speak as I wrenched a blocking mass down my throat, where my voice ultimately returned. "Griffons..." I grunted quietly, wiping off my hoof across the floor, only leaving streaks in its wake.

"P-pirates?!" Silver shuddered out, gripping the gun in both hooves steadier than prior as he rose from the floor.

What made even less sense about that statement is just how would unsophisticated Griffonian pirates be able to board a ship—much less one that cannot be easily visually spotted—in these seas? More so, their entrance strictly would not have gone unnoticed by even a crew member. This was something else.

"Where are the bodies, then?" Ash questioned, one of his ears pinning slightly, walking up to my side, his hooves inches from the edge of another slough in a near-perfect circular shape, aside from the visible streaks left behind. "They look like they were dragged away, or something."

"That's what I would like to know, too," I responded, raising the flashlight's beam to project it across the collection of red puddles among the random prints scattered about.

Straightening his posture, Sergeant Sunset flicked the safety knob on his rifle. "Let's keep moving, but turn your safeties off. Stay frosty."

Doing as ordered, now without our triggers locked and the uneasy feeling that we were suddenly not alone, we carefully continued around the bloody mess. Even in the highly-unlikely event that this is some type of prank on behalf of the crew, man, was it a shitty one.

***

As it turned out, the Alder, for some strange reason, had two separate engine rooms—one on either side of the vessel—and forcing us to split up, much to all of our dismay. Anchorage and Silver accompanied the sergeant, while myself and Ashfall went to the port side room, navigating the pitch-black halls.

The overall atmosphere around was enough to send chills up a pony's spine, as it did with me more than once in a span of just a few minutes. Had I not been decked out with gear, my coat would be standing straight up, like a cat who's seen a ghost on Nightmare Night.

Ash came to a halt at a corner, where in that hall, faint light shone into it emanating from the place we wanted to be. Evidently the generators kept the room just bright enough to work in, as noted while we hurried inside.

I raised a hoof up to the side of my earpiece, speaking into the little microphone stick. "All right, we're here. What do you need us to do?"

"One second," Anchorage responded through both of our headsets, either just reaching the engine room on their side of the ship, or nearly there. "Okay, what's everything look like?"

I glanced around briefly, examining primarily the massive pistons that stuck through the wall and out to the ship's propellers, and Ashfall responded. "What do you think it looks like? A damn engine room!"

"Don't be a smart ass. What do you see?"

"Pistons, pipes, some compressors it looks like," I replied, moving down the side of the massive horizontal steel pole, ducking beneath it to slip to the other side. "Another generator, too."

"Yeah, that is not for emergencies though. That's the main power system. Do you see any lights on it?"

"Yes, but... they're off," I said, walking up to it, scanning over the front face of the generator-like object, then to a lock on the latch to get inside. "We need a key to open it."

"You should have one, it's called your gun," Sergeant Sunset chimed in.

"No, don't shoot it! You could unintentionally damage it. We'll find another way. Uh, give me one minute."

"Well, damn it, hurry it up," I grumbled, not through the comms channel, turning and looking back along the wall opposite of the pistons, before freezing. Ashfall had already done the exact same, and we both stood perfectly still as if we were both statues.

"Uh, Anchorage?" Ash called through open mic, neglecting to realize the Eclipse could hear us, too.

"What is it, Ash?" he snarkily returned.

"W-we've got... charges... in the engine room. They're everywhere."

A silence followed, but was brief.

"Charges? How many?" Sunset hurriedly responded.

"At least ten, maybe more," I called in from further across the room, near the corner, closely examining two of the small black-cased explosives placed carefully along hull beams with multiple wires connecting between them, the lights silently blinking red every couple of seconds. "They're hot, too."

14. Crisis - Part III

"Anchor, check your side. There might be more over there that are out of view. Check everywhere," Ash said through comms, eyeballing each of the explosives individually.

A silence followed on their end as we both assumed him and the others began searching their corridor for bombs. It was not for a few minutes before somepony responded.

"Clear on our side," Sergeant Sunset declared.

"Good. We might need you three back over here. We need to disarm these things before they go off," I said, standing a short distance from the wall.

"What is going on over there, Hummingbird? Are you in need of backup?" called the sailor back on the Eclipse, who we only just came to the realization that he had been listening as well.

"Stand by, Eclipse," Sunset responded in his brisk reply, the breathing in his speech evident that he was running.

In less than a minute, him, Anchorage, and Silver rushed into our room. Out of them, Silver appeared most terrified and overwhelmed at the sight. Beside him, a more cool and collected sergeant, who tore into his field pack that now sat on the floor and yanked out a small box. In it were compact tools, such as a miniature screwdriver, a pair of pliers, among other little utensils.

Returning back to the explosives, Sunset moved his gaze carefully over each one, honing in on their appearance and muttering. "Now, which one is the primary..."

"The p-primary?" Silver shuddered, backing behind me.

"Bombs like these, the ones that are wired together, they rely on one explosive that, when it is triggered, they are set off a second or two after the first. Disabling that deactivates the rest, but they can be tricky," Sunset explained, standing on his hinds in order to reach one.

"Wired-explosive primaries can be placed wherever, whether that be in the middle, left, right, or anywhere in between. The whole point of them is to throw EODs off and cut the wrong wires," Ashfall commented, heading to the other end of the trail for a closer look.

"Precisely. I will need to open up all of these, get a good look at them. One little misplacement and we all go up in flames," Sunset remarked, reaching up his little screwdriver and twisting slowly, carefully removing two tiny screws holding the plastic cover over its hazardous contents.

"Wouldn't it be a better idea to cut them off the beams and throw them overboard or something?" I questioned, watching the sergeant move over to the second explosive and begin removing the cover.

"Negative, these are remotely triggered, meaning somepony else can discharge them at their will using a separate device," he answered.

"If they can be detonated at the touch of a button by someone else, why haven't they already?" Anchorage posed, running a hoof across his chin with question.

"Whoever is responsible must have a valid reason not to just yet," Sunset said, removing the third device's cover and stopping there, scanning over the inside. "I think I've found it!"

"Sergeant, are you trained in bomb disposal?" Ash blinked, striding back over to him.

"To an extent," he frankly replied. That was reassuring. He set the screwdriver in his box on the grate-plated floor, replacing it with the pliers, bringing them up to the collection of wires looped around one another, like a strand of DNA.

Stopping just a hair from the wires, the sergeant inhaled sharply. "If this doesn't kill us, I'll treat you all when we're back home," he stated aloud, the famous last words spoken a mere two seconds before he squeezed the pliers and severed the green wire.

A cold shock ran through my entire body the very instant the wire had been cut. Not one of us didn't let out some sort of relieved breath and eased our muscles as the red lights on each of the explosive devices ceased to flash altogether, and for the sole fact that we were all still here.

Speaking into comms, Sergeant Sunset calmly announced through a sigh, "This is Hummingbird, bombs disarmed."

Letting off a groan, Silver removed his helmet and wiped a hoof over his forehead to clear it of nervous sweat, his body trembling from top to bottom. I couldn't help but to empathize with him. As bad as we'd previously thought the situation to be, it very well almost was far, far worse.

"All right," said the sergeant, bringing out his knife and unfolding the black stainless-steel blade, lifting it to the primary explosive. "Now we can..." pausing while he put pressure on the knife, "...get these down," he finished with a mild grunt in his tone, slicing the glue sticking the device against the wall.

As if by knowing he would order them to do so, Ash and Anchorage followed suit, aiding the sergeant in taking down the array of bombs and bunching them together carefully, ensuring to cut each of the wires connecting each other.

Now with room in his little backpack used to carry the signal transmitter, Anchorage proceeded to stuff the collection with caution into it, sealing the leather flap tightly and once more throwing it over his shoulders.

Getting back to work restoring the ship's power could not have been the first thing on anypony else's mind for the moment at the very least. My head sat divided between the two thoughts, one contemplating just how we were supposed to pull it off, while the other kept on the many questions, who planted the explosives? What were they waiting for, and what were they trying to accomplish?

Without a doubt did it tie in to the puddles of blood in the corridor earlier. That still did not provide any sort of inkling of who did it, other than the fact that griffons of unknown origin were most certainly the masterminds of the plan, what ever that plan may be.

Just before anypony else could even open their maws to speak, the clinks of bullets striking against metal forced instinct into action. Like the others, we each hit the deck, ducking down with some of us placing hooves on our helmets as holes riddled the walls with bullets flying in our direction, zipping past our ears and striking the pistons, walls, even where the bombs previously were.

"Contact, hallway!" Sergeant Sunset shouted, aiming his rifle out as he lay flat across the floor. He began blindly returning fire with minor bursts every other second, being the only one in any proper position to aim out through the open bulkhead hatch.

"Who the hell's shooting at us?!" Anchorage cried, diving behind a generator for extra cover. Strangely enough, out of the six of us—five excluding Nightpath, who remained on the bridge—he ended up being the one pony who came unarmed.

I suppose it was our duty to protect him at all costs. After all, he carried the beacon device with him.

"I can't see shit!" the sergeant responded, rolling sideways and out of the line of a trail of bullets as they struck the metal grate where he previously laid. "They've got us pinned!"

Rushing beside Anchorage, I began frantically looking around. To my left I noticed the outline of a closed door, and within a moment's notice, I was up on all fours, making the short run for it and diving into narrow cover beside an electric panel.

Placing my gun down against the corner, I took quick hold of the lock lever and lifted it up until it pointed straight-vertical and pushed inward, leading into another room. Turning back, I called. "In here!" waving a hoof rapidly.

Almost as soon as I had given the word, three Marines and one sailor zipped past, their heads low as they crossed into the other room with me entering last, ensuring to close the hatch and lock it from the inside.

The narrow room full of mostly pipes glowed beneath an emergency light, painting the hot and sticky space entirely with a shade of red comparable to my own eye color.

"Where the hell do we go now?!" Silver said in panic, both in question and statement, darting his head all over the place.

"This way!" Ash shouted, shoving through a partially jarred-open door into a larger room, around a corner, and out into another darkened hall where a thin, hissing steam plume shot diagonally downward from a pipe on the ceiling.

We rushed through the steam, ducking once more as bullets riddled the wall to our right while shooting directly through the opposite wall until we reached a catwalk in an spacey room.

The curve of the floor on the level beneath the pony-width bridge definitely confirmed us to be in the far bottom of the hull. Hell, above the metallic clinking behind us, the eerie rumble of the water on either sides and below us on the outside of the ship was the more dominating ambience.

At a fork in the center of the catwalk, Sunset stopped, snapping in either direction. Behind him, Ash shouted, "What are we doing?!"

My ear swiveled, catching on to muffled shouts from another corridor leading to this one, among faint scratching of talons and thumps of what sounded like paws almost galloping, coming up from behind.

"Go, go!" commanded the sergeant, charging forward again with the rest of us tailing perhaps a foot behind each other and hurrying into a stairwell just as more suppressed bullets flew.

To the level above we ran, not once stopping once we entered the hall and hurried to the next flight of stairs. Why, oh why, whoever designed this blasted ship, decided it was a cool idea to individually separate the stairs and place them randomly around the ship?!

"Night, Night! Are you there?!" Anchorage called, his voice echoing in comms through a one-second delay.

"What's up?" Night responded.

"We have enemies on the lower deck, we're making our way up t—"

Just before he could finish, an enormous jolt knocked the five of us to the floor. A booming thud shook the hall simultaneously, with a second jolt causing the entire ship to tilt a few degrees off the port side. The sudden force threw us against the wall, sliding across the floor from initially collapsing in the first impact.

We jumped right back on all fours, picking up our guns or anything of ours that may have fallen from our vests. The first thing I realized when standing up was that the ship had angled itself sideways and rocked incrementally side to side. What used to be a level floor now turned into an incline, making it difficult to remain still on without slipping.

"Nightpath, talk to me, what the hell just happened?!" Sunset radioed in. The channel was immediately filled with faint static, among quiet groans in the background.

"I don't know, Sergeant, we've struck something!" he responded, panting.

"What could we have hit out here? Driftwood?" Ash said in more of a confused statement than a question.

"Shoal, maybe," Anchorage answered. "We aren't moving, that's for sure."

A brief, shrill noise returned through the channel, startling the five of us, disappearing no longer than second after, followed by muffled static feedback. I raised a hoof up to my earpiece, tapping it. "Night... Nightpath, you there?"

No response.

Ash suddenly grunted with pain, leaning against the wall with his teeth clenched. The first thing I noticed when turning to him was a gaping hole in the rear of his vest, but no blood or any sign of a wound for that matter.

"Bloody hell, man!" the white-grey pegasus lurched to him, placing a hoof on his shoulder to check him over.

"I-I'm okay," he groaned. "It got me in the plates..."

"Sluta, upphöra eld!" screeched someone from behind us in a language I did not understand.

More brief, incoherent speech came not a moment after, before my ear swiveled to the noise of metallic clinks of an object bouncing and rolling across the floor. Without any warning, a blinding light exploded before my very eyes, jolting enough to knock me backwards. I stumbled off-balance, falling onto my back on the floor, my rifle still in-hoof and falling beside me.

An ear-piercing ringing left in the wake of the flash reverberated throughout my head, throwing the remaining senses of mine completely out of wack. Despite reopening my eyes, a fading image of what I'd seen a split second before obscured my vision momentarily. When my vision did finally return, my head was sideways, with my entire form flat across the floor with either forehooves straight out on both sides.

The high-pitched buzzing in my ears faded out over a few lengthy seconds, though my hearing remained shot for the most part. Incoherent voices came from behind and almost directly above me. Someone shouted, yet still, not a word of it I could make out.

I felt my gun be lifted from the barrel, my hoof slipping from its hold around the handle behind the trigger and falling back to the floor. An alarming shadow loomed over, a silhouette above me moving across my body. Inches from the tip of my muzzle, a talon planted itself on the floor. On it was a black tactical glove of some sort with holes for the claws to fit through.

My gaze gradually lifted from the floor, briefly squinting my eyes and opening them wide afterward as I tried to snatch a better glance at the figure. He or she wore a matching short-sleeved shirt beneath a heavy vest over their chest. In the opposite talon, they held a modified rifle, fitted with a scope, laser, and a suppressor, pointing upward.

Ear swiveling to a groan beside me, opposite of the figure, my head fell, jaw smacking sideways into the floor. With my eyes facing directly forward, I took note of another figure on the floor—Ashfall—moving his hoof not more than two inches closer to his side, but otherwise motionless.

Another talon suddenly clenched around my throat, lifting me up. I winced, eyelids tightly closing as a soft grunt emit through grit teeth. The claws squeezed only gently, not nearly enough to cease blood circulation nor deprive me of oxygen, holding my upper half up about a foot above the ground.

Shakily cracking my eyelids, narrowing my gaze on the griffon's golden beak inches from my muzzle. His eyes were shielded by a visor a few shades darker than the color of his maw inside his light grey helmet, above it sat a single goggle attached to the NODs mount above the rim.

"Do me and all of your friends a favor. You forget a thousand things every day, how about you make sure this is one of 'em," he muttered, before releasing my throat and the back of my helmet striking the floor with me letting out a second, more audible grunt.

In the two seconds it took to return to part of my senses, the griffon absconded, as did the others among him who had been shouting between each other.

With just enough strength, I rolled myself onto my back and pressed a hoof into the floor, grunting. Despite taking no physical hits, the flash grenade showed to have stunned me enough to knock much of my energy out, or do much more than affect my sight and hearing.

The others seemed to have suffered the effects equally. No one was unconscious, then again, nopony knew what just happened. Apart from myself, that is.

Silver held both of his ears down with his hooves, pressing them into his temples and covering them while laying on his back. His teeth bared, grit in response of the horrid, deafening sound released by the grenade. He hadn't yet opened his eyes, which may or may not have been the brightest idea without readjusting after the blinding flash.

Among him, the others either lay on their sides or in prone position, individually wincing still after a full minute had gone by. I hurried to Silver's side and slid a hoof behind his back and gently began sitting him upward, saying, "S-Sil—Silver, get up!"

Evidently he could not hear me still, even after prying his hooves away from his ears. His eyes shot wide open, his pupils severely dilated, a definite signature of blindness, although it would be temporary.

"S-STAR?!" he cried, squinting as he attempted to see properly.

"It's me, Silver! I'm right here!" I shouted right back, loud enough for him to hopefully make out what I said.

He pushed a calm hoof into my upper chest, just beneath my larnyx, using the other to prop himself upright. In spite of his lack of sight, the beige unicorn continued to study the space around him, noting the others as they finally began to stir.

"Damn it," Ash wheezed, only just now catching his breath from the shot he took moments prior. "What the hell was that? Flashbang?"

No one responded immediately, rather initially concentrating on rising back to their hooves. From the moment he stood, Anchorage stumbled, practically hugging the wall to catch himself. Catching a quick glance in his direction, I noticed him cover his muzzle, his cheeks puffing out and turning a sickly-green color along with the majority of his face.

"Everypony good?" the sergeant grunted out, rubbing a hoof in his earlobe. A nod from myself and Silver came in reply, as well as a wretched sailor whipping around and hurling up his lunch into an opened door with the awful splatter perceptible to all, leaving none of us without uneasy stomachs afterward.

As soon as Anchorage had finished, he motioned a hoof outside of the door from which he stood half in to, before grasping the steel frame and grossly puking a bit more, panting as he turned to face us with his helmet off and against his chest, held in his other hoof. He plopped it back atop his head and clicked the strap buckle to secure it.

Returning the pegasus with a nod, Sergeant Sunset announced into comms. "We are on our way to you, Night. Five minutes."

"Copy," he responded, slightly muffled by radio distortion caused by the storm.

Immediately after, the sergeant switched frequencies, this time calling in to our ship. "Eclipse, this is Hummingbird. In need of fast extraction. We have friendlies on board to transport."

"Hummingbird, copy, hang tight. Extraction is on its way. We are closing distance to save time, over," responded the sailor at the other end of the mic.

"Copy, over," Sunset replied, switching frequencies once more, this time to address everypony. "Chopper's on its way, be ready."

***

A second violent lurch to the left threw the five of us off balance as we closed in on the bridge, where Nightpath and the remaining crew of the ship stood by. Now, the ship was leaning at an angle almost impossible to walk properly on. Any further, and for the first time in my life, I would have to use a wall as the floor.

"The waves are grinding us along the shoal," Anchorage huffed out, his wings out for stability along the crooked floor. "Last thing we need is a hundred-footer coming along and overturning us. We're screwed then."

"I appreciate the play-by-play, Petty Officer," the sergeant grunted, throwing open a hatch into a stairwell leading into the bridge tower. "That just might not be necessary right now!"

We hurried in a tight-knit in a line without a moment to stop for a breath up the multi-story staircase. About a flight of stairs beneath the control room, the pilots of the helicopter called over our channel for all to hear.

"Hummingbird, this is Raven. Two minutes 'til extract, over."

In frustration, Ashfall took helm of the mic. "May not be here two minutes!"

Although no voice returned, not even a 'copy' by the pilots, the message evidently still went through, setting forth the motion of the situation. By the ticking moments, I felt the weight of the ship begin to turn over on its side but with still a ways to go.

A rumbling vibration shook the vessel, confirming Anchorage's statement that we were, in fact, raking the area of shallow ocean floor. Faint, yet terrifying screeches of metal below our hooves as the hull tore away, among the echoing roar of flowing water as it had begun to fill the lower decks further pushed the mutual idea that it was imperative for us to get off the ship whenever possible.

Total darkness filled the stairwell as all power in the ship ceased, forcing Sunset to switch on his rifle's flashlight to guide the way, even as we rushed into the control room, the Alder's captain, and a few other crew mates waited, each wearing life vests, minus Nightpath who accompanied them.

"My ship, she has run aground," the captain somberly said, calm as ever, apart from the evident grief in his tone. "We have spent years with each other. It saddens me to acknowledge this to be her final voyage."

"Yeah, those bastards in Trottingham will pay us good in reparations for this!" added the sullen crew member from earlier, receiving nods from the other three.

"Where's the chopper, sergeant?" Night stepped up to him, silhouetted by a flash of lightning, the only other means of seeing properly.

"About a minute out now," he answered hastily, moving around the larger pony to the captain. "Traditionally, captains either go down with their ship, or they are the last one off. Not this time. You and your ponies will board first, is that clear?"

"Well, what about the rest of my crew?" the captain blinked, eyes briefly darting down and up as he eyeballed the sergeant.

"I'm afraid if there is anypony left below deck, it is too late for them. We found blood a few levels down, no bodies. Whoever planted those explosives in the engine room have to be behind it," Sunset replied sternly.

"Helo inbound!" Ash shouted from the front corner of the bridge, looking out as spotlights from the chopper swept across the lopsided deck of the ship.

Focus shifting to the stallion and back, Sunset nodded once. "It's go time. Everypony, on me!"

At his word, the captain and the remaining crew lined up behind the sergeant, with us taking the end to surround them in case of a second ambush, and the eleven of us speedily made our way down the same flights of stairs before reaching the deck, where the blackhawk hovered above at about forty or fifty feet.

In the form of blinding rain and rough surf, water splashed across the steel deck, making for a slick surface to run across and resulting in most of us having to take hold of the railing so as to not unintentionally slide off into the ocean on the other side of the ship, which held itself mere feet above the water surface while our side remained unevenly higher, all while the entire vessel continued to shift.

Rather than ropes used earlier, a basket fit for laying a single pony down in for rescues dropped down steadily, rocking vigorously back and forth in the gusty winds before Night and Ash grabbed hold to plant it flat on the deck, in it loading the captain and two of his crew mates, who each hung on for dear life as they rose up toward the helicopter.

The second all three were safely inside, the basket dropped again, this time crashing against the side off the edge of the ship and narrowly out of reach. In order to bring it back over, Silver ignited his horn, grunting as he lifted the heavy steel cage-like stretcher over the railing, where the final two civilian ponies boarded, along with Anchorage, as ordered by the sergeant.

Atop the slicing blades of the chopper above, as well as the roar of the storm in all directions up or down, one particular noise caught my attention. Ear swiveling, I snapped in the direction further down the deck, where the metal grate walkway had buckled upward among with a gaping hole in the ship that swayed ever so gently, with water pouring in.

Another jolt startled those of us still down here, even as the basket lowered for a third pickup. Silver and Night loaded up, being only them due to Night's sheer size, weighing him as much as two ponies combined and leaving myself, Sunset, and Ash.

Part of the winch lifting the basket up gave way, causing it to dip, and the two inside it to grab hold as a Marine in the chopper cabin reeled the rope in manually to level it out. That sent a shock through all of us at once.

I fell to the ground, sliding on the wet surface against another railing along with the sergeant and Ashfall as the whole vessel moved again. With a grunt silenced by the noise all around, I pressed up on all fours, pulling Ash up, who did the same with the sergeant, each snapping our gazes in the direction of the growing crack in the deck.

"It's going to give way!" I shouted, my voice only heard through comms.

At last, the basket lowered again, but took a sudden swing in a gust that threw it toward the three of us. Ash and I ducked just in time, yet the sergeant did not, and was struck directly in the face by the basket.

We pushed it off of Sunset so it no longer pinned him against the railing, finding his body to be limp and muzzle soaked with blood that dripped down onto his vest. My eyes shot wide open, as did Ash's.

"I got it, get him on there!" Ash yelled, grunting in effort as he bore the basket's weight from the opposite end.

I crouched slightly, looping a hoof behind Sunset's shoulders, the other around his back, lifting steadily until he lay flat in the basket, head turned to the side and eyes shut.

"Get in, get in!" Ash ordered, hopping inside the basket above the sergeant's head without sitting on him in the tiny space, with me following suit a second after. "Pull us up!"

The winch on the chopper's side began reeling in the rope, lifting the basket with the three of us in it gradually, right as a massive wave swept across the deck where we had just stood.

Upon reaching the opened cabin door, the Marine waiting pulled the bloodied, unconscious body of the sergeant inside, with me and Ash climbing inside and seating against the wall as the marine slid the door shut, locking it. Glancing out one of the windows, I gazed right back down at the vessel, throwing off my rain-drenched helmet and panting.

Ear-piercing metallic screeching and ripping, along with the horrifying straining of steel bending and breaking, all as the gaping crevasse on the port-side hull grew wider and soon met the opposite side.

The Alder began to turn by the force of a strong wave sloshing against the hull near the bow. With an enormous snapping noise, the forward half of the ship broke free, dipping beneath the high surf and bobbing for a full few moments before disappearing, the stern soon following with bits and pieces of debris breaking off and crashing down into the water.

Rolling on to its starboard side, the remains of the Alder capsized over the edge of the reef, vanishing beneath a final, gigantic wave that took it under in seconds. Those of us on the right side of the helicopter watched in pure shock and awe as the hundreds of thousands of pounds of steel passed from sight instantly.

A final, relieving message addressed through all comms channels.

"This is Raven, returning to base."

Author's Note

Who are the mysterious squadron of griffons? What were they doing on the Alder? Why was Star and his unit spared? So many questions...

Either way, I'm happy to finally finish this mini arc in the story. A smaller one shall come within the next few chapters, but will not nearly be as action-filled. Stay tuned!

15. Rude Awakenings

In what felt like a flash, we had moved from the cabin of the blackhawk to a warm, dry corridor back on the Eclipse. Not a second of memory came back during the short period when we disembarked, and a pair of medics standing by on the flight deck rushed the sergeant below deck for evaluation over his injuries.

Because one bullet did manage to strike him, Ashfall, against his opposition on being checked as well, was forcefully escorted into sick bay to ensure no damage had been caused to his skin or any other parts of his body he was not previously aware of. For a Marine of his resilience and brawn, it was far too common for him to neglect acknowledging an injury if it isn't of sufficient pain.

Evidently, the rest of us ended up in the same room, each with our own nurses thoroughly examining our bodies under some blankets they'd at some point draped over us, including me. My memory was strangely spotty for the moment, and thinking about it kept me farther from being any sort of happy about it.

In a separate room, the captain of the Alder, and his four remaining crew mates were especially treated for injuries, if any. All in all, we could not have been luckier to escape in the time that we did. One second too late, and some if not all of us might not have made it to the chopper.

My gaze moved slowly to the side, fixing on Ashfall, who sat on the edge of a medical cot, a hoof over his right shoulder, above the point where the bullet should have punctured had he not been with a vest. The force of the bullet striking his plates, however, left a nasty bruise that ended up being rubbed down with a cream of some sort to ease the swelling.

Off to my right, I noticed Anchorage arguing with a mare sailor, holding the needle attached to an IV bag in her hoof. Same old Anchorage with his fear of needles. Yet again, he lost the fight. This time, the nurse used no special tool to seduce him and he let her stick it into his arm. His vomiting session earlier apparently left him dehydrated beyond hell. Who wouldn't it?

Above all else, the room was significantly more calm ever since my last trip here. To not hear the pained cries of a sailor as medics rushed to cease their bleeding after taking numerous gunshots across the chest, or the overall chaotic chatter of confused, frightened ponies in an overwhelmed room was, needless to say, a strange relief, because that is exactly how things were last time.

Yet, still no word on the sergeant a good fifteen minutes later, or twenty, or thirty... or an hour. I completely lost track of time in my train wreck of thought. Too much settled on my mind to remotely begin organizing the discord occurring up above. What repeated in my head was the disbelief that we'd escaped yet another incident, albeit narrowly.

One thing that popped into mind that simply did not add up were those armed griffons, how they had managed to keep themselves hidden up until the right time. That is what I believe ruled out the possibility of pirates, or especially any remaining GGC troops. No, these guys had specialized suppressed weapons, gear, everything. They were far too neat to be either one of those options.

More so, they spared us. That's what hit me most as peculiar. The bombs could have definitely been work of the Constitution, if any are left at this point. Leaving us be? Unlikely. Either them or pirates would have done far worse in terms of catching us like they did back on the Alder.

Pirates would have either taken us hostage or straight-up left us to die Constitution troops, without a doubt, would have ended us on sight, or captured and execute us later on video for the world to see on a video website as revenge. That is what did not add up in the least.

I decided it would be best to hold it until we are out of the sick bay so as to not cause a scene in here and give the nurses the assumption that I am going insane. Nah, that was two months ago. I'm probably already insane at this point thanks to my fucked up sleeping schedule.

Broken from zoning out at the clearing of a pony's throat, I glanced up from the edge of the cot I sat on, fixing on a stallion removing what appeared to be a surgical mask from his muzzle. "For those of you who have accompanied Sergeant Sunset Haze, I have some news," he addressed.

My ears lost their perk, and both mentally and physically, I braced for the announcement that was sure to send me over the breaking point.

"He is stable now. However, he has suffered blood loss through the nasal cavities, and a broken nose. We will continue to watch him overnight, and if his condition deteriorates, we will work out an airlift to bring him back to Manehattan."

I wasn't the only one to let that breath out after a good minute of holding it in. It was almost collective as we exhaled. Perhaps for a moment I mouthed a silent prayer to the princesses, thankful for the opposite of what news I feared.

With a gentle clop of hooves setting on the floor, followed by quiet steps out of the room, I watched as Ashfall strode past my cot and around the corner. By merely glancing at the look on his face, I noted evident disdain in spite of the announcement.

Furrowing an eyebrow, I unwrapped the blanket around me and followed him into the hall, where he stood, head down, hoof over his eyes. Beneath trembling lips, his teeth grit, only barely visible through a couple of gaps.

From the angle which I had stopped a few feet away, peeking around the corner at him, I watched a single tear emerge from the shadow beneath his hoof and fall down his cheek. It would still take an observant pony to notice, as his silent sobs went overlooked by the majority of the sailors that strode by.

Either my memory is just that awful, or I've failed to notice a time previously, although I was for certain that this is the first time I have ever visibly seen Ash cry. For a stallion of his size, I cannot say if it was strange to witness, but watching him stand in the empty hallway, shedding tears, did not feel right.

"You okay, buddy?" I asked quietly, now fully standing out in the hall with him but keeping some distance.

He attempted to inhale, instead sniffling rather loudly, the tip of his nose red with inflammation. He moved his hoof off of his eyes after wiping them, turning his head to look at me and failing to smile. "Yeah, of course. I was just... really worried about him."

"Who's he to you? If... you don't mind me asking," I strode closer.

"He is in my unit, 1st Infantry Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment. He doesn't typically deploy on ships, this is his first time. When I saw that basket hit him, then all the blood, I thought he was done for."

"Well, he'll be out for a while, then," I responded. "If hopefully not discharged."

Ash shrugged. "Seven years he's served, would do him right to kick back at this point with all due respect to him."

"Hey, he's not that old, and I don't even know how old he is."

"He's older than you and me, that's all I'll say. You get what I mean, though. He's got a wife in Ponyville, don't know if he has foals. Regardless, I know for a fact she'll be unhappy by the time we're back in port," he leaned back against the wall, sighing.

"But he's okay, and that's all that matters," I nodded once.

"I knew he would be. He's a tough motherfucker," Ash remarked. "From a grunt to a sergeant, though, I wish he'd slow down for once in his career if he hopes to keep it."

I let off a small chuckle. "Good luck telling him that."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ash chuckled as well, briefly. "Perhaps this will be a wake-up call, or in his case, a reveille."

Again, I chuckled. "We'll see, I guess. How's your shoulder?"

Ash glanced over, brow raising. "What?"

"Your shoulder, how is it doing?"

"It's bruised. Why?"

Looking in either direction of us, then making eye contact, I whispered to him. "They never cleared us."

"Bullshit, I release myself," he scowled.

I shook my head. "That's not how it works, Ash. Get back in there until they're done."

"That's why you came out here, isn't it?" he grunted out with a hardening glare.

"Not at all," I responded honestly, yet still grinned like I had fibbed. "Go back in there, sit on your cot, and wait for them to clear you."

Flapping his lips as he sighed, Ash stood up straight. "Fine," then walked back into the sick bay, with me in tail.

***

As it turned out in the two days that followed, central command ordered the fleet back to Equestria immediately as Hurricane Aquarius rapidly intensified to category three status in thirty-six hours. For how slow it shifted northward, we remained in the thick of it for a total of twelve days as we took a one-eighty turn and headed back home.

Our mission, search and investigate the strange energy signals out to sea, as a result, was scrubbed due to the inclement weather. Not once did we come close to their last known positions.

In addition, the Alder crew, as well as Sergeant Sunset Haze, were our top priorities for the time being until we make port. Thankfully, the sergeant had no complications that required him to be airlifted to shore, which could not have been carried out regardless thanks to the storm.

As for the rest of us, our jobs went on like clockwork. I returned to the bridge to resume my normal shift, Nightpath to the reactor room, Ash, Celestia knows where, and Anchorage, fixing little hiccups around the ship.

By the end of the first month out to sea, what was originally scheduled to be two to three months in all, we managed to escape the storm's unrelenting grasp. Before long, the rising skyline of Manehattan emerged from the distant horizon beneath cloudless skies, a rarity to most, but one that was welcomed with open arms.

It felt longer than a month, to be quite honest. Much longer. I could not imagine a six-month deployment, or more. Perhaps I should be grateful for these little incidents to send us home earlier than expected.

On the contrary, it seemed every time somepony would end up hurting in the long run, or dead. That is just how these things went it seemed, and it left an uneasy feeling in my stomach that I can say for a fact is not sea sickness.

***

Minutes prior to a pair of tugboats shoving the Eclipse gently against its dock, I had been dismissed from the bridge and made my way below deck to repack my seabag in preparation of deboarding.

Anchorage and Silver Edge were already in there when I strode in, and without a minute to pause and chat, I took my large blue sack and began stuffing dirty laundry inside, anything that I had brought along—which, in all honest-to-Luna truth, was very little.

The littlest of jolts rocked the ship, a sign of the hull bouncing gently off the concrete edge of the pier. Out through the small port hole in our room, I noticed crowds of families waiting for us to make our way down to them.

Never quite was not a heartwarming sight watching fellow marines and sailors reunite with their loved ones. Not once in my career have I been welcomed home by my parents, seeing as they hadn't a clue that I'd even enlisted a year ago in June—which reminded me that my one-year anniversary since joining the Marine Core was rapidly approaching.

"What do you two have planned?" Anchorage asked, kickstarting a conversation while we finished packing.

"For what? When we get off the boat?" I asked back, receiving a silent nod. "Didn't plan that far, to be quite honest with you."

"Fair enough. Silver?"

The beige unicorn failed to reply, and was stuffing his bag to the ceiling with his clothes. A small frown pursed his lips.

"Silver!" I raised my voice slightly.

He jumped, snapping his head up and eyes meeting mine directly. "W-what?"

His mere reaction made my eyebrow raise. "Did you hear what he asked?"

"Hear what who asked?" he cocked his head.

"Anchorage asked what you have planned when we're off the ship," I repeated.

Silver blinked twice, gazing forward at me but in a brief pondering trance it appeared. "Might, uh... find someplace to eat. Galley food leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

"You sure it's that?" Anchorage commented, smirking as he too finished up.

I rolled my eyes at the pegasus' remark, then looked Silver in the eye again briefly, before he returned his attention to packing. That was odd of him to zone out like he did. Not common on his part, that's for sure.

Choosing just to shrug it off, I looped a hoof through the strap of my bag and yanked it up over my shoulder and across my back, starting out of the tiny room and filing in with a few others on their way to the hull hatches where narrow walkways for disembarking stretched upward from the dock.

As soon as the door flipped open, and the walkway's hooks latched against a lip in the floor, sailors began stepping off the massive carrier and making their way down to the possibly tens of hundreds of ponies waiting for them.

I patiently waited for Anchorage and Silver before falling in to the steady line, with Nightpath and Ashfall somewhere behind us, possibly trapped in another line further down the ship.

The moment my hooves left the metal floor and planted onto the solid concrete, I took in a deep, refreshing breath of the warm Manehattan air, a mixture of an industrial smell and the saltiness of the nearby ocean and the rivers that fed into it.

For once in forever, I could not have been more grateful for such a gorgeous, sunny day, a wonderful change from the weather far east.

***

"Come on in," chimed the collected voice of a mare from beyond the door, moments prior to me stepping in. Glancing up from over the screen of her computer, the fawn-coated mare smiled welcomingly. "Ah, Star, take a seat!"

"Thank you," I nodded once, the door gently closing behind me as I sauntered up to her desk in center of the small room, looping around the chair, and sitting down gently.

Shutting the lid of her laptop and folding the frame of her glasses, the doctor retained her genuine smile. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise, Doc," I returned a thin smile and a second nod. "It has been a bit too long, hasn't it?"

"Somewhat, yes," Pastel nodded, placing her glasses down off to the side and sliding open a drawer to extract a folder of my information. "Any particular reason why?" she innocently questioned.

"Deployment. Got cut short, though. A lot went on," I responded firmly.

"Most intriguing. Why cut short?"

"That's... why I'm here, Doc," I paused, inhaling softly. The tannish-orange unicorn's emerald gaze lifted to fix on me.

Placing my hooves flat on the edge of her desk, I narrowed my eyes directly on to hers. "You requested that I take things slow and easy from here on out, ma'am. But, I just..." I stopped again, sighing out. "I broke all of it. I think I am back to square one, Doc."

Closing the small folder, she pushed the drawer in with the help of magic while she set the folder in center of the desk before her. "What makes you say that, Star?"

I eased back into the chair, hooves on the armrests. A frown had worked its way onto my muzzle, and for what it was, could not have been missed by her.

"I let ponies die on my watch again. Rescue mission, mid-Antlertic. Ship caught in the same storm we were had lost power and we came to their aid. On our way down to the engine room, we found... w-we found..."

My hooves began to tremble on the rests. A breath caught as I so briefly lost sense of reality, staring forward in an abyss of sudden fear.

"Star, Star... hey, look at me."

I twitched, moving my eyes down not more than an inch to the fawn unicorn sitting upright in her chair opposite from me across her expensive desk.

"I will not force you to talk this moment. If you feel you must step out, you may."

I kept silent for the majority of the minute after her statement. When I did make up my mind, I shook my head. "No, I'll keep going."

Failing to notice at first, a new smile grew on her lips. Perhaps it was a sign of progress after all, despite months of doubt.

"We never did find the ponies, but, we did catch a glimpse of who ki—"

My hooves practically hugged the armrests beneath them as the whole world rattled. Loose objects such as picture frames, books, and other decorative items trembled, rising in volume above a low rumble from outside that faded after two, maybe three seconds. It felt a lot longer than that, though.

"What the fuck was that?" I blurted with surprise, scanning around me.

"Language," Pastel sternly commented, sitting a cup of pens back up after having tipped over in the shaking. "They have been more of a nuisance than a scare. By now we all should be used to them. A client I had in the other day who was from Los Pegasus said she thought she was back home."

"The quakes?" I relaxed eventually, mentally cursing at myself for not realizing sooner. "They are peculiar, I'll say."

She nodded in agreement. "Now, if you do not mind, continue?" politely requested the mare, cupping her hooves in front of her on the desk.

Author's Note

Bit of a shorter chapter compared to recent ones, but it will pick up again soon.

16. Top of the World

"Sir! Your suit is ready."

I must have zoned out somewhere in the three minutes it took for the single pony running the dry cleaning shop to scan the reservation card given to me the day before and run into the back of the shop, for which it took him a small raise in his voice to grab my attention.

Blinking out of my trance, my eyes momentarily met with the stallion's, then shifted down to the uniform in dark colors wrapped neatly in a protective layer or two of plastic so as to avoid dirtying in transit.

Shrugging off the possibility that I'd been standing there like a statue for Luna knows how long, I placed ten bits on the counter, which the cleaner gladly took as he exchanged the suit for them.

"Thank you very much," I gave a single nod, taking hold of the hanger sticking through the top of the plastic-wrapped uniform and gently folding it across my back, before heading out of the shop and into the warming streets of Bronclyn, only a few blocks from base.

For once, the outside temperature was absolutely ideal to my constantly fluctuating standards. Not too hot, not too cold, perfection. Spring was in the air, that was for sure. Beneath the warm sun, the Manehattan skyline glimmered fabulously in its radiance, making for a picture-perfect view from across the river, as noted by a few ponies carrying ridiculously large cameras along the waterfront railing, snapping photos as quickly as they could. Tourists.

If it weren't for the decent change of weather, not as many ponies as there were out today would be wandering about, taking in the sights and smells of the city. Countless times passing restaurant after restaurant I would find myself taking in a sizable whiff of freshly-baked Manehattan-style pizza, pasta, or other delectable dishes that were well on their way to making my stomach growl. Seven hours after waking up, and still not a bite to eat was slowly getting to me.

The hunger would have to be pushed off to the side for now, at least until after I drop my uniform off at the barrack. I knew that evening there would be plenty of food and drinks at the grand opening party, or ball, or what ever the heck it was. All I had been informed was that it was a party, with the invitation supposedly delivered to loads of Marines and sailors, and even soldiers as far away as Fort Fetlock.

It made sense for the most part. The event was to be held at GenTech Tower after approximately a year and a half of being under construction. The odd, asymmetrically-shaped high-rise consisting almost entirely of glass with hints of steel beams on the corners and the shiny grey roof, topped with two black antenna spires, one taller than the other, dominated the skyline, becoming one of the city's tallest structures. Or the tallest. I couldn't be for sure.

I only knew the last time I had seen it up close was months prior—on Hearts and Hooves Day, to be more precise. Those working on it truly stepped up their game to finish the thing on its late-April deadline, then to furnish the purchased offices of other corporations moving in to the building. Now it was the first week of May, the supposed-planned time for the building to officially open. That night was tonight.

Once I entered the base through the main gate, I headed to the neat row of barracks to the apartment I shared with Nightpath who, I presumed, was still knocked out after his recent shift schedule alteration, leaving him working throughout the night hours and clocking out just before noon, like another pony I knew. I felt for him.

Between now and 1900—which was when we were due to leave for the party—a list-full remained undone. Lunch, then another short rotational shift at the intelligence offices, as I'd been ordered to by Shadow and Hardstaff months prior, followed by a second shower, and finally, getting dressed, which would take upwards of a half hour or more at least.

***

Having dropped off my dress clothes at the barrack room, I quietly changed out of a light zip-up jacket into my basic working attire—or BDUs, which ever ponies preferred—while minding a slumbering Nightpath, wrapped like an oversized burrito beneath his sheets. That wasn't an uncommon sight in the slightest.

Without a moment to pause, I slipped the closed laptop in a bag built specifically for carrying computers and slung it over my shoulder, heading back outside and down the stairs at the end of the open-sided hall.

Next stop was the Intelligence Facility, where the majority of the base's computer systems are housed. The building is split up into many sectors, each with their own purpose. A second has since been constructed to replace the former, smaller structure that came of use the day the Great Gryphon Constitution attacked. The newer complex was taller, wider, and far more sophisticated overall.

Better yet, the place actually had signs pointing to individual sectors, making getting lost easily a thing of the past. The geology center was located on the southeast wing of the building, near one of the entrances on the east face, and is on the first floor.

For how small it was, the center had only been operated by two or three ponies, max. That made four if I included myself, despite not being full-time staff like these guys were for as long as I was aware this office existed.

Walking in, all three stood gathered near the central console in the darkened room, lit purely by numerous desktop screens in trios—much like my desk on the Eclipse—and a large digital panel on the wall opposite of the door, displaying a regional map with Manehattan in dead center. Out to sea, numerous beacons showed in a lighter blue shade over the water with identification numbers above them. Buoys.

Closing the door quietly, but just audible enough to signal my entrance, I strode in. "Afternoon."

Argonne Lunis—or 'Argony' as we'd nicknamed him—the steel-blue unicorn just a few inches taller than myself, his horn adding to his height and slightly longer than that of an average unicorn, glanced over his shoulder and gave a single nod. "Morning, Lance Corporal," he corrected, speaking in his signature deep scouse accent. "You're early."

I blinked as I took a peek at a digital clock up on the wall showing local time. Not even noon yet. "I seem to have lost track of time."

"Haven't we all?" responded the brunette-coated earth pony, Magnus, seated before a screen in center of the room, his cover off and placed to the side on the desk.

"What are we looking at today, Sergeant Major?" I asked, making my way over to them, removing the backpack from my shoulder.

The sergeant major, a bun-maned mare by the name of Aphrodite, moved her gaze not an inch from the larger screen on the far wall. "Zero activity, Lance Corporal, which is most peculiar. This time yesterday, we clocked about sixty-seven ranging anywhere from 1.2 to 3.4 in a twelve-hour span."

Pulling a rolling chair out and taking a seat, I tapped the space bar on a keyboard, returning the computer from idle mode, before enlarging a map recording yesterday's tremors. Most of the rings—multicolored in nature to tell their depth apart, between darker and lighter colors—centering primarily offshore with the closest epicenter located around twelve nautical miles southeast of the city.

"And there is nothing today?" I repeated, switching windows to a live map recording the region beginning at midnight last night, as it did to reset every new day.

Responded to with shaking heads, it was then Argony who responded with a hint of agitation. "None, not even a trace." I could see why he sounded the way he did.

A frown fell upon my muzzle after taking a second glance at the monitors. Weeks, even months of strange tremors, just to cease now? Unlikely.

I learned most professional geologists would express more concern than usual if such occurred. On rare occasions did a lack of movement signify something much larger to come. A placid Aphrodite made no hysteria in the moment, other than evident, mutual dismay between her and the others.

"Have weeee..." I trailed off briefly as my thoughts collected. "...reset the systems? Could be a refreshing glitch and it is stuck on midnight."

Magnus nodded. "Twice, Star. Twice we have rebooted the instruments. This is live feed."

The frown I wore further pursed my lips as question marks grew larger in my mind with added bewilderment. From my backpack I withdrew the laptop, opening the screen, and turning it on.

Typing carefully on the keyboard and pressing the 'enter' key, the program tied in to the office's main operating system loaded hastily, displaying a map exactly alike the ones on the monitors.

"What about the sensors?" I mentioned, not removing my eyes from the laptop before me.

"What about them?" tediously questioned Aphrodite, head turning to my position.

"Perhaps the last quake rattled some wires, I don't know," I shrugged, unsure if my suggestions were remotely logical to them at this point.

The staff sergeant tapped her chin in thought. "Conceivably. Unlikely. Though, I suppose anything is possible. I will dial the technician, get him over here to take a look," she responded, picking up the receiver for a landline phone on the desk beside Magnus'.

While she spoke to a base technician, I returned my attention to the screen, almost blankly staring at the empty map displaying absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. The longer I stared, the more questions arose in my head with endless paths of possibilities racing by. There simply were not enough answers to make any sort of sense here.

***

After carefully removing the plastic wrap encasing my uniform, I worked my way into it without creasing or wrinkling the fabric. First came the pants colored with the trims of dark blue on the jacket, as tight as can be around my waist, followed by the jacket that squeezed my upper torso worse than the pants did my waist.

The whole of the uniform was purely matte-black, with silver pure-steel buttons lining neatly up the center up to the collar, where the regulated breakpoint was. On the sleeves, near the shoulder on the left, the rank emblem of Lance Corporal displayed proudly. The collar, matching black on the outside, while blue the shade of Luna's coat on the inside, stretched partially up our necks and closed around the skin. Any tighter would surely be deadly for whomever wore it.

The collars around the hooves included three silver buttons on the outer sides—rather than just one on the old uniform—with a thin band of night blue looping around the sleeve hole, with the rest of the sleeve tucked neatly inside. Polished black hoof guards had also been provided to keep ponies clean all over. The slightest of dirt or dust, we knew, would tick off any officer who just so happened to spot, or even smell.

A black belt with Princess Luna's moon as the buckle, looped around the pants above the jacket as it extended far beyond the waist line, and last but not least, a white-and-black officer-like cap, with the emblem of the Lunar Marine Corps in fine silver just beneath the top rim.

I was never much of a fan of dressing formally. In fact, as a colt, I hated it with every ounce in me. Whenever elementary and middle school photos came about, it took a lot to bring a smile to my face, knowing how stupid I looked in a suit and tie, and my mane brushed like some cringe-worthy seventies rock star. Those days were embarrassing.

Now, I found myself to be quite fond of the dress uniform. Perhaps because it matched me. Any pony looked good in military dress blacks or whites, everyone knew that virtually. It would also serve as a perfect explanation as to why sailors tend to have strong feelings for one another. Apart from Anchorage, of course.

I never looked at myself in a mirror the way I did tonight. Of course, I needed to ensure every little detail was perfect. In the Marine Core, there is no room for error when it comes to dress uniforms, as others we've witnessed have learned the hard way. The same went for the Navy, albeit slightly less strict. Only slightly.

Yet, on any other occasion when I would look over myself in a mirror, every time, there would be that little nitpicking, degrading voice tossing away any self-esteem I may have had previously.

That voice was my own. I accepted that I was not the best looking of stallions. The few others I've known well enough apart from my battle buddies strictly disagreed, though I knew for a fact that they only did so in attempt to reinflate my poor ego left in the wake of my father's reign.

But, to stare right back into my own eyes, to see the scrutinizing crimson gaze and the still-burning flame in them after all I have witnessed, I felt proud of myself—honored, even—to see just how far I've come in such a short period of time. The self-doubt would exist for as long as I have left on this earth, I knew that.

Nevertheless, to gawk over myself, admiring the uniform I proudly donned and to continue to be around to witness a better future for the city I fought for five months ago left a warm sensation in my once-frigid heart. I felt purity to belong to somewhere at long last. Almost a year since my first day in Manehattan, and I finally come to realize.

I broke the close examination over myself at Nightpath's calling from just beyond the door. "Hey, Star, can you come here for a second?"

Exiting the bathroom, looping around the small corner into our little bedroom, I took notice of the large umber stallion fumbling with the buttons on the front of his jacket, grunting as he struggled to meet one hole with its corresponding button.

The only issue was, each button was one above the correct hole, leaving his jacket completely uneven with one hole hanging below, and one button too high above another. Shaking my head, I walked up.

"Here, you've got it all crooked," I said, motioning for him to stop, and beginning to undo each of the buttons before straightening the jacket out and trying again. The right way this time.

"No wonder," he chuckled softly, looking straight down at me and the buttons as they now slipped into each of the designated slits effortlessly.

Afterwards, I reached up to his collar, straightening it as well until it sat neatly without any creases or awkward points against his neck comfortably. Last, but not least, I wrapped the belt around his waist, above his jacket as with regulation, and clicking the buckle together, twisting it just slightly so that it centered perfectly.

Stepping back, I took one final check over him, smiling. "Better?"

Night responded with a single nod, and then a returning smile. "Better, thank you."

"Look at you, stud. Gonna impress the mares tonight!" I nudged his shoulder with a grin.

That brought a chuckle out of him. "If there will be any. Mares are typically not all interested with these parties. In my experience, that is."

"In your experience? What parties did you go to, party stallion?"

"None!" Night blushed furiously, snatching up the cap for his dress uniform. "Well... maybe, er... one or two when I was a colt."

"Oooooh, so you sneaked out of the orphanage, huh?"

The draft stallion wrinkled his nose, nodding. "On occasion." I furrowed an eyebrow at that. "Okay, maybe every other weekend!"

"I'm messing with you, man," I laughed, leaning my hoof to his chest and dipping my head slightly. "I won't judge."

"I would hope not," he responded, flicking one of his ears and placing the cover flat on his head, adjusting it once or twice to neaten it.

***

Much like our graduation, three each packed into blacked-out taxi carriages, paid ahead of time by the host of the opening party. More than necessary showed up, and some decided to go individually so as to avoid a few carriage haulers leaving without a passenger or two. It seemed the ponies at GenTech anticipated a far larger turnout from the armed forces—more specifically, the Lunar Navy and Marines.

The ride into the city was primarily uneventful, apart from minor congestion on the bridge. It lightened up the deeper into the city we traveled, even though masses of ponies still packed the streets in the late-evening rush. For just about anywhere, Manehattan in particular, that was the norm.

The corner in which the tower was located no longer had concrete barriers, orange-and-white-taped warning fences, and massive building equipment blocking the way. Any remaining notable scent of a construction site was now faint, and the thin coatings of dust left in its wake had washed away with recent showers and cleansing the block.

Around the front faces of the building, crowds gathered on two sides surrounding a temporary pathway leading from the curb up to the sliding glass doors that blended with the architecture of the slender, modern structure. The mass of ponies carried cameras, taking pictures as individuals or duos of finely-dressed mares and stallions strode up the designated walkway and disappearing beyond the wall of glass.

Flashes of cameras lit up the hundred-foot radius surrounding the entrance, reflecting off of the tower's windows and against surrounding buildings, like a photo shoot. That didn't raise questions at all.

Myself, Anchorage, and Silver Edge carefully exited the carriage, as did Nightpath and Ashfall behind ours, among other serviceponies along the edge of the street.

"What is this, a celebrity event?" scoffed Anchorage, one hoof lifted above the red carpet as lights flashed on either sides of us.

"Seems an awful lot like it," a deep voice responded, approaching from just off to our side.

By instinct, we clicked our hooves together and stiffened to attention stance as the second lieutenant strolled in our direction.

His uniform, while overall the exact same as ours—minus Anchorage, who donned white crackerjacks—included prominent differences, the most notable being his rack of ribbons across his left chest, neither of which I or likely any of my buddies knew were.

"Good evening, Marines, and sailor." Arc Nobis nodded once to us. "At ease."

"Fancy seeing you here, Second Lieutenant. I had no clue you show interest in parties," I said, respectfully.

"It is a gala, is it not?" he answered mundanely, adding, "I suppose, as long as there are lights to drown the dark, it should serve as an evening to unwind."

"That it will be, sir," I said with a nod.

Returning the nod, the second lieutenant began to turn towards the door, expression toneless as prior. "Take care, and try not to pass out drinking."

"Will do, sir," Ash replied, only to exchange knowing grins with Anchorage, one that I caught out of the corner of my eye.

This was going to be a long evening.

***

Ignoring nonstop shouting and the flashes of cameras from the press barricaded behind temporary fences, we ventured into the building with many others that had just arrived, splitting off into two elevators.

The event was to be held—or already being held in this case—on the top floor, in the penthouse which, as we came to learn the instance the elevator doors slid open, stretched upward a total of three levels.

The first 'floor' was the wider of the three, covering the whole size of the building, while the two others above it only partially, making an open atrium with an enormous glass wall on the east face that overlooked the lower island and the steadily-darkening ocean horizon. Each floor above had their own little 'balconies' that overlooked the main area on the first level, with glass-and-granite staircases in center, connecting each floor with one another.

To our right as we walked in, a sizable bar with a bluish-white glowing wall behind the racks of alcoholic beverages. A sole bartender served mares and stallions with style, flipping full canteens of pure alcohol and landing them upright on the counter and pouring multiple drinks at once with ponies observing cheering him on every so often above the booming music coming from the makeshift DJ booth and dance floor.

"Man, this place is hopping!" yelled Ash, having to raise his voice, gazing around the enormous room, eyes wide with awe. "This dude has got some serious money!"

"No shit, it's his skyscraper!" retorted Anchorage, shooting him a look of condescension. "How about you start working out at the library instead of the gym, aye?"

Ash pursed his lips in a frown, looking purely offended at the obvious banter insult. Rather than a witty comeback, he simply rolled his eyes and groaned, drowned out entirely against the party noise.

The pegasus sailor brought his hoof up, patting it once audibly on Ash's shoulder, shedding his short-lived snark. "Let us get our drink on, shall we?" he proceeded to smirk afterward.

Responding with a nod and returning a grin, Ash started toward the bar with Anchorage, peering back over his shoulder and calling to us. "You're more than welcome to join us, boys!"

I shook my head. "Nah, I'll pass. For now."

Blinking twice, the dark brown draft stallion scanned around him, then back to the bar, and lastly, to me. "I'm going tooooo... go with them!"

Shrugging, I gestured, "Go right ahead, we'll be fine."

"Right. See you in a bit!" Night giddily declared, trotting after the duo.

That makes three morning hangover sufferers. For as much as I'd known Silver to have a knack for cider, he remained by my side. I suppose he wasn't willing to leave me hanging elsewhere all alone.

Though, perhaps we had overestimated the festivity's repute. Excluding drinking and dancing, practically nothing else interested the two of us. In fact, there was hardly anything else to do. That left us with a disenchanting taste in our mouths. Oh, well. At least the music was not half bad.

***

Exiting through the elevator doors as they slid open, Arc Nobis sauntered into the brightened, vacant hall, the tiled floors shined to a point to where they could second as mirrors. He kept the noise of his hooves to a bare minimum.

His sharp violet gaze examined the corridor, a strong scent of polish in the air as he initially took note of. On either side of him sat multiple enclosed rooms, sequestered with inch-thick frosted glass, precluding anypony on the outside from peeking in. Each door, he additionally wrote down in his mind, was also fitted with a card lock for added protection.

From behind, emerging from a corner near the elevator, a security guard strode closer, fixing on to the Marine further down. His hoofsteps against the brand new tile floor were audible from far across the hall, as detected by Arc prior to the pony even spotting him. Rather, he continued with slow steps, examining the individual offices, pretending to not notice the guard.

As the officer caught up no more than a few moments later, he came to a stop a few feet behind. "Sir, you should not be down here. This is a restricted area, only employees are granted access," he sternly insisted.

Halting, Arc glanced over his shoulder, slowly facing the guard and appearing innocent. "Oh, my mistake. I was simply searching for the restroom," answered Arc, nonchalantly approaching the guard, faking a smile that appeared genuine.

Just as the officer had begun to turn away, dropping any prior suspicion he had for the stallion, Arc drew a nightstick hidden beneath his belt, striking the guard to the ground. Before he could scramble up to his hooves, a second blow knocked him unconscious, leaving two sizable bruises where the stallion's mane had been shaved off.

Arc knelt to the officer's side, hastily checking his pockets and snatching a lanyard attached to a security access card, tucking it away into one of the flaps on his dress uniform and peering in either direction to ensure nopony had witnessed. Confirming all to be clear, he stepped over and around the unconscious form, making his way back to the elevator to search another floor.

Author's Note

Aaaaand it's back from a rather short hiatus, though it was enough to throw me behind once more when I had a decent roll going. Either way, enjoy!

Also, yes, this chapter does switch back and forth between first and third-person.

One more thing, here's the concept art for GenTech Tower!

18. Inspections

It was somewhere around one in the morning where the party goers had begun to lighten up and head home, as the case for us five. Too much alcohol in addition to cocky Marines spelled disaster. I think it came as a shock to myself more to discover Anchorage far unalike the stereotypical drunk sailor, and in fact the exact opposite. The way he acted with the swings he threw (and missed) left me wondering if he is never sober around us. Though, I suppose if he wasn’t, he would not also have his job.

Night did much of the work, dragging Anchorage into the elevator before security could be called, with myself and Silver struggling with Ash who, based on the tenseness of his body and the scowl he wore, told us he was about ready to deck somepony, too. Likely the same Marines that Anchorage argued with.

As soon as we’d reached ground level, the tension eased, and without the headache-inducing camera flashes and shouting of the press, we seated ourselves in two separate carriages and headed home. Silver, Anchor, and Ash sat in the one ahead of mine and Night’s. From back here, we heard the loud chatter and laughter of the three as they discussed the evening. I simply rolled my eyes, unable to force back the grin on my muzzle.

It soon became known between us two that, come morning, the only noise from those three would be pained groans, and possibly rumbling stomachs of alcohol attempting to force its way back up. We each took a moment to ironically thank the heavens for placing us in the same dormitory room. Or, rather, we should thank the sergeant for that.

***

I could not begin to think of how much time had slipped by between hitting the bed and passing out completely. Before then, I’d neatly torn off my uniform without care for where it landed and flopped onto my bed, and evidently left my wings open flat across the sheets.

Through lowered white pleaded shades, gentle light spilled into the room as morning came. My lids fluttered open and eyes unraveled from having rolled upwards during my slumber. A small groan escaped my parted maw as I turned my head to the side to glance at the digital clock display on the wooden stand between beds, reading a few minutes past nine.

A minuscule headache, almost too tiny to notice but there regardless pulsed with gentle intensity seemingly in rhythm with my heartbeat, throbbing in my temples ever so lightly.

I rose up from the bed sheet surface, having not once tucked myself in during the night and eased my hooves down one by one until I stood on all fours. For a brief moment did I stand on the tips of them while I stretched comfortably, twisting my head sideways until a crack jolted my neck, and for a second time as it pivoted the other way, followed by another low groan mixed with a contented sigh.

My gaze fixed on Night’s bed for a whole minute, blinking steadily, before coming to the realization that he already left for his shift. As it turned out, mine was not due to begin until later that evening, leaving the remainder of the morning and the whole afternoon at my disposal, much to my gratitude as well as dismay.

I suppose, with all of this extra time, I could lay back down and try again for a second round of sleep. If that were possible, that is. Rather, my stomach sort of made up my mind for me when it rumbled.

The kitchen Night and I had in our little living space, despite the lack of some appliances, underwent a slight remodeling, so to speak, in the weeks after moving barracks. A portable electric stove surface replaced its counterpart with two burners. For what it was, he seemed content with it for its price, and it got the job done when it came to cooking.

Although I had previously offered to bring my own brewer from Canterlot, Night insisted on having a coffee pot anyways. With one glance, a shallow breath of relief slipped out upon seeing the pot to still be half full and very much warm thanks to the heater beneath it having been left on since whenever Night had first turned it on this morning. Any superior would likely kill us if they found out, seeing how huge of a fire hazard that was, not that any of us cared much about.

Opening a cabinet above the counter, reaching up and pulling down a basic white mug by the handle, I removed the pot from the burner and carefully poured the steaming hot black liquid nearly to the top. From the corner of the counter, beside the fridge, I took an opened bag of sugar and gently shook it above the mug, observing granules trickle out and seemingly vaporize into the coffee.

With a spoon, I then stirred in the sugar collecting at the bottom thoroughly, tapping it on the edge, before placing the spoon in a small basket in the sink for later washing. Taking the mug by the handle again, I brought it up, blowing a couple of times to disperse the trail of steam rising from the beverage, and cautiously tipping the mug until the coffee touch my lips.

Oh, the sweet—yet bitter—sting of fresh caffeine. Still strange how a year prior, coffee only formerly tasted decent with cream and occasionally a touch of milk. Definitely one of the larger changes I’ve taken great notice of that began on my first deployment. That has yet to not come to mind every time I take a refreshing sip. Even seasickness no longer has an effect on me, even in the roughest of waves in the most horrid of storms. That is an improvement for sure.

After a second quick sip, I placed the mug back down on the counter and opened the refrigerator. A decent size, certainly large enough for the two of us and possibly more if these rooms had up to three or four ponies living in them. For how preoccupied we were with work, we decided to keep grocery trips light at most. Some mornings or evenings—depending on the time of our shifts—one or both of us skip eating just to head straight to bed, or if we have eaten at the chow hall on our lunch break. There were many factors behind our decision so as to avoid wasting food.

So, overall, the fridge did not have much in it. An opened gallon of milk, Night’s coffee creamer, two cartons of eggs, some butter, a couple varieties of cheese to our specific liking, along with a vegetable drawer with some carrots, lettuce, three tomatoes, and even a ball of cabbage.

I pulled out the emptier egg carton along with a half-cut stick of butter and opened a lower drawer, pulling out a frying pan and placing it atop one of the small burners. With the twist of a small knob, the burner began to gradually heat. Cutting a decent chunk off the end of the butter and wrapping the rest back up to put back in the fridge, the little square dropped in center of the pan and slid off to the side, smearing against the black metallic surface as it began to melt.

Lifting the pan up just slightly and rolling it around horizontally, letting the butter spread across the pan and sizzle as the heat grew, I plucked two eggs out of the box and cracked them against the outer edge. Each oozed out of their exposed shell, turning from transparent yellow to white as the gooey contents met the searing metallic surface.

My ears perked to the satisfying crackle of the eggs as they had begun to cook. Taking a spatula from the silverware drawer, I slipped it beneath one egg and flipped it over, following suit with the other so as to let them cook thoroughly on both sides, and continuing to do so every so often until none of the white jiggled to the touch. Seriously, how could some ponies enjoy sunny side-up eggs if they’re not done? Monsters, all of them!

With a final flip of either egg, the yolk having since broken and fried against the white in a thin layer of yellowish-orange, the knob of the portable burner flicked to ‘off’ with a mere twist. Lifting the pan, I brought it above a small plate and tilted, sliding the two eggs down onto it with the spatula’s aid, and placing the still-steaming utensil on the other side of the sink to soak beneath cold water, along with the spatula.

Taking a fork from the silverware drawer now, I remained in the kitchen as I began chowing down on the two sunny side-up-now-turned-fried-eggs and guzzling the since-cooled black coffee to serve as my breakfast for the day. Without a dinner table—or even a couch for that matter—Night and I typically hung out in the kitchen to eat. Or, on rare occasions, we sit on our beds, but mostly after long days.

Upon finishing, I placed the plate and fork on their respective sides of the sink and ran the water. With a finishing swig of coffee, I held the mug beneath the water to fill it up, then dump it back out to wash it out. While doing this, I raised a hoof to my muzzle to silence a low belch finally escaping my gut, then clearing my throat.

A silent yawn crept its way out soon after, hinting a trace of fatigue left over from waking minutes prior. While a cups worth of coffee remained in the pot, my mind set against it for the sake of an afternoon crash. Not that I have ever had one after drinking it, though it would not serve me well to pass out on the clock.

My wings unfolded and stretched with gentle pops of the bones. The feathers, for the most part, remained straightened since last night, and the past few nights before. Not often did they require fixing, or, for the grand majority of pegasi, thorough preening.

For some strange reason, it seemed pegasus ponies I have come across find it to be morally awkward to be caught preening themselves. To me, that made little sense—if any. Not that I have ever preened myself before and had to quit due to fragile wings. Fragile, in the sense of being ticklish, something I hope no pony I meet in my lifetime discovers for my sake and theirs.

It was then where I glanced back to my opened wings. I rolled them gently back and forth, like the flaps of an airplane. I folded them to my sides, then extended a second time to full length, a frown crossing my muzzle a moment after. I faced forth, gaze falling to the counter but not fixing on anything in particular as thought took over.

Looking up, I reached across the sink, taking the blinds string in one hoof and pulling down to raise them. I squinted slightly as unfiltered light spilled into the room, the sky still brightening with noon a few short hours away. Beyond the open hall and above the adjacent building to ours, I took note of at least a dozen pegasi moving about above the base, all military personnel. Some gathered in groups with one in front of them all, hovering a hundred, perhaps two-hundred feet above the ground. Trainees, most likely, with the sole pony ahead of them an instructor, likely for a specialized flight class.

As learned from a couple of pilots on the Eclipse, physical flight orientation—involving one’s actual wings, assuming they are a pegasus—comes before the pony may step near their training jet. Like Wonderbolts, Navy pilots take a beating when it comes to flying, worse even. Then again, one side flew for performance and entertainment, the latter must also be concerned about combat if worse came to worst.

But, that was not what punctured my composure. It was the fact that not once in my life have I experienced the supposed joys of flying. It wasn’t just that flying did not speak to me like it does to most pegasi, despite being a contributing factor—all of the doubt and neglect to properly learn came from my father.

He, a war-hardened earth pony from Winneighapolis, and my quiet-yet-stern mother, a pegasus from Coltlumbus—my home town—never truly agreed, or even agreed-to-disagree over the topic of flying. My father, jolted from his time in the Army, held strong beliefs of flying, un-grounded ponies, as he referred to us, were unnatural and undeserving of rights in Equestria, which led him to set rules forbidding neither myself nor my mother from flying anywhere near him, even barely.

I am not too sure what she saw in him. Before I left she claimed that his personality and strictness had not been that way before my birth. While that could very well have been true, it continued to remind me of why I had decided to run off to Canterlot in the first place, or one of the reasons behind it. Among that, the cause of my grounding.

In the years since, flying had been the least of my concerns. It was not that I believed he may somehow find out and track me down just to beat my ass into oblivion because of his psychotic beliefs, it was more due to the fact of having other issues to be far more concerned about. Finding a place to live was definitely one of them, as well as income to avoid becoming homeless which, admittedly, almost happened two or three times.

Yet, with the past far behind, a part of me continued in mental protest to hold me back from getting into the skies one way or another. My mind raced with a million, possibly a billion different thoughts, all in one instance. What if you’re too heavy? What if your wings get tired? What if you pull a muscle from trying too hard? What if you lose balance and tumble into the river? What if you crash into somepony and kill them? What if you hurt yourself? It was nonstop.

But above all, one struck right at home.

What if you fail?

My hoof released the string, the blinds dropping to the small granite lip of the window sill and echoing a plastic crack! in the room, jolting me back into reality and snapping my wings tight to my sides. I huffed out a deep breath that held for too long, gripping my chest with the same hoof and easing my breathing pattern so as to avoid unprovoked hyperventilation.

Maybe my father did have good reason behind his morbid disapproval towards flying. Perhaps those reasons explained it. As it may be, he could have just been trying to protect my mother and I from harming ourselves. Flying was not for everypony, after all.

Sighing out to relax the tension in my muscles, I stepped away from the counter and toward the short corridor splitting the kitchen and the bedroom with the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I stopped, fixing on a thin paper object wedged between the entry door and the frame itself.

Blinking, I moved to the door and took the paper in my hoof, yanking it inside and looking it over carefully. It was a notice posted by the base commander, evidently sent out to all of the barracks, reading:

Important Notice

Base-wide inspections of barracks and dormitories at 1630 on the 18th of May, 2015.

What a waste of paper for a few short words, I thought to myself.

I grumbled, setting the notice down on the edge of the counter for Night to see when he comes back. “Inspections,” I snorted.

One would think that as long as we aren’t burning the place down and taking care of it, the higher-ups could care less about what we do in the dorms. Of course, in basic training, inspections then were truly awful.

Cleaning the barrack we slept in wasn’t nearly the hard part, it was maintaining our uniforms and standing in one spot for four hours while we waited for the drill instructor to drop by with two or three lieutenants or other officers looking to tear somepony—or all of us—a new one.

1630, that’s four-thirty. Eighteenth of May, that’s today’s date! Four-thirty this afternoon, granting me a bit of time to tidy up. Without Nightpath here to help, it was all me for the afternoon. At least, until he finishes with his shift. Perhaps then he could do his own little part just so I’m not left to handle the cleaning all by myself.

Bringing out the cleaning supplies beneath the sink, I started with the kitchen—washing the few dishes and silverware in the sink and putting them away in their respective areas, scrubbing the counter tops, mopping and later polishing the inch-sized square-tiled floor, and even wiping down every handle with disinfectant.

Apart from yellowing spots near the floor of the shower, and crusty toothpaste marks in the sink, the bathroom required little work. For what it was, it being the cleanest room in the place came off as a slight surprise. Not due to neglecting to pay attention to such—well, maybe just a bit... Either way, to not be stuck breaking my spine polishing each individual shower tile and pretty much every other object that isn’t the wall left me somewhat relieved.

But the feeling ended up short-lived the moment I opened the cabinet beneath the sink, where a horrid stench met my nostrils and forced my nose to crumple inward. Purely out of reflex of the smell, I bellowed a hack, covering my muzzle with a hoof as I resorted to mouth breathing.

Lowering back to the cabinet, my gaze fell upon little darkened specs across the near-empty wooden surface. It did not take long for the puzzle to complete, and without hesitation, I ripped a piece from a paper towel roll on the counter top and began scooping up the tiny droppings left behind from what I presumed to be a rat, or some other pesky rodent.

A tiny, yet painful nip prompted me to jerk my hoof back without the paper towel in it. Adrenaline momentarily surged in my veins the moment what felt to be tiny teeth began digging into my hoof. The littlest of red-turning marks showed where it had not previously been after taking thorough examination.

Grunting with frustration, my gaze briefly fixed on a pair of eyes reflecting off of light in the bathroom staring right back towards me, before disappearing in a scurry of tiny paws and two squeaks as the little shit disappeared through a small chewed-out hole in the rear of the cabinet and through the wall, exposing a vertical pipe partially.

Turning back down to the bite mark, I stood and quickly rinsed it beneath a running faucet, and taking a second peek over it. Nothing too deep, I determined, but still concerning nonetheless. I knew Manehattan was notorious for its pigeons, and its rats especially. That would not change the disgust I felt now knowing our apartment is occupied with one, possibly more, without a clue of what diseases they could be carrying.

Practically slamming shut the cabinet door, secretly hoping the bastard who bit me had stuck his or her head out for it to slam on its throat and end the problem temporarily—or worsen it, more likely, I walked out of the bathroom and around the corner. Our bedroom still needed quite the pick-up, especially Nightpath’s side of it. Upon closer inspection, crumbs strewn about the floor surrounding his bed, with some even on his bed beneath his twisted, untidy comforter. No wonder we had rats, he was their ringleader!

Scoffing and rolling my eyes with further annoyance, I briefly debated staying put to clean, or head to the medic’s ward to make sure I don’t contract rabies, settling on the latter for my sake. Here I hoped the place was not busy as I slipped on my work jacket and cover, before heading out the door.

19. Blackout

I sat patiently on the exam table, hooves pressed into the cushion by my side while my rears hang off the edge. With how much obnoxious noise the paper sheet stretching down the bed-shaped piece, I made remaining perfectly still a temporary mission. Not that it truly mattered, though.

The medical ward on base, as hoped, was not busy. Only two others sat in the waiting room, and have likely been taken by other nurses. The place acted like and even appeared on the outside similar to that of a small clinic. On the inside, however, was a whole new world. Like a small office, its staff took patients, but on a larger scale. It stood as one of the larger structures on base, standing only two stories high with a modern trim exterior, and enormous pane windows in almost every room.

While waiting, every few moments I would find myself checking the bite for anything new that may have popped up during the walk across base. Each time I expected the red circle surrounding the almost too-small-to-see teeth marks to have grown, or spread elsewhere on my hoof.

I hadn’t taken a moment to look up the symptoms of rabies or other rat-borne diseases online and instead rushed over here. Evidently the assistant who led me to the room I now sat in didn’t seem awfully concerned based on a quick glance, which turned out to be a slight relief, though word from a professional will be nice as well.

It wasn’t more than five minutes after taking a seat when the door opened, and in stepped a white-coated, shaven-maned unicorn in the Navy’s working uniform. Looped around his neck sat a stethoscope, and in his hoof he carried a tablet, tapping on the touch screen with his free hoof. A pair of black square-framed glasses sat in middle of his nose, and upon lifting his gaze, a smile crossed his lips.

“Good morning there, Star Shooter, my name is Doctor Davenport. What seems to be your ailment today?” he introduced, closing the door behind him after his assistant followed him in, carrying her own tablet and typing away on it.

I blinked, closely examining this stallion for a solid thirty seconds. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

Shrugging, he half nodded, half shook his head. “It depends. Do you believe we have met previously?”

I went silent in thought, pondering just where I’d seen him, before a bulb switched on in my head. “Oh, the Eclipse! Yes, that’s right, you argued with Petty Officer Anchorage after he had been shot.”

The unicorn’s brow raised, but then his eyes widened slightly. “Oh, him!” he rolled his eyes, grumbling incoherently as he slipped the buds in his ears and brought the instrument up through my jacket, pressing it to my chest gently. Damn, was it cold!

“He was a character. I hope he never winds up with another injury, for my sake,” he commented, shifting the stethoscope to another position on my chest. That brought a quiet giggle out of his assistant, and a smile out of me. “So, Star, what brings you in today?”

Lifting my hoof just slightly, I gestured to the little red mark on it. “Rat bite in my dorm bathroom while I was cleaning. Was about to pick up its droppings under the sink when it bit me.”

“Oooh, nasty,” he mused, running a hoof carefully across the mark, which changed into more of a bump. “Yeah, common reason for ponies dropping by. Behind heat exhaustion, broken and dislocated limbs, and training-related injuries, rat bites top the list. How soon ago did this happen?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes ago?” I responded. Perhaps not even that. I fast-walked the whole way here, so it may have been sooner.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, taking his tablet in a silver magical hold and tapping rather quickly on it. “Are you up to date on vaccinations?”

“My... vaccinations?” I blinked. “I cannot remember which ones I received in basic a year ago.”

“Measles and rubella, feather flu, polio, blue fever, penicillin,” he named them almost instantly after, the final one sending a chill up my spine and my body shuddered.

“Then yes, sir.”

“So you were some of the last few to not receive the new regulated vaccines, added to the list around August of last year. The rodent infestation issue on base prompted alterations to medical standards for new recruits, not necessarily enlisted or recruits before then,” the stallion explained, still tapping his hoof rapidly on the tablet.

I went silent in thought again, blinking twice. “In english, Doc?”

A grin crept its way onto Davenport’s muzzle, followed by a chuckle that he let off as he placed the thin square-shaped device down on the small counter in the room. “Means whether or not the rat that bit you is carrying anything, we must take precautionary measures and treat you for rabies. I am going to administer you a six-pack injection that should prevent any health deterioration.”

“A six-pack?” I asked, smiling innocently with a trace of anxiousness showing.

“Six individual injections, three in each arm,” his assistant answered, confirming my fears.

“Oh, all right,” I nodded once, smile vanishing in an instant. Great, shots. Six of them! Just like boot camp all over again.

“So,” he began, “I shall be right back. My lovely assistant will hang around a bit longer until I return. Sound good?”

I responded with a second nod, exhaling deeply but quietly. “Yes, sir.”

Snatching up his tablet in a glob of silver, the snow-white unicorn exited while his assistant opened a single-door cabinet above the counter, bringing down an opened box of rubber gloves, a white-capped bottle of transparent fluid, and some cotton balls.

I may have been just a bit jumpy as she lifted my sleeve and rubbed a moistened cotton ball along my upper arm, replicating this with my other arm as well with a new one. A moment after did I detect the unsettling scent of medical alcohol that tightened my stomach while I waited for the doctor’s inevitable return.

Just as the mare finished and dumped the used cotton balls in a small trash can beside the table, my blood ran cold when the door creaked open, and in stepped Davenport, grasping a plastic-wrapped cluster of six individual syringes and tearing the protective layer off with care using his magic.

On the inside, I could feel my stomach twisting into a knot, my fear of needles creeping through the outward composure I showed to the doctor and the mare accompanying him, observing the unicorn stretch plastic-latex gloves onto his hooves.

“All right, Star,” he said, raising the first of the inch-long needle syringes in a now-gloved hoof. “This goes against regulation to say, but, you may feel a slight tinge of pain after I inject the dosage for this one.”

Swallowing a lump blocking my throat, I nodded anxiously. “Okay.”

“Reason why I’m giving this one first is because it is the worst of them. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

Nodding, the unicorn moved closer, taking my left hoof and easing the needle ever so closer to the skin. I turned my head and closed my eyes tightly. The longer I didn’t stare, the better.

A grunt built in my chest but never fully escaped as the cold steel punctured the surface of my skin and dug in entirely. Gradually, the doctor pressed the handle inward. In my blood stream came a burning sensation that forced a sweat, steadily worsening even after pulling the needle out.

“Nngh, damn it,” I muttered, teeth clenching and body trembling gently.

“It’ll be over before you know it, Star. Needle’s already out,” he said, dropping the syringe in a plastic bin along the wall, labeled with the toxic symbol.

I let off a heavy breath as soon as the burning dissipated, and with my right hoof, wiping off a collection of sweat along my forehead. “I won’t be needing a booster for that in the future, will I, Doc?”

“On rare occasions do ponies need a second dosage. By rare, I mean, one or two per million ponies. So, I would say no. Now, you ready for round two?”

Deep down, no, I wasn’t. But, if it meant being immune to future rat attacks...

“More ready than I’ll ever be.”

***

In the minutes following the final vaccine's injection, a stinging, lingering pain persisted on either of my arms, stretching in a short line between the three spots. On the contrary, I will cordially take the day-lasting soreness a million times openly over the fiery misery moments after the first of the six shots.

The deep, slightly pulsating aching of muscles surrounding the injection sites left me in a rocking-motion limp to avoid too much pressure on my arms per step. It went unnoticed by others, much to my delight. Beneath rumbled my stomach in not hunger, but discontent, as a result I'd expected far sooner than now in the medical ward.

All sorts of irritation seemed to have it out on my body today, between tendering muscles, a sick-to-my-stomach feeling, and a second looming headache. Worse yet, I reminded myself simply how much of the dorm went neglected during the past twenty or so minutes. Above all else, the rodent vigilante remained on the loose. My mind raced through the endless possibilities of Sergeant Hardstaff discovering it on his own, his choice of words in his unavoidable lecture to Night and I for not handling the situation accordingly, or quickly enough.

Not even noon, and time flashing by to the end of the day and resignation to the comfort of my bed quickly became my greatest, sole desire. I hoped so desperately for dusk more than ever. Skip right past the cleaning, the inspection, my shift—ugh, my shift, I mentally grumbled—and let me just pass out right here, right now.

Then, as if my prayers had been answered, Nightpath strolled up on my right and matched my pace. "Hey," he said, evidently noticing my lowered head only a moment after. "Everything alright? What's with the way you're walking?"

Briefly darting my gaze to him, then forward, "A bit of a shitty day so far, Night," I responded, kicking a pebble a few paces in front of us. "Had to make a rather... unexpected trip to the doctor's office."

He blinked, looking down upon me with growing concern. "Panic attack?"

Bless this stallion's heart for recognizing the fragile state my mind rested in. I chuckled in chagrin. "Not that doctor, Night. We have rats in our dorm, and one bit me when I was cleaning out the bathroom cabinet."

"Rats?!" Night practically shouted out with surprise, a couple ponies glancing in our direction for a split second. "Since when?"

"Can't be sure, today was the first time I noticed." I imagine it was the first week after we moved in.

"Shit! What do we do? Have you called somepony?"

"With what? I don't have a phone, and neither do you," I reminded him coldly.

He faced forward as he walked, a frown clear on his muzzle. "Has to be something we can do. We can't just let them barge in without paying rent!"

I tossed a glance his way, blinking slowly. "Neither do we, genius."

"You know exactly what I mean," he replied with a scoff.

"Better yet, we have inspections this evening, and I'm not done cleaning. Not since it bit me, that is."

"Is that why you're walking funny?"

"In a way. Had to get some shots. Six of them, to be more precise."

Night shuddered at that. "Yeesh. I'm sorry, man."

"Yeah, what else is new?"

"Hey, guys!"

Here comes trouble.

A shadow dashed across the two of us as a white-coated, hooded jacket-wearing, saddlebag-carrying pegasus landed with a muffled thud on my other side, startling Night a bit. "What's up, Anchorage?" he asked.

"Only just got out of bed a few minutes ago," Anchorage said, chuckling afterward and scratching the back of his mane. "I could not move this morning."

"Hangover?" Night claimed, a smirk curving the side of his lips.

"Calling it that would be an understatement," the pegasus yawned out and smacked his lips twice. "Anyway, next couple'a days are all to me, thought I'd make a few runs into town. Y'all up for a game night?"

"Tonight?" I groaned lowly.

"Well, no, you look worse than I did in the mirror," he joked, patting my shoulder gently. I jolted, unbeknownst to either of them. "I was thinking on it, perhaps tomorrow night? I'll ask Ash when he quits moaning."

"That sounds good," I nodded, raising my head and glancing to him. "Where are you heading exactly?"

"Game shop, then the supermarket to get some snacks. Wanna come with?" he warmly smiled.

In truth of the moment—no, I did not. I so desperately craved the sweet release of death instead. Nah, I just wanted to lay down and sleep for a bit until the sergeant dropped by. Ultimately, we needed some groceries for our own fridge, and snacks did tickle my fancy right then and there.

Shifting over to Night before giving any sort of response, I looked up at him. He nodded with a firm look. "You go on ahead. I will clean while you are gone."

A feeble, languished smile broke. "Really?"

He nodded a second time. "Yeah, sure. My bed's a mess anyhow, and I'd hate to leave you hanging, roomie."

I returned the nod, retaining my moderately weary smile. "You're the greatest pony ever, Night. Thank you."

The brown draft stallion nickered with a smile, branching off as he headed for our dorm building, calling out suddenly as he did. "Oh, I'll see if I can find an exterminator, too!" before heading up the staircase.

After he'd gone from sight, Anchorage turned to me with a frown. "Is he really your favorite, Star?"

***

The walk to the market in central Bronclyn went uneventful, apart from the occasional short conversation between the two of us while we took in the morning-turning-afternoon sun. Some sort of spell, as it seemed, continued the warm, cloudless days coming. Perhaps the weather ponies were finally getting their shit together.

Through sliding doors we walked, straight into the enormous multi-purpose store that seemed larger on the inside! It was certainly bigger than the one I shopped at in Canterlot, that is for sure. And busier.

"All righty!" Anchorage said, plucking a folded piece of paper from his hoodie pocket and opening it up, scanning his icy-blue gaze across what he had written down on it. "So, snacks... what do you think? Chips, salsa, cheese dip?"

"Hey, it's your list, your party," I replied with a shrug, starting into the store and looping around the hectic registers, with Anchorage tailing after a moment of standing at the door. "I imagine it will prove superior to the one last night."

I took a small basket from a stack near the entrance, looping my hoof through the movable handles and looking around me as we strolled past aisle after aisle, shelves stocked to the ceiling with colorful arrays of products of any type, from house cleaning, to frozen foods, a bakery section, and even a small area devoted to toys where couple of foals stood. They were both looking up at the selection, eyes twinkling with awe and excitement, bringing a small chuckle out of me as I strolled by. Those were the good old days of being a colt.

"You know, Star, that reminds me," began Anchorage. "What was with the party last night, anyway?"

Turning to him, blinking, "What do you mean?" I asked.

"I dunno. Something just didn't settle right about that place, about that... guy."

"Armet Mace?"

"Was that his name? Must have missed it."

"You were drunk, after all."

"That's not the point," he suddenly halted in the empty aisle, facing me. "I've been thinking this morning. You know, that stallion... Armet, was it?" I nodded. "Well, I didn't catch all of what he said, but, it really peaked my attention when he mentioned super soldiers."

"Shadow, too," I added. "And Silver. He asked me what could possibly go wrong with it in the most statement-like question I have ever heard him say."

Anchorage nodded, a hardening look displaying across his face. "And he is right. Then he claimed that 'everypony will have access to the most high-tech of medical care'? There's got to be a catch somewhere in that sketchy statement, man."

I didn't respond, looking in either direction down the aisle we stood in to make sure no one was around to eavesdrop. “Anchor, is the supermarket really the best place to discuss this?” I whispered to him.

“I just need a distraction for a bit, y’know?” he took two steps closer. "Star, there is something not right with that stallion, I'm telling you. His approach just..." he exhaled sharply, turning and beginning to walk again. "All too iffy for me. And what about the Alder?"

One brow furrowed as I strolled by his side. "What about it?"

"Those griffons were not pirates."

"I am aware of that, but, thank you for your observation."

He tossed a brief glare as cold as the color of his eyes in my direction. "I know what I saw, and they had proper gear, like what we wore that night. Pirates would not have access to such equipment, nor would they care to detail their look to actually appear stealthy!"

"That's exactly what I thought. No way in Tartarus were those dudes pirates. More so, how would pirates get on board in a storm like that, anyways?"

"Precisely," he pointed his hoof at me, giving a grin of agreement. "Perhaps Griffonian Special Forces? Then again, I've yet to see them with darkened clothing. It might explain why they didn't kill us."

I shook my head, examining a rather colorful selection of coffee mugs as we moved past them and around a shelf corner. "But why would they rig the engine room with explosives out the ass?"

Anchorage tapped his hoof to his chin in silent thought. "Hmm, good point."

"I get exactly what you mean, though. They definitely were highly-trained individuals, there is no doubting that. There must be some reason we are overlooking that prompted them to want to destroy the ship and, evidently, everypony on it."

He turned to me with a bit of a smile. "Your perception is off the rails, man. You know that?"

I rolled my eyes and waved a hoof with a grin. "My mother always used to say how good of an eye I had."

"My question is, why did they not blow the charges when they had the chance? Why... wait?"

"One, they were still on board, we all know that. They would not have killed themselves in honor to destroy a blasted civilian ship. Two, which leads back to point one, they likely heard us coming and stood by to make sure we didn't sabotage their plans."

Anchorage stopped, blinking. "So, wait a minute, let me catch up. Are you saying what I think you're suggesting? That they knew we were on our way to rescue the crew?"

"Frankly, Anchor, it would not surprise me in the least. You and I both saw the gear they carried, who is to say they wouldn't be carrying some sort of transmitter to tap into secure communications networks? The Eclipse's are outdated, anyways. It's an enormous security risk."

His head cocked with moderate bewilderment. "That's a bit far fetched, don't ya think?"

I shook my head firmly. "You don't agree?"

"That just... well, I suppose it would put two and two together. There's a lot we can't answer," he tapped his chin again. "I am curious, though. Tonight, after we get back, I will see if I can find any information on the Alder, and maybe its payload. That could be what they were after."

"Oil is extremely flammable. I suppose placing charges near the engine room could possibly set off a chain reaction and destroy the ship."

"Unless they were hauling something else..." he lifted his now-widened gaze to meet my own, with mild concern showing in his eyes.

"But what?" I wondered. Maybe he was on to something...

***

The short journey back to base looped the two of us on to a further block, where Anchorage had discovered a brick-and-mortar hobby shop ahead of time. Much to his chagrin, the place had closed early due to an isolated power shortage in Bronclyn. For me, while coming across as a waste of our time, it only meant reaching home sooner.

What struck me as perplexing was it seemed as though ponies this far east of Canterlot have forgotten about candles and relied solely on electricity across the region. Businesses never closed their doors in the event of a temporary outage. Then again, I suppose, Canterlotians held tight to their traditional means as if they were going out of style—which, in truth, was the case.

So, with two bags of groceries fit neatly in his saddlebags, and just one balanced evenly on my back, we headed back as thick cloud clusters shifted in above the city, signaling an approaching front, and with it, much-needed rain. In spite of the looming grey curtain, the warm sun continued to beat its golden light across, shining off of buildings across the river in blinding reflections that forced Anchorage and I against the left side of the street so as to avoid losing our eyesight.

Following a brief ID card check, the guard occupying the gate checkpoint allowed us through a side door next to the enormous steel gate, where carriage shipments entered. This had been a change implemented in recent years, seeing how many more individuals came and went than wagons, and having to constantly open the door for just one or two ponies at a time became a nuisance, prompting those along the walls (the ones manning the main gate's controls inside a small control booth).

Some shouting occurred after we stepped hoof inside, minding to close the heavy door behind us. Neither Anchorage nor myself were able to make out what had been said, not that it seemed of any significance for the two of us. They hadn't been calling after us, or ordering us to halt.

Once at the barrack dormitories, we parted ways, heading to our respective buildings. Anchorage's was a bit further down the line, whilst mine and Nightpath's stood closest to the entrance. I drew a set of keys from my pocket, sorting through the four of them, and inserting the correct one into the lock of our dorm. Giving the key a twist, the lock retracted with an audible click, and I took the knob in my hoof, turning it and pushing inwards to walk inside.

Much to my shock, a wall of darkness stopped me part-way in through the door. Blinking, I scanned around the shadowed kitchen, only narrow slits of sun rays spilled in through closed blinds of a window above the sink, reflecting off of the refrigerator. That appeared to be the only source of light, even as I attempted to flick a switch and met with no response from the shield-shaped lights in the kitchen.

"Night?" I called out, setting the grocery bag down on the counter beside the door, leaving it open to shed at least some light in this place.

"Close the door, you're letting the cool air out!" he responded from in back, shuffling with what sounded to be his bed sheets.

I gently kicked my hind hoof, knocking the door back just enough to close under its own weight. It took a good few seconds to adjust to the dark, moving to the kitchen window and raising the blinds. It helped somewhat.

Light thumps turned into clops of hooves on tile as Night trotted into the kitchen. I looked up, furrowing an eyebrow at him. "What did you do?" I played.

He perked, eyes widening. "Nothing!" he came back, sounding offended. "Power went off when I was cleaning, I didn't do shit!"

"I'm messing with you, Night," I assured him as he sauntered up to the counter.

A frown worked its way across his muzzle as he peeked down into the paper bag. "That's it?"

"It's all I could afford." I let off a sigh that came off as one of stress.

"Just what are you buying that leaves you broke all the time, Star?" he questioned, raising his head from the bag and turning back toward the corridor.

"Not what I'm buying, what I'm paying for. I still have a place in Canterlot, you know," I answered, slipping out of my jacket and placing it on a hanger in the closet, hanging up my cover on a shelf above it.

"Why don't you move? No use in paying rent and utilities for an apartment in the capital, especially if you are there once a month if you're lucky!"

A momentary silence followed as I pondered my response. "I can't afford something in Manehattan, Night. I just can't. Neither can you, and neither can both of us combined. Sure, Canterlot isn't the most affordable city to settle down, but it's where I've lived for nearly six years."

"I didn't mean in Manehattan. You could live somewhere up the coast, like Alderneigh! Cheaper cost of living, with a plus of cutting the time of your train ride by, what, two-thirds? Three-quarters?"

"Alderneigh isn't the nicest city to live in. Not Detrot terrible, but it's steadily working its way there. That, and I hear the smog is unbearable."

"Does it top Los Pegasus' atmosphere?"

"Do I want to find out?"

"Good point. But, say there wasn't smog, would you?"

"I would prefer not to be shot in my own home, either."

"That's why you buy a gun!"

"With what money, Night? Hell, it might cost more just to move than it would be to stay put. The recruiter lied when he said that Marines were paid more than royal guards. Unless he was implying that they are paid fuck-all."

Night opened the fridge door, frowning a second time upon finding the light inside to be off. Though, thankfully, the cold remained, albeit draining per every moment he kept the door open, and he stuffed the refrigerated items in quickly. "That depends. I hear officers have a higher pay grade!"

"Well, that's just lovely, Night, but who got kicked out of that class last year and denied any future enrollment?" I snarkily replied.

"Touche. But, promotions come with raises, too, right?"

I snorted. "By what, one or two bits? Not to mention the wait isn't worth it. We'd still be first classes if it weren't for the attacks."

To merely bring them up brought paining reminders of that fateful day back to life. It took every ounce of my physical and emotional weight to quell the grieving inhibition as a result of mentioning the battles that lasted three days total, yet ongoing in my head.

"On that topic... when do you think our next promotion will be?" he posed.

"Hard to say. It won't be at the same time, that's for damn sure, and I pray it will not be due to another incident that we are thrown into, you know?"

"Yeah, ditto," was all he said, crumpling the bag into a wad and tossing it into the plastic bin in the kitchen. "But, going back to the power... what if they call off the inspections?"

"Depends. How long has it been off for?"

"Since..." he mused. "Not long after you left, actually."

"Well, if it isn't fixed before then, they might. It was off in town, too. Anchor wanted to stop by a little shop to look at games, but they were closed."

"That's a shame. At least we're not the only ones," he admitted, coming back into the bedroom.

I nodded. "Until we find out, and 'til it's time for my shift, there isn't much to do around here. Oh, Night, did you find anything about an exterminator?"

***

By five that evening, no word came regarding the status of the inspections, nor for the ongoing power shortage. Ponies on base remained busy like bees in spite of it. By six, things had begun to slow down. That time in between was spent napping, presuming no one would be coming to check our dorms in total darkness.

Seven-thirty came in a flash, prompting me up to head off to work. With a cheap battery-operated light, I bathed in just adequate enough brightness to not hurt myself by slipping and falling. Miraculously, the water remained somewhat warm for the duration of the shower, and after dressing in the bathroom afterward, I left Night behind to watch over the place until before dawn, when we would exchange occupancy of our dorm.

To my knowledge, the geology office wouldn't have been closed, seeing as most of the offices around base ran on hours of generator electricity, and perhaps the help of a few know-it-all unicorn electricians to create temporary solutions.

Though, as I entered the building, I stopped. With an eerie vibe creeping up my spine, I ventured cautiously further into the darkened halls with only a sense of direction and my wits to guide me. An unordinary silence left a slight echo of my hooves' gentle steps on a tiled floor as the only noise to be heard.

I don't know why I kept going. It made no sense to. Nopony was here, obviously. The generators must not have been working correctly—or, to save juice, they closed the place. That's what came across as peculiar: many vital offices occupied the building. So, why is no one here? I asked to myself.

After eventually adjusting just to where I can make out doorways and labels along the wall, I came to a halt at the geology office. The door remained slightly ajar, a sign that somepony might have been in there still, or neglected to close it fully on their way out.

What made me really freeze in my tracks was the fact that a set of keys remained in the lock slit within the handle. I blinked, narrowing in on the ring and plucking them out. They clinked against one another, stopping as I held and examined them in the flat of my hoof. One feature stood out most, that being a little ladybug keychain attached to the bunch. My eyes shot wide open.

These are Aphrodite's keys. She never leaves them anywhere. Never.

I jumped with a surge of adrenaline upon hearing a gentle pat of an object—plastic was my guess—smacking the thin-carpet floor within the room.

All sense in me demanded to leave, yet was drowned out by curiosity as I reached a hoof forward and gradually pushed the door inward. It let off the lightest of creaks, making me wince. My heart pounded as I took my first steps inside the pitch-black space.

I halted a few paces in, scanning about the empty console room. To my relief, nothing seemed out of place. None of the monitors had fallen over, nor the chairs. The mini-kitchen sat neat, with a thin trace of leftover coffee still in the pot. I allowed myself to ease off, breathing it all out.

"W-who's there?" came a weakened voice from across the room.

My blood ran cold. Absolutely freezing. The maroon of my eyes shrunk drastically, and out of instinct, I raced to the source, which sat in an open door leading into a tiny office partitioned off by frosted glass. Looking down, I wanted to gag.

"Aphrodite!" I yelped in shock, dipping to the mare's side as she lay in the door, uniform drenched red with her blood originating from a sizable laceration across her chest.

She raised her head, breathing heavily, shaking, but for the most part, she seemed... fine?

"W-what are you doing here, Lance Corporal?" wheezed the bun-maned mare.

"I came in for work! What are you doing here, Sergeant Major?" There was much panic in the tone of my voice.

"I-is it gone?" she gasped sharply, then weakly began to press herself upright.

Gently, I pressed her back down by her shoulders. "Don't move, you might aggravate the bleeding," I said hastily, beginning to look around frantically.

Aphrodite's hoof came up to my chest beneath my shoulder to grab my attention. "First aid's i-in my desk, s-second drawer on the right. No key."

Nodding and leaping up, I rushed into her office and looped around the right side of her desk. I practically threw the metallic drawer open, and between some small miscellaneous items sat a white and red box with a red cross in center.

Snatching it, I hurried back to her side and began digging through the contents of the little round-edged plastic box, bringing out some gauze pads, a roll of bandages, a bottle of medical alcohol, and several capped-off needles attached to tiny sac-like tube.

We had only learned so much about treating injuries in basic training. Alas, only the bandages and alcohol I was familiar with. I did not have a clue of what to do, where to begin, what not to use. I knew first and foremost that ceasing the bleeding of her wound was top priority, yet it seemed what little training received threw itself out the window.

"What the hell is all of this?!" I wailed, holding the multiple miniature syringes in my hooves. In the truth of it all, I have never seen these before in my life.

"M-morphine syrette, use it," she huffed out, coughing lightly twice.

"Where do I—?!" I froze, heart racing, shaking my head with confusion in the moment.

Without another word, she snatched one suddenly and plucked off the plastic needle guard, before jabbing it into the red-turning skin no more than a hair beside the open wound. She squeezed the sac gently, groaning quietly and closing her eyes gradually, teeth clenched. She kept breathing after all of that, much to my relief.

The liquid contents of the sac as it was squeezed administered itself until there was no more to inject. She held the syrette in a few moments longer, only to pluck it free of her skin and drop it on the floor beside her. Her breathing became notably lighter, which could have been a good or bad sign. It remained steady soon after, and without hesitation, I went along with covering the bloody gash from end to end with gauze pads and a layer of bandages on top of that, taping it down with medical adhesive.

Aphrodite grunted and winced the moment I pressed the gauze pads down, likely due to the burning sensation it would create against an open wound. Without stitches or some other tool provided to seal the laceration, there was not much I could do right then and there. While the bandages did shift a faint hue of red, they seemed to hold up, and the bleeding managed to somewhat stop miraculously.

With her breathing seemingly stabilized, she turned her head just slightly and opened her eyes, gaze meeting my own. She gave a look that mixed between a 'thank you' and 'what the fuck is wrong with you?' reaction. "You are telling me you haven't a clue of how to use morphine syrettes?"

Cheeks warming with embarrassment now, I shook my head slowly. "They only taught us how to patch wounds and nothing more."

"That is shameful," she commented, trying to ease herself up again. I moved to keep her down, only to be stopped by her hoof being thrown up. "I am fine, the pain is numbed... for now. That's what the morphine does, it tones down pain. Was used for amputations in the old days."

I nodded in understanding, beginning to place items back in the box. "I am sorry."

"Don't sweat it, Shooter. I'm thankful you came as soon as you did," she assured, sitting upright with another soft grunt.

"Yeah, I almost didn't," I replied with a tedious chuckle, but then dropped it when something came to mind. "Who attacked you?"

Aphrodite perked her ears a bit. "Who attacked me? A better question to ask is, what attacked me?"

I blinked, maw parted just. "Well, do you know? Or at least have an idea of who—what it was?"

She shook her head firmly. "I couldn't make anything out apart from its eye, which almost looked like it was... glowing. Was behind cracked glass, it looked like."

"What color was its eye?"

"Bright purple."

My blood ran cold again, and both eyes shot wide open. I blinked twice, remaining silent as it went over in my mind. No, it couldn't be... I thought.

Shaking my head, I looked at her, saying sternly.

"Sergeant Major, let's get you out of here."

20. Trials

Lifting Aphrodite carefully to her hooves and looping one of her arms around my neck, we began in tandem out of the office, carrying with us the medical pack, just in case. We moved steadily yet hastily through the shadowed corridor, toward the fading light of day beyond the door as the sun dipped below the west horizon.

My ears stood up to distant shattering glass behind us, a noise that startled the sergeant major pressed tight to my side. She trembled, not due to fear, but because of her gradually-weakening form. The bleeding did stop, however, she remained without much energy to even keep herself upright throughout the short and frankly somewhat harrowing trek from her office to the building's exit, where, as we'd come to find out, swarmed with what appeared to be armed Marines, sailors, and military police.

Upon emerging through a glass door, a Marine and a sailor—both respectively donning the altered uniforms of officers, as suggested by the black-and-white 'MP' sleeve on their left shoulders—rushed over. There, I exchanged Aphrodite into their hooves, where they brought her over to a vacant cot in the grass of the courtyard, surrounded by many more in tidy rows, with many more ponies occupying them and being treated for what appeared to be a variety of injuries. The scene was not unfamiliar in the slightest.

As soon as they laid the sergeant major down, and a medic hurried to examine her wound, the sailor officer immediately turned to me upon spotting patches of blood across my chest and hooves and cantered back as I came to a halt halfway between the setup and the building. "Sir, do you require medical attention?"

I blinked, looking down to examine myself briefly, just to make sure I hadn't received any injuries myself for what ever reason. I shook my head, responding with, "Her blood, not mine," and gesturing to Aphrodite, surrounded by not one, but three medics now.

Nodding, the sailor then proceeded to ask, "Did you see anything in there?"

Look me in the eye and say that again, slowly. "No, sir. Just what is going on? I know about the blackout, but..."

"The base is on lockdown until further notice. Active assailant with a knife is running rampant across the area. Six are dead, many more wounded," he answered, tone cool and collected.

I perked at that. Shit, I thought. "How did someone sneak past the gate and start stabbing ponies unnoticed?"

"The perpetrator is rumored to be a Marine, sir, and has had base access for some time now. I am afraid we cannot confirm anything at this point, other than he or she seems to be utilizing the windowless buildings for cover and attacks anypony it sees."

The sailor briefly looked around him, then back to make direct eye contact. "There are still some missing in a few of these offices, particularly the one you just came out of. Possibly hiding."

That raised a bit of bewilderment out of me. "Why hasn't anypony else gone in to find them?"

"It is not that simple, not without electricity nor everypony in the same place, therefore, no teams to search the buildings."

My lips curled into a shallow frown. I glanced back over my shoulder, directly at the door that led into total blackness. While doing so, I said, "Do you have a flashlight?"

"What?"

I snapped my head back, eyeballing the sailor. "Do you have a flashlight on you?"

His head cocked just slightly, but he nodded, plucking it from his belt and handing it over. "Wouldn't you rather reenter with the others?"

"Wouldn't hurt," I said, briefly flicking on the light and squinting as its blinding shine directed into my eyes, making me wince before turning it back off. "But I am not waiting if there are others still inside, possibly with a murderer strolling about. Somepony has to do it."

The sailor narrowed his eyes slightly, nodding again a moment later. "On any normal occasion would I stop you from acting as such."

"Good stallion." I returned the nod. "Take care of the sergeant major until I am out."

That was the last thing I said before venturing back into the building, regretting my newly-made decision every step of the way.

***

It was not until halfway down the corridor when I finally pressed the button on the flashlight to turn it on, shining a white circular beam many tens of feet ahead. This was certainly one of the stronger lights I have seen or used, seeing how much brighter the hall became leading up to a wall, where it came to an off-center intersection.

Coming to a stop at the end of the corridor, I glanced around either corner, reflecting the beam off of two emergency exits. Neither of the signs above them illuminated in red like usual, a sign of no generator electricity flowing into the building which, in all reality, would have the entire place up and running again.

I resumed around one corner, then once more to the left, where the hall continued on for quite a distance. One thing about these military offices, they were constructed to become lost too easily. Though, with usually only one or two halls stretching the length of the building, one would eventually come across an exit that wouldn't set off an alarm as a result.

My hoofsteps on tile, drowned out the pulse of a heavy heartbeat pounding in my ears, were the only noise to be heard while strolling through the hall. Flashing the light in one hoof between walls on either side of me led to discovering most of the doors to individual offices to have been opened, likely left behind when most vacated the building. Even in an emergency, that can very well lead to an offense of regulations due to security concerns.

Though, upon closer examination, I found quite a few of these doors to have dents or their locks completely ripped from sockets, as if caused by brute force. I even stopped to take a peek inside, honing in on a knob completely intact to the lock, and even small parts of the door itself that lay on the floor, far across the room where it likely landed after being kicked in. What got my adrenaline going was realizing what these doors were made of.

They weren't your average wooden doors with basic key locks. No, they were similar to those from a hotel, but with actual keyholes replacing card scanning slots. These were heavy duty mechanisms designed specifically to prevent forced entry in the event of a shooting situation with bulletproof doors made of a lighter yet sturdy steel plating to shield those inside.

It raised questions as to who—or what—might have caused this. No normal pony could, that is for damn sure. A unicorn, perhaps, but that would require disabling a safeguard spell prevalent around base that counteracted excessive and hazardous magic use. Some places, like the Equestria Games, used such, except stronger and on a larger scale to where no magic whatsoever could be used within the stadium. Many wide open spaces shared this technology that continued with or without power. So, that led me back to square one. Who could have done this?

I froze dead in my tracks, ears standing straight on my skull to the echoing click of a door closing as gently and quietly as can be. It came across a glass walkway connecting a three-story building to this one further ahead. Faint light combated the dark in that little corridor, providing me a spot to breathe before crossing over into the next building.

Pushing through twin steel doors, I once more came to a halt as my eyes fell upon white glow shining across the floor part of the lower wall opposite in a narrow rectangular shape, emanating through the window of a door leading into... something. It was the only unnatural light around, so that room at least had some type of power. Perhaps that is where the unaccounted for ponies were.

With caution I moved closer, silencing my steps to an extent while crossing another hallway intersection and two doors down between myself and the light source. Only briefly did I freeze when the light flickered a couple of times, signaling likely a lack of energy, a strange surge, or a faulty bulb.

I brought myself against the wall stealthily, inches from the door's frame, having turned off the flashlight but keeping it within a tightened hold, just in case. My arm stretched across the length of the door to the handle, taking the tip of it with my hoof and turning downward, ear swiveling to the gentle click of the latch sliding free of the slot and carefully pushing inward.

As soon as a sizable beam shone between the frame and the door's edge, I threw myself into the doorway, swinging the door wide open. Only a moment's notice I had to duck as a shot fired off, the bullet whisking the space where my head had just been and embedding into the wall across the corridor.

"What the fuck?! Same side!" I blurted out, standing back up with a glare.

One pony snatched the pistol from the other's hooves, tossing him a look as well, before turning to me. "That's some good news. They ain't forgotten us yet," said the torino stallion. "Who sent you?"

"Myself," I answered rather frankly, entering the room, the stallion cocking his head. "Is anypony hurt?"

No one responded as the five of them made space as I looped around a counter. I lowered my gaze, throat tightening as I saw it. A pool of red surrounded the motionless body of a unicorn Marine, coat a couple shades darker than my own. Blood still oozed through substantial slashes across his chest and neck, likely where he had bled out within minutes, or even seconds.

My stomach twisted into many knots, words trapped beneath the blockage in my own throat. Some of the ponies around the corpse had blood stained on their hooves and splattered disgustingly on their clothes. Number seven, I mouthed, unnoticeable to the five.

"Was he like that when you found him, or...?"

"He was a couple halls down, still kickin' when we dragged him in here, away from that... thing," grunted the country-accented, rust-coated pegasus. "By the time we set him down, he was gone."

"Did you happen to see who or what it was?" I glanced up from the body.

"Little ol' Quickhooves over here saw 'im, he said," the pegasus replied, motioning his head to the same pony who nearly popped my head off coming through the door.

I narrowed in on the younger-looking pony, initially scowling, but easing off a moment after. The private still trembled with fear. "H-he was big, bigger than a-all of us. Wasn't a-a unicorn, or a pegasus f-from what I s-saw. A-all black, with a bit of grey," he sputtered.

"So it was a pony?" I questioned. The young stallion nodded shakily.

"Just who are you precisely? Not a detective, that's for sure," queried the magenta earth pony to his right, the one who snatched his gun.

"Nopony special. I like to know things before making assumptions, and if all of what I have gathered serves me correct, then—"

Not one of us in that room jumped at the startling noise of glass shattering outside the door. What came to be more terrifying was realizing how close it was. No more than a few meters the other way. Could it have been the walkway? Maybe somepony broke through it?

Only one way to find out. Turning slowly, I made my way back to the door, twisting a dial to dim the lights in the room nearly to the point where they gave off no light at all. I stopped at the door and pulled down on the knob, cracking it just enough to stick my head out into the hall which, come to think of it now, wasn't the brightest idea of mine since venturing into an enemy-infested city with only a few others as backup.

Pulling my head back in, I glanced over my shoulder to the others, whispering just enough for them to hear. "Stay put, and don't make a sound."

They nodded without hesitation. Easy enough for them, I thought. None of them protested me leaving already, even after opening the door and exposing myself fully to the wide open hall. Damn it, why didn't I ask for that gun beforehand?

It seemed as if a cold breeze blew through the hall, which sent a nerve wracking chill running up my spine. I scanned in one direction, the hall which I came from to get here. Some reluctance kept me staring in that direction long enough to where I forced myself to snap my head opposite, and there, I felt my blood run cold and heart skip a beat... or two.

A single light-violet pupil, seemingly glowing in the distant shadows, stared right back. The exact same as the sergeant major had described. Not once did it blink, nor dart away, or disappear.

Gradually, I turned my whole body to face the eye. Sweat slicked my brow and beaded up on the back of my neck, down my collar. As if my stomach could not possibly grow tighter, it did.

Yet, I couldn't halt the name from leaving my maw.

"Arc."

My heart pounded in my ears, tuning out what little noise there was.

"Why are you doing this?"

A shock jolted my whole form when the eye vanished. My maw remained parted just, breathing steady yet short. A wave of fear swept across as the eye reappeared, closer than before and inches beyond the threshold of the room's faint light. He was right there.

The words just kept on rolling off my tongue. "I'm not sure if this is some sort of sick joke, which if it is, it is far from hilarious, Arc. Whether or not whatever this is, I trust you wouldn't harm me."

This time, he didn't move, continuously staring, as if waiting for me to finish. I was almost to terrified to, considering in my mind what may happen if I do.

I clenched my teeth in fear. "I know who you are, and you know who I am. I know you know me."

His eye blinked, only momentarily, still not moving. It was a sign of something. I wasn't sure what of, though.

"I know this isn't you. You aren't a cold-blooded killer away from the battlefield. Whatever this is, it needs to cease immediately. You are murdering innocent ponies—your brothers and sisters—and what for? What have they done to deserve this?"

I went silent as I scrambled for something else to say. Repeating myself surely would not make an impact, especially if the first time around did not. I began to nervously sweat some more after not coming up with something five seconds later.

His eye blinked a second time, and while his steps were quiet, they managed to be heard above the intense beat of a heart in my ears. My body locked up and muscles tensed as he approached, the dull light from a second door leading into the room only faintly reflecting off of a pair of night-black shades he wore. The only difference with them was the side above his left eye had cracked and chipped away, revealing his one eye. That explained that a bit.

With his form now visible, I proceeded to take a couple of steps backward—two too many if you ask me. I recoiled backwards without further moving my hooves, as if they had been glued down. He only came closer, a sliver of shiny surface from that of a stainless-steel combat knife visible in a small pocket built just for it above one of his gloves, between the handle and the sheathe. In my throat, I swallowed a lump, only for a larger one to take its place.

Except, he didn't attack. He simply strolled by my side, his cold and frightening gaze unwavering as he did. But, he stopped, looping back around from the other side, circling me like a hungry shark and a shipwreck survivor.

"Quit with the killing, Arc. Let me go, let all of these ponies go. This is far from right."

He stopped no more than a few feet directly in front of me, closer than where he previously stood. Our eyes locked. In his, I could see... well, I couldn't be sure what exactly I saw. What ever it was, did not look all that appealing. It wasn't normal, I knew that much. The blood lust of a killer on an unrelenting spree with no intention of stopping now, no, not because of me. So, why hasn't he killed me yet?

I went silent again, at a loss for words. I swallowed again, breaths shallow through my nostrils and body quivering all over. For as much as I should have been able to fend off fear, now certainly was not one of those times.

Like before, however, Arc walked past without a word, making it a few feet behind me prior to these words spilling out.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

He froze, head snapping sideways back toward me. I tensed, cursing mentally at myself. This was it, I thought.

With one hoof, he withdrew the blade from its holster and whipped around, tossing it in my direction. The knife, with its swirling force, hooked into the left of my uniform collar and yanked me a few feet back, before the blade dug into the wall between doors with me hanging with my back against it, hooves inches above the floor. My eyes shot wide open with utter shock, and for the few moments after, no physical reaction came out of me other than a terrified look and my jaw partially dropped.

No more than a centimeter from the skin of my neck did the knife slice through the wall, having impaled my clothes instead, thankfully, but still leaving me helpless as I grasped the handle and began relentlessly tugging in an attempt to fall free, only to come to no result. The blade locked itself in the concrete good. My only other mode of escape would be to unbutton the jacket and slip out, and while that did come to mind, the immense hesitation so as to avoid possibly angering Arc further took over.

He didn't go for the knife, nor really me for that matter, and continued the other way—this was my chance. As fast as my hooves could move, one by one, the buttons of my jacket came undone and I dropped to the floor, hooves slipping free of the sleeves. I hit the tile with a thump and a grunt, grabbing his attention again.

Gasping, my heart racing and adrenaline kicking off now, I scrambled to regain my hoofing, but could not due to the polished tile and merely how quickly my hooves had moved that they simply could not gain traction. Without much else I could do, wings having snapped shut to my sides, I began crawling away, dragging my limp legs behind as I rolled over onto my back, pressed upright, kicking out of a panic.

Ripping the knife from the wall, dropping little bits across the floor beneath it along with my jacket, Arc began coming closer, raising his hoof and the bloodied blade in its grasp. He matched his pace with that of my frantic crawling, before I stopped, giving up at last.

"A-Arc, come on, man. You know me, I'm Star! Don't deny it! I'm Shadow's friend, too!"

He paused, blinking once down at me. My chest heaved with breath after breath, eyes wide with fear.

His hoof suddenly thrust downward, the knife along with it. I immediately threw up both hooves to shield myself, head turning to the side. From out of nowhere bellowed an agonizing cry. It wouldn't come to me as being a scream of my own for a few minutes. It sounded unlike any noise I have made in the past. I almost expected the pain of his knife digging deep through my hooves, or missing entirely and going right for my throat or chest. But, that pain never occurred.

Blinking my eyes open, I snapped to my left, freezing as my muzzle came within an inch of his knife, half impaled through the tile beside my head. Looking straight up, I saw the stallion wincing to the brightness of the flashlight that I'd evidently switched on in the panic and showered him with a blinding beam that forced him off of his hinds' and backwards, losing balance.

"Agh, cut that shit out, Lance Corporal!" Arc grunted, shielding his eyes with a hoof. Evidently his shades weren't that useful after all.

My eyes widened and ears stood straight up, looking down at the stallion. I sat upright, still holding the flashlight beam aimed at him. Was that it? Was the flashlight all I needed?

"Arc?"

I flicked a switch on the light, dimming it just a tad. The lights from the room where the other Marines hid brightened as well, shining into the hall. Looking over to the door, I noticed a couple of them staring through the window with shock.

The second lieutenant lowered his hoof, shaking off his glasses and dropping them to the floor, where they landed with a crack. Bits more of the lenses chipped off upon impact. He blinked right down at them, visibly in his own shock.

I glanced over to his knife, still impaled within the tile with cracks sourcing around the impact site, refraining from handing it back in case this was all a trick.

"What have I—"

Both doors threw open, and those previously hiding in the room rushed out, pinning Arc to the floor. The magenta-coated stallion drew his pistol, pointing it to Arc's head but maintaining discipline with the trigger. "Stay the fuck down!" he ordered, with Arc complying, face down on the floor voluntarily.

More lights shone into the hall as a collection of military police officer response teams surrounded from either direction. One officer from the unit approaching from behind pulled me up to all fours. He asked if I had been hurt. I didn't think I was. Though, two times did Arc nearly end me with a single blow to the throat, of which some soon realized upon discovering his knife, and the new slit in my jacket that now rendered it out of regulation, meaning I could no longer wear it for work, even if I managed to have it stitched back up.

The officers cuffed Arc, bringing him up to his hooves. He did not resist, and for once throughout the ordeal, he followed orders to the word. He almost seemed like a completely different stallion, the one I knew.

***

Those days after the incident were far from easy. It was not until after 0500 the following morning when power restored to the base, and much of the city for that matter.

That night I stood along the balcony corridor of our dorm building, watching, shaken as night fell like a blanket over the city. Much of the skyline failed to glimmer with artificial light, including GenTech Tower's high-intensity beacon placed atop one of its spire antennas. Not even the moon shone down, as the sky blanketed with thick clouds. Any overcast night in Manehattan typically included the clouds tinting a dark orange or gold of the city's lights echoing off of them. Tonight, for the first time in my time here, that was not the case.

For the hours after sunset I stood leaned against the railing, overlooking what view there was of the base as showers fell, occasionally in sheets as well. It drenched the small designated zones for the injured, and strong gusts later prompted the transfer of victims indoors, specifically to the half-operating urgent care on base. Some—specifically those with more threatening wounds, Aphrodite included—were transported via ambulance carriage to a nearby medical center not affected by the blackout.

Every so often Nightpath would emerge from our dorm to check on me, and even at one point sneaked off-base to grab some hot beverages, namely coffee or hot chocolate, and some late dinner. He hadn't slept like he normally would throughout the afternoon going into evening. By this time he would be leaving to begin his shift. Not this evening. Although Arc Nobis had been apprehended, the base-wide lockdown did not officially lift until midnight, at least three and a half hours following his capture.

With a piping hot paper cup of coffee from a nearby cafe in one hoof, I nonchalantly sipped every few seconds. Regardless of caffeine, sleep was far from my mind at the moment, and the hundreds before and after. Perhaps it was one of those nights where I would escape drowsiness altogether. Between Night and I, the feelings were mutual. At one point he even emerged to keep me company while I sulked and tried to process everything at once.

It made me more thankful than ever to have him around.

By the end of that week, a trial had been established for Arc Nobis.

***

The Bronclyn Courthouse, otherwise nicknamed 'Manehattan's Justice Dome', filled with hundreds upon hundreds of ponies. The masses consisted primarily of Marines and sailors, among loved ones of those wounded or killed throughout the event.

Media outlets from all across Equestria even showed up to cover the trial, setting up shop on the front steps leading up to the entrances, and inside on some private balconies designated specifically for the press to sit and observe, as well as spots for television cameras to be positioned. It gathered national attention. Possibly global, as well. Even Princess Luna herself was even on her way in from a trip cut short to the Crystal Empire.

Most of the witnesses showed up, myself included. Others remained home to watch it on television, or still were in the hospital after being cut vigorously. However, due to the circumstances of the incident, it had been predetermined that no defense shall be assigned to the first lieutenant's side.

The courtroom itself was circular, topped off with a magnificent dome of granite and stone art-deco design. Individual beams of sunlight shone in through narrow windows that stretched up the dome, and this itself kept the room decently lit without the need for lamps as in some other cities.

Around the room stretched polished wooden stands, sitting at about the same level as the judge's podium in dead center, which overlooked the lower benches, and the table which where the accused seated himself. In spite of it all, he donned his finest uniform without failing to proudly display a respectable rack across his left chest.

Yet, as ponies took their seats, any respect for the stallion had disappeared. No one saluted him even as he made his way into the building. On most occasions, neglecting to salute a superior officer would lead to a lecture of contempt and, quite possibly, demotion or discharge. Harsh punishment, but it made sense. Alas, by many it went dismissed.

Ten minutes before the trial was set to commence, a dark-grey pegasus, eyes of pure gold, and armor of night-blue with traces of purple and an emblem of Luna's moon on his breastplate entered through twin towering doors leading into the room.

"All rise for Princess Luna of Equestria!" he addressed, stepping off to the side as two more guards donning armor similar to his strolled down the aisle.

Every pony in the room—Arc included, and even the judge—rose and bowed in a wave as the lunar diarch made her way down the aisle, tailed by two more of her guards.

Unlike the city guards back in Canterlot, these ponies looked nothing alike. One stallion had a dark-cyan coat, another was pure white with a red mane and tail. Returning to the first guard, appearing to be a captain in rank, his mane and tail consisted of two tones of purple that blended almost impeccably with the grey of his coat. He specifically appeared familiar out of the bunch. Again, none of them donned similarities between one another.

"Thank you, everypony. Please, have a seat," Luna said as she too came to a rest in her own chair, a level beneath the judge's on the podium, with the grey pegasus standing behind her in careful watch, while the rest stood in a perfect square on each corner of the wooden construct.

The collective rustling of ponies big and small sitting down echoed throughout the hall. All eyes fixed on to the princess, the judge, and the accused.

"Before we begin, I must assure the jury that, in light of this tragedy, not everypony is required to sit throughout this hearing," the mare atop the judge's podium addressed. After a silence, only two ponies stood up and left. Both were among the crowds.

With a sigh, she began.

"Second Lieutenant Arc Nobis, Lunar Marine Corps, as according to Equestrian law, it is my obligation to say you are granted defense. However, in this case, your defendant has no power over the jury's decision."

"Your honor, do excuse my interruption," Luna spoke up. "We do have one question."

"By all means, your highness," the judge responded, granting the princess free reign for her query.

Clearing her throat, Princess Luna resumed. "If thine decision is fixed, what need is there for a judicial ruling over this stallion?"

"Your highness, although punishment is definite, it is still required of us by law—requirements implemented by your elder sister, Princess Celestia—to hold a trial in the event of last-minute verdict. Because there is simply too much evidence against the defendant to not be held against him, punishment, I am afraid, is inevitable," the judge explained.

Nodding in understanding, the alicorn of the night faced forth. "Understood, your honor. Carry on."

I looked down at the table where Arc sat, watching him observe the two mares sit above him. The judge continued, and eventually moved on to bringing the witnesses and victims down to speak their story of the incident. None truly went in the second lieutenant's favor. By each passing minute, I don't believe there wasn't a pony in the room who did not know ahead of time of what was coming for him.

Author's Note

We have officially reached the halfway point of Eye of the Storm, at long last!

21. Summer's Peak

"He... he brought the knife up, Corporal Summer leaped over me to shield me. I closed my eyes before he even did, and after I felt the pressure of his body land on top of me, I heard this... bloodcurdling scream, and the sound of tearing flesh. I look up, Corporal Summer is pale and trembling. He tenses up, and Arc Nobis rips the knife from his back and leaves without noticing me underneath him."

Beside the pegasus mare—a sailor named Cloudy Skies—sat the second lieutenant, chin lowered and hoof rubbing along his forehead. His eyes shadowed beneath his jet-black mane, and not once could they been seen over the span of the past two hours of the trial.

"I wait before moving so he doesn't realize I was there too, and... I go to tend to Corporal Summer's wounds, but I was too late. In the minute after Arc's knife drew from his back, he had suffered internal bleeding and failure of numerous organs, according to the autopsy. There would not have been enough time to find him a medic or treat the injury personally."

Cloudy closed her eyes, nose trembling as she sniffled sharply, wiping a rolling tear clean of her cheek and dabbing both eyes with a crumpled tissue she held for Celestia knows how long. The mood swept like a tsunami across the crowds, with many taking these moments of temporary silence to mourn the lost.

Seven was the initial count, before all of it came to an end. Two more—not including the one with those I came across—were discovered, apparently having been huddled together fearfully prior to being attacked. The next day is when five more passed on under intense medical care. Their wounds were simply too substantial that not even unicorn magic could save them.

Straightening her back as she lowered her hoof, the judge nodded down to the somber mare. "Thank you, Petty Officer. You may return to your seat."

Clearing her throat softly, the middle-aged mare atop her wooden podium lifted her gaze, scanning around her as she then spoke aloud.

"What we hear this afternoon from these brave souls having to endure such a harrowing situation, it simply serves as a reminder that justice shall not go ignored by many. As a mare so... inseparable... so devoted to the law, for years I have bore witness to many of the preposterous, ludicrous cases, right here," she remarked, gesturing her hoof by pressing it into the solid wood surface.

"Never in my two-and-a-half decade-long career, not once, have I witnessed such grief, such sorrow, such... anger expressed in my courtroom, nor have I ever been forced to settle with the certainty of prosecution without any means of defending his or herself. On most occasion do I refrain from sharing personal feelings toward the guilty, but this..."

The cold of her eyes found itself fixed on Arc, unmoved by her sudden glance in his direction while he sat at his respective table beside an officer of the military police.

"You, Arc Nobis, you are a true monster of a pony. Not the type to beat on their partners, kidnap or murder innocent colts and fillies, no. You are a new type of monster. You have mercilessly slaughtered fifteen mares and stallions, should I add, brothers and sisters of yours, and severely wounded countless others. Should you be ordered to be executed, consider yourself lucky, Second Lieutenant."

The weight of the judge's words to Arc struck everypony equally. A few whispers here and there sparked between a few ponies around the foyer. Everypony knew execution, in modern times, was frowned upon, especially by Princess Celestia. On the rarest of occasions did the penalty reemerge, if the crime was that diabolical.

"Now, may the next witness step forth?" she added. At this point, there were simply too many to keep track of, and most of them beforehand determined their turns to speak. Nearly the entire lower seating section filled with witnesses, and even a couple of victims lucky enough to have avoided serious injury.

I let off a deep sigh, keeping it quiet so as to not disturb anypony around me. Standing silently, I squeezed between a narrow aisle between a lower row and the one I sat on, muttering a few 'excuse me's until I reached the stairs.

***

Bringing cupped hooves of water to gently splash my face and inhaling sharply, I took a paper towel from the bathroom dispenser above the sink between mirrors, patting down my face to dry it, before crumpling the towel in my hooves.

Hours went by like years, it seemed. No recess had yet been called, even though the trial itself began nearly five hours ago. Even then, there were still quite a lot of ponies left unsung in the lower crowd.

I stood alone in the courthouse washroom, in desperate need of a breather. My back was beginning to ache from sitting almost statue-like in a horrible, squeezing position, anyway. It felt good to spread out at last and not have to constantly shrug. Too many ponies plus a room not constructed to accommodate all of them at once equals frustrating discomfort. Note for future reference, don't ever voluntarily attend widely-publicized court hearings again.

The door creaked, reverberating off of the granite-tiled walls, compelling my ear to swivel and twitch as a rather familiar pair of hooves sauntered in.

"You doing okay, Corporal?"

The stare I locked myself into with the mirror broke, now confronting a denim pegasus standing a few paces down the counter, the latchless door gently swinging into place behind him. Like myself, he displayed his dress uniform, with the exception of three white arrow-shaped bars and crossing rifles beneath them representing the insignia of a Marine sergeant—as compared to mine, with one bar.

I shifted to face the sergeant, spine stiffening a little. "As well as I can on three hours of sleep and two whole cups of coffee, sir."

Hardstaff took a few steps closer, coming virtually face to face, but keeping just beyond my personal space's boundary. His expression remained calm and posture collected. "So as you are not doing anything stupid on my watch, that is fine with me."

I nodded, ripping a second towel to dry my hooves. "Is there anything you need, Sergeant?"

His head shook gently, eyes darting to the mirror off to his right. "Saw you get up and leave so quickly, wanted to make sure everything was all right."

"I appreciate the concern, sir. I am fine for the time being. Just been a long week."

"The feelings are mutual, Shooter. Speaking of which, Corporal, how does that title sound?"

I shrugged my shoulders, the bones and muscles in them briefly aching from having been locked like that for the last few hours as I dropped the ball of brown paper through a curved hole in the counter, where a trashcan sat beneath. I didn't quite understand his mistake after the second time it came around.

"One can dream of it, sir, especially somepony like me."

"It's yours."

My gaze snapped to meet his, ears perking. "What?"

"The missing ponies you found and saved spilled the beans. Your acts of courage on that evening, facing the second lieutenant and what ever it was that came over him have prompted myself, Sergeant Major Aphrodite, and Lieutenant Snow Storm, most of all, to vote on your promotion."

"But, on top of that..." he dug into a pocket and produced a nameless yellow envelope, holding it out. "The news when it reached the Commandant of the Marines prompted him to mail out a bonus check with your name on it."

I blinked. Most if told this would be hopping around in circles internally and screaming for joy. Me? Not so much. While I knew very well that I could pressingly use the money, there was no true way of accepting it. Sighing out, "I don't deserve it," I flat out said.

Hardstaff's eyes grew slightly with a hint of bewilderment, lowering his hoof. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't believe I am worthy of reward over all of this, Sergeant. I simply acted on my own that night, and truth be told, I almost didn't try and talk him down. I almost ran away screaming for my life."

"The important part, is that you didn't. That is what is so significant about your story. I am not too sure how educated you are of it from boot camp, Shooter, but promotions are earned strictly by the ponies who deserve them. They are earned through dedication and service to their Marine Corps, to their Navy, Army—whichever. What you did surpasses that devotion, and because of you, a few more ponies are alive to see tomorrow. You have not served a year, and your record already stands as one of the most impressive I have ever seen in my career, especially for present rank."

I gave him an earnest glance. "The speech is inspiring, sir, it really is. However, that does not change my stance on—"

"Just accept it," he insisted sternly, eyes narrowing. "Your promotion was earned, period. Nothing you say can or will revise that."

I stopped, tensing. After a brief moment of silence, contemplating my response, I settled with letting it go. "Yes, sir."

The nod came back. He stepped forth, slapping the envelope against my chest. As his last words, the sergeant added, "Your new patches shall be fitted later on today. Starting tomorrow, your current uniform is out of regulation. I expect a corporal tomorrow, Shooter."

Without a further word, he turned tail and headed back out, leaving me standing in place for some time with my gaze lowering to the floor. I breathed in deeply, letting it off to fully relax myself, shifting over to the mirror beside me, then down to the taped sleeve grasped in my hoof.

***

The looks of many turned weary by the time I returned, at least ten minutes after initially standing up. I squeezed back through and took my seat where it had been left, right as another witness finished their story.

Shuffling between some papers in an untidy yet isolated pile in front of her, the judge cleared her throat, reading over a few paragraphs rather quickly.

"It is to my understanding that one witness is present within the room, a rather important one, but is not intent on speaking this afternoon. I shall respect that decision for the sake of time, and move along with our conclusion," she finished off coldly, a glance tossed down.

"For multiple accounts of murder, ponyslaughter, as well as assault with a knife, and battery—fifty-four total—"

While she addressed the room, the doors a thousand feet in front of her leading inside burst open. A younger-looking stallion, carrying what appeared to be multiple closed folders held tight against his chest, each visibly stacked with paperwork inside.

"Hold the phone, your honor! This is something you must see at once!" he declared, galloping down the aisle to the bench.

The judge rolled her eyes. "Late as usual, are we, Inkwell?"

"My sincerest apologies," panted the rust-brass unicorn, coming to a skidding halt feet before the judge. "I believe this may serve as useful at this very moment."

A silver aura engulfed both files, lifting them to the bar and dropping with a gentle smack, where the mare then began by opening the top folder first, placing a pair of small reading glasses on the tip of her nose. Her eyes grew upon seeing just how much there was to read. Not all of it could be glanced over, of course, though the first few papers would suffice, it seemed.

Minutes of dead quiet followed while she studied the paperwork, apart from a few meager whispers between those in the stands. By each passing second, a strong look of shock grew on her face, raising question among ponies. After this time, she glanced back down at the unicorn and firmly nodded.

"Thank you, Inkwell, for delivering these reports and bringing this to my attention."

"Happy to oblige, your honor," the stallion dipped his head and stepped back, taking an empty seat in the lower sections near the back.

Lifting one piece of paper from the folder to briefly go over it one last time, she once more cleared her throat.

"In this sudden revelation, the court has a change of ruling! Second Lieutenant Arc Nobis, as a result of his rather impressive combat record prior to this... unfortunate incident, has been ruled out of the highest possible offense and punishment."

Many around the room gasped, and chatter began. The judge raised her gavel, beginning to bang it onto a wooden block to regain order and continue. However, the echoing clamor failed to cease the crowds.

"SILENCE!"

The courtroom went dead quiet. A pin dropping could have been compared to that of a gunshot in this new atmosphere. Terrified, widened eyes of each individual present now honed on to Princess Luna as she lowered herself, clearing her throat and taking a sip of a glass of water before her.

"Th-thank you, your highness," the judge shakily nodded, holding a hoof beside her small reading glasses to adjust them while she resumed.

"Arc Nobis, due to your duty, sacrifice, as well as medical records that very clearly state diagnoses of post-traumatic stress and dissociative identity disorder, among other less-significant disorders, the court has decided that your service to our nation's armed forces shall be suspended, if not ended entirely, and you are to spend upwards of five years maximum as sentence under flexible house arrest, as well as seek immediate psychiatric care with bi-daily appointments at Manehattan Mental Health's primary facility."

Setting the paperwork down on the desk in front of her and removing her eyeglasses, the judge looked down upon a rather shocked-looking Arc Nobis.

"If there is anything else that you feel obligated to speak, please do so while you have this time."

A second silence filled the room. Some leaned closer to try and hear the second lieutenant's response when it would come.

"I do not, your honor. I accept this punishment."

"Very well. You are to commence your sentence beginning tomorrow," the judge slipped back, banging her gavel twice. "Court is adjourned."

***

Nothing was quite the same in the days that followed. While, on the upbeat side of things, I did finally make corporal. As difficult as it was to comprehend, those at the office and within my circle of friends immediately began addressing my new title. Coworkers, it made sense. Friends? Not so much. Now it seemed as if they had forgotten my actual name entirely.

I sat alone in the computer room of the geology office, room bright as day with not one light left off, as I have left the place from now on. The sergeant major continued her recovery and, over the course of a couple of days since Arc's hearing, released from the hospital and went home on leave to spend time with family. After her scuffle in the emergency room for ten days, I'd say her time off is well-earned and long overdue, according to Argony and Magnus.

On the contrary, mounting consternation that existed among us long before the incident held high as further questions rose with little to no answers coming back regarding continuous regional seismic anomalies. Frustration soon took over as neither of our theories fully pieced together.

The eventual conclusion the three of us settled on was that prehistoric faults surrounding Manehattan were under immense stress and have been gradually releasing pressure. This is the case in the west, where far more vigorous and infamous fractures in the planet's crust spat out tremor after tremor—though, on some days, we discovered there to be far more here than many geologically-active zones.

The ticking of a clock in the room rung loud in my ears, topping my conscience while I sat statue-still in my chair, eased back, twirling a pencil slowly in my hoof for the last forty-five minutes. Boredom overcame all feeling as the afternoon seemingly refused to cease. It felt as if my shift might continue on for eternity which, in reality, I had only been clocked in for a few hours with two more to go. The absence of Magnus and Argony on some days to where I solely occupied the office never fully clicked, nor have I actually fallen through with speaking to one of them rather than letting it sit on my mind for hours on end.

Though, I suppose this is my eventual karma for signing those papers a year ago next month. Crazy how quickly time flies by, right? I mean, not even a year in and already wearing two bars and a pair of crossed rifles. That posed question as to what I might be this time twelve months ahead. After all, next in line was sergeant. I managed to make myself grin at the thought of outranking Hardstaff. To see the look on his face would be priceless.

My maw parted widely to let a quiet yawn slip out, and blinking slowly, I raised a hoof to wipe a tear that had formed after yawning. With boredom came creeping drowsiness, my worst nemesis at work. Coffee worked wonders on most days, whilst others it had no effect. It all depended on how much sleep I had received the night prior.

Some times I would even consider trying espresso, although that would require locating a shop off-base that served it. While no pony was fully restricted from drinking it, Joint Base Manehattan enforced strict policy against the sale or brewery of espresso within the premises. To my knowledge, that included at home—or in this case, in dorms.

A second, smaller yawn soon escaped, followed by the smacking of my lips as I strained to keep alert. Another one of those days, I thought. This sucks, commented the voice up above. He wasn't wrong in the least.

Looking around cautiously, remembering there to be no cameras anywhere in the office, I relaxed into the back of my chair and kicked my hinds up on the edge of the desk in front of me. A little nap couldn't hurt. Yawning for a third time, I reached up, sliding my cover down to shadow my eyes as they closed, blurring mere moments with sleepiness before dark met dark.

***

"Second Lieutenant Arc Nobis?"

Rubbing his forehead, the stressed-out stallion lifted his gaze to the door of the padded cell he had been placed in at the beginning of his sentence. "What is it?"

The door swung open, and in the frame stood a prison guard, his stoic expression meeting the confusion on Arc's. "You have a visitor, and your bail has been paid."

Arc's ears perked, eyes widening slightly. "By whom?"

The guard did not respond, instead stepping out of the doorway and making room for a maroon unicorn, donning the finest of black suits and a white undershirt, complete with a tie as straight as a beam of steel halfway tucked beneath the jacket. A pair of squared reading glasses sat on the stallion's muzzle, which he then tucked away into one of his pockets with a burst of magic.

The stallion smiled as he fixated in on the grey earth pony, back pressed against the right-side wall. His bright purple eyes went wide with further shock, only to soon fall into a cold stare directed right back at the unicorn.

"Good morning, Second Lieutenant. I am Armet Mace, CEO of Generation Technologies Incorporated. May I?"

Arc's brow furrowed, taking a good two seconds preceding a silent nod of a reply. Glancing over his shoulder and nodding once to the guard, Armet ventured into the room, seating himself in front of Arc while the door closed.

"It is to my knowledge that this incident was simply a... misunderstanding, yes?" Armet began.

The raised eyebrow above Arc's eye held there, perhaps even moving a bit further up. "I would use far different words to describe it."

Armet nodded, glancing down at his tablet, a faint grin crossing his muzzle, one that Arc spotted immediately. He tapped on the screen a couple of times, and seconds after, the lights in the room momentarily surged.

"What is it you want?"

Lifting from the device, Armet's sinister-like grin faded into a genuine smile. To Arc, it was anything but genuine.

"For somepony who could very well be unemployed after their sentence, I have an offer. But first, I have a few questions to ask."

Arc stared in silence. He almost knew what was coming next. Armet, looking back down to his tablet, expanded a window to cover the whole screen, turning it to face Arc. Shifting down to the screen, for the first time in years, Arc's blood ultimately ran cold.

"Is this you?"

***

I woke with a jolt, eyes shooting wide open and a sharp breath sucking in. Exhaling deeply, panting softly so as to catch my breath, I scanned around the room. Instead of humming monitors and maps plastered across the left wall, the room seemed to have... shrunk?

The chair I now sat in differed greatly from before dozing off. Rather than a far more comfortable all-black rolling office chair, the one in its place was wooden. The seat itself had no cushion, which ached my lower spine after having sat here for seemingly a long period of time.

Looking up from the armrests and focusing once more on my surroundings, I attempted to get up and find out where I was. Except I couldn't. A tug on my forehooves prevented movement. Glancing back down, I noted many layers of duct tape wrapped tightly around my hooves atop the cuff of my sleeves. The tape looped around either armrest that bound my hooves to them.

I gave a few light tugs and was met with similar results. The bindings made no movement in my struggle, which only further built confusion with a tinge of fear in my mind.

The click of a door's latch unlocking and a knob twisting prompted me to snap straight forward, where the noise sourced from. The door itself matched so perfectly with the walls that, at first, I could not make out the crack outline of it until after it had pushed inward.

A pair of griffons, one a foot taller than the other, entered the room. The larger one wore oval-framed glasses and a stone-colored army jacket neatly buttoned up the center, while the shorter—looking to be a female upon closer inspection—had on robe-like clothing. She closed the door behind them both and took a watch position beside it while the taller figure moved closer.

"Are you, ah... Star Shooter? Private first class?" he spoke, voice deep and almost rumble-like.

My gaze narrowed on to this griffon, scrutinizing him. The only response he received was a half nod, half shake of my head. Only part of that was correct.

"Ah, of course, my mistake," he said, peeking down at a short pile of papers in his talons. "You are a corporal now. Very impressive."

Before I knew anything else, his one claw formed into a fist and socked me right in the jaw, tossing my head to the side. I grunted painfully, turning forward slowly and clenching my teeth.

"You have made the King quite, er... unhappy. However, he shall be pleased to learn of your capture," chuckled the griffon, quite sinisterly, must I add. A second equally-powerful punch hit my chest, knocking the wind clear out of my lungs.

"The K-King?" I sputtered out, chest heaving slightly to regain my breath.

"Playing dumb, are we? All right, if that is how you want to play." He backed off, nodding to the other griffon accompanying him.

The rifle she held raised to aim just below me. With a press of the trigger, a single, deafening burst struck my leg with a sizzling, agonizing pain that brought a loud, pained yip out as I threw my head back, teeth grit and grinding as I writhed. "Gah, fuck!" I cried.

He snatched a wet cloth from a nearby table, wiping down his claw that now soaked red with my blood. Slapping it back down, he moved back closer as I struggled some more, placing both talons on top of my hooves roughly, squeezing with the claws of his thumbs beginning to dig slightly into the skin.

"Tell me, Corporal, what is your home base's layout? How many ships can it handle at once?" he questioned menacingly, leaning his head down to just above my eye level.

"I don't... k-know... what you're talking ab-out!" I wheezed, leaned as far back as the chair would allow while making direct eye contact. In all actuality, I did, and he knew that, too.

"Then perhaps you are familiar with daily watch rotations?" he asked with a low growl.

Silence fell as my body trembled, pain stinging in three locations up and down, from where my hoof bled slowly onto the snow-white flooring, to my jaw which, much to my shock, hadn't been dislocated in the initial blow.

The griffon released his grip on my hooves and reared back on his paws, standing straight up for almost a full minute while his unfaltering glare kept fixed on me. He eased back down on to all fours and began to turn away. But as he did, a third, powerful cuff caught just below the left temple, throwing my head almost completely sideways. It is a miracle how I have not fallen unconscious yet.

"Er wird nicht sprechen, die loyale kleine scheisse. Er nützt uns nicht mehr," he said to the female on his way out. One final glance in my direction, before he disappeared.

The barrel of her rifle raised once more. My eyes went wide as the realization hit. One shot was all it took before everything turned black.

***

I threw my cover off upon waking, only a mere moment prior to the back of my chair smacking against the floor in a jolt that sent a rather sudden second surge of adrenaline throughout my body, in a rather unhealthy manner, to boot.

Pressing myself up on my elbows, I snapped my gaze in all directions, panting heavily. An immediate sense of relief swept over me as I recognized the room once more and sussing there to be no pony to have witnessed my fall. Collapsing flat against the chair as it lay backwards on the floor, I gawked both in reassurance and sleepily straight up at one of the rectangular lights on the ceiling.

As I had said before, anything in this blasted Marine Corps resulted in karma, and she is the definition of a bitch.

***

After a bite to eat at the chow hall, and somehow without bumping into anypony I knew there, I headed home. The sun continued to hold high in the sky, seeing as it was still only early evening with at least another three hours preceding dusk.

Activity around base remained the same, I noted. For once, however, the training areas seemed vacant. Perhaps the next batch of recruits had not arrived yet. Schedules varied for some—like myself, where evidently I was a late arrival and could simply come on my own. Most recruits were actually shuttled in from the train station and airport, collected by enlisted officers, since most don't originate from Manehattan. The same went for the other base on the west coast.

Up the stairs, down the hall, and stopping at the door, I slid my key into the slot and twisted, waiting for the click, before turning the knob and pushed in. The refreshing cold of the air conditioner struck like a wall, prompting me to take in a deep breath after closing the door. I must have lucked out last year with the weather, seeing how much warmer this summer was already becoming. At least Manehattan had a breeze from the ocean that somewhat diminished heat, albeit trading for humidity that, if high enough, can make a pony feel like they are physically melting.

The noise of running water in the bathroom and pluming steam through a thin gap between the door and its frame told me that Nightpath was home at least. Though, him being up and at it this early came across as strange. Rather I shrugged it off and began undressing on my way into the bedroom. A long bathing session would certainly do once he finished, assuming any hot water would be left. Regardless of bodily or outside temperature, a cold shower is never pleasant.

I let off a sigh, both of some exhaustion and joy to be off work, laying my jacket on my bed and working to undo the black belt looped around my pants and kick those off with it, leaving only an undershirt colored alike or a shade lighter than my own fur. Don't be mistaken, BDUs are comfortable, but to undress after spending hours in them was still the best thing.

One thing did catch my eye from the corner. Glancing over, I noticed the envelope Hardstaff had given me sitting there, untampered with even almost a week later. For a good few seconds I kept my gaze on it, a frown crossing while pondering. With a groan that I am not sure remotely escaped my gut, I took the sleeve and began carefully tearing the tape off of the flap and opening it.

At first, it appeared as if nothing waited inside. However, upon flipping the envelope upside down and shaking revealed a small envelopes slipping out and fluttering to my bed, where it landed face down. I took it in one hoof and brought it up to open it as well, finding there to be a blue piece of paper within. My heart stopped as soon as I plucked it out and read what was written on it.

It was a check written for five-thousand bits, sent by the Marines Commandant himself in Canterlot. Attached to it was a small typewritten note, reading:

To LCpl Star Shooter, Lunar Marine Corps,

For going above and beyond the call of duty to prevent what very well could have been a far more major tragedy. Your fellow brothers and sisters, and your country, is greatly indebted.

I glanced back to the check, blinking a couple of times for good measure to make sure I wasn't dreaming this, knowing how vivid they could be sometimes—or most of the time.

But then, I felt the envelope, and found there to be a second pressed behind it. Placing the first on the small desk between beds, I focused on the second, reading on the back:

The signing bonus you deserved but never received.

"Signing bonus?" I murmured to myself, tearing into it carefully.

Inside was yet another check for an amount that quite nearly caused me to faint.

Ten-thousand and five-hundred bits was what it read.

"Finally opening that thing up, I see?" came a voice from behind that startled me.

Jumping, I snapped back to see Nightpath standing beyond the bathroom door, head sideways while he dried his mane with a towel. Calming myself, I nodded.

"What did you get?" he asked as he strode closer. Without words, I showed him, and his eyes shot wide open as well. "Holy shit, Star!"

"Here, read the note," I said, swiping it off of the desk for Night to read.

"Whooooa. You got recognized by the commandant! How cool is that?"

"Very," I responded with a meek smile.

"What are you going to use that on? Pay off your apartment?"

"I haven't thought about it yet. I could do that, but I'd have to speak to the property owner. In Canterlot, what are the chances I could afford it?"

"Hmm, true," Night tapped his chin. "Even then, you could maybe afford a place closer!"

"Too much of a hassle to move, especially long distance. But, this... this will definitely help," I said, looking back down at the two notes in my hoof.

"You could spend it in Coltlumbus!"

"...What?" I turned to him suddenly, blinking.

"Oh! You didn't know about Confest?"

"I... know what it is, I used to live there. What about it?"

"Ash, Anchorage, and I are taking next week off to go to it! We, uh, we thought you could come, too," Night smiled sheepishly. My ears lost their perk and I looked away. His smile faltered into a look of concern. "Don't you... don't you want to go home for a bit?"

It was not for at least a minute when I finally responded, looking him dead in the eye.

"Listen, Night, I enjoy going on adventures with you guys. In fact, I love them. But, this time, I... I must put my hoof down and say I won't be going."

"But... why? It's your hometown. Don't you miss it?"

He had a point. "Well, I—... Yes, Night, I do, but I don't miss what is there."

Night cocked his head just, nodding. "I see. But, we would not be going there for that. We would be around downtown, away from... them."

"I don't know, Night," was all I replied with.

He nodded once more understandingly. "I respect that. But, y'know, if you change your mind, let us know. You have a few days to think on it. Besides... you don't know, they might not live there anymore."

"They do, Night," I said firmly, narrowing my eyes. "They do."

His head raised a bit as he recoiled. It then bobbed in another nod. "Offer still stands, Star. You know we won't think any less of you if you decide against it."

I returned the nod, beginning to faintly smile. "Thank you for understanding."

"Of course, buddy. How's about we celebrate your achievements this week?"

"What do you mean?" I blinked.

"Well," Night brushed his hoof across the floor, eyes dashing away briefly. "I thought we could get together and, you know, have a little party somewhere, or see if Anchorage still wants to have that game night."

The smile on my muzzle grew. "That would be nice, but, I must insist, there is no need to celebrate."

"Ah, bull," he gently slugged me in the shoulder, grinning. "You know, I thought about it, too. We haven't had a proper game night since we lost Solar."

He wasn't wrong about that. Rather it had me thinking about it, and I nodded.

"We shouldn't let that stop us from having fun," he said.

I knew too well how right he was, and I could only agree with him. It was the best thing to do.

22. Home, Where the Heart Is

My hoof lifted, knocking thrice on the door frame outside of the sergeant's office, where I stood, grabbing his attention. His aqua gaze broke from the computer monitor on his deck, head turning towards the door.

"Come on in, Corporal," he demanded, focus returning to his computer, typing on the keyboard.

As told, I strode in, standing at his desk opposite of him.

"What can I help you with?" he asked, facing me now.

"Well, sir, without the second lieutenant around, I was not sure of who else to turn this in to," I replied, producing a leave request form and extending it out to Hardstaff.

He took the piece of paper, beginning to read over it. I stood calmly, observing in silence, patiently waiting on a response.

"Five days?" he looked up at me. A single nod was my answer. "Because these are all weekdays leading up to the weekend, that makes seven, technically. You know, Corporal, most mail in their leave forms."

"I tend to prefer a more immediate response, Sergeant," I commented. "Seems to work in my favor, anyways, sir."

Hardstaff nodded understandingly. "That is reasonable. Might I ask what this occasion is?"

"I... am looking to head home for a few days. It has been quite a minute." That seemed to be feasible and rather honest answer.

"Homesick?" a faint grin crossed his muzzle.

"To an extent," I countered. "I just need a little bit of time after, you know..."

The sergeant nodded again. "I cannot say I didn't see this coming after the day of the trial, Corporal," he remarked, taking an ink stamper and pressing it down on the form. He grumbled as nothing appeared beneath it, attempting a second time, with a similar result.

He raised his hoof, tossing the stamper across the small room, smacking against the wall above a trash bin, where it then fell into, caught by a thin plastic bag inside. In replacement, he used a pen, writing down on the paper, before sliding it across.

"Enjoy your time off, and be safe. I cannot stress that enough," he insisted.

I lit up, albeit not too noticeably. Picking up the form, reading the 'approved' in bright red writing in a blank space near the bottom, and nodding once firmly. "Will do. Thank you, sir."

He shook his head, waving a hoof. "Don't thank me. You've earned a little bit of off-time. Now, get out of my office," he grinned.

A short chuckle escaped my muzzle. "Yes, sir," and showed myself out, carrying along with me the leave paper.

***

Like Manehattan, Coltlumbus' infrastructure is a combination of art-deco and modern architecture. One of the tallest—at one point standing as the tallest building in the city—exhibited this mixture picture-perfectly. It was and continued to be the most notable tower in the skyline, standing at forty-seven stories and topped off with a hexagon-shaped spire of tan terracotta construct to match the building's overall appearance. Some regarded the city as the 'birthplace of art-deco' in Equestria. Though, that I just did not believe.

For only a minute did we catch a glimpse of downtown as the train exited a tunnel, crossed two bridges, and back into another tunnel that slithered beneath the North District and looping back beneath downtown, slowing as we approached the station that only temporarily brought the track above ground once more, though obscuring any sort of view by concrete walls that stood higher than the train from wheel to roof altogether, with numerous brick-styled complexes looming their shadows over the track-canal.

Two separate tracks ran alongside ours, branching off from other tunnels that headed elsewhere, eventually leading up to a diamond switch. As the train slowed, it crossed from one line to another until ultimately coming to a halt between two platforms. The track we were previously traveling down, come to find out, was occupied by another train already parked in the station.

Before the train could fully come to a halt, Ash had stood up to grab his luggage from a bin overhead. The jolt of the carriages bouncing off one another left him stumbling for a few moments and grabbing on to the side of a bench in order to break his fall. His struggle brought chuckles out of us, including him, and perhaps a couple of fellow passengers as well.

The doors automatically opened, and ponies who had stood and gathered in short lines prior disembarked out either side. Each platform was covered individually by shingled roofs suspended by stone pillars. Against the beating sun, it provided relieving shade, and especially a dry spot for when it rained. In Coltlumbus, if it rains—it pours.

Leaving the train was all too much similar to stepping into a sauna. From air-cooled cabins to the muggy, summer-heat outdoors wasn't the most pleasant of transitions. It could not have been more than a few seconds before I was already sweating from head to tail.

Anchorage about quite literally melted as soon as he exited the train. He might have been just a bit melodramatic after his hooves collapsed out from under him. "The fuck is this shit?!" he huffed.

"Welcome to Coltlumbus," I sardonically replied with a clever grin, wheeling my luggage behind.

The pegasus grimaced, "I think I already hate this place," shaking moisture from his wings and trotting after us to catch up.

Significantly larger than Canterlot's, the Coltlumbus Train Depot extended a whole train length with pedestrian bridges built to cross tracks safely—one of the similarities between here and Manehattan, albeit different scales. In similar fashion to Manehattan's as well, the building itself utilized a similar material and art-deco design. Many arches lined the platform side and the entrance face, with the taller of the arches leading into the main doors and a hall that stretched to the opposite end.

On one side sat designated waiting areas and check-in counters with enormous wrought iron-grid windows looking out to the tracks, with taller, more-narrow frames facing the street. The other direction took ponies to a food court, a couple of gift shops, and many vendor stands—basically the necessities for a transport hub.

An decorative circular booth in the center of the hall with wooden racks around it displayed magazines, newspapers, as well as free maps and brochures for tourists. Each of us took one of both. Above the racks plastered numerous colorful posters advertising ConFest and its venues in the masses.

Without the need for checking in anywhere at the station, we headed around the booth and to the main exit, bringing us out on to cobble streets. While busy due to the evening rush, no one could truly compare the crowds to Manehattan's. No way.

"All right, so, where's the Mareaton at?" questioned Ash, scanning around. It seemed more of a question for me solely.

"It isn't far. Come on, I know exactly where it is," I answered, leading the three onto the street toward the center of downtown.

The overall atmosphere of the city caught up after a couple of minutes. The sights, smells, all of it returning felt overwhelming at first. My former stomping grounds, they were every which way around me. In my head, the voice muttered: I am home.

City center invariably packed out the most of any other area in town. After all, many hot, one-time eateries occupied the area. Many would gather around the Arena District just a few blocks north of downtown for the upcoming festivities. That is sure to be chaos when the time comes. Hell, it is right this minute!

Veering left on to Bridle Street, beyond the grassy grounds surrounding the Coltlumbus Courthouse, there stood the Mareaton, a hotel high rise standing twenty stories, with an adjacent tower not owned by the hotel shadowing it by another five floors. At the top of the diagonal face of the hotel read a sign lit up in bright read, reading Mareaton Coltlumbus.

***

Walking into the hotel lobby, two lines about seven or eight ponies in length each stood between us and concierge. It couldn't be more obvious that they were here for ConFest, too. It was noted that a couple of them had not made reservations in advance and, as a result, held up the line while they argued with the employees attending the front desk, attempting to reason with them in order to grab a room in the rapidly-occupying place.

So, due to this, it left the four of us miserable as time snailed past. It had to have been at least twenty minutes since walking inside when the mare and her colt gave up and headed out, complaining all of the way, loud enough for everypony else to hear. Some went as far as cheering when the door shut behind them, and at long last, the line was moving.

"Hey, Star, know any good places to catch some grub around here?" Ash called from across the lobby, returning from a rather short excursion down the hall to scope out the first-floor amenities.

My ear flicked and pinned back, bringing a hoof up to run it through the back of my mane. "I know a few, but, it has been a while. I hope they are still around."

"Well, we have maps and brochures! We will find something. Surely a lot has changed since then, right?" Night joined in.

A small frown curved my lips. "Coltlumbus is a ghost city, and by ghost city, I mean, it is practically invisible to the rest of Equestria. Until something happens, of course. Always overlooked. Would not surprise me if they never finished renovating East Town Mall."

"Ooh! A mall? Where at?" Ash questioned with a rather fervid smile. Each of us gave him dissimilar glances, where he blushed in embarrassment. "So what if I enjoy spending hours at a mall? They are cool!"

I rolled my eyes, continuing. "Well, East Town is enormous. The central mall is just one massive building, two floors of shops. Hell, even has a movie theater above all of it. Around that is blocks upon blocks of strip retail and major stores, whiiiich, is all still being built up, I imagine. Like I said, not much interest to build if we're invisible on a map."

"Well, then. For Ash's sake, we'd better plan on making a little trip over there some time, aye?" Anchorage turned to the moss-green stallion with a cheeky smirk. "'Cause little filly over here's gotta get her shopping fix, am I right?"

Ash returned his smirk with a chagrined glower, which eventually fixed into a cunning and smug grin. "Yeah, and while we're at it, I'll look for a stallion's club for you to hang out at. It's a sailor's favorite place, after all."

Anchorage's complacency vanished in an instant. "Hmph," was his response, turning his nose up, bringing suppressed snickers out of us.

Eventually came our turn to the counter. Being the basic rooms the Mareaton had to offer, two beds each, Ash and Anchor would share one suite, while Night and I would share another. Much to our disappointment, no two beside one another were vacant. Because of this, our rooms were on separate floors.

After collecting our card keys, the four of us packed into an elevator. Ash and Anchorage's room was on the eleventh floor, while ours sat on the fifth, along an intersection-facing corner of the building. The hotel overall, due to its position, did not have the nicest of views. Ours couldn't have been better, while some had the sides of buildings to stare at, or dark alleys. We would learn later on whether or not the partners-in-crime were pleased with theirs.

The two of us hopped off the elevator on our floor, leaving them to head further up. Down to the right, the final door once more on the right, and into the suite. While simple, it definitely topped the crumbling one in Valor Lake. Occupying the room were a pair of queen-sized beds with a spruce nightstand separating them, a dresser with a flat-screen television on top, and a glass table-like desk with a chair, likely for working purposes for businessponies.

The bathroom was not anything special. Brown granite counter tops, a clean toilet, and a spacey sliding glass door shower. It would certainly serve our needs for the time here.

Lugging our bags in, we dropped them on to our respective beds—following an argument as to who receives which. I submitted to granting Nightpath the bed closest to the window, which, in reality, looped continuously around two of the four corners of the room. Even the bathroom had one! Thankfully, the way the shower had been built into the wall rather than placed against it could prevent anypony on the streets from properly observing. Not that it mattered much. After all, we were on the fifth floor.

Without a moment to unpack, we were out the door again, returning to the elevator to head down and meet back up with Ash and Anchor. Upon exiting back into the now-busier lobby, with lines now stretching beyond the doors, Night and I exchanged glances, and began squeezing between ponies politely to reach the door.

Neither of us knew how many ponies could truly pack into one hotel until this very moment. All but a couple mixed in between had their registration paperwork produced and prepared for their turn to snatch a suite. Those without having booked prior to now might as well just step out of line and begin searching for another place to spend the week.

Shock crossed our faces exiting the building, seeing chaos on the streets as those patiently waiting extended further around either corner of the block! Just how many could fit in this place?! Surely we had not arrived with impeccable timing this evening, could we?

We set up temporarily on an empty bench across the street, awaiting to regroup with Ash and Anchor and head off to find some dinner. Either of us anticipated some time before they would, considering the amount of ponies filling the lobby and likely the elevators, too.

My stomach growled with hunger, as did Night's a moment later. As time passed, Night stood. "You think they are unpacking or some shit?"

I shrugged. "Could be. We never told them to come right back down. I doubt it would take this long, though."

The draft stallion's gaze shifted to the entrance, still flooding with ponies in two single-file lines. His stomach rumbled audibly a second time, and Night let off a groan.

"I'll go in and try to find them. Wait here, alright?"

"Fine by me," I nodded, waving my hoof.

It only took a few seconds for the crowds to gobble him entirely, even for his notably varying height compared to most. Poor Night. Now he would have to wait for an elevator, assuming it isn't filled to the brim with ponies large and small attempting to fit as many as possible.

I rose from the bench, stretching out a bit. For the ten minutes spent sitting still, my back ached from the rough bench seat. Not exactly the most comfortable of places to sit. Hell, cobblestone was far less firm than it!

But then, everything came to a halt. Time itself, too, probably. My ears perked to a nearby sharp gasp, one all too familiar. Then came the words.

"Oh my gosh, honey, look who it is! STAR!"

The blood in my veins froze solid over, and every one of my muscles tensed as I came to a sudden halt. I knew that voice. My pupils shrunk, and a lump clogged my pipe.

Turning to look over my shoulder, my jaw fell open.

"Mom, Dad?"

Right as I turned around, it was as if I had been struck by an oncoming train in a streak of three alternating shades of blue. A pair of hooves looped tight around my neck in a near-headlock. Had there not been any warning, she might not have reached me in time with defensive reflexes. Now I stood in the middle of a street, trapped in a sort of lung-crushing bear hug with no air flow in or out. One would not be able to tell if I were choking due to the tone of my coat.

"Staaaaaar!!" the mare wailed, trembling and sobbing, squeezing tighter as if she wasn't already killing me with this hug. It took all of what strength was left to pry her off, and as soon as she unclamped...

Sweet, sweet oxygen. Oh, how I missed you! I coughed roughly, gasping as the curtains reopened. Any longer in her death grasp and I might have easily bit the dust.

"It's... good to see you too, Mom," I hacked out, sharply exhaling and rubbing at my throat with a hoof.

The greyish-blue pegasus mare whimpered behind her hoof over her mouth, eyes wide, glassy, and flowing with tears, with her ears almost perfectly flat to the horizon as she shook in utter surprise.

It wasn't more than a few seconds after when a larger earth stallion—coat of a midnight blue a couple of shades darker than my own, a short-trimmed, grizzling presidential mane and an extremely short tail—paced himself steadily on his approach. His expression held true to that of a former soldier.

"So, you have returned, after all of this time..." he grumbled, an increasingly-hostile look growing on his face. "Five years, was it? Five years next month?"

"Hi," was all I said in return, eyes narrowing. While far less intimidating, I wore my own unwelcoming glare.

"I-I can't believe y-you're back, Star!" my mother sobbed, trotting up and opening her hooves to pull me into another clasp.

This time, I reached out a hoof to catch her chest and keep her from reaching, taking a couple of steps backwards. "Don't hug me, Mom. One is enough."

The menacing olive scowl of my father thickened, his head raising to try and look tall above me. "How dare you speak to your mother that way! That is no way to treat a mare, son."

"I'm sorry, who are you supposed to be again?" I cocked my head.

The stallion's teeth clenched, and he swooped in closer to stand protectively in front of Mom, pressing a hoof roughly into my chest. "I am your FATHER! You shall address me as such, and you will respect your parents like an ordinary colt would!"

Receiving a gentle shove from him, believing it would remind me who he was, I instead remarked with somewhat tolerant exasperation. "Oh, so the 'sir' and 'ma'am' gimmick is gone, now? That's certainly new. I've sure missed a lot, haven't I, father?"

My father grit his teeth angrily. "You've always been a disrespectful little shit to us. Hah, it's no surprise your generation is failing our country!"

I rolled my eyes at that. "How original of an insult. Always the last resort for ponies your age or older. What is that from, 2005? I almost feel like I should be offended, but I'm not! Oh, no, what ever shall I do?"

A second, harder shove threw me back a few paces. Without hesitation, a thrust of both hooves forced the stallion back as well.

"Well, haven't you grown some muscle?" he observed. "What is it you've been doing?"

"Don't you ever touch me again. I won't say it another time," I threatened, body lowered into a defensive posture.

"You do not tell me what to do. I am your father!" he barked, stomping a hoof.

He was about to charge, when a shout came from behind me. "Hey, hey!" A white blur swooped over, landing between the two of us. On either side of me rushed up Nightpath and Ashfall, joining Anchorage in their small shielding line. "Is there a problem here?"

"Move it, asswipes! I am about to discipline my son the way I should have long ago!" growled my father, throwing his hoof to the side in a gesture, fixing his gaze on to me behind them.

"Your son?" Ash's ears perked, neck straightening. Both Night and Anchor's eyes grew wide, and the three all glanced over their shoulders.

My gaze darted between them, then I sighed deeply. "Guys, meet Diamond Spice and Star Scraper. They... are my parents."

"About time he says it, now treat us as such!"

"Hold up, hold up," Anchorage stepped off to the side, motioning his hoof as he looked between us. "Star, these are your parents?"

With annoyance, tossing a glare in their direction, I nodded. "Unfortunately."

"And just who are these shameful displays?" groused my father.

I focused temporarily on Mom, directing my question to her specifically. "If I explain, will you promise not to break down again?"

Wiping tears from the ducts of her eyes, she nodded, crossing a hoof over her chest.

My hoof gestured to the three individually. "Anchorage, Ashfall, Nightpath. They are my friends."

"That's wonderful, sweetie! I am happy that you are happy to have friends—"

"I met them at work."

"Even better! There is nothing greater than sharing an office with—"

"In the Lunar Marines."

"WHAT?!"

Mom's shocked, ear-piercing screech halted ponies for an entire block surrounding us. The four of us winced in our own way as she did. Her eyes dilated crazily tiny, while Dad's actually grew with... curiosity?

"You... joined the military?!" she gasped out.

A nod followed after a couple of seconds of hesitation. "Yes, Mom, I did."

"Wh—how—when—why?!"

"It's a long story, Mom," I responded flatly. "And, re—honestly, we don't have all night."

"Why do you say that?" grumbled Dad.

I glanced to him, faintly squinting. "Because we are hungry. We have had a long day of traveling, and we are looking for someplace to eat."

Mom gasped, a wide grin suddenly crossing her muzzle. "Oh! Why don't you four have dinner at Villa Nevis with us? We were just headed there for a late anniversary dinner. But, now that you're back, Star, let us celebrate that instead!"

I grimaced, hoof lifting. "Thanks, but, n—"

"That sounds wonderful!" Anchorage interrupted, stepping ahead. "We would love to. Won't we, guys?" Night and Ash nodded. I shook my head.

"We were just scanning our brochures from the station," Ash began. "Lead us to this... Villa Nevis!"

"Great!" Mom clapped her hooves in excitement, while Dad stood there, unwavering all across. "Follow us! It's only a few blocks west of here!"

They started in the direction they came from and continued around a corner. As soon as they disappeared, I snapped back at the three, glaring icy daggers at each. "Thanks, guys. That is just precisely what I wanted this evening!"

Then, with much reluctance, I trotted after my parents.

Author's Note

And so it happens. We meet Star's parents at last. Now, how will he explain his position to his mother? How will his father react?

23. Parental Control

Taste in ponies never changes, it seems. Villa Nevis packed out completely, just like it did back in the day. Waiting benches on either sides of the door outside of the restaurant seated ponies, while others stood around, waiting for an electronic timer to buzz and so they may finally snatch a table.

Mom and Dad booked a table in advance, meaning just one was left open for their arrival. Issue was, not enough chairs were available to place around it for the four of us and meant we would have to wait possibly as long as these other ponies.

Much to our surprise, and relief, the catering manager stepped out to inform us of our table having been prepared. As it turned out, an entire stack of chairs in the restaurant's backroom went unnoticed. Somepony would be leaving tonight without a job, that's for sure.

An ambiance of conversation, laughter once in a while, and classical symphony playing through small, almost unnoticeable speakers on the ceiling, all of this set the warm, welcoming, albeit high-end, fancy atmosphere of Villa Nevis. Replicas of famous paintings originating from the Eastern Kingdoms decked an entire wall toward the rear of the restaurant, inside a dining room expansion that simply had to have been added in recent years. It certainly was not there last time.

A large, vacant rounded table waited for us, complete with six chairs and a flickering candle in center wrapped neatly in plastic grapevine. Some of us received looks by fellow patrons making our way past them, and even a couple of snobbish scoffs—something one would expect least in Coltlumbus, a city what most Equestrians conceived as a podunk town encompassed by miles upon miles of corn and wheat fields which, to be quite frank, wasn't totally inaccurate.

Many took the supposed ritzy environment a bit seriously, some going as far as donning classy suits or dresses only short of renaissance-type. And then there was us—Mom modeled nothing but her sky-blue pearl necklace, the only thing Dad wore was the same grumpy look.

Night typically despised wearing clothes outside of his uniforms, Ash went with a baseball cap that, in some way, matched his appearance and personality all in one. Anchorage sported a t-shirt with the word 'NAVY' in bright bold silver left of center, while I exhibited a mixture of annoyance, stress, and a touch of anxiety.

Each of us took our seats—with Anchor going as far as sliding my mother's chair out for her respectfully. It received him a friendly kiss on the cheek, a cold stare from my father, and a groan from me, as well as rolling my eyes and raising the menu booklet up to hide myself.

A quiet period fell upon our table while everyone read their menus. The waitress serving us took drink orders and had them out in under a minute. For how busy staff were, they had their stuff together. Not once has their speed faltered on evenings such as tonight, and I had to credit them for that.

The silence broke as soon as flaps closed and ponies decided their choice of meal which, in all actuality, wasn't big on options beyond types of pasta. That embarrassingly enough left me alone with my menu open and held vertically so as to keep myself hidden. That didn't stop Mom, though.

"So, er... Star..." she began anxiously, my ears vaguely perking. "H-how long... have you had this job?"

My answer was another question for reference. "From enlistment or graduation?"

She momentarily paused between her response. "When did you sign up?"

"Next month. A year next month. So, I graduated in..." I lowered the menu to look over at my buddies, specifically Nightpath. "September, was it?"

His eyes darted ceilingward in brief thought, nodding. "September, yeah. Early September."

I nodded as well. "So, yeah, September is when we finished basic. He and I hated each other during that time," I gestured my head toward him, receiving a glare in return from Night.

Mom had to laugh a little at that, scratching an itch on her muzzle above her lips. "How was it? Hard, I imagine?"

"That would be an understatement. A big one," I grimaced faintly, closing the menu and crossing my hooves on the table and leaning against it.

"What is it you do?" questioned Dad, these being the first words he has spoken since before walking in.

My gaze shifted to him. "Right now I am working for geologists in Manehattan, as requested by my section sergeant and commanding officer."

"Commanding officer?" Mom blinked. "I knew you had a friend in the Navy. Same pony?"

I nodded again. "Yes. In fact, he offered a station on the bridge of his ship, the Eclipse," motioning my hooves as I explained. "Nuclear-powered aircraft carrier and the pride of the Lunar Fleet."

"Hah! You're full of it. Marines don't go on ships. They are a branch of the Navy, but they do not share a vessel!" Dad exclaimed, hooves crossed and leaned back into his chair. "Stolen valor is a shitty thing to do, Star, and you can be punish—"

"Actually, he isn't lying, sir," Anchorage cut in. "Eclipse is my home ship, too. We have shared berthings since Star's first deployment."

"That is impossible," growled my father, clenching his teeth. "Marines never rode on boats back in my day—"

I jumped right back in. "Dad, they do now. They have for quite a while."

"Apparently so. Since what, Luna's return? Her meddling has screwed up our military entirely. You are telling me that her sister simply let her take full control over the lower half of our armed forces and RENAME them? What, so she could rub her name in and plaster it on everything?"

"Dad, no, that isn't how it is," I straightened my back. "She demanded reform of the military, and as such, she re-implemented her so-called 'Lunar Republic'—" motioning my hooves in quotation, "—and that is where we are now."

He leaned forward slowly, head tilting an inch to the left and his unwavering scowl hardening. "Tell me, if you are such an expert on this... New Lunar Republic. What good has it done for Equestria?"

"Technological advancements, decline in crime around occupied cities and threats made towards them, strengthening in numbers of service members... need I go on, father?" I sat back, hooves crossed, a smug grin emerging on my muzzle.

He instead grumbled and sat back, looking off away from any of us. Mom stroked his shoulder with a hoof gently.

"You asked him, honey. He knows what he is talking about, I'm sure of it," she said in attempt to calm him, receiving further incoherent mumbling in response. She turned back towards me, smiling. It seemed more genuine now, but with evident concern still prevalent. "So, you live in Manehattan now. For how long?"

"Technically, I only work there." I corrected, hoof motioning again.

Night thought it would be a good idea to continue for me. "Technically, he and I split a dorm on base, but he lives in Canterlot." Immediately, a hoof threw to the side, punching him in the shoulder. "Ow!"

Dad snapped his gaze back, eyes narrowing. "Canterlot... that is where you have been all of this time?"

I looked back at him, blinking, nodding a short moment after. "Yes."

"Why Canterlot of all places? The rich, snooty scumbag capital of Equestria?"

My stare turned flat with irritation. Always something to say, Dad. "Within running away-distance, plenty of work opportunities, diversity, stuff like that."

"Diversity?" he chuckled. "Like, the rich-and-the-poor kind of diversity?"

By now I simply determined to go along with what he says. "Yes, Dad, precisely," rolling my eyes.

"How is it to live there?" smiled Mom.

"You know, decent," I shrugged. "Plenty of warm ponies, everything's within walking distance, gorgeous... expensive."

"I bet!" she agreed. "How could you afford it?"

The real answer to that inquiry was not my proudest. Saying it would most certainly bring out my father's unrelenting criticism.

"Ah, you know... nice office job, collar-and-tie sort of thing..." That raised eyebrows between friends who questioned my reply. Truthfully, they weren't much aware of my life prior to the Marines. Lying to my parents was lying to them, too. At least I could bear to be more honest around them.

"So, what made you join the Marines then? Why abandon a decent job?" Mom cocked her head with bewilderment.

Night, Ash, and Anchor shifted to me. They wanted to know as well.

I felt my cheeks begin to warm just slightly. Damn it, Star, and your stupid ass mouth...

"I... needed a change." That was at least accurate. "I made good money, yes, but... I... wasn't happy with myself. I felt like I needed to take a step back and think about things. Figured I would take a new approach to work and learn a few skills along the way."

"Surely you could not have had that job for long, could you, Star?" questioned Ash, squinting slightly.

"Yeah, what he said," Night concurred. "Tie-collar positions typically open up for young adults. You are only nineteen..."

I threw up one hoof to correct him. "Twenty next month."

"Twenty, whatever. You joined right after your birthday last year, didn't you? Was the job just... not good enough for you to where you thought about this?"

All eyes focused on me now. Shit, now I've really dug a grave for myself. Why didn't I just say I was unemployed? Maybe Dad's lecture on living off of benefits would be better than this shit. Our orders soon came, dropped off by the waitress, although, nobody began to eat, anticipating an honest answer.

"It just... wasn't for me, I guess."

"Of course it wasn't. Not for you! You hate dressing nicely. Why do it daily for work?" There it was from the obnoxious father himself.

"Well... it takes time to find the purpose everypony enjoys, Star. Is this what you like?" asked Mom, responded to with a nod from me. She smiled. "Then, if you are happy, I am, too."

"What about a marefriend? You got one of those yet?" Dad's eyebrow raised.

I froze, about to take a bite of a freshly-baked garlic bread stick when my eyes opened wide. Right then and there, any clue of what to say vanished from my head. I thought telling the truth about my life in Canterlot would not end well? This bought the ticket.

In all reality, Ray and I technically still were just "friends". We have only hung out with each other a few times since first bumping into each other by accident. Apart from that, and the sole time I chatted with him over a computer on the ship, not much could be proved. Nonetheless, the feelings were there. Maybe I am just still confused and not used to being around somepony like him.

But there was just something about Ray that struck a chord. He is cool, he is kind, he is handsome, he is a good pony to be around overall, just like the guys. I simply couldn't name what was so... different about him, what made my heart beat faster around him and brought a smile to my face just by thinking of his name.

...Is this what it is like to have a crush on another stallion? And had I just admitted to it?

My response eventually came almost a full minute of silence later, which felt more like ages. "I'm sorry. I... need a moment," sliding my chair back and standing up, heading for the door.

***

I went wherever my hooves took me. Out the front-facing exit, gaining a quick pace passing through the door and veering right, then around the corner into an alleyway bordered by a hedge and some trees shrouding another building beyond them, and the side of Villa Nevis.

Coming to a halt beside a closed dumpster, leaning my shoulder against the white-painted brick wall, I let my gaze lower to the ground, where a couple of old magazines sat, wrinkled and practically pressed fully flat to the cement. My eyes fixed on them but my mind focused elsewhere.

A deep, composed sigh of remorse let off orally. I don't know why I chose to come. Coltlumbus is my home, my true home, and yes, I have missed it so. With that long to see it again came hope of not encountering my parents. This was exactly what I had feared on the train ride to here.

Despite sober reasoning, they did not care. They didn't understand. They might not still, to this very moment. I'd described the matter to Night some time prior, so, he at least had some idea. The only reason Anchor and Ash play along and neglect to discern the forbidding hostility between my father and I is because they are getting a free dinner out of it. That would ultimately explain the behavior they display.

Damn it, of course. As reluctant as I am to come to such a conclusion, I was used. A long ass day of traveling, followed immediately by a hectic check-in at the Mareaton, and by pure luck my parents just so happened to be strolling by when they noticed me left alone on a bench, waiting for my acquaintances to come out and we grab food and settle in for the night. Who knows? Perhaps we might have missed them by a minute had Ash and Anchor finished what ever it was they were doing and stuck together the whole time

My lips curled into a frown, eyes and brows narrowing. Acquaintances? Is that what they are now, Star? That's cold. They are your friends, the only ones you have, unseparated even in the toughest of times, and the face of death itself.

A cider would do me well right about now. Hard, bubbly cider, topped off with a yellowing foam spilling over the edges of a tall mug, and alcoholic as ever to drown my desolation. I knew I was beginning to plunge into some form of a depressive state when the desire for a drink packed to the max with alcohol topped my want to go lock myself in a dark hotel room until the week is over and we can go home.

I brought a hoof up to my forehead, rubbing while very slowly moving my head side to side, eyes closed. A soft groan slipped out, trailed off with a deep breath through the nostrils.

It will be just fine, Star, you will be fine. You've been in this type of position before. All you have to do is get through tonight, and the rest of the week will fly right on by. No parents, no drama, nothing.

I wish it could work right this minute, to not be forced into seeing them. I could only hope. I wasn't ready to flat out ditch on them and my friends, that just isn't a me thing to do. Right now, it felt like it would be, but it wasn't.

Then, a deep voice cleared from behind. An ear swiveled, picking up the noise, prompting me to look over my shoulder. I felt my muscles tense when I did.

"It's rude to walk out on friends and family at dinner time, Star." Dad stood many feet away, observing for who knows how long, retaining a stoic expression that boasted the authority he believed himself to be.

I straightened my posture, turning around to face him directly with an eyebrow hardly furrowing. "I needed a breath of fresh air."

"You don't need anything. What is the matter with you? You've been like this all day."

"We only just met an hour ago." My brow further raised. "Am I not allowed to express feelings either? Last I checked in a mirror, I wasn't a cyborg."

"If you truly are who you insist yourself to be, then you should be fully capable of controlling your own emotions," he strolled closer.

"Tell me, father, in what world do being a Marine and showing no emotion whatsoever coexist? Oh, wait a minute, your own little world! The same world where you believe EVERYTHING that you do and that only your thoughts count! Fuck off, Dad. Seriously. I am ashamed to even remotely share parts of my name with you. If Mom had her way—"

"Your mother is undeserving of such. Mares should not have a say, period. Not at home, not at the store, not at work, not even in politics! They only exist to keep civilization thriving for those who are truly in charge. You fail to understand the abilities a mare possesses in our country. They outnumber us three to one!"

My head tilted a little. "Is there a point somewhere that you are attempting to make? Because I am not seeing it."

"I would expect nothing more out of you," he snarled. "The princesses enable mares to be dominant. It's no wonder stallions are moving away to other countries, because there, their leaders don't encourage domestic violence!"

"Just where are you receiving this information from? That biased-as-hell news channel that everypony I know strongly dislikes? The one that fakes their headlines to grab attention and spread conspiracies to ponies like you?"

He just kept going, as if there were no end to it, ignoring everything I said. Like always. "Your mother is at least knowledgeable enough to understand her position in this world. It is bad enough that she is a pegasus, and I could not have been more disappointed to learn you would be, too!"

"Sexist, are we, Star? Racist, too? Huh. Your coworkers would just love to hear all of us. You claim Mom doesn't have the right to say or do anything. I say I have no reason to call you my father." And that was that.

As I went to walk away, a force knocked me to the cold hard ground. I scrambled to stand, only to be pressed down by a single hoof. My gaze stared coldly toward my father, who stood above threateningly.

"I do not recall allowing you to refer to me by my name, nor do I remember granting you the power to talk back against your family! It seems what I have taught you, spoke only when spoken to, all of that was pointless. Perhaps I must attempt other methods to seal that into your tiny ass brain! As I have said before, I am your father! YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS SUCH!"

I hacked up a ball of saliva, shooting it up into his face. "Go fuck yourself with a cactus, or your shotgun! Pull the trigger too while you're at it!"

"You useless sack of shit, I'll put you where you really belong! The fucking aborted foal morgue!"

He yanked me upright with his hoof, immediately tightening his grip around my neck from behind. I kicked my legs and threw my forehooves back defensively. It was no use. He squeezed my neck in a headlock, not enough to cut off air or blood circulation, albeit strong to the point of no escape. Not without somepony's help, that is.

"Say it..." he snarled.

I continued to squirm, grabbing his arm with one hoof and struggling to pry it off, grunting in effort.

"Say it!"

"Fuck o-off!" I shouted, jerking upward to try and headbutt his jaw, but failed.

"RESPECT ME AS YOUR DAMN FATHER!"

"FUCK YOU!"

"STAR SCRAPER!"

I fell to my stomach, chin inches from the concrete surface. My body trembled with rage, and the slightest tinge of fear, chest heaving in large, audible gasps.

My head to the right slowly, eyes focusing now on a tearful pegasus mare standing at the foot of the alley. Behind her hurried my friends, coming to a halt and observing. Even Anchorage was hovering above her.

"What the fuck are you doing to him?!" she cried, running up beside me.

Scraper grit his teeth furiously. "He needs to learn his place, Diamond. He needs to understand his place in our house."

"He's not... in our house! He left us five damn years ago! Star is an adult now, he doesn't need us—no, he doesn't need YOU—to tell him what to do, or... what ever the hell it was you believe he needs to comprehend! This isn't how you treat your foals!"

"This is how my father raised me. I will do everything in my power to ensure I raise MY son the proper way!"

"I AM NOT YOUR SON!" I screamed. My hoof snapped up, catching Scraper directly in the throat. He stumbled backwards, choking and wheezing, as if he could not breathe at all.

Eyes grew wide between the only witnesses around. Out of reflex, Ash rushed up to position himself behind Scraper, raising a hoof, and smacking right into the rear of his neck. The force jarred his entire head forward, but also managed to unclench his airway.

The gasp of air he took in was enormous. He began to breathe once more, relieving everypony—including myself. He rubbed a hoof back and forth along his apple, attempting to croak out words, though was unable to.

Mom moved up to Scraper's side, rubbing a hoof gently on his shoulder. His livid mint irises fixed on to one thing in particular: me.

In the moments following a lengthy silence, I rose to all fours slowly, narrowing on him with equivalent fire. "Don't bother with the police. They'll let him out the next day, anyways, those ass kissers. Come on, we're going."

That was the final thing I'd spoken before turning tail and striding between Night and a now-grounded Anchorage, who parted to make room, observing as I walked away.

***

My walk took me far from the restaurant. Eventually my route brought me along the riverfront just north of the city center, where I strode along, ears flat to my head, chin low, and eyes on the sidewalk a couple paces ahead of my hooves. Had it not been my natural eye color, one might have thought I am going psycho-insane. Deep down, I felt as if I just might. I already was internally.

I hadn't bothered to check behind and find out whether or not the others have been following. Frankly, I didn't care regardless. Intent on looping right back around to the train station and hop on the next ride to Canterlot grew with every passing minute I strolled, while hundreds of thoughts ran amuck.

A burning, pained throb pulsated in my heart, which continued to beat heavily and paced quicker than what could be considered healthy. Emotions mixed into a deadly concoction that waited to be unleashed on somepony. A part of me argued heading back for a second round, but without remorse for my father this time. I knew doing so would end with me behind bars. Though, in the end, it might pay off after holding these feelings in for so long.

It was a shout from a fast-approaching Ash from a ways behind that brought a grumble of frustration out in response. Three pairs of hooves thumped—one set in particular heavier than the rest—came rushing, replaced with a trio of soft pants from the stallions.

"Star, what the hell was all of that back there?!" huffed Anchorage, fanning himself by rapidly stretching a part of his shirt with his hoof. The tone of his coat flushed pink all across, damp and salty with sweat from the day's lingering heat in tandem with the span of their run to catch up.

"Yeah, what was with all of that... hostility?" Ash questioned, chest gently rising and falling while he caught his breath.

I came to a sudden halt ten or so feet in front, slamming my rear to the concrete and grabbing my temples with both hooves, teeth clenched furiously.

"Because I fucking hate them! Both of them! They have been... shitty... my entire colthood!" I threw my hooves down from my head. "My father was a piece of shit from the moment I was born, he fucking... abused me mentally, setting my mind on to believing that I wasn't good enough for him, and my mother... she just let it happen! What kind of parent does that? Oh, right. Mine, apparently!"

Ash cocked his head, bewildered. "Star, have you perhaps considered the idea that, maybe, your mother didn't do anything because she is afraid of him?"

"Bullshit! She would have left him a decade ago if that were the case. She just doesn't... care..." my flanks slumped to the ground after my hinds gave out beneath them. "I hate them... I hate them with a burning passion! And, you... all of you... forced me to relive all of it, deal with their constant drama and listen to them drone on, asking why I left and the way I act! This is why I did not want to come to Coltlumbus in the first place. This is exactly why!"

The white pegasus and the green earth pony exchanged looks, before shifting to Night, who shrugged and held his hooves up, stepping back.

"You know, Anchorage, my father strongly despises sailors. I am purely shocked that he made no comment on your shirt," I added, closing my eyes.

"We're sorry, Star. We thought—"

"You thought? You thought what, exactly? That I wanted to see my parents after five years of being away? That, suddenly, because you dragged me back into unwanted memories, perhaps I would be interested in speaking to them?"

They both coiled back, struck by my words. Their ears no longer stood on their heads and were almost too afraid to speak.

"Star, to be the fairest of the fair, it was you who volunteered to come along. Neither of us forced you, we never have." I snapped my head toward Night, glaring intensely. He threw up a hoof to halt me before I could cut him off. "That being said, we should not have spoken for you. This will not happen again. Right?"

His eyes moved over to Ashfall and Anchorage, silent where they stood.

"Right?" he raised his voice.

"Y-yes... no... this won't happen again. Not now, not soon, not ever. We promise!" Ash sputtered.

"It will not," Anchorage added.

"It better not," I sneered, looking back across the river, reflecting off the color of the dusk sky past the sun's setting, creating a gorgeous, picturesque scene.

The water had no ripples, no rocks poking through the surface, not even the slightest of motion. It was as if the whole waterway had been drained and replaced with mirror glass in either direction it flowed, around each bend and twist the river took.

The three gathered on both of my sides, staring out over the water and to the buildings that rested on the opposite side, shrouded by trees that stood one or two stories, sometimes four or five in height, all silhouetted with the remaining daylight beyond them. Above glowed the moon and the countless shimmering stars emerging in the bluish dark that crept across the sky, twinkling individually. All of it combined served as a reminder that the world hadn't ended yet.

"We came here to have fun. I'm not willing to let this stand in our way and ruin our time," I paused, eyes glassing over, choking on my words before saying, "Solar wouldn't have wanted it that way."

All three nodded in agreement, turning up to the orange, yellow, pink, and blue sky. Thin cloud layers and contrails stretched in all directions, spanning for miles overhead, like somepony took a paintbrush, dipped it in fine silver, and glided it across the heavens.

For their sake, and my own, it was time to turn this trip around—for the better. There still was much to see and do.

Author's Note

Do you really blame Star for leaving the way he did?

24. Under the Weather

Trickles of water dashed down the opposite side of the glass, the soft pattering of rain falling in a heavy shower becoming the only noise in our room as we stared in disappointment from our respective points.

Upon waking earlier that morning, around eight local time, skies grew increasingly overcast. Concern between the four of us at breakfast down in the hotel's restaurant. While we ate, tiny sprinkles dotted the windows with drops eventually growing in size and beginning to wet down the streets and sidewalks.

By the time we had returned to our rooms to freshen up before heading out, between the thirty seconds it took to reach the fifth floor from the lobby, a wall of grey blew in. Trees swayed in the wind below as the rain came down in sheets.

While it did tone down a bit over the course of a half an hour, to walk around outside would not be a fun experience. Not without umbrellas or ponchos, that is, something neither of us owned. Not even the little hotel convenience store sold them!

And thus, here we were, showered and ready to explore, only to learn the rain would last the majority of the day and cease a bit before dark, all according to the weatherpony on the news. So much for a guys' day out, especially since we'd planned to hit up East Town. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to check the forecast prior to this trip... stupid me.

"So, Star, tell me. You know the city better than me. What's there to do on a day like today?" inquired Night, brushing his dampened mane in the bathroom mirror.

My hooves crossed as I leaned back against the wall above my bed. "I would say East Town. But, you know, there isn't much of a cab service here. Not that there would be one servicing in this weather."

"Why the hell not?" he grimaced.

"Why not to which part?" I blinked.

"Why doesn't Coltlumbus have taxis or, really, anything?"

He had a point. "Well, if it weren't for the snippy old farts that are far outnumbered around campus, we would at least have a decent streetcar! But, you know, always the elder vote above those who could actually make good use out of public transport."

Setting down his brush, Night emerged from the bathroom door. "Man, if that ain't another main reason why you hate it—"

"Take my word for it when I say this. It is. Never easy to get across town quickly. I'd fly if I knew how to, but that doesn't help you or Ash."

"So... either way you put it, we're stuck here 'til the rain quits?"

I let off a downhearted sigh. "Regrettably."

The brown draft stallion groaned on his way to the bed he'd claimed the day prior, flopping on top in chagrin, rolling flat onto his back, hooves spread outward on either side of him and hanging off both sides of the bed.

After a few minutes of rain-filled quiet, his head turned, the light blue of his gaze setting on me while I zoned out to the peacefulness. "You think ConFest will be a washout?"

"Let's hope not," I slumped down, only my head upright and backed against the wall in a rather uncomfortable angle that was sure to end with a crick in my neck. "Of all the times..."

"Yeah..." he sighed, evidently sad in his tone. "Man, this is one of those days where working actually seems fun."

I glanced to the right at him. "I was just about to say that. Literally, right this very second."

"Is this what our lives have become?" he added floridly, in more of a statement than a question, concerned on behalf of the both of us. "Is this what it is like to be an adult? Contemplating work as the best place to be on a day like today and questioning our lives?"

It was out of firm demand that had me requesting, "Night, please, for the sake of all things, do not get psychological on me. Not now, not here, not then, not ever."

He rolled his eyes, groaning and rubbing a hoof over his eyes. "Affirmative, Corporal," garnering a brief scowl from me in response. I chose not to react beyond that.

The rest of that afternoon and much of the evening as well was spent napping, watching boring programs on the TV, and the sudden never ending suspicion that, perhaps, Night was on to something after all.

***

A pair of doors split in between, mechanized by hydraulics that automatically opened in advance of the unicorn, escorted behind by a uniformed security guard, moving along with him an earth pony stallion, hooves cuffed, chains clinking and scraping along the tiled floor as he walked.

The earth pony's bright violet gaze scanned over his surroundings while the doors slid shut behind. While darkened due to a significant lack of windows in the enormous laboratory, artificial light of digital monitors in many asymmetrical places made up for it.

Some smaller areas sat partitioned off by privacy glass, each with individual tables. Along the ceilings stretched wiring of all shape and size, seemingly fanning out in all directions and leading up to a circular chamber in dead center of the room, where some of these wires, among a few transparent tubes, hung from a steel lip positioned perfectly above a circular table. Here sat the center of their attention, where the maroon unicorn turned around a few feet in front of, grinning intently.

"Welcome to our robotics lab, First Lieutenant!" the unicorn gestured outward, the guard shoving the grey stallion along. "Take it aaaaall in. You'll want to get used to it for a few weeks."

The brow of the grey-coated stallion furrowed, his eyes once more studying the chamber and its seemingly endless electronic array. "What interest do I have in this place?"

Armet allowed his grin to falter, briefly shifting focus to the officer behind their prisoner, nodding once to him. The guard then took a set of keys, unlocking the steel cuffs binding the stallion's hooves, before turning away and leaving them to their own, where the unicorn regained a deceptive smirk.

"You should answer that for me, Arc Nobis. Why else would you need this?" his head tilted a hair to the left, producing from his suit's pocket the exact flash drive as the night it had been used.

Blood in the earth pony's streams froze over, and his eyes grew wide. Arc's look of shock mixed with mild bewilderment soon fell into a hardening glare. "That does not belong to you."

"No?" Armet fixed on the drive, turning it in his magic to examine it over. "This may not be. What it contains... hoho... that is a whole other story in itself, isn't it?"

The suited pony took gentle, methodical steps closer, holding the small storage device to eye level. The smug in his riveting expression told Arc what he had already known about this deceitful stallion, holding his ground stiffly as they now stood face to face.

Armet lowered to an almost whisper, speaking again, "What was it you were attempting to achieve that night? Breach security and steal from company data banks?"

"As part of my duty, I am to guarantee the safety of Equestria and its citizens. Doing so means I must ensure that you are not a danger to my ponies. However, evidence shows, that is not the case."

"Your ponies, huh? Like those Marines and sailors you murdered in cold blood? Well, excuse me, Prince," he took a few steps back, kneeling in a jocular bow. Arc simply observed in tense silence, grunting at his comment. "I can assure you, what it is that we do at GenTech, we prioritize the safety of our staff and our clients."

"It was a routine sweep, Armet. We are obligated to check for threats, warranted or not. What I did that night was justified," Arc returned sternly, eyes narrowing.

A silence fell between them. Carefully, with use of his magic, the unicorn tucked the flash drive back into a sleeve. His muzzle grew a somewhat intimidating smirk.

"Nopony likes a pony that fibs, First Lieutenant, especially not one such as yourself. Do you know what I do to fibbers?" his grin turned sadistic. Like before, Arc kept silent, letting Armet resume. "You are awfully generous for a pony of your occupation, are you aware of that? Not many agree to volunteer for our... tests..."

This time, out of curiosity, Arc questioned, "What tests?"

"Step forward," the unicorn requested, intently grinning, drawing a rectangular device, its screen see-through on both sides. It lit up in a bright blue. In further confusion, Arc took a few steps forward, coming to a halt above a hazard tape-like line on the floor, failing to notice it initially.

A set of mechanical arms dropped from above and cuffed tightly around Arc's hooves, forbidding movement, lifting him up off of the floor and bringing him to the table, planting him down on it, but continuing to hold him still. He grunted in retaliation, struggling to break free of their grasp, only to be further squeezed to the verge of pain.

Throwing his gaze up and forward, he saw Armet with the tablet in both hooves, swirling one hoof across the interface, before tucking it back away and approaching steadily.

"You see, Arc, had you not been so rudely concerned, you might have had a clue of what purpose this room is meant to serve over the next six months!"

"What are you trying to do?!" snapped Arc, attempting to kick his hinds and stomp his fores. Each effort was countered by the arms simply recoiling back. For them being artificial, they packed far more muscle than what he would have anticipated, drawing concern from the Marine.

The suit-donning maroon unicorn came to a halt some two feet in front of the table, standing below where Arc was held as a cylindrical tube built of fiberglass lowered steadily from the ceiling. A set of titanium latches slid through hooks built through the tube to lock it in that position, effectively trapping Arc without the need of mechanical arms.

"You, Arc Nobis... you are about to make history for us. You shall become the world's first super soldier, one to lead the soon-to-be thousands like you to victory. There will not be anything or anypony who can stop you in your tracks."

***

I coughed roughly, my lungs and throat simultaneously burning, as if I had swallowed a lit match and they caught fire, flaming all the way up the length of my throat.

The door clicked open, in walking a tall brown earth stallion, tossing his head to the side to move a part of his dark plum mane. With a warm, concerned smile, Night asked, "How are you feeling, Star?"

Groaning softly, "My damn father must have had something he contracted from the jail he works at, and I so miraculously caught it off of him..." I laid flat on the bed, staring up with my hooves over my stomach.

"You think that's it?" he walked up, dropping a plastic shopping bag on the side of my bed near my hinds. "I bought you some medicine, soup, and a pack of crackers."

I turned to him with a faint smile. "Thank you, Night, but... it'll be a bit difficult to make the soup without a microwave."

Frowning, in response to his mishap, Night brought his hoof up, smacking it gently on his face, shaking his head into it. "I'm sorry, I am an idiot. Forgot we're not in Manehattan."

"Don't beat yours—elf up—" a sharp gasp ahead of a vicious cough cut my words. I reached over to my nightstand for a bottle of water.

"Here, allow me," he reached quickly for it, bringing the bottle to my hoof.

I tipped the bottle, sipping ever so gently so as to avoid aggravating rather than quelling the tickle forcing coughs out of me and worsening the pain. Groaning, I laid back on my pillow, propped up against the wall to keep my head comfortably upright.

"Of all the times to get sick..." I sighed, closing my eyes.

"Hang on, I got you something for that, too," said Night, digging into the bag briefly and producing a small box. Inside sat a bottle of cough medicine and a little plastic cup to pour the liquid in to. He paused to read the painfully small-worded instructions on the back twice over, just to make sure he would not accidentally kill me with too much in the process.

I watched with growing desperation, reaching my hoof out as he soon began to pour the thick, cherry-colored fluid up to a certain line on the cup. Not a moment after raising the bottle was it in my mouth and flowing down my throat with how quickly I had snatched it.

It wasn't more than a few seconds after where I then began to regret everything. The taste, the smell in my breath, and the texture as it rolled down my esophagus, irritating the burn caused by the sickness. It actually made me want to cough more! What the hell, pharmaceutical companies?!

Immediately I reached for the bottle of water, only to be stopped by Night. "Let it go down itself."

"Fuck you, let it go down itself, this shit's foul!" I snarled, chugging down the little portion of water left in the bottle and inhaling deeply afterwards, panting. "What do they put in that shit?"

Night raised the bottle, turning it to the label displaying the ingredients. "Well, there's—"

"Don't tell me. I don't want to know," I wheezed out.

"You just said—... Okay," he twisted the cap back on and took the cup to wash it out for later use. "That should help after a little bit, hopefully."

"It's already helping," I groaned, laying back.

"Oh yeah?"

I continued, "Helping me cough my guts out."

"That should go away on its own, presumably as long as chugging that water right after doesn't make a difference," he sneered, running the cup under the sink faucet, reemerging moments after and placing it atop the bottle's cap. "So, about ConFest..."

"I don't think I can go, man..."

"What?" he blinked. "The medicine—"

"It'll help, but I won't feel better in time. Essentially, I would hate to twist a knot in a crowd and not make it to a restroom in time and wind up with all of us thrown out for something only I did, you know?"

"So... you're not going?" Night's ears lost their perk.

With reluctance, I shook my head, coughing lightly. "I'm sorry. I just feel... terrible. I haven't felt this nauseous in years, not since school."

He nodded slowly, chin lowering in despondency. "All right. I understand."

A feeble, innocent smile established on my muzzle in reassurance. "This is my karma for being around my father," I chuckled weakly.

Night gave a delicate smile in return. "Heheh. Well, you've still got your humor."

"You would call it humor," I smirked.

"I'd punch you if you weren't sick, I hope you know that."

"Oh, I know you would...n't." Night reared his hoof back. I threw mine up in defeat, laughing. "Okay, okay, easy!" coughing afterwards. "Sick pony, can't fight back!"

"Ah, what a load of bull," Night simpered. "You could kick my ass with a sword through your chest and your hinds chopped off."

"Now that right there is a load of bull, and we both know that." He shook his head in denial. "If all it takes a common cold to bring me down, what'll a sword do?"

"You know what they say," he shrugged. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

"No, what does not kill you isn't lethal," I corrected, before adding, "...usually."

Before Night could respond to that, a gentle knock on the door nabbed our attention. Just outside of our room in the hall called Ash, muffled by the mild soundproofing of the room's construction. "Hey! We're waiting on you guys!"

"Be right there!" Night called back, shifting back to me with a worried frown. "Are you for certain that you aren't up for it?"

"One-hundred-and-ten-percent positive," I nodded. "You go on ahead. If I'm feeling at all better tomorrow, I'll head down there, aye?"

Night's response was a slow, understanding nod. "Right. And, uh, I'll pick you up something to eat on our way back," he commented, starting for the door.

"Burger, please," I requested, faintly regaining a smirk.

"Soup!" he asserted firmly, stopping at the door and looking back briefly. "Room service number is on the nightstand, too."

"I know," saying in plastic exasperation. "Go have fun."

"Just a reminder," he winked, taking the handle latch and turning it down, jarring the heavy door open and heading out. After it had closed, I could just barely hear the voice of Anchorage asking why I would not be tagging along, and Night explaining, fading as they headed to the elevator down the corridor.

And so began the long day of waiting for their return without a single clue of how to pass the time.

***

Minutes ticked by like hours, whilst hours went on for seemingly days. Not two hours had passed since my friends went down to the festival. With only half of a sleeve of crackers remaining to tide me over for as long as I could go without reading over the brochure for room service, and what ever program came on the television to keep me company, these next five or so hours might never end.

Remote in-hoof, channels never stopped switching. These days it seemed what cable had to offer failed to attract my attention, and what did pique my interest typically repeated itself every other hour—the channel that broadcasted nationwide weather forecasts and news stories that centered around it. While the weather has been a hobby of mine for years and never ceased to bring wonder to my eyes simply by looking up, to hear the same ponies drone on about flooding conditions near Mareami and a drought in the southwest on loop eventually grew old.

While it was less of a topic, Hurricane Aquarius remained mentioned by a few of the anchorponies and meteorologists that starred the broadcasts. The storm never truly made landfall, but caused damage in the sense of the storm surge it caused, injuries and even cases of drownings from rip currents, and comment of the Alder, which evidently became a world headline, along with the rescue part of the operation. For secrecy reasons, nothing further reached the media.

Remarks of the ship brought back unanswered questions of mine, and likely everypony else I was with that night. Who were those griffons? What did they want with the Alder? Why spare us?

The worst part of it all was comprehending that there may never be a definitive answer. Or, in the event that there was, it may be held above our heads tauntingly by the higher-ups. That would not surprise me in the slightest. Thinking on all of it worsened my migraine, much to my dismay. Evidently the worst times to delve into the depths of the mind and one's thoughts to pass the time are when you are ill.

One would also think that being sick meant easy sleep. In fact, it is precisely the opposite. Most over-the-counter medicines also label how even the slightest of a dosage can make me drowsy, or put me to sleep altogether. Whether or not that is the case (which it really was not), each attempt thus far to doze off has backfired. Oh, how obnoxious it is to be physically and mentally exhausted, but my body insists mandatory rest is utterly unnecessary.

Letting off a grunt of frustration, ultimately I decided against trying any further. To be met with similar results every time became distressingly pointless.

My ears suddenly perked upon hearing a hoof knock slowly on the room's door. Question arose, as did my eyebrow, knowing Night would not be knocking and would come straight in with his own key card—unless he managed to lose his somehow, which I wouldn't put past him. Even then, he could receive another one from the lobby. On top of all of that, it has only been a couple of hours!

Regardless, I eased out of bed, head throbbing with relentless aches and I let off a pained groan, taking gentle strides to the door and twisting the latch downward and opening it. My muscles tensed when I discovered my mother to be standing there, holding a little rectangular box lightly wrapped in gift paper. A small, genuine, albeit nervous smile held on her muzzle.

Stiffening my neck a little, looking down at her, I softly asked, "Can I help you?"

Tears sat in the shorter mare's eyes. The fur on her cheeks sat wetted flat from tears. Judging by the way she looked at me, I knew she had immediately noticed my ailment, but didn't bring it up. "I-I just... wanted to apologize for yesterday, S-Star."

I blinked slowly with a lack of care and drowsiness. "Okay. Thank you."

"A-and... I'm s-sorry for everything. I never wished for our lives to take such a drastic turn, to where you w-would feel that you could live a better life away from us so early..." she choked softly. "I-I love you, with all of my heart... I'm s-so happy to see you, all grown up... I just w-wish I could have been there to witness, a-and... I fully understand your reasoning behind leaving..."

Never in my life did the somber tone and the cracking of her voice, her sharp breaths, the sniffling, and the tears in her eyes fail to bring me to heartbreak. Worse knowing the way she had been treated days ago, plus how I'd just greeted her and had been ready to close the door on her, it tugged at my heartstrings.

I reached forth, pulling Mom into a gentle, but caring hug. With quiet sobs, she rested her cheek to my neck and looped her hooves around in return. Water slipped between eyelids after closing them, stinging my eyes and eventually slid down my cheek as we held one another.

"I'm sorry, too, Mom. I should not have treated you the way I did. That was... wrong of me."

"Please, S-Star, don't apologize. Y-you weren't in the wrong," she pulled back, her gaze lifting to meet mine, wiping tears away on either cheek with one hoof. "I-I should have stepped in years ago and taken action against y-your father for how he was with you. I h-hope you can forgive me, at least."

I responded with a gentle nod, and a meek smile. "I forgive you, and you only."

Her smile returned, thankful and trembling on her lips. "T-thank you..."

"To be quite frank with you—" I whooped, turning away and coughing into my elbow, sniffling. "—sorry. Honestly, t-this was the step we needed."

"I agree," her smile grew only a little. "Do you miss your friends?"

My head cocked. I looked at her, puzzled. "Huh?"

"You didn't get to go with them because of the way you feel," she frowned. "Got it from your father, didn't you?"

Lifting a hoof to my muzzle, I sniffed heavily, rubbing it and nodding.

"I tell him he needs to have a shot for his immune system to boost it. He doesn't ever listen."

"Yeah, well, what else is new?"

"It's going to kill him one day," she carried on, a light pain coloring in her voice. I nodded slowly. "I won't say he deserves it, but, perhaps it will teach him to listen."

"Won't matter if he is dead," I shrugged.

"Yeah..." her gaze lowered, fixing briefly on the package she carried. "Oh, of course. Here."

She handed the small box closer which, after a couple seconds of hesitation, I took gently and began to rip the paper off carefully. "I don't know what this could be, but, I hope this isn't what I think it is," I commented with a sheepish, weakened grin.

"No, no, it isn't an apology gift. I-I was hoping t-that, maybe, w-we could stay in touch n-now that you live... s-so far away."

Removing the neat layer of blue wrapping paper revealed the top of a smooth white box with a printed image displaying a black smartphone, trimmed around the edges with silver, and rounded in its corners. My eyes grew at the reveal, slowly looking up to Mom, who smiled and nodded, her ears pinned mostly back.

"H-happy birthday, sweetie, e-even though it is a few weeks early, and since, well... you will likely have gone back to Canterlot or Manehattan by that time."

"Oh, Mom, you didn't have to..." I sighed quietly, smiling weakly, pulling her into a thanking embrace, careful while holding the box so as to avoid dropping and breaking its expensive contents.

"I'm your mother. You deserve a little something for your birthday. Besides, I promised you a flip phone for your fourteenth, and I couldn't fall through with that promise. Now it is more of a necessity than a want," she gave a short laugh. "I'll give you my number before I go, too, so we can still talk."

"Thank you, Mom," I smiled, tightening my hold around her only gently. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweetie," she drew back, bringing a hoof to my cheek. "What's happened is in the past now. Let us leave it all behind and focus on the present."

The smile on my muzzle swelled. "I can't agree more."

25. At Ease

POP! BANG!

I shot straight up, panting softly at first as adrenaline kicked in, eyes snapping to the left of the television screen. The silence that followed was comforting, but brief, as a second startling bang had me out of bed, followed by a third almost immediately after, and countless more.

The sheets covering my lower half failed to remove themselves when my hooves flailed, latching on to my hinds and making me trip halfway off of the mattress and falling to the floor with a grunt. Each explosion and the jolt of smacking the thinly-carpeted floor created smaller, aching waves in my head that worsened the migraine significantly.

Out of desperation, I kicked multiple times, managing to break free of the grasping arm of cloth that now partially strewn messily across the bedside floor. My head kept low to the floor while I kept in prone position with only an inch or two space beneath my chin to spare. The bathroom door stood no more than ten feet from the bed in reality, yet felt far more distant and seemingly growing further despite moving towards it.

A crushing weight bore down on my chest and across my back reaching the cold tile floor. Every detonation now seemed directly above the hotel, rattling the floor, the walls, everything. Within the safety of the bathroom, I only hardly managed to reach up and take hold of the counter's edge and pull myself up.

First thing I locked on to were my own eyes, dilated in fear. A thin black cloth material atop the helmet I wore flapped slightly in a breeze, torn in many places. Blood dripped from a gash across my cheek and near the top of my left ear, where a piece over an inch in length had been blown off and practically painted my ear below it in a wine red that ran down over my temple and as far as my cheek bone and upper neck.

The look I gave myself was horrendous. I knew chaos had erupted. Airborne explosions shook the earth, some larger and closer than others. My chest heaved laboriously, lungs pained with every breath in. I swallowed a stone between gasps, focusing now on a trio of bullets caught by the armored plates I wore over my clothes. Stinging marked each spot where the momentum of them impacting bruised my skin beneath.

I grasped my chest with a hoof suddenly, taking hold of the vest and yanking strongly after a few seconds and managing to break the velcro straps over both shoulders, dropping the armor free of my chest where it fell to the floor. The noise of it matched that of another explosion, the force of its shock wave throwing me to the ground.

A heavy grunt escaped as I pressed roughly into the cold tile, only to immediately press myself up enough to shift back into prone position and writhe my way through the door. Despite lacking the gear worn in the mirror, its heaviness continuously attempted to weigh me against the ground and prevent movement. The worst of the pressure centered over the heart and lungs region of my chest, forcing my breaths to remain short and rapid.

Much alike from my bed to the bathroom, the journey toward the suite's door could not have been longer than it needed to be. Dragging my hinds along and using nothing but my forehooves to move myself didn't exactly contribute, either. An abrupt queasiness surged in my stomach, with it threatening to make me hurl violently across the floor before me. In tandem with the migraine, dizziness, and nausea, my sickness began to quickly catch up overwhelmingly.

Just feet leading up to the door, I gave out flat on the floor, trembling weakly with my face burying itself into the carpet as I attempted to hold the chunks down and avoid a devastating mess. Images of... it... flashed in my head. The initial explosions at the start of the attack, a breached gas line igniting a fireball that engulfed a short row of buildings, the grenade...

The fragmentation grenade that Solar jumped atop to cover it, the pop of it setting off muffled by his body, and deadly metallic shards piercing flesh, and the pool of blood that collected around his corpse in the moments after. All of that came rushing back at once.

I pleaded it to cease. Begged, prayed even. None of it would. After a few minutes, it seemed it would never end, as if time no longer ticked on. Tears welled in my eyes, squeezing between the crack of my lids, my teeth grit and grinding back and forth, slowly and agonizingly.

Soon the pounding of my heart turned painful with every other pulse it made. If this wasn't what a heart attack is like, I could not possibly imagine.

Explosions soon became constant. Frequent enough to be mistaken for a constant, booming roar of thunder, or a passing train. The whole room vibrated intensely while it went on.

Then it stopped. At long, relieving last, it stopped.

My eyes shot open, pupils crazily dilated, and breathing heavy still. They darted over my shoulder and behind, toward the bed room. I lowered my hooves from the top of my head, which I had thrown up defensively to protect myself. Evidently, it was all for nothing.

Chest heaving in and out, I rolled upright and pressed up on trembling hooves that struggled to hold my weight. Cautious, unnerving strides were taken back toward my bed, looping around, coming to a window pane beside the television.

It probably was not the greatest of ideas to stand beside the window in the likely event that it would shatter suddenly and spray my face with deadly shards. But, much to my reassurance, that didn't happen. In fact, nothing was wrong to begin with.

I went back into the bathroom, this time in a significantly calmer state. In the mirror stared back a dark-coated pegasus, muzzle red and raw and eyes mildly bloodshot and puffy from a lack of proper sleep. Three nights in a row on one or two hours was getting to me.

What I saw wasn't what raised self concern. Rather, it was what I could not see. Not with my own two eyes, that is. One glance at myself told me all there was to hear, what words themselves could not so easily convey.

It was time to put this at an end.

***

It wasn't until somewhere past eleven that night when the lock slid open with a click. The handle turned downward, door swinging inward. Through the frame, silhouetted slightly by the light of the hall behind him, Nightpath walked in, carrying with him two plastic bags that, upon closer inspection, weren't full of groceries.

"Hey, Night," I said quietly, below the level in which my throat would begin to hurt.

"Hey, Star. Didn't know you were still awake," he replied, door closing on its own as he came closer.

"Whatcha get down there?"

"A lot, actually," Night grinned, setting one of the bags down on my bed. "All of that is yours. Some of it is from Ash and Anchorage that they bought for you in your little souvenir bag."

I chuckled quietly, which turned into faint coughing. A hoof placed on my stomach to try and cease it. "You guys didn't have to buy me anything down there."

"Ah, bull," Night plopped onto his bed, dropping his bag gently on the floor beside it and his luggage. "You don't deserve to miss out on everything."

A meek smile crept onto my muzzle. "Thank you."

"Hey, anything for my best friend," Night glanced over, returning a more genuine smile, albeit tired from his day.

While unnoticeable in the dark, my cheeks heated faintly, enough for me to feel and be thankful it wasn't visible to him. "Crazy how a few months ago, we hated each others' guts."

The brown draft stallion let off a short laugh. "Yeah."

"I would say good times, if that were the case. But, I am thankful that things changed."

He nodded slowly. "As am I. Makes me wonder, honestly, had the ship not been attacked, we would probably still be at each others' throats, you know?"

Another chuckle escaped. "It's weird how life-threatening situations bring the best out of ponies," I faced up at the ceiling. "If only that were the case all the time, not just in times of need."

"I can't agree more, Star."

A silence between us followed. It lasted for only a few minutes, before Night continued with a questionable statement.

"You know, it might have been for the good that you didn't come with us?"

My ears perked slightly, body tensing, eyes moving over to him. "Huh?"

Night was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, both hooves on his chest. "Those fireworks... they were something. But we barely handled them. At least, Anchorage and I did."

I calmed slightly, initially believing he would say something else. Something hurtful. "Yeah?" I poked for him to continue.

"A few of them sounded exactly like they did that day. Precisely like them. I look down and I see Anchorage crouched down. His ears weren't up, and neither were mine. My heart was racing, and I felt like I was hyperventilating a bit."

"How did Ash take it?"

"Like a professional. In fact, he didn't notice us the whole time. I am not too sure if that is a good thing, or a bad thing..." he sighed. After a few moments, he looked back over. "Did... did you do okay?"

His question hit hard. A couple seconds of silence split his question and my response, which was a slow shake of my head. "No. In fact, you are more than correct. I wouldn't have lasted one minute down there."

Night sat up, staring right at me with high concern. "How bad?"

"What words could I use to explain in one?"

He blinked twice. "Grievous?"

I pointed a hoof to him as a gesture that he was spot on. "Grievous," yielding a sigh.

"Man, I'm sorry. I wish I—"

"Hey, don't worry about it. As long as you still had fun down there, that's all that matters to me," I gave back an authentic, reassuring smile.

"That isn't exactly settling, Star. It might not have happened to you if I were around—"

I threw up a hoof to stop him. "Night, please, I insist," lowering it, deeply breathing out. "This is something I must work on alone. I will not overcome any of it if I have ponies with me at all times, not to sound rude. This is our problem, and if we are to get better and move on, it is up to us to make sure we solve it individually. You get me?"

He stared in silence, eyes twitching ever so lightly, letting off a heavy nasal sigh, a frown curling his lips. "I get you," he responded lowly, nodding once.

"That mare I see in Manehattan. She's getting her start still and is always open to new patients. Maybe I can talk to her about getting you in if you want?"

"The psychiatrist?" he laid back down steadily. "I don't know."

"She is good. But, I will have to tell her that it is time for more vigorous steps after this."

"What does she charge?"

"Nothing. Goes through our insurance as military. That is how she receives payment."

"You're kidding, surely. She's kidding. Insurance doesn't cover that!"

"She doesn't ask for money when I go in there."

"Star, insurance does not cover psychiatrists. That isn't how any of it works."

"How do you know?" I looked over at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Trust me when I say it. She is not and has not been making money off of you. That is cool of her to not charge you for your service, but, she is not benefiting. Her taking me in would take up more of her time, and that could run her out of business!"

"Why wouldn't insurance cover that?" I blinked, puzzled.

"You don't understand insurance these days, Star. Corporations choose what they want to cover you on, and what they want out of pocket for. Hell, you can break your wing, crush your hoof on a construction site, and you'll be hit with the bill later on for what they refuse to pay. Even for us. It is a privilege for the military, but there is always a catch: it's cheap, it's worthless, but they are obligated to insure everypony that enlists. That is the law."

My gaze fixed back on the white ceiling above, tinted bluish by the glow of the television that flickered as the picture constantly changed. "Man, that... I feel like shit knowing that now."

"I apologize. But, unfortunately, that is reality. I thought you should know since you didn't already."

"No, thank you, Night. Honestly, I needed to know that," I grunted out, sitting up and taking a sip of water from my bottle before continuing. "Now I just need to negotiate something with Pastel."

"How long has it been?" he shifted on to his side to look at me.

"How long?" I paused for a second, my ear twitching. "Around six months."

"Wait, wait—" he shot up, sitting with his forehooves along the edge of his bed. "You have been seeing her for six months, and you have not noticed any progress?"

I grimaced. "I wouldn't say no progress, but minuscule, more or less. She is doing significantly more than Haywalker ever did."

"Why, what did he do?" his eyebrow furrowed in question.

"Obnoxiously ask questions and offer to prescribe me medications. You know that shit never works, right?"

"Only medications? All right. Now, Pastel, what does she do?"

I eased myself down onto my pillow slowly, hooves crossed behind my head to rest on them, staring up at the ceiling once more. "She does her job. Lets me explain what there is to know, what's happened between appointments, then offers little solutions to get started. She herself said she is against prescribing pills for her patients, because she actually wants to help them."

"I feel like she actually listens to what I have to say, that she understands. She's... somepony outside of the military who can comprehend exactly how I feel. That isn't something common in society, Night. Base psychiatrists slap you with a bottle of ibuprofen and pills that numb the nerves in your mind so you stop thinking. That's what they prescribed my father before he was discharged, and you saw exactly how he acts."

"...Right," he nodded slowly, gaze falling to the floor, sighing.

"I trust her specifically because she is genuine. She sits back and examines my words, my posture, everything. What I don't say, she can make out by studying the way I sit, my hoof gestures, the tone of my voice, and so forth. You know, if she weren't a psychiatrist, you would think she was a detective previously."

"Well... if you are happy with her, I will take your word for it," Night smiled vaguely. "But, it might be the right idea to bring up the whole 'covered by your insurance' gimmick, even if it's casual. How many patients does she have?"

I shrugged slowly. "Frankly, I don't know. I've never seen anypony else other than her receptionist in there. Her office isn't in the most convenient of spaces, either. In a back alley."

"Yeah, you told me that part. Does she advertise?"

"Her assistant, the receptionist, told me she was working on it, but I've yet to see something anywhere," I sighed afterward. "Man, if I'm her only client... I can't afford to lose her advice if she closed up."

"Well, uh... hey! Six months, right?" I nodded. "She wouldn't still be open if you are her only client, especially if she doesn't receive money from your insurance."

"But she can't get much business. Not in that location..." I stopped, pondering, then a light bulb flicked on in my head. "Night, I know exactly what I can do."

***

By the end of the week, and a final, sneaky goodbye to my mother at the station who'd come out by herself while Dad was apparently napping, we were finally back in Manehattan. The sickness in me lingered still, but despite my protests to keep the others from falling to a similar fate, they stayed in the same train carriage as me on the uneventful journey back.

These past few days really brought out my abnormal desire for returning to work. In the end of our excursion, things wound up less awful than expected heading there, and my mother and I could finally begin on a fresh slate.

The trip overall, with the exception of my father's drama and catching a nasty cold off of him, it was good bonding time—even if the majority of that time was spent cooped up in a hotel room on the days I had hoped to pass at ConFest. Oh well, there is always next year, meaning a whole three-hundred and sixty-five days between now and then.

We were met with balmy summer air and a light, albeit muggy breeze once off the train and out on the streets. Thankfully we hadn't been forced to deal with Anchorage's complaining as we had back in Coltlumbus. Much to our annoyance, however, there were no carriages available to hail, leaving us no choice but to quite literally hoof it back to base.

It was still the weekend, so none of us were in any real hurry to get back. While persisting congestion in my nose continued to be a nuisance, I'd been worse prior to now. The only thing I could really use was some water, especially for the walk ahead.

With our luggage across our backs, we headed west, bent on taking a new path home, picking up some water to keep hydrated while we were at it. Evidently that bridge we'd used to get into the city back in December—the one that was incomplete with a gap between girders, forcing us to jump—now opened to traffic pony traffic after months of delay.

While slightly out of our way, and longer of a trip admittedly, we could explore parts of upper Manehattan along the way. We even passed the Urban Combat Training Center. It still to this day made no sense to put it in the city as compared to having it conveniently on base. That was apparently the fault of those in charge of zoning and planning out the space needed for Joint Base Manehattan.

Along the way, our mildly peaceful walk was soon interrupted by the shouting of newspaper colts shouting from their wooden stands along the sidewalk every other block.

"Extra, extra! Read all about it! GenTech CEO Armet Mace acquitted of authorizing illegal gem mining beneath Canterlot!"

Eventually, Ash had about enough of the yelling, storming up to one of the colts and handing over a small pile of bits.

"Here. If I give you this, will you be quiet?" he grumbled, lowering his offer before the younger pony.

The colt's eyes lit up and he snatched the coins from Ash's hoof, slapping three newspapers in exchange, before vanishing behind his stand to stash away the payment.

Returning to us, the moss stallion offered Anchorage one of the three, who declined, then to Night and I, who took one each while Ash rolled his up and tucked it away into his bag. I simply carried mine, intent on reading it later so as to not be walking and distracted and piss off anypony I might bump into. Night, on the other hoof, was digging in on the headlines.

"Whoa. No way!" Night blurted, in awe over something. Probably the gossip or entertainment section for all I knew.

Anchorage peered over, rolling his eyes, before commenting, "Hey, what about what that kid back there said?"

Night stopped, looking down and over at him briefly, before closing the paper and turning to the first page.

"Huh. He wasn't wrong. It says here, 'Famed and wealthy tech giant in controversy over cavern catastrophe'." His eyes then grew wide. "Oh ho, Celestia had something to say!"

"Oh yeah? What, did she stand behind his decision?" Anchorage scoffed, looking away.

"She said..." Night paused, clearing his throat. "These caverns are sacred, not only to our great ancestors, but to modern Equestria. They are behind what drive magic across the land and contain an expanse of knowledge not yet cracked. No business or corporation shall interfere with these natural treasures." quoting the princess of the sun.

"Huh. Well, I'll be damned," said the white pegasus, now looking genuinely surprised. "You mean to say she hasn't fallen to the will of Corporate Equestria?"

"Why would she?" my brow arched. "Her or Luna... or Twilight, or Cadence. At least they give a shit about their subjects."

"I am inclined to disagree, Star," Night chimed in. "Remember the bat ponies?"

"Vaguely."

"The lessons they give in middle and high school about the Lunar Rebellion and the Great Thestral War are fixed. Never the full story," he continued. "I wouldn't be surprised if Princess Luna still isn't aware of what happened."

"Well... yeah, but..." I paused. "No, listen, that's beyond the point. She did what was done because she had no other choice, and the reason why the truth isn't taught is because it would spark an outrage among everypony. The country would be in anarchy. Petitions and voting sessions everywhere fighting to impeach Celestia while she is helpless to defend herself and her decisions. I guarantee the alteration it is all for a good reason. Besides, foals don't need to know that stuff. They aren't old enough to understand."

"I would not call it fair to tell them one story and turn around and say something completely different later on, either," Ash added.

"All right. Ash? I gotta disagree with you there. That has always been a concept of early grades, changing the facts as the years pass. Tell me, did you even go to school?" Anchorage then stopped, facing forward, cracking a small grin. "Right, I forgot. Muscles are required, intelligence not essential."

Ash threw the pegasus a glare, slugging him in the shoulder roughly, replying with, "Never again volunteer yourself, ass!" and receiving a punch just as hard in return to the arm, though it had less effect on him than his own with Anchorage.

Night and I simply exchanged looks of confusion as the two went on, even as we begun crossing the bridge over to Bronclyn.

Author's Note

After taking longer than it should have, here's chapter 25. Mostly filler, nothing special.

26. Rites of Passage

Arc woke in a shock, gasping initially as if his breathing had ceased for a prolonged period. In the moments after catching his breath at last, he carefully studied the room he was in. Still dark, still cold, still creepy, but... different. It took him a bit longer to realize what was on him until he found that he could not move.

What ever it was that encased him, it prevented any sort of movement aside from his head. His vision clearing revealed there to be a bluish visor over his eyes attached to the helmet on his head. Styled similarly to the structure of a royal guard's headpiece, it extended down around the back of his neck to meet his shoulders, where it continued around the whole of his barrel and down his hooves, as well. The only parts of him left exposed were his ears, muzzle, and a sliver of his neck below his chin.

Evidently this 'suit' was powered, which he discovered to be the reason why he could not move freely in it, no matter his struggles. What else he knew was that Armet was successful in sticking him in this strange armor and even remembered what he had said before being knocked out. Now it was adding up.

Before his next thought could process, a crackle like that of a speaker sounded in both ears, like it was surrounding him, and the deep voice that followed. "Good evening, Arc Nobis. How are you feeling?"

He looked around himself at first, attempting to pinpoint the voice before determining it to be in his helmet. Something about the voice itself, however, was not right. It did not sound like Armet's, and it even had the slightest tinge of an accent, one he could not quite put his hoof on. Because he could not spot this pony physically, he came to the conclusion that they were both in separate rooms.

"Who are you? What is this?" he questioned, continuing to examine his surroundings.

"My name is Acrocephaly, Armet Mace's leading neurologist. I was ordered to operate on you as part of his new program. Now, how are you feeling?"

Arc's gaze danced around some more, trying to determine a way out of there. "Why am I here? What the hell am I wearing?"

"You volunteered. That is why you are here. What you are wearing is the third prototype of the first model of the AVB Enforcer-class of GenTech armor suits. I respect your bravery and dedication despite the risk, and your life sacrifice in the name of science."

"I didn't... volunteer for shit, I was brought here against my will!" Arc shouted, continuing to examine the glass surrounding him.

"I see. I understand. You are not the first to feel hesitation and remorse, and you shall not be the last. I can assure you that everything will be just fine, Arc."

As soon as the stallion finished, the whirring hum of what Arc could make out as a power source booting up had him returning his attention to the armor. Between the heavy steel plates now glowed bright blue, and he could move at last, except in a stiff manner.

He took a brief moment to fully examine what he was wearing. Beneath the armor sat a full-body compression suit of some sort that was not there prior. Before, the suit felt like he was encased in a block of cement. In his mind, he theorized that the energy source located under his stomach had remarkably altered the structural material to grant him movement, meaning if the power ran out or is destroyed, he would be trapped.

"Oh, and do not fret about becoming stuck, Second Lieutenant," said Armet in the speakers. "It is self-recharging, next to impossible to breach with conventional weapons."

Arc's eyes grew wide, darting around. "How... how do you know what I am thinking?"

"Coincidence, I suppose," Armet chuckled, hinted with sinister intent.

Immediately, Arc reached up, grabbing both sides of the helmet with his hooves and pushing upward. The lower of the piece detached easily from the rest of the suit through magnets. As he lifted the helmet up two inches, he suddenly yipped with pain, releasing the helmet and allowing it to be sucked back down by the pull of the magnets.

Pain tinged not only the sides of his head, but inside as well. Having attempted to remove the helmet felt as if there were extremely small, thin, cold needles that tugged at his brain and the skin of his temples. Along with the pain, the feeling of it sent shivers up his spine. "W-what have you done?" he panted softly.

"So, about that coincidence. I lied. The helmet you are wearing is wired directly to either hemispheres of your brain through the temporal lobe, and neurally connected to your brain stem. This routes activity from your neurotransmitters and receptors through your suit and feeds it back to us, which we can decipher on the go as your mind functions. Don't worry, the holes are sterile... for now."

"The big terms are impressive, I must admit. That does not mean I understand all of it, Armet," Arc grunted as the pain diminished.

"In short terms, we can see everything that you see and think, hear everything you hear. We are quite literally in your head."

"That's great. Now get the fuck out before I make you," Arc retorted.

"If that were even a possibility, Arc Nobis, I would not recommend such. Your suit is simultaneously wired with a 'safe mode' which, if activated through a remote switch, will subject an electric shock that will do one of the following. Either it will force you out of consciousness, it will permanently paralyze you, or it will kill you. It is as simple as that. Now, are you willing to cooperate?"

With much reluctance, the stallion eased himself just enough, this displaying in front of Armet, who then continued.

"Very good. I appreciate your compliance. Now, shall we begin test number two?"

"What is that?" Arc calmly questioned.

"Why, how tactful of you to ask, Second Lieutenant! You see—"

Arc's gaze fell slowly to meet the floor in front of him. "I am not a second lieutenant anymore."

"Oh, pity! I quite enjoy the title. Now, moving on! This program is only a two-step process. First is appliance of the armor and its acceptance of the body. The second is the body's acceptance of the suit. That comes with many tests. Are you ready to begin yours?"

***

"All right, Shooter, one-ninety-two. Please, step off now," said Davenport, scribbling on a clipboard form that he had kept close by the duration of the exam.

"One-ninety-two?!" my voice peaked with shock. The unicorn raised his hoof, motioning for me to tone it down. "Isn't that... overweight?"

The medic sailor nodded, placing the pen and clipboard on a counter. "In a way. That said, you have healthy amounts of body fat, Corporal. Your weight may consist more of muscle based on a simple visual perspective. Do you visit the gym often?" he questioned.

I blinked twice. "Not as frequently as I used to, no," shaking my head. "I wouldn't exactly say that I am inactive, though."

"Oh, heavens, no. If that were the case, I would know as soon as I laid eyes on you," smiled the white-coated unicorn. "It is imperative to retain an active lifestyle and eat healthily, but, you are already aware." His look transformed into one of inquiry. "Are you unhappy with your weight?"

I hopped back up onto the exam table. "It was a bit surprising. But, if you insist nothing is abnormal, I will take your word for it."

Davenport nodded, taking the pen and jotting down a bit more. With how fast he writes with his magic, I am more surprised that the clipboard did not already have a hole burned through it.

When he reached the bottom of the page after a few brief pauses to go over what was written, he clicked the pen's button and levitated both it and the clipboard, turning to me with a smile.

"All right. I will be right back so we can move along with the drug screening!" he said, heading out, closing the door.

That wasn't anything to be concerned about. There have been so many previously that I've had to take. All it was is a plastic tube and a cotton swab that they dab around my mouth to collect saliva samples and send it in to a lab. I knew for a fact that drugs, legal or not, weren't in my system.

What had me worried the most was the possibility of more shots. Sure, it was less urgent for the fact that this appointment is meant to be a pre-deployment screening and not me rushing over after a rat bite to make sure I don't have rabies, like my last visit here.

It hadn't been more than a minute when the door reopened and Davenport removed a small white stick rounded off with a gentle cotton, discarding the plastic bag it and the tube were stored in.

"You know the procedure," he smiled, levitating the swab a few inches from my muzzle.

I parted my maw widely, allowing for him to wipe around every nook and cranny he needed—in reality, the roof of my mouth and beneath my tongue. Only about two or three seconds before he placed the swab in the tube and capped it off to prevent contamination.

"A bit of forewarning, Doc, I don't think you will find anything but saliva on that thing," I remarked with a grin.

"I would hope not," he replied with a similar smirk, disappearing back out the door again to deliver the sample to the lab upstairs, once more initiating a temporary wait for the next step of the screening, and mildly re-inflating the worry of needing shots sooner or later.

It all varied on where specifically we were heading this time around. Previous deployments brought us out to a region of the ocean and looped us back around to Manehattan. The possibility of actually sailing somewhere and making port existed, but according to many, that was unlikely. Usually in times of conflict where ships are then moved to a certain region if necessary, and with venturing to another land came the risk of sickness, bringing my thoughts around full circle.

Speaking of previous deployments, this upcoming one would mark my fourth since enlistment. Fourth! But two of those three times we were forced to make an early turn towards home. This time, however, it seemed we would not have to be concerned about any severe weather. At least, I hoped not, because I am sure as hell not boarding another damn ship that cannot handle its own.

No, for once, I had good vibes. Alas, the crew briefing is later on this week anyways. Whatever our objective is and how long we will be at sea is due to be revealed in the powerpoint. Something has to be out there for the higher-ups to vote on it. Of course, knowing this adds a little bit of tension to the thought. I understood the chances all too well, especially after my second time underway. Those risks lived each and every time, whether it be the smallest of accidents, or an intentional act of war.

There had been political tension overseas for quite some time now. To our relief, it never truly escalated anywhere above a figurative staring contest between Equestria and Ajerstan, and a few other nations in that general direction. Talks of the situation simmered down on base between Marines as time went on. Then it was mostly sailors expressing their concern of what a war would be like against Ajerstan and its allied neighbor, Foscovia.

Seeing as both were significantly smaller as compared to some place such as East Griffonia, or the Undivided Kingdom, likeliness is a war might not last long, and especially not end in their favor compared to Equestria's firepower alone. That is only assuming none of our allies step up to our aid.

In all reality, though, war is a terrifying concept as it is. The one in Manehattan over five months ago was more than enough to support that fact, especially now where I am still struggling to leave it all behind. Worst part of it all, we were not even fighting an established army. Just a rather large band of exiles who believed they could take an entire city and kill as many innocents as they please.

Then again, the damage was done. Even though not all of them made it to shore to be wiped out by us anyways, those that did threw the country into a temporary tailspin. It raised question as to why it was not prevented. My friends and I were the only few to show force the day it began as far as on the ground, up until the few thousand or more hurried back from Baltimare, where belief was that the Constitution would attack. The diversion worked too well and everypony knows that.

And there were ponies that died. Civilians and military. One of whom was my friend, and he died far too young. It should not have happened. None of it. We were all caught off guard as horridly as the changeling attacks in Canterlot during the Royal Wedding. Now I just hope that should it happen again, big or small, we will all be prepared. I crave that assurance one day.

"All right, Shooter! Hate to tell ya, buuuut, you're in for one today. It will be quick, I promise!" Davenport said with a warm smile, drawing a small syringe from his pocket in a magical grasp.

How lovely.

***

Later on that evening, I went to the usual meeting place in one of the base's offices where Shadow had ordered us to gather. A few days prior, before my checkup with Davenport, the mess hall stood in place to occupy the hundreds to be informed of the upcoming deployment. Only a tiny portion of those sailors—primarily ones stationed on the bridge, including myself—were requested to this briefing.

I met up with a couple others in the hall before continuing to the room somewhat early. In there we found the senior chief and Shadow in conversation. With salutes, we silently entered, collected booklets for each of us to go over, and took our seats while we waited for the rest to fill in.

Discussions were mostly casual going around the room. This was one of those lovely times where superiors dropped their terrifying mask and became civilians, talking about life and other things in between. I kept quiet for the most part other than to respond to a question or chime in on something I knew about and not make myself look stupid in front of the others.

Over the course of a few minutes, the rest of the bridge crew trickled in, including Vernon and Sea Watch, among a couple of other chiefs. Most of these ponies I did not see the majority of the time because they had opposite shifts. Some of them worked down below in the operations room, or in flight control, so these meetings were the only instances I ever see them.

Eventually the talk died down and things turned serious. Formality took over. Six minutes past the time to begin the briefing, everypony settled down and focused on the captain as the final sailor entered.

"All right. I hope everypony has collected their briefing manuals and has them open to the opening page—"

"Wait! Wait! I'm here!" came a voice hurrying down the hall. Everyone turned their attention to the window looking out into the hall and to the door as a unicorn sailor came to a skidding halt at the doorway.

Upon entry, the stallion was panting heavily, moving a lot slower as he grabbed his own book from a table. The longer I took, the wider my eyes grew, likely to the size of saucer pans by now.

"Better late than never, eh, Petty Officer?" Shadow commented with resent in his tone, watching him closely as he then took a seat beside me. "Do not bother with excuses as we were only just beginning."

"Yes. Of course. My apologies, Captain," the unicorn responded as he removed his cover and placed it on the table, flipping open the folder-like book and turning his attention to Shadow, neglecting to take notice of the utter shock and puzzlement that grew on my face with each passing second.

"On that note, I would like to formally introduce Petty Officer Silver Edge, recently transferred from the Marines to third class," Shadow gestured toward him. "He is the newest addition to our little... circle, so to speak. Although we will not be on the ship for another week, welcome aboard, Silver."

In the dark of the room, it was hard to make out his faint blush. "Thank you, sir. It is an honor."

"The honor is mine, Petty Officer," Shadow nodded his head to him. "Now, listen up, mares and gentlecolts. Canterlot is adamant that we resume our mission from last time. As it turns out, the pinpointed signals have shifted further east. However, we will not be tracking down all of them. Orders are that we must locate at least two and find out what these signals may be."

At the press of a button on his opened laptop, a projector on the ceiling mirrored the image onto a rolling screen on the wall, displaying a map of shipping routes and predicted weather patterns, as well as eleven marked points forming a bow-like shape across the ocean.

One by one, Shadow tapped his hoof over each of the epicenter markers in red. "These are our objectives. Intelligence reports that they come and go every other day and that being in the general vicinity should have us pick something up on frequencies. The issue is, we still do not know which frequency to use for extra assurance, because no one currently understands the wavelengths. Not from this distance, that is. Which is why we are being shipped out to investigate... again."

His eyes fixed on the communications officer, Vernon. "I see that grin of yours, Petty Officer. Before you ask, yes, this is where you will come in. You are our best option as far as figuring out signals goes. That is your assignment for when the time comes. Operations will call in if you are needed below deck."

Smiling ear-to-ear, the plum purple-coated unicorn understandingly nodded. "Aye, Captain."

"As for the mission, it is not under wraps ship-wide, mind you. Everypony will be informed either prior to or as we leave port. So, if one of your fellow shipmates asks "hey, what are we doing out here this time?", feel free to fill them in," Shadow continued.

"Like anything else, however, I am obligated to remind you all that what we do is none of the public's business. So, no phoning home your loved ones or chirping updates of what is going on. I know my crew well enough to assure myself that will not happen," he added. A few quiet chuckles went around the room.

"So, orders are plain and simple. We treat this deployment like any ordinary one. But, as usual, we must be prepared in case it hits the screws. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, Captain," we replied collectively.

Shadow nodded once. "Excellent. I expect no less of you," shifting attention to the enlisted beside him. "Senior Chief, would you care to do the honors?"

"Of course, Captain," Tacimo stood up, clearing his throat. "All right. So. We are to be accompanied by a portion of the Lunar Fleet, much like last time so we may cover more surface area. Each ship has a task of their own to locate these 'beacons', as we are referring them as."

"As far as air support goes, we shall be occupying the Airborne Early Warning team on board, as well as the Silver Diamond flight squadron. Both will be performing their duties as our eyes from above." He then paused as one sailor raised her hoof. "Yes?"

"Sir, please excuse my interruption, but it is to my knowledge that the Silver Diamonds are reserved for times of conflict and specialize in aerial warfare, as well as the Airborne Early Warning squadron if there is a viable threat at sea or if surveillance of a region is ordered," she remarked, before asking, "Are we going after someone, Chief?"

Some in the room exchanged looks, too beginning to ask the same question as her. Up until this point, I had no clue what the Silver Diamonds' purpose was. Almost immediately after, the senior chief let off a friendly chuckle.

"Lemoore, I can assure you right this second that what it is that they will be doing is completely routine and there is no cause for alarm. They simply serve as aerial aid in our mission, so to speak," he confidently answered.

Despite the surety in Tacimo's response, there were a few of us to detect to the captain's notable scorn regarding both the mare's question and the answer given. Silver darted his eyes over to me for a moment, but I was too honed in on the senior chief to notice.

The greenish-grey earth pony stood behind him proceeded to move around him and take the reigns. "Petty Officer, if your concern is that we are heading to war, what Senior Chief Tacimo is trying to say that I can also confirm is, no, we are not. As stated before, we are to treat this deployment as any other. As of right now, there is no present danger to Equestria that we must take action in to prevent."

"Yes, precisely," Tacimo added, swiping away a strand of his mane that had fallen in front of his eye with his hoof. "As such, come next Monday, I expect each and every one of you on the pier at 0600, bright and early. Even if you are one millisecond behind schedule, you are punishing everypony! Is that clear?"

Like before, each of us responded in unison, "Yes, Chief!"

"Perfect." Shadow then nodded, pressing a button on a hoof-held remote and switching the slide displayed. "Moving on..."

***

Bloodcurdling screams filled the room, followed by pained grunts, and a loud thump as the stallion's hooves gave out from underneath him. He gritted his teeth and tightly held his eyelids closed as an agonizing sting ripped through his head. Plates of his armor rattled quietly in the vibrating motion of his body as it trembled with weakness.

The shock finally ceased, letting him slowly recollect his thoughts and manage to get himself back up on all fours. His chest heaved with every deep breath, heart pounding relentlessly within and threatening to burst. Even it was beginning to hurt along with the surging aches that channeled throughout every square inch of his body spreading from his head down.

"Tell me, Arc. Just how long do you plan on resisting? There is no use in it. Your struggles will not last forever," echoed a deep voice in his helmet, the words slightly distorted by the confused state he slowly recovered from.

Panting, the stallion's lids reopened to reveal bloodshot purple irises surrounded with red and puffiness caused by the mental and physical strain endured for hours upon hours of torture. "L-long enough until you are convinced to finally kill me."

"Kill you?" the voice chuckled, no longer fuzzy in his head. "Oh, no. No. You, Arc Nobis, you are too precious of an asset to terminate. You are precisely what I have been searching for all these months."

"Just... fucking... kill me!" Arc desperately screamed, bringing down his hoof powerfully. Enhanced by the armor trapping him inside, the force buckled the tile beneath and spread cracks in all directions surrounding his hoof.

"You see that? Prime example of your potential. Just imagine what you could do to your enemies. They will not stand a chance!"

He threw himself down onto his haunches, shaking with fury, despair, and fear not for himself, but for the harm he could do. He realized by now that there was no escape for him and his protests only delayed one of two inevitable possibilities.

"I... won't... let you... do this!" Arc grunted out, head dipping and teeth clenching again. "Please... don't do this."

From the control console he stood in front of, monitoring the stallion's vitals and everything in between, Armet Mace grew a sinister grin on his muzzle at his captive's sudden plea, followed by a low nicker. "What's this? The Marine is begging for mercy?"

One press of a button had Arc flat on the floor, writhing in pain as another electric shock stunned him, administered through needles in the suit's helmet that penetrated his skull and settled into his brain. While not strong enough to cause permanent damage, each dose steadily weakened him. It was only a matter of time.

A few painful moments later, he was back up, only held by his forehooves that trembled and once more threatened to give way. The anger inside him went unmasked, even as he stared forward in a room of test dummies propped up and dressed with the heaviest of combat gear. He could not see Armet, but he knew he was there, observing, waiting his next move, and vice versa.

27. Setting the Sail

My eyes opened wide as adrenaline abruptly coursed throughout my body. For a moment, I was blinded by the bright of day, staring skyward at an ocean of blue, growing lighter in hues surrounding the sun that held high above. Very few clouds floated about, and the air was warm. It smelled of burning metal and cloth, and... flesh?

I threw myself into an upright position off of the dusty ground and examined my surroundings attentively. Remains of stone and wood littered the unpaved street. Two shops beside one another were missing enormous chunks along the upper portions of their second floors and roofs, where small fires crackled faintly inside them in a few of the rooms exposed by an impact force of some sort.

In the midst of the destruction sat severely-battered remains of a helicopter fuselage, its main rotors still somehow rotating ever so gradually with the blades either trimmed down from having struck the buildings it came smashing through, or were lodged into a wall, or broken and hanging from the engine stem. The tail section sheered itself off completely and sat upside down through a house window, where a gaping hole had been formed as a result. Smoke billowed from the hole and any other opening in the structure, but there was no other sign of a fire.

Rolling over and pushing myself to my hooves, I peered back toward the wreckage, honing in for a brief moment to take it all in. I could not believe my eyes the longer I stared, soon finding more than just the destruction to be on the ground. Both pilots sat perfectly lined up beside each other, flat with their faces down on the ground, both with bullet holes in the backs of their cracked helmets. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't only the pilots...

What I previously thought to be just pieces of the chopper was instead something far more sinister. More uniformed bodies—some charred beyond recognition—lined along the side of the helicopter or were strewn about, left behind after an altercation. All suffered a similar fate: a single bullet to the head.

My hooves grew weak and I collapsed, turning myself to face away from the horrid sight. I began to gasp for air as if I were choking, but it was hyperventilation. I couldn't catch the breath I needed to keep my composure, let alone the courage to get a closer examination. What I hoped to keep far from my mind was the possibility that my friends were among the casualties.

I found myself staring at the dirt I pressed against, hooves tucked close to my chest and digging into the dusty surface. With each heavy breath, my sight grew blurry with each attempt to desperately focus on something. A pebble, a granule of sand, anything other than what should not have been there.

Then, it hit me. My gaze lifted a few inches, still fixed on the ground in front of me, but my breathing calmed in that instance. Above the somewhat calming whistle of a breeze and the rolling of rock bits and pieces pushed about at its will, it was as if somepony could drop a pin. For a war zone, it was far too tranquil.

I heard a voice in my head say, "This... isn't real." It was my voice, preceding my own realization on the situation unfolding. My heart still quivered and a crushing tightness gripped my chest, yet I was calm, collected. "You aren't here. You are home. This is a dream."

With a meager bit of strength mustered from the revelation that allowed me to regain control over my body, I pressed myself up steadily. My uniform was covered in tan and grey from the dust that collected on it, something I hadn't noticed before this moment because it wasn't important. The edges of the collars were tattered, scraped off by a skidding impact on gravel that knocked me unconscious. Perhaps I was thrown from the helicopter when it came down. Somehow the only damage done by the gravel was on parts of my clothing and heavy gear. Without it, I may as well be walking skin and exposed meat.

But this was not reality. I knew I was home. In Manehattan, safe in my bed in the same dorm as Nightpath where I last remembered. Is this what it is like to become self-aware in dreams?

Then, I jumped, taken by surprise when a sharp metallic streak whisked past my ear. It moved so quickly that it had probably gone by long before the noise, and it flew so close that the lingering heat from it firing radiated and singed strands of fur and a pebble-sized patch of skin for a split second, and that is what startled me. There was no pop of a gun firing to warn me otherwise. Nevertheless, it yielded a fine reason to rush for the nearest corner and dive into it for cover. Reality or not, I am certainly not about to take chances with my life, especially knowing the pain can easily be felt regardless.

The weapon I had on me laid somewhere in the chaotic scene. Perhaps it didn't even survive the crash, or I dropped it in the impact and it wound up in the wrong pony's hooves. Or they presumed I was deceased and came and took it. Memory wasn't in my favor for the time being, nor were the prospects of escaping this place alive.

I threw myself completely up on my hinds and propped up against a wall, shadowed by the adjacent structure shielding this alleyway, not that I could properly camouflage myself with the uniform I wore or the natural color of my coat anyways. Not in daylight, that is. Whose marvelous idea was this to give us dark uniforms in the bright of the afternoon?

In the few moments after taking cover, a minuscule bit of confidence raised inside that I was safe for now. I recognized that would not be the case for very long, not out here. Whoever it was that shot us down was clearly nearby. I hadn't a clue where, but I knew they were somewhere, watching, listening, waiting for my next move.

Perchance it was merely my apprehension of the realm trapping my thoughts, understanding that this was, after all, just a dream, so I knew exactly what was going on around me. It felt bizarre to be in control for once despite the overbearing yet sedating sense it provided. Maybe it is a sign of improvement, that the war is finally in my favor. It sparked inquiry as to why this change has come.

I picked up the muffled thumps of hooves on dirt approaching rapidly from my right. Before any reaction could be made to turn and look, a powerful lash to the shoulder by something long, hard, and metallic forced me to the ground. I flailed immediately in alarm, hoping one of my hooves might cuff the assailant somewhere. That didn't happen. Instead I found myself being towed by the rear of my collar, the lower of my body scraping along the ground roughly until I fell flat on my back where I had first come to.

My breath quickened as adrenaline kicked back in, boosted by sudden fear that took a deadly hold and refused to let go. Thoughts raced by too fast for me to comprehend as I scrambled to roll over and stand back up, only to be forced into the dirt by a hoof pressing itself onto my chest. The gear I wore hampered the ability to squirm, and what I could certainly was not enough to escape whoever had me pinned. Looking straight up, my eyes met the cold, sinister gaze of a masked stallion, dressed in what appeared to be old, raggedy combat clothing.

"This... this isn't real, Star. This isn't real! You're dreaming!" I vocally insisted to myself with a shaky breath, and was no longer just a voice in my head. The stallion didn't react other than to raise his other hoof in signal to observant others in the surrounding buildings, before he took his rifle by the barrel and raised it like a baseball bat in the air.

I begged and pleaded, repeating to myself in a growing panic that this was just a dream. With each passing moment, I began to think otherwise, up until the butt of the figure's rifle came swinging at full force and cracked into my jaw.

A strong blow to the cheek threw my head to the side and I shot up onto my elbows, chest heaving. It didn't take long to figure out that it was my own hoof that slapped me to wake myself up. I couldn't be more thankful that it did to save me from that nightmare, but now I was in pain from having hit so hard. Ow.

A sudden pressure on my chest compelled me to immediately look down, finding it to be my other hoof gripping over my heart and watching the faint twitch of it in rhythm with my pulse. Sweat slicked my forehead and down both my back and chest, the sheets on my bed now drenched where I laid.

My chin dipped a couple inches and a deep sigh dribbled out of my maw, though quiet while Night continued to sleep soundly, wrapped up like a burrito in his own blankets and snoring pleasantly. A sight such as that never failed to bring a chuckle out of me, or at least a smile. It was relieving to say the least.

I eased myself slowly, wings shifting with a brief shiver running up my spine when my back touched the sweat-dampened material. Each time I would move in the slightest way, the sheets clung to my back unless I peeled them off. That made the first thing to put on the list when we come back: strip the bed and wash everything!

What areas of the bed that had not been drenched simply were not large enough of a space to lay comfortably in. Then again, the idea of those in charge of furnishing these dormitories didn't include beds to occupy two ponies per, meaning there wasn't another side I could slide over to, thus trapping me with the hardly-tolerable wet sensation.

Tired, half-lidded eyes that itched of drowsiness stared directly at the dark ceiling. Only a sliver of orange from a lamp outside stretched through the window between curtains. Faint and blurry little grey spots dotted along it, a few of which rolling gradually in an uneven pace down the smooth glass surface before reaching the end.

Outside our window whistled a breeze as it whipped between our building and the one beside it, the nearly-undetectable low roar of rain on the roof, and the gentle pitter-patter of droplets on the window sill made up for the normally-silent ambience of our dorm this time of night. It makes for a soothing atmosphere actually, one that is appropriate for sleeping. At any rate I expected to be back in a slumber in no time. But that never happened.

In fact, the longer I lay there motionless, the further alert I became, and eventually it turned both frustrating and exhausting to the point where I reached over to our shared desk that doubled as a nightstand and picked up my new phone to check the time, flipping it right side-up in my hoof and pressing a button on top that lit up the screen. The sudden brightness of it shining on my face made me wince heavily and I squinted hard enough to where somepony might believe my eyes were closed should they notice.

The time displayed on the lock screen in huge numbering read thirteen past four in the morning in typical twelve-hour format. I still needed to change that to twenty-four hour format, wherever the setting may be. Perhaps Anchorage would know where to find it, or somepony I knew.

We needed to be out the door a ways before 0600 and be at the ship at that time precisely. At least, I had to be. I'm not so sure about Night seeing how he is not bridge crew. Knowing now that it is raining brought a groan out of me, though soft enough to prevent waking my roommate. Assuming it ceases by that time—which was far too unlikely—there would still be mud everywhere, stuff that collects on your hooves and clothing.

I can't help but feel for the sailors, though, seeing as they always donned their dress uniforms today. Their whites, especially. We weren't required to for the sole fact that Marines played less of a role on ships and also don't ever stand out on the flight deck when the ship leaves port, which probably made some or most sailors envy us as such.

I tried laying down once more, shifting around or rolling over every once in a while to find a new sweet spot to doze off in for at least another half hour before it will be time to get showered, get dressed, and head out. No time for breakfast. Man, another deployment so soon. All I can think about is what's to come in the weeks ahead.

Risk aside, the sense developed when stepping hoof on such a mighty machine worth tens of thousands of tons of steel and wiring every time never ceased to send a cold chill up my spine. Not due to the eerie, tingling feeling of being a part of a warship, but the grasp of being in its presence. Hearing the roar of its three main engines come to life and the vibration it sends upon startup, the groan of steel as it slices through even the most violent of surf, as well as watching jets be catapulted off the flight deck and be caught by hook wire as they land all at the same time is enough to send an under-powered enemy running for the high hills.

Any ship sailed by the former Equestrian Navy and the current Lunar Navy accomplished wonders, both in the defense industry and the overall nautical community. Sure, they weren't nearly as luxurious as most modern cruise liners or airships (if those even still exist), but damn, there is no denying how powerful they are.

That's one thing I am proud of myself about; that I can say I have served and are serving on the Eclipse. Seeing as it is currently the only carrier in the Lunar Fleet as of right now and the title of its own class of carriers, few can say similar. It had been brought to my understanding that Equestria used to have four carriers. Smaller than the Eclipse, that's for sure, but they were around. Two were lost in the last major war with East Griffonia, one with an almost full-crew loss, and the third was sunk in a century storm. Due to low demand for an advanced military and funding cuts, there never truly was talk of building new ships.

That all changed when Luna came back, reformed and rebuilt, and took the helm of what we now call the New Lunar Republic. She wanted a powerful military, and boy, did she create just that. Then, like the royal guards that you see around Canterlot during the day or at night, the uniforms of the Navy and Marines vary from the Army and Air Force as far as colors go. The latter sticks with lighter colors, whilst we go for darker shades. Then again, the Navy has always had their uniforms, and us Marines only stand out because our camouflage is two tones of grey instead of blue.

I suppose it makes sense as to why half or more of all ponies around Equestria don't use 'Lunar' when referring to our titles. They either call us Marines or sailors, like soldiers and airponies. Many prefer the original way, and that I can understand. Just like how Lieutenant Snow Storm has his thoughts on how basic training has changed over the years. I don't have any preference as long as somepony does not ask what the difference is between branches around me.

Speaking of the lieutenant, he must be elsewhere on an assignment. Haven't seen him for a minute to say the least, and he is typically not a reclusive one around base. He had a say in my promotion a short while ago evidently, but no sign of him anywhere. I'm not about to question it for his and my sake, especially since most of what he and his platoon do is classified anyhow and is best kept that way.

As more dull, uneventful minutes ticked on by without any further occurrence and the likelihood of falling back asleep diminishing, I released another smaller sigh and threw the covers off my lower half and maneuvered out of bed as quietly as can be, easing first my hind legs followed by my forehooves to the carpet, where they sunk under the weight of my body placing pressure on them. Taking one glance over my shoulder to my roommate to make sure he hadn't woken up because of me and breathing a silent breath of relief, I soundlessly continued to the kitchen.

For somepony as far from being a bat pony as I am, the ability to see properly in the dark wound up a trait of mine going back to my colt years. On the contrary, it only seemed to work under calm conditions. A stressful environment distorted any born ability I had—which, in reality, were not that many.

Normally I would wait until I am on the ship to have coffee, especially early in the morning before dawn. But, that was still just under two hours off, possibly three if that is when we are due to depart. With that, I grabbed a tub of hazelnut-cherry coffee grounds and filled our machine with them and water, before pressing the switch that begun brewing.

My maw widely parted to yawn, only for it to come out silent as an exhale while my gaze lowered to the coffee pot as brown watery drops trickled down and began to collect at the bottom. It would be at least a few minutes before it will be fully brewed, not that time mattered right this minute. I had all of it in the world.

It wasn't very long until the kitchen filled with the wonderful scent as the pot steadily replenished, the machine emanating a barely-detectable hum while it went to work. Over the course of a five minutes, it surpassed the half-line printed onto the side face of the glass next to the handle.

Our maker was not the fastest in its job, not that either of us cared, because it served its purpose. Actually, Night preferred cafe-bought coffee over homemade anyway. Once in a while though he didn't mind a cup to enjoy at home. Few ponies I knew did. Hell, few around here don't run on coffee day in and day out. Exhausting shifts that can last for up to twelve or thirteen hours a day calls for caffeine to keep one alert and running smoothly. It is just part of the way I am, that is.

I decided I would no longer wait and headed for the bathroom to shower, and when I come out, the pot should be full and ready for consumption. I am certainly going to need it to get the day started and tide me over until we leave port.

My hoof reached past the curtain and took hold of the handle, twisting it and starting the flow of water through the shower head. I kept that hoof held under the frigid drizzle until it warmed, before stepping carefully inside. The entirety of my mane lost its form as soon as the water hit it, laying flat atop my head and even covering over my eyes, prompting me to wipe it out of the way with a hoof.

I rotated myself under the water to wet down every inch of my body from head to hoof, taking a bottle of shampoo afterward and running it through my mane until it transformed completely to suds, before rinsing it out thoroughly.

While I did, leaving my eyes closed during the time, I went into thought. Since the second briefing ten days ago, no one had spotted Silver anywhere. Some of us thought he might have moved dorms, or his shifts have changed to where no one can catch him at the right time. He seemed to have been in a hurry after the briefing because he was one of the first out of the room and gone by the time I made it out into the hallway without a clue of where he had gone.

None of it added up. Although, I suppose, nothing anymore did. The earthquakes, the signals at sea, the second lieutenant going completely bat-shit crazy, and now Silver, who is a sailor now? What the hell is going on? Surely this is all just a terrible, puzzling nightmare where there is no opposite to the equal sign.

If I can track him down when it comes time to head out to the ship, perhaps I can finally talk then. I imagine his transfer was occupied with countless consequences as far as a workload goes. That would involve a change of rates altogether and the training necessary to carry out newly-assigned tasks. If that is his excuse, I will buy it. My question is just why.

At some point after the last of the soap slithered down my hooves to the floor and down the drain, the water briefly surged a colder temperature, throwing me from contemplation for now. With heavy thought comes the rapid passing of time. Evidently I have been thinking long enough to where we were running out of warm water. That, or our dorm's heating tank was going out of commission, which would not surprise me in the least.

With that, I hastily finished up and dried off, and was now thirsty for caffeine. Upon carrying my towel out and leaving it in a basket beside the fridge, I took aim straight for the coffee pot that now sat full to the brim, releasing steaming through the lid hole. I poured myself a cup and took a spoonful of sugar to mix in, before raising the mug to my lips and cautiously slurping up a small sip into my mouth.

Undoubtedly was it scorching hot and it burned the tip of my tongue upon first contact, but there was no hesitation with the second swig I took that ended up with a larger gulp than the first. I craved this to fully wake myself so early, and boy, was my yearn quenched. Had I not woken in a shock, I would still be in bed for another thirty or so minutes, or until whenever Night wakes up to get himself organized, and without question I would not be standing here enjoying a fine, scalding beverage like I am now. So, a plus for that, I guess.

Him and I had already packed our bags the evening prior, so that was out of the way thankfully. All that is left is to resume cleaning up, get dressed, then lock up for the month. Simple enough. Knowing he will wake to his own alarm dealt reassurance that we aren't to be late in any way, shape, or form. At least, I will not be. Again, he is not truly required at the pier for another hour after me, though it wouldn't be much of a surprise if him or the tens of hundreds of sailors start gathering ahead of schedule, either to please their superiors or spend a little extra time with friends and family by the ship.

Mom was informed fairly soon after the announcement came, and while I understood her reasoning behind being unable to drop by for goodbyes, I knew we could keep in touch one way or another during deployment. Above all else, though, I made my request quite clear that Dad is to not find out for her sake and my own because, frankly, it is none of his business. Hell, he probably isn't even aware that we have been texting each other back and forth, and to keep that tradition will be splendid.

For Mom, though, as a matter of fact, it felt tremendously relieving knowing I can at last properly communicate with her and hear what each other have to say, something I have desired for years even before I abandoned them. It continued to pain my core realizing the hurt she suffered through the day she discovered the letter on my bed.

Looking back on it, I only now fully comprehend the undeserving emotional stress that mounted on her since then, all caused by me. No, she was not worthy of such treatment on my part—far from, even, and it evokes some of the greater remorse that lingers today as consequence to my desperation of escape back then. Now came the obligation I felt more than ever to keep her filled in on my new life and compensate for the five years of inappropriate neglect dealt in response to the rage and resent I bore and strictly refuse ceasing to carry the seething envy that one pony, and one pony only truly merits: my father.

The truth is, I still loved her, and I never stopped loving her as a mother like I shouldn't have, even though I went about living life with the belief that she knelt to his bidding because her feelings were mutual to his, as opposed to the reality of things where she does so to retain a comfortable home, whether or not her life is made miserable because of him. Frankly, I do not know how she has tolerated him for this long, though I can imagine after our recent encounter that it will not be the case for very long.

It couldn't have been more than a couple minutes later when the creaking motion of a bed caught my attention, followed soon after by a set of heavy hooves thumping on the bedroom carpet. These thumps transitioned to clops on cheap tile flooring as Night strolled nonchalantly into the kitchen and saw me with baggy eyelids.

A tired smile crept across the brown draft stallion's face, his lids lazily blinking. "Hey, Star. Didn't think you were up so early," he said in a hushed, sleepy voice, pushing a strand of his messy mane away from his eye.

"I didn't think you would be too. Didn't hear your alarm," I replied softly in respect to the colt's groggy state.

He chuckled the most drowsy of laughs and rubbed one of his eyes. "Still a bit early. I smelled hazelnut-cherry and woke up."

I took a step to the side, making way for him just in case. One does not stand between a stallion and his coffee. Or is the saying just a lieutenant or chief and his coffee? "There's more than enough for the two of us."

His smile retained, and he resumed to the pot, still extremely plentiful of fresh coffee that continued to emanate vapor from its radiating heat that would scald to the touch. Night grabbed a plain mug from a cabinet, holding it in one hoof while he took the pot handle in the other, putting much care into pouring it without missing the mug entirely and creating a mess.

After a few small sips, he became a bit more functional and coherent. We stood around and talked until it was time for him to hop in the shower. While the water ran, the curtain parted and he stepped inside, and immediately after I caught the girliest of squeals that had me suddenly throwing my mug down on the counter so I wouldn't drop it. I covered my mouth with a hoof, silently laughing it out with chubby cheeks full of coffee before I could finally swallow and not choke over it. That would suck majorly to die right this second over something completely unrelated.

Night was only in there about a minute and a half before the water shut off and he stepped out shivering. By the time he exited the bathroom, he shot a glare of icy daggers in my direction as his mane still dripped damp flat on his head. I nickered quietly behind my hoof and wiped off the humor when he returned.

"So, that answers that about the water tank," I commented with a guiltless grin, having failed to disperse the amusement by merely glancing at him. His eyebrow arched and I put up my hooves in innocence.

"You are entertained by that, huh? I'll make sure to shower first next time," Night added coldly as he dropped off his towel and returned to the bathroom. "You will get the last laugh!"

I suppose I will. He was a pony of his word a year ago, so that would not amaze me in the least. And I'll be trapped with him on the same ship for five weeks.

***

Under a light drizzle with the only light guiding us being lamp posts along street paths, Night and I hurried out to the pier with fifteen to spare before 0600. Our covers provided a bit of protection around our eyes and hair from the rain, but not the whole of our faces, and our uniforms fended off the droplets quite nicely thanks to the light waterproofing infused with the material. Had it been a downpour, however, that would be another story.

As usual for this time of morning, Joint Base Manehattan remained eerily vacant for the most part. Those with overnight-oriented rates made up the majority of the few out and about. Only a couple others here and there were on their way to the boat with us judging by their sea bags.

Upon arriving at the dock where the Eclipse was moored up against, we found the entry method had been altered. Instead of walkways sloping vertically up to hatches on the hull of the carrier, a temporary structure now stood on the pier aligned with the ship's aircraft elevator, which was lowered and led straight into the hangar bay.

The former mode of boarding made less sense, candidly. Narrow bridge-like walkways that could only fit one at a time, and if somepony stopped, the whole line is held up behind them. All in all, it meant less time spent waiting for the last sailor to walk the bridge and seal the hatch and will make for less stressful first days and pre-departure checks.

There were already tens of finely-dressed mares and stallions scattered about in no particular formation, and about twice as many civilian ponies who have come to witness their loved ones sail off for the next five weeks into dangers unknown.

It left a tiny bit of heartache in my chest knowing neither my mother nor Ray could be here, though I had known for weeks in advance that would be the situation. Some time after we leave, I am hoping to at least catch Ray's number on a Whynnie call so I am no longer reliant on the ship's amenities or forms of communication, especially now that I had a mobile phone to myself. That is still what shocks me to learn that it is not against regulation to have them on board as opposed to what I had been informed of, that using a phone for personal use could lead to security issues.

If I wasn't so damn preoccupied on these deployments, I might just take advantage of what the Eclipse has to offer like what the rest of my buddies seem to do when they aren't busy with what duties they employ. This included recreational compartments such as a gym, a television lounge or the traditional game room, a convenience store, and the less-interesting facilities such as the barber for those keen on keeping themselves well groomed.

Most civilians might be dumbfounded to hear all what an aircraft carrier provides as far as blowing off steam. I certainly was on my first go whenever I wasn't puking my guts out from seasickness.

We came to a halt somewhere in the middle of everypony, where Night is to stay put until 0700, boarding time. Without sighting Anchorage, Ash, or Silver for some time, I turned to him with discernible repentance. "I would hate to leave you out here, but I'm afraid I cannot stick around. I am needed on the ship before boarding."

Night's ears pinned back in disappointment. "Aw..." his chin lowered, along with his saddened gaze.

I gave him a reassuring smile and reached up to pat him on the shoulder. "Hey. We'll be racking together like always. Nothing to be concerned about."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he returned a small, genuine smile. "You go on ahead. I don't want to keep you from your duties."

I nodded, turning to walk toward the boarding platform. "Catch you on the flip side, Night."

"Likewise," he replied with a single nod, watching me leave from where he waited for the others to arrive.

My path took me through the tent-like open structure that covered up to the hangar bay, crossing by hopping across the rather hazardous five-inch gap between the cement of the dock and the steel of the ship's aircraft elevator that led straight into the hangar bay, only partially occupied by jets and helos shimmering proudly in their grey hues beneath the brightly-luminescent ceiling spotlights.

Carrying my bag across my back, I made my way to a staircase that led below deck to the crew compartments and to our assigned berthing to drop off my belongings on a claimed rack. Once done, I headed straight back out and up to the bridge where I needed to be.

A few sailors already on board carrying out last-minute checks gave greeting nods in my direction as we passed each other in the corridors, garnering one from myself in return. Only a couple of minutes spent on the ship, and the mildly refreshing, distinctive scent of steel, grease, and extremely faint asbestos sent a wave of relaxation to ease my tense muscles. It is peculiarly yet tremendously grand to walk aboard the Eclipse's finely-polished floors once more.

It won't be long until we raise anchor and haul ass east to kick off another fine month at sea.

28. Overboard

The first full day of being underway is always the most fun. Why? Because it is cleaning day, of course! This is the day where virtually everypony on the ship takes up duties of cleaning their own areas around the ship. The only exceptions were those a part of the bridge crew or the operations room.

That changed for me this time. Three times, and I have finally struck out. A change of shifts for this day only has me on call for radar duty, thus meaning, there's floors to scrub somewhere. A surplus of sailors qualified for what I do meant my job became part-time, only four days a week for five weeks. That does not count evenings and nights as long as the replacements aren't in sick bay.

For as pitiful of a job mopping the berthing floors and scrubbing doorway frames until they shone under the light is, it felt questionably satisfying to be doing something else on the ship for a change. Not that I find much enjoyment in cleaning to begin with, but, out here, it gave a different sense than if I am at home cleaning our dorm, or my apartment in Canterlot.

According to Shadow, as well as a few other ranking sailors I have come across, it 'builds teamwork'. That is the same excuse our drill instructor used back in boot camp. I can't say for sure if that is an accurate way to describe it for the simple fact that I am on my own for the time being. There were some others performing their own tasks, like cleaning and remaking racks, polishing portholes, stuff like that.

I suppose it is wrong to complain. Mopping isn't the worst come to think of it, and I am least likely to catch a cold or the flu doing it as compared to the unlucky ones stuck with scrubbing out toilets thoroughly by hoof. Mine would be under running water every few minutes if that were the case, knowing my habits.

Even regardless of making my rounds through each and every berthing and rack space, slicking the floors with filthy-becoming disinfectant and carrying around a bucket full of it to dip the old mop in, I was yet to see anypony else. Not Night, not Anchorage, not even Ash, and especially not Silver. There remained to be a mental-written list of mine filled with questions to ask him now that I at least know that his assigned ship had not been switched.

He had some sort of tendency to avoid us no matter what, particularly me. I figured Anchorage might catch him around the ship somewhere since he usually never stood in one place. Something somewhere is continually in need of repair, and he is on the spot whenever, suggesting trips to the operations room—where Silver now works—are constant for all of the tech that it consisted of.

I held solid doubt that Silver would steer clear of the four of us the whole five weeks. The likelihood of such being accomplished can only be minimal, and if succeeded, would be mildly disappointing on his part. What did not make any sense to us is the question of why he is doing it. It isn't like our opinions on him have changed because of what he did while we were away. Surely he cannot believe we are upset with him, can he?

As far as weather conditions went, however, for the first (technically second) day of deployment, they could not be at all better. Particularly sunny skies, crystal visibility, light winds and calm waves, a balmy 76 degrees, and very little clouds anywhere across the horizon made for ideal sailing weather. No one could conceivably ask for a more superior day, and it looked to continue on for a week or more at least. Frankly, someone could get away with dozing off at the helm and there would be nothing to fret about. Some of the chiefs in the galley even joked about opening the flight deck for sun tanning. Unfortunately, that did not settle well with the few who fell for their humor as a serious statement.

Were the Eclipse a destroyer, what they say might be different. Sometimes the higher-ups treat sailors to a relaxation time in the form of swim call where the ship is brought to a halt in the water and those volunteering take a plunge into the water to cool off. The other less-common option is sitting out on the weather decks, around the Mark 45's—which are the front artillery guns on most guided-missile destroyer vessels.

In my experiences, not once has Shadow announced a swim call. Then again, this would mark one of the few times we have sailed in picturesque weather. Last time we were in a hurricane, and the time before that, it was foggy, and we were boarded, and before that, my first deployment, there were only a few patches of sun here and there accompanied by an unwavering inclement, gloomy atmosphere. So, perhaps he will mention it this time if all goes to plan. Not that I would step up to the plate for it anyhow for... reasons.

By evening, at last, I reached the final few rooms ordered for mopping up. Already they seemed to be in tip-top shape upon stepping over the frame lip and inside. The floors themselves were in satisfactory condition, though not exceptional. I could probably get away with not touching this room, but I wasn't about to risk a lecture despite my exhaustion from circling the ship.

As I went to work on the last room, my ear swiveled, catching on to the close-by shouting of somepony from the hall a few doors down. Judging by his volume and tone, one with understanding and knowledge of deployments could effortlessly determine that it was a chief, and whoever it was that he had dragged to the side and honed in on, I could only sympathize for them.

For a couple moments, the clamor did stop, only to return just in time for me to step outside and make my way back across the ship to leave the mop and bucket where I had taken them from. I rounded a corner, and in that instant, came to a halt just a few feet into the corridor. Stood there partially blocking the narrow space was Silver Edge, his rear merely a couple of inches from the wall with a cream-white earth pony looming over him.

Almost as soon as I had turned the corner and stopped a few paces down from them, the chief snapped his glower to the left and redirected it my way. His bright gold eyes flicking a wrathful bile with flaming daggers that dug in to my soul prompted me to back off, slowly disappearing around the same corner I had come from. There I waited for him to finish with Silver. This would be my chance to speak with him at long last.

"I-I'm sorry, Chief. It will not h-happen again!" he stammered out, throwing up a shaky and mediocre salute, which the pale-coated stallion promptly did not give in return before stomping off. When the chief disappeared through a door, Silver allowed himself to relax, leaning against the wall and sighing in a mildly depressive manner.

I leaned my head around to peek, proceeding toward Silver when I had determined that the coast is clear. From the direction he faced, he did not notice me approaching from behind.

I stopped a couple paces short of the beige unicorn, briefly studying him before I said, "Silver? You alright?"

His ear flicked and turned, before he glanced over his shoulder. A gentle nod followed, as well as a weakly reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I set the bucket and mop down against the wall. "What was that all about?"

Silver shifted himself to face me a bit more properly. At least he didn't try and walk away from me. "Kinda broke his second favorite coffee mug when cleaning it out, so he chewed me on that. Among other things..." he trailed off.

"Other things?" I blinked. "Silver, where have you been? We go away for one week and when we get back, you turned in your uniform for a squid's?"

"It's... well. There's a reason behind it. I meant to let you guys know, I swear! In fact, I was going to make that announcement the week you guys left. That... was why I couldn't come along, I had too much paperwork and stuff that needed finished for the process to move along. I'm sorry," he explained with a frown.

"So, I... guess this means you are no longer a member of the 25th?" I casually questioned, managing to retain a half smile to mask the dismay inside despite its evidence in the tone of my inquiry.

Silver blinked with confusion. "What? Oh," his eyes grew moderately wide. "I'm... afraid not. But, hey, this was the original plan," he added, giving a trifling smile in return.

"Was it... that day in basic, the day it was pouring cats and dogs outside and you chose not to run to your own barrack in it, so you asked me if you could spend the night?" I remarked, my lower lids faintly squinting.

The beige unicorn, looking quite shocked with my recollection of that day, responded with a gentle nod. "It was."

"And, you... you knew you were in the wrong place. So why didn't you, you know, sneak back to the right place or let somepony know?" my head cocked a little.

"Who was I supposed to ask?" Silver grunted, his smile having wiped itself away. "I knew I was in deep shit when I got filed with your training section. Somepony evidently fucked up the records and failed to point it out after we graduated."

"Well... was it your first day?"

"I... yes. No. Second day. Either way," he waved his hoof. "I just went along with it, and then..." he stopped immediately.

I noticed his ears lost their perk, and instantly I knew what he was on about now. "That bad, huh?" I said, furrowing my eyebrow unsuspiciously.

His head bobbed in a slow nod. "I... I enlisted... to serve under my uncle, Star. To this day I still have not met him in person, mainly because he is just so busy himself on the Gibbous. I was hoping transferring might help that day come a lot sooner, but... I'm still stuck on this blasted carrier. But, yes, it was... that... where I'd had enough."

Silver briefly checked around us to ensure no one was nearby to eavesdrop. "I enjoyed my time as a Marine while it lasted. That deployment where they blew a hole in the ship and started boarding, it..." his voice began to crack and breaths became short with tears forming in his eyes. "I did not think it could get any worse than that. But it did. And then we lost Solar, and then..."

"Hey. Stop." I lifted my hoof to his shoulder and placed it there, leaning only a couple inches closer. "Silver, look at me."

Breaking his minor state of hyperventilation, a pair of glassy, dark magenta cores raised to meet my own directly. I greatly noted the pain deep in them, masked by the collecting tears in his eyes. I could finally see what had gone overlooked for this long, and it created an throbbing ache in my heart.

"Silver, I-I..." my tongue stumbled over the words in guilt. "Have I been neglecting you? We, I mean? Or is it just I?"

His ears perked straight up and he recoiled. "What? No. No! Neglecting?" he let off a short laugh, one that reeked purely of flawed denial. My ear twitched and I raised an eyebrow in question, this faltering his smile. "The only pony you have neglected, Star, is yourself."

The hairs of my coat bristled under my uniform, blinking with puzzlement at his comment. "What do you mean by that?"

Silver's expression had transitioned from a smile, to a frown, and now took a flatly dour image. "The psychiatrist you have been visiting. Pastel, was it?" I nodded. "I went and spoke to her while you were off in Coltlumbus for personal purposes. I mentioned you to her, we had a bit of small talk, and she... told me something."

I didn't think of anything best kept under wraps that I have discussed with her, so I naturally replied with, "Yeah?"

The steely look on Silver's face strengthened. "Are you seeing somepony, Star?"

Again, I hadn't a clue of what he meant, tilting my head in bewilderment. "Huh?"

"Are you... with somepony, should I put?" he mused, lightly motioning his hoof in front of him. "A shipmate, or a fellow Marine?"

My entire body froze over in an instant, only now realizing what direction this conversation was headed. I could not make out whether or not he noticed this reaction, and I could feel my face simultaneously turn red and pale if it were possible. No, please, not this. Anything but this.

"Me, w-with a shipmate?" I sputtered. "That's insane, Silver," I deflected, trying to chuckle it off. "I would land in serious trouble if that were the truth."

"But you are with somepony. A stallion, I should add. Ray Blitz?" he continued, lowering his voice somewhat.

Once more, my blood ran cold. For a moment I felt my heart stop completely in my chest. My jaw hung partially slack as I scrambled for a response. "How... wh—how on earth did you find out?!" I almost screamed in shock, falling back a couple paces, my pupils becoming marbles in size.

"I told you. She was the one who brought it up. I don't think it was on purpose, though, because she looked paranoid after the fact."

"Silver, I... th-that's none of your business!" I snapped, reserving my volume to just a loud whisper between us two. "That's a breach of fucking confidentiality!"

"I know," he nodded apologetically. "And I am sorry, Star. But, you have my word that this is just between you, and me. That is completely up to you to tell the others."

I stomped my hoof on the floor out of anger reflex, the force instead spouting the energy right back up my arm to my shoulder somewhat painfully. My maw opened to speak, but no words came out, as if my mind had shut off as soon as they hit my tongue. A moment after, I felt my ears no longer standing up straight as the mood within completely reset, and my gaze descended to the floor.

"Hey. Your secret is safe with me, man," Silver added encouragingly, setting his hoof on my chest to grab my attention. Upon glancing up, I found him to be beaming with a coy smile.

My ears never quite perked back up, though they were not pinned flat to my skull any longer. I only worked out a far fainter one in return, keeping quiet as he spoke up again.

"I'm not one to judge. Not like my past self, that is. Prejudiced Silver is no more," he laughed blamelessly. "As long as you are happy, who am I to say otherwise?"

I looked up from the floor, giving him a slow nod. Despite his protests otherwise, deep down, I still felt like utter shit for various reasons.

"Listen to me. It will be our secret and absolutely no one else's awareness. I will leave it all up to you to decide on when you want to come out to the others. That is all you, Star. You get me?"

I stared in silence, scrutinizing him and his words for a couple of seconds before I replied with another nod. "Thank you. But, let me be real honest with you for a minute, I am not too certain that we are... you know, a thing. Like, he never..."

Silver tilted his head, much like a dog in question of its owner. "Do you consider each other that way?"

"I... don't know." I glanced off to the side and down. "We have only ever seen each other in person a few times, too few to really form any kind of verdict. I think. Is that how this works?" he shrugged, then I sighed. "We have had conversations through a computer more often than not, whenever one of us can't see the other physically. That's what I am hoping to do while we're out here since I now know it is there to use."

"And... you are certain that you have feelings for him? I'm not saying it is, buuuut, it could be... I don't know, late hormones? Or perhaps you saw something that influenced it?"

"No. No, no!" I shook my head firmly. "No, Silver. I don't know. I..." a deep sigh slipped out, relaxing my muscles. "I brought it up to Pastel because I didn't know what it was. I suppose I have never been in an actual, live relationship to say much. But, I know for a fact that I did not see something that made me decide, hm, I like colts now! You get me?"

Silver nodded comprehensively. "I get you, one-hundred percent. But what do you think is what I am asking? What are your feelings?"

"Me?" I blinked, impulsively looking above him at the wall, pondering on the question for a second. "My feelings are... that this... might be who I am."

"Why do you query?" he asked for clarity.

"Because I am confused. I've never had to face such a question in my life before. Signing my life away so I could join the Marines was hefty enough, but that is something completely different. The only true similarity is both play major contributing factors in my fate. I haven't needed to think about love or who I want to spend my life with beyond the simple boundaries of friendship. I'm nineteen, twenty in a few days. I—"

Silver quickly tapped my arm. "Hold that thought. Happy birthday."

"Thank you," I nodded. "In short, I don't know what the hell is going on anymore. I can't control myself. I get all warm and fuzzy inside when he is around and my brain turns to snow static. I can't get away with simply thinking of his name without, er... craving his attention! That... doesn't sound wrong, does it?" Silver shook his head. I sighed exasperatedly.

"He... is just so, different. He's smart, he's caring, he's... like my opposite, but not at the same time, if that makes any sense! Ray, just... makes me question who I am, who I want to be with. He does a damn fine job of puzzling the fuck out of me."

"Perhaps a relationship is what you need to heal yourself, Star, the missing link to finding your other half again, not to sound overly spiritual. If... he makes you feel that way around him, what's stopping you?"

"I..." my gaze fell limp, fixing on nothing in particular but focused down the center of Silver's blouse. "I don't genuinely know."

The beige unicorn shifted a bit in his posture. "All right. Well, just to clarify in advance, I do not intend brag either, so don't assume that I am. I met a nice mare not too long ago, has a genuine merit to her when we talk, and, she has actually helped me some nights when I am down there. And, well, she gave me her number, so..."

"Wait." I threw my hoof up for him to stop mid-sentence. "You have a marefriend?"

Silver's body noticeably grew tense at that, though not remotely close to my reaction prior. "She is just a friend. For right now, that is," he wholeheartedly answered, a feeble shade of pink appearing on his cheeks.

"Silver Edge, with a mare?" I bantered to lighten the mood. "Hey, good for you. I'm glad. What's her name?"

He brought a hoof up to the back of his head, scratching, then readjusting his cover. "Velvet, er... Berry. Velvet Berry. And... by not too long ago, I mean, more like... I have known her since before I enlisted. We have been friends for quite some time, and... it was her who took initiative."

"Ah. Friend from school?" I kept my expression light.

Silver shrugged. "Something of that sort. We, uh... hung out quite a bit with some of her friends, walked around town, basically day-to-day best-friend stuff. We never really developed feelings for one another then, so, her father was fine with me for that reason."

A benevolent chuckle escaped between my lips, the smile on my muzzle widening slightly. "Bet that has since changed."

"Velvet's out on her own now, runs a bakery in Wingstown. She has always had a passion for sweet treats, never didn't bake something for an occasion whether it be a birthday or a national holiday."

"She sounds like a kind mare. You will have to introduce me to her some day."

"As with yours," he came back with a smirk. I merely rolled my eyes, grumbling.

"When I am ready, Silver," I stated firmly.

"Of course," he nodded in agreement. "I shall respect that."

I seconded his nod. "Thank you for understanding."

"Thank you for not killing me for knowing too much," he joked, which earned him a merciful slug in the shoulder.

Before either of us could say another word, alarms rang out in the halls. We both froze in place and looked around in confusion, exchanging mutual looks and questioning just what was going on. Sailors emerged from different doorways and began running in all directions, some still buttoning their blouses on their way out. Then came the announcement from the bridge.

"On board Eclipse, we have reports from the flight deck of a pony overboard. Repeat, reports of a chemlight in the water. We need all hooves to go to muster. Get the lights on in the berthing areas and grab any shipmates out of their racks. All hooves safely and swiftly to muster at once. This is NOT a drill!"

"Shit, man," I looked right at Silver with a knowing glance and we took off in suit, subsequently as another announcement sounded on ship-wide ceiling speakers.

"This is the captain, we have got a chemlight in the waves! Everypony get to their pony overboard stations, on the double!"

***

A pony having fallen overboard is never a good sign, even worse when the sun is setting and there isn't much you can do when visibility of the surrounding area is greatly reduced. Powerful spotlights atop the bridge tower and mast can be manually operated by watchkeepers to scan the waters for any figures who might be flailing around in attempt to be detected, though they are typically not entirely useful for how limited of a range and field they can cover.

Chemlights are provided to strictly crew members working on or around the flight deck, so if one manages to fall off and into the water they can activate it to allow for easy spotting in case nopony initially notices them. I have never personally seen one in action considering there has never been a reason for me to need one of my own which, come to think of it, is a bit of a redundant custom on these ships.

Standard procedure for such occurrences is gather everypony who is not a part of the rescue effort into one place for calling of names. This is to make sure resources are not wasted in a false alarm, such as somepony accidentally dropping theirs into the ocean or intentionally doing so to spark a panic. There is no safe proof from this, however, because everypony is individually checked for their chemlights. Whoever around the flight deck that is missing theirs is immediately written down as a potential suspect assuming no one is found in the water and all crew members are present.

The ship was brought to a complete halt while everypony scrambled to their stations and those on the bridge worked to assess the situation and inform the other ships in the fleet within a fifty mile radius of the Eclipse, knowing a sudden stop in the middle of calm seas can be rather unnerving, especially labeled as a radar signature to separate vessels closely monitoring each others' movement.

A team of four headed hastily to the aft of the boat, or the 'wishbone' as a few referred to it as, where a powered dinghy was at the ready to be lowered into the water and head out to search the area of where the chemlight was spotted. This was not too much of a distance since the ship had immediately begun to slow to an eventual dead standstill the instance somepony reported it in.

Because this was the real deal, it was absolute discord everywhere I went. The muster station in a carrier's protocol is the hangar bay, meaning there were hundreds of confused sailors packed tightly together as division chiefs went around with lists of their respective sections and began calling names one by one to mark them off as safe. Surprisingly, this process went exceptionally deft under the circumstances. Everything was organized smoothly and patiently as we waited for an update.

Being the only ones on the ship in our unit, Night and I stood off to the side among other Marines, including Ashfall, where we would have somepony completely different come and write us down. A sergeant, most likely. Nobody really knows how long we will have to stay put for.

I have been through drills on previous deployments, but they were far less chaotic for the fact that ponies knew ahead of time. The difference here is that no one anticipated this. At least everypony seemed to remain calm and do as ordered. That is what truly matters around here, and everything all of us could ask for is that nopony is actually hurt, but simultaneously feel no compassion for whoever might have done this for shits and giggles. If that is what this turns out to be, not even the princesses themselves can protect their soul from the captain's wrath.

Still, in the event that somepony has fallen overboard and is in the water somewhere, chances of survival even in tranquil seas dwindle with each passing minute. At night, the ocean surface temperature can drop anywhere between forty or fifty degrees fahrenheit, and that is this time of year. In winter, it can get colder than the threshold of freezing but not ice over due to the constant rippling movement along the surface.

On a hot day, that sounds refreshingly cool. But, at night, when the air is roughly sixty degrees if you are lucky, that is frigid. Anypony in the water for a prolonged period of time can fall unconscious from exhaustion anywhere within a thirty to sixty minute window, and perish between one or three hours if not found.

As time went on, rumors spread that the rescue dinghy was deployed. Soon after, word came that the team had found the chemlight used and that nopony was accompanying it. This raised concern among sailors, namely the division chiefs checking and re-checking their lists to make sure everyone is accounted for. This all continued for over a half an hour, long after all light from dusk to the west had vanished. Our only sources of information were the one-in-a-hundred ponies with portable radios in hoof.

Most went as far as sitting down on the cold concrete on the spot while we waited. No one was allowed back to their duties until the captain's word is given. The desperation in the hangar bay swelled by the minute. To our relief, no fellow Marines were missing, yet learning this did not help the situation by much. Considering there were about fifteen total—including myself—out of two thousand, five hundred personnel in all, if anything, that made the efforts tougher.

Without knowing the time, no one really knew what time it was. We were prevented from looking outside for both safety reasons and there being no portholes in the hangar. Not that we would be able to see anything, anyways. It felt like an eternity. Some around were beginning to doze off where they sat, and I couldn't really blame them.

Then, every speaker screeched. The startling noise echoed throughout the enormous room, promptly waking anyone who had fallen asleep from boredom or just plain exhaustion from the long day.

"This is the captain..." the voice began, before a short pause. Everypony's gazes turned to the ceiling impulsively, eagerly awaiting the news. "We got him."

In all honesty, I have never heard celebration so loud in my life. Cheering, stomping, and clapping exploded. A few here and there whistled. I simply smiled and clapped my hooves, thankful for this announcement. To think we all could have lost somepony to the smallest of mishaps tonight, on the second evening since leaving Manehattan, well... it was frightening to say the least.

It wasn't long after until everyone but hangar workers filed out, returning to their berthings, their stations, what ever it was they were doing or now have to do. If there were a watering hole on the ship, I would go ahead and make a careful assumption that the vast majority of everypony would make their way there after all of this. Can you really blame them?

In my case, my hooves took me straight to my rack. I didn't bother to strip any pieces of mine off and ultimately crashed on it straightaway without a second thought. Relief can be downright exhausting after such a tense moment. Not exactly a moment, but, close enough. A quick check of the time on my phone told me it was six after midnight, both definitely past my preferred bed time, and significantly later than previously guessed.

Apart from that, I proceeded with ignoring the already-discovered fact that there is no reception whatsoever, and this threatens my promise to keep tabs on Mom while at sea. I suppose one other option out there was the 'POTS'—otherwise referred to as the plain old telephone system that I can benefit from. They were not too dissimilar than the pay-to-use telephone kiosks on the streets in most large cities or in public buildings, and they served the exact same purpose, courtesy of the Navy.

Allegedly, as mentioned by Anchorage, a wireless internet connection installed on the ship exists, utilized by sailors both for personal purposes and use confidentially for work. I don't know for sure if it would make a difference as far as calling or text messaging goes. Granted, this was my first phone and I am still very much clueless as to how everything works at best. Although, it is still worth a shot, assuming I can sort out the pass code it requires.

Author's Note

A bit of a laid back chapter (for once) to kick off the second deployment arc, and a rather quick one to write. Now Silver is aware of what Star is hiding, and he trusts that it will be kept under wraps.

But will it?

29. All Hooves - Part I

Back and forth, like a pendulum. That about describes how this unofficially established ping-pong competition went between Anchorage and another sailor in his division, Gallant. Ash and I soon declined into boredom about ten minutes in, and that itself was somewhere near twenty minutes ago. Who would have guessed the two most prominent players on the boat could keep a match ongoing for this long?

Gallant was a relatively chill stallion. I had seen him around a few times in the past, though never on break time, and he is usually accompanying Anchorage. Even on duty, he maintained that poised image of his and overall was a surprisingly laid-back pony.

The marmalade stallion, born and raised in West Fillydelphia, was at one point an athlete prior to the Navy and typically played basketball outside his school. Only two and a half inches taller than Anchorage—who is a couple centimeters taller than me, mind you—it isn't difficult to note the muscle he still packed. Not huge of a pony like Night is, or many other average draft stallions, though one can undoubtedly determine it is best to pick a fight wisely with him nearby.

Then again, when compared side-by-side to one other earth pony we know, Ash still dominates as far as height and muscle goes. But you are also talking completely different origins that play enormous roles in who or what they turn out to be today. Ash was raised on a lumber camp owned by his father, so he practically spent his entire colthood lugging sticks and tree trunks until he one day ventured to Ponyville to enlist, like I did, albeit a few years after the fact.

I can't say the color Gallant's coat took didn't somewhat jog my memory of Solar, apart from the blatant distinction of the latter having a bright yellow coat and dark orangish-brown hair, around the same shade of orange to be precise. The more substantial difference that stands out most is that Solar was a unicorn, shorter in height, and was more scrawny to an extent—and younger. Significantly. I wasn't about to be the pony to comment on it, however.

It has been a little over sixteen days since we left port back in Manehattan. Like expected, each day on the ship went by smoothly without any hiccups, and my shifts were no longer full time as they were formerly. It felt off not having to be on the bridge seven days a week for thirteen or fourteen hours a day, so my days off were particularly slow and tedious. Not even mother nature was willing to throw a stone in our path to make things interesting, or a boulder, whichever suits best.

That sailor that fell overboard on the evening of the second day? He was treated for hypothermia the moment the rescue dinghy was brought up to the aft of the ship and hastily evacuated. To the best of my knowledge, he has since been released from sick bay and is back to his regular tasks after a few days spent resting and recovering from such a traumatic experience.

Seriously, had he not equipped his chemlight or nobody spotted it, he might still be out there. He could have become a shark's lunch, or simply just drowned of exhaustion or body heat loss. Either way it could have gone would not show well in anyone's favor. For one, the media would be all over it like flies on a tipped trash can. There would be chaos all over base, and not just Marines or sailors, but civilians would be all over us asking questions, too. It's already appalling enough recognizing that some refer to us as 'foal killers'.

In itself, knowing such serves a sufficient reminder to keep my mouth shut in the steadily-becoming likely occurrence that I may one day encounter a pony who enforces those beliefs and will go to the lengths to make my day a living hell. But I also have to worry about the ones who may notice based on posture or speech, since there are some who make it their nosy duty to read ponies and determine who they are judging by a mere glance. Like that pony in Canterlot at the cafe. Oh, wait, that was a dream.

To be fair, they had considerable points to support their reasoning. It was the last major war involving Equestria that took place beginning approximately twenty-eight years ago, in 1987, which lasted for two more years afterward. As a result, this shaped the mutual image of Equestria's armed forces worldwide and not limited to just our citizens. While relations have improved over the years, and once deteriorated last year over a misunderstanding that led to hundreds of casualties, they never truly healed.

Of course, the disbandment of the Great Gryphon Constitution garnered the support of not just the Eastern Kingdoms, but virtually everywhere affected specifically or indirectly by their vengeful, terrorizing reign. It wouldn't surprise me if a few of their loyal troops remained in hiding, but on a larger scale, thankfully, they were no longer a threat due to us.

That said, if it also weren't for us, they would not have made it to shore. They would not have breached Equestria's coasts to take Manehattan. Yet they did, all thanks to misguided data and a well-conceived diversion. It could have all been prevented. Despite their internal assistance and firepower, no matter what, they lost, and they would have lost whether or not they succeeded in distracting my fellow Marines. I suppose their vision, regardless of outcome, was just to wreak havoc on the economy and infrastructure as revenge, and piss off every soldier, sailor, airpony, and Marine from here to San Dineigho as a result. Fairly weak logic in my opinion, although it succeeded to a degree.

We didn't stick around for the offensive's conclusion due to the orders we were given, though I imagine no clemency was given to those that surrendered, if any did, probably against commands, too. Who wouldn't go against a leader's instructions to exact violence against those who struck your homeland with intent for spilling blood of the innocent and defenseless and smashing stone into dust everywhere they trampled.

I won't fully agree with such for the sake of avoiding sounding like scum rebelling against his military. There are, of course, boundaries with such. But I cannot accept any lenient action shown toward the enemy in their capture, even if they were later executed discreetly. These days, the public can never be happy, for execution has become less common in the law world. Then there are the judges that lock away minor offenders for an eternity and dust off the felons to perform heinous crimes. I just cannot fathom how ponies firmly concur with them anymore!

Alas, the judge to indict (and wave off) the second lieutenant for his shocking deeds had the correct mindset, and while I hate to inflict any such punishment on anypony I know, the injury and death caused was deserving of justice. He did murder in cold blood, even if it turned out to be his 'alt-ego' as arbitrated by the court, backed by the countless medical records on his file. That may very well be the sole reason he was let off the hook so quickly. Arc Nobis' acts were inexcusable, nevertheless him being within his own jurisdiction.

Deep in thought, I suddenly blinked into realization of the moment. Was I just persistently agreeing to harm of ponies? Is this who I have become as repercussion of enlisting? No, the military does not promote hate, I knew that. Ash knew that. Anchorage and Silver, too. That is not us. That is not who we are.

But when it comes down to such brutality shown against those we swore our lives to protect, all of that gets thrown out the window. We stop at nothing to achieve the destruction of whoever dare threaten our country and its inhabitants, as terrible as that sounds.

It was not until the voice of Ashfall to my right yanked me back to reality, where the match still had yet to find an end. "So, Star, I heard you spoke to Silver?"

Thankfully he failed to notice my jolt of surprise, leaving my muse behind. "Yeah," I replied, flatly at first. "He's doing well, by the way. Still trying to get accustomed to the Navy and all of that fancy shit."

"Well, that's a relief. I actually thought he was caught up in some conspiracy with the Manehattan mafia or something, heh. As long as he ain't..." Ash said, shifting in his particularly uncomfortable metal chair. "Man, why'd he do it?"

Before the words emerged, Anchorage chimed in between swings, "Because that is what he wanted to begin with, to join the Navy."

In the spur of the moment I snapped to him and outstretched my hooves up over my head apprehensively, yelping out, "You knew?!"

"Uh huh!" he nodded, not once removing his focus from the game in front of him. "You didn't? He told me months ago."

"How many months ago?" my brow arched in perplexion, eyes honing in on and studying Anchor thoroughly now.

"Four, five? I think?" he replied, whipping his body full circle and still managing to hit the ball across to Gallant, who grew moderately peeved in response. The look plastered on his face spoke more than he did, and it showed his annoyance toward Anchorage now, who simply kept going with a devious sneer of wits.

Bewildered as ever, Ash stared in question along with me at his best friend. "So, you knew all this time?"

"Of course!" countered Anchorage, bouncing on his hooves and acting like a pumped hoofball player ready to tackle. A ball. With a ping-pong paddle. "But he told you, too!"

I blinked in confusion, asking, "When was this?" cocking my head to the left.

"Four, five months ago," he said in repeat of himself. "Or, at least, he tried to."

The white pegasus tossed his paddle into the air and dropped his hoof to the floor. All of our jaws dropped, including Gallant's, when Anchorage proceeded to catch it by the handle between his wing feathers and deliver a final, powerful, and rather clamorous swat that sent the little plastic orb sailing narrowly over his comrade's dodging head and into the wall across the room.

"Shouldn't have dropped your guard, mate," Anchorage declared with a victoriously-taunting and cunning smirk, slapping his paddle down on the table edge lightheartedly, "Chalk another under my name. If you all will so kindly excuse me, I've got priorities to attend to," before he snatched up his predominantly-consumed can of cola and headed out, all while the majority of the sailors and two Marines—Ash and I—watched him leave.

Turning back to his friend, still stood at the head of his end of the ping pong table, Gallant's head lightly tilted and one of his eyes stared half-lidded, even after Anchorage had rounded the corner. Despite this, it was I who broke the silence. "Did... he just win on a wing?"

Ascending to his hooves and shrugging in a long, relieving stretch, Ash, in proud manner of the pegasus he referred to as his best friend, he proceeded to add rather cockily, "Without the prayer."

***

Shadow picked up the receiver for the ship's intercom system and pressed down on the speaker button, addressing to the crew, "All aboard Eclipse, heads up. We are on steady approach to a last-known position of a radio frequency disturbance; latitude thirty-nine degrees north, thirty-four minutes, longitude minus forty-one degrees west, thirty-one minutes, north-central Antlertic Ocean. This is it, everypony, our first attempt. We don't find anything out here today, we'll try again tomorrow or move on," setting the wire-attached device down in its slot when he finished.

"Think we'll find anything interesting out here?" casually questioned the bluish-green quartermaster, Sea Watch, hunched over a table with a large map rolled out across it and a pencil tapping against his hoof, mentally running by his own questions in relation to his job. This was typically what he looked like day in and day out, and somehow his back never misaligned in his three years of being in the Navy.

"Sure hope so, otherwise this is all just an enormous waste of resources and everypony's time," answered Vernon, sliding his headphones down to let them sit on his shoulders as he then took a large swig of water from his bottle to quench his apparent thirst.

"I hear you there," Shadow said, heading back to the coffee pot at the rear of the room, behind my station and to the right. Much to my contentment, it had been replaced with a newer model since our previous voyage, where the last one shattered after being knocked off its counter in high surf. "For how much I love to set sail, an unnecessary deployment is never a good one."

"Aye, Captain," I commented with a nod, relaxing into my chair to sprawl out my hinds and stretch them. Hours spent sitting in one spot can be taxing on one's muscles.

Supposedly by remembering I was there, Shadow strolled up to my station after refilling his mug. "What's it looking like, Corporal?" putting a faint bit of pride in the emphasis of my title, which I offhandedly noted but ignored.

As requested, with a few clicks and taps of the mouse and keyboard, enlarging a couple of windows on the screen to read off a report, I leaned forward. "No different than yesterday, sir. Winds at thirteen knots, waves under one meter, light precipitation clusters to our immediate south and west."

"Good, good. Nice to not have piss-poor weather for once," he remarked, returning to his anterior seat to kick back, but not before imposing a brief, benevolent pat on my shoulder; his way of giving a silent gesture of appreciation to crewmates.

Even though we all looked to him as our commanding officer and respected him as such—at least, in my case, that is what he is to me on the ship, less so back in Manehattan for that remark—he maintained a friendly character, much like Gallant, barring the difference in rank between the duo.

Beneath his stoic, top-dog veil, Shadow's home mannerisms assumed him the title of a family stallion like any ordinary, primarily here, always striking leisurely discussions when they came to mind, and everypony tried to relate to one another in certain aspects. Consider him the father figure of us in addition to the subtle, between-the-bridge-crew notion that we were all equal members of his so-called second family of sorts. A type of brotherhood solely the military can forge.

Then there are the ones who fear him, and occasionally, us as well due to the fact that we spend time with him so often. Whoever does not see much of him or has not known him for this long would normally see him as powerful, demanding, and downright terrifying like any high-ranking officer can be conceived as. Truth is, at the end of the day, he can be. Within boundaries placed, that is. It gives an explanation for everything of his to be placed within his reach with nothing figuratively and literally between him. Like anypony else, he has his unfavorable days, and unless crucial, we tend not to bug him. Especially before he fills his mug in the mornings.

Of course, Shadow and I have known each other long before I even considered enlisting. The occasion itself and what we were doing that day is what remains vague in my memory, other than it wasn't long after I moved to Canterlot, and a friend had introduced him to me and vice versa, and that I practically quivered in his presence upon learning his occupation which, at the time, was fairly new compared to the present. There was just something about veterans back then that caused butterflies in my stomach merely being remotely close to them, let alone befriending one. Hell, I was skittish around my friend then, too!

Suddenly, the whole entire ship jerked up. I'm talking virtually every square inch of steel, asphalt, and whatever else went into constructing this thing, all of it lurched upward simultaneously and let off a bang that echoed throughout every corridor, berthing, and compartment from stern to aft.

Everyone on the bridge reflexively secured a sturdy hold of their desks or other bolted fixtures, or more simply the floor and put on their boat legs as loose objects such as books, pens, papers, and cups were jolted ajar and hurled everywhere. The force of it was enough to make a couple of us grunt in immediate response to having our lower bodies shoved up so swiftly. A distinctly shrill noise of metal grinding against metal pierced the air, and as if it were in synchronization with a vibrating motion coming from below the hull, everything—including ourselves—trembled and quaked for a full twenty or so seconds before it abruptly ceased.

Much gentler than before, the heavy stern eased itself almost unnoticeably back into the water comfortably. We all then snapped our immediate attention off to the port side, watching with both disbelief and mild oblivion as a long, thin silhouette passed beneath the surface of the waves and steadily became more visible, before the water surrounding it burst up in a white mist. Emerging from this geyser-like cloud splashed the nose of a thin, round black object that churned the water with whirlpools in its wake that rocked even our ship, slinking speedily in an well-nigh precise diagonal northerly track.

Without repressing his utter bafflement at the sight, Vernon shouted, "What the hell is that thing?!" standing completely from his chair and observing the somewhat distinguishable, black tube-shaped vessel along with the rest of us—even the flight deck crew, who from under our vantage point appeared as visibly startled as we were, hurrying to the edge and gathering to see what we had struck as it swiftly surfaced from the blue. A submarine.

Furiously, Shadow picked up his phone receiver to the operations room, calling down to it in search for answers. "Bridge to operations, this is the captain. What the fuck is going on down there? What can you see on sonar?" trailed by a silence of the other end speaking, and eventually Shadow's booming, exasperated voice. "Well, what CAN you tell me?!"

Though his question was not directed towards me, I took it as it was and fixed solely on my screens. No one on the bridge had the ability to hear the sailor's response on the opposite end of the line, leaving it up to me to answer for them. One empty sweep on both radar and sonar circled, followed by another. Then, instantly as the third scan looped around, my eyes grew wide as saucers.

The fur on my hooves turned pale with alarm, not for a moment separating my stare from the monitors in front of me as two—no, three—five—seven signatures appeared in a tight formation on steady approach from the northeast, with a course due to cross our own.

"C-Captain, we—" I stuttered, allotting a few seconds for the displays to update for further verification. "I've got seven—no, eight! Eight blips."

The moment I glanced up from my station, the look he tossed my way told me everything I needed to know that he did, and it was far from slack. Just then, Vernon peered at both of us from his station, reserving something of his to say next that would surely add to the rapidly escalating mayhem. Without hesitating he grabbed Shadow's attention and turned a knob on his radio communicator to project an incoming frequency through the bridge's speakers. Through it crackled a thickly-accented, commanding voice, unlike any I have heard before.

"Equestrian Fleet, zis is ze S.A.F Vulher, ze flagship of ze Sovereign Ajerstanian Naval Forces. You have crossed within our path. Zis is our final warning. Redirect your course at once to avert conflict, or we shall unleash our full fury!"

Author's Note

The seas are not so calm after all.

30. All Hooves - Part II

"Bloody hell, it's them."

Tension rose in the room immediately when Shadow vocalized his reaction to the transmission patching through our communications frequency. The expression he wore told that he was familiar with the accent. Now the undetected submarine made much more sense after the fact.

He reached to grab his binoculars and proceeded to scan the horizon. Surely enough, there in the far distance sat hazy silhouettes of multiple ships with their afts pointed in our direction. Spotting them brought an incoherent mutter out of him as well as a grimacing look, shifting his focus then to the wake stream of the submarine, which had dipped back beneath the surface and out of our sight.

Shadow snatched up the receiver for the VHF and, without any hesitation and by normal procedure, returned the call with his own dour address. "This is the L.R.S. Eclipse. State your route and your purpose in our immediate vicinity."

Like the instance where the hostile boats trailed behind the ship many months back, and as with any similar condition, it is within the jurisdiction of any and all naval ships to provide warning if an unknown vessel is on any sort of direct path toward them, whether that vessel be civilian or military.

For some time, he stood by for a response. It soon came a few minutes later, but with a completely different voice speaking. This time, it had an eastern prominence to it. "Eclipse, that is a name I have not heard in some time. Our mission is classified to all but ourselves. Perhaps you would fair better to state yours while it is within our locality."

Shadow's eyes darted to the speaker built into the top of his control dash, recognizing this particular voice. He lifted the receiver to reply. "Admiral, I give you my word that we are out here on a patrol cruise, nothing more. Dull your tone."

"Patrol cruises do not involve the entirety of your fleet, Captain. We will not take kindly to this deceit, and take my word when I say, we will not back down from a fight should the time call for it, as such with your presence near our shores."

Shadow exhaled a gravelly mumble, visibly piqued. "We are not near your shores, Admiral. You are inexcusably threatening a navy of four destroyers, two cruisers, an aircraft carrier and thousands of Equestrian sailors. I highly recommend you stand down at once, for we pose no current danger to you or your fleet. However, we will not alter our course for your sake, and I personally do not welcome your behavior," he countered, not willing to withdraw just yet.

"Understood. We shall consider this an act of aggression toward our ponies, Eclipse. Failure of compliance is a deadly game you prove you are willing to play, especially if such can be circumvented in a civilized approach."

This managed to successfully infuriate Shadow, now resorting to raising his voice in aggravation to convey his disposition. "I recall such as an act of aggression, scraping my ship with your submarine, endangering my crew as well as your own! Should I rightfully remind you that we are both sailing in international waters, beyond the borders of any established country's territory? We are not in your path; you are in ours. I will say this once, and once alone. You will redirect your course, and should you come within one hundred yards of my ship, we will not hesitate to engage!"

After that, the channel went abruptly silent. Nothing, not even static or feedback. Shadow took this as a sign of defeat and hung up his receiver, taking his binoculars again for another glance. He remained this way for a few minutes, before the distant ships began a long and wide turn to their right, preemptively removing themselves from a collision course.

"That's what I thought..." Shadow mumbled, an edge added to his otherwise flat voice. He lowered his binoculars, keeping his gaze centered in that general bearing. "Bastards think they can give the orders around here. We may not outnumber them, although, we would only need two of our destroyers to wipe them all out before they have the chance to fire anything. Not so sure about the sub."

Unnerved by both the jolt and the radio discharge, cleaning up part of the mess caused by the collision, Sea Watch glanced up to look at the captain. "What about it, sir?"

"That submarine of theirs has first strike capabilities and is virtually undetectable in most aspects, even with our gadgets, so visual contact is our chief alternative of tracking it for the time being. Frankly, with its firepower, it could wipe us all out if that is what they are waiting to do. That is why we must remain attentive at all times in case of any uptick. But, I expect that should not be of much complication. I'll call up secondary watch early, and I presume Senior Chief Tacimo is already on his way up here."

Before anything else could be said, he picked up the intercom speaker, holding it there in his hoof in contemplation. Shadow's unwavering poker face set directed out the forward windshield, as if watching over his ship. After a few seconds, he raised the wire-attached device to his muzzle, pressing down on the speaker button.

"All aboard Eclipse, this is the captain. We are going to alert condition three. Be alert at all times and await instructions in case we must upgrade status. Repeat, we are going to alert condition three."

The three rest of us present individually exchanged glances, each expressing our own concern silently with one another while the greenish-grey captain pressed his forehooves along the table surface, leaning over it and gawking out over the horizon vigilantly, like a hawk on a high branch.

Placid seas stretched on for miles upon, touched with the faintest of wrinkles. Yet, hidden beneath the surface, they were cold and churning with deferred malice, lurking and monitoring our every move while it sat dormant, camouflaged eerily by the blue dark, rancorously scheming for the perfect moment.

That evening, I lay in my rack, alone in the compartment. Due to the shift changes, I now find myself in a routine where Nightpath and Ashfall finish up their days far later than I do and thus lonely for that time. My rotation came almost an hour ago, and I went straight to eat after a day of no food or, frankly, any proper breaks.

At dinner, I scarcely ate anything. Out of the roasted two potatoes, carrots, as well as a bowl of macaroni and cheese, only maybe a quarter of that made it down, as if the appetite I had while collecting my tray and sitting down had sliced itself in half on the second bite I took. The tension in the air prevented me from scarfing down a full meal with butterflies filling in the empty space before I could. In turn, any further attempt was met with gagging and moderate sickness. Thankfully, nothing came back up, though I had decided right then and there that I could not eat any longer.

Thus, here I lay, staring up at the shallow ceiling separating my bed from the one above. Drowsiness riddled my eyeballs with vague bloodshot while I blinked slowly, too deep in thought to doze off, and far too shaken from earlier as noted by the faint trembling my hooves continued to bear.

I knew the risk stood out, and quite honestly it was only fair that something had to happen yet again for the third time in a row. After the incident with the submarine, every sailor held a decent understanding of the present affairs and, in turn, everybody was alert for that looming possibility; an overbearing, frightening sense that those other ships may besiege abruptly if our guard is dropped for one measly minute. As a result, this stress mounted arduously and left no pony untouched.

Shadow's words from earlier rang in my head like an obnoxious bell, a reminder that falling asleep could end disastrously for me. Damn my oversensitive head for carelessly burdening me with this pressure that roused an unyielding, throbbing migraine which only drove sleep further from reach.

The safety of home could not have sounded better in that instance. In fact I dreamt of it significantly more than ever. Though I knew that would not happen. Not for four more weeks, unless something took place where we absolutely need to make port, either in Equestria or somewhere remotely close by. I am positive no one hopes for such for everyone's well being.

For a while I tossed and turned, hoping to find a comfortable spot to settle in. Minus the sweat drenching it, this was like the night before going out to the ship. The heat my body typically emit enhanced by the state I was in warmed my rack to the point where laying in it had become virtually insufferable. These ships always had poor air circulation, which is why some compartments have portable fans positioned in corners to produce some flow. Berthing compartments were by far the worst, particularly due to their size.

Like most nights, all I had on was a blue t-shirt that I wore under my uniform. For its material, it was fairly light. I contemplated stripping it off, however, to see if it might foster any sort of contrast in body temperature and put an end to my restlessness. After some time, I simply gave in and slid out of my rack carefully, head lowered to avoid smacking it on the ceiling between my own and the one above.

I took my jacket and threw it on, sliding the buttons through their holes without fumbling. Ten months of following this routine every day makes a huge difference. Around this time a year ago, when I first arrived at boot camp, it took me upwards of fifty seconds to put on a blouse, now it takes roughly ten seconds for the same task. I suppose wear on the material also comes into play, which would make getting ready for the day significantly easier and faster.

The watertight door momentarily screeched when I yanked it ajar, flooding light from the passageway in shape of the round-edged frame into the floor space between racks. This made me squint for a moment after having been long adjusted to the darkness of the room, before I stepped out over the steel lip, scanning the corridor in either direction it stretched.

Strolling toward the aft, I pondered silently. Perhaps hearing Ray's voice could alleviate some of the stress sagging my mind, like a ball and chain dragging behind a prisoner was my best way of describing it.

I veered into a short corridor that looped directly into the room where an array of simple computer monitors sat on long tables pressed against one another. The only light in there were the computer screens themselves, and most were idle from not being used. It came off as odd to me, finding myself to be the only pony present. Normally all hours of the day and night, there are quite a few in here making attempts to communicate with back home. Tonight was not the case.

The current alert level of the ship having everypony on edge registered to me as the probable cause behind the peculiar absence of homesick sailors. Nevertheless, I had the room to myself without the worry of somepony eavesdropping. Even though Silver knows what's up, I would prefer it remains that way concerning randoms who wander past when coming or going and might glance over my shoulder. Not that I expect anypony to, since that is just plain nosy.

Descending onto a chair in front of a vacant computer, I put a pair of headphones on my ears and pulled the microphone down to mouth level. Looking up at the monitor, now having logged in to Whynnie, hesitation halted my hoof from tapping the 'call' button on the screen, instead hovering the arrow cursor in a circle around it slowly. My lips pursed into a thin frown as a multitude of questions rushed through my head.

What am I going to tell him? What could I tell him? I can't just sit here, fake a smile, and lie to him. Everything is okay, but it isn't okay. But I can't panic him. What if something happens to me tomorrow? What if he finds out elsewhere and can't get ahold of me?

I inhaled deeply, releasing the breath softly. Just when I went to begin the call, a small window popped up in center of the screen. Beside an image of a prohibiting X symbol read in bold lettering, "Ray Blitz is not available at this time."

That answers that question, I suppose. A rather tender response to it and one I had not considered, though it turned out I had no other choice than to go along with it. Assuming he is home in Ponyville and not traveling for work purposes, it was still around mid or late afternoon in most parts. When I last took a peek out the porthole in my compartment, the sun had not yet fully disappeared below the horizon from where we were at sea, and the western sky continued to dance with oranges, yellows, and pinks with fading blues and greys the further east they spanned, fading ever so gradually as night fell.

With an aching tinge in my chest, I logged off the computer and reluctantly got up, leaving and walking without hurry in my pace back to my berthing. Atop the stress and worry of what could happen, my body ultimately plagued with exhaustion. It was too many conflicting emotions to deal with occurring at one time, disbanding any desire to distract myself from the circumstances occurring around me other than to forcibly call it a night and make a second wavering attempt to catch some rest.

***

I blinked apathetically, mouth parting for a hefty yet silent yawn that followed. A light water formed in my ducts and forced a few swift flutters of my lids to disperse the excess tears, all while closely surveying the washing machine as it rocked back and forth, vibrating rapidly while I waited for it to finish its cycle.

Apart from cleaning days, the laundromat existed as one of the limited spots outside of our berthings where anypony is granted to be out of uniform at any time. I was grateful for the exception, for what clothes I had worn on the walk over now noisily tumbled around the washer.

For that instance, I went without clothes, essentially forcing me to wait until they were clean. At least at home I could get away with passing the time elsewhere without needing a uniform or, really, any kind of clothing; I swear, one of the biggest peeves of mine on these blasted deployments. If it isn't one thing, it is most certainly the other. Always a contrary.

Free to anyone's use, plastic containers of detergent were provided and constantly kept in stock. To the dismay of a copious many, it was only one specific brand. From time to time, someone would vocalize their annoyance, usually to themselves whenever they drop by to do their laundry manually with one of the five washers and five dryers lined on opposite sides of each other.

I did not have any special predilection regarding it. They were all the same virtually, just with different labels from various companies. Same goes for dishwasher tabs and whatnot, repeatedly an identical outcome. I tend to go for whatever is cheaper, I guess. Perhaps I am that fortunate to have not ever faced poor experiences in that matter to where preference isn't an issue.

The intense vibrating and rocking motions of the washer soon ceased, followed by an audible click of the lid's lock and a rather obnoxious buzzing tone that signaled the end of the cycle, by which I could transfer my clothes over to the dryer at last. Nothing more than a one-minute task, but the beginning of another hour-long wait.

Two uneasy weeks went by with no irregularities. Well, none, excluding one or two incursions and near-misses where one of the Ajerstanian cruisers purposely turned into our path and came within a hundred feet of a collision, by which we would have blindsided them accidentally had the circumstances been different. It pissed off Shadow to no end to where he would constantly attempt contact with their fleet admiral, only to be met with silence. The bastards probably all chuckled whenever he would, knowing their sneaky asses.

Additionally, constant reports were being transmitted to the head of command, and the head of naval operations, but more prominently—the princesses. After all, it is our obligation to relay occurrences such as these to them. If we ever find ourselves in a time of war, communication is key. It's their orders we follow; where to go, what for, what to attack, and who. Officers like Shadow may give counter injunctions, though it is at his expense for insubordination no matter the outcome. It just depends on how well or poorly the consequences turn out. Despite his title as commanding officer of the Eclipse, he nevertheless is nowhere near the top of the chain of command, not counting the royalty that runs Equestria.

Though, there are exceptions. For instance, should the Ajerstanians follow through with their threats and launch an attack or attempt to board (which even I knew was extremely far-fetched), he may ultimately determine to engage with the support of our accompanying escort ships within a tight-knit distance. Shadow is right, though; it would only take two of our ships to wipe them all out. It is, however, the submarine that we have to be most concerned about, even if their instruments are not nearly adequate against what we possessed.

I ceased zoning out after some time when my ears caught on to a set of hooves neared from a small adjacent room, along with a short exchange of greeting from the stallion looking over the laundromat. Hauling in a basket with ease across her back, a familiar sailor mare whose fur was white as the capped peaks of Mount Canter and had her gold-red stripe mane up in a bun trotted in. I recognized her immediately as the same pony from the second pre-deployment briefing.

Shifting my stance a bit to make room for her in the narrow space, she rolled up to a separate vacant machine and dropped her basket, full of an assortment of uniforms and leisure wear, such as hoodies and t-shirts.

Unless spoken to or looking to ask a question, Lemoore was known among our circle as a particularly quiet mare nonetheless. A prime example of a sailor, nearly up to par with Anchorage. Hell, she could have been his female opposite. Never thought I would see the day where I can admit that.

With her line of work, Lemoore never has much more than a minute or two to chat with anyone. Especially on her way in here, I noticed she was in somewhat of a hurry to load her laundry. Although, that is how she can be. The mare has quite a pace to her which, against what a couple of our fellow crew mates find as mildly unnatural, she considers it her average speed of working. Having known of a few other mares not too dissimilar than her, both within and beyond the military, I shrugged it off.

She threw open the washer lid and started throwing her clothes in a couple at a time, but with that outmatching speed to where her basket was empty in less than sixty seconds. I chose against watching from the corner of my eye, fixated on the dryer in front of me. "Morning," I said tiredly, with enough volume for her to hear above the noise.

Her eyes darted over for a split second while she unscrewed the bottle cap of some detergent, sprinkling the bluish-tinted powder into the barrel atop her laundry. "Good morning, Shooter."

"Anything new?" I questioned in a poised, cordial tone, focusing ahead of me without once looking in her direction. A bit of small talk couldn't hurt to pass the time, I thought, assuming I don't somehow screw up and creep her out. Seeing as we were both part of bridge crew and hadn't conversed in any casual talk, this was just bound to become awkward.

"That depends. New in my life, or new in general?" she countered amiably. Didn't expect a return question, that clever mare.

"Whichever, I won't pry." I assured her, quelling another small yawn afterward. Damn my lack of sleep to hell.

"I would say life is fairly decent, thank you. The hubby's seeing his mother, so, he's managing to keep himself occupied while I am away," she replied. A benign smile crossed her muzzle, the result of what I presumed to be a picture of her family back home popping into her head.

"Didn't know you were married," I noted, chuckling transiently. Always learning something about your fellow pony, Star.

"Gotta wrench the single stallions off one way or another," Lemoore remarked with an accompanying grin, slamming the washer lid closed and twisting a couple of knobs to start it.

She isn't wrong. Seafaring sailors underway for weeks, sometimes months at a time tend to get a little... lecherous, which can lead to one or two ponies landing in a heap of trouble. "I don't blame you, not one bit. The ship's no place for that."

"I concur," she nodded, letting off a heavy but contented exhale while continuing, "What can I say, though? Testosterone's through the flight deck by week three. They're all starting to get desperate for some fun."

"Right." I simpered, chuckling in casual agreement. "Stallions."

That garnered an eccentric glimpse from the mare as the washer she occupied started to hiss, spraying inside with water and steadily churning at first. "What does that make you, then?"

"I don't share their tendencies, Petty Officer," I defended, hoping the use of her rank might diminish the sudden antipathy and quite possibly also a big mistake. "I'm not trying to take advantage of you for who you are."

"Okay, okay. I get you, Shooter," she gestured for me to tone down a bit, rejoining with, "I would hope not, anyway," before she returned her attention to the washer as it picked up speed. "We are preparing to deploy the AEW squadron," Lemoore mentioned after a minute of perturbed silence.

My cores grew moderately wider, blinking twice and ears perking attentively at her continuance. I felt the tension return in the form of a tightening gut. "When?"

"Some time this evening, after dusk. Less conspicuous under the cover of night." She threw a brief glance in my direction. From it I noticed her own vivid concern on the matter.

"I know we are keeping a lead on them, but..."

"I had a sneaking suspicion that they were coming along for a reason," Lemoore glowered, tersely interrupting. "That senior chief lied to us. You could see it on the captain's expression. He was giving that 'what the hell are you doing' look. Don't tell me you missed it?"

My head shook in response. "Actually, I cannot think of anypony present who didn't catch it. Something about that stallion feels off, I can't quite put my hoof on it."

"He's a strange one, that stallion," she shrugged dismissively. "Don't know where the captain found him."

"They are friends, apparently. Or acquaintances. Doesn't mean I am too fond of him. Hell, any time he opens his mouth I consider leaping out the windshield, or if he so much as breathes in my direction!" The truth was out. Hopefully no one nearby overheard and was on their way to report me. I knew she wouldn't judging by the brief nicker she gave.

"But, he acts his rank, that's old news. He owns that authority. Does not mean I agree with his decision to blatantly lie to our faces," I continued, waving my hoof.

Lemoore snorted. "Well, if the captain were smart, he would have stepped in and told the truth."

"He wasn't about to betray him like that. If they are as good of friends as I believe they are, and assuming he enjoys to disagree, Tacimo won't take lightly to it if that happened. Shadow isn't about to lose his boatswain. Not saying I don't see where you are coming from, though."

The snow-white mare cocked her head, ear flicking. "By the way, what ever happened to his old second-up? Wasn't he a Marine?"

"Yeah, he was..." I mulled, nodding. For a moment in my mind, the eerie image of Arc's glowing cores in the dark of that hallway flashed back.

Lemoore further tilted her head sideways in further bewilderment. "It isn't my business, but..." Oh, here we go. "...why would he appoint a Marine such a status on a ship? They merely sit around and do nothing! No offense to you."

I smiled sincerely. "None taken." Whew. "I don't think that is how it actually worked. More than him and the senior chief, Captain Shadow and Second Lieutenant Arc Nobis were close friends. Because Arc was reassigned to shore-side, it was decided that he can come along for deployments, so... I suppose it just happened. Maybe they both meant Marine second-up instead."

"Why was he reassigned? Do you know?" Lemoore seemed genuinely curious now.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I do not. That is all I've been told."

"Huh, peculiar." She shrugged, looking back at the washer. "Oh well. None of my business." I nodded in agreement.

Shortly afterward, the conversation died down, where we then focused on our laundry while we waited for them to finish. Her mentioning it had me also mentally questioning why Arc had been transferred. Not that it mattered much at this point, since he has been under house arrest and seeing a psychologist for some time now.

***

Boredly, the dark draft stallion bounced a little blue stress ball off the reinforcement bulkhead adjacent to his dashboard. Without much to be done and everything supposedly running smoothly from his end, occasionally he would kick back and play catch with himself in an attempt to entertain himself, although it eventually became monotonous and fairly exhausting. Yawns escaped Night's widely-parted maw every so often, smacking and licking his lips to wet them down. He downed gulps of water from his bottle made of stainless steel, having to keep hydrated while in Engineering.

Air conditioning was considered a luxury in this section of the ship, added to the fact that heat from the reactor powering the Eclipse radiated and collected in the individual compartments surrounding it. Thankfully, however, temperatures did not exceed tolerable numbers, but he and everypony else he worked with knew water is a must at all times of the day to combat the hot and sticky conditions.

When Night chose his nuclear engineering rate in the Marines, frankly the last thing he anticipated was to be put on a ship. He did not expect to have sailors for coworkers who have chosen the Navy-equivalent of that exact rate. He never put much mind into it, seeing as everypony usually kept their blouses off or tied around their barrels to beat the compartment's tenacious warmth.

As far as he was concerned, they were one in the same, sharing the ship as their sailing base and it was their job to ensure every working piece of machinery performs as it was built to. Sometimes for this he is among the many nicknamed as 'greasers', or the ponies who wake up every morning to have grime and grease slick their manes, hooves, and clothes.

While he sat in monotony, suddenly, an alert from the computer monitor at his station jolted him upright. His sky-blue irides instantaneously glued to the screen to read the issue that had popped up in the form of an error window that flashed prominently in alternating reds and yellows, blinking once or twice to assert he wasn't hallucinating. As he had been trained for, Night tapped a few buttons to work out the issue. But its outcome took a turn that pursed his mouth into a frown of mild annoyance mixed with concern.

Without delay, he turned straight to his boss, who was just returning from a quick run to the compartment over. "We've got a loss of pressure in the coolant loop," Night declared to snatch his attention.

The stallion, an orchid unicorn with the rank of chief petty officer, made his way over to Night's post. "Well, switch it to backup."

"I did, sir, no effect," Night responded, not once removing his gaze from his computer screen. What he was seeing had him in minor disbelief. "Reactor pressure is dropping, temperature starting to rise, and steam pressure increasing."

Just then, a second wailing alarm sounded. This wail had a slightly deeper tone than the one preceding it, and it originated somewhere other than his computer. It was one that stood both of their ears up straight. Behind them, one crew member called, "Low pressure turbine exceeding RPM!"

"Switch to the high gear turbine!" ordered the chief, right as others scrambled to work on the situation. The alarm silenced to just a flashing light along the sides of the room, illuminating the windowless space with intermittent red.

Levers, buttons, and switches were thrown and pressed. As an expected result of the actions, one turbine kicked on in replacement of the other. Watching the change from his computer screen, Nightpath glowered with worry and frustration. "Steam pressure is still on the rise. Reactor temperature is reading at 650 degrees and still climbing!" he exclaimed.

The unicorn chief grunted in irritation, questioning and pondering solutions rapidly before making a sudden judgement, "Scram the reactor and ready the backup, we are going to switch over to that."

From a nearby control console, an earth pony petty officer chimed in. "That is only half the solution, Chief, we still need to cool the primary. That is top priority if we are to prevent a meltdown."

Problems simply kept rising, along with the temperature in the compartment. More than ever did the sailors and Marine sweat in one instance than for an entire day's worth. "Then we should find the leak, shouldn't we? Run an integrity scan."

Night nodded comprehensively and began typing away on his keyboard. He frequently tossed a hoof up to his forehead to wipe off a fresh slick of nervous and temperature-induced sweat that re-collected in between those few moments while he waited tensely for the data to return. These scans were relatively fast and, for the most part, completely accurate. "It's inside the pressure vessel. I am afraid we cannot reach it from here."

"Damn it," the chief grumbled, muffled by the reactor's deep and constant rumbling. He made his way over to a phone to call up and report the situation.

Only a mere moment after directing the call to the bridge with the simple push of a button, the captain picked up, sounding seemingly expectant of the call. "Engineering, bridge. I do not recall ordering more speed, what's going on?"

"We have a problem down here, Captain," the chief began, "the primary reactor has suffered a leak inside the vessel, and we're switching to the secondary for now, but we've got no way to effectively cool down the primary reactor. Core temperature is rising rapidly."

Shadow's tone changed within seconds of the news hitting his ears. "What kind of leak? Where is it located?"

"Coolant leak, sir, inside the primary loop. It is in the pressure vessel, where we can't get to, but it is contained for right now," the chief returned firmly, managing to keep his tone level.

"Continue startup of the secondary reactor, isolate the primary from the rest of the system and flood it with seawater if you have to. We cannot afford a meltdown. Not out here, not anywhere. There's twenty-five hundred ponies on this carrier who are all under my watch."

Despite the captain not being capable of seeing him physically, the chief nodded, understanding of what was at stake and what will happen with his orders. "Aye, sir. But, a bit of forewarning, we are going to lose all power and propulsion for some time."

Coexisting with stoicism, Shadow questioned with a distinct tinge of genuine concern in his demeanor, "For how long do you propose?"

"Thirty minutes, maybe forty. We are figuring it out as we speak, skip," the chief answered, only partially unsure of himself, though he needed a response on the fly.

"Understood. Get to work on that right away. Send someone up with updates when and if necessary. I would like to know the minute you do if it comes to where we must abandon ship."

"No worries, skip. We should be back to normal operations in no time." As soon as he hung up, he turned to everypony in the control room. "All right, we're flooding the primary reactor! Everybody step on it!"

***

Shadow hung up the phone receiver and released a stiff and weighted exhale. Though the full conversation remained strictly between the two of them, the words spoken from him concerned us enough. "We can't stay put in the water. We just cannot. We will be sitting ducks."

"We are going dead stop, Captain?" Tacimo blinked, having just recently stepped hoof on the bridge on schedule.

"Gonna have to. Engineering's reporting a leak with the coolant in the primary reactor and it's overheating, that is why we are gaining so much speed. They will have to flood the chamber with seawater to prevent the rods from reaching a critical temperature, because that would poison everyone on this forsaken ship and everything for hundreds of miles of ocean all around, and that will flow eastward."

Well, that is reassuring to my already-stressed mind. More so recalling that the Eclipse is, in fact, dependent on radioactive heat transforming water to vapor for energy without the need for conventional fuel, like what the other ships in the fleet are forced to use.

"What about the Ajerstanians, sir?" I questioned. I had been aware for some time that they had fallen behind radar contact, so no one really had any clue of where they were. Not us, nor our accompanying destroyers and cruisers.

"We will have to let them catch up with us if they are continuing pursuit," Shadow answered, disinclined. "I want you to keep your eyes on your monitors at all times, Corporal. Keep in mind we will be in the dark for around a half an hour according to Engineering."

I nodded understandingly. "Aye, sir." Just a few hours prior, his concern had lowered as soon as we pulled ahead of the other fleet. Believing we were out of harm's way relieved everypony for the most part. That is, until now.

For as long as I could, up until every electronic flicked off as consequence of the reactor shutting down, I watched my screens individually with eagle eyes. At any moment I expected an unidentifiable blip to appear, trailed by seven others, and I wouldn't know if they did during the outage time until we were up and running again.

Without the help of radar or sonar, our only method of tracking nearby vessels was visually, about as far as the horizon would grant. Before the outage commenced, Shadow had informed the crew below deck of the problem with the reactor, as well as that we would be forced to go dead in the water and proceeded to call up additional sailors to provide watch on the port and starboard of the island. From there, they could easily call out through an open window if they spot something out of the ordinary.

He also gave the order to drop the anchor to ensure we won't drift off into unfamiliar waters, especially if ships such as the Gibbous and Aphelion are keeping close on our flanks. Along with the other destroyers and cruisers, they formed a circle of protection around the Eclipse. Even though we were strictly out of contact with them as far as radio signals go, they are to maintain visual contact and defend in case the Ajerstanians come back.

With night rapidly approaching, that task will not be so simple. Navy ships tend not to have many lights on for security, only small ones that might disguise us as any civilian vessel. Alas, if the power isn't restored before then, we are sure blend with the dark of the water. At least that gives some sense of safety among the crew, assuming the others are not as advanced to be equipped with night vision.

Then, out of the blue, our prayers were answered. The lights flickered on across the whole of the flight deck as well as the bridge. We were back in business at last, a whole two minutes earlier than expected.

Not long after, Shadow's phone rang. Assuming it was from engineering, he picked it up immediately. However, the bittersweet moment cut short when the proud and alleviated look on his face floundered, transforming to a disapproving frown.

"I am afraid I have more bad news, skip. We did manage to get the power restored to the ship, so there's that, but we cannot get the backup reactor to switch over for propulsion."

"What are you saying, Chief? How long are we going to be stuck here?"

"Two, three days, at least. There is not much we can do from where we currently stand. If what we do does not work, we may have to radio in for a tow. Just my assumption."

"That could take a week or more until they can reach us. Even then that simply does not help our present situation!"

"I'm sorry, skip. I assure you we are trying our best down here, but she is giving us a tantrum like any we have seen before."

Sighing, rubbing a hoof along his forehead with his eyes closed, Shadow nodded into the phone. "Affirmative. Keep me updated," he concluded, hanging up afterward and hunching over his console. His uneasy stare gawked off into the darkening abyss beyond the ship's aft.

We all focused on him expectantly, awaiting answers. I dashed my eyes around for a moment to study everypony else, then returned to Shadow, who had stepped down and swiveled his body to face us. I felt as though I understood before he had the chance to speak up.

"The boys below deck are having issues switching over power for the engines to the secondary reactor now that the primary is offline. We aren't going anywhere for a little while. Thankfully we are able to keep everything else running smoothly until a solution is worked out."

Shadow inhaled sharply and deeply, arching his head back in a light stretch. "Unfortunately, this gives the Ajerstanians a prime chance to come within missile or torpedo range. Provided that happens, we, nonetheless, have our defense systems, not to mention the rest of our fleet to back us up should matters escalate."

The senior chief off to his right blinked, puzzled. "What about our mission, Captain?" Of course you had to, Tacimo.

"Frankly I am more concerned about getting us on the move. We have been unsuccessful thus far in finding anything in our search, and I have a ship full of anxious sailors who are asking unanswered questions. Personally, the safety of my crew is my utmost importance for the time being."

Tacimo's brows lowered into a scowl. "Sir, we cannot abandon our mission. Not for a second time. On top of that, you cannot look me in the eye and tell me we won't show assertion to these narcissistic assholes if they so as make radar contact again!"

Like a bullet had been fired from his glare, Shadow twisted himself to face the arrogant-minded sailor forwardly. "I refuse to start a war with a country who would be elated to now have a justifiable reason to defend themselves at sea, Senior Chief. Until you commandeer a ship and have a crew of your own, you will not give the orders on my command deck! I suggest you take a stick of glue and shut your fucking trap before I toss you off the aircraft platform myself!"

His words cut deep into the senior chief, who in turn flinched back. He repaid with silence and a look of disgust. Had this not been the military, the three of us observing might have started clapping.

Shifting his focus over, Shadow cooled himself and notably slackened his posture before he continued. "We will be launching the AEW as soon as all light fades. They will be capable of tracking that sub without arousing suspicion for as long as they have the fuel to remain airborne," he then glanced over to my station. "Corporal, weather report?"

***

A couple of hours since dusk, Shadow had walked off the bridge to head below deck and brief the Airborne Early Warning flight squadron and thus leaving Senior Chief Tacimo to watch duty, much to our dismay.

Better late than never, I guess. My shift was soon over and thus came my rotation for the night. Finally, I could from the senior chief, not that he had said much after their scuffle. Lemoore could not have been more correct, there really is something off about that stallion.

I walked into my compartment, scanning briefly to see if anyone might have been in there sleeping. A quiet exhale dribbled from my lips. For the past seven hours my heart continued to pound against the wall of my chest while I remained in a perturbed state. Due to it, I decided against having supper to avoid accidentally sickening myself. With every rapid pump surged out a wave of anxiety, like ripples in water surrounding a still object or figure. It was easily one of the worst conceivable feelings to bear, and once again, it was the real deal.

Today only marked the thirteenth consecutive day since the tension first began and the anxiety that followed close behind. Over those days it had steadily worn itself off, only to pick right back up when something new came about. This was not like those other times where the threat virtually jumped at our faces all at once. No, this was lingering, persistent. The idea that those pricks were following us anywhere we go, no matter what we do, was beyond the boundaries of nerve-wracking and plain nettling to say the least.

Neither of us were truly certain that their actions were meant to scare us away, or if they were legitimate warnings and we have been testing our luck for this long. They claimed to be out here for the same reason we were according to Shadow, though I find that hard to believe. Recalling back to a pre-deployment briefing before this one, prior to the hurricane, he did once mention the Ajerstanians and their close ally and their enmity towards Equestria. It wouldn't come as much of a shock to me in the least if they undoubtedly are standing by long enough to start a war.

Whatever it was going on back in Canterlot regarding the 'Cold stare' as virtually every pony on the ship now called it was apparently confidential to everypony. Not even Shadow was in on anything. The name came about when the televisions up around the mess deck reported on the situation except, to our surprise, it wasn't the Lunar Fleet that was the main topic. Rather it was Ajerstan that became the primary focus on most reports involving the pressure overseas.

I believe that was a significant reason as to why Shadow has been so apprehensive lately, nor can I really blame him for it. Anypony who is remotely aware of what is going on beyond the steel bulkheads that shielded us for right now would be, too.

Heading in to my berthing to relax for the evening, I sighed in a depressive manner, kicking the door closed with my hind hoof somewhat strenuously. The force of it slamming shut reverberated off of the metallic walls and absorbed into the padded-tile flooring. My mind went elsewhere in that instance as I took a few steps further into the slender area. Eerily enough, the space gradually darkened around me. As I begun to zone out suddenly, both of my ears swiveled back.

Any vigilant pony would have noticed the irregular and discernible respirating motions of my chest as fast breaths entered and exited my nostrils in a vaguely audible demeanor, yet I did not somehow, despite it physically moving my shoulders with each inhale. The heaving worsened into a dreadful, fully fledged attack as the seconds ticked past. Soon I realized myself becoming partially enveloped by the looming dark that exponentially shadowed the room, closing in little by little with me in dead center, yet I still never ultimately took notice.

A surge of undesired emotions struck me simultaneously: sadness, anger, bitterness, accompanied by recollections I adamantly refused to revisit, each one battering my mind like a continual punch. The mixture of feelings took a firm grasp on my trembling form with digging claws that on the cusp of puncturing my skin and spilling out my lifeline onto the berthing floors. The walls appeared to close in gradually, trapping me in place, and the spotlight that fixated on me alone shrunk threateningly.

I knew shit was falling apart the first time this all happened, when they blew a hole in the ship and started boarding through it. Then when the city exploded into chaos at the start of their attack. It was growing to be too much for my head to wrap around, even if those were both well off in the past, but also still fairly recent in time. It didn't matter either way. Fact was, the feeling of adrenaline-fueled fear in either state of affairs was rapidly reoccurring this very second.

Static filled my ears as any remaining sense of perception gradually vanished. Not like the kind of static feedback from a radio, but more on the lines of ringing and buzzing like a fly's wings, albeit far from a ringing sound; deeper, creepier. It fogged my mind and rendered my conscience silent in a triflingly sinister behavior, forcing me into running off of a nonexistent instinct without any aid of understanding reality. My ear flicked twice heavily, followed by the other with both attempting to wear off the strange sense and even compelled me to rub one of them with a hoof.

For only a brief second did I snap out of this weird trance, my body jolting as all sound momentarily blasted into my ears before it muted again. Cores of ruby-crimson dilated when a lukewarm perspiration accumulated above my shock-raised brows, between the thin wrinkles along my forehead. My breath caught silently to the realization dawning on me. It was happening all over again. Why me? I slurred. What did I do to merit these feelings?

The rush in the midst of this slowdown was deadened by an abrupt nausea that roiled my stomach, contorting it into many tight and twisting knots. Fighting through this fog was a battle on its own, and no end appeared to be within reach. It grew to be too overwhelming, and I finally decided to take matters into my own hooves.

Both of my hooves took hold of my head, shaking it slowly at first. "Stop it!" I screamed at the top of my lungs that my mind perceived as my inner voice, swiftly throwing myself at the wall on the lower end of my rack. Initially my hooves impacted, then my forehead with a loud metallic thud. The blow discharged an intense ache that spread beyond the site of contact throughout my entire head, compressing it excessively into the cold steel that lined this tiny quarter.

My teeth grit together, suppressing an anguished cry as my eyes slammed shut, lids clenching tightly and trembled with tears squeezing narrowly in between. The chords down my throat burned in ramification of the wail I resentfully emitted. A sense of hopelessness usurped, and what little of myself was left grew desperate to flee the prison of my own mind.

The past was bound to make a second run. It took its time, around nine months to be precise, and it was quickly rebounding in full swing. Like somepony had taken a baseball bat built upon former miserable ordeals and locked target with my very essence, purposed to revive those horrid reminders that I have fought to leave behind.

I jerked my head backward, and in a moment's notice crashed it forcefully into the wall, and repeatedly I began slamming my forehead with all the leftover strength in me without consideration for the damage it could result in. With each blow my brain jutted about, harshly being knocked around up above.

I wanted it to stop. I wanted all of it to end immediately, even if it meant driving myself out of consciousness.

The entirety of my skull burst with a throbbing twinge that boiled my blood and shot a blazing inferno into my chest, a rage that urged me further until I could no longer retain the strength to keep going. Dazed, I staggered backwards, losing strength in my legs and falling onto my haunches. Pained groans cut between my teeth as I raised a trembling hoof to the side of my head. My vision blurred and doubled, and was spinning in circles.

As if curtains had been draped over me with what light there was, it faintly attempted to reel back whilst awareness of my surroundings gradually returned. My gaze lifted to the wall in front of me, setting upon a drooling streak of ichor that rolled down it slowly. The metal itself was, to my consternation, now dented inward taking a rounded shape of my forehead as consequence of the constant hits it took.

The skin above my brow had fluctuated with a combination of lighter blues and reds as it bruised, dripping small droplets of blood delicately in the form of a running stripe falling down my upper muzzle between my eyes. I closed the right lid to stop it from entering my eye and wiped it gently, grunting at the sting from merely touching it, holding my quivering hoof further beyond my face to examine the reddish sap carefully.

Dizziness had begun to settle in, as every blink and bat became a laborious task and a struggle to keep myself alert to a degree. Shaky, deep breaths by which my drooping ears barely picked up shifted my shoulders with every inhale. My bell had most certainly been rung, I knew that much. The cloud obscuring my conscience evaporated, impulsively causing my mind to explode in a conflicted muse of disarray. The majority of my thoughts at the time consisted of questions surrounding what just happened, if I was okay, or if I should seek immediate medical attention for the self-inflicted wound.

Rightfully, I had no true indication of what move I should make then. The persisting misery covering much of my forehead and one of the worst all-around migraines I have ever felt took a substantial toll on my perception. Distress began to cross my mind that the damage was far worse than anticipated, and it only doubled when a voice from the doorway behind me startlingly hollered, "Star! What in the hell are you doing?!"

Author's Note

New questions build for Star, his friends, and the Eclipse crew.

Because I wanted to save the majority of the buildup for this chapter, I decided to leave 29 fairly short but still include enough to set the tension for this one and carry on into the next.

31. Discharge Disclosure

The racket of my skull banging against solid steel echoed louder than expected, after having seized Silver's attention from out of the blue where he raced to my berthing see what was going on. Somehow, he already had a hunch of what the source of it was.

"Star, stop that!" he yelled emphatically, dropping to my side and easing me upright after nearly falling flat to the floor. "Are you alright?"

I brought a hoof up to my temple and held it there, blinking slowly, moving my gaze over and taking note of the worry all over his face. "I-it's just a little bit of blood. I am fine, Silver..."

"A little bit is an understatement, Star! What the hell is your problem?!" he jumped ahead suddenly and clutched my shoulders, locking his gaze with mine forcibly. "What's gotten into you?!" My body trembled with fear. I was on the verge of breaking down, and he could see that. Silver let himself ease up some, getting out of my face. "Star, are you okay?"

Deep down, I was far from okay. There was no use in masking the repression now that it virtually showed off in vibrant color. Yet I could not muster the courage to fully speak my mind. Slowly, my head begun to shake, ears pinning back. "No, Silver, I'm... not okay. Not in that context."

"Duly noted," he continued his focus solely on me. "What was that all about, man? You can tell me. Is it something personal? Is it, uh..." he paused to ponder. "Is it Ray?"

My gaze shifted up to his. I shook my head firmly this time. "No... no, no. We are fine, actually. But, it... it vaguely involves him."

"Then what is it, Star?" he grabbed a cloth, gently pressing it to my forehead. I winced and jerked back immediately. The material against the exposed bruise immensely burned and stung all at the same time.

"I... just... I can't take it, Silver. I can't stand the lingering fear that I might wake up and we all get blown out of the water by those abominable excuses of ponies. It's just too much to handle."

"The submarine?" I nodded. "The other ships?" Again, I nodded. "I get you. Everypony's on edge because of it. Are we still on a threat condition?"

"I don't know..." I groaned, leaning against the side of a rack and lowering my hooves to my sides. "I don't... want to know."

Silver's mouth curled into a brooding lower. "I'm sorry I couldn't be around to help you, Star. I truly am."

For some unexplainable reason, a smile then sprouted from ear to ear. The state of disarray I was in from essentially inflicting a concussion on myself critically addled my comprehension, thus compelling me to lose partial control over my emotions in front of Silver. "You didn't do anything wrong, heheh... heh..."

He goggled with consternation, rising to his hooves and tugging me carefully up along with him. "Come on, Star, you're going to sickbay."

I swatted at him to let go. Silver released his gentle grip on my shoulders rather instantly. "I'll be fine. Is not that bad," I slurred.

"Look at yourself, you idiot! You're turning delusional! Come on, we are going to get you help!" he snarled, snatching my collar and dragging me towards the door.

"Grrr, god damn it, I'm fine!" I snapped, wrenching free of his grasp and smacking his hoof away a second time, scowling incandescently. "Leave it be! I'll be fine, I just need to lay down!"

"Star!" he retorted, livid. "What if you have dain bramage?!"

My head cocked, squinting at him. "Are you sure it is me who has it?"

Silver's irides expanded in realization, shaking his head rapidly. "Th-that was... just a test, and you passed. That's beside the point. You need medical attention, now! You hit yourself hard enough to crack your head open, you are saying shit you don't even understand or know that you are saying, and that is solid enough proof for me!"

He just does not give up, groused my muddled conscience. For a third time, I slapped his hoof, this time before he managed to grab my blouse again. I held it until he set it down, glaring resolutely right back at me.

Both brows knitted in my own hoof after dipping my head into it and exhaling deeply. Even with my eyes closed, the world spun, nauseously churning my stomach a bit. "Look, I... I am fine. I'm going to lay down, and everything will be all right. I need to sleep, anyhow."

The unicorn's glower went unyielding. His voice moderately roughened when he said, "I can't lose you too because you refuse to be cooperative! I can't bear to lose another friend to something so damn stupid!"

Every ounce of blood in my veins spilled out through the cut his words produced, causing me to shrink back. Annoyance previously shown toward Silver subsided in that instance. I felt my heart shatter seeing his magenta irides glass over with accumulating tears. We both went dead silent with the only noise in the passageway being a faint rumble emit from below deck.

"Why... for the love of Luna... must you be so damned stubborn?!" he wept, ears pinning. "You remind me... too much! Of him!"

I blinked a couple of times, cocking my head, having no clue who he was talking about. "I remind you of who?"

Silver clenched his teeth, voicing with a lowered tone, "Who do you reckon?" dipping his chin slightly.

I mused in silence for a few moments. Genuinely I had no proper guess as to who he was referencing to. The vagueness of his assertion left me puzzled, shrugging my shoulders in response. It made him gape lightly in disbelief.

"Really... you do not know who I am talking about? Did you forget that easily?" he practically whispered.

No... he couldn't have been talking about him. Could he? "Is that how you remember him?"

"Not Solar," he shook his head, softening his countenance. "Someone else we know."

I blinked again. "Anchorage?" narrowing my eyes shadily. "He is the prince of stubborn. Don't compare me to him in that aspect."

"I am." Silver firmly nodded, glaring faintly again. "He is who you are turning into, and it concerns the hell out of me."

"And what about you? Three weeks at sea and this is only the second time I have seen you, how am I the stubborn one when you have been intentionally avoiding your friends?" I gently shoved my hoof into his chest, backing him up a step.

He knew I had a point right there. The look on his face said it; the guilt standing out more prominently along with his head tucking into his neck in shame. In the form of an exhale, Silver confessed, "You win," rubbing along his hoof softly and holding his ears down. He sighed again, adding, "But, please, don't kill yourself over stress. Even if I'm not around, you have Ash, Night, and Anchor to talk to."

"I know." I nodded gently, wincing as my headache returned. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too." Silver bobbed in return. "I promise, I will make an effort to say hello more. It is wrong of me to steer myself away like I have."

"You are busy, I understand that much. Everypony here is, especially with all of... this," I waved my hoof around generally. "Don't neglect your duties because you feel the need to check up on me or the others every single day, you hear?"

He nodded in understanding. "I hear you, Star. You know I'm still paranoid after the fact."

I could see that. In all honesty, so was I. Since Solar Wave's funeral, I have prayed and vowed to prevent losing anypony else. Even now there was still retribution to be had for his death, his life that he so willingly gave up to save our lives. I could understand Silver's apprehensiveness, primarily after that outburst of mine.

"Same here, Silver. Same here," I gave a faint yet reassuring smile, blinking somewhat tiredly. "I'll—"

"Hey there, Star."

My muscles stiffened lightly when the voice spoke, ears standing attentively on my head. I glanced over my shoulder, blinking, head cocking to the side in mild bewilderment as I briefly studied the sailor who had walked up from behind in the passageway. "Can I help you?" I asked.

The earth pony stallion, arctic-blue in color and stocky in build, swished his tail slowly and had a faint grin on his muzzle. "Of course you can. You see, I have a... small problem going on, and you seem like the right stallion to help me out."

I narrowed my eyes onto the sailor, taking note of his silver collar insignias—a single downward-pointing arrow beneath crossing anchors and the Navy avian, the rank of petty officer third class. My gaze lifted to meet his as I turned to face him. "What do you need?" Then, my eyes grew wide in revelation. "...And, how do you know my name?"

He smiled, which took a vaguely lascivious twist to it. "Oh, you know, it goes around, especially when we're all sharing a boat. You are a radarpony, no? That isn't exactly a secret, so, everypony sort of learns each others' rates underway."

That came across as peculiar. Virtually everything about this sailor did. I looked at his name tag, "Rondache?" that sounded awfully familiar. I glanced back up at him, scrutinizing with suspicion. "All right. What's up?"

The stallion's sage irides darted around me to Silver for a split second, then back. His expression riddled with notion, one I was skeptical to make out. I locked stares with Rondache, oblivious to his hoof sliding unobtrusively to his pant pocket below his belt. Silver, however, carefully followed the limb with his eyes. He watched as it tugged free the corner of a white cloth, holding it there.

"You know... Corporal..." Rondache's voice lowered to a near whisper. "You're resourceful. I like that. Your coltfriend is lucky to have a stallion like you."

My eyes shot wide open. How does he know about Ray?

Then it struck me.

"Y-you—"

His hoof emerged from his pocket and threw towards my muzzle, the cloth held tight in it. I threw my head back slightly out of reflex in hopes of dodging, yet I was too slow. But, his hoof never reached. In the blink of an eye, it held frozen, inches from my face. Rondache was grunting in effort, his arm trembling in a struggle to shatter the garnet aura cast that encased it.

Eyes enlarging in confoundment, I flicked them directly at Silver, who lowered himself into a defensive stance, horn illuminated with an identical sanguine emanation that trapped the sailor's burly hoof. He groaned in the fight to hold him still, only momentarily wavering his fixate on Rondache to look at me. Silver threw his head to the side, by which an audible snap emit from the immobilized ligament that had the muscular stallion howling with pain and falling to his haunches.

Rondache impulsively loosened his grip on the cloth and grasped his hoof instead, which now deformed disproportionately. The bone itself visibly prodded the skin beneath with a bulging lump where it had nauseatingly contorted at the tendon. His bloodcurdling screams persisted, quickly turning to shouts of fear as he was pulled up into the air by his broken hoof. He kicked his legs in attempt to free himself, only to be launched to my and Silver's immediate left forcefully.

Crashes shook the passageway as the stallion soared, demolishing through the bulkheads of five individual compartments before coming to a rest clear on the opposite side of the ship, leaving an indentation the size of his body in the farther bulkhead of another passageway. The steel that each bulkhead separating the compartments consisted of peeled inward, as if a stallion-sized bullet had shot through each of the bulkheads without losing momentum, and in the jagged apertures, in each affected compartment emerged countless stupefied sailors, staring through them in confusion and shock at both myself and Silver, who panted and shuddered heavily with weakness.

My jaw fully gaped, realizing only moments later what had happened. I turned slowly toward the beige unicorn, whose flanks dropped flat to the floor, trembling, along with his ears that pinned smoothly to his head as the garnet luster veiling his horn progressively evanesced into nothing. Magenta cores of the enervated pony rose, converging with the crimson of my own. In them flickered a furious flame that burned on, steadfast in nature and minatory concerning Rondache, whom now had other sailors scrambling to his aid.

Looking down at the floor, toward my hooves, there upside down sat Rondache's cover, having fallen off his head by the force of his body being so swiftly thrown sideways. For some time, I focused on it solely, sharing the other sailors' amazement while trying to wrap my mind around all I had witnessed moments prior.

***

A hoof knocked twice firmly on the door, the plaque just above eye level on it imposing polished gold and read 'Capt. Shadow'. Reading over the engrave had the beige unicorn's body stiff, draughting a clog in his throat after the superior within ushered him inside.

He went to take the doorknob in his hoof, only for it to be pulled away as the door opened by another sailor stood inside it, who commanded, "March."

Silver entered at a nonchalant pace, head high and spine straight. He came to a halt before the captain's desk. Behind him, the sailor closed the door, then uttered, "One step back." With that, Silver drew back one step and stood at attention. "Uncover!" he reached up, removing his eight-point cover and holding it near his chest.

Anyone present could have noticed the faint tremble he had to his stance, struggling to hold his posture in the face of not just the captain, but his chief, and two other master chiefs of two respective divisions as well—one a pegasus and the other a unicorn. Then, of course, to his right, Rondache, whose arm was in a cast and eyes narrowed like daggers onto Silver.

"State your name and rank, sailor," instructed one of the master chiefs, tone even.

"Silver Edge, Petty Officer Third Class, sir," he responded without hesitation.

"That's Master Chief to you," groused the higher-ranking pony.

"Y-yes, Master Chief," Silver stuttered and nodded once, his ear briefly losing its perk.

"Petty Officer, you are found guilty of assaulting and injuring your fellow sailor, Petty Officer Third Class Rondache. Do you admit to these charges?" the master chief questioned.

"Yes, Master Chief."

"That's what I would say," his eyes narrowed onto Silver.

"God damn it, Petty Officer, what in the fuck were you thinking?!—"

Shadow raised his hoof, motioning for Silver's chief to restrain himself. He then placed his hooves together, suspended up on elbows, eyeballing the beige unicorn before him carefully. "Petty Officer, I will give you a minute precisely to explain your case before we discuss punishment."

Everypony honed in on the unicorn, studying him as a silence fell upon Shadow's quarters. From off to the side I watched Silver silently sputter in his own mind and stumble over the words before they could come out. Judging by how his ears had begun to lower, it hit me that he was about to lie in order to accept the punishment. Standing in the presence of four superiors hampered his ability to vocalize his defense. But he had my back in that hallway, so here I had his.

"Captain, if I may interject," I rose from my chair. All eyes fixated on me, a powerful sense that had me understanding Silver's reluctance. "As a witness of the incident, I believe it is in my best interest to defend the petty officer."

"Which one, Corporal?" Shadow furrowed an eyebrow.

"Petty Officer Silver Edge," I said, unflinchingly making eye contact with the captain.

He reclined into his chair. "All right, let us hear it."

My mouth parted to speak, but was cut off before I could. "Now, hold on. The corporal has nothing to do with this, sit down!"

Shadow shot a look at Rondache, one that ordered him to stand down. "I recall granting Corporal Star Shooter to speak, not you, Petty Officer." He then nodded at me to continue.

I returned the nod, clearing my throat. "What Petty Officer Silver Edge did was merely out of defense, Captain," noting the beige unicorn dart his eyes over to me in that instance. "He was protecting from an effort by Petty Officer Rondache to nefariously stun me."

"I did not!" Rondache snapped, stomping angrily, only to amass a set of four glares from all of the superiors, as well as Silver and I.

"Do you have any proof to support your accusations, Corporal?" inquired Shadow.

Oh, shit. Other than out of mere memory, which couldn't be tapped regardless, there really was no evidence present, or none that I could think of straightaway. Now my career was on the line, and possibly my freedom, too. I looked over at Silver, watching his face light up and gasp audibly, causing my ears to stand. He had something up his sleeve.

Silver blinked a couple of times, before his horn ignited in a ruby-garnet hue, which caused Rondache to wince and take a step back out of instinct. From his breast pocket, Silver's magic produced a small plastic bag encasing a white cloth, levitating it closer to the seated officers for them to examine it.

As if any misgivings had suddenly vanished, Silver proceeded to continue for me. "Petty Officer Rondache attempted to use this cloth by pressing it to Star's muzzle, Captain, Master Chiefs. From a safe distance I recognized its scent as chloroform, which he doused the cloth in, planning to knock Star unconscious."

From there, I took the helm once more. Now we had a solid defense. "Added to that..." I paused briefly, nose unobtrusively wrinkling. "On our previous deployment, sirs, he performed a similar successful act to sexually assault me in my berthing."

"Holy shit..." Silver mouthed silently, staring at me in utter shock now. Him and the superiors all did, slowly turning toward Rondache, who reared into the wall and was shaking his head in denial.

"Is this true?" the master chief queried, backed by a hardened scowl replacing the appall formerly on his face.

"N-no! Corporal Star Shooter is biased! He has no proof!" Rondache countered.

"Then what the hell is this, Petty Officer?" Shadow stood up, pressing a hoof on the edge of his desk and taking the small bag in the other, sharpening his fix on the patently nervous earth pony. "I would say that is plenty enough proof."

"W-well..." Rondache dashed his eyes around, setting upon Silver. "That doesn't make it justifiable to launch me through five fucking walls!"

The captain's hooves slammed onto the desk surface, rattling it. "So you admit to sexually assaulting Corporal Star Shooter?"

Rondache's mouth snapped shut, muzzle scrunching with wide eyes. He knew there was no return from this point, everypony present could see that realization in his eyes. Taking in a deep breath, Rondache eased his muscles and swiveled his ears. "Yes, Captain."

Equally piercing scowls fixed on the arctic-blue earth stallion. A combined heat permeated the small room with the fury that blazed within the essences of every superior. It melted the ice that his coat and stance comprised of, shedding the innocent guise he exhibited in a now-defeat.

Breaking the silence, the pegasus master chief spoke up to interrogate, "Do you have anything to say for yourself, Petty Officer? Anything?"

Following a quiet moment, Rondache gave a gentle shake of his head. "No, Master Chief."

Shadow's eyes shifted over to the vermilion unicorn master chief, nodding once to him. The magical appendage on his head ignited in a chambré cobalt and took hold of the silver ribbon devices on Rondache's tidily-maintained lapel. With limited energetic output embed into the spell, everypony watched sharply as both patches peeled effortlessly from his uniform, levitated before his very eyes, and evaporating into dust.

Most would expect a far less-collected reaction in response to having one's devices removed, leaving them without rank and essentially discharging them on the spot. However, Rondache kept his composure and allowed it to happen without so much as flinching.

"As of this very moment, you are a civilian aboard this ship. You shall be court-martialed as early as the day after we make port on the 3rd. Is that understood?" Shadow coldly decreed.

"Yes, Captain," answered Rondache, acquiescent of what was now in store for him. The slightest of frowns crossed his muzzle, his eyes briefly darting toward Silver and I. "I will see my way out, Captain."

"That will not be necessary, Rondache. We shelter lovely accommodations for disgusting ponies of your kind." Shadow stood up, looking around him to the sailor stood by the door. Nodding to him, the sailor came up behind Rondache and grabbed his shoulder, beginning to pull him out of Shadow's quarters.

"Wh- hey! Hey! Get your hooves off of me!" Rondache yelped, thrashing around. Another sailor rushed in to help, dragging the broken-hooved stallion out and closing the door behind them. We simply watched from the side, Silver and I both surprised and overall thankful. With my lips, I mouthed inaudibly, "good riddance".

Then, the focus shifted to Silver once more.

"Now, of course, with this information we now understand your reasoning," Shadow began. "That said, neither of you are exempt from punishment."

I exchanged glances with the beige unicorn beside me. The looks we gave each other were their own conversation. I shook my head while Silver nodded his. "Captain," he spoke up, "if I may intervene, I would like to take Corporal Star Shooter's end of the penalty."

"Must I question why, Petty Officer?" Shadow cocked his head, hooves together inches in front of his mouth. The chiefs beside him accompanied his curiosity.

"Because Corporal Star Shooter is innocent, sir." Silver attested, stiffening his posture. "Barring former Petty Officer Rondache's intentions, he was not involved with the incident outside of Berthing 3B. He in no way laid hooves on former Petty Officer Rondache, it was I who picked up and forced him through six bulkheads of five leisure rooms."

Each of the superiors almost seemed individually dumbfounded by Silver's precipitous and stoic intervention, nevertheless they maintained undivided attention to listen to what he had to say.

"I cannot let Corporal Shooter be punished for a crime he did not commit, and I accept what ever justice is deemed necessary," he concluded, unwavering in eye contact with each of the higher-ranking stallions before him.

I threw Silver a look that asked, what the fuck are you doing? Arguably, he was correct; I hadn't touched Rondache, only he did. That doesn't justify it as the best course of action, to take the full brunt of it from Shadow and, likely later on, his chief. It just is not fair. Though, I suppose, that's life.

After an uneasy, minute-long silence, Shadow gestured in acknowledgement, back adjusting to lean forward over his desk, hooves placed together on it. "Very well. We shall discuss your full punishment later. By no means will you be discharged alongside Rondache; however, somebody must make up for the damage caused, and likeliness is your pay will be cut in half, or more. Your chief will inform you when our minds are made."

Silver nodded in affirmation, determined of his choice and pitiless for the possible consequences. It goes without saying that I am greatly indebted to him as of this moment forward, and I harbored immense empathy for the stallion as a result. "Yes, Captain."

The nod was returned by Shadow, who waved his hoof. "You are dismissed, sailor."

"Yes, sir." The two exchanged a short salute, before Silver re-covered and nonchalantly made his way out. Our eyes followed the beige unicorn as he exited the quarters, before Shadow turned to the three chiefs.

"You three, as well. I would like a minute with Corporal Shooter," he uttered. Nodding, the chiefs stood and filed out behind Silver. He waited until the enlisted ranks had left until he and I were alone, concentrating solely on me now and proceeded to ask in an easygoing manner, "So, how are you doing?"

My brow arched faintly, hardly unnoticeable to him at the casual nature of the question. "Could be better, sir," I answered, retaining a short and honest response.

Shadow waved a hoof. "Drop the formality, it's just us two." I conceded, smiling faintly and looking down at my twiddling hooves. "The feelings are mutual, Star. Plenty of stress going around to feed the whole changeling race three times over were that what they consume."

"Right?" I laughed lowly, gently tapping my hooves together. "I think I am handling all right, though."

"I would hope so. The blood on those bandages looks nasty," he remarked, taking note of the discernible patch covering the majority of my forehead.

My eyeballs looked up, even though they were unable to physically catch a glimpse of the gauze pad that was taped on without a mirror. "Yeah."

Shadow bantered affably, "What did you do to earn that patch, Marine?" mustering a chuckle under his grin.

Keep it vague, Star. "I... uh, hit my head on something when I tripped." That'll work.

"On what, a bulkhead?" he again joked, but with a mildly-heartfelt edge to his tone.

I shrugged. "Something like that. I need to change the bandage at some point."

Fourteen hours had passed since that outburst, as well as the incident that followed minutes after. It took me until this morning to persuade myself enough to have the bruising examined when the migraines prolonged. To my relief, it had subsided with the aid of some light painkillers from a little convenience store some corridors down from Shadow's quarters, but, he did not need to know what was going on.

"I am inclined to agree," he started. "Not good if you wind up with an infection on what ever that is covering."

I shook my head, faintly chuckling in agreement. "Heh, not at all."

An indistinct frown then appeared on Shadow's face. "So, what's up? I can see you're bagging something, other than your eyelids."

My gaze lifted, temporarily locking with Shadow's, before I stared off toward the wall, shaking my head. "Just concerned about those ships, worried about Silver. It's a deadly concoction of the two. But I can tell above all else that Silver is not dealing too well."

Shadow nodded in recognition, placing both hooves on his desk, stretching his back and shoulders to ease the strain in them from sitting in one spot for a time. "I noticed that, too. Like Arc told me, the posture tells you everything," he commented, standing up and stepping up to the porthole and looking out to the waves placidly bobbing below it, unmoving by the ship's discernible lack of motion through the water.

"The colt received the training of a Marine and became a sailor instead. On a personal level I agree with his decision to make the switch, but he has entered a whole different ball game from what it used to be for him. It won't be easy for him one bit, that's why those who pick their branches tend to stick with them. He's gotta learn new morals, new rules, a new way of life, and get comfortable with all new ponies." He looked right at me. "That right there is a culture shock."

"I presume he knew in advance what he is going up against. Silver is a smart stallion. If he had any inkling of what he'd gotten himself into from the start, surely he saw this coming. I hope so, at least," I muttered at the end.

"He is lucky to have slipped into the Marines when he did. Had it been vice versa and he were switching to the Marines, he would be in basic all over again as we speak. You ponies have a tougher training regiment than the Navy does, and a far different demeanor. The Marines wouldn't let him make the transfer without preparing him."

"Yeah," I agreed, "That is true," stare lowering to the floor and releasing a shallow sigh. "Just wish I didn't overlook it back then. He would have been a proud sailor from the start, and... he would not have gone through what he did back in December."

Shadow nodded again, this time in concurrence. "I think we all lost a piece of our selves that day, Star. We couldn't get much done in terms of combat other than instruct some jets that flew in from their station out west. I caught wind of you missing in action and went in with the lieutenant to track you down and bring you home. T'was a bit of a surprise to me when you declined and ran toward the fight again."

Once more, a small smile crept across my muzzle. "You know us Marines. First to the fight, last to leave. Can't hold that title and be proud of myself knowing I ran away from the chaos."

The greenish-grey stallion descended into his office chair, repaying a genuine simper. "You live by that standard quite well, I must say."

"Thank you." I nodded. Then, my earnest smile curled into a frown. "May I ask you something?"

He nodded his head yes. "Of course, Star. You can ask me anything as a friend of mine," gesturing and cordially smiling.

"Not as a friend, Shadow," I asserted.

The stallion then blinked, puzzled. "What is it, then? Work related?"

I nodded slowly. For a couple of moments I stared at him questionably. "Are you comfortable with me as your radarpony?"

His head cocked, expression further collecting with bewilderment. "Of course. You fill the position quite nicely, actually. Very rarely do Marines perform the duties of a sailor, you know that already."

"But is it within Navy regulations?" I continued the query, doubtful in my attitude.

"Come again?"

I yielded him a somewhat grave look. "If you assigned me this rate simply for a friend favor and not based on actual guidelines and regulations, I would like to retract my agreement."

His eyes narrowed, attempting to piece together what I meant on his own. "Do you not enjoy your rate?"

"Negative. In fact, I really could not have asked for a more laid-back rate."

"Then what it is it you are attempting to convey?" he asked, perplexed once more.

"I feel as though this job is not for somepony like myself. Not because I do not enjoy it, but for the fact that I am a Marine performing the duties of a pony from another branch beyond my jurisdiction."

Shadow's brow arched in bemusement, assuming this meant something else. "Star, are you quitting on me?"

I shook my head. "No, Shadow, but something to me just does not feel right about this. Believe me, I am grateful to know you beforehand and you reserve this job for me, I really am, but there is bound to be backlash from your superiors."

"My superiors are in Canterlot, Star, and the respective duties of my entire crew are quite honestly none of their business unless they do something wrong or something happens to my ship. That is why Arc Nobis was my Marine-boatswain, so to speak." Shadow reclined, sighing. "It doesn't feel right."

I knew he would agree at some point. "You see how I feel?"

"Not that. I meant not having the second lieutenant along with us. Our previous deployment marked the first he could not come due to reasons above your pay grade. It feels even less right knowing he is under house arrest now."

I could see now that he grew uncomfortable and decided to switch the topic abruptly. "I understand. And you are right. Frankly, learning it to be him that night had me all sorts of screwed up."

"Of course it did. You went virtually face to face with him, Star. He could have killed you if it weren't for your fast thinking."

"Thank you, but... I wouldn't precisely call that reassuring," I looked up slowly to face him. "Shadow, why did he snap that evening? Did it have something to do with him being allocated to shore-side?"

"Where did you hear that?" his tone took a grim edge to it.

"Nowhere in particular. But it is a question Lemoore and I are asking, if it is something that is not strictly classified and does not affect our trades in any manner."

Shadow narrowed his eyes, then straightened his spine. "There was an incident that involved him four years ago, a bad one. It occurred on a covert mission in Foscovia under the cover of night, and around then he was fairly new in his rank to the Lunar Marine Corps. I'm afraid I don't have all of the details behind it, but... what I do know is, it fucked with Nobis beyond repair."

"Is that why he went rogue that night?" I gawked, now with wide-eyes of curiosity. The pieces were falling into place a month after the fact.

He affirmed slowly. "I assume so. You see, he suffers from multiple personality disorder. He's kept a clean slate for some time, up until recently as we both understand. He has some control over his mind, although..." Shadow trailed off, pausing for a few moments. "He cannot tolerate the total dark. Not while awake, anyhow, or else his alt-persona shows; a cold-blooded, murderous entity with a lust for death to anyone in his sights because it sees everypony as an enemy."

"The concept as well as him is fairly unpredictable. Although, I am positive it was not the Nobis I call my friend who spilled all that blood. He wouldn't unless he is absolutely forced to, and even then he must restrain himself to prevent it from taking over." He glanced off to the left, shaking his head slowly. "But the blackout triggered it."

"You know, all the justice department has to do is dig deeper, and they will have reason to reinstate his original sentence."

"Execution?" I blinked. The nod received was slow and somber.

"Or life in prison. Knowing him he might spill the beans just to let it happen. That way he won't be putting any ponies' lives in danger. Of course, they will probably label him delusional and simply extend his current sentence," an exhale rolled out of his nose. "When we make port, I'll try and check on him if I am allowed."

I concurred. "That sounds like a good idea. Will they let you?"

"I would hope so," he chuckled, "I may be a captain, but that ain't shit off-base."

Shrugging, I grinned. "You never know."

Shadow gently rocked in his chair. "Hah! I wish."

For a minute or so, the two of us just glanced around in silence. My hooves fidgeted quietly while I focused on them, neglecting to notice him glance in my direction, a frown once more pursing his mouth. He said suddenly, "Star, I have not been telling the whole truth about why we are out here."

My gaze lifted rather quickly, locking with his. "Huh?"

Just then, before he could respond, the door swiveled open, and Shadow shifted his attention toward it. From my angle, I couldn't see who it was until he came to a halt before the desk, where he clicked his hooves together and stiffened at attention. He reached up to remove his cover.

"Senior Chief," Shadow said. "At ease."

"Captain." Tacimo dipped his head slightly in a half-nod, relaxing his posture, cover held over his chest. He glanced over in my direction, blinking once. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting anything?"

Shadow shook his head, as did I. He kind of was, but I chose to let it slide. "Not at all. What do you need?"

The senior chief grew notably tense at that moment. He went silent, before he reached up to the lapel of his uniform and fumbled gently for a couple of long seconds, before...

RIP

Tacimo's hoof gently slapped onto the wooden surface, pulling it off, revealing to have torn off his gold anchor devices. Shadow's eyes grew wide as saucers, lifting his gaze to meet the senior chief's.

"As soon as we get back to port, Captain, I quit," Tacimo declared, tone dead with seriousness and eyes narrowly fixated on the captain opposite of him. "I'm sorry, skip."

Shadow's focus shifted between Tacimo and his devices, now placed atop the spotless surface nearer Tacimo's side of the desk. A look of confoundment dominated Shadow's mien, and his jaw hung slack. His tongue staggered over words that never articulated in time before the now-former senior chief gave one final, tearful salute, then turned and advanced to the door, closing it slowly and quietly in his wake.

Having propped himself up from his chair without completely standing up, Shadow descended, taking some pressure with his hooves off of the edge of his desk when he lolled back, rocking ever so gently with a hoof pressed to his chin in a muse.

First, one of his sailors is to be court-martialed, followed by Silver accepting full punishment for his injury, and now the senior chief turned over his devices. I cannot imagine the turmoil going through Shadow's head right about now.

While he zoned out in silence off at the far wall, I calmly got up from my seat. I figured in that very instance that he needed some time alone to process all that is happening at once. Without bothering him, I showed myself out to leave him to his thoughts.

Author's Note

Old issues settle, new ones arise.

In all honesty, this arc is going for longer than I anticipated.

32. All Hooves - Part III

Tedious as usual, my walk up to the bridge went without a hiccup. Seeing as my shift was due to begin in a few short minutes, just before dusk, my routine desire for caffeine grew ever so gradually. It would have to wait for a bit longer until I can use the machine in the control room.

After the drama that went on in the captain's quarters, I didn't hesitate to spend the immediate time to catch some sleep after essentially being up for twenty-six hours straight, thus functioning on three hours of sleep will prove to be a challenge tonight, for sure. Having bore witness to Silver's moderately impressive but also terrifyingly powerful burst of magic, neither of us were allowed to relax anywhere while Rondache was taken to sickbay to be treated for the injuries sustained.

In all reality, the force of him being blasted through six bulkheads almost simultaneously should have killed him. Miraculously, they didn't, although that is a good thing as much as I hate to admit. I am also not about to say earth ponies have the advantage when facing physical trauma, yet evidently that is what aided him take the full brunt of slamming through two-inch thick steel plating that the bulkheads consisted of. We can be thankful Silver didn't go all out and forced him out the ship entirely, which would have flooded this deck in turn.

I hadn't much a clue of what to expect heading up to the bridge. Tacimo would not be present, that is for sure. Not anymore, that is. At least, I had not prepared to see his face walking through the door. Surely he cannot simply hand over his devices and call it quits; we are out here for another ten days whether or not the mission continues, and in spite of that there is still much to do, even if we are still dead in the water.

The walk up three flights of stairs was a short one, bringing me directly to the entryway at the top that led into the shadowed room. Only computer monitors and round radar screens illuminated the control room and, much to my surprise, only two ponies manned the bridge: Sea Watch and Vernon, and both remained at their usual stations, except Sea bounced back and forth between his map table and the forward windshield to scan the horizon.

They were both petty officers, compelling no proper reason for requesting permission to step into the room. I did knock on the door frame to get their attention, receiving a couple of silent glances and nods in return. While it struck me as odd to not have somepony of a higher rank on watch, I chose not to question it initially and aimed for the coffee maker.

Pouring in the pitch black beverage, mixing in a spoonful of sugar afterward and stirring slowly with a thin straw, my attention shifted over to the quartermaster. "No watch on duty?"

"We are the watch, Corporal," Sea Watch responded immediately, not once lifting his gaze from the table he hunched over and made markings on with a red-colored pencil. "Senior chief is absent, captain is absent, we're all we got other than the watch outside."

I sat at my station, savoring a refreshing swig of lukewarm coffee, placing the paper cup containing it on a little coaster a bit off to the side and out of the way of my keyboard and mouse. A quick refresh of the system showed no activity nearby apart from our fellow ships, having held their circular "shield" formation around us quite well. That is how I hoped—how we hoped—it would remain for the duration of our wait.

All was strangely quiet for the first half hour after the sun vanished below the horizon to our immediate eight o'clock. I impulsively looked around a few instances in that time, always expecting the captain or the senior chief to be there. The feeling of their absence unobtrusively bristled every follicle of my coat under my uniform, recognizing in such circumstances one or the other would never show up or assign somepony else to get the job done instead.

It occurred to me that Shadow might have possibly been spending time attempting to coerce Tacimo into retracting his affirmation. Being acquaintances and all, that would not surprise me. That isn't to say concern wasn't also present. Should something happen, we need the captain up here to throw out orders.

After a second flight in under a day, flown by the Airborne Early Warning crew of ten, the E-2C Hawkeye aircraft—a twin-engine prop equipped with an enormous radar disk attached above the fuselage—touched down on the flight deck picture perfectly, folded its wings, and began the process of deboarding.

Because the ship's communications between us and the plane itself were handled in the operations room, we wouldn't know what is going on until that information is relayed by phone from below deck. Judging by the nonchalant on the flight deck, however, it was safe to assume there was nothing out of order that we needed to be made aware of.

***

Local time, it was somewhere near four in the morning. Even in the middle of the ocean, time zones do exist. Thank goodness for that. Because it was my night shift, this counted as lunch. The overnight sailors buzzed like bees in the passageways and inside compartments.

A line of hungry ponies waiting to eat stretched out beyond the entryway of the mess deck and down the corridor opposite of the direction I came. It was mildly discouraging finding the place to be this busy, although my stomach could not wait much longer. It rumbled and snarled every few seconds, begging to be fed.

I filed into line at the very end—five compartment lengths away—and sighed. Who would have known the galley to get so busy this time of night? That in itself is practically unheard of. With the ship's alert level still elevated, it made only a little bit of sense that there were more sailors up and about than average.

My limbs trembled with weakness, low on energy as consequence of an empty tank. Three cups of coffee didn't help, either. They each combined maintained a healthy blood sugar level and sharp alertness, all at the expense of a churning, hungry belly. I craved something real to eat, whatever it may be. Feed me rotten tomatoes and mustard-caked asparagus for all I care.

Every so often I would peer around the barely-larger physique of the sailor in line ahead to count the ponies remaining to the door. Although we were advancing gradually, it felt as if no one was moving anywhere. I couldn't abandon the line now as there were a few more who joined up behind.

I had the option of seeking out the onboard convenience store and just purchasing the hell out of whatever snacks there were available. Not my ideal type of lunch, but if it fills me up... I'd take it!

About halfway to the door, a dizziness began to set in. My breath grew somewhat short, unnoticeably at first until it grew audible to where I found myself as the source and proceeded to lean against the bulkhead on my right, gently resting my head against the cold steel.

My sight became blurry after a minute or so. I saw the line had stopped entirely, and despite my strange posture, no one seemed to take notice, especially nopony behind me. They simply gazed forward, still as can be, and weren't even blinking. That or the state of mind caused by this surge of hunger and weakness prevented me from noticing, or I was hallucinating it all. I needed to eat something.

A deep, nasal sigh slipped out, blinking sickly and pressing a hoof to my now-aching barrel. Not often do I become peckish to the threshold of sickness, nor did I feel that way moments ago. In fact hunger had only developed a bit before I walked off the bridge some five minutes prior, so this was new. Perhaps I came down with something for the second time in over a month. Whatever the case, it hit like an oncoming train, this nauseousness. By seemingly the moment it worsened and my insides desperately yearned to cry out in agony to make at least somepony present aware of my situation.

Just as I believed it could not get any worse, I was poorly mistaken once more. My hooves gave out entirely, and I fell sideways to the floor. Upon impact, everything went pitch black. I could no longer feel my hooves, my wings, anything for that matter. Numbness spread all over, from head to tail and every place in between. To my immediate relief, not even the ache that plagued my stomach existed.

When I woke, it was a whole new landscape. Or shipscape, whatever you might want to call it. The passageway was dark; I'm talking black as night, no light whatsoever from anywhere except in a very short circle around me where I could at least make out myself and the floor. It took a minute or two to get back on my hooves, which strangely had the strength to prop me up. I could not have been out for long, though there was no way of ascertaining.

Upon closer inspection of the area around me, no sailors occupied the hall. None. It was the weirdest thing conceivable. My first thought was another power outage, maybe we were a step closer to regaining propulsion; maybe we were further.

But, as I took my first step since waking, I froze in place. Jerking my hoof up from the floor, my gaze studied a cold, thick, crimson fluid slicking beneath it. I shifted to the floor in front of me and lurched back with a sharp inhale of shock. Adjusting to what light was available—if any—I'd discovered there to be not one, but copious collections of paste-like ichor puddling like polka-dots where there were at one point sailors occupying the passageway in those precise spots.

Two steps back, my hind leg dipped briefly into another puddle before I yanked it up out of reflex. It sent a shiver running up my spine seeing the tendrils of congealing blood stretch between my hoof and the floor, sticking to it like a wad of chewed gum spat out on a city street. I scraped it and my forehoof along the untouched areas, only leaving streaks of crimson in that attempt.

While my focus set on removing the cold, sticky fluid from both hooves, a lukewarm breath swept down the back of my neck. My eyes went wide with immediate alarm, turning slowly to look over my other shoulder. A second breath stroked my cheek in that time, just before my gaze lifted and locked with a pair of purple irides, glowing in the dark, the silhouette of a dreadful, greyscale stallion stood in place off my immediate left.

My throat tightened and every ounce of blood in me ran cold, essentially frozen in place right in front of this horrifying figure. The look in those forbidding eyes told of sinister intent, scrutinizing my terrified form and calculating his next move. Then came the realization—I was the last one alive, or so it seemed. I muttered, audible between the two of us, "A-Arc? What are you doing here? You... y-you should be at home!"

His eyes blinked slowly, fixated solely on me. Next thing I could make out was a red-matted stream of dried blood originating from a neatly-sliced laceration an inch below his right eye; from a knife fight, more likely. Presumably when somepony fatefully attempted to bring him down and caught his cheek with the tip of the blade, judging by how shallow the gash appeared to be under what little light there was.

I granted myself a bit of calming, letting my muscles ease up. Beside him menacingly looming over, as if he had physically grown all over, he seemed to pose no definite threat. Not to me anyway, as far as I could tell.

Then, he thrust his hoof up out of the blue. It cuffed right into my shoulder and actually tossed me a short distance until I struck a beam separating bulkheads. The wind was torn from my lungs upon slamming my back against the hardened steel support, emitting a deep and pained grunt at the same time. Dazed for a split second, I fought my senses until they came rushing back, predominantly between my wings and an ache at the back of my head from striking it.

When I went to open my eyes, a strong pressure shoved into my collar bone and forced virtually my whole self into the bulkhead I rested against. A steep breath drew in, shifting concern up to the grey stallion who shadowed my form darker than the corridor's overall pitch itself. My breathing became quick and heavy at that moment, and my heart continuously pounded in my ears.

My gaze steadily fell to a glare in his other hoof. Against impossible light reflected the sharpened steel of a combat knife, twisting ever so slowly in the stallion's blood-splattered, tactically-gloved hoof. Its tip pointed elsewhere at first, but eventually settled on me; precisely around my throat. He wasn't about to slit it and leave me to bleed out. The way it sat in his hoof, he was bent on full-on stabbing.

His blade, in its entirety, penetrated flesh and plunged straight into my shoulder. Peculiarly enough, no blood spilled. Not from what I could make out, anyhow. The feeling of warm fluid running down the cloth of my blouse and dampening added with the darkness in the passageway made it impossible to confirm. The icy steel chilled my body far beyond the insertion point, and pain sprung from the wound as deep if not deeper than the knife went. My maw opened wide, but no scream emerged, as if it had caught in my throat.

When my breath became short and heavy, I looked right into this demon's unkempt purple irides. That is what I settled upon calling him, a demon. He could not be classified as a normal stallion anymore. The ones he mercilessly slaughtered would agree.

With a dying breath, my last words to Arc were, "If you are going to kill me... just do it."

"Corporal."

Gentle tears formed in my eyes, teeth grit. "Put me out of my misery. Please," I begged.

"Corporal!"

Arc's hoof drew back from the handle, leaving the blade jarred in my shoulder. His arm coiled back, holding for a mere moment, until all ultimately went black upon his hoof meeting my face.

"CORPORAL!"

At a hard tap on the shoulder, my head shot up from the desk surface, eyes dashing elsewhere in a panic. I was back on the bridge, at my station, with an angry Shadow looming over me.

"Corporal! Are you sleeping on the job?!" he snarled, honed in on me while I sat up.

My spine swiftly straightened and I placed my hooves on the desk in front of me, now completely alert. "M-me? N-no, Captain, of course not!"

"You better not be," he groused, continuing to his seat with a heavy step to his pace. "Now is no time for sleeping, nor any day of the week on duty. Do I make myself clear, Corporal?"

"Aye, Captain," I nodded comprehensively. The whole of my face grew hot in embarrassment. Had I dozed off at my station, especially after four cups of coffee? As long as what I dreamt of wasn't reality, I suppose I will take the brunt of Shadow this morning if there is any.

"Perfect. We'll need all hooves on deck at once," Shadow said, sitting down. "Received word straight from engineering, we are going dark again soon. Not completely, though, but we will be completely radar blind, so we shall rely strictly on the Gibbous for regional detection and our watch for visual contact should the Ajerstanian fleet drop by for a second round of pissing me off."

All of us could share his feelings there. Really, at this point it seemed as though the Ajerstanians were pulling their shit for their own amusement, likely relaying it all back to their capital for their prime minister to get a good chuckle at. Fact is, for anyone, it wasn't a laughing matter. It would have been a disaster if the submarine surfaced a moment too soon or too steep; one more reason on my list of reasons never to step hoof on a damn sub.

On the contrary, Equestria's subs are probably far more stealthy and safer than what Ajerstan has. The sanctions we have placed on them hamper their ability to build functional weapons of war, though not altogether. We only made it more difficult for Ajerstan in the arms race.

Although, what they as a country cannot accomplish in weaponry, they compensate for in tactics. Past conflicts between them and other nations among the Eastern Kingdoms prove they take war to the T. They want us to blast off a warning shot so they have reason to fire back upon us with full naval force, which was precisely what we hoped to avoid.

It wasn't long after where my monitors froze as the signal dropped, and the power flickered once or twice, but did not shut off completely, a sign the sailors below deck were taking leaps to getting us moving much to our consolation.

After a half an hour, our systems came back. At the same time, a call from the Gibbous came in through the VHF. "Eclipse, Gibbous. We are tracking a formation of six closing on our position, fifteen nautical miles due south-southwest of our current location. How are you holding up?"

Shadow picked up the receiver and responded. "Gibbous, Eclipse. We are making steady progress, should be up and running by the end of the day. Hooves crossed. Repeat, we—"

"Missile lock! Bogey incoming, we need countermeasures up now!"

Origin unknown in the chaos of the moment, the transmission came so abruptly that everypony jumped into action. We watched as one of the four cannons aboard the Aphelion turned rapidly and shot off a chaff vertically. Within seconds, a previously unnoticed missile racing a couple hundred feet above the water changed course and struck the chaff.

The explosion, being so close above us rattled every ship. The three of us instinctively ducked, watching the smoke disperse in the air. We could wipe off our foreheads knowing the Aphelion went unharmed, but it was not over. I looked at my screen, finding all monitors to be flashing with alarm. My gaze lifted to Shadow, who looked right back at me.

"Those motherfuckers were waiting, I knew it," grunted Shadow.

Before any of us knew it, we were all done for.

***

I lightly jolted, passively staring at the rack above from where I lay. A cramped space, no more than twenty inches vertically each for ponies to sleep in. My eyes darted about for a moment, head turning sideways to look across the compartment to an empty, made rack. A sigh of relief let off, realizing my surroundings then. It was just another dream, I reassured myself.

A hoof stretched to my forehead, running with care across the bandage. The pain was minuscule, and the area still bruised. By now it tinted a faint green against the night-blue of my coat and still very much discernible to whomever might glance my way.

While the cuts themselves caused by slamming my head so roughly into the wall had since closed up and healed, the bruising is due to remain for about a week longer. A nuisance for sure, but, let's face it, I've dealt worse than a head injury. Besides, the bottle of painkillers still had a couple of tablets left at the bottom out of the ten that once filled it. Speaking of which, it dawned on me. Why must pharmaceutical companies use such large containers and only put ten or eleven little pills in them, and then charge an arm and a leg for it? That just makes no sense to me.

Regardless, selling them at all aboard a navy ship was a blessing by whoever authorized it. That pony I will have to buy a cider for—next year, that is; when I turn 21.

I got up carefully and slipped out of my rack, onto my hooves. A negligible ache throbbed in my head as soon as I stood up straight, bringing a groan out of me as a result. Coffee should suffice, seeing as these painkillers I have been on don't typically treat any form of migraine, surprisingly.

I looked out the porthole from where I stood, and there I could make out overcast skies above a placid bluish-grey horizon. Better than last deployment, I'm certain of that. The first couple of steps I took were to a little wall locker where we kept our uniforms on hangers, separated neatly to inhibit confusion caused by morning lethargy, because everypony knows how little sleep we get on this ships.

As soon as I had my blouse on and buttoned up, I went out to grab a bite to eat before the start of my shift for the day.

It was a second relief walking on that bridge after breakfast and finding Shadow there, along with Sea Watch and Vernon, as well as two of the watch ponies occupying the helm and a secondary radar. Routinely, Shadow granted permission on the bridge and I went for my station.

"Good morning, Corporal," Shadow nodded my way, binoculars in-hoof. "Sleep well?"

I paused to excuse a gentle yawn, slowly blinking. "As good as four hours allows, Captain," was my reply. "I see we've got company again."

That brought a scorning grunt out of Shadow, who gawked out through his binoculars. "Fuckers found us despite our low profile. They dropped anchor about an hour ago and haven't done much since."

Well, maybe that dream wasn't entirely off. "Hear anything from them?"

"Not. A. Word," he said, scrutinizing the distant ships. "Frankly I would prefer not to hear his horrid voice again. But, I will be damned if they decide to check up on us any other way. Shouldn't raise my expectations, though, they could care less if we sank right on the spot."

I had managed to catch a rough glimpse of the nearby fleet out one of the window panes that encompassed the room on three sides. While not as far as the horizon's edge itself, they maintained a sizable and respectable gap between themselves and us, although that did little to mitigate the trepid anticipation circulating among us in that room.

Looking down at my primary radar monitor, the screen in center of the three I operated, what I took immediate note of was a stationary signature cluster, off near our eight o'clock port. I already needed to look up to confirm their presence, seeing how close the group of vessels were already.

Shadow delicately slapped his binoculars on the counter before him, mustering a weighted nasal exhale. "I feel obligated as your commanding officer to announce at utmost importance, as well as deepest regret, that Senior Chief Petty Officer Tacimo shall no longer join us on duty throughout the remainder of deployment."

I felt the gazes from four individual ponies shift up to the captain, two of which puzzled, the rest shocked. The silence that fell upon the bridge was moderately tense on account of Shadow's lowering head, hunched over and propped by his forehooves with heightened shoulders. His posture showed manifest dejection from withholding the news overnight, the burden of his unsuccessful attempts to persuade a friend against his sorrowful decision aching him to the core.

With ostensible reluctance, the greenish-grey stallion sustained a level tone in spite of his blatant concern on the matter. "As such, Lieutenant Lackey shall replace the former senior chief as officer of the deck effective this afternoon. In respect of Tacimo's requests, he wishes to leave his reasoning between him and I."

Once more, a period of quiet pervaded following the captain's conclusion, where he released his clutch on the plastic lip below the transponder. A discomforting scowl held strong as his expression, as noticed when he turned his head a bit and spaced out across the flight deck.

The stares of four different sailors fixed on Shadow from the start and failed to waver for minutes after. They dared not query the distressed superior and mutely shifted focus back to their respective duties. Arguably it may have been the preferable option to do so, considering the affairs extending beyond that subject in particular.

For some time, everypony worked without a word spoken. It was... oddly serene. It established a peace of mind for once. Perhaps the key to combating a tense situation really is tranquility.

Yet, like all good things, the calm undercurrent of the bridge had to reach an end. At that moment, Vernon quickly threw on his headset and began scribbling on a piece of paper. Nopony but myself really quite noticed him go to work, watching him rub the pencil along his temple in contemplation, before jotting as fast as his hooves could move.

My attention soon adjusted back to my monitors. After around a minute, it returned to the COMMO. He had finished writing, checking over what he noted. Vernon shook his head, as if in two types of disbelief. "Captain."

"Go ahead." Shadow responded, posting up near the communications officer's station.

"It... this doesn't make any sense." Vernon shot a look of bewilderment up at the superior, swiveling his chair to face him. "Captain, we are being ordered by Central Command to engage on the Ajerstanian fleet."

The stallion standing there simply blinked. "What?"

"It came in through morse code. I... am severely confused, sir. The message is patching through our command frequency," said Vernon, shuffling a small mess of papers in front of him.

"That is absurd. Central Command would not give such instructions under that method." Shadow asserted. "Not unless primary modes of communication are unavailable, that is."

It was awfully uncanny. Orders from the head of chain usually come through a phone designed for that particular purpose. Something was terribly erroneous here, I knew that much.

Vernon shrugged, puzzled as the rest of us. "I'm afraid I don't know, Captain."

Shadow softened his posture and moved to VHF, switching frequencies to address the Gibbous. "Gibbous, Eclipse. How are your comms holding up? We've got orders of engagement coming through morse code, can't confirm if straight from Central Command. Over."

"Eclipse, Gibbous. Was just about to call in to you. It is coming through our command channel, similar message. Any word from Canterlot?"

"Negative. Stand by," Shadow responded, hooking up the receiver. He redirected his attention to us. "We're going to wait and see if they make a move. Until then, we are elevating to alert level two," he decreed, picking up the intercom to announce this to the rest of the ship.

The tension rose gradually, more than ever preceding this very moment. Despite the fact that we could not yet tell for certain if the transmission was legitimate, we had a right to stay on edge as the minutes ticked by.

For once I managed to quell any inhibition from bubbling up all at one time. Sure, it was fairly unsettling, although it became my goal to make sure the stress doesn't break me at the worst possible moment. Like a gears on machine, every sailor on the Eclipse had their appropriate duties. I was one of those 2,500 moving, breathing components. One wrong move on my part would spell disaster.

To do just that, I replenished my coffee and watched the screens carefully, keeping tabs on the unlabeled signatures on radar. Of course, that submarine will still be an issue. Unless it breaks surface again, it is virtually blind to my detection systems.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Shadow dart over to the right side with his binoculars. With a mildly panicked tinge to his voice, he shouted into the radio, "What the hell are you doing? Disengage!"

Everypony looked out the same window, seeing the forward mounted gun of the Lacus, another one of our destroyers, beginning to rotate in the direction of the opposing fleet. By then, they began to move in the water once again. Along with the Lacus, the guns on the Gibbous and the Aphelion also showed signs of activity.

"Orders from Central Command are to stand by for orders to fire upon the Vulher. We are at war with Ajerstan."

A sense of grief and horror swept rapidly across every soul present, which only then strengthened the contemplative, pensive looks on our faces brought with this sudden shift from circumspect straight to full-on attack mode.

By instinct, Shadow snatched up his phone and called below deck within seconds of the thought hitting his mind. "Fire the scramblers, on the double!" he decreed hastily.

Sixty long seconds of tension followed his order before every mechanical and technical object on the bridge went dark. A whine, steadily increasing in pitch to a nearly unfathomable intensity reverberated off the antenna mast above us, compelling every pony but Shadow to peer up toward the ceiling. This noise later doubled from the Gibbous some six-hundred yards off our starboard, then tripled and quadrupled only moments after by the other destroyers and cruisers in our vicinity.

Like an energetic breeze, a wave of transparent distortion in the air pulsed out from the mast of the Eclipse, seconded by our fellow vessels. This dispersed as it moved further away at an almost supersonic pace, yet its aftermath withstood like a potent blanket of crippling electromagnetic matter had been draped over the surrounding expanse.

Through his binoculars, Shadow watched intently as the surge grazed the opposing fleet by whom we now call our enemies. What few electronic devices he could make out flickered out simultaneously, and sparks rained from numerous positions across the Vulher. The visible crew members exploded into disarray, scurrying to figure out what was now faulty with their ship mere minutes after the order to strike was given.

"What did that do, Captain?" solicited Sea Watch, right as screens began humming again, as well as what lights on the bridge brightened once more.

"The systems on the Ajerstanian ships is all outdated. We stand about twenty-five years ahead of their curve technology-wise, so we can hit them without inflicting permanent damage. Our mast is built with an electromagnetic drive that can temporarily disable everything they have. Weapons, targeting, but not propulsion. They can ram us if they are that hate-bent, but we won't sink. Completely. Besides, I can't be certain about their sub's operational status," Shadow answered, moving over to a phone and ringing up all of the ships in the fleet. "All ships, hold position. Do not engage. Repeat, do not engage!"

I turned down to my station monitors, finding them to be rebooting with a blank screen on all three. My hoof tapped along the table surface, impatiently standing by for at least sonar to come back online. Damn these slow ass computers...

Glancing up briefly, I noticed the enemy ships had covered ground—or water in this case—rather quickly. My heart pumped with adrenaline. This was the real deal now. Shadow, on the other hoof, snatched up his phone receiver and attempted to dial whom I could only assume to be the high ranks in Canterlot and figure out what the hell is going on. To his dismay, the line was rendered useless by the pulse. "Fuck!" he shouted, slamming it down.

Shadow watched from where he stood, a discernible look to his frame displayed the tension in his muscles. "Now, hold on a second. Why for the love of Celestia's glowing ass would they authorize engaging through morse code?" The question came off as more of a statement, mostly in doubt. It seemed illogical to all of us.

After a few more seconds, radar and sonar were up and running flawlessly again. I observed the movement take place on my primary screen, even as it flicked and glitched peculiarly. The Ajerstanian ships maintained formation for a while before they split up, beginning to loop around and spanning out in two different directions, circling around from either side of us.

No shots were exchanged for the first ten minutes, although I think it is safe to say a few of us expected one or two to pop off at any given moment. Surely the Ajerstanians deciphered by now that we were the ones to jam their hilariously inferior systems which, in turn, delays their ability to effectively fire their mounted cannons at one of us and be the ones to kick off the war. Holding fire didn't, at the time, seem to be the more preferable option if they now have viable reason to attack.

"Less than a nautical mile, Captain!" I announced, concerning the nearest vessel to our own. My screens were malfunctioning here and there, practically rendering them useless at this point. No matter what I would do, I was lucky to get maybe one or two seconds of accuracy on radar. "Sir, my systems are going haywire."

"Run troubleshoot procedures," he called. In the midst of the mayhem, Shadow proceeded to address the ship. "All hooves, battle stations. Await further instruction. Repeat, all personnel, go to your battle stations and await further instruction. We are at alert status one, threat condition two!"

Hearing his words resulted in my stomach beginning to churn in anticipation. In just a couple short minutes, jets on the flight deck were prepared preemptively should the captain give the go-ahead to launch an offensive. At such close proximity, the likelihood of success diminished greatly and continued to do so as long as the Vulher and her acquaintances were on the move.

This isn't good... I went in my mind. Alternating between my computer monitors and the scene outside, the deep red accent of my cores precisely tracked the leading destroyer on its approach. It made a hard left turn, narrowing the gap and coming within maybe twenty yards of the Gibbous. There were numbers of Ajerstanian sailors rushing out onto their ships' weather decks, all armed to the teeth, lining up along the edge and beginning to unload their bullets along the port hull.

Some of those orange-glowing cartridges zipped past the island, posing no particular threat to us inside but still causing quite the scare. Thus their recent tactic reinforced motive to defend ourselves, but Shadow persisted against it. "They're desperate! They're making close passes so they can get shots on our ships," he remarked, clenching his teeth in anger.

Within that very instance the majority of us present silently questioned the captain's choice. There was no rhyme or reason to sit back and let this happen, especially knowing the jamming signal will wear off eventually. Here I am restraining myself from running below deck to the armory and stocking up. First they will attack, then they will board and start taking numbers. It's too obvious of a strategy.

We watched helplessly as the glass on the Gibbous shattered pane by pane by a storm of bullets from a pack of twelve sailors in position on the Vulher's weather deck. Once the pass had completed, it veered left again to bring it full circle for a second pass. In our formation there was no possible way it could come up between the Gibbous and the Eclipse and not come in contact once, so they focused on it as a target for the time being.

In the calm, chaos erupted across the main fleet frequency. Commanding officers of their ships demanded orders left and right, some even going as far to threaten declaring mutiny if the situation fails to deescalate. At this rate, such seemed far fetched.

Just then, a deep voice came through the frequency to be heard by all, loud and clear. "This is the L.R.S. Gibbous, we are initiating strike against Volgrad. Ajerstan has made it clear that we are now at war."

It was soon after seconded by a similar voice. "This is the L.R.S Lacus, initiating launch sequence. Target set for the Ajerstanian capital."

A collective chill crept up every pony's spine simultaneously, and all of our breaths caught at once. Shadow swiftly picked up the phone and gave one more try, only to slam the receiver down in frustration and snatch it up again moments later. His eyes opened up noticeably as he seemingly acquired a connection and thus began speaking to a pony on the other end of the line.

"Launching in three... two... one."

"WAIT A MINUTE!"

It was too late. By the time those three words left Shadow's maw, not one, but three ballistic missiles blasted from the forward bays of either destroyer. The resulting launch blanketed the afts of both ships in a white fumes, a trail stretching up into the heavens in the rocket's wake. At that moment, a pin dropping could compare to the burst of a cannon in that room. Everypony watched in shock and awe as the four projectiles vanished above the grey blanket cast over the ocean, connecting the low-hanging bar with the water surface itself.

Static of a garbled voice incoherent to our ears filtered through the speakers, abruptly breaking the silence that overwhelmed the bridge. Shadow, still with the phone in his hoof held with one end to his ear and the other to his mouth, was staring with a hanging jaw. Even a stallion of his dignity could not shake the virtually unreal event unraveling right in front of him.

It would only take six minutes until the missiles reach Ajerstan's shores. Six minutes the residents there will have to take shelter, assuming they are not within a mile of ground zero. Depending on where at least one of them lands, let alone a trio, thousands if not millions will perish instantly.

Yet in the midst of everything I felt the need to question that. Without the captain's instructions to do so, they would not have launched. But they did, going against a strict command. I could tell in the discord of Shadow's emotional expressions, it left him fuming. To me, something did not seem right.

"Commander—P-Princess!" Shadow practically gasped out. His tone of surprise shifted dire in a moment's notice. "Your highness, we have launched a direct strike on Volgrad, ETA five minutes to detonation. Orders delivered by Central Command via morse code."

The female voice on the opposing end of the phone, while inaudible, was loud enough to project her rejoinder. Shadow's response in the form of an expression exceeded the limits of fear, unlike any I have seen from him. "Roger that, your highness."

Whirling straight to the communications officer, Shadow barked a desperate command. "Vernon, order the Gibbous and Lacus to destruct their missiles. No permission to strike has been granted, and instruction to revoke on behalf of Princess Celestia herself is granted."

Vernon nodded affirmatively, holding a hoof to his ear. He addressed through the microphone on his headset. "All ships, orders have been given by Princess Celestia. Orders to strike were a false alarm. Disengage missiles at once!"

"Copy that, Eclipse. Missile destruct in three... two... one!"

The brief moment of shared silence that fell as we all waited was utterly traumatizing, nervous that the safeguards implemented on the missiles would not do as they are intended to and continue east on a supersonic path for Ajerstan's capital.

Then, as if by miracle, three bright flashes of alternating yellows burst in the sky off near the horizon line and spanned out in a fiery shockwave, where the missiles had remotely self destructed in response to the quick-thinking actions of those to have flicked the launch confirmation switches, by which we could collectively breathe an enormous sigh of relief. Not just us, but those on the Ajerstanian ships, too. A nuclear strike carried out against a country we were never at war with had narrowly been averted in a span of just two minutes, and it was all right before my very eyes.

Shadow alleviated a heavy breath, slumping into a chair, as did Sea Watch off to the side. He took the VHF in his hoof and brought it closer while swapping channels, speaking into it.

"Ajerstanian fleet, S.A.F Vulher, cease fire imposed. Repeat, a cease fire is now in effect."

Author's Note

After two painful rewrites and mounting frustration, chapter 32 is here at last.

33. Open Wounds

At long last, home port was only a few hours out. For the last week and a half of deployment, I could not feel more relieved to be on the final stretch. Everypony on board shared these feelings. Who wouldn't be homesick after five weeks traveling at a snail's pace across hundreds of miles of deep blue? Plus, my forehead at this point was nothing more than a small bruise. That might take a few more days to go away completely.

I sat at one of the computer stations for the third attempt that afternoon, hoping to at least get in touch with Ray sooner than later. I still needed to save his phone number so neither of us would have to rely on the slow-ass mail system or through a computer for communication.

But, as expected, his account was once more inactive according to the greyed-out circle beside his name on the screen. I let off a sigh and crossed forehooves on the desk, burying my face into them. It's no use... I said, mentally. You'll have to wait a few more hours, Star, or maybe a day or two.

Just then, my ears perked as a ping noise rang in them through the headphone speakers. My head immediately lifted, and there in front of me, on the screen, was a message from Ray. In that instance, what worry I still had washed away. I could finally smile genuinely for the first time in over a month.

I sat up properly and positioned my hooves above the keyboard, beginning to type after a moment to think of what I wanted to respond with. "Hey. Can I call?" I typed.

After roughly a minute, Ray's reply came through, reading, "Not right now." I frowned at that, but then perked again when he included a follow-up message. "I can type though. What's up?"

I swiftly went to begin typing, only to stop with my hoof above the keys. Slowly, I withdrew it to ease back into the chair. What could I tell him? What should I tell him? I was right back at square one.

***

Just past sunset, while the sky still glowed a gradually-darkening blue, I ventured out, bundled up nicely, to a catwalk along the starboard side of the ship, situated a level below the flight deck. Around this time is when, at sea, air temperatures drastically drop. In addition to the constant breeze of the ocean, nights in early July rarely peak 54 degrees fahrenheit.

It was peaceful down here. Only the noise of the ocean below as the ship cuts through the ripples effortlessly, and minuscule racket from the flight deck above pervaded the moderately relaxing atmosphere. The spot, along with many others on either side of the ship, served as tranquil locations to catch some fresh air for a few minutes before somepony on duty drops by.

Of course, with my shift now over, I had all the time in the world. We would be in Manehattan in roughly two hours, just in time for the night watch to take the helm of the radar for me. Land was still beyond our line of sight and would be for some time, especially now with the dark of night settling.

As I exited onto the catwalk through a door, I stopped right in my tracks. The stallion leaning up against the railing also stopped, a burning lighter held a mere inch from igniting the tip of a cigarette in his mouth. His ice-blue gaze locked with the scolding crimson of my own, blinking a couple of times. To him, under this lighting, my form appeared pitch black from his perspective.

I stood there for a few moments, eyeballing him, only to continue up to the railing beside the pegasus as he closed the lighter and plucked the cigarette from his lips. With either of them in his hooves, they hung over the railing in his grip as he dipped his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Star."

"I'm not here to stop you, Anchorage." I replied, resting up against the railing and staring out over the darkening horizon.

He looked at me, then forward slowly. "Some habits cannot be broken, no matter how hard you try," the pegasus muttered.

"Every bad habit can be broken with patience." I stopped, emitting a nasal sigh. "Fuck, I loathe patience, and here I am lecturing you to..."

"I get it." Anchorage interrupted. If I had a second pair of eyes, they would be fixated on him right then and there. "I just..."

"You could get in trouble for even having that," I remarked, matter-of-factly.

"I know. But I couldn't leave without it. I tucked it real good when I packed." He then let off a curt chuckle. "Good thing it didn't set my bag on fire."

"No shit." I briefly darted my eyes over. I shook my head. "Just make it quick before somepony else sees you, or smells you."

Without a further word spoken, Anchorage brought both the cigarette and the lighter up. He flipped the lid to light the flame... then stopped. Like before, he held it an inch from the end of the cigarette. The soft light flickered on either of us and illuminated a very small area around and was virtually unnoticeable from a distance.

It surprised me only a little to see the flame survive for that long without blowing out itself against the wind. After about a minute, it did at last, all in the blink of an eye and a whisk of smoke. Just like that, the flame's sudden absence seemingly snapped Anchorage out of a trance. He shut the lid slowly, holding the lighter flat in his hoof now, and spat the cigarette right out of his mouth to let it fall into the water below. My head turned a little, looking at the greyish-white pegasus with an inkling of confoundment.

Anchorage twirled the lighter slowly in his hoof, almost unnoticeably curving his lips in a shallow glower as he examined the stainless steel construct of the tool, engraved on its forward face, a lopsided anchor with three chain links attached and hanging from the loop; his cutie mark.

"My stepfather gifted me this for my 21st. Didn't actually start using it 'til the middle of February." His teeth then grit slightly. "He wanted to relate to me so badly that he tried to get me to smoke. And he was successful." Anchorage lifted his gaze just a little to the water as it passed by ever so slowly, dark and cold under the post-dusk sky.

He wound his hoof back and tossed the lighter with the throw of a baseball pitcher out of sight, watching as it splashed a good twenty yards away. "Meh. Sea Current would not have wanted that."

Watching him discard both raised a sense of satisfaction. I blinked a couple of times in silence, before speaking. "Your father?"

The pegasus returned a slow, gentle nod, leaning up on the railing beside me once more. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry," I briefly said. No other words were needed then.

"It's okay." Anchorage replied, shallowly. "It was his decision to do what he did. I have no choice but to respect that decision." I opted to keep quiet then, doing so to avoid uttering the wrong words, and continued to listen. "And I have to respect that he wouldn't want me to smoke in his remembrance, too."

I quietly asked, "Is that why you started? Did it... was it helping? With the pain?"

A gentle nod followed. "Yes. A little bit." His frown became slightly more discernible.

I had to feel for him. By what little he has described his late father, it did seem like the two shared a robust relationship while he was still around. Something I could only wish for, but never receive. I decided to maintain small, harmless questions. "How long did you know him?"

"Sixteen years. He... it happened three months after I left for the Junior Reserves. The lieutenant commander in charge of the camp pulled me from class one day, I had no clue what the hell was goin' on, and... he..." Anchorage swallowed heavily as his eyes glassed over, voice cracking heartrendingly. "He... told me what had happened back home."

My ears fell as his voice audibly fell apart, his heart shattering into pieces. I knew it upset him last deployment, but never that it affected him this much.

He wiped at his cheek and sniffed heavily, his nose clogging. "And... it happened a whole week before the news came. S-so, seven days my father was dead, and... I didn't know until then. Seven days my m-mother and I could have held each other while they buried him."

"That's..." My ear twitched. "I'm sorry, that's a little fucked up. Why did it take so long for you to find out?"

He shrugged, letting his ears fall back. "That's Gander Cove for you. But, you know, they decided to wait on some of the services until I got back. Memorial, three volley salute... heh, they actually did that from the ship. That was neat to watch."

I responded with a comprehensive nod, facing off the catwalk for a minute. "Star, I..." Anchorage paused, maw open. I looked back at him. What he was about to say hesitated to emerge, until he turned and looked me dead in the eye. "I was scared."

That came off as a huge shock. "You, scared?" I cocked my head. The white pegasus arched his eyebrow at that, and I dismissed the jestful behavior. "Who wasn't?"

Sighing, the sailor gazed back out to sea and to the sky of alternating blues off on the horizon. "It sort of gave me memories of the East Conflict back in 2007, when Dad had to sail out on a new destroyer at the time. First of its class, fastest of its kind, sturdier, packed a bigger punch..."

"I don't recall any of that much. What happened?" I questioned, genuinely curious. After all, I was only twelve at the time and didn't hear much of news headlines.

"I ain't about to say war, but... it was a type of war where you don't shoot at anybody, you just stalk them until they flee. But then it... took a turn." Anchorage continued, finishing with a notable edge to his tone. I blinked a couple of times, nodding for him to go on.

With a shaky sigh, he resumed. "My dad's ship struck an old minefield from the early twentieth century, laid by the griffons in an attempt to sink Yak ships and stop them from crossin' the Antlertic. Took out four of our ships, including his. One was all it took, and it went down."

"I presume that all led up to... that... happening?" I commented cautiously.

"For sure." He shook his head slowly. "Fifty-six dead, over four hundred injured. Three years to build the ship, only to be sunk six months underway. This is the kind of shit they scrape under the rug and dangle above the heads of history buffs."

"Must be why it was only in newspapers, never talked about it in school." I glanced toward the west, drawing in a deep breath as I stretched a bit. "Mine would have been all over that shit. He lives to hear if we are at war with someone."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he flashed a look my way. "It would have taken a while for all of the details to be pieced together to implement it into the curriculum. Probably the school year after."

"I was on summer break at the time. I think."

"Really?" he looked over, shocked. "My town has school in the summer, and we have winter breaks."

"We had those, too, but they last two weeks. Mainly for Hearth's Warming." I shrugged. "I'd have enjoyed a summer-length winter break."

The pegasus beside me beamed a sly grin. "Shoulda moved to Gander Cove then."

"Hah, if only. Hell no, my dad would make me swim around the island every day. Twice."

He nodded. "Yeah, probably." After a couple moments of silence, Anchorage proceeded to jump back to the previous subject, half-glowering. "I just... worry about my mother."

I glanced over at him briefly, only confirming that something else was bugging him. "Yeah?"

"I... had some thoughts. Late night thoughts. And a few weird dreams." His head dipped to rest on his hooves along the catwalk railing. "I wondered what would happen if those ships picked up on our propulsion issue, if they were waitin' on some order to strike, and... how Mom would react if the news broke. My mom, she... well, she still has my stepdad. So, at least if somethin' happened to me, she wouldn't be alone."

"But she would still be devastated regardless. As far as you've made me aware, you are the only family she has left. And she is the only family you have left. You're irreplaceable."

Anchorage lightly shrugged. "She's the only blooded family I have left. Blood isn't what makes a family, anyhow. I figured that out not long after I joined."

I smiled faintly at that. "Ditto." My focus shifted over to him while he continued to stare at the water. "What about your stepdad, though? Other than... you know, him giving you a lighter with your cutie mark on it, what's bad about him?"

"He's... not a bad pony," Anchorage said with a sigh. "He makes an alright stepfather, has good intentions. I just..." he stopped, gaze lowering to the water churning below the hull. "Nothing and no one can replace what my biological father and I had."

"I understand that well." My head bobbed in a gentle nod, sighing and shifting a little. "I wish I could have had that with mine."

Anchorage lifted and turned his head. A faint, yet genuine smile appeared on his muzzle. "Look on the bright side, you haven't lost your mother. At least you can maintain a relationship with her and, you know, talk and whatnot."

I nodded a second time in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. Speaking of which..." My hoof reached into my blouse pocket, withdrawing my phone and tapping the squared button near the bottom of the screen to light it up. "Still no reception. Promised her I would talk every day on deployment."

"For security procedures, phones don't work on the ship. I mean, ya have wifi and all that fancy shit so you can do whatever it is you do on the internet, just can't talk to nobody. No cell towers out here."

"Yeah, kind of figured that out on my own. Thanks," I rolled my eyes and tucked the phone away. "Whatcha gonna do when we make port?"

"Me? Locate a bar, get drunk, eat a pizza, then sleep. Sleep a lot. With vicodin."

Sorry, Anchorage, I might have to copy your idea on my own. "Sounds like a plan," I chuckled, looking down the hull of the ship, in the direction of our current heading. "Can't wait to walk on solid ground again."

"For once, ditto." He bobbed his head in an agreeing nod. "But, you know, in all my years of loving the ocean and ships and all of that, there's one thing that stands out to me the most about that ship."

My brow furrowed, turning to look at him perplexedly. "What are you talking about? What ship?"

"The Alder," he tersely answered.

"What about it, and where in the hell did this come from?" I continued to stare in total confusion.

"Just something else I've been thinking of lately. Ship crews typically avoid tropical cyclones. It costs them time and sometimes money, but if they are offered enough by whoever it is they are shipping for, they will go to the lengths of getting their cargo to its destination on schedule and not follow designated paths to avoid the weather."

He wasn't making any sense with it. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything, I'm asking. What is it that they were transporting that it was so important to where they needed to make port by a certain time and not take the safe route to avoid the hurricane?"

My maw parted to speak, only to stop and muse for a couple of seconds. "I... am not sure. That's a good question actually. Buuut, it doesn't matter now, I suppose. All of its cargo is at the bottom of the ocean, probably rotting away at this point."

Anchorage gestured, "Now, hold on, I'm not finished. Think about those griffons we encountered."

"Yeah, I remember them." I shuddered a bit. "And?"

"They targeted the crew, not us. They were after the ship. You saw the explosives that were carefully planted in the engine room at the port aft. They were trying to destroy what ever it was that was on the Alder!"

He had a fair point, but it still didn't add up in my mind. "Well, they got what they wanted regardless. Besides, why engage if they weren't looking to kill us?"

"You're not getting it, Star. How much do you want to bet that, if they were looking for collateral, they would have killed us, too. No, there was something on that tanker that posed some sort of threat to them. Maybe we should try and figure out what was on the manifest, or... I dunno. Maybe we should talk to the captain, perhaps he knows something?"

"He can't possibly still be in Manehattan." I stated matter-of-factly, raising my eyebrow again. "It's been well over four months!"

"Not unless he's under witness protection of some sort." He shifted to face me directly. "Him and what's left of his crew. Evidently those griffons were highly trained and can get around, meaning they are just enough a threat to where they are still after them."

I started to chuckle. Anchorage coiled his head back and softly glared. My hoof waved, and I replied. "Anchor, come on, that's some of the most far-fetched shit I've heard you say by far. You know what that makes you sound like?"

"No, what?" He narrowed his eyes.

"A conspiracy theorist," I responded, far more seriously. "Come on. We were both there. They shot at and flash-banged us, that's an act of aggression on behalf of whomever it is they take orders from. Yes, they were well trained, so that rules out lingering Constitution troops and especially pirates."

I gently rested my hoof on Anchorage's shoulder. "I want answers, too. But the guesses you're making are far from educated. They just sound silly, actually."

"You know what?" the sailor lifted his blue irides, honing directly on to me. He gently smacked my hoof off of him and took a step back, scowling. "Fine, I'll do it myself. I'll read the cargo manifest if I can find it. You would be no help in it, anyway."

"Because I would much rather use logic, Anchorage. There was clearly something going on that we don't know about, but I'm not going to sit here and argue that, whoever those bird brains were, they weren't out for blood. If they were some sort of task force, where was the illegal activity? Can you explain that one?"

Anchorage raised his voice. "That's what I'm tryin' to explain here, Star! The illegal activity was the cargo!"

"Until you find something, buddy, I'll stick to my beliefs for the time being." I straightened my neck. "I don't want to fight with you. I just think... you miiiight be blowing this a bit out of proportion."

The pegasus groused and leaned back on the railing. "Fine, whatever you think." He went silent, zoning out over the diminishing view. Off in the far distance, lining the horizon, lights of gold and orange lined the gradually approaching coast. Home was in sight, and it never looked more beautiful.

After a few moments of quiet between us, he glanced over his shoulder and said, "Now I wish I hadn't thrown out that cigarette."

Author's Note

Short chapter to conclude the "All Hooves" arc, and also to mark the one year anniversary of this story being published!

35. Recalled

The night before was a long night. Fun, warm, and particularly relaxing, albeit long and a bit exhausting. After the movie had ended, Ray and I took a stroll around Canterlot and showed him a few of the sights, and relished each others' company. Admittedly, some of the spots selected off the top of my head might have been better during the daylight hours, though I don't think he minded much, as long as he had the opportunity to tick places of interest in the capital off his bucket list.

It wasn't until at least midnight when we headed back. In fact, the day had been so tiring that the poor thing couldn't rally the strength to make it to his hotel all the way in West Canterlot, near the skyport. Of course, I could have carried him there myself more than likely, but it was Ray's idea to stay the night at my place. It was closer, after all, and the sooner he reaches a spot to lay down, the better.

Acknowledging his trust was earned exceeding that threshold of crashing at another pony's apartment came off as reassuring, and I only hesitated to make sure he was okay with sharing a bed. If anything, that seemed like what he was planning from when he first suggested it. I didn't want him to be uncomfortable in the slightest, nor did he seem to be as he passed out the moment his form struck recently-washed sheets.

As I lay there for the first few minutes, listening to the gentle snores of a pegasus in slumber, a persistent reverie clashed with the conscience of my mind, wanting to take him in my arms and hold him like he does me, or has. Simultaneously, I knew better than to barge his personal space, especially while fast asleep. Physical contact as such for comfort is permissible for a couple, therefore Ray's side of the bed belonged solely to him. But that's where question fails to waver.

I'd made it somewhat clear that all of this was still happening a bit fast for my liking. It was in partial concurrence to that where he presented his notion that I am nowhere near, in this context, mature enough to know that for a certainty, which would only imply that Ray has potentially experienced more in the past relationship-wise, or he had made it a sub-hobby of his to understand the concept of romance. He's older by three years roughly, so the prior would make more sense.

It hurt, far more than I am willing to disclose. The feelings were there, the ones I believed I had for Rose Shine at one point. I think Ray understood that much, even with how poorly I have vocally interpreted. He seemed like no matter how I phrase, no matter what words I use, he develops a comprehension every time. Some instances I find him finishing my sentences for me, or saying what I want to say before I can speak or when I think it is the wrong thing to say. But the one thing I've yet to let him understand is my own insecurity.

Of course, his story that he is a traveling pony working at radio stations across the country is more believable than my upstairs neighbor, who once insisted on her unemployment and, come to find out, was and still is a sort of guinea pig for an intelligence agency whose identity is far above my pay grade. Hell, her name could be a cover too as far as I know.

I genuinely did not believe Ray could be the same, if not similar. The odds of that were far too slim. That said, it couldn't rule out the possibility of deceit sooner or later. It could also just be my guard refusing to let itself down long enough for him to work his way into my life if that is what his intentions are. I mean, that is what I want, and clearly the feelings are mutual to some extent. He knows well by now what it is I do for a living and that we cannot see each other all the time, though, unless that were to change. Such would be me moving closer to base, and him landing that dream job of talk show co-host in Manehattan later this year, assuming all of those little quakes don't scare everypony off and thwart his chances.

But after last night, it is safe to surmise he too acknowledges my silent cries for help. He may never have known me prior to the assault on Manehattan, though I can see he realizes my state of distress and that I was, in fact, somepony else before all of that, before I donned my uniform for the first time, even before I signed those papers in Ponyville. So he also says he knew a former grunt who lost a limb, and that is likely where his understanding originates.

It bothered me for too long. Now I see why they tell ponies to worry about the present, not the future. The problem is, that's precisely what I fail to do anymore. I can't help but worry about the future. Since the Eclipse was attacked, Manehattan soon after, then the shit on the Alder, and now the almost-war with Ajerstan and possibly its bordering allies, I felt as if there was no true future in store for me. No bright future. Nothing but dark, cold, and loneliness. I have my friends, yet that void even they cannot fill.

Ray, on the other hoof... he has that potential, and that is what terrifies me most. Not with him as the primary cause, but purely due to my own anxious tendencies, and it leaves me with the lingering fear that it will be for that reason why he abandons me in the future.

Time had passed so quickly that, although I do know for a fact that I did manage to doze off just a little bit, I felt like I had been laying there all night, over-calculating and worrying. One moment, it was the dead of night. The next, sunlight was filling the room through the window. My gaze fixed upon the spackled ceiling, eyes itching with weariness and mildly bloodshot. I don't know what all I expected, this was a normal night's rest in my case.

My head fell to the side, focus setting on the gold pegasus at my side. Ray slept flat on his stomach, hooves tucked beneath a pillow with his chin on top. His chest rose and sunk gently between quelled snores, an overall sight for my sore eyes. Setting all thoughts aside, I centered on him alone, letting my lips curl into a little, tired smile.

The peace, however, was short-lived. Opposite of me, on my nightstand, a familiar buzzing swiveled my ear. I jolted a little, jumpy from lack of sleep, turning over and pulling my phone up. The screen was lit up with a message from a number I did not recognize, although its area code originated from Manehattan.

"You up corporal?" it read.

I paused for a moment to contemplate who it could have been. Evidently they did not have the wrong number, and I could assume it to be somepony from base.

"I am now. Who is this?" I replied.

It only took a few moments for the number to type back, responding shortly after with, "Hardstaff. Do you have a TV?"

That would explain him referring to me as 'corporal', and I could assume now that it was Nightpath who gave him my number unsolicited for this instance. "Yeah. Why?"

"Turn it on. Now."

"What is it?" groaned a sleepy pegasus at my side, his eyes covered by a hoof against the dawn sunshine that even my curtains were powerless to fend off.

I sat up rather quickly, in turn momentarily dizzying myself. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Ray turned over and sat upright, fluttering his eyes open sleepily. "No, wait, what's going on?" he asked, maintaining a low volume and gently rubbing his left eye.

I found myself in the living room before he had time to finish his question, scrambling for the television remote. Once on, I switched quickly through some of the local channels until tuning to ENN, which was in the midst of a breaking news broadcast. It had been beyond my acknowledgement when Ray sleepily sauntered from the bedroom and plopped himself down on the couch beside me as I focused solely on the television screen. On it, the camera panned in on a stallion in a black and white suit and tie with his hooves politely together on a glass-topped anchor desk.

"It has been announced that, in three days, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, as well as Princesses Twilight Sparkle of Ponyville, and Princess Cadence of the Crystal Empire along with Prince Shining Armor, and many generals of the Equestrian Armed Forces are due to venture east to Manehattan for a summit meeting with top diplomats of Ajerstan, a nation on ice cold terms presently with Equestria. It is, for the moment rumored, a united effort to form a solid alliance and break the ongoing glaring contest across oceans between one another. Princess Celestia is due to make a statement within the hour at the Royal Gardens."

I rolled my eyes, groaning, bringing a hoof to my forehead to rub it. "Lovely. I get a whole seven days of leave and they take five of them from me."

"They'll have you in the city for that, won't they?" Ray, now essentially wide awake, turned to me with a look of concern and question.

My eyes closed, nodding my head slowly. "Likely putting us with local law enforcement to hold off protesters, if there are any."

"I would trust that there will be. Just stay safe, will you? For me?"

"I count on it," I said, mustering a small, reassuring smile. My hoof looped itself around the back of his neck in an amiable gesture, which seemed to clear up the air a little bit.

Ray parted his maw, silently yawning, licking over his lips. "Listen, I... I've got to be at the skyport by eleven. I'll have to stop by my hotel to get my things and check out." He stopped, turning to me with a warm smile. "You're more than welcome to tag along if you'd like. That is, if you have the time."

In all actuality, my best option would be to get packing to head back later tonight. Though, it couldn't hurt to spend a few more minutes with Ray. The sergeant only expected me in Manehattan some time tonight, and it was only roughly a quarter 'til ten in the morning.

"I don't see why not. It's not urgent that I report right this second, you know? Besides, we can get breakfast along the way somewhere."

Ray nodded, smile growing a bit. "I would like that." His stomach then rumbled. "A lot, actually. But, uh, let me pick this time, alright?"

At that, the two of us shared a laugh. I hopped up from the couch, rounding the corner, but not before looking back at him. "Hey, er... you're more than welcome to use my shower. If you want to, that is."

***

After showering and having a nice breakfast at a diner a couple blocks from my apartment, we ventured to West Canterlot to Ray's hotel so he could grab his luggage and check out. The process itself was fairly short, and far more simpler than my hotel experience in Coltlumbus during ConFest. That was an absolute nightmare.

We strolled around for a little bit to kill some time before Ray needed to be at the skyport, and to walk off all of the food. I suppose either of us should have expected to be stuffed like a Hearth's Warming turkey at said establishment that had the name of Granny's Home Cooking.

Not that I'm complaining, it was some damn good food, I'll give it that, and wonderful service. Whether or not the restaurant was actually owned by an elderly mare, those running the place seemed to have a decent idea of one's meal preparation. Any more eaten, however, and we would have fallen into a food coma, which would result in Ray missing his flight.

It amazed me that, in the present age of air travel, that zeppelins and other types of airships were still a form of long-range transportation. For Canterlot, it only made sense, considering how limited room was available for a modern airport. Perhaps if there weren't a city, maybe, but what would be the point then?

The Canterlot Skyport rested along a cliff overhang on the far west side of the city. Each mooring point accommodated two to three airships per, some branching off to other docks. Half of them were elevated above others to practically stack the aircraft atop one another to conserve room.

Between the docks and the city sat a three-story terminal building, constructed with a blend of modern and the ivory architecture that consisted of much of present-day Canterlot. The face of the structure toward the docks was primarily a wall of glass in center that sloped horizontal near the roof, complimenting the sleek blue and silver, aerodynamic, airship-like shape of the terminal.

Inside was no different than the train station in terms of seating in the waiting lounge, check-in counters, a couple of travel shops, a cafe on the first floor where a scent of freshly brewed roast that permeated the air originated, but the central hall was far more spacious and open where one could look straight up to the ceiling where the glass curves to meet the roof.

The two upper floors had balconies, connected on either side of the terminal by moderately narrow walkways only wide enough for two ponies. Up on the top floor was more of a private lounge for ponies with paid access to exquisite dining and entertainment. Damn Canterlot nobles...

Ray and I spent the few minutes we had with each other exploring the building as much as we could, and as far as either of us had access to. We mainly scoped out the little shops, stocked on wall shelves, hangers, box-bins, and tables with knickknacks and souvenirs of Canterlot; pretty much the basic necessities for a travel shop, along with a wall of magazines that covered every topic there is to discuss, rows of candy and snacks, and a couple of miniature refrigerators full of ice-cold bottled drinks.

I made sure to stock him up with a small bag of goodies to tide him over for the ride. While Ray turned his attention away to the magazine rack, I sneakily paid for a little stuffed fox and wrapped it up in a second bag to hide it with his snacks. It would be the first thing he sees more than likely, and whether or not he unwraps it before he leaves, I knew he would enjoy a little companion to travel with.

It wasn't more than a few minutes after, however, when the boarding call came. Passengers began gathering near the exit that led out to the gate docks and filing out to the aircraft. Before it was Ray's turn, I gently tucked the bag in an outer pouch of his luggage, and the two of us exchanged one final embrace.

"Have a safe trip. Text me when you land," I said, chin on his shoulder with my hooves looped around him.

"I will," replied Ray, closing his eyes and smiling. "Text me when you get off the train. You might not have cell service in the tunnels."

"Yeah, true." I chuckled softly. I broke the hug, placing a hoof on his shoulder, my eyes gazing into those gorgeous emeralds, twinkling in the bright, natural light of the terminal.

Ray leaned forward, rubbing his nose against mine and flicked his tail. Brief of a gesture, yet affectionate all the same, and enough to bring a gentle warmth to my cheeks. Turning around, Ray looped his hoof through the handle of his rolling baggage and hauled it behind him on his way to the door. He glanced back over his shoulder to wave one last time.

Raising my hoof to wave it back, I watched as he ventured out the door along with his fellow passengers, and loop around the corner out of sight, on his way to the bridge where his airship had docked, waiting to depart.

I headed outside through the revolving door we first entered and went along the side of the building, leaning against a safety railing to watch. It wasn't particularly difficult to make out Ray's designated vessel, as there were only three present at the time. One was disembarking, the other sit idle with no activity whatsoever, and the third had a group of ponies approaching it, before being greeted by a ticket agent to check their boarding passes.

Before stepping aboard, a unicorn royal guard enveloped each passenger with a glowing aura, as well as their luggage. From a distance, I could make out their shiver as the magic ceased, determining it to be a spell to check for anything illegal—the conventional way.

Once the process completed, a pair of unicorns dressed in orange vests for easy spotting untied the ship from the dock, and it began to drift freely at a gentle pace. With a puff of smoke, the single turbine at the rear of the passenger cabin began to sputter and roar to life. Even from where I stood, it sent a subtle breeze sweeping across the block as it rotated a full 180 degrees into a departure position.

In just a few minutes, the airship pulled away from the dock and turned away from the city, vanishing behind the massive architectural masterpiece known as the Canterlot Palace, the sole structure to dominate Canterlot's rather shallow skyline.

When it disappeared from my line of sight, I turned and started for home. There was much to be done still, and it was imperative that I be in Manehattan by dusk.

***

While long and uneventful as usual, the ride on the train to Manehattan was a rather unsettling one. Two units of royal guards, armed to the teeth with spears and swords in leather scabbards looped around their barrels and attached to their armor pieces boarded the carriage ahead of mine. One or two filed in to my car when theirs presumably became overcrowded.

On one hoof, it was relieving to see security forces already en route in preparation. It told me that Canterlot was in no silly mood for this event, but on the other hoof, it meant one of two things; everything will be tight in and around the city, meaning more time annoyingly spent places attempting to reach someplace else, or there is a significant threat—which would not surprise me in the least. Threats were a part of the princesses' travel routine by now, and have been for decades, if not centuries. Besides, this was Ajerstan we were talking about.

The two of Celestia's soldiers to have moved went without their helmets for the majority of the journey. They spent the time conversing, strictly maintaining casual topics but also occasionally bringing up plans to remind themselves of their duties as soon as they get off the train.

It wasn't my place to eavesdrop; in fact, getting caught doing so would lead to embarrassment on my part, and either two individual, or two dozen guards breathing down my neck. As such, listening without appearing so had since been an acquired talent of mine. I could be staring out the window at the scenery as it raced by while picking up every word spoken from those guards and not so much as flick a look in their direction. It proved effective, though all I ended up making out was some idea of their assignments, which turned out to be nothing more than what I anticipate for myself come Wednesday.

But, atop all of that, a peculiar sense of secrecy carried on in the carriage, along with a touch of tension and worry. The guards were keeping something hushed up, that's for sure. I didn't blame them, that is their job to maintain the confidentiality of the matter. They, however, were aware of something that I was not. At least, not for the present time. Whatever it may be, it tingled in my mind that it would be worth mentioning on Hardstaff's behalf in a briefing tonight or tomorrow.

***

The greyish-white pegasus strolled along the sidewalk down one of Kings' busiest streets. The abnormally cool temperature of the mid-summer afternoon prompted him to wear no more than a navy zip-up jacket, adorned by the white and grey crescent moon-and-anchor emblem of the Lunar Navy.

His path took him far south of Joint Base Manehattan, along a coastal corridor known as the South Front, on the opposite side of Manehattan Island. Situated in South Front was the Port of Manehattan, the busiest harbor in Equestria. If it weren't for his own personal mission, Anchorage would have spent the time shipwatching, like he did back on his home island.

The Port of Manehattan spanned roughly two miles from north to south, beginning at the southern banks of the Trotson River. While for the most part off-limits to non-personnel, where Anchorage needed to go remained accessible to an extent. Along the outside of the ten-foot barbed-wire fence that marked the port's limits stood a small two-story building constructed of brick and concrete, bland in its nature, albeit crucial to the harbor's stringent and meticulous operations.

Anchorage jarred open the glass door with a simple yank of the handle and took a few steps inside the paper and ink-scented building; quiet, apart from a ringing phone somewhere in the back, hooves typing away on a keyboard, and pieces of paper shuffling.

He strolled past the receptionist's desk and down a short corridor that led into a small room of cubicles, and a large wrap-around desk occupied by one sangria-coated earth pony mare. "Hey there, Cherry," he began, leaning over a half-wall between the walkway and her desk.

Glancing up from her computer screen, the mare in question, Cherry Lilly, blinked in partial bewilderment behind her round-edged glasses. "Anchorage? What are you doing here?" she said, taking off her glasses and folding them up, maintaining a low volume of her voice.

A small grin crossed the northern stallion's muzzle. It was, without a doubt, relieving to hear that particular voice to him. "So, uh, listen. It's been a while; we haven't heard from each other in a couple of months, but I need to ask a favor."

Cherry leaned a bit back into her chair, arching her eyebrow at the pegasus' moderately questionable demeanor. She, however, chose not to ask further about why he was bugging her at work. "What kind of favor?"

"I need you to run a manifest search on a ship, dating back to March of this year. Can you do that for me?"

Consequently, the sailor's request set off a few alarms in the mare's mind. It wasn't her job to disclose such information if the authorities were not involved. She knew he was in the Navy, and herself retained enough insight to acknowledge that he wasn't somepony to take part in an investigation unless it directly incorporated him.

Cocking her head to the side, Cherry gave Anchorage a look of complete and genuine query. "What for?" The tone of her question came off with a trace of doubt surrounding the matter.

"Work purposes that I cannot impart, I am afraid," he countered, the smirk on his face telling the mare otherwise, and he knew that. "Prench Trading Ship Alder, most recent recorded voyage."

Cherry Lilly turned her attention to her computer screen, pretending to ignore the pegasus. If it were anything she hated most, it was having her work interrupted, especially by somepony who still did not belong in the building to begin with. However, it grabbed her attention when Anchorage produced a bag of money from the pocket of his jacket and bounced it around in his grasp to clink the coins within.

"A whoooole one-hundred bits, and it could be yours if ya help a stallion out. Will you?"

The mare's honey irides dashed between the sack of money dangling from his hoof to Anchorage's crafty smirk. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she slid her chair back and began typing away. "One moment."

Anchorage eased himself into a comfortable leaning position with his forehooves crossed and hanging over the desk lip, observing the sangria earth mare go to work. The process went on for a couple of minutes, and after more typing and a few clicks of her mouse, a window of data regarding the fated tanker ship opened in center of the screen.

As Cherry read over it, she coiled her head back. "Huh, interesting. There's no manifest record of the Alder in March, or... this year at all."

Anchorage's ears stood up attentively, and his look of wits shifted to one of puzzlement. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"It says here that... actually, the Alder was removed from service back in October of 2007, ran aground intentionally to be scrapped in Valkyria."

The pegasus blinked a couple of times, squinting, staring right at the mare. "That's not possible. It... it was sunk in a storm back in March!" he sputtered, narrowly maintaining a decent inside volume. He leaned over the desk, stretching his neck out just a bit to catch a glance at her computer screen to see for himself.

Cherry peered over at the bewildered pegasus, affirming the information shown. "I'm sorry, Anchorage, the records show it has been out of service for eight years."

Slowly, Anchorage withdrew from the screen and stood up straight. He gazed forward in contemplation, maw parted slightly. When he finished with his thoughts, the bag of money dropped onto the mare's desk with a thud and the rustling of coins within.

"Thank you for your help, Cherry, I appreciate it." And, without another word, he walked away.

"Hey, wait! Anchorage! Is something wrong?" she called, standing up and glancing down the hall after him, only to receive silence in response as the pegasus headed out onto the street.

Once outside, Anchorage veered left and started down the sidewalk. He lowered his gaze, musing over what he had just moments ago discovered. The Alder wasn't taken out of service, I stood on it... We stood on it... We watched it sink.

There was something he was missing. Something huge. So big that it was beyond the reaches of the Port of Manehattan's knowledge. It raised many alarms in his mind, and he now understood that what he is after was far larger than he had anticipated.

He froze in his tracks when the realization struck him like an oncoming train, eyes shooting wide open and head jerking up. Without a moment of hesitation, Anchorage spread his wings and leaped skyward in a single bound, soaring above the buildings and darting toward base.

***

The last few minutes of the journey were unsettling ones, to say the least. When it came over the intercom that the Manehattan Police and the Equestrian Army would be performing a routine security sweep of the train upon arrival, those in my carriage began swiftly preparing themselves for pat-downs and checks of their luggage.

I didn't pay much mind to it, as such precautionary measures are a norm ahead of big events, especially political ones, and there was nothing of mine to hide. While I typically arm myself with a fold-up knife, this time I had managed to forget it at my dorm back on base, and it would be quite a time before I am capable of scraping together the funds to arm myself with a sidearm, or something of the like.

No one but the two guards in the carriage stood when the train slowed, pulling into the station. It was with the strength of their muscles from months of being beaten into shape in the Academy that prevented them from so much as stumbling when the train jolted to a halt. They, along with fellow armored stallions and mares, exited the train. It left a question sitting unrestfully in the air, regarding the soldiers' negligence to search them as part of procedure.

Replacing the guards, a pair of soldiers donning a green and tan digital pattern of camouflage boarded, loaded rifles hanging around their necks by straps. The buttermilk-yellow one wore the insignia of a corporal, and the bombay-brown unicorn accompanying him, a private first class. Both wore sleek black sunglasses, even under the cover of the station platform.

"All right, we are going to need everypony to stand up and stay put. We will have all of you out of here shortly, this is just a routine screening. Private First Class Hamstring here will take your bags for x-ray scanning, while I will be checking each of you for weapons or anything that could be utilized for the harm of others," the corporal addressed.

At his word, every pony in the carriage not yet standing rose to their hooves, including myself. I placed my backpack on the center aisle and let the unicorn do his job. Most would expect a scanner machine to be used in this situation, although a screening spell for those who understood it well enough to perform it proved to be the superior mode of checking for contraband. However, in most cases, the magic itself was primarily for medical use, such as detecting internal wounds and broken bones.

Though invisible to our eyes, the private first class searched every piece of luggage one by one, only dropping them back off to their rightful owners when the spell was complete. In the meantime, the corporal thoroughly patted down pony after pony from the front of the car back and releasing them when done. I was among the few toward the rear of the carriage, and it was a bit over five minutes when it was my turn to be searched.

"Will you open your wings for me, sir?" he requested, and as such, I spread my wings as far as they could go. Not wearing clothes was a plus, considering that may take extra time, and realistically, only a pegasus' wings could hide something under or between the feathers fairly well.

Against a tickling sensation caused by his hoof searching through my feathers, I maintained a composed posture while the corporal did his job. But, what surprised me the most when he finished was what he said. "Are you military?"

I blinked a couple of times, dumbfounded. "How can you tell?"

"You are unusually built for a pegasus of your size," he remarked, staring through pitch-black shades. "If I am to judge based on your coat, and your cutie mark, you are stationed here in Manehattan, at the joint base?"

I continued to stare in mild disbelief for a few lengthy moments, before bobbing my head in a nod. "Yes, sir. Corporal Star Shooter, Lunar Marine Corps, 25th Battalion, 4th Marines."

With an acknowledging nod, the soldier brought his com speaker up and spoke into it. "Got a Marine here, requesting direct transport to Joint Base Manehattan."

"Is something wrong, soldier?"

Setting his hoof down, the corporal simply smiled. "Not at all. We are told to provide transportation to the base for anypony called in." He then cordially smacked my shoulder and picked up my backpack for me, which I took from him. "There'll be a taxi for you outside, and it is fully paid for."

I nodded once, slipping my hooves through the straps to let it sit on my back. "Thank you."

"Not a problem. Have a nice day," he said, before moving on to the next pony to pat down.

With that, I stepped off the train onto the platform and made my way to the staircase. On each of the platforms stood pairs of soldiers, and along the walkway that crossed over each track leading to the main hall patrolled city guards straight from Canterlot, as well as more batches of armed soldiers.

After the short walk to the front of the station, and out onto the streets, there sat a taxi carriage with my name on it guarded by another soldier, who went as far as opening the door for me. I thanked him, hopping in, and sat back for the short ride across the bridge.

***

"Hey! Where have you been, Star? Hardstaff's getting everypony together in the duty hut. Said he's going to brief us on the Wednesday's summit meeting."

Now in uniform, I strolled up beside Nightpath, walking with him. "I just got back in town not a half hour ago, Night. You know, I would have enjoyed a full week of leave, and I'm sure you would have, too."

Night let out a little huff through his nostrils, flicking his ear. "Well, you're not wrong. But, service comes first. You understand that."

My head bobbed in a single nod. "Of course. I knew that after I signed up."

Our journey brought us to a small structure on the east side of base. Only two six-inch wide windows per wall occupied the faces of the ground-floor building to minimize natural light within. Immediately through the twin glass doors sat rows of chairs, a whiteboard with a pull-down projector screen covering it. The Marines in our unit were just gathering and taking their seats, with Hardstaff along the far wall, scrutinizing every pony to enter the building.

I could tell, just from one glance in his general direction, his unusually tense body posture and the roughened demeanor on his countenance, that Sergeant Hardstaff meant business.

"Let's get to it, shall we?" he began, nodding to the final Marine of our unit to enter, who dimmed the lights and took a seat in one of the few remaining fold-up chairs placed in tidy rows.

"So, as I am certain y'all are well aware by now, the princesses are expected to make a trip to Manehattan within the next two days. Their reason? A well-anticipated summit meeting with top ambassadors and other diplomats of the sovereign nation of Ajerstan, to work out, quite possibly, a peace treaty of sorts.

"Take notes if you must, as everything we will discuss for the next forty-five minutes is crucial information," he concluded, making his way to a projector at the rear of the room. With the flick of a switch, a square of bluish-white cast upon the screen in front of us.

Trotting back to where he stood, now illuminated by the projector's light, his form shadowed behind, Hardstaff opened up a laptop computer placed on a table beside him and held his hoof on the touch pad. He turned his focus toward us, continuing.

"As ya know, security and safety of the ponies are our top priority over the course of the week. Princesses Twilight Sparkle and Cadence are due to arrive sometime this evening by rail and will be escorted to their designated hotel rooms in lower Manehattan, while Princesses Celestia and Luna should arrive via airship at 1400 hours tomorrow afternoon."

Hardstaff tapped a button on the keyboard, switching the projection to a map of the whole city and its boroughs, showing the planned routes. Picking up a pointer, he tapped the far end on top of Manehattan Central Station, followed by Manehattan International Airport, both taps fortissimo to further snatch our attention.

"As for our guests—their plane will touch down tomorrow evening, where we will rendezvous with them on the tarmac and be a part of their detail. They will be brought to the embassy in Midtown to get settled in before having dinner at 2000 hours with Princess Twilight, as per request on her behalf. It has many of our generals and commanders fuming for the sole fact that it will require extra security for an extended period of time, and will cause major disruptions for the dinner rush across Manehattan Island."

Pressing a key again, the projector displayed a zoomed-in street grid map centered on one particular, enormous structure complex that lies in perfect center of lower Manehattan, in the shadows of countless skyscrapers.

"This, right here, mares and gentlecolts." Hardstaff stopped to circle his pointer around the rectangular-shaped location. "This is where it all comes down to. At noon precisely, the summit meeting shall take place at the United World of Countries Building. It has been determined that there is no better place to hold the conference than here, smack dab in our own backyard."

Next, he pulled up an actual image of the building and the surrounding high-rises. "Each tower, every shop, any apartments will be inaccessible to the public for a three block radius surrounding the UWC. The brightest minds have been on top of this since last night, and any point which could be used for a possible enemy to target either one of our princesses, Ajerstan's ambassadors, or simply innocent bystanders is closed off. According to them, it varies by height of building and angle, and thus each potential 'point blank', as we are calling it, will be fortified by Equestrian Army, Lunar Marines, and, you guessed it, Royal guards."

In the row ahead of us, a red-and-blue-maned pegasus raised his hoof after having them crossed for a time. Hardstaff set his sky-blue gaze on him, nodding. "Go ahead, Private First Class."

The pegasus shifted in his seat to straighten his spine. "What's our use for Wednesday, Sergeant?"

"Good question. I am glad you asked, Storm Lancer," Hardstaff gave him a single nod. "Orders for us are simple; security forces, on the ground. The majority of us will be inside the UWC, mostly inside the central hall, where all of the talks will occur. We will be joined by Sunshine Company, one of Princess Celestia's top guard units and one of the few companies in the Royal Guard that provide as her personal escort. For this trip, she will have two.

"As such, Princess Luna will be convoyed by her House Guard for the flight and will be teaming up with our sister squadron for the chariot into Manehattan and will provide an armed watch. Princess Cadence will be traveling with her Crystal Entourage, as well as her husband, Prince Shining Armor and Captain of the Royal Guard, and Princess Twilight Sparkle will join them upon arrival."

When he finished, the projector screen turned blank with bluish-white light once more, and Hardstaff stood in the middle of it, the light simply shedding over the dark stallion's form. "This is the big game we are talking about, Marines. I expect everypony here to be on their highest alert, and remember your training if the time calls for it. Any further questions?"

Author's Note

Ten more chapters until the Eye of the Storm concludes.

36. Peaceful Measures - Part I

"It is a... wonderful sight, no?" commented a greyscale earth pony, voice painted with a timbre of Balkan origin, fitted impeccably in a jet-black suit and tie, a snow-white undershirt, and greyish-white sleeve cuffs around his hooves. The amber of his sights gazed out the starboard oval window of the aircraft, just a few rows ahead of the engine and the wing it was mounted to.

The plane was on a descent from cruising altitude, having redirected far north of the original flight path to avoid a massive storm system over the ocean east of Equestria's coast. The deviation brought them over the far northeast coast where, from their height at the time, the snow-capped peaks of the north country were visible to the naked eye only behind thin strands of clouds, as well as much of the coast for a hundred miles north of Manehattan, especially past Alderneigh.

To his left, across the center aisle, relaxed a brass unicorn, politely and cautiously sipping a cup of hot espresso with the aid of a magical field surrounding the handle, as well as simultaneously reading a booklet encased in fine leather that contained crucial information of the mission ahead. "Gorgeous," he replied, unwavering his focus for not even a moment.

A thin smile, narrowly noticeable up close, pursed the lips of the greyscale stallion as he studied the coastal land below. He took in a breath, letting it off quietly yet audibly in the form of a contented sigh. "It has been far too long since my eyes set on this wonderful nation."

"Not much has changed, Suldur," uttered the unicorn, momentarily darting his pupils in the earth pony's direction, then up at a stewardess as she promptly refilled his cup and thanked her with a single tip down of his chin. It was when she returned to the galley when the unicorn shifted gears toward the grey stallion.

The simper sported on the stallion's muzzle fell into a more discernible glower. His left ear swiveled sideways and pinned back halfway. His conscience buzzed with conflict, attempting to remind himself why they were there in the first place. Frankly, he could not muster himself to believe what his home thinks of Equestria, and all of the surrounding propaganda. It simply was not true in his eyes, and as an ambassador with peace in mind, he would prove his fellow pony incorrect, that they are simply misinformed.

"We shall see about that," remarked Suldur, shifting in his seat and leaning back into it with his hooves on either armrest.

The brass unicorn rolled his eyes in annoyance, scoffing under his breath as he held the cup mere inches from his lips. "Her leading princess is the same as every decade before it, you should know this. Their ideologies have not changed in centuries, either. Quit being so gullible."

Gently, Suldur shook his head, glancing out the window again as the jet descended through a patch of cloud cover, shrouding the sun that hung by a thread above the western horizon as dusk approached. He muttered narrowly above the low whine in the cabin, "Perhaps it isn't me who is the gullible one."

His companion merely pretended not to hear the greyscale stallion's mumbles, only going as far as throwing a stabbing glare across the aisle while the oblivious pony gazed elsewhere.

In the final minutes before landing, the brass unicorn made sure to finish every last drop of his espresso to hand off the empty cup to the stewardess and tucked his reading glasses away in one of his vest's two breast pockets. Both him and Suldur buckled their seat belts, as did the others aboard the aircraft in other compartments.

The plane banked in a rather sharp turn to line up with the airstrip, enduring brief patches of turbulence on final approach. Water droplets streaked across the outer fuselage and the windows, descending through a second, lower cloud layer of rain showers and only slightly deteriorated visibility, not nearly adequate to raise any concern.

At long last, they were on the ground, indicated by a light jolt of the wheels below the wings and nose kissing the wet runway. The engines whined at a higher pitch as reverse thrust engaged, kicking up water and creating a cloud of mist that enveloped much of the aircraft while it gradually slowed to a safe taxi, where it rolled off on an exit road toward a set of large hangars and warehouses on the northwest sector of the airport. There, a unit of Lunar Marines, a convoy of carriages, and ground crews awaited.

"Hmm, zeems we do, in fact, have quite ze welcoming party. Most impressive," said a pear-green unicorn, donning the dress uniform of an Ajerstanian naval admiral, head dipped to peek out Suldur's window after having stood from his seat.

***

To anypony, there was something about airplanes that is simply magical about them. To me, an enormous piece of machinery with wings and a pair of petroleum-powered turbines that were at one point experimental in some factory near Seaddle, weighing a couple hundred tons in all and is still perfectly capable of getting off the ground with ease, is just weird, albeit astonishing.

Planes became dominant in the air travel industry in Equestria roughly a century prior, built to cut previous travel times via airship or by rail, and the overall higher demand for new modes of transportation. Of course, pegasi are naturally able to get to and from places nationwide, weather contingent, and few unicorns have ample knowledge of magic in that aspect, which leaves earth ponies and the average unicorn on exhausting cross-country hikes or spending hours or even days on a train, depending on the distance.

As such, airships have been phased out over the recent decades, but continue traditional routes out of Canterlot. That, and the kingdom still flies one specifically made for the princesses. Evidently it costs copious amounts more to construct and operate one than a modern airliner, and everypony knows the big corporations regard price tags above all else. Plus, if it gets you where you need to go in a short amount of time, that is more than good enough for me.

Watching the black-and-silver wide-body jet touch down was a thing of wonder. The blast of the engines immensely kicked up water, shrouding the rear half of the aircraft with vapor, almost like the ring that forms around a supersonic object as it breaks the sound barrier, but at a much slower speed. The roar of its engines, even from a distance, became dreadfully loud, more so as it turned off of the runway and toward where we had been positioned and standing by for the last hour and a half in the cold rain and blustery wind.

Alas, we weren't alone out there. For some extremely, dull-witted reason, photographers of the media were also allowed on the airport grounds to snap pictures of the dignitaries as they disembark and are collected by us, where we would then bring them to the embassy downtown and, possibly later, to a meetup with Princess Twilight Sparkle for dinner.

The plane soon came to a stop a few yards from where we waited, lights of green and red flashing in a consistent pattern in reflections off of the dampened cement. A half-crew of ponies rushed underneath to plant stoppers against the wheels, while the second group hauled a staircase against the fuselage, lining it up impeccably with the front exit. The whine of the engines decreased in pitch as they shut down, and the door popped inward, sliding up into a space in the ceiling.

For its size, only perhaps twenty or thirty ponies, including the flight crew, were on board. The plane itself was large enough that it appeared as if it could hold roughly 300 and some change. Of course, political aircraft specializing in carrying very important ponies utilized the space for more than just transport.

A few flashes of cameras illuminated up the side of the aircraft, brighter than lightning only slightly. They increased in frequency as the first of the Ajeri diplomats stepped out, tailed closely by a uniformed stallion holding an umbrella over them.

After them, a brass unicorn in a black vest with silver buttons lining the center, deflecting rain through a mastered shield spell hovering above him transparently, protecting every inch of his body and keeping it dry.

Then came a second unicorn in splendid dress blues, decorated on his right breast with a rather impressive ribbon rack, with platinum devices on his collar of a naval officer; more specifically, an admiral.

Without so much as glancing over his shoulder, Hardstaff promptly barked to us. "Atten-tion!" The hooves of eight Marines, my own included, clicked together in unison, and everypony stood tall with hardened countenances. "Salute!"

At his order, my hoof, along with seven others, raised steadfast. As a cordial gesture for new arrivals, especially important members of a distant nation, protocol had it where, no matter of rank or title, that they must be greeted with utmost respect as a display of dignity.

Hardstaff was the last to salute, only doing so when the admiral and the ambassadors halted before us. The Ajeri officer gracefully repaid the salute, then firmly shook hooves with Hardstaff.

"Admiral Gantry, Ambassador Suldure, Consul Buchard, my name is Sergeant Hardstaff. On behalf of the Lunar Marine Corps, I would like to welcome you to Manehattan," he declared, keeping his volume above the pattering of the rain and the chatter of paparazzi to our left.

The first to speak up was the grey earth pony of the trio, offering a mere yet abrupt correction of Hardstaff. "Please, Sergeant, address me casually as Suldur, pronounced like soldier," he commented with a warm smile.

Hardstaff tipped his chin in acknowledgement toward the greyscale stallion. "My apologies. I am afraid they do not include name pronunciations in the briefing forms."

The remark brought small chuckles from Suldur and Gantry. "Everypony makes mistakes once and a while, Sergeant Hardstaff," chimed the grizzling admiral. "Let us all get out of the rain, shall we?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," nodded the sergeant, turning to us afterward. "Let's get a move on, fellas." He then shifted back to the trio as we broke formation to secure the enclosed carriages stationary behind us. "Admiral, Mr. Ambassador, and Mr. Consul, if you would please?"

I stood beside the third carriage, holding open the door as the quiet brass unicorn strolled up, dissembling the spell protecting him from the rain and climbing in with care. He gave a nod of thanks beforehand, and as soon as he was secure inside with an accompanying Ajeri soldier, I closed the door and made my way to the carriage behind it. In all, there were five. Two escort carriages, and three for transport, one per diplomat. The escorts consisted of four Marines each, with Hardstaff accompanying Admiral Gantry in the leading carriage.

Members of the flight crew disembarked last and were shuttled off to the main terminal separately, where carriages would await to take them to a different hotel in the city and spend the next few days in Manehattan until it comes time to fuel up and fly home.

As soon as everypony loaded up, one by one, we hauled off to one of the gates leading out of the airport and essentially leaving the press behind. The last thing we needed was a pony attempting to get the best pictures for their respective media outlet and getting injured in the process, incidentally or intentionally. Of course, that would not stop pegasi, though I imagine our guns would be more than enough to make them maintain a suitable distance for the sake of themselves and our guests.

In advance, streets were blocked off to ensure a direct route to the embassy without any hiccups. A good six and a half miles of road vacated of civilian hoof and taxi traffic, as well as one of the main bridges connecting to Manehattan Island, all of which accomplished by temporary barriers and armed peacekeepers manning each intersection involved.

It grew a bit more rough on the final stretch, where ponies had weathered the storm above to gather on both sides of the street. Some carried signs that welcomed the arrivals, others chanted with posters of protest extended as high as their hooves stretched, their curses and in one or two cases derogatory language against Ajerstanians narrowly above the ambience of crowds at every turn taken.

The convoy rolled up to the front of the embassy building, one of the shorter high-rise structures in Midtown. Situated atop a granite plate up a minute flight of steps, it sported an asymmetrical, modern shape with the lobby floor narrower than the ones above. Its exterior consisted predominantly of white marble, with five-inch-thick bulletproof and magic-wicking glass panes stretching uninterrupted to the top. In the courtyard along the front of the building and stretching around the corner stood numerous flags of other nations around the world, with Equestria's flying proudly in center above all.

We unloaded from the back of the escort cart as embassy officers made their way to the curb and aided the diplomats out of their carriages and up to the door. Strangely enough, this was done with ease, without a single pony who should not have been here in sight. Evidently, they knew how to clear a block and prolong it.

Hardstaff walked Admiral Gantry up to the door and was still talking to him along the way. They exchanged a final salute with one another, before the admiral headed inside through a glass door held open ahead of him. After ensuring the naval officer was safe within the embassy, the sergeant made his way back down to us and, before we could take a moment to breathe, he began barking orders left and right. We weren't done here yet, and this was merely a quick stop. Our next objective involved bringing the three to meet with Princess Twilight; a short jaunt east, only eight and a half blocks, and frankly a reduced stress load than the initial trip for that reason.

When the yelling ceased, and the sergeant headed up front to speak with the front puller, ponies of our unit split apart to watch stations surrounding the carriages while we waited. It would be at least twenty to thirty minutes until the ball rolls again.

Having taken point under a glass canopy at the embassy's entrance, I shook off my wings, letting the collected rain droplets roll off and onto the ground. My uniform and body vest drenched still, and I heard a hot, steamy shower calling for me once off duty in a couple of hours. I turned to Nightpath beside me, saying, "Good weather, if you're like me and love to curl up under a blanket, sip a mug of hot chocolate and watch a movie."

The brown draft stallion on my right gently shivered, his breath shaky as he sucked it in. "It's the middle of fucking July, I'm not ready for fall so soon."

He wasn't all wrong. The cold front sitting over the east coast brought soaking rains and October-like wind patterns. When it first rolled in, one could mistake the weather for a hurricane making landfall. Crackles of lightning and the earth-shaking booms of thunder went on throughout the overnight hours the evening before.

It didn't cause too much trouble since we were both on duty at the time. It was only when it came time to walk home that the issue arose. The storms passed, although a massive swath of heavy rains took its place and still had yet to show any signs of breaking today going into tonight, meaning a long, cold ride home. Thankfully, forecasts predicted the skies to clear in time for tomorrow. At least, partially. No guarantees on warmer weather, however.

"I get you." I nodded, silencing a yawn as it emerged. "You know Manehattan, though, weather changes in the blink of an eye. Gotta keep that in mind."

Night shrugged his shoulders, letting off a fleeting sigh. "Just wish it would make up its damn mind for once in a blue moon."

At that, I brought my hoof up and slugged him in the arm. He simply looked at me, rubbing the spot. "Ooow! Was that necessary?"

"Don't say that while her highness is in town!" I teased, grinning up at him. Night turned his nose up. He jerked his hoof out toward me, and impulsively I leaped to the side with us both chortling. "Hey, easy! I'm the small one of the two of us, remember?"

"I remember," he nickered, smirking with distinction. "Kind of why I picked on you back in basic. No hard feelings, of course."

I simply rolled my eyes and fell back in position next to him. By now, he and I were virtually to the point of friendship where unfavorable recollections become jokes of the past. We acknowledged now that neither of which were offended in any way by them—not anymore, that is, and it is that which we now cherish as good friends.

After almost a half an hour of standing around, the order came from an embassy agent stepping outside a minute ahead of Gantry and Suldur on their way to the carriages. We moved into positions and awaited the two, and upon their exit, Hardstaff walked to the agent with an aura of debate on his expression.

"Where is Consul Buchard?" the sergeant queried, questioning the diplomat's sudden absence.

"Consul Buchard demands to rest here until tomorrow and wishes to skip the meeting with Princess Twilight," the agent responded, monotone in his answer.

Without disputing it any further, the dark-coated pegasus sergeant returned to us as the admiral and ambassador loaded up into their individual carriages with their protectors.

"All right, let's move it out!" shouted Hardstaff, motioning his hoof for us to load up into the escort carriages, before taking up the leading cart along with four other Marines.

Night and I piled into the trailing carriage, while one of the embassy agents shut the hatch and tapped twice on the metallic skin, a signal that we were ready to go.

***

Right on schedule, we arrived at Saffron Leaf, the designated meeting place selected by the Princess of Friendship herself. The rain, for the time being, ceased enough to where umbrellas were unnecessary for our VIPs. Additionally, the two were more than pleased with our timing where, when they first stepped out of their carriages, personally thanked each and every one of us.

In all honesty, it was a breath of fresh air, especially since all that happened at sea a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps there was more than what meets the eye about Ajerstan, even if these were just two of their own out of millions. The hope still existed that something could be worked out with the princesses, and maybe, just maybe, this evening might make that difference. Princess Twilight Sparkle was, after all, the alicorn known for mending relationships, particularly between a couple of ponies; more less political relationships, but what did I know?

After the two were ushered inside, we took up watch positions surrounding the fine establishment. Like the area encompassing the embassy, no soul apart from the authorities occupied the street. In the eyes of Hardstaff, it very well seemed to be a protection detail of one's dreams. Every building on the block was secured one way or another and, with a few glances around, I could very well make out the suppressed barrels of reconning sniper rifles in neighboring high-rise structures.

It had only been a minute since first arriving on the scene when the doors of the restaurant opened gently, under the influence of a magenta aura gripping the handle, and out stepped the Princess of Friendship. Needless to say, it caught all of us off guard without a moment's notice of her actions through the comms channel, and we instinctively bowed in her presence.

Princess Twilight Sparkle stopped in front of us, clearing her throat softly to speak. "May I speak to the leader of your squadron?" she addressed, sporting a warm smile.

Hardstaff raised his head, approaching her from the left. "That would be me, Your Highness." He halted before her, throwing up a salute. "Sergeant Hardstaff, Lunar Marine Core."

"At ease, Sergeant." The purple alicorn waved her hoof, smiling sheepishly. "I'm sorry to bug you, but, if I might ask, where is Consul Buchard?"

"Your Highness, Consul Buchard has insisted on spending the evening at the embassy. Said he chooses to meet you in person only at the royal assembly," Hardstaff answered sternly. "I am sorry, those were his adamant requests that we wished to respect."

"Oh. All right, then." said Twilight, frowning, but then smiled. "Thank you, soldier."

"Marine," Hardstaff corrected with a single nod and, very faintly, returning the slightest of simpers. "You are more than welcome, Your Highness."

"And thank you for your service, all of you," she added, her purple irides breezing over each of us individually with a continuing and genuine smile. With that, the princess turned tail and vanished into the restaurant's doors, closing them in her wake.

A smile was with every ounce of effort in me prevented so as to avoid attracting the sergeant's attention. Having not previously met Princess Twilight or so much as been in the vicinity as her did this to me. She was not a popular princess. In fact, it seems anywhere beyond her home of Ponyville, as well as the royal capital of Canterlot, she goes without mention most of the time. Then again, that is likely because she is still a fairly new princess; only two years since her coronation have passed. I imagine with the passage of time, this is due to change significantly.

But, she is herself. She was still just a normal pony, a citizen of Equestria, you could see that in her temperament. Frankly put, it is a much needed relief to have a serving princess who takes time for her subjects—not that Celestia or Luna do not, although, the elder sister has been a sitting ruler of the land for centuries and wiser in terms of understanding what is best for her, and her ponies. She understands possibilities, taking them into high consideration before pulling public moves.

That is what feels refreshing and unique about Twilight. She just does when it comes to her followers, and I can respect that a lot. And even better yet, it is our responsibility for the evening that she remains in safe hooves.

37. Peaceful Measures - Part II

Posted in front of the United World of Countries building stood countless journalists, individually speaking toward television cameras of their respective news stations across Equestria. They were among hundreds, perhaps thousands gathered below the older, dome-topped central building, surrounded on the left and right by newer, rectangular high-rise offices constructed with a more modern architecture of steel, concrete, and glass. The complex, in all of its entirety, covered two whole city blocks, and is one of few strictly open areas of Manehattan Island.

The late morning sunshine cast rays down upon the metropolis through occasional breaks in lingering clouds left over from yesterday's storm, significantly warming the air to match the average for springtime, much less mid-summer. Little droplets of water still fell from skyscrapers here and there, as well as sudden, brief mists as gusts whipping along the ceiling of the city's famous skyline naturally blow-dried the buildings. Much of the ground had since dried, apart from some puddles here and there, with narrow streams running along the bottom of curbs and into storm drains every few yards of the streets.

Congregating ponies from every corner of the city—and country—lined steel barricades set up on both sides of a wide path for dignitaries and royalty to walk down on approach to the building entrance, pushing against them with a combination of soldiers from the Equestrian Army and Royal guards holding the line with their own strength to ensure nopony crosses.

Of course, there were fanatics, here only to see the princesses and could care less about what goes on inside, then peace advocates who are interested in the outcome of the discussions. And then there were protestors, most of which having come with homemade posters and signs, shouting in bright bold lettering to the Ajeri diplomats that they are not welcome in Equestria for all the country they represent has done in the past, among other profanity-laden messages.

Overall, the atmosphere was far from hospitable for a foal to be in. Every so often I'd spot a mare, a stallion, or both with their colts and fillies with bright smiles who are ecstatic to see the four princesses up close, and each time a sense of worry would pop up. Never in my life had I seen this much conflict between regular citizens, and it only woefully served a reminder of the true nature of politics. I hoped deep down that any result of the conference would spark a new age of peace between nations.

Unlike yesterday, we were assigned to basic security outside the UWC building. As a show of civility, a platoon from the Army would take the reins of the escort detail for today. To what I can imagine is Anchorage's disappointment, no Navy division had any sort of role other than watch around base and some parts of the city; particularly the bridges and, surprise, surprise, the waterways. For a change, they were doing the Coast Guard's job, and I bet ten bits it has my sailor friend—well, one of my sailor friends peeved.

Every which way where one might look, a variety of protection stood vigilant; from the ten or more snipers set up in the surrounding skyscrapers keeping close watch on the plaza, to trios of Canterlot guards positioned on small stationary clouds, overlooking the crowds below, most of which armed with crossbows or bolt action rifles of their own. For a traditional militaristic law enforcement, those types of guns were as advanced as regulations would allow apart from sidearms as I have seen some guards carry from time to time.

Off to my right, my ears picked up on a familiar whistle. Turning my attention in that general direction, I noted Hardstaff motioning his hoof for me to come over. Without so much as hesitating, I strode to the dark pegasus sergeant, an M16 hanging by a strap from his neck.

He must be up for promotion sometime soon, seeing just how fast I have made corporal since boot camp. My assumption was it is becoming awkward being, for the time being, the second highest-ranking Marine in the unit; one more promotion and I would technically hold the same amount of authority as Hardstaff, and Luna forbid I become platoon sergeant... not that I see that happening any time soon. It will be well over a year or more until I have any sort of glimpse of an opportunity to be promoted to sergeant.

Along the way, I passed a royal guard being briefly interviewed by one of the dozen reporters on site. So, they were live, and there's that. Perchance Ray might call later this evening and say he spotted me on television, that would make for an interesting conversation.

The reporter, an earth pony in a grey suit, white undershirt, and red tie held his wireless microphone to his lips as he began to speak.

"Now, tell me, Sergeant, what measures are in place to make sure every pony here is safe and sound? We have been out here since virtually the break of dawn, and it seems not everypony is content with our visitors. The prospect of somepony stirring trouble is taken into consideration, is it not?"

The guard blinked, bobbing his chin in a small nod. He answered in a rigid, poised tone. "Of course, and we take every threat to the public and our royalty gravely, no matter the scope. The Royal Guard has strict protocols established for each and every conceivable scenario, and tens more should any said scenario take place.

"As such, spells to deflect and disable any forms of magic surrounding the premises are being erected as we speak. Anywhere the princesses venture for diplomatic occasions, these spells are almost never go unused. With all four princesses present at today's address, the spell will be more powerful than ever, and Princess Twilight Sparkle has even volunteered to contribute her own magic to enhance our shields."

Nodding comprehensively, the reporter returned the microphone to himself. "Very interesting stuff. Thank you, Sergeant, for your time, and thank you for your service out here today and all other days. I'll get out of your hair," he said, turning to the camera and gesturing for the pony running it to cut the recording.

I marched up to the sergeant and instinctively went to salute. My hoof made it only a few inches off the concrete when he asserted, "At ease."

Blinking twice, stiffening my posture just slightly, I queried, "Sergeant? Was there something you wished to speak to me about?"

"Ya look off today," he remarked, then asked out of curiosity, "Something on your mind, Corporal?"

Was there? Not that I could think of right off the bat. "No, Sergeant," I shook my head. "Can't say there is anything nopony else out here is thinking."

"Get used to this. When the time comes where we ship off to settle scores for our home, ya best believe there'll be more of this on a far larger scale," he said with a mildly intimidating edge to his voice.

I curtly nodded. "Let us hope that time is not tomorrow, Sergeant."

He returned the nod, presumably in agreement, or acknowledgement of my opinion. I couldn't tell through the hardened expression he exhibited. "A lot could go wrong today, I just don't want to see you or anypony else under my watch goin' through compunction at the worst possible time."

For a second time, I nodded, this time in comprehension. "Yes, Sergeant. Two fights caught off my guard, I wouldn't let a third get in my way."

"I am well aware of your recent past, Shooter. Just note that shit can hit the fan at any moment, it takes a brave soul or two with stainless perception to be in the mindset of things when it does. You were trained to master that sense, you and your brothers. I won't hesitate to drag you through the mud again if I feel you need the refresher. Is that clear?"

I wanted to raise my eyebrow at that, yet didn't to avoid further debate on it. Something seemed off about him in that instance, and I couldn't put my hoof on it. He could have simply mentioning it as a matter of fact, or he is disappointed in me. I knew precisely what he meant, and my next instinct was to question for clarification, though it is never easy to tell with him sometimes. But, some things are best left unmentioned, especially to a superior's face. Even if he's just one rank over me. "Crystal, Sergeant."

"As you were, Corporal," he replied, then immediately turned and went his own way, likely to check on somepony else in the platoon. I stood there for a good couple of seconds while he strode off, relaxing my posture when I saw he wouldn't come around for a second round and returning to my post.

If there's one thing I have learned over the months, it is to never turn your back as soon as they dismiss you. To ponies like Hardstaff, it's a clear sign that you want to get out of their blast radius as soon as possible, and that is worthy of a lecture or two from one or more non-commissioned officers at a later time.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," said a voice to my left as I stood in position, his tone accented with a northern inflection. Looking over, my sights set upon a familiar greyish-white pegasus, approaching with a hanging M4 bouncing back and forth to his gentle movements.

A small grin pursed my lips, teasing, "You mean to tell me that sailors have a purpose other than watching waves and butt-fucking underway?"

The sailor narrowed his icy-blue irides into a scowl. "Enough of the gay jokes, will you, mate? I been doin' the same shit you glory seekers have! Not that any of you would seem to give a damn, nobody cares about us sea dogs."

"A bit melodramatic today, are we?" the grin on my muzzle shifted into a bigger smirk, masking the minor annoyance from losing a personal bet. "Nice to see they gave you something other than shore duty."

Anchorage nodded in total agreement. "About bloody time, aye? Whole division's out here. Caught Silver out of the corner of my eye a few times, too. It's a good change, I must say. Makes me feel like I have a bit more of a purpose."

"Well, it's a big thing we're talking here. It's all hooves, pretty much. Why else would they bring in army platoons, too?"

"Fair point. Hey, so, there's something I've been meaning to tell you the last couple of days. You think after we're done here we can talk?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "If it's quick, we can talk now."

He blinked quickly a couple of times, easing up his stance a little bit. "All right. So, you know how I said I'd find something for you? About the Alder?"

"Holy shit, I was joking when I said that," I said in an exasperated tone.

"Just..." The pegasus gently stomped his hoof. "Listen, will you? I went out to the docks, talked to a friend of mine about retrieving a cargo manifest for the ship."

I nodded slowly, having no other choice but to listen. "Yeah? And?"

"Well, I got somethin'. Sort of." Anchorage suddenly glanced around us, then lowered his volume just slightly. "Actually, I don't think this is the best place to discuss it."

Groaning softly, I rolled my eyes. "Fine, later then," I shifted a bit, muttering under my breath, "Pansy."

He caught that, but opted not to mention it outside of a brief look he flashed at me. There was a minute of silence between us as he continued to stand beside me, when he opened his mouth to speak again.

"You know, I—"

At the top of his lungs, an army lieutenant from further down addressed, strolling down the sidewalk to ensure his words reached all paying close attention. "Attention! The princesses will be arriving in five minutes! Everypony, to your designated stations!"

Wiping the grimace from my countenance and replacing it with a tightened, neutral look, I turned to Anchorage, saying between the two of us, "Here we go."

***

Right on queue, a trio of highly decorated and heavily armored carriages pulled up before the UWC. The noise of the crowd grew exponentially louder as ponies cheered and stomped for the princesses. A set of guards opened the doors on both sides of each carriage, and all four emerged simultaneously; Celestia and Luna from the front chariot, and Twilight from the second, and Cadence with her husband, Shining Armor, in the tailing one, all of which sporting suitable attire.

News cameras from the media stands focused solely on the center walkway as the royal members were escorted toward the building. Reporters rushed up to the barricades, pushing quickly through the crowds and held out their microphones. A symphony of shouting from them pervaded above the other ponies as hundreds knelt before the diarchs.

Princess Celestia stopped halfway between the two crowds to speak to one of the journalists requesting her personal word regarding the assembly. Despite the clamor coming from every direction, she managed to pick up the question quite clearly—probably through the use of a muffling spell.

Slightly behind her, Princess Luna took a moment to sign a t-shirt for a filly with a marker, as well as give her a small hug before advancing. Twilight and Cadence did similar a few times as they too made their way to the door situated up three sets of shallow steps, circa thirty yards from the street curb where they arrived, all of which with their respective guard details accompanying closely.

For ponies, it was an exciting moment. For us, it was tense and nerve-wracking. The guards, subtle in their acts, strove their greatest to usher the four alicorns inside as quickly as possible. It is recognized by now as a norm for the princesses to take a moment for their subjects, though that does not make it any less disconcerting for the rest of us devoted to their well-being.

After the princesses disappeared through those tall doors, the atmosphere outside settled only a little. That was four down, three to go, as the Ajeri diplomats were on their way and would arrive at any moment. Ahead of their approach, the three chariots were hauled away to make room. Off to my right, Hardstaff called, "Marines! On me!"

On his order, we fell in behind the sergeant and marched up the walkway. Of course, our passage was not nearly as well received as the princesses, though the cheers never truly diminished. As I turned over my shoulder, I noted Anchorage to be standing in replacement of my post along with a few other sailors and soldiers taking over for us.

This was all part of the routine; once Equestria's royalty arrives, we follow them in and stand guard throughout the building—particularly the main gathering hall, where some of the world's salient assemblies have taken place over the years. Today, it would be used specifically for this, between only the princesses, our generals and other high-ranking officials of the military, and the diplomats of Ajerstan. Hell, Shadow was present today, as well. In fact, he was an important key to the talks, being one of many witnesses on that blasted deployment.

At the sergeant's command, after a second pat-down through the security checkpoint just inside the building, I took up watch within the Citadel—the name given to the central call—beside the west door. It was one of two entrances into the Citadel, and furthest back in the room from the front of the building. Tall, paned windows, three inches thick for added defense against the most powerful of firearms, as well as them being reinforced by special enchantments according to what I have picked up from soldiers or guards walking by, discussing the properties of the two-century-old structure.

Even though they entered ahead of us, the princesses and prince had gathered in another room to talk in private. They would not step hoof in the Citadel until the Ajeri visitors arrive, and even then, it was still a half an hour before the summit is due to start; plenty of time for camera crews to set up and others among the audience to rally inside and take their seats.

My post overlooked dozens of wooden benches encompassing the open-circle table in the middle of the circular-shaped room. Tens of chairs represented by simple golden signs sitting on the finely-polished spruce surface sat neatly around the giant table with speaker-wired microphones propped up in front of each. Every spot was decorated with downsized flag replicas of every country they belonged to respectively. It would nowhere near be full in today's hearings, and exceptions were to be made for the sitting generals of Equestria's armed forces.

It seemed rather illogical to host the summit meeting in such a large, open space with a little turnout, and would conversely be more suitable to do so in a closer space. However, considering the circumstances, as well as the accommodations for the media on the opposite wall of mine, it would have to do for the time being.

It had to be in Manehattan anyways, for Canterlot's geography prevents the Ajerstanians from directly flying in; they would have to be brought in via rail or airship, which is a considerable loss of valuable time, as well as a waste of resources and money for their protection detail.

Journalists began to file in and took their seats in the nosebleed section, while their camera ponies set up shop, propping up their cameras on tripods atop a small stage that would directly face the princesses' seats. A second group on the opposite end followed suit with cameras that would face the Ajeri emissaries to get both direct angles for their respective media outlets to broadcast nation-wide.

After long, more representatives of Equestria as well as some ambassadors originating from other pony nations who have made Manehattan their home filled up some of the lower seats to observe and take notes to report back to their countries.

All of it was politics with consequences every which way, and whether other members of allied states are present or not, what goes down here this afternoon will spread in the news one way or another.

38. Peaceful Measures - Part III

My stomach curdled, gut twisting into dozens of endless knots. Anxiety was building in my chest beneath a crushing weight that refused to suppress. I knew at some point today my mind would try to get the best of me, in a room of hundreds, being broadcasted live to millions around the world who had cable or basic antenna access. With steady, quiet breaths, I managed to quell the unease enough to retain a formal appearance. The last thing I wanted was to fall victim to a panic attack under pressing matters, so my temporary solution would have to suffice.

Within ten minutes of the start of the conference, Admiral Gantry, as well as Ambassador Suldur and Consul Buchard arrived simultaneously and right on queue. Accompanied by one Ajeri soldier each, the three were escorted into the building, as were other ponies to have arrived on the same plane that were due to sit among the immediate audience.

By now, much of the enormous room had filled with representatives, diplomats, luminaries, exemplars, all of which watched over by a mass presence of Marines, soldiers, Royal guards, and Manehattan Police. Members of all—including myself—stood sentinel, each separated three yards apart per.

A couple of the gold-clad stallions proved to be familiar from the train some days prior, much to my surprise. I would have expected there to be so many present that I'd not see the same ponies twice. Guess I was wrong.

Salutes were thrown up the second every main door reopened, and in strode the Commandant of the Marines, the Admiral of the Navy, as well as the top-ranking general of the Army and Air Force, respectively, dressed proudly in their individual branch's uniform. All sat down in the front row of the seating section with their backs to the window.

After them entered other high-ranking officials—particularly members of the Navy—including, but not limited to, Captain Shadow, and the Lunar Fleet admiral. From the corner of my eye, I watched him make his way to the front, engaging in a brief conversation with his fellow sailors of similar or higher rank than him.

At first, it seemed as though the captain hadn't taken immediate notice of my presence upon entry; not that I would consider that a bad thing. Even though we were still technically acquaintances outside of the military, and for how much I enjoyed his company now and again, this instance I almost preferred to be left alone to my duties in fear of losing myself during conversation—especially with so many superiors present. I couldn't afford to let my guard down, not even for a brief moment.

But when I blinked, he had moved. Once lingering near fellow captains and the fleet admiral, he now stood right in front of me. "Good morning, Corporal."

Shit. "Good afternoon, sir." Damn it. If my anxiety wasn't apparent before, it surely was now.

The greenish-grey stallion seemed to disregard; that, or he simply pretended not to notice as he respectfully uncovered. "How's the day treating you?" he queried.

So it was small talk he was shooting for, with accordance to his peers some twenty feet behind him. With that, I determined to keep my responses short and simple. Maybe he was looking for a crack in my foundation. "As good as I could hope for, sir."

Shadow replied with a single nod of his head. "Likewise," he rejoined, lifting his hoof and leaning more on his other three. "It's a new day for us all. Here I can hope their admiral will be reasonable in his justifications, though I don't know what it is I should expect from him."

Without breaking posture entirely, I shifted my gaze a hair to meet his mocha-brown irides. "What is your gut telling you?"

He scanned left to right briefly, lowering his volume to a whisper between us. "He can't be trusted. That he will find a way to convince his side that we were in the wrong here. But I won't let him lie to the princesses like that."

"Then don't. Tell the truth, tell your side of the story. Remember, you have witnesses that you refer to and tell their word." It felt awkwardly strange being the one giving advice here. "Just do so orderly and civilized. If he gets pissed off at all, the deal's off with it more than likely. Your word counts in this debate. Keep it up and they'll have you at rear admiral in no time."

"Perhaps. I've been a captain for four years with nothing in that time to advance me. I won't let it go to my head, but if I'm still here this time next year, I'll be gone," he said, finishing with a thin edge to his tone. "Whether or not that comes to pass, I shall not live to see the day some overly-territorial and dictator-like fleet commander tread on me however he pleases."

Just then, the tone of an electronic bell rang throughout the court, signalling the start of the meeting in just a couple of minutes. Shadow glanced down at me neutrally, saying, "That is the future calling. As you were, Marine."

I gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Do our country proud, Captain."

He blinked a couple of times, setting his hoof down. One corner of his mouth took a very faint curve upwards, and he carefully placed his cap back on his crown. "Thank you, Corporal, I will do just that."

***

A beige-coated unicorn sailor, dressed neatly beneath the black protective vest, stood his ground at the corner of the northeastern intersection as more ponies flooded steadily into the already-overflowing crowds outside the UWC Building. His hoof rested gently along the side of his rifle that hung over his chest, knob flicked to safety as instructed around tens of hundreds of civilians.

Dark magenta irides scanned over his surroundings, studying each pony to pass him with care, on the lookout for suspicious activity, as were dozens of his fellow sailors, as well as Marines, soldiers, and Royal guards. It was his first major assignment in the Navy, and also the first of its kind since initially mistaking for the Marines thirteen months prior.

With everything running as smoothly as all seemed to be, the notion of wrong occurring pushed far from his steadfast reverie. Alas, should the opposite take place, he memorized the procedures seared into his brain through a three-hour briefing lecture the day prior. Once or twice, he would eyeball a random stallion or mare dressed in any sort of heavy clothing—the ideal place to secrete harmful devices should the wearer possess such horrendous intents. Under the present circumstances, with all four princesses and a prince in town, countless high-ranking military officials, as well as abysmally-received dignitaries from overseas, threat levels were through the roof.

Risk in mind, along with the countless possibilities that accompanied it, the unicorn managed well when it came to concealing his own angst. While his efforts were less effective against his comrades, the face he put on created a sense of security for anypony equally nervous who merely caught a glimpse of his countenance. He hoped to keep it that way, as the incorrect facial expression or body posture could spark worry—not that he expected himself to be capable of exhibiting as such in front of thousands. To him, that just seemed silly, especially if there was nothing to worry about.

The sailor took a moment to yawn. It had been a long day already, having awoken at just 0530 that morning and clocked himself in for his duties at 0600. The time was closing rapidly on noon, the set time for the start of the discussions within the giant complex his rear faced. A pair of large digital screens were set up on steel supports on the far sides of either crowd, linked to one of the cameras inside and wired to powerful speakers for all outside to hear as if they were in the same room.

As he stood sentinel, his observant sights scrutinizing his environment, he suddenly stopped, honing in on a trio of stallions, all of which appearing to be earth ponies from his standpoint, and each wearing a type of thick hooded jacket, but did not have the hoods covering their head. Two of which carefully hauled a long, black briefcase by either end while the third observed, then climbed up into the open rear of a fully-enclosed, unlabeled grey carriage, sitting neatly parked with maybe two inches of clearance in a narrow alleyway between a Japonese takeout restaurant and a thirty-story office tower.

The third pony carried out a smaller briefcase, not unlike the first, then lifted the ramp hatch to close it up and followed the two around the corner and into the doors of the high-rise. Blinking to make sure he wasn't seeing things, the horn of the beige pony lit up in dark crimson, activating the earpiece he wore. Softly spoken to avoid attracting unwanted attention, he uttered. "Anchor, did you see that?"

Some fifteen feet away, a greyish-white pegasus glanced over his shoulder at the unicorn, narrowing his eyes on him. "I'm right here, Silver, you can just walk up to me," he retorted.

"Did you see those ponies go in that building? Or at least that carriage in the alleyway?"

The pegasus sailor blinked twice, shifting his attention forward and to the narrow space, immediately spotting the unfamiliar carriage. "Huh. When did that get here?"

"I'm not sure, but that is not one of ours. Three earth ponies, all wearing dark grey hooded jackets. Two were carrying a long sort of briefcase, like the one you put an instrument in. Third was holding a smaller briefcase, both black, and they went into that office," stated Silver, continuing to carefully watch the building's entrance for more activity.

There was a brief silence in the communications channel as both sailors had their undivided attention directed at either the carriage or the tower the ponies had entered. After only a minute, two of the three emerged and returned to the wagon, unloading what seemed to be regular cardboard boxes now.

After watching them, then briefly turning to the building in question, Anchorage turned to his companion some fifteen feet to his left and went, "They're movers. Building's got a big for sale sign in the lobby window."

Grunting, the unicorn returned, "Anchorage, we've got sniper watch in that tower. It's not open to civilians whatsoever."

"I think you're being a bit paranoid, Silver. A lack of sleep will do that to ya. Go get a coffee from the market, aye mate?"

Silver clenched his teeth, his soul burning with fury at his comrade's neglect. He glanced up the massive building to one of the windows removed near the top, spotting the tip of a sniper rifle barrel sticking out, where one of the protective detail marksponies had been sitting for hours, looking over the area.

When his thoughts completed, the dormant Marine lingering in his soul became prevalent when he announced firmly to Anchorage, "I'm going in. Movers or not, they shouldn't be here."

"Silver, do—"

The pegasus' attempt at a stern warning was abruptly silenced by the disconnection of Silver's earpiece from the communications channel. Not taking a moment to further contemplate his actions, and with a heavy determination in his step, he advanced across the street to do, as he admitted to himself along the way, the stupidest thing he has done thus far, and that is to investigate. Alone.

***

Always the introductions first and foremost. As part of procedure, each and every pony took a few minutes to grow acclimated with one another. Admiral Gantry introduced himself to the four commanding officers, while Shadow maintained distance. He really was adamant about not wanting to be any part of him, and instead stood with Princess Luna as Ambassador Suldur shook hooves with her and Twilight. When all was said and done, everypony then went to sit down.

The four ruling princesses sat side by side at their respective seats; Celestia in center, sided on her left by Princess Cadence, and on her right by Princess Luna, with Princess Twilight Sparkle on Luna's right. To the left of Cadence sat Prince Shining Armor, dressed finely in the very red and white dress uniform worn to his wedding three years ago. Three of the alicorns donned their normal attire, with only Twilight having the exception of displaying her crown and neck brace like her peers, but with the six-pointed purple star in dead center, representing her cutie mark.

To Shining Armor's immediate left were the four sitting commanders of Equestria's branches, as well as Captain Shadow seated next to the Lunar Fleet Admiral. Directly across from the princesses were the Ajeri diplomats. Admiral Gantry sat closest to Shadow, only separated by two chairs, Ambassador Suldur in center of the three, with Consul Buchard on his left. Every pony present was supplied with topped-off glasses of water; a bare necessity for the amount of speaking ahead of them all.

After a quick check of every microphone, every speaker in the Citadel, and every camera pointed at the central table, it was time to begin at long last. Little red lights flashed consistently on the cameras above the lenses, signifying them to be on air.

Gently tapping her hoof on the speaker for a self-check, the alabaster alicorn in center leaned forward, crossing her hooves on the wooden surface. "Let us get straight to the point, shall we?" she addressed, answered by a multitude of concurring nods around her.

"We have gathered here this fine Wednesday afternoon for a list of reasons, with all of whom present, I pray, bearing one common goal in mind for this session, and that is the unification of Equestria with the State of Ajerstan and, hopefully, the signage of an unbreakable treaty of harmony between our fine nations."

One particular pair of eyes rolled at that statement, and they were those of Consul Buchard. The action went unnoticed by all apart from the purple alicorn of friendship, who narrowed her sights on the brass unicorn, but went no further to mention. First him declining her offer to talk over dinner, and now, a much more discernible attitude that he was utterly uninterested about what Celestia or Luna might have to say. It seemed as though, to her, that peace was the furthest thing from his judgement.

"Admiral Gantry," began Princess Luna, fixing her rather stunning water-blue gaze on the pear-green naval officer, and also grabbing his undivided attention. "The reason I call upon thee first is for one crucial question that we collectively ask of thou."

The admiral nodded firmly in acknowledgement. "Proceed, Your Highness."

"Do thee recall precisely the at-sea incidents of June 15th, and June 29th of this year?" queried the princess of the night.

A silence, brief at that, resounded in the room, followed by the faint shuffling of the unicorn's clothing as he shifted into a comfortable upright sitting position. "Da, Princessa," he responded in a show of his native language. "I very clearly remember my navy's first encounter with your country's. I do specifically recall being told off by a distinct Lunar Navy captain, whom is among us today," he commented, flashing a thin scowl in Shadow's direction, garnering the greenish-grey stallion glances from a few others.

"What was your communication exchange, Admiral, if I may ask out of pure curiosity?" questioned Princess Celestia, blinking slowly mid-sentence with neutrality expressed in her tone and on her mien.

The commanding officer in question honed in on the foreign unicorn, eager to hear what he had to say, expecting a blatant lie more than anything.

"He threatened engagement after mishap aboard my submarine, which caused it to surface beneath his Eclipse. I tried to reason with him, after asking what he and the ships under his command were doing operating within our vicinity. He came back with further threats, and for the sake of my crew, we pulled back from area."

Eyebrows raised on Luna and Celestia, their steady gazes sliding gently onto the Lunar Navy captain who retained a stoic posture against the tables temporarily turning against him. But he had tricks up his sleeve, and I knew that. The look on his face, the fury in his eyes from a distance showed it and the burning hate for his present opponent, withheld solely by the strengthened composure of a sailor.

***

Upon entry of the high-rise office, and the frustrating discovery that none of the elevators were operational, Silver worked his way up to the twentieth floor of the tower through the forever-winding staircase that continued up approximately twelve more stories beyond that.

He quietly sneaked through the door leading into one of the main halls of the empty office, stopping to study the area. On his left were rows of small privacy rooms with frosted glass surrounding the doors, likely for corporate executive ranks to have rooms to themselves. A large open floor of thin navy carpet was the most prominent detail, stretching back to many rows of floor-to-ceiling windows two inches apart each on the building's reverse face, with recently-installed shudder blinds rolled up all of the way, hanging from the upper frame, and the place scented of a fresh coating of paint that grew stronger the closer he walked to a wall.

This, he best recalled, was the level where one or two of the troops from the Sniper Corps—the designated and fairly new markspony division of the Royal Guard—took up position. Silver began his search by scouring every room on his left, doing so by opening each door briefly and closing to avoid arousing suspicion. He came across the fourth suite, where one of the two windows had been carefully removed and placed off to the side, and caught his cover with a hoof as a gust of wind sent it flying from his crown.

The room itself overlooked the United World of Countries complex with an impeccable view of the thousands mustered below, and a rather frightening view of the Citadel's glass wall that, had this tower not been assumed temporary control over, would be the perfect shot for an assassination attempt, he pondered.

However, it was not until Silver entered when he realized something was off. He walked in slowly, kicking the rubber leg to prevent the door from slamming shut by the force of the wind. The long-barreled rifle belonging to the overwatch unit sat there, propped up on a tripod mount; its operator, on the other hand, was missing, as was their support assuming one accompanied them.

He halted after a few more steps, coming up short of the rifle stock. Bewilderment permeated his acuity as new thoughts processed. His eyes moved around the room, searching for any sort of clue to answer the persisting debate boggling his mind.

Silver lit up his horn that powered the small device sitting comfortably in his ear, parting his maw to speak, but ultimately stopped before the words could escape his mouth when came a roughened voice from behind. "Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in here?"

***

"It was at approximately 1425 on June the 29th when the engagement order was sent out by Central Command via morse code. We were instructed to immediately strike upon mainland Ajerstan and its capitol. I heard the message with my own two ears, as did my communications officer who translated it himself. The rest of the fleet picked up on it as well and informed me before COMMO had the chance to decipher. I questioned the validity of the order and, I can assure you, it was not my judgement to launch intercontinental ballistic missiles at Volgrad," calmly explained Shadow, all eyes turned toward him. Many in the audience, specifically the press, jotted down notes as fast as they could.

He then paused, turning his head to peer at the green uniformed stallion. There was a nod given, but not returned. Shadow continued, "I believe I speak on behalf of the both of us when I say, I believe our VHF was hacked; manipulated to start a war between our countries.

"Captain, our ships are the most advanced naval vessels in the world. The New Lunar Republic leads in military technology as compared to any other nation on the planet," Luna commented, straightening her spine, her statement receiving an agreeing nod from her elder sister. "It is next to impossible to hack into our navy's radio systems. Special enchantments infused with the tech during construction of the ships prevent it."

Shadow took a small sip of water to ease an indistinct burn in his throat from speaking for a lengthy period of time. "All respect due, Your Highness, the computer systems and machinery aboard my Eclipse, as well as the Lacus and Gibbous are severely outdated to today's standards. I can confirm this after the catastrophic failure of the ship's reactor and the coolant leak it suffered from.

"My radarpony on duty at the time also reported glitches with his radar and sonar monitors, which returned unreliable data regarding the tracking of nearby vessels. Frankly, we could have sailed right through an old minefield dating back to the Synno Wars and not have any clue until we go up in a ball of flames."

Right after he finished, Gantry cut in. "Captain, are you blaming Ajerstan for the assault on your ship's hardware? And questioning the integrity of our great fleet?"

Shadow flashed a look of daggers at the Ajeri admiral, mentally noting once more the absurd amount of pride Gantry held close to his heart, then shook his head. "Not at all, Admiral. If you claim to have heard a similar message, my assumption is it was somepony else, someone on board either of our ships at the time or someone on them that is working for an anonymous figure."

"Admiral Gantry," started Twilight. "If I might ask out of pure curiosity, were you accompanied by... anypony unusual? Perhaps somepony not a member of your military whom you were aware of their presence on board one of your vessels?"

That raised an eyebrow from the pear-green unicorn, and garnered the purple alicorn a shake of his head. "Nay, Princessa. We do not allow civilians on our ships. We perform bi-daily searches for stowaways. There are not many places for one to hide... for long."

"Have you ever had such incidents in the past with unauthorized ponies on board?"

"Twice, yes, and both stowaways were dealt with accordingly," Gantry responded, finishing with a grim edge to his tone that grazed the surface of Twilight's essence. A sneering glower tossed at Shadow further built upon Gantry's conceited manner to blow off his earlier statement. "Rest assured, if any soul accompanies my navy who strictly does not belong, namely one who is bent on creating unnecessary conflict, I would be the first to know."

After a moment's pause, he sat closer to the microphone. "We as a country may have unfinished business with Equestria, but what occurred last month was not under our own accord. I can see many thousands of hooves pointing at us three because of our shadowed past."

"Admiral, I must stand beside Captain Shadow here," interrupted Suldur, catching the assembly off-guard, especially Shadow. "He has openly stated that no one in particular is to blame and is simply prodding the notion that either Equestria or Ajerstan have spies among us.

"If history has taught us anything valuable in remark, it is that Equestria would never pick a fight, no matter how big or small the other player may be. Equestria has fought in its own wars, both domestic and international, yes, however... I find the possibility of a deliberate action on their behalf highly improbable."

The ambassador's defense brought smiles to the faces of the four princesses simultaneously. At one glance, Celestia gave a gentle nod of approval to the greyscale stallion.

"Ambassador, whose side are you on here?" Gantry commented, looking over.

Suldur turned to look right back. "The right side," he affirmed.

***

"Oh, shit," went Silver's conscience. He utterly froze in place, eyes widening in surprise, not daring to even glance over the back of his shoulder. Tingling suspicion of his perception suggested there was a gun pointed at him.

Steadily shifting his gaze down to the glass slab propped up against the wall, he noted the faint reflections of two earth ponies all too similar to the ones he had spotted earlier at the entrance; one armed with an unmodified M16, his partner equipping an M1911, both primed and ready to fire if he made any sort of move.

"Your gun. Drop it," commanded the larger earth stallion of the duo. Subconsciously, the beige unicorn enveloped the rifle hanging around his neck and carefully lifted it.

"With your hooves, asshole!" shouted the rifle pony, startling Silver out of concentration, taking an intimidating step closer.

As ordered, Silver restarted, this time with one hoof to steadily raise the weapon and its strap up over his head, holding it high for the two to see.

"Drop it!" barked the larger stallion. The gun immediately dropped from his clutch, clattering against the thinly-carpeted floor.

In that instance, Silver began carefully contemplating an escape. With the gun at his hooves, he could simply whip around and use his magic to fire upon the perpetrators, but doing so would not be quick enough before he himself would be shot if their reflexes were as quick as he anticipated them to be. The slightest of activity with his horn would be noticed one way or another. There was no way for him to mask the glow easily. Gauging by the ponies' demeanor, neither would be apprehensive in putting him down right there. The rifle wielded was no joke, and he recognized even the most untrained of ponies could still hit their mark at this proximity.

Radioing for help would do him no justice either. One word out of his mouth and he would go down with a bullet—or many—in the back of his head. Besides, if they were coordinated enough to smuggle weapons this closely to the most important ponies in Equestria, they could have just as easily tapped into the universal comm frequency that everypony was using. For all he knew, they probably heard him coming from across the street, and his conversation with Anchorage.

There were two shots, either less than a second apart. Reflexes compelled Silver to jump and silently gasp. He expected pain, but none was felt. Behind him emanated two groans, and a simultaneous pair of weighted thuds that prompted him to turn around. Both ponies once holding him at gunpoint now lay on the floor in adjoining puddles of blood, pooling also around the M16 that was aimed at him moments ago. Immediately, Silver dashed his gaze up to the door and snatched up his gun instinctively, but failing to switch it off of safety as a white figure emerged from around the corner.

Rounding the corner, his savior lurched when he saw the barrel aimed at him "Yo, hey! Put that gun down, sailor!" ordered the greyish-white pegasus, standing over the bodies with a lowered rifle in one hoof and the other held up in a halt gesture, his ice-blue cores coldly glaring toward the magenta of the unicorn's.

Silver Edge immediately lowered his gun, huffing out deeply. He drew in heavy breaths and placed a hoof over the body armor on his chest. "Thank fuck," he muttered through a breath. "How the hell did you find me?"

"I followed you in, ya dolt. Heard the bastards talking in the background when ya reopened your mic," answered Anchorage, hovering over the motionless bodies and landing before his friend. "You good? Did they hurt you anywhere?"

Still shaking all over from the ordeal, Silver nodded in response. "N-no. No, I'm fine. I wouldn't have been had you not showed up. Thank you."

Anchorage acknowledged with a single nod back. "I was wrong to doubt you like that, but at least they're taken care of." Then, he roughly delivered a smack on Silver's cheek, hard enough to shove his head sideways. "That's for the stupid fuckin' move of not only abandoning your post, but going without somepony to back you up, shipwreck!"

Embarrassed and rubbing his cheek momentarily as it burned with pain, Silver drooped his head and ears. He replied, straightforwardly, "I'm sorry."

Sighing in mild frustration, the pegasus turned sideways, raising his hoof off the floor while still eyeballing the younger, lower-ranking stallion. "Well, now ain't the right time to sulk. We'll talk about it later, aye?"

Before either of them could do anything else, a pair of white-coated pegasus royal guards rushed down the corridor and came to a stop at the door where the two corpses sat. They wore stoically furious looks on their faces and drew their own sidearms, aiming at both of the sailors.

"Drop your weapons, now!" one sentry snarled authoritatively, taking momentary note of the bodies on the floor.

"Hey, dumbasses, same side!" Anchorage retorted, turning to face both directly. Despite this, neither of which retracted their guns, much to his surprise and dismay. "Are you two brain dead? We're Lunar Navy, these ponies tried to kill my shipmate!"

Split-secondly, Silver Edge glanced down at the armor pieces worn by either stallion. No part of them possessed the usual glimmer of gold-painted steel, not even a mere reflection of the sunlight shining against them. The armor was fake. He leaped in front of Anchorage, lighting up his horn in a dark crimson hue and suddenly taking either pegasus by the head and forcefully smashing them together, in turn knocking both out cold.

Blinking with widened eyes, bubbling with a sudden anger toward his comrade and his uncalled-for actions, Anchorage snapped at Silver. "What the fuck are you doing?!—"

The beige unicorn sailor swiftly turned to the petty officer, ripping up the chest plate from one of the subdued sentries. "They're fakes, look at their armor!"

Anchorage glanced down at both, met with immediate sense of shock as he realized a grey bulletproof vest underneath revealed itself from a sort of invisibility cloak, and what was disguised to look like the armor of Celestia's Royal Guard, was instead a soft plastic, similar to that of a foal's costume available at a Nightmare Night store.

Dumbfounded, he spoke his exact thoughts lowly. "What the hell is this—"

A storm of bullets tore through the walls, one catching the glass and shattering it in an explosion of shards that rained upon both stallions. That very second, Silver and Anchorage dropped flat to the carpet as shots whisked over their heads. The shots paused briefly, replaced by shouting from the far right side of the corridor, coming from the fire escape stairwell.

With the adrenaline now pumping in his veins, Silver jumped to all fours and snatched Anchorage up, dashing for the door and into the hall with the pegasus tailing close behind.

In the quickness of the moment as they ran, Anchorage took the opportunity as soon as he dove around a corner and re-cocked his gun, then addressed onto the open waves. "We've got armed hostiles on the twentieth floor, requesting backup immediately! We're about to be pinned up here!"

***

A soft pair of magenta cores shifted toward the brass-coated diplomat on the far opposite side of the table, nonchalantly blinking twice as they set upon him. "Consul, bar my intrusion, but you are most noticeably quiet in regards to these affairs. Do know that every pony's word is considered at this table. Is there something you wish to say before the royal assembly?"

Lapis irides of the hushed unicorn flicked upward, pointed indirectly at the alabaster alicorn facing him back. His attention had most certainly been grabbed by her mention, though his ruminations were not distant from the subject. "Princess, there is much I seek to reflect. Much best not declared before such a wide audience—or is it?"

There was a pause as some eyes widened, and virtually every pony in the room leaned in to hear what would come next. Of those at the table, Twilight was most enthralled ahead of Luna. Princess Cadence sat expressing neutrally for the most part, with Celestia, out of the four, staring scornfully at Buchard in silence. Evident signs of regret showed on her mien in advance of what she knew he was about to say.

"For what acts Equestria has carried out in the recent past, disregarding the little... scuffle... at sea," began the consul with a pronounced acidity to his tone. He placed his hooves together, elbows propping them up. "It merely serves as a strong reminder of how powerful we still are, sanctions more or less.

"It is in the nation I represents' best interest that I mention simply how long Equestria has decreed Ajerstan a nation 'unworthy of development', and an overall 'risk to the betterment of world peace' for simply expanding our interest in defending ourselves against outside attacks. If you ask me, what we did in an act of defense against your trigger-happy navy was completely and utterly justified in the name of Ajerstan."

Now he was throwing the admiral in the stampede and completely disputing all he had previously said, and this had the unicorn naval officer glaring his way, as well.

"Consul, I am not sure what your sources are, but I believe it is safe to say, on behalf of all present, that you are, in fact, misinformed," chimed Suldur, motioning his hooves gently.

"Oh, please, Ambassador!" the brass unicorn raised his voice above Suldur's, rolling his eyes toward him. "You saw the press release, the one they put out specifically for us to read before they cut off all trade!"

Twilight blinked a couple of times, puzzled. "What press release was this?"

The consul's gaze snapped toward the young princess, a shadow faintly casting over his eyes. "The one you—"

At that moment, everypony in the room jumped with surprise. The attention of hundreds of ponies turned to the window as two loud, yet slightly muffled pops of what sounded to be gunshots in frighteningly close proximity to the UWC erupted outside. The room went quiet, and those in the audience turned to each other, wondering what was going on.

Not thirty seconds later, one of Celestia's guards trotted up to her side. She leaned down, and he muttered into her ear to inform of something. She returned a nod of acknowledgement and sat upright, looking over everypony present. "There has been a report of gunfire nearby, and we will be posting the meeting on hold indefinitely, until security sweeps can confirm the area to be safe—"

Before she could finish, more shots erupted outside, startling everypony once more. This time, it was of an automatic weapon as it was continuous for roughly three seconds. Inaudible chatter started as a sense of fear gripped those in the audience.

In the midst of the newfound discord, over comms called what sounded to be Anchorage's voice addressing into my ear. "We've got armed hostiles on the twentieth floor, need backup immediately! We're about to be pinned up here!"

Only a moment after him, a second, breathless voice. Silver's. "Be advised, hostiles are disguised as guards in the crowd! Fake armor concealing bulletproof vests! They're here to kill everypony!"

In that very instance, my gaze darted around, mentally noting every gold-armored stallion present. The crystal guards weren't a threat in my mind, unless they were in on it, too. A couple other Marines in the same room immediately looked at me, as well as some soldiers on the far side. Evidently the message went out to everypony; and that was a bad thing.

But before I had a chance to make any sort of move, I glanced to the left, toward a particular officer on the far end of the room. He held a hoof to his earpiece, picking up on a message on a completely separate channel to mine, then his eyes shot wide open, darting to the roof of a nearby building, where a bright, unusual glare emanated. Shouting in vain, he cried, "Sniper on the rooftop! Get down!"

Instantaneously, ponies all across the room dropped to the floor. Shining Armor tackled his spouse to the floor and swiftly conjured a shield of bright pink that enveloped him and Princess Celestia. Twilight did just about the same, wrapping herself and Luna with her own protective bubble. The four commanding officers, including Shadow, dove to the floor, hidden in the window's line of sight by the desk, and Admiral Gantry lunged left, tackling Suldur off of his chair.

A single, eardrum-bursting shot rang out across the city block. The soundproofing of the building did nothing against the noise, as if the gun had been shot right beside everypony's ear at once, and like glass as it breaks, the invisible rune guarding the Citadel fell apart and dispersed into thin air, shattered by the bullet as it pierced effortlessly through and into one of the many large windows in the room. Screams erupted everywhere, and right before my eyes, a shower of blood exploded around the three Ajeri ponies. An agonizing, pained cry bellowed from the brass unicorn, and with a heavy thump of flesh striking a solid surface, the consul's form slumped over and landed flat.

Sharp glass projectiles launched inward, forced by the bullet that sliced through the pane like butter. Like dominoes, cracked pieces rained down upon the floor below, fully exposing the room to the outside. A symphony of screaming and crying outside filled the air as hundreds scattered every which way, rapidly inundating the tens of guards, soldiers, and Marines attempting to evacuate the area in an orderly fashion.

In a mere ten seconds, we sprang into action to protect those in harm's way. I took my gun off of safety and, after running up to and leaning against a bench, positioned myself at an angle to return fire. Soon, multiple rapid bursts of fire—distant and close by—permeated the atmosphere. The sun glare of what I now realized to be a sniper rifle scope flickered gently, but didn't vanish into cover. Evidently this pony was more confident that neither of us would be capable of hitting the nail on the head, which soon caused me to retract.

I shoved my anxiety far off to the side. It was the real deal; now came the time to sharpen my focus on the predetermined plan, and that was solely to protect every endangered innocent in that room. Dropping behind cover as another massive pop rang out, I snapped my gaze over to one of the guards, catching him just in time as he drew a pistol and blasted an army corporal in the back of the head. Another whipped out a rifle not too dissimilar from an M4 from seemingly thin air and began unloading on those focusing on the sniper. Three ponies went down instantly. Four. Six.

Before my comrades could even acknowledge the hidden enemy, I jumped up from hiding, weapon drawn, failing to hesitate pulling the trigger and watching the pistol-wielding fake drop after a burst of three. Muffled by the gunshots, a new wave of screaming exploded when the first went down, and I ducked when the perpetrator with the M4-like rifle turned his attention my way.

Bullet holes riddled the white marble walls, chinking off thin layers of the expensive decorative stone that crumbled as they landed on the floor. In the few seconds between the first assailant going down and me hiding, more "guards" piled into the room in tens. There were far too many, and they were determined to take scores.

By now, every uninjured soldier, Marine, and actual Royal guard once shooting at the sniper vanished from sight, individually coordinating a defense. Even Shadow had whipped out his own concealed sidearm and was putting in the work to hold off the terrorists in a highly respectable manner.

Static burst in my ear from all of the ponies trying to use the comms channel at once, between the gunfight occurring in the nearby office where Anchorage and Silver Edge were, and the battle going down in the Citadel. It ruined my concentration to the point where I ripped the piece from my ear and tossed it away. This created enough of a distraction where a few of the attackers, thinking it was a grenade, dove out of the way, albeit into my line of sight.

With more short bursts, I managed to eliminate just a few more before my magazine ran empty. "Fuck!" I mumbled, digging into my vest pocket and producing a second clip and quickly inserting it. There was only so much ammo able to be carried without backpacks, and our body armor equipped limited pockets large enough to stuff spare magazines in; not that anypony expected to truly need all of them. I certainly didn't.

A few yards to my left, behind the vacant side of the meeting table and most certainly in the sniper's field of view, Hardstaff shouted at the top of his lungs to the masses of terrified civilians and important figures. "Keep your heads down, and don't move!" ordering to the frightened mass in the room. He propped himself up with enough cover to rest his hooves on the table, shooting in single bursts at the hiding spots of the attackers and managing to catch one in their side, where he then finished them off with another shot to the neck when they fell into the open.

After a brief glance up to scan the surroundings, noting of at least one insurgent's position on the far side of the room, I turned quickly as a draft earth pony Marine slid up in the row behind mine for cover. To see another friendly face came off as a heavy relief since we needed all the help we could get down here, but now was no time to take a breath.

"Hallway clear!" went Nightpath, coherent just barely above all of the fire occurring and bullets whisking over our heads.

I nodded in acknowledgement, shifting my attention then to the Ajerstanian ponies below the table. It sent a chill running up my spine the moment my sights set upon a brass unicorn covered gut wrenchingly covered in his own sanguine ichor, tended to by a greyscale earth stallion trying to curb the amount of lifeblood spilling from his festering wound.

"Consul is down!" yelled an Ajeri soldier, hurrying to the consul's side, positioning himself properly to take another shot if he had to.

A quaking Suldur loomed over a bleeding Buchard, gasping and choking on oxygen in a state of total shock. The pain in his side was so intense that he went fully numb to it and everything else. He was quickly dying, and if nothing could be done to suppress the bleeding, these next few minutes would most certainly be his last.

It was then that my mindset swiftly changed. We needed to devise a plan to get the princesses, our guests, the wounded, and everypony else out of here, or we would be dealing with hundreds of fatalities at once. It wasn't just up to me, although, in that instance, I felt the exact opposite.

***

Multiple thumps of hooves muffled by the carpet below them carried through the vacant twentieth story, as did commanding barks. "Keep searching, god damn it! They're around here somewhere!"

Silver Edge and Anchorage huddled up to a half-wall between a walkway and an empty cubicle space, each with one hoof steady near the trigger and the other maintaining a firm hold on their rifles' grips. They sat motionless and silent as mice, waiting for the prime moment to ambush the squadron searching for them.

The greyish-white pegasus of the duo turned to his unicorn companion and motioned his hooves in multiple rapid gestures as one sentry slowly approached. Stumped, the beige stallion shook his head as his mind dotted with question marks. Anchorage rolled his eyes and returned to position, ears stood attentively and honing in on the set of hooves stepping in their direction.

The forehoof of the guard planted itself down in front of both sailors while he scanned off to the left. "Sector is clear, sir," he spoke into his headset, monotone.

When the static feedback of his transmission ending came, Anchorage leaped up from their hiding spot and swiftly smashed the butt of his gun into the pony's temple, stunning and knocking him to the floor. He was caught by surprise upon realizing there to be another sentry directly in tail and shot once before he could make a move, then delivered a second, finishing blow to the first's cheek. While successful in his plan, this compromised their location.

"Silver, watch my six!" ordered Anchorage, galloping up beside a wall corner as more armed insurgents hustled their way, diving into their own cover as he blindly shot down the corridor.

Doing as told, the beige unicorn took up a position along the opposite corner of the same wall. He peeked around and opened fire on a trio of falsely-armored troops. One collapsed upon taking two of Silver's shots to the chest and shoulder. The others lunged to the shelter of a plastic-wrapped desk.

An gargantuan blast of unknown origin shook the entire building, causing Silver to stagger into the open for a split second before regaining his ground. The noise itself was so immensely loud that it disoriented him like a stun grenade, inducingly numbing his senses long enough to be in harm's way as one of the two sentries reared up and shot the very instance Silver's awareness returned, and he swiftly returned to the safety of the corner.

One bullet, however, did hit its mark, striking Silver on his lower shoulder. Another grazed his right arm, singeing a streak through the sleeve of his uniform and leaving a burn mark on the skin below from the searing bullet. He collapsed with a heavy thump, groaning and coughing.

Anchorage hurried from a few feet over, dragging him inward, turning the unicorn over onto his back. To his relief, he was still very much alive and able to move. "You alright, mate?!"

"Y-yes," huffed Silver, propping himself up slowly and shakily. "Got me in the plates. Hurt like a motherfucker and knocked the wind out of me, but I'm okay."

A quick smack delivered to Silver's left hoof, prompting him to get back in the fight as Anchorage switched sides and went to take on the two in the open room. Silver, in turn, positioned himself above the two his comrade subdued in the corridor. He peeked around briefly, scanning for other enemies. For the time being, he saw none, though at any moment he anticipated more to flood in and overwhelm them.

Having a smoke grenade on deck would come in handy were there more coming, and knowing one was not readily available brought a frustrated grunt out of the young sailor. He lit up his horn to activate his earpiece, calling out while he had time. "Backup needed, twentieth floor! Where are you guys?!"

"Copy. We're pinned down out here. Taking heavy casualties from sniper on nearby low-rise rooftop. Over."

Part of the message came hard to receive over the fire exchange occurring behind his back, prompting Silver to hold a hoof over his other ear. "What about the princesses?!"

"Trapped within the Citadel, ongoing gunfight inside. Sniper's preventing any movement on our end. Wounded reported inside the UWC. Over."

At last, the final sentry went down with two rounds remaining. Anchorage snapped to Silver, shouting to him. "We're all clear up here!"

Silver turned to the pegasus, the light on his horn subsiding. "You can fly, can't you?" He was returned with a raised eyebrow expression that stupidly answered his query. "We need to find that sniper and take them down, our boys can't do shit down there. We have the high ground advantage," he said, starting to walk to a window.

The sudden leadership displayed by the unicorn as he walked past caught Anchorage moderately off-guard, but created a sense of dignity for him to see he now had his mind valiantly set under the circumstances. He responded with a simple nod of acknowledgement and tailed him.

***

The forceful blast of a formidable shot rang out across the city and startlingly through the ears of each pony trapped or fighting in the UWC's Citadel. Another soldier fell to the sniper's petrifying power in a crimson mist, dead in the blink of an eye. He had managed to strike just the perfect spot other than the head to kill on impact, and marked the first straightforwardly-confirmed fatal casualty of possibly hundreds.

Reciting advice from Lieutenant Snow Storm mentally, my breath slowed under self influence, in turn steadying my aim. In another brief burst at the pull of the trigger, three bullets in a row surged out the barrel, one making contact with a sentry far across the room in the midst of returning fire at Hardstaff. He went down, but soon got back up. The remarkably lightweight plating these enemies wore took the immense brunt of the shots we got on them and only added to our frustration.

We had the attackers dwindling in the single digits now and they became less of an issue for us to handle, but we still could not move the princesses or the Ajeris out. Another sniper bullet struck a floor tile, disintegrating it into dust and debris. Propped up along the section of wall below the broken window, one of our squad mates tending to another wounded soldier called out. "Sergeant! Where the fuck's our sniper cover?!"

Putting a hoof over his ear to block out the heavy gunfire, the pegasus sergeant called through the communications channel. "Overwatch Bravo, Bulldog 1-7, what's your status, over?" There was no response. "Overwatch Bravo, Bulldog 1-7, what is your status? Repeat! What is your status?!" Again, nothing. "Shit!" he muttered, slamming his hoof down on the floor furiously. "No good, comms are down! We're on our own in here!"

As soon as my second magazine ran empty, I slipped behind a bench and looked at Nightpath as I subconsciously loaded my third and final clip. "Think you can cover me?"

He looked right at me, stammering to comprehend my request in the quickness of the moment before nodding. "What are you going to do?"

"Don't worry about it," I replied, re-cocking and facing forward. My breath shortened to sharp exhales, then I lurched up and yelled as I made a beeline for the door. "Cover me!"

At my word, Night jumped straight up and did as ordered. His move forced the six remaining insurgents into hiding at once, long enough for me to make the outside corridor and loop around to another entrance to catch them from behind.

Rounding the corner, I encountered a pair of soldiers preparing to breach the locked door. Joining up on them, they gave single nods, before the leading draft stallion focused his weight onto his forehooves and drove his hinds straight into the wood. The door exploded inward in a shower of splinters that caught some of the assailants by surprise. With this, we rushed inside, and two more went down simultaneously.

"This is it, kill those motherfuckers!" shouted Hardstaff from across the Citadel, standing up from hiding with another Marine and absolutely unloading on the last four, unable to stand their ground any longer.

At once, every soldier and Marine able to began the final push. Bullets flew every which way and despite the chaos, friendly fire was the farthest issue from anypony's mind, and after five straight minutes of an onslaught of fire, the last enemy went down in a pool of blood.

But none of us could celebrate just yet. Just when we thought we could, another sniper shot rang out, completely exploding a bench over a huddled group of reporters and showering them with wooden planks snapped like twigs.

"Twilight, use your shield to cover us all to the door!" grunted Shining Armor split-secondly, raising his head just slightly over his Cadence.

"Gotcha!" squeaked the young princess, able to fully rise from her cover to perform the spell. It resulted in temporarily dispersing the bubble, only momentarily leaving her in the open. Her new forcefield build up like a brick wall before the window, filling the Citadel with a protective, purple-magenta hue.

Now was our chance. Holding my gun up, I raised my hoof and yelled. "Everypony make your way to the exits, follow the signs to the designated shelters!"

Some hesitated, namely those in the stands. Soldiers and guards carried their own out hastily. Admiral Gantry aided in hauling Consul Buchard with Ambassador Suldur plugging the gaping bullet wound with a piece of cloth torn purposely from his sleeve, muttering repeatedly, "You're going to be all right! You are not going to die!"

The princesses were ushered out the furthest exit, just narrowly out of the sniper's line of sight, but that didn't stop him. Twilight remained to keep her shield up long enough for everypony to make their way out safely, when yet another shot flew into the room. It struck her barrier and, when it should have vaporized from the intense magical energy, instead pierced a hole through the wall and buried itself in another tile. She let off a scream and lurched up into the air, only to be snatched down by her older brother.

I stood by the exit, among many hurrying innocents out into the halls and to a wide doorway that led into a staircase to a heavily armored basement situated below the UWC, designed specifically to withstand a direct nuclear strike on the complex. Behind the last civilians, Twilight's shield shattered and turned to mere disintegrating sparkles in similar manner as the window when a final shot hit.

Some ten yards from the Citadel, the stainless steel elevator-like doors sat invitingly open. Alarm lights swirled and flashed red in every hall and corridor, signalling the emergency. Shadow watched over the evacuating crowds with his pistol drawn, covering by facing two directions someone looking to cause harm may emerge from.

When it was ensured that every last civilian and all of the wounded safely made it into the bunker, Sergeant Hardstaff took the moment to announce over the universal channel. "This is Bulldog 1-7, we're all clear, over."

"This is Guardian, all clear on our end, over."

"This is Anchorage, I have lost sight of the hostile sniper. Returning to emergency rendezvous point. Over."

Author's Note

Whew! This was one hell of a chapter to write, and one I am extremely proud of. It has become the second longest chapter I have ever written, and the longest thus far in the Millennia Saga as a whole!

39. I Have Demons

A trio of paramedics rushed a stretcher down the front steps to the street, where a white carriage with a red cross painted on its side sat stationary, ready for a dash to the emergency center on code black alert a few blocks away. "Sir, what is your name?" asked one of the EMTs, fast-trotting beside the other two with one hoof on the side.

"M... my n-name?" slurred the brass unicorn with blood staining either corner of his lips. A clean rag replaced the cloth ripped from Ambassador Suldur's suit sleeve, clogging the wound and effectively stopping any more lifeblood from spilling. "B-Buchard," he said through a low breath that was barely audible to either stallion.

"Buchard, you are going to be all right. You've lost quite a bit of blood, but the wound is stabilized for now. You are going to Manehattan General Hospital where they will get that bullet out of you. You hear me?"

"I-I was... s-shot...?" he groaned, the last words spoken before the paramedics folded up the stretcher's legs and slid the wounded diplomat into the back of the ambulance securely, then climbed into the forward seats. As soon as all were safely in, the snow-white draft stallion pulling the carriage began a gallop down the street and around the corner, guarded closely by some of Celestia's pegasus protectors.

The whole scene was an utter mess. Fences used to barricade off civilians in designated locations lay toppled over, some with their bars completely and unbelievably twisted or bent by the sheer strength of the panicking crowds when they evacuated the area. Protestor signs lay strewn across the cement and grass with hoof-sized holes stomped into them, and one or two stuffed animals brought along by foals sat lonely, waiting to be claimed or tossed out like the rest of the trash scattered about.

Across the street, police tape surrounded a parked carriage in a narrow alleyway, as well as the entrance of a 32-story tower with windows shot out along the twentieth floor; leftover evidence of an intense gunfight that trapped two of my friends and were ultimately left to fend for themselves. The whole block was a crime scene. Bodies of the deceased, as well as three incapacitated, were carried out one by one, all of which kept separate from the corpses of the good, and thankfully outnumbered the latter in total.

As soon as the all clear was given an hour and twenty minutes after the first shots were fired, the two ruling diarchs immediately evacuated on the orders of their own Guard escort, while, against the somewhat vulgar demands of Prince Shining Armor, his spouse and younger sister chose to stay put and help any way they could with the recovery efforts.

Amidst the chaos resulting by the clearing out of the Citadel, some injuries took place caused particularly by the stampeding of ponies hurrying to safety, as to be expected. All of which, to our relief, were minor in nature and treated on the spot in one of perhaps a dozen emergency tents put up on the United World of Countries Complex grounds. Among them was Silver Edge, sporting a two-inch wide bruise of alternating purples and blues on his shoulder from where a bullet struck his vest, and a red-tinted mark where another burned off a streak of his uniform sleeve and thin layer of flesh beneath as it grazed his arm.

Miraculously, those were the worst of his injuries. Anchorage went unscathed as well, much to our surprise. I suppose that is due to him being more cautious in his perception as compared to the first time he had bullets aiming for him—that is, the first time I have witnessed him in a legitimate combat situation.

I strolled up to one of the larger tents and stepped only part of the way inside and glanced to my left, where Silver sat as a nurse tended to his arm. He yipped lightly as she applied a cold cloth and then had him hold it there. He looked over slowly, a small frown pursing his lips. "Could be worse, am I right?" he went.

My response was in the form of an agreeing nod, before asking, "How many were there?"

The beige unicorn's magenta irides drifted elsewhere momentarily as he shook his head. "I can't really say. If it weren't for Anchorage, though..." he trailed off, sighing, then looked right back at me. "I owe him a lot, I really do."

A small smile, nothing quite notable, appeared on my muzzle. "If I am to base my judgement on his word, it's that he believes he owes you."

Silver blinked a couple of times, then softly chuckled. "Well, we had each others' flanks up there. He just saved mine more than anything. I'm thankful that he showed up when he did, or else I would have been toast."

"That's why having a partner to watch your six is crucial," I commented in addition to a wink. "You never know when you might need them."

A gentle conceding nod was the unicorn's response. Right then, a pegasus with a coat of blue darker than mine entered the tent to my right in a rather hasty manner. It was Hardstaff. "Petty Officer," he addressed, briefly flicking his eyes toward me and nodding in acknowledgement of my presence.

Silver immediately straightened his back at his former squad leader's entrance. "Yes, Sergeant? What can I help you with?"

The denim-colored Marine strode closer and pulled up short of Silver's cot. "It was brought to my attention that you were upstairs with the Sniper Corps this afternoon? Before the attack?"

Musing over his query, Silver nodded once, firm in his answer. "I was. At least, where they should have been."

Hardstaff's brow raised gently. "Do elaborate for me, sailor. I am trying to gather as much witness information as possible."

Silver momentarily glanced at me, then back at the sergeant. "About five or so minutes before the summit meeting began, I spotted a group of ponies entering the vacant office, carrying briefcases of some sort. Almost looked like gun cases, which make sense now considering the circumstances. I followed them inside and decided to check on Overwatch on the twentieth floor, but when I got there... there was only the gun. No operator, not even a trace of them."

The pegasus nodded as he began jotting down on a notepad with a pen, scribbling every little detail the petty officer described. He glanced back up when Silver paused. "Anything else?"

"Other than the fact that they nearly killed me, and Petty Officer Anchorage saved my ass, I'm going to say no. He did try and chase after the sniper, though."

"Were you at all able to catch a glimpse of the pony?"

Silver shook his head. "No, Sergeant. I was unable to tail Anchorage when he shot out a window and leaped through it in pursuit."

All of this was compelling enough. Though, in the end, it was not sufficient to provide a definitive answer for Hardstaff. He finished writing and glanced up again. "Is that everything?"

"Yes, Sergeant. I'm sorry, that's all I've got," Silver replied, drooping his ears in disappointment.

"That's all right, Petty Officer. Thank you for your time," Hardstaff nodded once to him, then being returned by Silver. As he turned to walk back out, he stopped and stared at me for a couple of seconds. "Can I have a word with you for a moment, too?"

I blinked, nodding once. "Of course, Sergeant." At that, I tailed him out of the tent and around the corner, where nopony was standing. I faced him and quietly went, "What do we know?"

The stallion stoically met his light blue gaze with the crimson of mine. "Not that much, other than those ponies in the Citadel were likely paid assets. We're talking paid heavy sums of money, or offered beforehand if they were successful," he shrugged, I nodded again in agreement to his gesture. "Weaponry isn't anything we haven't seen, mostly shit that can be purchased from your average gun store. Probably from outside the city since there aren't many around here. The armor they wore is being transported for examination, thinking they might provide a few clues."

"What about the rounds recovered in the Citadel? The ones used by the sniper?"

He stared for a few seconds, blinking. "None were able to be recovered. Bits of debris that are too far pulverized to even be recognized as any type of round, let alone be pieced back together in a lab. Our only option is when they remove the shell from Consul Buchard's barrel, and even that isn't guaranteed of a result. Whatever the weapon, it was evidently powerful enough to obliterate its own ammunition and render it virtually unable to be back-traced."

"And the rifle itself was likely packed up, too. They wouldn't leave something like that behind; seems too precious of a commodity, and a murder weapon. They had to have been planning this for some time, too. The concept has the air of being awfully well-thought out," I commented, motioning my hoof.

Hardstaff shook his head in disagreement. "Unlikely. The assembly was only publicly announced a week ago. Acts such as these take months, even years to prepare for."

"Unless perhaps a third party got wind of it ahead of the announcement. Gives them plenty more time to think things through," I suggested, but then grunted as the counter came to mind. "Still, that's only about thirteen days. I imagine it was not an immediate decision on behalf of Canterlot to hold a conference with the Ajerstanians after the incident at sea. There is obviously a bigger motive in play here that we are unaware of."

The sergeant tipped his chin. "You make a good point, though some of it just doesn't add up. This'll be something for Intelligence to work on as we're just their guinea pigs for right now. Until they piece it all together, it is still our job to maintain the integrity of civilians' confidence in us to protect them and their city."

My head bobbed in a comprehensive nod, as there was no more that I felt needed to be uttered. "Yes, Sergeant."

Hardstaff softly grunted, walking around me. "As you were, Corporal."

***

As usual, life went on in the week after. The incident remained fresh on everypony's mind, and no one escaped the head of command's wrath of throwing out double shifts to virtually everypony with non-essential rates; meaning ponies like Silver and Ashfall were stuck with sometimes upwards of 22-hour shifts. Every day. I couldn't help but pity them, even though out of all of us Ash is likely most accustomed to abrupt changes in scheduling. He has been in the Marines longer than even Anchorage has been a sailor. Then again, he is also the oldest of our circle.

Carrying along a travel mug filled completely with freshly brewed coffee for the morning, I routinely entered one of the three offices at the complex. All seemed well upon my first paces inside, walking past working Marines and sailors in the hall on my way to the geological department some four doors in on the left.

Coming up to the door, I took the mug handle in my teeth and dug into a pocket, producing a ring of three keys and briefly fumbling with them before unlocking and entering. The first thing upon entry was three knocks on the door jam, a signal in the office every time one of us walks in.

Anypony else not a member of the team without a key to unlock the door themselves must knock twice, then wait to be allowed in—this was swiftly determined in the aftermath of the second lieutenant's murderous rampage to know when to defend ourselves from a possible intruder should some of us wind up trapped in the complex. The locks had not yet been changed over to the new key card scanners due to a demand surge of them in virtually every building on base, leaving us one of the few offices to receive extra security measures last. Nice to see they care about our safety so much.

Strolling up to my desk, I set the mug down and slid the chair out, uttering to my coworkers as I did so. "Good morning."

"Morning, Corporal," replied Argony, momentarily flicking his chin up in acknowledgement from his computer monitor across from mine on a separate setup.

Like the usual, I asked my daily question as I hung my computer satchel by the back of my chair. In reality, our jobs lately have been tedious at best. "Anything new that I should be made aware of?"

"Nothing but Captain Shadow turning up a little bit ago," said Sergeant Major Aphrodite, carrying with her a folder that she brought over to a cabinet to tuck away, before adding, "Said he was looking for you."

"Oh yeah?" My ears perked and I glanced up at her. It was relieving to have her back after the incident and fully recover from her wounds. "What for?"

"Didn't say, except he expects you at the Eclipse at ten." The brunette-coated mare lifted her hoof and slid back the sleeve a couple of inches to read a watch, then shifted her softened, neutral gaze up at me. "You've got five minutes, Shooter."

I blinked twice. "I'd better run, shouldn't I?" The question was met with a slow nod from the sergeant major, who turned and started back for her office quarters. With that, I snatched up my coffee and hauled ass out the door without a moment wasted.

Most would think I have lost my mind when I say sprinting is one of the greatest feelings. This goes especially when you're dressed top to bottom in a cotton undershirt and blouse, both of which consisting of the darkest shades of blue and grey respectively that absorbs the hot summer sun like an infomercial sponge in a clogged sink. It's even worse being a pony whose coat is already exactly like or close to that of a navy blue. Somehow on the rushed jaunt, however, not a single bead of sweat broke on my forehead.

I slowed my pace to a trot upon reaching the pier housing the Eclipse and eventually halted in the middle to search for Shadow. The task was not particularly difficult, though the abnormal amount of activity surrounding the carrier did lengthen the time it took for my eyes to set upon the patient captain donning the regular working uniform and start towards him.

Glancing around steadily, he soon spotted me on my approach and shifted to face me as I pulled up short. "Corporal," he greeted.

"Captain," I responded, voice barely yet discernibly exhausted from the run, nodding once. "You requested to see me?"

"Of course. I wanted to get you up to speed on some things, but most importantly, I hoped to familiarize you with our new ship," Shadow said, half-monotone, then flicked his gaze down at my mug. "If that coffee's not for me, leave it down here. A spill even from a lidded cup could be costly."

My brow furrowed at his comment, but I went no further to question and, after chugging a large portion down yet not quite finishing the contents, placed it on a portable workbench and turned to the captain. "Ready when you are, sir."

He gently tipped his chin and spun, striding in a leading pace to the aircraft elevator lowered to the dock's level for easy transference. The smallest of waves sloshed harmlessly against the ship's hull and between it and the pier. The carrier still rocked to the river's influence, even in the best of conditions, which to one might frighten upon having to hop over the ten-inch gap safely separating and preventing the elevator from grinding against solid cement and causing potentially grave damage.

I scanned our surroundings, questioning the validity of Shadow's use of 'new' as we left the hangar bay behind and started through the ship's corridors to the bridge. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Captain. This is exactly the same ship we sailed on. What's different?"

"Believe it or not, Star—everything. Anything electronic has been stripped or is in the process of doing so, and will soon be replaced by the latest and greatest. At least, that's what Mace tells me."

Immediately my gaze honed in on Shadow. "Armet Mace? He is doing this for us?"

"Per request of the Head of the Navy and the fleet admiral. Against the train wreck that was the Ajeri summit meeting, my point seemed to have gotten across pretty well when I said our shit was way outdated," he replied, glancing over his shoulder briefly.

"So, it's roughly a ten-million-bit deal with GenTech to provide the Lunar Fleet with the newest operating systems and everything in between, starting with our dearest Eclipse," Shadow continued, pausing only when we reached a ladder to the next level. "After her, they'll move on to the Gibbous, the Lacus, and the Aphelion."

"And... what does this mean for me?" I commented on the climb up after him.

"Come again?"

"Am I being replaced?"

A somewhat loud chuckle came from the greenish-grey stallion, the first I have heard him let off in a while, faintly boomed in the narrow space we stood in with the bulkheads reverberating the noise in all directions. "Of course not, Corporal. It's just computers, not the ponies operating them. The only difference is your station will look completely new."

"Good new, or bad new?"

"I'll leave that up to you to decide," was his curt response, climbing a second ladder that led into a stairwell going up to the main bridge deck.

The hatch to the bridge sat open as it usually did with a faint clamor emanating from within where somepony presumably was still working. A couple of times I flicked a glance at Shadow while he kept in the lead, mentally questioning his notable lack of explanation. Clearly something was there that he chose to hold me out on, and I had a decent idea of what it could be.

"It might be a couple more hours before the bridge is done, and they have been working since around 1700 yesterday. Mind your step," he cautioned, lifting his hoof and stretching it forward to gently hop across an opened toolbox sitting in the middle of the floor. I carefully followed suit before looking up.

Every last keyboard, every mouse, and all of the monitors once securely bolted to their respective stations and desks now sat packed away tidily in basic cardboard boxes with their cords and wires separated, rolled up and tied neatly with plastic zips.

All of the stations were different, too. To an extent, the bridge now looked like a proper command center. LED displays lined the forward-facing station from port to starboard, as well as small screens hanging from either corner. The captain's chair sat propped up near the front, standing taller than the others, equipped with a retractable arm connected to a completely transparent electronic screen—almost like a piece of glass, but it was an actual computer. Below the display sat a small assortment of organized buttons as well.

In dead center of the bridge sat a round-edged, rectangular quartermaster's table with a large light consisting of much of the table surface in the middle. Between the table and the captain's chair stood a thin bar standing a foot off the floor with a glass pane stretching up to a lip in the ceiling,connected to what appeared to be tiny holographic projectors in my best assumption. So, that was a computer too of sorts, or a map.

Finally, there was the wheel, and the radarpony's station, separated on their own desk-like platforms at the rear of the room. My new station occupied a simple, thin lip-like bar sticking from the bottom of the desk, and a slab of glass built into the surface with a tiny power button positioned beside it.

I strolled up and studied the station thoroughly, before pressing the button. The glass lit up in a glow of bright blue with the interactive picture of touch-pad keyboard, and the projector sprung up a paper-thin hologram made of pure light energy, yet was completely solid in nature after a couple of light taps with my hoof. On the projection showed three individual displays; weather and nautical radar, and sonar. Scrutinizing the change, I turned right to Shadow approaching on my left. "What the hell is this?" were the first words on my mind to escape my lips.

"I take it you are not much of a fan?" remarked Shadow in a low tone, grunting softly as I replied with a firm shake of my head. "Trust me, Star, I do miss good old fashioned monitors with keyboard buttons that you can feel with your own two hooves. But this is what they had for us, this is what is on the demand market right now."

I scowled in mild irritation. "What are we, a floating Bridleway now?"

The stallion cocked his head curiously. "Why do you say that?"

My eyes narrowed solely on the captain. "Come on, Shadow, even the coffee pot has a big blue 'G' printed on the side," I said, pointing to the side at the mini-kitchen. "You think I wouldn't notice that first thing? Last I checked, we don't ride around with every brand of everything plastered on the bulkheads—or better yet, the hull of the ship."

Rather than meeting my expression with equal dismay, the smallest of genuine smiles pursed his lips. "Rest assured when I say the brand of coffee we have on deck isn't going anywhere, there'll be plenty of that next deployment."

I waved my hoof around in a gesture to put that notion aside. "That's not the point, Captain. Do we need all of this new shit?"

Shadow's smile vanished abruptly, returning to the neutral demeanor he typically wears. It was a moment before he gave a single nod. "Yes, Corporal, I believe we do."

My brow furrowed suspiciously. "Why not just... you know, refresh the operating system we run on, or strip all of the receivers on top of the island and replace them? I'm not sure I even recognize the ship anymore!"

"Because our old hardware couldn't handle the stuff GenTech produces, according to Armet. Old processors, displays, everything had to go or else we would be essentially sailing in the nineties."

"Shadow, I thought this was the New Lunar Republic. We are supposed to be the top of the line for military technology in Equestria. Why on earth did we let that fall off?"

He didn't initially reply, instead turning to look at the technician across the bridge who happened to glance up from his work. Shadow nodded to him, shifting his attention back only when we were the only two in the room.

"The defense budget, Star. Celestia is still trying to slash it, even with all the shit that has gone down in the past year. Less funding means cutbacks, and cutbacks means sacrifices have to be made. Either personnel or the gear they use, we can only have one or the other. We sure as hell cannot afford to lose crucial sailors or Marines on the force, so upgrades for all of our equipment is discarded until the next royal fiscal agreement is considered.

"We train everypony normally, as well as we can or more so everyone's expertise in how to defend themselves and fight when the time calls for it is mutual. The common excuse is that Equestria's navy is functional enough, though it's quite the opposite when we lose the most basic of navigational systems to something as meager as a lightning strike without the aid of contemporary safeguards.

"This is everything we have ever needed, Star. I may not be all too fond of Armet, but he has no hesitation when it comes to our operational boundaries being raised. I have him to credit for his generosity toward the integrity of my ship and the safety of my crew in future deployments." He then stopped, drawing in a breath slowly, letting it off in a quiet form of a sigh. Shadow lifted a hoof and cordially pressed it on my shoulder.

"That includes you—my friend. I perfectly understand your reasoning, why you are hesitant to accept the new. It will take some time for everyone to adjust, even me. Believe me when I say that you will not have to learn anything, or go through more classes for the technology. Everything you know is there, just in a new place. It'll be a new force of habit. Do you understand?"

I stared neutrally for a few moments, considering thoughts for a moment, then nodding comprehensively before speaking. "Affirmative."

Shadow took his hoof off of my shoulder and stiffened his posture slightly. "If there are no further statements you wish to speak your mind on, then I believe we are done here, Corporal. I'll walk you down."

***

It was well past nine, and the sun had set no more than a half hour ago. The dark of night shrouded Joint Base Manehattan, illuminated by street poles and the few remaining lights of some administrative buildings. A gold hue echoed above the distant skyline with a touch of neon blue from GenTech Tower, shining like a bright beacon of the future over the bustling metropolis steadily becoming busy once more in time for its famed nightlife.

Following the end of a half shift at the geology office, replaced by Magnus for the night watch, I made my way to the dormitories for the evening. A lukewarm, dew-scented breeze bounced the strands of my sky-blue mane a little under my cover and whisked gently between my feathers, prompting me to partially spread them as I walked to feel the air flow around, like a rock in a stream; the one sensation I could get that matched flying, or how I assumed it to be like.

Times such as now were when my mind roamed freely, often jaunting between brief thoughts correlating to work, among other things. However, that was not the case this evening. Along the trek halfway across base, my contemplations congregated around one thing, and one thing only; the shootings. Alas, that is to be expected with many wherever I may go. It happened only a week ago, after all. Stuff like that remains fresh on everypony's heads.

But it felt... different. These were not the musings glanced over mentally a hundred times since it occurred. I knew exactly why, too. It was all coming back to me; a frightening reminder of last year, soul-wrenching memories of the attack on the Eclipse and the city mere months apart from one another, and partially recurring the scuffle on the Alder with those weird figures.

About a third of the way to the dorms, I stopped near a brightly-lit spot to catch my breath. I hadn't been running, yet I found myself gasping for air. Almost like it was being forced out of my lungs, but without any sort of pain or pressure that I could properly acknowledge.

I pressed my hoof up against a lamp post and rested against it, head dipping and facing downwards, essentially huffing in and out in deep respiratory movements. My gaze darted to my far right, past the pole I leaned on. For some odd reason, I expected to see a pony standing there, but no one was around. Somehow, I detected a pair of eyes looking from afar. It might have been somepony randomly peeking out their office window, yet it felt... constant. Like they were watching me. If they were, whoever it was, their stealth far surpassed my immediate field of view, even with how well-lit the base typically is past dusk. Hiding would not be a particularly easy task to pull off around here.

Regardless, I decided to keep moving. This time, there was a weight on my chest. A light one, at that, though discernible at most. Breathing didn't hurt, but I could make out that it wasn't right. Something wasn't right. I couldn't put my hoof on it.

Then I stopped in my tracks. Immediately, my attention turned to one specific administrative complex standing just a floor up and no higher, small in overall size, but with plenty of room for compact offices. Most of the lights were still on, glowing in an unfiltered bright bluish-white across the ground in rectangular patches. My sights studied the building for only a few moments before it came to mind. This is Haywalker's building.

A turn in my path brought me to the door, still wide open in terms of not having been locked up for the night. I don't think this place did lock up since one of the maybe five or six departments occupying it functions day in and day out, though I could be wrong.

The door creaked as I jarred it open and slipped inside, hooves gently clicking against the polished tile flooring. Being the only noise after the door closed behind me, they almost seemed loud, and subconsciously began ensuring each new step forward would not draw unwanted attention.

My pace slowed on approach to a door on the right, sitting completely open with a gentle light of a lamp shining within. I pulled up to the frame and stood in it, gawking into the little room and at a sky-blue unicorn with a mane of pure coal slicked back tidily as possible for its short length. He flipped through a booklet in a folder, silently stood before an open filing cabinet drawer where he extracted it from.

It was only a couple of moments spent standing there when I cleared my throat, then uttered, "Doc."

He lurched, closing the file and turned quickly over his shoulder, looking ultimately caught off guard by my unexpected presence, only to calm when he adjusted his glasses to scrutinize me. Now I felt bad for startling him. "Corporal! I was just about to head home for the night. Can I help you with something?"

Ears swiveling back, I pulled off my cover and held it over my chest in a show of eased manner. "I... I need to sit down and talk with you for a few. Would that be okay?"

Haywalker slipped the folder back into its respective place in the cabinet. "If it is as imperative as you make it out to be, I don't see why not." He motioned his head toward his desk and slid out the upholstered mahogany chair, seating himself slowly. I eased myself onto a chair of similar color, but far less fancy in style. "How are you doing, Corporal? It's been some time since our last talk. I trust Pastel has been working her magic?"

First came a nod, but then a shrug, partial in my answer, which raised the stallion's eyebrow. "She has, though it's been a couple of months at least between our more recent appointment. Deployment played a big role in that, but for the most part, I haven't... had much of the will to go back."

"And why is that?" Haywalker gently cocked his head to the left curiously. "Do you feel her efforts are not working in your favor?"

"No, no, that's not what I'm trying to say at all. She's helping, she really is, and I could not be more thankful for you to have referred me to her, it's just..." I paused, the words halting at the back of my throat. Softly I sputtered in attempt to muster what I wanted to say, further building upon the doctor's apparent bewilderment. After a solid half a minute, I gave up and lost my straightened posture. "I have demons, Doc. I can't shake them, no matter what I do."

"What makes you say that, Corporal? That you are unable to rid yourself of these troubles?" he queried further.

A pain struck my chest, like a spear driven into my very core. For a second I contemplated a fib, only to then acknowledge it would not make a difference. I drew in a deep breath, then shakily let it off.

"The dreams don't stop. The memories. When the summit meeting was attacked, I felt it all coming back. The inhibitions, the possibility of dying to the enemy, the fear of failing my peers and Equestria. They all grab me with razor sharp claws and just... they won't stop scratching, and they won't let go of me, no matter how much I resist."

I paused to take in a short breath then swiftly letting it out. "Don't get me wrong, I feel great after talking to Pastel, it's... just... all of it feels so provisional.

"I can be confident in myself the entire day after the fact no problem. But, come the next, everything seems so... dull. When I glance out at the city every morning, all of the color I saw the first time I arrived in Manehattan is gone. I see my coworkers on a shift and I feel like they shake their heads at me in disappointment when I'm not looking. I glance at my friends, and... I can hear them silently judging me."

Again, I stopped, gaze falling to the desk slowly as I let it all out. My eyes turned glassy with tears threatening to gather, and a lump clogged my throat. Gradually, I lifted my blurry focus to meet the poised bearing of the psychiatrist, swallowing the blockage. "I sound like a soppy jackass right now, I just know I do. How am I meant to fix all of this, Doc?"

Haywalker stared for a good minute or two, before I managed to detect an almost unnoticeable falter of his ears. The manifest hurt in my eyes was all too evident of my state of mind. A low sigh escaped the Marine's lips. "Star, there are some things that just do not leave you. Efforts can be made to minimize the effect on your mental state, perhaps make you immune to the horrific memories, but you cannot forget what you so vividly recall.

"You do not know how much it pains me to see ponies of your age—or even younger—trot into my office seeking guidance. I offer them the best advice seared into my brain during the classes I took, sometimes I give my own personal word that may violate better judgement, and sometimes that turns out to be the better choice."

Where he was going was beyond me at that point. "What, exactly, are you trying to say, Doc?"

"I'm saying..." Haywalker stiffened his posture. "I'm saying the road is long and winding. It will continue to lengthen the more you refuse to walk it. Granted, there are shortcuts, although it involves weeks, possibly months of multiple strong forms of medication, the strongest currently on the market. Frankly, as I have said in the past, I am the furthest from comfortable writing you off with a bottle of pills and stamping you as battle-ready again, because you are not, and conventional medicine will not aid in your ailment.

"It's precisely as I suggested eight months ago, Corporal. The better option may very well be honorable discharge, to get you away from this life and gradually reintegrate you into the civilian world. I understand how difficult that may be, but I now see it is active duty which is affecting you this way."

My head cocked, eyes narrowing with tears now sitting in them. "So, what, I won't get any better until I am given the boot in five more years?"

Haywalker shook his head. "No, no," he waved his hoof dismissively, then exhaled. "Corporal, you are attached to your rate. You are attached to your platoon, and you are fully attached to your Marines. I fully understand that. But all of this places you in prime position for danger, such as what has occurred these recent few months. What I am trying to say is that your road to recovery won't begin unless you relax, which is why I prescribed those two weeks at the start of the year. Clearly it is much more that you need."

"Like what, Doc?"

"Go home, see family, hang out with your friends. Surely you have not taken the time to do that recently?"

The stare I wore in that very instance was one of pure sarcasm and minor annoyance. "Don't get me started on that."

Haywalker raised his eyebrow again at my remark. Instead of continuing on that note, he leaned forward, hooves on the desk. A thin frown curled his lips downward as he shifted the course back to the original topic. "What you went through, Star, will always be a part of you. There is no denying that it will forever be clinging to your memories like a bloodthirsty parasite. For the time being, it is practically impossible to fix without intense hypnotization magic which, right now, is hard to come by, not to mention extremely expensive, and an extremely risky procedure; one even the smartest of unicorns would have trouble mastering.

"Now, over the passage time, varying between pony to pony, you will begin to move away from these reminisces, and they will start to affect you less. Perhaps you may grow accustomed to them to where they no longer cause you to lose sleep or other normal functionality."

I motioned my hooves, a look of evident desperation now permeating my countenance. "But how long, Doc? That is the main question I have for you, because I... I don't know how much longer I can tolerate it."

The unicorn's ears notably lost their perk, and his gaze faltered. A silence fell between the two of us for a couple of moments before he could look me in the eye again.

"I don't know," were his words. "That is why I referred you to Pastel. I hoped she could possibly aid in the process being sped up slightly for your convenience, but..."

"But?"

"It is your impatience that is bogging your progress, Corporal," he affirmed in a sudden change of demeanor. "I recognize your intense need to promptly end the worst parts of your memory, and quite honestly, I would too if I were in a similar situation. However, as I have stressed prior, this process does take time. A lot of it. But, to do all of this, I need your consent. I always need the patient's consent."

I sat there for a few moments, staring with worry across the desk. Steadily I zoned out and broke eye contact, gaze lowering to the wooden surface between us. The words he spoke reverberated throughout my conscience in my state of muse. "I'll let you think about it."

Before long, I sighed, looking up and pinning my ears back. "I don't think I am ready for all of that. I just don't, Doc. Not yet."

The look on his face hinted of annoyance, masked by his own collected nature. I was irritated with myself, too. "Is there anything else?" he questioned.

I shook my head. "No—well, there is one thing... but..."

"But?" he furrowed an eyebrow again.

"I... feel like it's less of a problem than it was then. That, and... I think it's something for me to solve on my own."

Haywalker stared questionably in silence for a few long, uneasy moments, but went no further to query what I meant. "I trust your word, Corporal. Is that all?"

My head bobbed in a gentle nod. "Yes, Doc. That was everything I wanted to talk about," I answered, cracking a small, genuine smile. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he nodded back once. "Take care, Star Shooter."

***

"Beginning today, mares and gentlecolts, I am pleased to announce a new wave of automated security drones will take to the streets to keep the public safe and sound. This order was given on behalf of Mayor Gold Pendant in the wake of the unprecedented tragedy at the United World of Countries that the city continues to pick up the pieces from."

Down in the press, countless journalists and reporters raised their hooves and simultaneously called the maroon unicorn's name. His sights nonchalantly selected one in the forward row of seats, quieting the room to let the mare talk.

"Mr. Mace, I believe I speak on behalf of many citizens when I forward these questions; what are these 'drones' you speak of? What will they do for the ponies of Manehattan?"

Armet nodded once at the mare reporter in acknowledgement of her query. "That is a very good question that I am glad you asked, Ms... uh..."

"Locket, Blue Locket, Equestria News Network," she finished for him.

"Ms. Locket," he nodded again. "These drones, taking the shape of your average pony, will serve as an addition to the Manehattan Police in patrols around Manehattan Island. With GenTech enhancements, they have the grand ability to neutralize a suspect of crime without so much as harming them. Have a look at this diagram," Armet said, shifting his attention to a holographic display he set up behind him. It pictured a multi-dimensional image of the robot in question from multiple angles, as well as each of its features, including the array of weapons built in, which would certainly be terrifying in the eyes of a mother and her foal.

I rubbed a hoof gently along my forehead just below my hairline, staring blankly at my other placed atop the bar counter. The smooth, glossy lacquer surface glimmered under the ceiling lights and faintly reflected the ever-changing picture of the five individual television screens hanging over the kitchen and broadcasting different channels, most of which particularly dedicated to sports across Equestria and the world. The only exception was the one local news channel turned on, replaying Armet's press conference.

Sports were the last thing on my mind. Hell, I hadn't walked six and a half blocks just to catch up on the Wonderbolts and their current racing season, or the coming hoofball season. There weren't many ponies I knew who did that on any regular basis, anyway. Heading off base, in my situation, was strictly limited to groceries, the occasional night out with the colts, or going into the city to catch a train. Never have I gone out to drink alone—but that changed tonight.

Three drinks in. That's where I was. Drowsiness had begun settling, much less any sort of drunkened stupor like I hoped to be. Either the cider I had been ordering wasn't alcoholic, or it didn't have as much in it anymore—or I have grown a rather quick tolerance to the beverage. Whatever the case, I needed another drink. "Sir!" I called, not too loud though, raising my hoof. "Can I get another?"

With an acknowledging nod, the previously unoccupied bartender snatched up another mug and filled it to the brim with the foamy apple-based drink, enough to where some of it dripped off the side. He set it on the counter and slid it right into my hoof from a few feet down, where I gave him a single, appreciative nod and took a long, slow sip to savor the fresh goodness. Now the buzz had kicked in. Only a little, though, since I could still hear the gears turning up above.

Typically this place packed out, especially around this time of night. The sole reason why only a select few including myself made the venture likely had to do with ponies wanting to stay inside and turn in early after last week; the exact same way everypony did when the Constitution bombarded the city. Despite the potential loss of revenue, the bartender and owner of the pub seemed content with the notable lack of business. He only perked up when the door at the corner of the establishment creaked open and in stepped another customer. It was until after he approached did I neglect to pay any mind to him.

"Oh, Star! Didn't expect to catch you over here," said Anchorage, slipping up into the bar stool to the left of mine and folding up his wings snugly to his sides. He probably flew here, the lucky bastard. "What's the occasion?"

"None in particular, just wanted a drink," I responded tiredly, eyes briefly darting to the three emptied mugs of cider still dripping foam, sitting off to the side.

"Just a drink?" Anchorage furrowed his eyebrow questionably. He shrugged it off after I nodded, facing forward and glancing up at the same television screen I was watching. He scoffed in disgust. "This pony is the news?"

"When isn't he?" I grunted softly, chin only a couple of inches from the counter surface. "I swear, every day they have a segment about him. It's absurd."

"Isn't he deep in hot water as it is? Y'know, with the whole Canterlot mining deal?" Anchorage remarked, waving his hoof at the bartender to order a drink.

"Well, now he's putting robots out there to 'protect the city'," I rolled my eyes.

The greyish-white pegasus shifted his ice-blue gaze directly to me. "You kiddin'? Where the hell were they when the UWC was attacked, when they tried to kill the princesses?"

"Don't ask me, brother." I shook my head, rubbing my hoof down my face and sighing. I then looked over at him. "Anyone else coming, or is it just you?"

"Just me that I am aware of, mate," he responded, holding a mug to his muzzle and taking three enormous gulps that downed half of its contents. He slapped it down with a sharp exhale. "Why?"

"Only curious," I said lowly, scratching behind my ear to satisfy a small itch. "Anything stressing you out?"

Anchorage cocked his head a little at the question, only to look up at one of the television screens broadcasting a hockey game that attracted his attention. "Other than the usual idiot or two at work, nope. You?"

My sights fell to the counter and my one hoof stretched halfway over it. "Where do I begin?"

"Somewhere," he said before taking another sip of his own cider.

A glower took form on my countenance, staring at the smooth and shiny wooden surface. "Now, you know I trust you more than anypony when it comes to speaking my mind."

"More than Silver? Or Ash? Even Nightpath?"

"Well, not entirely. I trust you all equally, but we seem to have the most encounters when it comes to this," I stated, garnering an agreeing nod from the pegasus sailor. "Anchor... do you have trouble sleeping?"

He froze just before the mug could reach his lips and snapped his head right over to make firm eye contact. "What is that meant to imply?" he asked, honing in on me with a questionable stare.

"Nothing in particular, just..." I drew in a small breath, meeting his concerned light blue with my drowsy crimson. "Answer the question."

Anchorage blinked a couple of times. "Only because I'm a damn petty officer who's always on his hooves, because some dipshit fried a circuit or gave his computer a blue screen because he overloaded it with too much—"

I waved my hoof around dismissively. "Okay, okay. But do you for any reason other than your job?"

He raised his eyebrow and stared in silence for a few moments, up until the question finally clicked in his mind. Slowly, he faced forward. "Yes."

My ears swiveled sideways. "Dare I ask, or are we on the same page?"

"I believe we are," he grimly answered, gently nodding. "But that ain't why I drink."

"So I'm wrong for it?"

He turned to me, eyes slightly widened. "No. Everyone has their own reasons. Mine is because work is stressful. That, and I miss home. Been far too long."

I nodded in acknowledgement. "Why not take some time off if that's the case?"

Anchorage flashed a look over, which made me back off. "Please. If you knew my chief, you'd know it ain't that simple."

I gazed forward again, opting toward minding my own business at that point. "Well, damn, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I just have to put up with him 'til my time comes to get out."

The smallest of smiles cracked on my lips. "As if twenty-three-year-old, Petty Officer Second Class Anchorage has any intention of discharging from his beloved Navy," I teased.

A smirk crossed the northern pegasus' muzzle. "Ya know me too well, Star. And here I thought that was Ash's job."

We both chuckled at that, all while watching our own two programs from our stools. Anchorage continued to follow his hockey game, while I listened in to Armet Mace's continued address on the news channel.

"With these, we shall make Manehattan a safer place for the ponies of Equestria. The future... is now. That will be all, thank you."

***

Despite his roots, I never quite pegged Anchorage as a hockey fan. I suppose it made sense in all reality, though it quickly became embarrassing, in my opinion, when he ended up being the only one shouting in the pub over the game and occasionally beating on the counter repeatedly every time a goal was scored. In the end, his team, the Winneighpeg Blizzards, didn't even win—not that he seemed to mind. Watching him get this excited was amusing enough.

After long, the bar did kick us out, claiming it was for our own sake. It wasn't for any bad reason, they simply refused to keep serving drinks after I finished my sixth and Anchorage finished his ninth, and yet he barely seemed tipsy, much to my perplexity.

It was roughly a quarter 'til one when we left the pub, so we were the only two out on the street at that point. No pony wandered Bronclyn at this time, and typically for a justifiable reason—not that it was a crummy area of town, although big cities tend to get rowdy after dark, and because flying isn't one of my particular skills, in spite of being a pegasus, Anchorage opted to walk with me back to base.

Like earlier, sleepiness loomed more than drunkenness; I guess that's what effect alcohol has on me, which is slightly irritating to say the least, although it's nice to not be stumbling around and knocking shit over, or be excessively loud to the point where ponies don't open up their windows and tell either of us to shut the hell up. In fact, we were especially quiet along the jaunt.

Breaking the silence, however, we stopped short of a cut between two shops at the sound of a debilitated, pained groan. My ears perked and I glanced over to my friend, saying, "Did you hear that?"

Anchorage's ear twitched, not saying a word as he waited to hear it again. When a second noise occurred, he turned to me and went, "Wait here," patting my shoulder. The wary pegasus moved with caution into the darkened alleyway, vanishing into a veil of dark where only his faint silhouette could barely be made out, even in my current state.

I strode a few paces forward, standing at the opening of the cut. A sharp, yet low gasp from him startled me. He said aloud, "Star, come here!"

Quickly, I moved up along his side, looking right down at the ground to what he had fixated on, and what I discerned in the shadows made my blood run cold. A stallion no bigger than the two of us with a mane frail and greying with a similarly-colored beard lay trembling, foaming at the mouth, like some sort of rabid animal—but he was not infected with rabies, like that damn rat that bit me in the bathroom of my dorm could have been. He was in trouble.

But that wasn't all, that wasn't what stood out the most about him. We both knew this stallion. It was the captain of the Alder.

We both turned to look at each other, one as bewildered as the other as we each caught the same idea simultaneously. "Hold on... that can't be! They flew him and his crew back to Trottingham months ago!"

"Hnn... nnngh..." grunted the grizzling sea captain. Our eyes drifted back to him, Anchorage kneeling on his side and placing a hoof to his chest.

"Stay with me, Captain," asserted Anchorage, gently turning his head to make the slow-blinking stallion look up at him. "We're going to call for help, alright?"

A low groan emanated from the weakened pony, eyelids shuddering in a feeble attempt to keep open. He trembled beneath Anchorage, mustering every last bit of strength to raise his head and whisper to the worried pegasus. "The future... is... now..."

His head lowered steadily and fell sideways, eyes closing at last. Without so much as hesitating, I dug into my pocket and retrieved my phone, beginning to dial for an ambulance. My heart raced a thousand miles per hour in the few seconds it took for an operator to pick up, which felt like an absolute eternity.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

"Hello? We've got... a downed pony in an alleyway, seems to be heavily intoxicated or poisoned and showing signs of cardiac arrest, and he just closed his eyes! We're at the two-hundred block of..." I turned quickly to check the street name for the paramedics to easily track. As I did, however, my head was met with a powerful strike that sent me straight to the concrete.

"Star!" shouted a shocked Anchorage. He lurched up and over to my aid, only to be struck down beside me. My mind raced, though like paralysis, I found myself unable to move any parts of my body. Pain surged through my head in the form of a heavy migraine, throbbing at the source of impact.

Hooves clicked on the concrete, steadily moving past us to the older stallion. Faintly, the words, "No, please...!" rang through my head, distorted in my plighted state, before his moans of desperation were ultimately ceased by a single, silent shot to the forehead.

Groaning, blinking heavily in an attempt to keep awake, I turned my head sideways to look at my fallen companion. He lay more stunned than I, motionless on the ground. I made a feeble attempt to call his name, but no coherent words escaped my maw, and I fell utterly limp when one of the figures stepped beside him.

"Uh, what about this one?" uttered a younger-sounding voice, the pony it belonged to gently prodding and poking Anchorage's side with a hoof.

"Get rid of him. The boss said the blue one is who we need."

Author's Note

Sorry this one took over a month to do. My computer dying was a huge setback, and realizing how long this chapter would end up being with everything I had in mind for it further added to it. I also didn't expect it to get anywhere near 9,000 words, so there's a plus. Anyways, here it is! The story isn't dead yet!

40. Vengeance

Shadow's escort rolled up to the front of the pristine and seemingly endlessly-tall skyscraper. Upon exiting his carriage alongside a well respected Air Force lieutenant, the greenish-grey stallion gazed up the side of the tower that glimmered spectacularly beneath the mid-summer sun, flawlessly reflecting its blinding light and the surrounding cloud-dotted sky like a mirror.

A second carriage behind theirs came to a halt some ten feet behind, doors opening to allow out two more high-ranking members of the Army and Marines. Together, the four ponies would report individually to their respective branches on whatever it was they were requested here for. Neither of them had any sort of clue, other than it was a major project classified to all but those working on it.

Just beyond the building's sliding glass doors stood a finely-dressed businesspony with a warm, welcoming smile, accompanied by a small earth pony mare tapping away at a tablet in her hoof, whom only glanced up when the four serviceponies entered.

"Good afternoon! Welcome to GenTech," the maroon unicorn greeted, strolling nonchalantly to meet them. He firmly shook hooves with each pony before stopping at the Air Force lieutenant, looking puzzled by him. "New face, huh? Where is Commander Storm Strider?"

The sky-blue pegasus seemed mildly caught off-guard by the query, adjusting his square-framed glasses by pushing them back on his nose. "I regret to inform you on such short notice that, after last week's incident at the U.W.C, Commander Strider has chosen to avoid Manehattan for some time. As such, I will be reporting to him for today, Mr. Mace."

Armet gave a single nod of understanding. "Yes, it seems most would prefer to stay home since then. That is understandable." He then shifted his secretary, politely asking, "Will you ready the transport for us, please?"

With an acknowledging nod, the mare tapped a few times on her device's screen. "Transport is on its way, Mr. Mace!" she addressed with a smile.

"Thank you," he tipped his chin thankfully, then turning back to the four. "Gentleponies, if you would follow me, we have a train to catch."

At that, Armet spun around, leading the four through the highly modern lobby, past a holographic projector displaying a spinning model of the company logo and a lounge area to the elevators. The one chosen was larger than most, more on the lines of a cargo elevator, yet not nearly as filthy as one and neglected to lack the sophistication of the other ones in the building, finished with a stainless steel interior and two small screens on opposite sides of the door above four buttons neatly arranged in a square.

Once all slipped comfortably inside with plenty of room to spare between ponies, Armet pressed the lower left button. It chimed, prompting the doors to close, and thus began the journey downward. The short trip into the underground went on silently; so quiet that a pin dropping would be comparable to a gunshot, only interrupted by a low hum outside the little compartment that proved highly dissimilar to the common elevator.

"For those of you who might not be aware, we have completely redesigned the elevators of GenTech Tower so that they aren't raised or lowered by conventional cables. No, from top to bottom of the shafts sit panels that magnetically attract either the top or bottom of the car. Depending on which way you are going, one has more force over the other to lift the elevator, but there is just enough equilibrium to stop it from flying up or down too fast," explained Armet in a break of the silence, motioning his hooves.

Of the four visitors, only the Air Force pony actually seemed impressed. His Army counterpart merely flicked a glance at Armet in a show of acknowledgement, while Shadow and the sole Marine officer stood statue-like in stance and apathetic to his explanation. In that respect, the wine-coated stallion passed their silence off when the elevator reached the bottom with the gentlest of thumps.

The doors slid open with a second electronic chime signalling their arrival to that floor, which led straight into a tube-like tunnel of sorts with a platform that aligned impeccably to a single rail propped on pillars above the bottom of the rounded burrow. Basic rectangular light fixtures hung from the curved concrete ceiling, illuminating tiny dust particles floating about the recently finished area. As compared to the rest of the building, it seemed as if they had entered a completely separate realm due to the unfinished nature of the room they now gathered in. To them, it was a subway station of sorts, though significantly smaller than the ones throughout the city, and not public.

The tunnel did extend in the other direction, where a rapidly approaching roar emanated from. Light flooded the hole as the sleekly-designed tram looped around and effortlessly glided to a halt along the platform. Hissing echoed throughout the little station as the doors on both cars granted entry, and Armet led his assistant as well as those accompanying him on board. A female robotic voice sounded over the interior speakers, "Welcome aboard, Boss."

"Where's the driver?" asked an abruptly-concerned Equestrian Army officer, glancing up and down the adjoining cars as he entered behind the unicorn, neither of which occupying cockpits of any sort.

A smug, boasting grin crossed Armet's muzzle. "Doesn't need one. It is one-hundred percent automated, operable by the request of a simple tap on any device connected to the GenTech mainframe," he said, raising his volume only when the doors securely closed.

Everypony gently took hold of their own handle hanging from the ceiling moments before the monorail lightly lurched forward and began to pick up speed, and all light outside of the cars vanished behind them as they sped beneath the bustling city.

On a monitor along a wall panel near the front displayed a miniature map, showing their current location relative to their destination at the end of the line, transitioning over to a similar picture that included the geographical shape of the land and water nearby. It raised suspicion in Shadow's head, noting of the peculiar stop which was situated out at sea. "Just where does this monorail lead?" he questioned.

"Approximately two and a half miles east of the city. At this point we are traveling beneath Manehattan Bay where the water is still shallow enough to allot a facility at the ocean floor," answered Armet, observing the centered map consistently change in position.

The naval captain flicked an ear, pondering some more. He wanted as much information out of the unicorn entrepreneur as possible before they arrived. "How long has it been out here for?"

Armet whistled, shrugging his shoulders. "Years before I even considered building here. Constructed the monorail shortly after we achieved the rights to the facility for easy transport. There's a separate one that leads to the port that brings in resources."

"So why did you acquire it?" Shadow asked out of blatant curiosity.

The maroon unicorn sported a toothy grin directed back equally at his guests, shifting his attention to the left side windows. He proceeded to say tersely, "You shall soon see."

Within a mere thirty seconds of his remark, the monorail exited the lengthy tunnel into an enormous hangar bay; large enough that, despite the speed of the train, seemed as though they weren't moving at all. Soon, the gazes of four military stallions followed Armet's, and each were met with their own shock and awe at the astonishing sight before their very eyes.

Held perhaps fifty to one hundred feet above the facility floor by six giant steel clamps, similar to those used for some airships when they dock, sat a gargantuan example of technological advancement, sleek in design and taking the overall form of an arrow head with thin wings spanning from front to rear along either sides. The nose of the arrow-shaped cruiser sloped upward, cutting off at a flat portion where a bay of sorts sat wide open, continuing the aerodynamic manner of its design some three-hundred feet behind the beginning of the plain.

At the very top of the ship sat the bridge—a circular shield of angled window panes complimenting the cruiser's shape, stretching a full one-hundred and eighty degrees to provide a crystal clear view surrounding it, finished with a small shark-like vertical fin with an array of antennas and radar domes.

The monorail soon came to a steady halt at a platform suspended above the floor, connected to a long walking bridge that stretched from virtually the far south face of the underwater facility up to the craft itself with multiple staircases leading up to two individual access hatches, while other ramps and stairs led downward to the bustling floor, where hundreds buzzed around. Sparks flew from a couple of points on the side of the ship as unicorn and earth pony workers welded, while pegasi worked in pairs to haul heavy panels and crates to and fro across the massive base.

"Twin hypernuclear fission reactor engines, capable of sustaining continuous suborbital flight. Three individual landing strips with adjacent hangars to store four to six small fighters per, plus one more for heavy cargo aircraft in resupplies," explained Armet, leading the four, plus his assistant at his side, nonchalantly toward the ship after disembarking the monorail, which had pulled off and vanished into another tunnel at the opposite end of the hangar.

"Is this the carrier you promised? The one you mentioned some time back?" Shadow remarked, maintaining a solid focus on nothing but the gigantic, strange-looking craft.

"This? No, of course not—I would have teamed up with ship builders, the best of the best, to design a new breed of aircraft carriers," Armet then chuckled softly, stopping and turning around to face them, gesturing his hoof up at the cruiser. "This, gentlecolts, is Vengeance."

The Army major glanced up, honing in on the side, where the name had been proudly engraved into the paneling. "That is what you named it?" he said.

"First and foremost. Long before production officially commenced nine months ago," replied Armet, continuing toward the staircase at the end of the walkway.

The name struck Shadow as peculiar, and in his mind he began to question the need for such a name. He recognized aircraft and seafaring vessels in the past to be named for particular reasons, though most of the time it is left to the public to decide on a perfect title. Of course, it brought him full circle back to the Lunar Fleet; none of the presently active ships held purposeful names.

"Nine months? Surely that cannot be accurate, it took eight years alone to build just the Eclipse, and it is maybe a sixth of the size!" said Shadow, disregarding his prior, brief state of muse. Even he was moderately impressed.

"Nine months to the day last week, Captain," Armet nodded. "With the help of pony power and automation combined, we cut the time quite nearly down from a whole decade's worth of work. Our machines produce the pieces necessary, then we bring in some of the strongest pegasi and earth ponies to set them in place while our unicorns finish the job. Works quite well, actually. Perhaps other shipbuilding companies could learn a thing or two from this place," he snickered softly.

A scoff came from the Army major. "Yeah, perhaps. Put a lot of hard-working ponies out of jobs, ruin the economy, let countries east and west observe the total downfall of pony ingenuity," he commented.

Armet glanced over his shoulder, offering a lukewarm smile that was half-genuine. "Oh, I not once said fully automated. Simply the integration of robotics and programmed machinery to speed up the process. Faster production equals increased profits, expansion, etcetera. Of course, I cannot speak for other companies, though it is part of my job as the CEO of GenTech to create an image of the future and to meet the technological needs of ponies throughout the country, and across the world."

The group climbed three flights of stairs to one of the port-side hatches, entering through a corridor no wider than that of a regular ship's walkway. The walls lined of pipes and wiring, some of which transparent that let the respective blue and green light of the energy flowing through the craft's blood vessels brighten each corridor naturally.

"You say this ship is nuclear powered. What's glowing, then?" queried the Air Force lieutenant, curiously examining the luminescent wiring as he walked along.

The smile on Armet's muzzle grew with each question asked and once more began boastfully elaborating. "What you see is electricity in its purest form, powering every square inch of the Vengeance and, as soon as they are fully installed by the end of this week, its thirty-six individual weapons arrays."

"Weapons arrays?" Shadow furrowed an eyebrow.

"Long-range precision cannons and anti-aircraft, predominantly," Armet answered. "With the help of satellite targeting, there is no longer a need for visual contact in order to fire upon an enemy. If the fire controlponies cannot make out their target, the boys upstairs sure as hell can."

"I must say, all of this is... quite impressive so far. I just have one question that, I believe I can vouch for all four of us when I ask it; who is going to be controlling this thing?"

Armet came to a halt at the intersection of another passageway and turned around as the others stopped. He blinked a couple of times before saying, "Well, I would hope one of you might call the shots. It would be under Equestria's complete control on behalf of whoever wants it."

The officer representing the Lunar Marines narrowed his eyes slightly. "What would any of us need a flying warship for?" he gruffly remarked.

"In the event of war, Lieutenant General. It is to my understanding that there is no true threat posed to Equestrian soil, but the risk continues to lie out in the open. After the fiasco with Ajerstan, we don't know what their next move might be. They might tack the blame on us!" Armet drew in a soft breath to calm himself. "Gentlecolts, I do not credit myself as any sort of warfare expert, but I simply stress that our country needs to step up its game against external threats."

"You have valid reasoning to be concerned, Armet, and I respect that. We have gone over this a couple of times before. However, if you want my own personal opinion, having this in the skies will do nothing but brew conflict and welcome it to our coasts. Power such as this will invite challenge which breeds utter catastrophe," Shadow asserted, stepping forward. "This is fear-mongering. This is... showing the world that we're afraid, and this will let anyone out there seek faults in the system so they can carry out heinous intentions against innocents."

Eyes shifted to the naval captain, nodding in silent agreement to his notions as he carried on. "As much as I am in support of advancement in military technology, and how much I appreciate what you and your company are doing to take a leap in the right direction, I cannot stand behind the idea of this launching one day and children all around the world looking up in the sky and watching this thing cast a threatening shadow over their homes to where they live in fear of becoming a friendly fire statistic or are given the idea that so much as coughing or sneezing could lead to their death."

The hall fell completely silent, apart from muffled thumps and other commotion outside of the massive ship. In that moment, Shadow and Armet engaged in unwavering stares against one another. None were cold, as Shadow expressed concern more than any other emotion on his mien, with Armet returning a look of slight disappointment mixed with acknowledgement of the naval officer's stern and solid perturb.

"I'm afraid I must agree with Captain Shadow for right now," chimed the Army major, followed by a single nod of his Marine counterpart. There was a small silence as gazes turned to the slightly scrawny Air Force lieutenant, eager to hear his word. He briefly studied the ponies around him before giving his response.

"I, for one, am in favor of this craft," spoke Wind Rider, holding a hoof to his chest. "Knowing Commander Strider well enough, I believe I speak on behalf of him, as well."

Shadow's brow raised toward the lieutenant, mentally questioning the somewhat younger pegasus' mindset. Before the words could muster, he was ultimately cut off by Armet.

"Well, your thoughts are most certainly taken into consideration, gentlecolts. I still wish to change your minds as we move along. Now, shall we continue the tour?"

***

Pain. That describes all that could be felt in the first moments of consciousness. Like my time in boot camp, every muscle in my body ached, as if the entire day prior was spent exercising and nothing else. It hurt to merely move a limb. Hell, the throbbing of my heart caused pain on the surrounding skin, too.

Quiet grunts emerged as I eased myself upright after turning sideways. My wings sat partially extended with their feathers ruffled and in desperate need of a thorough preening, though that was far from my top priority at the moment. While one minute was spent adjusting to the soreness, the next shifted the focus to one question in particular; where the hell was I?

Upon first inspection, my initial guess told me it was a stockroom for manufacturing materials judging by all of the crates and overly-taped boxes sitting around the edges and on rusty shelves—some of which having already given way from deteriorating condition and the constant weight gradually pushing them to the breaking point. Seeing this racked a single conclusion to mind; abandoned. Probably should have seen that one coming.

I checked around, especially my hooves, for anything to hold me back and prevent escape. Much to my surprise, not even a strand of rope or shackles were attached to any part of me. This meant a couple of different possibilities; either this was all just a huge joke and my captors are hired guns by some of my friends and it just went a little too far, or somepony was too incompetent and forgot to restrain me. As the seconds ticked on by, the former quickly became less plausible in my head. Either way, I wasn't complaining—I could escape! As quietly as possible, that is.

Sliding off the old table, setting my hinds down first, one at a time to ensure little noise produced, followed by my forehooves. I didn't quite realize initially, but my zip-up I had on was missing. And my phone. Of course, it makes sense to get rid of the victim's phone so it can't be tracked one way or another.

I made sure to scope out my surroundings a second time before advancing out into the eerie, dusty, and poorly-lit corridor. If my captors were still here, I wouldn't take any chances nonchalantly strolling about this place and getting myself trapped... again.

The place was hot, even underground where I appeared to be judging by the all-cement construction. Of course, it was the middle of summer when the heat typically peaked out for the year. To my relief, it told me that I wouldn't freeze to death in minutes if I had to make a run from wherever I was. Though, I suppose succumbing to the elements would suit better than letting myself be tortured or executed on camera.

At the far end of the hall on my right was a stairwell shaft stretching one and a half, perhaps two stories up to what I assumed was the ground floor. I moved beneath the stairs to hide in the shadows and listen in for any activity above, where I stayed for a whole minute.

I would do it again to double check when I got to the top, though all seemed clear so far. With a silent, cautious step, I steadily climbed the stairs, halting a couple of times for a split second when a sound I didn't recognize as my own caught my attention. At the top of the stairs, I moved beside the walkway leading into a much larger room and propped myself against the wall, listening once more for another soul beyond that exit.

Letting off a low exhale to ready myself beforehand, I peeked around the corner. First thing I noted of was a couple more neatly-stacked sealed wooden crates and three sets of what appeared to be train tracks in rough condition, telling me more about the building. Despite sunlight flooding in from above, a high roof covered the large room. Carefully, I continued out of the stairwell.

Chains hanging from the rafters creepily clinked, swaying in an upper-level breeze streaming near the ceiling. Plant life had begun to spring up through cracks in the foundation, and dust collected along the fractured concrete and old, rusting railway tracks from years of neglect. A pair of sliding warehouse doors to let trains out of the complex sat with a couple of inches to spare above the rails, bound together by heavy chains and an industrial lock potentially only breakable through the use of construction pliers.

The skylights were mostly broken or badly scuffed with a reddish-brown dirt. Rays of sunlight flooding in illuminated squared and rectangular tiles along the center of the old facility, shining atop a couple of old freight carriages. The light itself also revealed just how dusty the place was, as the concentrated beams themselves stretching to the ceiling were foggy in nature, and even from afar, I could easily discern a thick collection of particles floating about.

From a distance, after looking back at the sliding doors, even then I could tell that they hadn't been tampered with in some time—likely to give the false appearance that no one has been here and convince anyone who just so happens to be searching the area, wherever this place was located, that I wasn't here. Without a key or chain pliers, there was no way that would be my way out, nor the staff door beside it.

Looking back up towards the ceiling, I studied the overall integrity of the skylights and contemplated an exit. Only then did I curse mentally and glance over my shoulder to set upon my folded up wings, staring questionably at them. Now might not have been the prime moment to make an attempt at flying out of here, although it appeared to be my only option in that instance as any floor exit was likely locked or possibly guarded by enemies. Strangely enough, I had yet to spot any hostiles since waking. That came off as highly peculiar.

Making up my mind after no more than a few seconds of calculated musing, I drew a deep breath into my lungs and slid my left hind leg backwards as I shifted into a new stance. Spreading out my wings to full length, I swiveled and moved them around to loosen their muscles. All this time of no use added to the achiness spanning across my form leads to risk of a cramp, which could prove deadly in flight. No use in escaping if I wind up killing myself in the process.

I honed my steady sights onto one of the broken skylights above, one with plenty of room to fly out through should my takeoff be unstable. When the moment came, I leaped upwards, aided by a single flap of my wings that kicked up a cloud of dirt. I felt myself climbing quickly and saw freedom closer than ever, but it wasn't more than a second when I realized I had failed and tumbled from the roughly ten feet in the air I reached, coming crashing down on my face and chest with my hinds and rear stuck in mid-air.

The impact forced every bit of air out and muffled my hearing to where only my own ailing grunts could be heard. Slowly, the rest of my body fell over with a thump on the lukewarm cement and I lay essentially motionless there, dazed from the crash landing and even more sore than prior.

I couldn't be sure just how long I stayed down. Time slowly passed as I tried to regain partial control over my senses and make a feeble attempt to get back on my hooves. Every muscle in my body burned with the painful rage of fifteen fires, especially in my arms and hooves when I rolled myself upright and began shakily lifting off the dusty concrete. First my forehooves, followed by my hinds, I finally stood. Wobbly and shaken, but stable enough to not collapse.

A chill ran up my spine, causing a shiver that quaked the dirt off my coat and ruffled my feathers. I sighed softly, looking back at my wings, then up at the skylight once more. Frankly, the courage to try again simply wasn't with me. I couldn't fly, I knew that already. So why did I try to?

Click. "Not a step forward, not a step back."

I froze, a shocked breath escaping my maw. My eyes went wide as saucers. Slowly and steadily, I peeked back over my shoulder, only to find the barrel of a handgun aimed for my forehead, wielded by a bandana-wearing earth pony donning a heavy vest, probably ballistic, with a sheathed knife on his right hoof.

"Now, just what were you trying to do, fly out of here without saying goodbye?"

***

Soft grunts of effort emanated from the moss-green stallion at each gentle lift he gave of the sixty-pound weights suspended carefully by just his two forehooves. He counted each push mentally and was already nearing the two-hundred mark, with a goal to reach five hundred by his session's end.

It was well past his usually-set time to sleep—three hours, to be precise. But after accidentally motivating himself through countless instructional videos on his personal laptop, and relieved to know tomorrow was the start of his weekend, Ashfall felt he had no choice but to further work on building up his strength and endurance. He was determined to set a new record for himself, whether or not he would achieve that goal tonight.

However, the night wasn't willing to let that happen. When a loud, borderline banging knock startled him, Ash threw the weights onto the bar rack above his head and sat upright. Sweat drenched his dark blue undershirt, leaving a damp mark running down his chest from his neck. He reached over to his nightstand, tapping the pause button on his music player, silencing it as he snatched up a small cloth and wiped down his face with a few dabs of the cold, wet towel, before strolling to the door and peeking through the little hole to see who was outside.

He lurched back when the greyish-white pegasus on the other side slammed his hoof three more times in a desperate attempt to grab his attention, unaware that he had already snatched it. Ash took the lock in his hoof and twisted it, then pulled the door inward. "Spare the door, will you?" he rolled his eyes. "What is it?"

"They—they... they took Star!" panted Anchorage, his form quaking all across.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," Ash motioned his hoof. "Come inside."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Anchorage hurried in past the Marine. Ash closed the door behind them, locking it, studying the pegasus briefly and noting of the severe distress he was in.

He picked up his water bottle from the side of his workout bench and offered it to his sailor comrade, who after a split second of silence, snatched it from his hoof and guzzled half of its icy, refreshing contents in seconds while Ash observed, a look of concern plastered across his countenance. "What happened to Star?"

Anchorage slapped the bottle down on the floor and drew in a deep gulp of air to account for the seconds spent not breathing while he drank. His chest heaved, still strictly catching his breath from the non-stop sprint. His icy blue eyes met the rose-shaded cores of Ash's, frightened unlike any look he has seen before. In his head, he knew in that instance just how serious the situation was. Fear rarely affected the pegasus sailor beyond the boundaries of his needle phobia, and seeing him act this way only made the moment more tense.

"It's... all a blur, man. W-we found somepony in an alleyway on our way back from the pub, and... I turn around as he's callin' for help, and he gets s-struck down. I w-went to help, then I went down, too." At this point, the pegasus' bloodshot eyeballs glazed over with forming tears in his ducts. "I thought I heard them say something about how I wasn't important before I passed out, and when I woke up... he was gone!"

Ash swiveled his ears backwards, dipping his head slightly. His tone became abruptly stern as his expression turned dour. "Did anypony come? Have you reported it yet?"

Anchorage quickly shook his head. "No one came, they took his phone. For all I know, they might have told them it was a prank call and hung up!"

"Anchorage—did you report it yourself?"

A lump formed in the sailor's throat, blocking the words from emerging. Slowly, he bobbed his head in a nod and finally mustered the strength to speak with a low volume. "To military police. They... tested me for alcohol, and they disregarded it." He sighed sharply, closing his eyes. "I'm not drunk anymore, I must've slept it off, but there's still enough in my system for them to consider me under the influence!"

"Okay, okay," Ash motioned his hoof for Anchorage to stop. "Take a deep breath."

The pegasus stared crazy-eyed for a few moments. Finally, he followed his friend's words and straightened his still-shaky posture and sucked some air into his lungs, then exhaled deeply and wiped his eyes with a hoof. "I don't know what they'd want with him, Ash... he hasn't done anything wrong to my knowledge!"

"I'm with you there." Ash nodded in concurrence, tapping his chin as he engaged in thought. "Hang on, you said you found somepony in an alley, and he tried calling for help?"

Anchorage reopened his red, puffy eyes, nodding slowly. "Y-yes, and you won't believe this when I say it."

"I'll try my best," Ash shrugged.

"It was... the captain. The Alder captain. Remember him?"

Ash's eyes shot wide open. "Do I? Yes. That was the night my platoon sergeant took a stretcher to the face and I thought I was gonna lose him." His ears pinned back, gaze lowering as he started to think again. "But... why? And how? That was months ago when the Alder sank and we saved him and his crew..." Ash stopped, looking up. "...and those griffons ambushed us."

Anchorage recoiled his head. "But they weren't griffons that took Star."

"Because maybe they weren't the bad guys that night. We were."

"What... do you mean?" Anchorage cocked his head slightly.

Ash waved his hoof around. "Maybe there was something on that ship that they were trying to destroy, maybe it was a threat to them, and we thwarted their plans. Maybe the crew wasn't who we thought they were."

"So it was a setup." Anchorage stomped his hoof out of rage. "Damn it, it makes sense now!"

"What does?"

"A couple weeks ago, I stopped by a friend's office at the Port of Manehattan, had her do some research on the Alder's payload. She looked it up, I watched her, the Alder was recorded to have been scrapped eight years ago after an incident caused irreparable hull damage, but I know that was the ship we were on that night!"

"So, it was running under the radar..."

"Doin' dirty work..."

"And those griffons were trying to stop it and take out the crew..."

"And we helped them escape..." Anchorage finished, looking up. "Then someone leaves the captain to die to set up a trap for me and Star, and they take him. But why only him?"

"I... don't know," Ash shook his head. It was all a lot to take in, and there were still pieces missing.

"Oh, god, Ash..." Anchorage looked off to the side, putting a hoof on his forehead as anxiety for his kidnapped friend bubbled up in his chest. "What are we goin' to do?"

Ash set a gentle hoof on the pegasus' shoulder. The gesture made him jump, only to then settle down when the two made steady eye contact, putting down his hoof from his forehead. The moss-green stallion wore an assertive look on his face, affirming to Anchorage, "If M.P. won't listen, we'll seek somepony who will. We'll hunt these bastards down with what we know, and we'll bring our friend home. Trust me."

***

Soothing glows of alternating color filled the penthouse, basking the open room in golds, oranges, and even some blues. Droplets of rain trickled steadily down the floor-to-ceiling window panes, creating spots of grey that shadowed over the interior or refracted the city light to create a wondrous spectacle inside the three-story housing quarters.

From his personal bar in the kitchen, the sole occupant of the penthouse suspended a green and gold-wrapped bottle mid-air, tipping it just enough to gently pour himself a glass of white wine, filling it half way, before capping off the bottle and placing it back in its rightful slot in the refrigerated rack above the counter and closing the sliding glass panel, in turn automatically switching off the light wall installed behind the wooden fixtures.

Carrying the glass in a sparkling magical grip, the maroon unicorn strode composedly to the window overlooking lower Manehattan. A fog of rain caressed the buildings below, shrouding the infamous Trotterdam Tower, now no longer the tallest structure in the city for almost half a year since the GenTech building's topping-out. The skies above flashed electrically with bolts of lightning, stretching out like furious arms across the cloud ceiling, while some made contact with a couple of the antenna towers atop some of the city's numerous skyscrapers.

A smile pursed the lips of the unicorn, showing clearly his true demeanor. He lifted his glass and took the smallest of swigs, followed by another, proceeding to then swirl the contents of his glass around gently afterwards.

The small watch on his wrist lit up to the screen of an incoming call. He tapped the button to answer, holding his hoof up in front of him as a blue gridded holographic picture of a stallion's face sprung up from the little screen. "The job has been done, Boss. Just like you asked," said the deeply-toned pony.

"You have Corporal Star Shooter?"

"The blue one? Yes, sir. The distraction worked impeccably. He wasn't much trouble, either—drunk as a skunk, in fact."

Armet let off a soft, dark chuckle. "Excellent. Great work. Let me know if you get anything out of him."

"Yes, sir," the stallion nodded. He threw up a salute just moments before the hologram faded back into the watch.

Setting his hoof down, Armet gazed back over the stormy city, blinking slowly. The sinister smile on his muzzle remained small, yet apparent. He brought the wine glass to his lips once more to savor the bitterness of his relaxing beverage, which only grew sweeter as a result of the news.

41. The Calm Before the Storm - Part I

The vest-wearing sentinel shoved the gun to the back of my head, shouting, "Move!" His booming voice reverberated about the corridor and the stairwell as I unwillingly led the way down, maintaining a steady walking speed and ensuring to avoid any movement that might end with a bullet in my skull.

One or two times would I peek over my shoulder to be sure I was going exactly as ordered, and each time he would painfully force his pistol's barrel into my ear, in turn causing me to lurch forward to stay a few paces head of him. Doing so would keep me alive just a tad longer.

"In there," he snarled. I stopped, peering back at him. He motioned his gun to the second door down on the right. "Move it. Now."

Nodding as a show of acknowledgement, I kept moving until we reached the specific corridor. The moment I stepped hoof in the door jam, I froze in my tracks. Sitting on the floor, lined up against the wall with their hooves zip-tied behind their backs were a collection of five almost equally-built stallions, two or three of which still donning their dirty, torn uniforms. A couple of them had bloody rags stuffed in their mouths, preventing speech. Most of which were teary-eyed, and all around absolutely terrified. At some point very soon I would reach their level of angst, too, if not already.

"Get in there!" the pony commanded, giving a forceful push with his hoof. In that instance, I haven't the slightest of clues as to why, but my at-sea instincts kicked in and so did my boat legs. The shove added to my hooves locking up sent me tumbling to the floor, only to be snatched back up painfully by my mane at the will of a pure golden aura casting and tossed against the cement wall.

I bellowed a deep grunt upon impact and slid to a rest on the floor right on my flanks, where a pair of goons promptly held me still while a third quickly bound my forehooves first, followed by my hinds, before leaving me sitting upright beside the other captives, our backs to the wall.

As they finished up and withdrew, the stallion to have caught me stepped in their place, his sights glaringly set upon me. "Now, you shall do exactly as we say, when we say it, or we'll tear every last limb of your body off as slowly and painfully as you can possibly imagine, then we'll do worse."

***

"All right, Petty Officer, since you insist this couldn't wait, tell me. What happened to Corporal Star Shooter?" Shadow pressed his hooves together in a steeple, steadily eyeballing the shaky northern pegasus.

Across the table centered in the all-white room sat Anchorage, wearing a bowl-like hat wired to his temples with extensions taped along his chest and hooves. The small space was blindingly bright to the point where either pony suffered from light-induced headaches only two minutes after first stepping in and taking their seats, and was sided off on one wall with privacy glass that reflected the interior. The walls were padded similarly to an insane asylum, albeit for sound reduction.

Anchorage's left hoof tapped the tabletop out of nervous habit while his opposite jittered. His respiratory patterns were notably abnormal as suggested by chest movements. Shadow could tell the stallion was anxious about something, and what little information he had gotten out of him before agreeing to sit down in private had been enough to nab his undivided attention. It was even the petty officer's suggestion that he be hooked up to a polygraph and tested in a way that the captain could read the device's responses to everything he would soon say down to the bare words.

"We... we were..." he began, only to pause and take a somewhat noisily sip of water from the cup in front of him. Upon setting it back down, he continued. "We were on our way home from a night out at a local pub, talkin' and stuff, when w-we stumbled across some groaning in an alleyway. I told him to stay put and went in to check, and..." Anchorage nervously chuckled. "It may sound weird when I say it, but... I found the captain of the Alder, alone, dying on the ground."

Shadow's maw parted as he was about to counter the sailor's claims, but was ultimately silenced by a little green light and the tiniest of beeps emanating from the reader to the side of them. It signaled he was being truthful, much to the earth pony captain's surprise and now bewilderment. His dark brown cores lifted from the machine, meeting the icy blue irides of his subordinate. "Continue."

Anchorage inhaled to refresh his system, removing the tapping hoof and setting it on his thigh. "So, he is foaming at the mouth. Poisoned, I suspect. I yell at Star for him to call for help. I look up again, he's getting knocked down on the ground. I go to help him, same thing happens to me," he said with a shaky breath. "I wake up maybe two hours later where I was, no sign of Star, no sign of the captain."

For a second time, Shadow glanced over at the reader, and again, the results came back as positive. He acknowledged the notion that lie detector tests could, in fact, be manipulated, although that was typically the case for unicorns with the ability to conjure up a spell able to mask the basic needs to detect whether a pony is lying or not. Machines advanced enough to counteract these spells were still very far and few in between.

Despite the machine's readings, Shadow still took the opportunity to question. "You say you found the captain of the P.T.S. Alder in that alleyway, how can you be so certain it—"

The pegasus leaned forward, both hooves placed beside one another. He stared gravely right at the naval officer. "It was him, Captain. Even with very little light to go by, I made out his facial features. His voice, too."

To Shadow, something still didn't add up. "We sent him home back in April, roughly two weeks after the incident. Based on what I have heard since then, he is on administrative leave with the shipping company in charge of what used to be his vessel."

"I-I am aware of that!" snapped Anchorage, immediately prompting him to recoil and dip his head shamefully. "I can't explain it myself, but he was here. I'm tellin' you, he was!"

One other thing Shadow picked up on quickly was the fact that Anchorage's eyes would periodically dart between him and a security camera in one of the ceiling corners at his five o'clock, leading to hesitation. He furrowed an eyebrow slightly.

Noticing this sent the greyish-white pegasus into a fear and rage-induced frenzy. "What more do you want from me, god damn it?!" cried Anchorage, gesturing both of his hooves to his chest. "I realize fully this isn't enough to base around without witnesses, but we're running out of time!"

Shadow calmly motioned his hoof for the pegasus to curb his tone, temporarily placating his fellow sailor. "I'm afraid there isn't much we can do without eyewitness accounts or, really, anything else, Petty Officer."

A total breakdown on Anchorage's part was far from a common sight, or even the slightest signs of such. As he recalled, the last time it occurred was the sudden death of his father, but never had Shadow been around to witness. His service to Equestria shadowed the name switch to the Lunar Navy by five months, and in these six years come January, Anchorage's record retained a spotless track that only twenty percent of all active sailors preserved. He knew his stuff, Shadow had to credit him for that.

The pegasus rested his head face-down on the scratched and faintly dented metallic surface, looping both hooves around his head and the bowl-like hat atop his crown. His breaths were heavy and brief mixed with wet sniffling. With every exhale, he would shiver. Desperation was officially beginning to set in for only the second time in his life. First military police, and now it seemed as though his own commanding officer refused to take the situation into consideration.

After a few lengthy moments, Anchorage lifted his head to reveal the white of his eyes tinting a faint shade of pink. His hooves drenched with his own tears, and a strong inhale sucked in the snot running from his nostrils. He reached up and gently removed the taped wires and helmet, placing them off to the side, before making direct eye contact with Shadow.

"I'm sorry for wastin' your time, sir," he said quietly, voice becoming moderately hoarse in nature. He slid his chair back and stood to make his way out.

Shadow watched the pegasus stand before following suit and opening the door for Anchorage. "Please, allow me." Anchorage pinned his ears back and swallowed a heavy lump in his throat, unhurriedly looping around the interrogation table. "May I speak with you in private?" muttered Shadow, placing his hoof on Anchorage's shoulder as he slipped past.

The pegasus quickly halted at the touch of the captain's hoof, blinking as he turned his head. With a single bob of his head, he continued out ahead of Shadow, pacing himself to allow him to catch up.

***

A deep gasp drew in much-needed air to my lungs, as if I had been underwater for a prolonged period of time. My breaths settled only a little after shooting up from the cold, black floor. Cautiously I gazed around me, scanning the space for any immediate danger. None was discernible, yet I could not help but feel an overbearing sense that something was lurking among the dark that surrounded me.

I jumped to all fours and continued to look around. Someone—or something—was out there, and not once did I take a second to consider the possibility that I might have been blowing the situation out of proportion. Yet, despite managing to rile down my nerves, the adrenaline never ceased. With each passing second, it worsened. I lowered myself into a defensive stance in preparation for almost anything at that point without a clue of what to expect.

"Show yourself..." I mumbled, fixating solely on the empty space ahead. Being where my senses told me it was coming from, I bid the majority of my attention in that general direction while also minding my sides and rear in case they were tricking me again.

It was already starting off like those nightmares over the last few months. Darkness all around, excluding the whispering voices with no coherence whatsoever. At any moment I expected to reappear in a dying city street and be unable to dodge a sniper bullet that would surely end it all. At least it wasn't hard to figure out that this is not reality.

My ears stood up as they latched on to the gentle clicking of one pony's hooves drawing closer from ahead. As they neared, I honed in on a faint yellow lantern-like glow gradually swelling in intensity, and prepared myself for anything. But what appeared effectively caught me off guard.

Like an angel he was, his form glowed a brighter shade than his wheat-colored coat and blond mane combined, lighting a circular patch around him. His wings extended magnificently from both sides, perfectly preened down to the last feather, and the stallion's deep emerald cores shimmered under his own light. He approached with a nonchalant step, pulling up some six feet short of where I stood. I steadily straightened my posture as shock took hold of my essence, saying with the breath taken away from me, "Ray?"

In my present predicament, seeing Ray was... an enormous relief. It left me with a sense of security that he was safe and sound, albeit without the knowledge of what happened to me, or what might happen. Worse yet, I realized he might not ever. Those feelings reflected on my outward appearance, which the memory quietly discerned immediately. A look of evident worry permeated the golden pegasus' countenance.

"Star..." Ray spoke quietly. His ears' perk faltered as he took a few steps closer, up until he and I were practically muzzle to muzzle. It was now when I realized he somehow gained a few inches on me, though it was already to my half-cogent attention that this was the dreamscape—if anything, Ray and I were roughly the same height if standing side by side. Unless this was in fact some sort of alternate reality I was thrown in to, there is no plausible explanation behind the height difference other than how much more perfect it would make him than he already riveted.

My lips pursed into a glower when it struck me, and down tipped my chin along with my gaze. I had nothing to say in return. There was no point, none at all. That, however, did not stop him from lifting my head with his hoof slowly and gently. Tears sat in my eyes, glazing across my crimson irides with a noticeable film. For as much as I loved his touch, to see his face one more time, it hurt twice that. My last time seeing Ray Blitz, and it was in my dreams.

The stallion's mouth curled into a warm smile. Despite his drooped ears, he retained a sliver of happiness, as if he was presently aware of the situation and did so knowing it might keep my hopes up and prevent my composure from breaking under the pressure of captivity. He tilted his head left an inch and leaned his muzzle closer, ever so slowly. My body grew tenser by the second, and hesitantly, I leaned back toward him and shut my eyes. Time seemed to slow as our lips closed distance. I could only feel it now.

For a moment—only a moment—it felt real. All of it did. However, before either of us had the chance, the gesture was ultimately cut off by an absolutely frigid blast of water splashing across my face. I choked and gasped, sitting as far upright as my bound hooves allowed.

My now-soaked mane instantaneously stuck on like a layer of glue had been applied to it and to my muzzle. It sat partially covering one of my eyes like a curtain of sky blue until I jerked my head to the side, letting it slap back against the side of my forehead with a wet smack. I dashed my sights around in a briefly-panicked state before setting them upon a masked earth pony, different from the one from before, setting down a metal tub with a wet trail leading back to it as remaining droplets pattered off the side.

Any reactions went unnoticed under the screaming cries produced by the second unicorn to my left. He writhed, clenching his teeth, breathing sharply through his nostrils as the icy water seeped into gory open lacerations and other wounds spreading from his hooves and shoulders to his chest and throat, some of which visible only through slashes and cuts in his tattered uniform sleeves. From my standpoint—or sitting in my case—I could only wincingly imagine the pain surging through his body right about now, and his injured howls tough to stomach by itself left my skin crawling only more.

"Wakey, wakey, jarheads," came a roughened voice from beyond the doorway. Metallic clanking accompanied the echoing click of hooves in the adjacent corridor, only ceasing when who the soft noises belonged to strolled through. Merely his looks sent a wave of fear sweeping across every pony present—even what I assumed to be his own hired guns occupying the small room. Each of the masked sentries stood at attention in acknowledgement of his entrance.

The stallion in question donned a long trench coat that trained over his flanks, coming a mere two inches short of dragging along the floor at his hinds. A wide-brim brown leather stetson to match his jacket sat atop his crown, shadowing the entirety of his face down to the first button. His sleeves, had they not been neatly rolled once, would have had extra length on his hooves, and what was visible of them sent a chill up my spine. His right hoof was almost entirely metal—not a layer of prototype armor, but physically metal. A prosthetic. The thin spaces separating the plating revealed wiring, a rolling joint for the hoof itself, and two inexplicable blue lights. GenTech blue.

Apart from soft whimpering and the occasional clank of the cloaked figure's prosthetic hoof and the clops of his other hooves against the solid concrete in slow strides, the room was eerily silent. Those of us not blindfolded observed him carefully, scrutinizing his mysterious form. Nothing directly beneath his stetson was visible to the naked eye against the room's lighting, though it was evident that his furious eyes glared right back at us individually.

This changed when his head turned, shifting all attention to the guards positioned at random. With a low grumble, he commented, "Again with the damn masks! Y'all think it'll matter if they see yer faces or not? The boss don't want us keepin' 'em to September, who'll they tell?"

***

"Why are we at the ship?" queried Anchorage, walking alongside his commanding officer and eyeballing the massive carrier.

"Best place to talk without anypony to eavesdrop. Nopony's on board yet for weekly cleaning rounds, so we should be fine for an hour or two. Come," Shadow motioned his head, leading the pegasus to a narrow walkway leading up to a starboard hatch left wide open for the mentioned routines.

The greenish-grey earth stallion led the bewildered pegasus through three individual passageways to his personal quarters on the far opposite, port side of the ship. He ensured to scour their surroundings in case his previous judgement turned out to be incorrect, but once he was certain they were alone, he brought Anchorage inside, closing the hatch behind them to further soundproof their conversation.

Shadow looped around the side of his work station and lowered himself almost completely to the floor, where he reached beneath the desk to a surge protector and promptly switched it off, cutting power to the desktop computer securely bolted on top. It was to his awareness that they mind any piece of technology present capable of monitoring their discussions should someone tap into the system unwarranted.

"Now..." he began, minding his head and the edge of the desk on his way back up. "As Captain of the Eclipse, and in the years since my first deployment commanding this ship, I suppose you could say I have picked up a few new traits here and there—one of those being the ability to point out behavioral changes among my crew. I could see in that interrogation chamber that behind everything you said back there wasn't merely half of what was on your mind."

A small patch of scruff on the back of Anchorage's neck stood on end, concealed only by the pegasus' navy mane. He grew slightly stiff, stood before the captain's desk, which went immediately noticed by Shadow and only contributed to the subject. This time, it was Anchorage's turn to regard his commanding officer's acknowledgement of his posture.

He knew it was just them in that room, and probably the whole ship, yet that didn't prevent Anchorage from feeling a sense of apprehension before he gave his response. "I think we might have been targeted. He, might have been targeted."

"That might explain why you weren't taken as well," Shadow tapped his hoof gently on the wooden surface. "Were you... aware at all of any strange activities Star might have taken part in?"

Anchorage firmly shook his head. "No, Captain—"

Shadow raised his hoof to cut the pegasus off. "For this instance, and this instance only unless I say so in the future, refer to me by my name. We may be at work, but I give you permission to wave the formality here."

The comment hit Anchorage with a tidal wave of confusion, completely throwing him off. He blinked a couple of times, nodding shortly after. "Yes, Shadow. Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Now, continue?"

Anchorage drew in a much-needed breath of relief to ease his aching muscles. "There was a lot I couldn't tell you in there, Shadow. I know you said we were alone there, too, but somepony is still watchin' somewhere. I don't think there are many souls we can put our trust in with this information right now."

Shadow nodded in acknowledgement. "I understand," he said, patting a chair opposite of his desk. "Have a seat, there is absolutely no need to stand. Trust me when I say there aren't any cameras around here. There's plenty of time to go around, so tell me everything you know, and we'll work with it."

The pegasus blinked slowly. He now felt relaxed to be under the supervision of somepony he knew he could trust, providing a sense of security lacked before now. Stiffening his spine as he stretched, he started, "This is probably a silly place to begin, but..." Anchorage chuckled softly. "We have to go back to the very beginning, where I believe it is safe to say this all started at," he added, putting his hooves on the desk and leaning forward. "So, the Alder..."

Author's Note

I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out. It was a last minute decision to ultimately split up this chapter into the next one.

42. The Calm Before the Storm - Part II

"Eenie, meenie, miney..." the stetson-wearing earth stallion moved nonchalantly down the line, holding out in his hoof an electrified baton, pointing at each one of us until coming to a halt in front of the second to last down the line and made direct eye contact. A baleful leer took form across his muzzle. "...You."

At his word, the pony selected began thrashing and squirming, pitifully begging the opposite. I tugged weakly at the zip ties in the feeble hope of straining the plastic to the point of escaping to try and save him, as well as the others, but that simply wasn't possible. Two sentries snatched him up and carried him through a doorway to our right, all while he continuously pleaded to be freed. Based on the last victim, whom now lay lifeless and without much of his color on the floor across the room, it was safe to say there was a general idea of just what they were going to do to every pony they could get their hooves on—and that was to steal their magic.

One particular detail I hadn't initially noticed was that every one of the other captives were unicorns. It didn't make much sense as to why I was the only pegasus there, though it only added to the fear compressed like a can of air in my chest, pushing with hundreds of pounds of weight. What are they going to do to me? I don't have magic to spare. I'm not a unicorn. What did I do to deserve this end? My own feelings surely would kill me before they get the chance to.

Bloodcurdling screams emanating from the adjacent torture room sent cold chills collectively racing up countless spines. Each despairing wail struck as more harrowing as the seconds ticked on by as slow as one could imagine, only to be later drowned out by what sounded like magic being cast. A couple of the other captives sat statue still, zoning out or silently crying as they too awaited the inevitable, yet neither of our captors, as cold and bent on ill-wishes to us as they were, seemed moved in the slightest. I doubt it could legitimately be expected of them.

My mind raced, processing hundreds of thoughts a second it seemed like. Through the chaos, I wasn't at all sure what to focus on, other than the fact that I knew I wouldn't make it out of here alive. There was no way. Not once did they untie us for anything, not even for what little food and water they provided. It was them who fed us, and even then it was gruesome for a couple of the others who weakly gave a go at headbutting their way out, only to be dragged off and beaten relentlessly by multiple shock batons.

Despite barely maintaining a cool composure externally thanks to a rather short training process after basic, deep down, a kind of passive panic had long set in. My mind began to think back; particularly to past recollections and little events in between. I thought about boot camp and how nervous I was there, how I believed one wrong move would send me packing with no second chance at redemption. I went on to reminisce over simply how much hatred I locked inside with a rusty chain for that place and myself for putting me through that situation, but only now I realize I will never think of it the same again. I'd already grown to love it as the memories flashed through my mind, positive or negative. If the choice was my own, I would take it in a heartbeat over this gloomy place a million times over.

It had been a few days since I first woke up at the least. With too much of a clutter sending my mind into overdrive, my track of time abruptly suspended subsequently. All of it seemed to move along so slowly. It couldn't have been over a week, yet no less than. For all I know, I might have only been here a few hours. It felt like an absolute eternity sitting in one place all hours of the day, unable to so much as shuffle my hooves or wings around, except to try and shift into a less miserable position to prevent my limbs from ultimately falling asleep.

The ties binding my hooves left marks in my coat and were beginning to rub the skin raw after just a couple of days, though the resulting pain wasn't nearly my primary concern, nor the highest amounts of aching I have ever felt throughout my body from staying particularly still for this long. Not even on evenings after a nine hour statue-still, no-muscle-movement-allowed post in the frigid, pouring rain do I find myself this sore. If I ever do have the freedom of moving around some time soon, in the near future at all, standing up again will certainly come to be a challenge.

On top of that, to say we were being starved would be exaggerating a little, though it didn't take a genius like Starswirl to discern a faint loss of weight over time. Our captors had been feeding us once, sometimes twice a day depending on how quiet the less healthy were—mostly with old, stale ingredients. But hey, food is food. If it keeps me alive a little bit longer, until the becoming-unlikely rescue comes, I'll take it.

It was to my understanding that stored body fat helps in temporary situations where a lack of food is prevalent, and I cursed mentally once more for joining the Marines knowing all of that is essentially washed away at basic. Now it had me wishing I'd joined the Navy, or even the Air Force for their low standards. Then again, things would have been so much different, and I would have never come to know any of the ponies I have since called my best friends, or even my brothers.

Alas, these thoughts don't sustain much significance right now. Despite maintaining a sense of hope that help might come soon, it gradually dwindled with the notion that they might not have a clue where to search, or that they might be too late, and anypony in their right mind knew yelling wouldn't do us any justice. We so much as speak, even if it's a whisper between one another, we get beaten; either by hooves or their batons, with or without the electrical current. Large swelling bruises plagued along my shoulders and chest, though admittedly, not quite as many as I assumed the others bore.

After long, the stallion's crying ceased entirely, as did the noises resulting in the victim's magical energy—and possibly also his life—being practically and gruesomely torn from his essence. The situation in all wasn't too dissimilar to Tirek's rampage last year that affected most if not all unicorns, but also pegasi and earth ponies, albeit on a significantly smaller scale.

No matter how you look at it, they are still killing innocents for their magic, whatever their intended use may be. These were once foals of proud parents, prouder when they grew up to become what they are today, now held against their will and tormented over something so petty as their spirit so that somepony else, whoever it may be, is undeserving of such power. I hadn't put much thought into it out of fear for my own life and my fellow Marines, though it was evident that these ponies had something bigger in mind if this is what they were collecting and why they needed us so desperately.

I closed my eyes in hopes of passing the time. Although it might not do much in my favor, if anything, hopefully it would bring the total closure of the situation sooner. It can't have been more than ten minutes after the screams stopped when the oil trench coat-donning, stetson-wearing stallion entered. The noise of his metal hoof clicking gently along as he walked up to a table made me open my eyes and watch him in utter silence.

To a bit of my surprise, the coat he donned previously went absent, only sporting the stetson atop his crown. Doing so exposed his physique; orange-brass fur, the average build of an earth stallion, especially of his presumed origin from somewhere down south, and fully revealing the true scope of his disability. In this case, it might have been an advantage for him. Below his shoulder sat an embroidered insignia-like symbol in center of one of the outer steel plates of his prosthetic hoof, one that almost immediately rang a bell in my mind.

"That emblem..." I panted out softly. Little utilizable energy as a result of malnutrition and a severe lack of proper sleep was taking its toll on my ability to speak without slurring out incoherent words. "Equestrian Army. 8th Pararescue Division." I don't know how I recognized it as quickly as I did in my present state of mind. "You served?"

The stallion glanced up from the table, setting his sights upon me and blinking a couple of times before nodding curtly, seemingly taken aback by my discernment, and also moderately annoyed by the fact a part of his identity was picked out. "Ah did. Many years ago. Until one day my hoof met its timely fate to a rusty ol' hacksaw in a cold ass shed."

For some odd reason, this story came off as familiar, but I couldn't quite set my hoof on it with so little information to go by. "Captured?" I poked further.

The question brought a low, disapproving grunt out of him, but another nod thereafter and a curt response. "Yes."

Now curiosity had fully taken over, exceeding much of the persisting lethargy for once. "So... w-why?"

"Why, what?" he blinked slowly.

"Why betray your own country like this? There definitely isn't any going back at this point."

The stallion shifted to face me directly but didn't approach. "Ah didn't betray my country, my country betrayed me."

My head cocked left slightly, puzzled. "How? How did it betray you?"

"Ya wouldn't understand," he answered coldly, turning his attention back to the table.

"I don't understand right this second. How vague you are being doesn't help me figure it out, either. I'm simply curious as to why a former soldier is holding what he should proudly consider fellow serviceponies hostage and torturing them in a dry-ass basement, then killing them for Celestia knows what for!"

The stallion clenched his teeth in frustration, tossing a brief glare of sharpened daggers my way. "Just shut the fuck up, already. Ah have had enough of ya speakin'."

"Don't leave us in the dark like this! If you're going to fucking kill us at some point, give us a damn reason why you are doing this!" I yelled, sitting forward as much as I could. My throat burned immediately after as a result of the room's dryness and lack of flowing air. Despite my demands, he kept quiet and proceeded to tune me out. "Motherfucker, I asked you a fucking question! Answer it, asshole!"

At that, it set him off at last. "They done did me dirty! This blasted country and its ass-backwards coordination has done nothin' but do me dirty!" he snapped, thrusting his steel hoof through the cement, cracking and indenting the floor an inch beyond the edges of the limb. He swiped it forward, snatching me by the throat and drawing me mere inches from his muzzle, glaring his furious, fiery orange irides down upon my form intimidatingly. The worst part about him was definitely his breath that complimented his southern drawl.

"Ah was screwed over, right from the moment they put me under for emergency surgery to the day ah was discharged for being 'unfit for service'!" he shouted into my face, only easing off his hold just slightly when he calmed himself. "Ya wouldn't understand, youngin'. Ya might the day ya suffer a similar fate and they suddenly no longer have a use for ya, take that with a grain of salt."

His blinks were long and slow, stare unwavering upon me. My crimson irides widened with alarm when he made direct eye contact. Like the gunnery sergeant at basic, it was as if his stabbing gaze sought out my essence, the blaze of vengeance in his fiery cores and pitch-black scowl eating away at it like a hungry leech.

"Ah've seen ponies like ya in my day." He removed his face from my own, but refused to let go of my throat. "Young, naive, thirst for adventure, think ya own the world. But to put it short, y'all are flat out stupid. Oblivious to reality. All yer fancy-schmancy computers, yer phones, portable music players, all that other shit ya use in yer everyday life is fuckin' with ya understandin' of the real world.

"Ya know how much it sickens me, knowin' all these foals are bein' raised by fools? Seein' ponies left, right, and center bein' told the world is perfect when it ain't? They're all sheep! You are all sheep!" He threw his hoof down, tossing me to the floor on my rump, where I fell over with a pained grunt. The force was enough to where it felt as though my tailbone had been broken as a result.

He walked a few paces away, only to stop in his tracks and turn his head back at me indirectly, left alone in the middle of the floor and still writhing in pain with the breath taken out of me. "Y'all ain't aware of it, but each and every one of ya is the reason shit's fallin' apart nowadays. Too busy stuffin' yer noses in celebrity affairs in Applewood while sippin' on yer twenty-bit mocha lattes to open yer eyes up to what's really happenin'."

Setting his other hoof on the table, he gazed down upon it. Both ears faltered, one pinning back slightly. "When ah finally got the benefits check ah rightfully deserved a year later, ah cut myself off from the world. No one cared enough to stop me. Every so often ah'd come back to society for provisions—just once in a while—see if anypony'd acknowledge mah presence. Of course ah should've known better."

Upon finishing, the stallion lifted his head, the tip of his old stetson no longer masking his fire-orange irides. "The way ah see it now, if ah can't be who ah became all these years ago and ah'm goin' down this way or another, ah ain't doin' it alone. Maybe then will the princesses open up their oblivious eyes."

My sights scanned upwards, grazing along the side of this stallion's exposed stainless steel limb while simultaneously going over the details in my head; former soldier, lost his hoof to the enemy, abandoned society altogether for a life off the grid.

Then it hit me, the shock twice as hard as the realization.

"I-I... you... y-you were the soldier that Ray menti—" My lips slammed shut just a moment too late. At that, my pupils shrunk to pinpricks.

He stopped in his tracks and glanced back at me slowly, eyes narrowing. "Ray? Ray, who?" he said with a small grimacing look on his face. I chose to keep quiet right then and there. He approached slowly, studying my expression. He then began to smirk sinisterly when he came to a conclusion.

"Ah, of course. Yes. Ray Blitz, ah know him. Who are ya to him?" Again, I remained silent as a mouse. "Not a talkative one when you say the wrong shit, are ya?" His hoof raised and swiftly caught me in the cheek, throwing my head sideways. I took it with a small grunt, breathing heavily as my heart now pounded away at my chest. He chuckled darkly. "That's okay, ah already know what yer thinkin'. Ah'll save a few bullets for yer little friend the next time he and I cross paths."

That absolutely left me infuriated with the blood boiling throughout my body. But I knew I couldn't do anything right then, not yet. I would save my internal rage for the prime moment, when I finally can kick his ass... granted that opportunity comes while I am still breathing.

"Lucky for you, we have arrangements set so ya don't have to see that day come," he added, turning to a pair of his goons behind him and whistling. Trotting up, they turned to him for orders. "Ah told y'all we needed unicorns only. No pegasi, no earth ponies. We don't have a use for 'im."

One of his sentries cocked his head, puzzled. "But the boss specifically ordered his capture—"

The stallion whipped around, getting up in the smaller pony's face and looming over him and his companion menacingly. "Ah don't give two shits what the boss said, ah'm tellin' ya the truth, and the truth is we need unicorns, so kill him!"

My blood ran cold at his words. Harder than ever did I tug at the zip ties, hoping luck might briefly be in my favor with what little adrenaline-induced strength I had available. Small whimpers could be heard just above my grunts of effort, which took me longer than necessary to realize were my own and purely out of fear for my life.

It was strange, I shouldn't be afraid. I shouldn't be scared to die anymore, yet I was. Something about it even felt different from the previous times where my life has been in danger or I have come close to biting the bullet, and it was all real. It was legitimate fear taking a firm grasp on my essence.

"No, no!" cried a couple of the other captives, begging I be spared.

"Take me instead!" shouted one in vain, thrashing against his bindings with all of his might mustered from refined anger and desperation.

Yet no one's demands went answered but the leader's. At his command, they dragged me away into the torture chamber and promptly began strapping me to a metal chair bolted into the floor near what appeared to be an operating table, scorched black on the surface by presumably the high amounts of energy being ripped from previous victims to be tied to it and slowly killed. Beside the chair stood a lone IV stand, hanging from it a plastic bag filled to the brim with a clear fluid, one unable to easily be discerned based on appearance. It looked like water at first glance, though instinct said otherwise.

By the influence of a strong field of magic, they held me perfectly still while one inserted a tubed syringe attached to the IV bag and removed a band tied around it to prevent the contents from flowing through prematurely.

Mere moments after the needle punctured the crease of my arm, a steady stream of cold, refined alcohol began spilling into my bloodstream through the connected tube. Like any other IV in the past—which could not have been more than two or three—the deadly fluid's sensation as it injected sent a freezing chill up my spine that ultimately immobilized me further. Needless to say, such feelings compel me to tense up to the point of essentially becoming a statue.

Only twenty or so seconds in and I felt myself on the verge of falling unconscious. What little movements I made in an attempt to slip free slowed and eventually ceased. My eyelids drooped, blinking slowly yet heavily as my vision steadily blurred when the alcohol quickly took effect.

Easing back into the chair, I began to breathe deeply. I couldn't tell whether it was because of fear taking over, or a side effect of the IV's contents making my mind gradually turn loopy when a crushing weight started to squeeze the air out of my lungs. Any inhale I took within a ten second window met with an invisible wall somewhere between my lips and throat that prevented me from breathing properly, and that is when the panic-induced adrenaline really kicked into high gear.

Even my hearing gradually subsided, though not quite nearly as intensely as the rest of my remaining senses. The process lasted an eternity, even though it was likely only a couple of minutes in all reality. I didn't have a grip on what was real anymore as the alcohol had reached the mind-numbing stage sooner than anticipated.

With what I had left in me, I fought to keep my head up and my eyes wide open. The pressure on my chest alleviated only slightly, but not substantial enough to allow me to breathe normally. Simultaneously it seemed to be worsening, yet gradually did my panicked state subside to the point where I was calm at the makeshift-poison's will.

In that instance, all hope was erased. I knew now no one could prevent it. I was going to die today, locked up in some abandoned foundry Celestia knows where. Nopony would so much as notice more than likely, either. I would perish down here and nopony would bat an eye to my disappearance. It's not like I was important to anypony anyways. I was just a measly corporal in the Lunar Marine Corps, one of hundreds sharing the rank, one of thousands, possibly tens of thousands serving. Me vanishing off the face of the earth wouldn't affect any of that. Everypony would simply move on with their lives whether or not they were aware.

And yet it hurt even more remembering the few who probably did still care about me. I never knew the last time I parted ways wouldn't be until another day; no, it was permanent. They didn't know either. They probably still don't. Silver Edge, Anchorage, Ashfall, Nightpath, Hardstaff, Shadow, my mother, Ray... No one. I tried to think of them, of the time I've spent with each and every one of them mutually, but nothing was there. It was all gone, wiped clean by the alcohol purging my form of all that I remember and the mechanisms in place that kept me alive for twenty years. Until today.

I jolted only when gunshots erupted outside the room, startling the sentries stood guard in my room. They rushed out to see just what was going on, but in my blurred line of vision when I reopened my eyes, I witnessed one of them go down in a spray of blood. Efforted grunts escaped my muzzle, tiredly blinking as I tried to piece together what was happening. It lasted no longer than a few seconds, and still yet I had no clue in my present state. That was until a familiar face barged in over the bodies at the doorway.

"In here!" yelled a muffled voice, the stallion whom it belonged to rushing up at my side and quickly cutting the leather clamps holding me to the chair. A pair of dark red eyes snapped up to the IV stand, then to the tube leading to my arm, where the uniformed figure practically snatched the needle out of its hole, where a red ring had formed around the puncture site.

With a hoof around my back, he helped ease me upright, where I fell forward quickly, only to be caught by him and another pony galloping into the room.

"Easy, Star," he assured, lifting me slowly and turning my head to meet his eyes. "It's Lieutenant Snow Storm, we came to rescue you."

I couldn't grab a hold of my senses with the amount of alcohol now flowing through my veins. "S-Snow?" I huffed out just barely. Now I was vaguely starting to remember him, thankful for him to have come at long last. Even though a sliver of hope had returned, I continued to spurt gibberish. "T-tell my mother... a-and Ray... I love them both..."

"Ray? Who's Ray?" It took a moment or two, but the realization struck me like an oncoming train and I shut my mouth up tight. Snow proceeded not to question and asserted instead, "You tell them yourself, Marine. We're taking you home."

A weakened and frankly drunkened, stupid smile of pure relief took form on my muzzle as he carried me with my hoof around his neck and vice versa. "I-I couldn't be happier to see you, Lieutenant," I panted, on the brink of fainting, both out of relief and the dangerous level of alcohol now flowing in my bloodstream. It was in that moment where a new question suddenly came to mind. "H-how on earth did you f-find us?"

Before the snow-white pegasus had the opportunity to answer, a somewhat low voice off to my right interrupted. "It was me."

I blinked, turning towards and studying a scrawny stallion for a minute at least while my mind sluggishly calculated things. He was breathing heavily with a bullet wound in his shoulder, in the process of being patched up by one of Snow's medics. Despite his injury, he seemed to disregard it for the most part. Snow Storm set me down on the edge of a table and reached a hoof into my pocket and produced my astonishingly-unscathed smartphone, holding it before me. Again, a few seconds passed before I recognized the device.

"Easily enough, we tracked a ping in your phone used to find it should it be stolen. Sounds to me like they did a piss-poor job of searching your person and didn't bother destroying the evidence."

"But... w-wait a minute, it was in my hoof. I dropped it when they knocked me out. H-how...?"

He grunted when pressure was applied to his wound to clean up some of the blood. "I... uh... well, they told me to get rid of it, I didn't know what to do, so I just put it in your jacket and left it be."

With that, I stared at both of them, dumbfounded. I began to chuckle, which soon turned into a stupid laughter that showed off my exhaustion and relief in the moment. "You... dumbass! Hahaha!" I couldn't control myself any longer. Somepony, anypony, please, end my misery before I hurt myself.

Snow rolled his eyes and turned around. "All right, Star, I'll leave you to settle down. Cluster!" he called. The moment he did, a unicorn lance corporal helping tend to the small pony's wounds quickly stood and clicked his hooves at attention as the lieutenant strode by, on his way to have a word with a wine-red unicorn fumbling with a computer on the far side of the room. "Get that alcohol out of his system at once, we need him sobered up for the trip back."

The greyish-blue unicorn with a patch of stone grey down his forehead and the top of his muzzle nodded acknowledgingly. "Yes, Lieutenant," he affirmed, throwing up a quick salute, then came over to me.

"Sorry for shooting you," apologized Snow sheepishly as he passed by the wounded insurgent.

The short stallion chuckled weakly. "You know what? I deserved it."

Despite blurry eyesight, I narrowly managed to hone in on the two tone-faced unicorn pulling up before me. He knelt to dig through his heavily-stuffed yet surprisingly organized backpack. The first thing he brought out was a small pack of cotton swabs and what looked to be a breathalyzer of some sort. He rose up to eye level, producing a single swab from its plastic container in his gloved hoof.

"First thing's first, open wide, I need to collect some saliva samples. If you don't mind, of course," he joked. With how slow my mind had become subsequently, complying took a good ten or so seconds, and another two or three for him to rub the tip of the swab around my abnormally dry maw.

Upon finishing, he took the small device in his other hoof and inserted the sample, tapping a few buttons while it worked to calculate just how much pure alcohol had been injected. The results brought a frown to his muzzle, and he turned to Snow across the room. "Point-three precisely, Lieutenant."

The lance corporal's announcement made the pegasus whip around suddenly out of shock, responding immediately. "Don't give him water yet. Bergenson Maneuver, on the double!"

Some standing around stopped what they were doing immediately and turned their eyes toward Snow, then to the young medic. Cluster himself looked moderately shaken, only to then nod once. I stared at him as he looked back, querying out of genuine curiosity and mild concern. "W-what's the Bergen-huh-Maneuver?" I slurred.

The unicorn sifted through his heavy sack once more, drawing a tiny glass bottle and a needle, saying as he did so, "I need to administer a sedative that will force the alcohol out of your bloodstream and finish it off with an extraction spell to withdraw it without breaking your blood vessels."

He then lifted his gaze, unwrapping the little syringe and jabbing it through the vial's lid to suck in a tiny portion of its contents. "This might be a little painful, and you will feel extremely woozy for a few minutes at the most while it wipes from your system. Just keep your mouth open until it's all out, okay?"

If I weren't so drunk, I might have freaked out. But I didn't, I was simply that numbed by it. Giving an affirming nod, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, holding my hoof out while he gently and borderline painlessly inserted the syringe, injecting an ice-cold fluid into my veins.

Snow walked up, planting his hoof on my shoulder and softly smiling. "Star, you're a tough motherfucker. Never would have occurred to me that you drink often?" he said, though it took the form of a partial question. I looked at him slowly, shaking my head in silence, my response only further adding to his surprise. "Point-three percent blood alcohol concentration. Anywhere between point-three-five and point-four is considered fatal. Most heavy drinkers can barely tolerate past point three-two. Are you sure?"

Without speaking, I nodded slowly. A tingle spread throughout my body as the lance corporal's magic went to work. It sent a shiver that forced my wings open partially, and soon the feeling encased my whole form. The tingle steadily transformed into a slight burning as the alcohol seemingly phased out of my blood and into other orifices. I gagged once, then twice as it surged up my throat.

"Don't throw up, don't throw up..." I thought to myself, trying my hardest to maintain my composure and not eject whatever was still in my stomach all over these two stallions. I think they had the same thought going through their head.

Finally, it was out. I opened my maw wide, and in the bluish hold of Cluster's magical aura emerged a string-like glob of red-tinted goopy liquid. Snow recoiled, a look of disgust on his face. "Eugh," he shuddered, lifting his forehoof.

The lance corporal let off a sigh of relief, producing a plastic container from his backpack and carefully storing the fluid inside before sealing it tightly. To our surprise, it filled a third of the container.

I held up a hoof to my forehead as a migraine quickly sprouted in my head, just as he had warned about how I would feel afterwards. "W-why's it red?" I groaned.

The greyish-blue unicorn tucked the secured canister into a sleeve in his backpack, glancing up at me. "Leftover blood cells mixed in with the alcohol. You should be all right now, but medical attention is still necessary as soon as possible. Especially for that," he prodded a hoof at the hole in my arm and the red swelling encompassing it.

"You hear that, Star?" Snow smiled warmly. "You get to live to see another day."

Despite the joy of the moment, I was still very much miserable, holding my head with both hooves now and groaning as sickness worked its way up. "Lovely." I think at this point that dying would have been a much more preferable alternative to my present condition.

"Hey, Lieutenant!" called one of Snow's squad mates from my left. Glancing up slowly, my eyes shot wide open, and there was absolutely no way my gasp went unnoticed when the stocky pegasus hauled in the stetson-donning earth pony, hooves securely shackled and bound by a short chain, though long enough to allot movement. "Found this little asshole hiding in a storage closet."

Snow turned slowly to face either stallions. He cocked his head a little at the sight of the earth pony's metal hoof before lifting his sights to make direct eye contact. "Funny. So big and intimidating to your victims, but once the cavalry shows, you piss yourself and scamper off to your safe space? Never would have guessed from an old Army grunt."

The brass-orange earth pony let off a snort. "A Marine whose got jokes, that's definitely a first. But ah'm not laughin'."

"Neither am I. If it were up to me, I'd cut your ass up like you did to one of your captives and dump salt in each of the wounds, then feed you to the lions of Zebrica." Snow Storm strode up to the cuffed stallion, flicking the stetson off his head with a single, gentle movement of his hoof and catching it an inch above the floor, uncovering the stallion's stone grey mane. His crimson irides lowered to the old hat, stroking the brim gently along the curled lip.

"Looks like you won't be needing this anymore. Might keep it for myself if command lets me, or auction it on base for a pretty bit if somepony wants it, 'cause it sure as hell ain't going in a museum in your honor, pal."

Cores like a blazing wildfire softly glared at the pegasus lieutenant resentfully and in utter defeat. "Ah ain't goin' down easy. You'll catch up one day."

"So be it," said Snow, handing off the stetson to one of his squad mates and looking the stallion dead in the eye. "Now, who are you working for?"

The earth pony of southern origin blinked slowly. "Ya really are clueless, aren't ya?" he tittered beguilingly. "Should've seen it comin' from a mile away."

A hoof from the squad leader snatched the stallion by the chest fur, yanking him to where their muzzles came within inches of one another. Despite his appearance, Snow had a good three or four inches on him. "I didn't haul me and my ponies' asses all the way out here to play games with you. Perhaps I should leave it for the colts in Intelligence to beat it out of you, but you look like the kind of stallion who'd enjoy that."

Unmoved by Snow's threats, the stallion chuckled in evident amusement and put on a big, deceptive grin. "Ah, shucks. You jarheads, too busy chewin' brass and gunpowder to grow a brain cell or two."

I looked over at him and rushed over. Two of Snow's squad mates tried to grab me before I could deal a blow. "Yeah? Well, this jarhead's about to kicking your bladder through your fucking skull!" Glancing around me, I shook the two Marines off gently, stepping back. "But I'll leave that to your future cellmates."

"Oh, of course. Ya know what? Ah'll give ya a hint. My boss ain't willin' to negotiate with you terrorists, nor will he before or after the job is done," he declared, lifting his cuffed hooves to remove Snow's from his chest, backing against another Marine holding him there in case he attempted something.

"I think the joke's on you now. Whatever you were concocting out here is shut down, courtesy of the Lunar Marine Core and Princess Luna's stern orders."

"Ah wasn't talkin' about that, ya dimwit," he grunted, dropping the witty smile immediately. "For what it's worth, ah ain't about to spoil the surprise."

"All right, I've had enough. Get him out of my sight before I gut him," snarled Snow, waving his hoof around and lifting a hoof to the headset attached to his helmet. "We've got the package, requesting airevac to NLM Los Pegasus."

It took a moment to process due to the dizziness, but when it clicked, my eyes widened. "Los Pegasus...? That's where we are?"

"About one hundred miles due east, yes," answered Snow, removing his gloved hoof off of his helmet's earpiece and looking over with concern plastered across his mien. "They really kept you in the dark, didn't they?"

I nodded slowly, still trembling all over. I hoped perhaps one of them had something to give to temporarily wave off the post-extraction procedure sickness. "Y-you wouldn't happen to have a cola on you, would you?" I asked, sheepishly smiling with a weak laugh following, only to frown in disappointment when met with a shake of Snow's head. "Damn," I muttered, glancing over at my former captor.

They dragged him off along with the others under his supervision accompanied by one Marine each, but not before speaking one last time, stopping in his tracks in the doorway to block. "Mark my words, boys. The future is now!"

"Move it!" the pegasus ordered, shoving the stallion's rear with a rough bump of his chest, forcing him through.

In that moment, I froze up, mildly stupefied by his words.

The lieutenant peeked over his shoulder when he noticed me tense up. "What is it?"

"Those... were the words said the night I was kidnapped, right before I was struck down..." I looked at my hooves and the floor in contemplation. "The pony we found in the alley, the captain of the Alder... he phrased it in those exact words." I glanced up at Snow. "That's the GenTech slogan."

Snow Storm blinked in puzzlement as he tried to follow. "Why would that be something they go by?"

I gave a small shrug of my shoulders. "Beats me. His prosthetic looked like something they would produce. My question is the same as yours."

Right as I finished, my gaze settled upon a collective pile of closed booklets and pieces of paper on a separate table near the computer Javelin was busy tinkering with. Nopony had yet drawn their attention to any of it. Out of curiosity, I walked over to it with a tremble in my step.

I pulled up to the table and studied the contents messily strewn about. Moving some of the clutter about in an attempt to organize some of it, doing so unveiled a previously hidden blue piece of paper taped to the tabletop. Blinking, I shoved more of the mess aside and wiped my hoof over the blueprint, which had a topographical map attached by a paperclip to the corner.

"What... is this?" I muttered under my breath, studying the blueprints carefully. It wasn't more than a few seconds after when I knew none of what was in front of me made any sense—why would it? I study weather and earthquakes. Construction and engineering far surpassed my line of expertise.

My attention shifted to some of the disheveled work I had moved over. Snatching whatever papers I could grab in one go, I filed through them. Turning a couple of pages over revealed rather detailed overhead images of the United World of Countries and the surrounding blocks, as well as hastily-drawn figures in yellow and red markings scattered about randomly. After a few moments of staring, a breath sharply drew into my maw and my eyes went wide as saucepans. Each of the markings weren't random after all, but were key locations of security forces the day of the summit meeting, including some of the times written for their rotations throughout the day and the week leading up to the event.

A hoof set upon my shoulder gently, startling me. I whipped around to face the pony it belonged to, coming face to face with Javelin Charm, a once-rival of mine. My immediate response took him aback a step, having evidently spooked him in return, before he proceeded to ask, "What did you find, Shooter?"

I stared for a good few seconds in silence, shrugging my shoulders when I could think of a viable response. "Beats me. I'm still a little out of it," I replied, turning back to the table. Javelin moved up along my side, examining the assortment scattered about and sharing my bewilderment for a moment. He then let off a low gasp that alarmed me. "What is it?"

"I recognize the blueprint formatting, just look!" Javelin snatched up the plans in his magic, holding it between us and setting the map attached aside. "They're GenTech, and only GenTech. Who else chips their blueprints?" he remarked, carefully splitting the thick paperlike material in half and pulling out a thin piece of hardware no bigger than a pinhead. I had to squint just to see it in his aura.

My brow raised. I focused on the unicorn before me, perplexed as ever. It only caused my migraine to intensify. My eyes drifted down to the drawings on the blueprint. "Why would—." It hit me again, this time like an oncoming train. I felt the muscles throughout my body crunch together as they locked up, as well as my blood grow increasingly warm. Snatching the plans from his magical hold, I examined it closely, then took the map and noisily unfolded it to full size across the table.

This was it right here, the answer to countless questions asked since the start of this year. Of course, I could have just been going insane, but Javelin Charm was here to vouch for what I was seeing. One glance at him told me he and I were on the exact same page.

"Grab everything, leave no evidence behind!" he barked at the top of his lungs to snatch everypony's attention. Initially staring in question, Snow's team quickly went to work, snatching up pieces of paper and ripping open computers for their hard drives. To the wine-red unicorn's dismay, he began following suit, albeit much more carefully to preserve the hardware.

I turned to the lieutenant before he could speak up to question and went, "It's all right here, Snow. The missing pieces of the puzzle we've all overlooked!"

***

I paced around in circles. Give or take two more hours and I might have worn a ring through the cement floor. This was all while being hooked up to a rather painfully-inserted IV to restore much needed hydration to my body. Meanwhile, Snow furiously bounced back and forth between comms channels in feeble attempts to muster quick transport cross-country.

"We need a C-17 ready to go at Los Pegasus International, stat!" he ordered. Glancing over at me while I trotted in an endless loop, he asked quietly so as to not accidentally direct the question to the pony on the other end, "Can't this wait until we get to Manehattan?"

Stopping after a good fifteen or twenty minutes, I don't even know how long anymore, I looked up at him directly. "I can assure you, Lieutenant, what we've put together can't wait any longer than it has to."

He blinked a few times, staring questionably, only to then nod comprehensively. His gaze darted elsewhere as he listened in to a voice through his earpiece, where a scowl swiftly took form on his countenance. "The fuck do you mean you can't arrange anything? We don't have time for this!"

With a grumble of frustration, he turned to me with a look of defeat. "I'm sorry, Corporal, the soonest we can get you home is tomorrow afternoon."

"Damn it!" I stomped my hoof, only to then grimace as a shock of pain shot up my arm. Soreness caused by the swelling where they had attempted to kill me sprung up, making it difficult to properly move the limb freely to my annoyance.

It seemed as though the Lunar Marine Corps base just south of Los Pegasus stood in for a place to sleep for the night. However, I knew I wouldn't get much, if any. Thankfully, as soon as the helo landed, Snow Storm went right to work arranging impromptu communications to Joint Base Manehattan per my demands to get in touch with the higher ups ultimately unaware of what was coming based on what we now knew from recovered intel at the foundry. It was his version of a plan B.

The Marines here worked hastily at the lieutenant's request to set up a computer monitor with a high definition camera so that those on the other end could see precisely what I wanted to show them. It was in my best interest that the ponies in charge back home are aware of the looming situation at hoof.

Alas, it can't go without saying that I still had the shakes, albeit no longer primarily caused by malnutrition and countless other issues mustered as a result of spending a week in captivity under poor conditions. Now it had to do with anxiety for presenting myself before the Commandant of the Marine Corps, the Lunar Fleet Admiral, and including but not limited to Shadow and the other captains willing to attend the emergency meeting.

I took one last sip of water, right as the camera turned on and the monitor began broadcasting the briefing hall at Joint Base Manehattan. It caught me off guard, causing me to quite nearly spit the contents. I quickly swallowed and set the plastic cup down to the side before clearing my throat.

"Uh, thank you... all for coming. I apologize in advance that I can't be there physically, but… this simply could not wait another day. You should know who I am by now, so no introduction is necessary." I drew in a deep breath to clear up my conscience. "Let's get straight to the point, shall we?"

I inhaled deeply before beginning to explain, stood beside a geological map of Equestria hung up on a rolling whiteboard. "Okay, so... plate tectonics! I'm sure all of you are at least somewhat familiar with how they work, that's basic middle or high school knowledge. If not, allow me to give you all a refresher, just so we're all on the same page.

"Heat from the planet's core rises like steam from a boiling pot of water, and this melted rock churns under the surface in the mantle," I moved my hooves in circular motions. "That's called convection, and this causes the sediment we live on, known as the crust, to shift about around two inches a year. The crust all broken up into chunks of differentiating size and mass called tectonic plates, and this movement, albeit slower than a snail's pace, is substantial enough to affect seismic zones as much as they do; namely volcanoes and, of course, earthquakes. Shakers of varying magnitude consistently plague the western coastal region of the country, say Los Pegasus, San Prancisco, Vanhoover for example."

In an almost straight, neat line following the oceanic boundaries, I moved the red-inked marker in my hoof along the left coast of the country, south to north, up to the northernmost point on the map, before turning back to the camera. "The same process occurs around our neck of the woods, but on a much smaller, indiscernible scale. This is because the ridge that splits the middle of the ocean is constantly spreading outward, allowing magma to the ocean floor, where the water instantly cools and continues on and on, creating more areas of the crust. But! Somewhere, around here," I stopped, circling the marker just west of the ridge line. "There is a crack somewhere in this region that is showing rather abnormal signs of activity."

Taking one brief glance at the map, I took a couple of steps back, pausing as my mind began working again. "Wait a minute..." my eyes narrowed on the red circle. In that instance, my brain fired up with countless questions all leading back to one in particular. I glanced back at the camera, turning my body around to face it. "Captain, on our last deployment, do you recall us positioning ourselves somewhere within this vicinity?" I queried, tapping my hoof beside the marked area in question and stepping aside.

There was a short silence as Shadow studied the map. "Vaguely, yes. That was somewhere near one of the energy signatures we were out searching for. Why, do you think the two correlate?"

"It's merely a theory I thought of just now, but..." I paced slowly around a bit in front of the board, looking down at my hooves in thought. When a conclusion came to mind, I mumbled under my breath. "Of course... it's a diversion."

"Pardon?" questioned the fleet admiral, who happened to pick up on my quiet voice.

I looked up at the camera, eyes widened some. "Those signals Command has been detecting for the last few months, it's like a mirror, always leading us to the wrong place. They're meant to drive us from what is really under the ocean! They're... a diversion. Which can only mean..." Again, I stopped in my tracks, this time eyeballing the screen and the pack of perplexed high-ranking officers tuning in on the other end.

"Theoretically... a pulse device, like in the blueprints recovered from the old foundry, can manipulate the fault line by either pounding into the ground repeatedly or emitting invisible but powerful energetic waves that can essentially speed up the process of the two tectonic plates shifting beside one another, which causes friction, which in turn, causes earthquakes," I described, added to by the gestures of my hooves.

Shadow's brow furrowed as he stared questionably at me through the monitor. "Corporal, what are you saying? You think there's something beneath the sea, at the bottom to be precise, that is behind all of this?"

"The quakes we have been having are far from natural, and they are a warning. Someone has something at the ocean floor that is manipulating the faults and triggering miniature temblors, sending out electromagnetic pulses, and screwing with our communications, it's what is causing these tremors." I stopped, looking him dead in the eye through the computer. "It's why our reactor shut down, Captain, and you know what? I bet whoever is behind it also sent out the false signal to engage with the Ajerstanians. It was probably to distract the both of us from our mission so they could sneak under the radar again."

The Marine Corps commandant wore his usual expression of mild disgust, yet also one of question. "Who on earth even has the technology readily available to—"

"GenTech," Shadow cut him off, looking up from the table at each of them. I simply bobbed my head in agreement. "Same bastards installing new systems in all of our ships," he grunted. "If I recall correctly, GenTech launched a new satellite into orbit early last year. The GX-04 rocket," he continued, glancing at the screen. "It suffered catastrophic failure mere hours later, which threatened adjacent satellites and had to be brought back down to Earth."

"But I thought that one burned up in the upper atmosphere?" I remarked, tapping my chin. "I heard it was too far damaged to be recovered and they were forced to 'control it to destruction'."

"Not necessarily. The satellite design itself was kept under wraps, but the rocket it went up in was seen and approved by aeronautical engineers and officials. I had the honor of visiting the launch pad a week before launch," said Shadow. "Frankly, it would not surprise me in the slightest if it wasn't a satellite at all. Not after all that you say, not after all that's happened in the last few months."

I blinked a few times, catching almost immediately on to his thoughts before he finished them. "You think the satellite was the pulse device?"

"Just a theory," Shadow winked, turning to one of the enlisted sailors accompanying him. "Petty Officer, would you mind loading up a projection of the satellites predicted crash site had it not burned up?"

"Aye, Captain," the sailor responded, tapping away on a tablet. Within a minute, the simulated map pinpointed the region of uncertainty—placing it smack dab in the middle of the red marked circle on my map.

"Son of a bitch..." I mumbled, taken slightly aback by the model. "Bastards faked a satellite launch to cover up their machine diving to the ocean floor."

Standing, the commandant of the Marines slammed his hoof demandingly on the table's edge. Somehow, the force of it smacking the glass didn't so much as crack under its weight. "Well, we need to find this device at once and shut it down before it causes any more damage!"

"That won't be entirely possible until we disable whatever it is causing those signals so pinpointing the true source can be simpler," said Fair Winds, the commanding officer of the L.R.S. Gibbous.

"Just how do you propose we do that?" Shadow questioned, shifting in his seat.

I looked to the floor as my lips curved downward. Then, as if a light bulb lit up in my head, "I have an idea. How soon can we sail out to the ridge?"

"Star, I'm afraid the Eclipse cannot be prepared in time. Plus, if what you say is in fact accurate, the new systems may not be reliable in our favor. We would have to deploy the Gibbous and the Aphelion by themselves," Shadow said, the others in the room slightly taken aback by his way of addressing me that time.

My countenance turned stern as I stared back through the camera. "What ever it takes."

Nodding firmly, Fair Winds addressed, "If we leave port at 0400 sharp, at full steam we should be able to make the ridge zone by tomorrow afternoon, tomorrow evening by the latest."

"Perfect. The sooner, the better. Whatever the intended use of that thing, it can't simply be for research purposes."

Shadow nodded in agreement. "Thank you for coming back to inform us of this, Corporal."

I nodded once in return. "I couldn't abandon Manehattan."

"I expect you here in person to oversee the mission at the right moment and coordinate with local law enforcement to work out a plan to bring Armet Mace in for questioning. I will inform your platoon sergeant of your return as soon as possible."

For a second time, my head bobbed in a nod of acknowledgement. "Thank you, Captain."

The Lunar Fleet Admiral turned to Shadow from across the table with a stern look. "With your ship out of commission, Captain, I suppose you would not mind a temporary change of command for a portion of your crew between the Gibbous and Aphelion?"

The greenish-grey stallion gave a firm nod of his head in response. "Be my guest, Admiral."

"Excellent. We'll need all hooves on deck. In the meantime, I will get in touch with the Coast Guard to be on alert and inform them that the Lacus shall accompany them around the harbor. Shadow, Fair Winds, call for a briefing at 1930. I'm certain there will be a number of sailors asking about this deployment. We will assure them everything that needs to be understood," said the leading naval officer, standing from his chair, the others following suit a moment after. He glanced between them individually. "Let's get to work."

"Aye, Admiral," said Shadow. The group exchanged salutes with one another mere seconds before the video on either end ceased.

As soon as the transmission ended, I relaxed my shoulders and let off a heavy breath. Glancing over my shoulder, I looked up at the lieutenant, having stood the entire time out of the camera's view. "Think I got the point across well enough?"

Snow immediately replied with a firm nod. "Stupendously."

"Thank you," I returned him a single nod, then sighed softer than prior. "Let us hope this works."

"Let's hope. That was a lot you had to say in such a short period. How are you feeling?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned for my well-being.

I looked at him in silence for a couple of seconds, blinking. "As good as somepony who could have died a few hours ago could feel," I responded as honestly as I could before gulping down more of the water in the cup.

"Good to hear. Let me know if you need anything." I nodded comprehensively. At that, Snow turned and walked away to find his squad mates.

While he did, I went over to a chair on the far side of the room and proceeded to claim it for the time being in ease myself as much as the time and my mind would allow in its chaotic state, bringing along more water to sip on carefully to wash out the lingering nauseousness in my stomach. I sat back, and that's when my mind went to work yet again. This time, it wasn't about the device, or GenTech, or the past week; it was Shadow. The look on his face, even part of his apprehension while speaking said more than he did verbally. I could tell he wanted to say something else. Perhaps it was something best saved for a one-on-one discussion, and I knew exactly why.

Author's Note

This was a bit of a tough chapter to write, but is among one of the longest I have ever written.

43. Into the Eye of the Storm - Part I

"Anchor, Anchor, hey... easy. Yeah, it's me, Star," I reaffirmed, retaining a low tone as I tried to calm the distraught pegasus. Tears sat in my eyes, building as a result of having to heart-breakingly hear such an averagely toughened, take-no-shit sailor ultimately break down over the sound of my voice.

"Star! Oh m-my god, thank Luna you're alright!" he practically shouted through the phone, forcing me to move it away from my ear as he sobbed for a couple more minutes. It grew obnoxious quite quickly, though I couldn't be mad at him for caring like he did.

Frankly, it was a relief to hear him again, and for some reason I think I should have expected him to be like this the moment he answered the call. When his cries relaxed enough to hold the phone to my ear without the risk of losing my hearing on one side, I started to chuckle. It soon turned into straight up stupid laughter, a kind of display from myself that I too could not be happier to be safe and sound—for now, that is.

"D-did they hurt you? Where did t-they keep you all this time?" he asked, rambling further with more and more questions. Eventually he stopped and drew in a deep breath to regain his composure, and when he spoke again, he sounded as if he hadn't just cried for ten straight minutes. "I'm... just... I'm glad you're okay, man. I was so... fucking terrified when I woke up. I ran straight to base to report the incident, then I... I went to Shadow, and that's when he offered to help since nopony else would."

"He's a good stallion. Knows his shit, too." I smiled faintly, even though he couldn't physically see me do so. "T-thank you. You might have saved my life, you know that?" I wasn't willing to admit what almost alternatively happened. Even though it was over, it would still stress him out. With what he was out doing at this very moment, and what I was getting ready to, the extra anguish wasn't necessary for either of us.

"H-hey, don't thank me, aye? But it's what friends do. Maybe. W-would this be something friends do on a regular basis?"

I let off a small titter. "Perchance in Equestria, you never know." At that, I exhaled deeply to ease my aching muscles. "I... really owe you big time."

"For what? And don't you bloody dare apologize for what happened, because it wasn't your fault!" Damn, so there goes that opportunity. "So, don't... tell anypony I said this or anything, but... when all's said and done, I really want to give ya a big ol' hug. You know, when I'm home."

Just as I opened my mouth to respond to that with a witty comeback in mind, the high-pitched whine of a jet airliner rolling past on a nearby taxiway interrupted, by which Anchorage could easily hear in the background. "Is that a plane? Where the hell are you right now?"

Despite already knowing, I still glanced around me out of habit. "Los Pegasus International," I said, raising my volume so he could still hear me. "Listen, it's obvious enough but I'm being ordered back to Manehattan as soon as possible. I can't give the details over the phone as to why, but something big is going on."

"Is that why we're at sea right now? They didn't say much at the briefing other than we're heading out for a few days. Not gonna lie, mate, it kind of has me on edge. After the whole almost-nuking-Ajerstan ordeal, I'm not sure if I'm ready to figure out what in the hell we're out here for."

When the jet finally passed and the whine of its engines were no longer ear-piercing, I lowered my volume again to speak normally. "Don't worry, it doesn't have to do with that. I'm not aware of your commanding officer's intentions to address the matter to the crew, but I'm sure he is bound to let you all know some point down the line."

"Probably. I hope so. You know I hate not being informed on shit. Think it's safe to say everypony else is anxious to find out, too."

"Hey, yo, Anchorage!" came a faint voice from somewhere near him.

"Hey, uh, listen. I-I gotta go, Silver's callin' for me. When this is all over and we get back to port, we'll have game night, aye, mate?"

A small smile pursed my lips. "That sounds good. Take care, Anchorage."

"Likewise, Star. Catch you on the flip side."

At a soft three-tone beep from the speaker, I lowered the phone from my ear and tapped a button on the screen. Doing so transitioned back to my short list of phone contacts, where I scrolled some by slowly sliding my hoof up along the surface until it could no longer move. My gaze settled upon the last saved name, wiping the smile clean from my muzzle.

I tapped again, opening his contact information and tapping the 'call' button. It immediately changed screens, and I lifted the phone to my ear as the tiny speaker sounded the dial tone. In my mind, and even in soft mumbles not audible to anypony around me, I begged he answer. It rang four times, before beeping thrice—the call was declined.

It made my eyes go wide, and I stared at the device in my hoof in somewhat of a stagger. Why wouldn't he answer? No, why would he decline the call? Did I do something wrong? Does he not like me anymore?

I closed my eyes and briefly shook my head to clear the negativity and ease myself. Neither of that could have been the case here. It was strange for him to not pick up, although there was likely a reasonable explanation for it. Perhaps he was busy right now and doesn't have the time to talk.

"Hey, Star, you good?" asked Snow Storm. I glanced up from my phone, seeing the uniformed stallion nonchalantly approaching from the side, carrying with him his blue duffel bag across his back with the strap looped under his arm.

Tucking the phone in my pocket, I initially responded with a nod, straightening my posture a little before him. He was still a lieutenant, after all. "Yeah, just... trying to get a hold of some ponies. They aren't picking up," I finished with a grunt, pinning my ears back.

"That happens," he shrugged, pulling up just short of me. "It sucks. Who are you trying to get a hold of?"

That's when the alarms rang in my head. Telling him it was none of his business is not quite the best answer to give, despite being the truth, and no answer at all doesn't work either.

"Some... friends." That wasn't total bullshit, having talked to Anchorage just a few minutes prior. The way I said it, however, can't have been all too convincing. "Now my marefriend," I lied further.

"Oh yeah? Didn't know you had a mare," he commented with a grin, which transformed into a genuine smile. "Good for you."

That's surprising. "Yeah, thanks," I smiled. "What about you? You got somepony to call your own?"

The pegasus lieutenant took the fully-loaded sack from his shoulder and plopped it at the bottom of the plane's loading ramp, where he proceeded to use it as a chair and sit on it while we waited. "I did, recently actually. Two years we were together, I think?"

I looked over at him, blinking, staring curiously. "Didn't work out or something?"

Snow Storm drew in a soft breath, giving a slow shake of his head. "Sadly. We had a few arguments near the end. Eventually we both decided it was creating more stress than alleviating it, so we parted ways for good."

My ears lost their perk and drooped, as did my head slightly. He seemed to be fine with it, and for some reason it made sense for him to, though I couldn't help but pity him. "Man, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it wasn't healthy." His crimson irides fell to his hinds as he gently kicked them in boredom. "It just... sucks, because I loved her, and it hurt me when things went south as quickly as they did. I'm certain it hurt her, too. But maybe it didn't. Maybe the whole thing was just for show. I mean, she seemed genuinely upset, but..." he sighed. "Mares are weird, Star, let me just say that."

I gave a little snort of a laugh at that. "Tell me something I don't know, Lieutenant."

A small smile returned to the stallion's muzzle. "But I've learned to move on from it. Too much more is important in my life than to sulk over somepony I simply was not compatible with." He waved his hoof. "My job, for instance. Second lieutenant isn't much farther from reach, and Javelin Charm is on the docket for promotion, too."

"Yeah? Congratulations," I simpered softly. "What's he going to do since they kicked him out of OS?"

"Still pursuing his line of work, going to start tech school soon. He hasn't said much other than he wants to design and program shit." Snow shrugged. "It'll prove useful for sure, especially for what we use him for."

"And it'll pay off greatly when he discharges," I added, receiving a concurring nod from the pegasus. "You know, I wanted to get into technology when I first joined. Now they have me at the geology office collecting data and whatnot. It's not a difficult job, though it does get tedious at best."

My eyes narrowed a bit on the tarmac cement in front of me. "Now that we know what's behind the quakes, they may not have a use for me there much longer, which I'm okay with quite honestly. Only reason I work there is because it was assigned to me based on personal interest. But you know what? It... doesn't call to me."

Snow blinked a couple of times, puzzled slightly. "Then what does?"

"I'm thinking meteorology," I said, looking skywards. Slow-moving cumulus clouds steadily moved across the bright blue sky, shadowed beneath by the sun's light above. "I get some of that on deployments. You know, collecting readings from my computers, but I think it would serve me best if I make it permanent."

"Well, if it's what you want, you can file a request for a change of rate," suggested Snow, smiling warmly.

I sighed softly, hunching over with my chin resting in my forehooves. "I can't decide, that's the issue. It's not that big of a deal, but... I would hate to continuously bounce between rates my entire career."

"You wouldn't be the first pony to do so. Hell, I didn't settle a rate 'til a few months after graduation. It isn't anything to be ashamed of, because you are simply trying to see where you stand and determine your purpose. Not everypony finds their true calling as soon as the next. You get me?"

Nodding in comprehension, my gaze drifted over to the lieutenant. "I get you, loud and clear. I'm just worried is all."

"Worry later, we still have a lot of work to do and little time to accomplish," he affirmed in a sudden change of demeanor, hopping up and onto all fours, snatching up his duffel bag with a wing.

Watching him, a horrid thought ran through my mind. "You do know that, if my gut is telling me correctly, and I pray to Luna it isn't, that this could very well be the Liberation of Manehattan all over again?"

"Your prayers are mutual, Star. All we can do is hope we caught this in time." The slightly-taller pegasus turned to directly face me, putting on a neutral expression. “Let’s get airborne while the day's still young, Marine.”

I simply nodded in agreement. Returning it with a single bob of his head, Snow Storm turned towards his squad mates huddled in two conversing groups a few yards away. He brought a hoof to his mouth to whistle, nabbing their undivided attention. He bellowed, "Load up, Marines, we're headed to Manehattan!"

***

Tapping a hoof on the screen to end the call, the pegasus tucked his phone away into his uniform pocket. He turned down the corridor where his friend had called from, approaching with a faint smile pursing his lips.

"I just spoke to Star," Anchorage began, sniffing heavily and wiping off lingering tears onto his sleeve. "He's okay. They're flying him back to Manehattan this afternoon."

In that moment, Silver quite nearly collapsed onto the floor. He dipped his head, finally exhaling the breath he contained for the past thirty seconds or more. "Thank goodness!" Then, out of the blue, the beige unicorn took the pegasus into a tight embrace of all of his mustered might that caught him completely off guard. Anchorage's eyes went wide as he stood statue-still, not even so much as considering raising his hoof to loop back around his fellow seapony, other than to carefully pry him off after about ten seconds.

"Okay, all right, that's enough!" grunted Anchorage, finally managing to push Silver off. He wiped down his uniform with a hoof, lifting his gaze to softly glare at the unicorn briefly. Any emotions previously displayed were long gone now, and Silver smiled apologetically. "What are we lookin' like, do you know?" he asked, beginning to walk down a main passageway.

"Roughly three-hundred nautical miles west-southwest of our target destination. Still no clue what the big fuss is about," answered the unicorn sailor, striding alongside his buddy.

"Well, we maintain our current heading and speed, my best estimate is we should make it by 1600, perhaps 1700 at the latest, weather contingent," the pegasus added, stiffening his posture as another sailor slipped between them in the tight space.

"Sounds good to me. It doesn't have to do with the other ordeal, does it?" queried Silver, furrowing his brow and looking at him curiously.

Anchorage froze for a moment. He knew Silver wasn't aware of the discussion between him and Shadow, nor did he want him to be until the time called for it. Frankly, not even he knew what was happening right now. That part hadn't been addressed yet. However, despite Silver Edge being one of his closest friends since the unicorn's graduation, he understood the risks and was not at liberty to explain his findings. "No, it doesn't," he affirmed.

To the second class petty officer's relief, the younger, slightly lower-ranked stallion proceeded not to question his response. "All right, then. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where Chief Petty Officer Striker is, would you?"

Anchorage glanced over his shoulder at the unicorn, blinking twice in bewilderment. "Who, now?"

Silver Edge dipped his head slightly, letting his ears droop back. "My uncle...?"

"Your un—" Anchorage's ice-blue cores widened when it hit him. "Oh! I forgot, you enlisted to meet him," he gently smacked his own forehead with a hoof and mentally cursed his neglect to remember, adjusting his cover back in place afterwards. "Right, of course. But no, I'm afraid I don't. Is he for sure on the Gibbous?"

Silver nodded. "It's his ship. Technically. Not literally his, but he is assigned—"

"Yeah, I get what you mean," Anchorage cut in, abruptly stopping the unicorn from continuously rambling in correction. "We'll find him, trust me. You know what he looks like?"

The unicorn halted in his tracks, staring at Anchorage as he carried on a few more paces, only to also stop when he realized Silver was no longer following. The greyish-white pegasus peeked over his shoulder and back at Silver, swiveling around slowly with a hoof lifted off the floor.

With a soft sigh, Silver shook his head, magenta irides slipping to the floor. "I do not. I've never met him before in my life, that is partially why I took up enlisting in the Navy. I only knew of him because my father spoke highly of him when I was a colt, so... it interested me in finally meeting him. That's why I got all giddy when I found out that they were sending us out on the Gibbous for a short while."

Anchorage moved up in front of Silver, cordially placing a hoof on his shoulder. The unicorn lifted his sights to meet the cool, composed cores of his friend's softly staring back. "We'll find him before we head back and part ways again. Trust me on that one, mate," he promised, winking.

The beige unicorn's mouth curved into a friendly smile. "I know I can count on you, Anchorage. I always have."

***

"Ready to do this?" checked Ashfall, glancing over to the brown draft stallion at his nine o'clock.

"What are we even doing here, Ash?" questioned Nightpath, not removing his gaze from the facade of the towering glass-sided structure that seemed to stretch up infinitely.

"Do I need to go over it one more time?" blinked the moss-green earth pony, not amused.

His question-like statement earned a shake of Night's head in response before he looked away in embarrassment. "No. That wasn't the intended nature of the question."

The smaller of the two reprocessed the words in his head, grunting softly. "We are putting in work, Night. He is going to talk."

"And you are certain Armet Mace, wealthy and famed philanthropist, founder and CEO of GenTech isn't who he says he is?" asked Night, starting toward the entrance.

"It was Anchorage who convinced me otherwise," Ash clarified. "As earnest as he is and has been over the course of our friendship—"

"You mean relationship?" the draft stallion nickered in amusement at his own joke, only to receive a glare of daggers shot at him by his fellow Marine. "Continue."

Ash refocused as he entered first through the sliding doors casually, quelling his volume to prevent his voice from echoing in the lobby and alarming anypony of their discussion. "He is typically the one to believe in these situations, so that is why we are here."

"So, what? We're just going to go up there and threaten him until he admits covering up the shipment of illegal chemicals on a ship that isn't in any recent record and endangering some forty lives?"

"Precisely," answered Ash curtly, a sort of signal for Night to stop talking for the time being.

Without another word spoken, the two proceeded into the expansive, modernized lobby. Both were met with a friendly, welcoming smile of a curly-maned buttermilk unicorn mare on approach to the receptionist's counter.

"Hello there, and welcome to Generation Technologies Incorporated! How may I help you fine gentlecolts this afternoon?" she greeted, maintaining a bubbly persona before the stallions. It was evident that she had a like for her job, despite sitting at a computer for practically an entire shift.

Despite their intentions, the two put on smiles to mask it long enough to coerce her. "Hi, we would both like to speak to Armet Mace directly."

The mare seemed slightly taken aback by such a hefty request, but chose to go along with it. "Do you have an appointment?"

Night nodded his head, while Ash shook his, prompting the brown stallion to unconvincingly follow suit. "I'm afraid we could not arrange one on such short notice. It's urgent."

"I'm sorry, sirs, Armet has requested his meetings be cancelled for today while a gas leak on the upper floors is fixed—"

"A gas leak? That's what he told you?" Night cut in, glaring down upon the receptionist. Already was he growing impatient.

"That is what I have been informed of, not by him directly," the mare meekly said, trying to retain a look of innocence, sitting back into her chair tensely.

"Bullshit!" Night slammed his forehoof on the desk's upper lip, rattling everything on it and startling the poor mare. "We need to see him this instant. It's an urgent matter of national security!"

The outburst ringing out through the lobby attracted the attention of security guards. Neither of which, however, took any sort of action and opted to observe in case the two stallions at the receptionist's desk made any move that would lead to the harm of ponies in the building.

"R-right away, s-sir!" the unicorn mare squeaked out, immediately pressing a button to ring up Armet's office.

After two short moments, the line opened, and a familiar voice blared through the calling device's speaker. "What is it? Make it quick, I'm currently speaking to the gas workers about the severity of the leak!"

"S-sir, there are two stallions down here who wish to meet with you at once," the mare shakily said, keeping eye contact with either Marine waiting on the opposite side of the counter.

"What do they want?! I told you to cancel my meetings!"

"They say it's urgent, s-sir. A matter of national security that cannot wait."

Then there was a silence. It lasted a good ten seconds, causing Night and Ash to exchange glances.

"Send them up immediately," said the voice, significantly calmer than prior.

"Right away, sir!" the mare released the button, breathing a sigh of relief. She placed her hooves together on the desk top and made gentle eye contact with either earth ponies. "All right, you are good to go! Just take the second elevator on your left to the one-hundred-and-fifteenth floor, where Armet will meet you."

Ash gave a single nod, sporting a faint smile, apologetic in nature for his friend. "Thank you, miss. Have a good one."

With that, he led Nightpath to the designated elevator. Both were heavily scrutinized by essentially every security officer stationed on that floor until they entered the elevator. At the press of the correct button on a touchpad screen beside the door, the two began their ascent to the 115th floor.

As they waited, Ash slugged Night in the arm with enough might to consider it a legitimate punch. "Ow!" yelped Night, glaring down upon the shorter stallion. "The fuck?!"

"Let me handle it from now on, alright?" Ash responded, flicking a momentary glare up at his friend, who simply looked away and went silent.

Along the journey up, the elevator temporarily stopped to pick up one more pony; a somewhat bulky earth stallion with a buzz cut of a mane in a white shirt and black tie, sporting a utility belt with a holstered, folded baton around his barrel which the shirt was tucked into. The two stepped to the rear of the elevator to make some room, standing behind him. It wasn't immediate, although the two found it to be suspicious when the extra passenger did not request a certain floor to be dropped off at.

Night honed in on the periwinkle figure, posed as if he were at attention before a superior, except his head wasn't particularly raised. Glancing up slightly, he caught in the blurred reflection of the stainless steel finish of the compartment that he was being eyeballed by the sentry, prompting him to shift his attention elsewhere momentarily.

At the forty-eighth floor, the elevator stopped once more to allow two more similar ponies inside, one unicorn and the other another earth pony of similar height and build. They lined up on either side of the first in almost perfect sequence and posture.

Without so much as turning their heads in the slightest, Nightpath's hazel cores slid to meet the light red of Ashfall's. One glance put each other on the same page of awareness, giving Night an opportunity to mentally prepare himself.

"Before we get started..." Ash paused, shifting his sights individually between the three similarly-uniformed stallions gathered in a line in front of him and Night. "...would anypony like to get off?"

There was a moment of quiet. A long, uneasy one. It was soon broken by the hum of a taser gun, except it originated from the left earth pony's baton as he swiftly whipped it from the holster to extend the bat. Sparks of bluish-white electricity crackled along the sides, stemming from three rings along the stick. The other two guards spun quickly, one lunging at Ash to restrain him, the second lunging at Night to take him by the neck.

Before the two even had the chance to turn around, Ash sidestepped and extended his strong hoof, catching the second earth pony guard in the chest. The force knocked the wind out of the stallion and sent him to the floor, though he did not stay down for long and was back on his hooves in two seconds.

In the meantime, Night wrestled with the unicorn against the wall, steadily becoming overpowered by the use of magic attempting to pin him while the baton-wielding earth pony swung a zapping hit to Night's side, sending a painful shock through his body, forcing a grunted yelp out of the brown draft stallion. Infuriated as a result, Night squeezed a hoof free from the unicorn's magical aura and thrust it into his lower cheek to knock him away. The blow threw the unicorn sideways, head crashing against the safety bar lining three sides of the elevator and stunning him temporarily.

Night shifted his attention then to the periwinkle earth pony as the baton caught him in the shoulder. "Aagh!" he shouted, the force combined with the electric current causing him to stumble, but quickly regain his stance as he brought up his hoof in an attempt to slam the stallion into the floor.

The guard jumped to the left, narrowly dodging the worst of the hit, but the hoof still skimmed his shoulder, forcing the electrified baton out of his hoof. He staggered and tried to reach for the stick, only to be halted by Night grabbing his arm and throwing it sideways with an enormous crack that had the periwinkle stallion crying and grasping his other shoulder as he fell to the floor. Without hesitating, Nightpath coiled back his hoof, driving it straight into the guard's muzzle. Not only did it throw his head back, but instantly incapacitated him and left an unconscious body splayed out across the elevator floor.

Victory in his defeat was short lived as Night quickly shifted his focus back to the unicorn, who snatched the baton up off the floor in his magic and proceeded to crack the draft stallion in the upper arm, followed by his neck seconds after. Somehow, the aura encasing only the baton's handle partially diminished the amount of energy flowing through the stick and thus lowered the damage it could do as a result. It caught the unicorn off guard, realizing it hadn't affected the Marine as much as prior, stepping back out of fear when Night stood tall. He reached forward, taking the sentry by the collar and bringing his head to his own in a powerful headbutt.

While it sent a shock of migraine-like pain throughout his head, it did, however, knock the unicorn out as well, and he dropped him atop the earth pony. Night grunted softly, rubbing his forehead with a hoof as his senses gradually returned to him, sent into a frenzy by the move. He turned to Ash, now rested atop the second earth stallion and pinning him by the barrel down, mercilessly dealing punch after punch and throwing the guard's head side to side as he now begged to be spared. Despite his pleas, it did nothing to stop the corporal from incapacitating him as well.

The two Marines panted as their adrenaline individually remained high. They looked between the three guards, making sure each of them were out cold before turning to one another.

"Take their guns and their nightsticks, we might need them later on," huffed Ash, yanking a pistol from his victim's holster. He checked it for safety, then ensured the magazine had full ammunition inside by removing and reinserting afterward.

Night followed suit, taking the shock baton and deactivating it, concealing it beneath his jacket along with another recovered gun. By the time they had finished, the elevator had reached its destination, and both doors slid parted into an open, brightly-lit office corridor.

Stepping beyond the shaft doors, the pair scanned their own side of the corridor for anypony coming their way. Upon confirming the coast was clear, they turned their attention to one another. "She never said where his office was, did she? Fuckin' bitch," grumbled Night.

"Can't be too hard to find," said Ash, starting down the right side while Night took the left. The floor was void of life, likely due to the misinformation of a looming gas explosion threat. It only provided a sense of security to the two, knowing nopony would likely be around to hear their confrontation—assuming they find who they were searching for.

As suggested, however, it wasn't more than a few seconds when Night stopped before a door that stood out from the rest. He glanced down the hall and whistled softly, enough to grab Ash's attention and draw him over.

Regrouping, the two stood before Armet's office oak-wood office doors, complete with a platinum trim and handle. What stopped them was a touch-screen number pad with a key card slot on the right of the entrance. Ash looked at Night silently, only to ease himself upon seeing a security pass in his hoof, stolen from one of the guards in the elevator.

Night turned the card properly, swiping downward. There was a two-toned beep, followed by a small green light on the panel, and finally, a click of the lock as it opened.

Pushing inside, it revealed another corridor—albeit short with only two doors on either side with a third built of stainless steel and frosted glass at the opposite end. Compared to the hallway they were just in, this one was stark in nature; consisting of greyish-white, facility-like panel walls, light bars hanging from the ceiling, absolutely no decor whatsoever, and reflective tiling which their hooves clicked on in a rather ostentatious reverberation throughout the passageway as they advanced to the privacy doors ahead.

The duo pulled up short of the doors, etched with the GenTech 'G' split down the center of both doors in a solid silver finish. They glanced up at a tiny, borderline indiscernible security camera bubble tactfully positioned above the doorway. Neither were sure if they could be seen directly by Armet, nor what his next move might be.

"Armet Mace!... sir. We would like to share a word with you," addressed Ashfall, waiting in silence afterward.

For a few seconds that followed, nothing occurred. The silence was perturbed by a bing, similar to that of an elevator as it reaches a certain floor. At that, the left door swung open slowly, making way for the two to enter the large office.

Night and Ash exchanged perplexed looks, mutually uncertain of what to expect as soon as they enter that room. Either way it went, they were prepared. Mostly.

Slipping through, they entered the spacey modern office. Unlike the outside hallway, some decor tidily sprawled around, such as trimmed, potted plants in corners, a waterfall flowing down along stone from piping in the wall, trickling down upon smooth stones of varying tans and greys placed above a drain. It served as a soothing ambience for the stallion to work in—though in Night and Ash's case, it made them equally uncomfortable to continuously hear in the background.

"So, you managed to take down my security team. I am moderately impressed," cooed the maroon unicorn softly, gazing out the window behind his desk and out over the bustling city. Not for a split second did he glance over his shoulder to fully acknowledge their presence.

"We figured you were the one to send them and stop us from reaching you. Clearly you don't mandate adequate training to where even three ponies combined can't take down one Marine, let alone two," grunted Ashfall in annoyance.

"That is not up to me, I'm afraid," Armet reflected, turning to face the duo across the office and blinking slowly with a neutral countenance. "I'm simply here to run the company and ensure the business side of it remains in the positive. We contract through a nationwide private security corporation. The guards who work here simply go by their employer's standards."

"You must hold a bunch of self-confidence to have such low standards, then," remarked Nightpath with snark in his tone.

"Oh, yes, of course! You see, why worry when we have a joint military base within the boundaries of our fair city, within reasonable distance from the busiest metropolitan center in the country?" the unicorn flaunted, motioning his hoof around as he spoke, only to then say grimly, "There isn't anything for us to worry about, now is there?"

Night and Ash looked at one another, noting the pony's sarcasm in his tone. "What are you playing at, Mace?" Ash questioned placidly, furrowing his brow at the preternaturally vague unicorn.

"I'm not sure myself. Why are two ponies who are supposed to be defending our country barging into my building unwarranted?" yielded Armet, finishing with a stern edge.

"We came here to ask you a few questions. Neither of us hoped it would be anything more than a civilized discussion if that is what you wish to keep it. I believe I speak on behalf of the two of us when I say we are curious to know the truth," snarled Night, his impatience growing.

"The truth?" Armet cocked his head, appearing halfway bewildered by their requests. "Ah, yes, the truth!" he let off a light chuckle. "The truth is, I've been expecting you, Nightpath, Ashfall."

Their eyes widened when their names were addressed, puzzled as to how Armet knew of them. However, that was still the least of their combined consternation.

"Right. How, on earth, does one of the richest ponies in Equestria have access to the names and files of two nobodies?" Armet said, playing it off as a question he knew they were asking themselves. "The answer, my friends, is who doesn't one of the richest ponies in Equestria have access to the names and files to anymore? We live in an age of digital information, shared in devices in the base of our hooves that we use to complete our shopping in minutes without the hassle of leaving the house to see if your local store has it in stock! Conglomerates make billions off of consumer data without anypony so much as batting an eye.”

"So, a stalker, too. One more thing to chalk up on your ever-growing list of offenses. How about that to go with involuntary ponyslaughter, murder, and transport of banned, dangerous chemical substances across international waters to be smuggled into the country?" the moss pony described sternly.

"But said chemicals never reached port, now did they?" Armet laughed a little, moving around the front of his desk and leaning back against it with a sly smirk. "Can't snipe me for that one."

"They can for attempting it, it is virtually the same offense for attempting," retorted Night.

"Ah, that may be true. However, I'm afraid it only applies if I am caught," the unicorn smugly remarked.

"Funny you should say that." Ash drew the sidearm stolen from one of the guards, but didn't immediately point the barrel at the unicorn. "A good fourth of Joint Base Manehattan is well aware by now." He knew that wasn't quite the truth, though he hoped saying such would intimidate Armet.

"That's still three-fourths uninformed, Corporal. Besides, if that were truly the case here, why for the love of Celestia would they send you grunts to bring me in? Why not a simple task force, or... I don't know, a couple of trained peacekeeping officers who actually understand Equestrian code of law?"

He held a sturdy point, even though no one had sent them to begin with. Ash lifted the gun to aim at Armet threateningly, having long had enough of the philanthropist's games. "Are you going to explain yourself, or not?!"

Armet simply grinned. He had stalled long enough and saw just how querulous the two were swiftly becoming. Straightening his posture to stand upright, the unicorn nonchalantly looped behind his desk and tapped a button, which lit up with a power symbol and flashed. In an instant, a levitating projection spanning almost the whole width of the desk. Despite the hologram's transparency, the display was one-sided, and only Armet could see what was on the screen from where he stood, ultimately leaving Night and Ash oblivious.

"What are you doing?" snapped Ash, taking two steps closer as Armet tapped away onto a holographic keyboard. "Did either of us grant you permission to update your social media status?"

"As humorous as that would be, Corporal, I do not own a social media account, nor do I regularly disregard crucial work for one measly second to fill information-hungry lowlifes who spend every moment of their existence creepily following my day-to-day routine in on my tuna lettuce wrap I have every Tuesday at noon," responded Armet, tone signalling a tinge of exasperation as he coldly glared through the hologram. "I am disengaging my security forces so they don't kick in those rather expensive oak wood doors and shoot to kill you pair on sight."

The draft stallion present glanced briefly at his partner, who stared back questionably. A knowing glance told Ash to holster his stolen weapon. "So, will you talk then?"

With a few last speedy taps of the enlarged keys, as well as what appeared to be a hoofprint scan along a blue pad with a light bar sliding beneath his hoof, the screen retracted into the projector as it turned off, leaving a maroon unicorn staring back at them dourly.

Before a single word could be spoken, a sudden jolt like that of a nearby explosion rocked the building and the floor beneath their hooves, compelling Ash and Night to duck down protectively and scan around them in alarm.

"What the hell was that?" posed Ash, focusing on Armet after a few moments. A gentle rattling that incrementally grew more audible shook the room, all while the maroon unicorn wore a scheming smile on his face.

"I wish it didn't have to come to this, boys, but you have ultimately left me no choice."

At that, in a blinding flash of blue that forced either Marine to shield their eyes or look away temporarily, Armet had vanished. However, it wasn't immediately his disappearance that left the two in utter freezing shock; it was what transpired beyond the window panes that overlooked lower Manehattan...

***

Ray anxiously waited in the shadows, in the midst of the biggest opportunity in his entire life. The faint light cast off his chest and face reflected from the array of spotlights above focused primarily on the television set inside the main recording studio of Equestria Today. He observed from the side along with four other auditionees while a fifth currently underwent his trial on camera.

The golden pegasus donned a black vest and white undershirt, having tidily brushed his mane while maintaining its usual shape. His stomach quivered as he rubbed his hoof along his arm below the sleeve cuff. It sent a startling shock that quite nearly forced a frightened squeal out of the stallion when an intermittent buzzing sound and vibration emanated from his pocket.

Holding the bottom of his phone near his chest to partially conceal it, the pegasus' emerald cores gazed down upon its dimly-lit screen as it vibrated gently in his hoof, signalling an incoming call. He glanced up and around him briefly, then poked once at the screen to decline the call and ultimately silencing the device.

"Ray Blitz!" called the show's producer, looking back his direction among others mentally preparing themselves for their turn.

Ray snapped up his head in surprise, swiftly slipping the phone away in his pocket. "Yes, sir?"

"You're up!" the producer smiled lightly, gesturing for the pegasus to head over.

A surge of anxiety and a multitude of varying emotions took hold of Ray's essence. Excitement, worry, and practically everything in between. He swallowed heavily, only narrowly accomplishing such with the lump clogging his throat. With a deep breath in, exhaling a moment after, he washed it all away temporarily and started up toward the set in center of the studio with three individual television cameras aimed toward it.

The pony in his spot before him stood up, stepping off of the short platform and ensuring to walk past Ray as he made his way up, whispering, "Good luck," as he returned to a chair along the darkened back wall behind the cameras. He felt he was going to need it.

Nerve in every stride he took, the tidily-dressed golden pegasus stepped atop the small platform and slipped into the vacant chair on the left, swiveling it to face the center camera. His deep emerald cores sat wide open attentively, only to squint momentarily while he adjusted to the sudden brightness.

"One minute!" announced the producer, trotting up to Ray's side with two stapled pieces of paper and gently slapping them on the table in front of him. "Read up!"

Nodding in thanks, Ray turned his gaze down to the pair of papers and began reading his script. The first thing that caught his direct scrutiny was the secondary headline near the bottom of the page: it described a recent sudden deployment of the Navy and the curiosity regarding it. Immediately his mind went elsewhere, beginning to think of Star. Now he had some idea of why he had been calling all morning and thus regretted not answering, despite the trouble it would have landed him in.

"Five... four... three..." the final two numbers of the countdown were gestured by the manager's wings.

Ray shot his head up in surprise. He had only read over most of the first page and nothing beyond the Navy story. He hoped the other would cover for him, but the whole point of the audition was to see how he would perform and if he would take the reins. It wasn't recommended that he read his script while live, though it would certainly aid in his recovery. His heart sunk. He screwed up. But there was no going back now—he was going on national television.

"Good afternoon, Equestria, and welcome back to Equestria Today! I am your host, Firetail, and as you know, my former co-host, Whittaker, resigned two months ago on a journey for retirement. With me is Ray Blitz," the orange pegasus turned his chair, keeping his eye on the camera while he gestured at Ray.

Shakily making eye contact with the lens, Ray sported a meek smile and very gently waved as the focus momentarily turned to him, before returning to Firetail, who tidied his script and placed it down in front of him. He rested one elbow on the glass tabletop, leaning closer to the camera slightly with his usual smile. Upon seeing himself on the monitor that presented the recording as it would be seen to viewers, Ray ultimately felt like shrinking behind the desk.

"Now, I'm certain we all saw this coming—Fleur Dis Lee is in yet another affair with Prince Blueblood! The gorgeous supermodel that virtually everypony in Equestria has come to know was caught having secret conversations at Cinnamon Chai's Tea and Cake Shop earlier this week with the brash and powerful nephew of Princess Celestia. The real question is, just what were they discussing this time?"

Shifting in his seat, Firetail stiffened his posture. "In other news, early this morning, the Lunar Navy deployed to sea under the veil of night. Top officials consider it a brash move in the wake of last month's catastrophic fiasco that took place the day of the diplomatic summit meeting at the United World of Countries, right here in Downtown Manehattan."

Ray kept his attention turned to the camera. He mentally slapped himself for continuing to smile like he was at that very moment. It wasn't a highly convincing one, although it showed he was definitely trying. It didn't help that nopony behind the cameras gave any sort of gesture as to whether or not he was doing well.

As Firetail continued to talk, however, the pegasus' attention soon lost focus as a rumble seemingly shook his body. He noted some of the others beginning to look around them curiously.

Ray's eyes then darted down to a glass of water on a coaster in front of him. He blinked a couple of times, examining it closer. Rings steadily growing in intensity formed along the surface, and soon the glass began rattling against the desk's surface. In that instance, Firetail abruptly silenced himself. His eyes widened, looking off to his immediate right.

Suddenly, an enormous jolt sent everypony in the room to the floor. Ray quickly grabbed onto the desk's top and pulled himself up just enough to peek over, as did the stallion to his right, looking around in a shocked panic.

"What's happening?!" yelled one of the cameraponies in a panic, attempting to get back on his hooves after his camera stand toppled over.

"Earthquake!" shouted the producer. "Under the desk, under the desk!" he barked as he too hurried to cover. Without a moment of hesitation, Ray and Firetail dove beneath the set to shield themselves from falling debris as the shaking rapidly worsened.

The studio lights flickered, and every fixture hanging from above swayed back and forth to the earth's motions. Some of the wiring suspending them above the set snapped, and heavy girders swung downward, smashing into one of the cameras and obliterating it upon impact. Sparks flew as set lights shattered and burnt out, and soon, the entire room went black as the power abruptly cut off.

***

First came the initial jolt; the primary waves. Looking down upon the streets below, a flood of brown dust speedily rolled across block after block, like a thin tsunami of soot rattling off of buildings. Lower Manehattan's skyline began to sway and rock to the ground's motions, the entire earth beneath it rippling with cracks. Jets of water shot from burst hydrants as the shockwave swept over them.

Each window in the office cracked in unison when the second jolt struck, and everything began to shake violently. Armet's desk rattled and his chair toppled over, followed by the few small objects on his desk that fell off only seconds later. A small tree's pot shattered when it hit the floor, spilling dirt across the royal-blue carpet that spread throughout the office. The next thing that Ash knew between momentarily blacking out from shock was that he now lay on his side on the floor, as if somepony took the end of a rug and yanked it, throwing his and Night's hooves out from underneath them.

Only roughly twenty seconds into the shaking, a skyscraper some three blocks east bellowed audible creaking and groaning as the steel beams in its frame bent and gave way from lack of proper quake-resistant construction. Night and Ash watched in absolute horror as the building steadily began to tilt sideways, its downward speed picking up as gravity took over with nothing to slow the descent.

One face struck the edge of shorter and much older brick building on the way down, turning the tower completely sideways. Upon impact, the whole structure shattered instantly and the debris crumbled before ultimately vanishing into a pluming cloud of dust in its wake. Whatever and whoever was in its shadow was no more at that point.

"What in the fuck did that little snot do?!" Night shouted, doing so in order to keep his volume above the roaring of the earthquake. Multiple possibilities ran through his head, questioning what on earth was happening and only managing to further bewilder himself in the process.

Fighting against the violent motions, Ash managed to bring himself on all fours by heaving himself up on the desk's side. He rushed up to his fellow Marine, stumbling about in the five steps it took to reach him and aiding in getting Night back on his hooves, too.

"We need to get out of here!" yelled Ash, making dead eye contact for a split second while tugging the draft stallion up. He dipped his head to shield it when one of the windows behind them shattered, raining large, thick shards of glass down upon the streets some twelve-hundred feet below.

At that, the moss-green earth pony made a beeline for the exit, throwing the door open and racing for the elevator at the end of the short corridor. "Ash, wait!" Night called, chasing after him as quick as his hooves would allow, bouncing off of the walls a couple of times to keep himself upright.

Just before Ash could reach the elevator, Night's hoof snatched him by the back collar. His hinds slipped out from under him from the stallion's momentum, only to be yanked back away from the elevator. The doors opened just in time for Ash to watch as the cart dropped, sparks flying from the brakes as safety mechanisms tried to prevent a free fall caused by the magnet's malfunction.

Ash watched in horror as the elevator vanished before his very eyes, knowing that could have been him in there, or accidentally fallen down one hundred and fifteen stories of elevator shaft to his demise. "Holy shit..."

"Stairs!" Night pulled him back further, gesturing to a labeled door further down.

"Right!" responded Ash with a nod, dashing toward the fire escape with Night tailing closely.

Pushing through the door, red flashing lights swirled all the way down the cinder block-lined stairwell. Some ponies who worked for GenTech on these floors were already hastily making their way to ground level. It was a long way down—risky, at that, but it was their only way out.

***

Multiple tones of beeping rang throughout the geology department as alarms sounded. Every non-idle computer in the center flashed with warnings as the shaking prolonged. The lights in the room flicked on and off as the power threatened to go out.

"Magnus!" cried Aphrodite, tugging Argonne under a work desk for their safety. She proceeded to conjure a shield spell to protect them both as a filing cabinet crashed down loudly on the side of the desk. "Where is it centered?!"

The brunette-coated Marine dove into cover, but not before reaching his hoof up to snatch his laptop down and opening the lid. "Come on, come on..." he grunted in annoyance as he impatiently waited for his computer to boot up.

At long last, his screen lit up with a map of the region and a signature out at sea, where red rings spread out from the center. "North Antlertic Ridge, Sergeant Major! It's a 7.9—no, wait! 8.2!"

"Depth?!" she queried.

"Undetermined!"

"Ugh!" she groaned, looking around at the chaos. Most of what wasn't heavy enough to sustain its own weight either fell over from where it sat or spread out across the floor. The bun-maned mare turned to the other unicorn she was protecting. "Where is Star Shooter?!"

"He has been missing for the past week, Sergeant Major!"

Aphrodite grunted at that, looking down at her hooves in worry. "Wherever he is, I pray he isn't caught up in this."

***

A light jump of turbulence startled me awake. Having dozed off three hours into the flight certainly helped pass the time, not to mention catch up on some sleep that I had significantly lost the night prior. Hell, I'm not sure I even slept at all last night.

Scanning my surroundings, I noted the majority of the lieutenant's ponies sitting quietly on the opposite side of the plane's cargo bay, still strapped in. I simply don't understand how all of them can sit in one spot for long periods of time, especially on one of the most uncomfortable seats I have ever plopped my ass down on.

They were similar to stadium benches in terms of comfort—or in this case, discomfort—albeit plastic and short. It essentially felt like it was nothing I was sitting on, and stretching out my back a little revealed a soreness in my spine that would only vanish after up time. Hopefully.

Sliding out of the harness-like seat belts and onto my hooves, I twisted my head until my neck softly popped, then rolled my shoulders to relax them. Doing so brought a soft, relieved mixture of a groan and a grunt out of me. I sat back down, this time not bothering to slip back into the harness and focused blankly down at the grated floor and my legs.

Before I could completely zone out, the intercom crackled as it was switched on. "Lieutenant, we need you up on the flight deck right away," called the captain as fleetingly brief as could be.

Looking across the hold, I watched Snow Storm get up and immediately turn his attention to me. He motioned his hoof for me to come along, climbing a near-vertical staircase along the forward bulkhead separating the cockpit from the cargo bay. It led to an extremely short and narrow, one-pony passageway directly to the flight deck. I followed him at my own pace, squeezing through behind him as he stood between the pilots' seats.

"What's the issue?" questioned Snow, dipping his head to just above their eye level.

The plane descended out of cloud cover, and the sight beyond the cockpit windows sent my mind into overdrive. Columns of smoke large and small rose from all parts of the city. A blanket of dust settled upon the area as far as the eye could see, only ending at the coast like an invisible barrier.

Fires dotted the streets, some of which originating from the upper floors of a few high rises and skyscrapers. One or two of these towers sat leaned up against others like toppled dominoes, threatening to either completely collapse or knock over the ones barely propping them up. In that very moment, I felt my heart stop for a good five seconds, and the silent tension rising among us four was nothing but manifest.

Without a word spoken between either of us in the moment, the first officer reached forward, twisting a knob on the dashboard to switch on the cockpit's speakers for us to hear. "This is coming through the VHF," he said. An emergency broadcast transmission from Joint Base Manehattan sounded audibly.

"All units this net. Be advised a catastrophic seismic event in Manehattan is affecting all operational capability in the Manehattan-Baltimare region. A tsunami advisory has been issued by the National Oceanic Watch Center for all areas along the northeast Equestrian coast. This net will be delivering updates as they become available."

"Seismic event?" blinked Snow. Recognizing that I knew more than he did at the moment, he turned to me for context.

The announcement left me in three different types of shock all at once. Meeting his gaze with my own, I replied through a terse exhale, "Earthquake. Armet must have activated the machine."

"That's not all. We have a problem at the airport," the captain added, banking the plane left, crossing the river and over west Bronclyn toward Manehattan International. It wasn't more than a few seconds when the airport came into sight; the closer we came, the more apparent the true scope of the calamity.

Cracks and fissures of varying length and depth riddled the streets. Some of the elevated bridges for Manehattan's vast system of rail lines lay in ruins, either entirely or partially collapsed and blocking roadways. One of the wings of the main terminal had part of its roof cave in, and most of the windows were blown out. To our disbelief, a large hangar that could easily fit three jumbo jets in one at the far side of the airfield sat almost entirely pancaked, crushing the wing of a parked airliner outside while firefighters attempted to douse the flames sparked from the fuel leak.

On the runways, two jets lay in pieces. Marks in the grass told the larger aircraft lost control on takeoff or landing, plowing into a commuter jet waiting on one of the taxiways. The blaze from that accident was intense all by itself and was the main focus of much of the airport's emergency services, likely to rescue survivors—from the larger plane.

"We are unable to patch through to air traffic control to coordinate an approach. ILS is down, and visual won't cut it with how jagged the runways are," said the first officer to Snow.

"Where are we going to land?" I blinked. This was going from bad to worse.

"We can't. Not in the city, at least. Nearest safe landing site is in Alderneigh, assuming their airport fared better," Snow responded with a calculating frown on his muzzle, giving a shake of his head. His crimson irides scanned over the horizon, across collapsed buildings and specs of ponies running for their lives. In that instance, above the tension of the moment, a light turned on in his head. "Get us up higher, there is equipment in the back to allot a drop. Circle until we are high enough, then head north after we jump."

The captain nodded acknowledgingly. "Roger that. Climbing to suitable jump altitude."

Just then, I felt the motions of the plane as the nose steeply climbed and began to rapidly gain altitude after the two pilots pulled gently back on the yokes. I threw a deadly, frightened glance at Snow as he led us out of the cockpit and down to the cargo hold. "J-jump?" was the only word I could muster.

Hooves clanking on the metal floor as he landed, Snow turned to his squad lined in their seats on his right. "Change of plan, boys. We're going to jump. Simply not enough time to land in Alderneigh and get to the city through other means."

***

The elevator doors parted, sliding open, but not completely as the maroon unicorn stepped off into the partially-lit command center. "What's our status?"

"Sir, most of our backup generators are up and running, but a few of our primary systems are down while they reboot after the power shortage."

"How long until launch?" Armet coldly asked.

"Sixteen hours, twenty-four minutes, sir. We are right on schedule."

"Excellent," Armet nodded, strolling nonchalantly down a short flight of stairs. He gazed up to an enormous screen covering much of the far wall with eight significantly smaller monitors on both sides, displaying different angles of radar, satellite imagery, and even security footage of key locations still up and running city-wide.

He trotted up to a circular platform and a tall round table lined around the back edge with a holographic lip. Upon placing his hoof on a small panel, the screen lighting up and sliding from top to bottom, the scanner accepted his hoof print and initiated the interface across a holographic display in a half-circle in front of and around him. It consisted of one single screen, but included multiple at the touch of both hooves placed on individual pads.

Swiping his hoof around, Armet enlarged live video feed of lower Manehattan before switching to one placed above the streets of Bridleway. In it showed a scene of total devastation. Whole faces of surrounding skyscrapers and other buildings lay in piles of rubble covering the street with small fires burning in various places. An enormous crack run through the intersection, large enough to where ponies below needed to leap across in order to reach the other side or simply loop around one end. Hundreds shifted about in packs with emergency service officials moving them along in two steady streams heading east and west.

Suddenly, a red window popped up in the center of the screen. Similar occurred across monitors throughout the expansive room with an alarm sounding. At the press of a button, Armet toggled the noise off and turned to one of his sentries. "What is it?"

"Unidentified aircraft has entered restricted Manehattan airspace, Armet, sir. Large military cargo plane, Egret C-17, heading east over Midtown at six-five-hundred, four-forty knots," the uniformed earth pony announced. He glanced up from his screen to look Armet dead in the eye. "Looks to be entering a loop above the city."

Armet clenched his teeth in frustration and grunted softly, turning back to his screen. Swiping and swirling his hoof on the touchpad, he blew up a real-time three-dimensional projection of the aircraft on the large monitor in front of them. It banked right, then began to climb steeply and gain altitude quickly. "Son of a bitch... they know they can't land, they are going to drop in from above." Within moments, however, a devious grin returned to the unicorn's muzzle. He muttered to himself, "But not if I have anything to say about it."

Returning his attention to the display before him, Armet Mace began moving both hooves as he quickly worked, typing hastily on a keyboard before him with the use of his magic to press the buttons. After a few minutes, his screen changed, now showing that of an offshore naval destroyer's targeting system and the array of weapons readily available to fire.

He chuckled lowly, stepping back from the panel and glancing up at the big screen as it now showed footage from the weather deck of the L.R.S. Gibbous, facing back toward the closed missile silos and the bridge. A twisted, sickly-minded grin crossed his muzzle, display transitioning to a targeting screen that automatically pinpointed the aircraft high above the city. "Let's have a little fun, shall we?"

Author's Note

And here it is, the longest chapter I have ever written. Not just the longest in Millennia, but of all time.

(EDIT): Chapter 46 is even longer, whoops.

45. Into the Eye of the Storm - Part III

Down seemingly endless flights of stairs whose structural integrity was jeopardized from the initial quake, the two Marines hastily started ushering frightened employees out of the damaged tower. High pitched one-tone alarms sounded throughout the lobby, reverberating off the fractured windows and walls in an ear-piercing manner as they ordered evacuation.

When Ashfall and Nightpath reached the lobby, a second, much stronger tremor launched its attack against the already-crippled city. Lights powered by backup generators flickered, leaving the ground floor in temporary veils of darkness as the shaking intensified.

A harmony of screaming and crying deafened the building's alarms as ponies in the tens squeezed out every possible exit, some even kicking out large glass panes to create other alternatives out to help frightened employees escape quicker. Chips of stone rained in pebbles while cracks licked along the high ceiling, threatening to drop weakened sections of the floor onto fleeing ponies and result in dozens of casualties.

Acknowledging the looming danger, both earth ponies opted against leaving until everyone was safely outside. Even then, they were unsure moving civilians out into the elements would be the wiser choice. Chunks of debris smashed into the ground as buildings of older construction crumbled and collapsed under their own weight, producing a hectic outdoor environment. Fire hydrants not previously affected burst one by one with jets of water shooting up two or three stories from the release of pressure, running newly-formed streams along curbs and inadvertently creating a monsoon across the island.

Water from ruptured pipes spilled down into the GenTech lobby, gradually gathering along the tiled floor with nowhere to go and creating a new hazard when snapped wiring still live with electricity hung dangerously close to the flood and dozens of ponies trying to make their way out.

"Ash, wires!" called Night warningly, glancing over the rushing crowds at his fellow Marine.

"On it!" Ash responded. Leaving his post near the door in replacement for a security guard, the moss-green stallion splashed his way to the utility room in the basement in search of the building's electrical breakers.

Anxious anticipation gripped the draft stallion as his attention darted between the hanging wires and the ponies running past him in a panic. Some of the unicorns among the crowd whisked up forcefields that protected small groups clustered near them while others unable to do so made use of briefcases to shield their heads from pieces of concrete raining upon them.

Moments later, the whole of the lobby went almost pitch black, signalling the electricity having been successfully manually cut by Ashfall. Frightened screams caused by the abrupt loss of power forced Night to pin his ears, and while the threat of mass electrocution had been eliminated, a new danger arose. Without light, the thinning herd of employees had instances of ponies stumbling over fallen objects or each other and added to the panic.

Night's ears perked to the cracking of cement above him. Lifting his gaze, he noted of a large concrete slab sinking, threatening to crush a mare who had tripped upon climbing out from under the receptionist's desk, unsuspecting of the danger. His dark cores shrunk to pinpricks, jumping straight to action as the chunk of ceiling started to give way.

Looking up just in time to see the piece of the above floor coming down, the buttermilk unicorn screamed and closed her eyes, raising her hoof in hopes that it would do something to protect her. Instead, Night leaped over the terrified mare and stood tall with his head dipped defensively. The heavy slab struck his spine and shoved his lower half down, forcing a pained bellow out of him. Despite the impact potentially causing significant damage to his back, the brown draft stallion continued to stand over the mare long enough to bark one last order.

"Go, get out of here!" he shouted through clenched teeth in repeat of his earlier encounter with her, except in a protective manner. Without hesitation or a single word spoken apart from a terrified sound, the unicorn scrambled to her hooves and rushed out the exit.

Finally, Night's forehooves lost balance, slipping out from under him. His chest splashed into the inch of pooling water, chin cracking the tile beneath and emanating a guttural noise as the second blow left him stunned. Eyes shut and teeth gritted, the dark-coated earth stallion weakly squirmed on the floor, half pinned beneath the broken slab settled across his rear. At that point, all he could do was shield himself with both hooves wrapped atop his crown and pray a loose girder doesn't finish him off.

"Night!" cried Ash, rushing from the stairwell doorway to his friend's side after having taken immediate notice of his situation. He grabbed one piece of the slab and tossed it sideways almost effortlessly, proceeding to slide the other off Night's flank and hinds until they were freed.

Ichor from the stallion's chin trickled into the water, producing a thin stream of sanguine originating from his muzzle in the pooling water. With his eyes hardly cracked open, Night blinked slowly. Though utterly stupefied from hitting himself on the hard surface and potentially internally wounded along his lower half, he was still very much alive.

Bringing the stallion's hoof up around the back of his neck, Ash worked the draft pony up to carry him out of the building, even as the shaking noticeably began to diminish, signalling the near end of the second event at long last. "Come on, buddy. Let's get you out of here."

***

"Easy does it..." grunted the stocky earth stallion in full firefighter's gear, easing down his end of the gurney until it gently met the ground.

Laying down the other end, I stood back up, glancing over the bleeding, quietly-sobbing mare laying on it. She pressed a cloth to her forehead to clean up the red that painted a quarter of her face down to her muzzle, holding it over top a gash cut open by a shard of glass fallen from a nearby building.

Plucking off his helmet, the taller stallion wiped his dusty sleeve across his sweat-slicked forehead before placing the piece back atop his crown and tipping it at me. "Thanks for your help."

I gave a single nod in return. "Of course. Anything else I could do?"

"Tell you what, there's some water by the generator. Would you mind going around with it?"

"I would be happy to." I smiled softly, starting toward the single diesel-powered generator keeping the area well-lit.

"One bottle per, that's what we are restricted to right now until we get our hooves on some more," the firepony called, tending to another pony in the midst of a panic attack, kneeling beside and attempting to console him.

Near the edge of the tiny relief camp sat most of the gathered resources necessary to support a few hundred to a thousand at a time. Alas, with a city of millions in need of the drastically limited amount of first responders' aid, not everypony in the hundreds that passed by every few minutes could have what little food and water we had. Despite word of ships carrying supplies from neighboring cities inbound and due to arrive overnight, it was uncertain whether or not they would be able to. Trotterdam Tower's beacon lights were intended to serve as a lighthouse for arriving vessels, but in the wake of its collapse, nothing shined skyward, and with the vast majority of maritime guidance stations out of service or completely destroyed, our ships had been sailing blind in the dark and will continue to be until dawn arrives.

Orders by a police sergeant taking command were that only those with moderate to severe injuries receive adequate treatment with the available supplies. It was a tough decision on her part, one neither of us working around the place keeping it running fully agreed with, though sacrifices had to be made. To our relief, no rioting had sprung up as a result as one would expect in such a calamity. I imagine it won't be long before there is, however.

Taking a pack of sixteen plastic bottles and cutting open the wrapping for easy access, I began carrying it around on my back, handing out water after water to victims scattered about either standing, sitting, or laying down. It was advised of them to conserve as much of it as possible while supplies dwindled. However, it wasn't required of them to follow instructions in any way.

Some forty or fifty ponies occupied the camp for aid, the grand majority of which suffering some type of treatable wounds with a few in between inflicted with borderline life-threatening injuries. The sight was absolutely sickening, even to those with a stomach of steel. Blood was tolerable, knowing how many times I've seen it just in the past twelve months alone. It was the more severe lacerations and gorier afflictions where areas beneath the flesh were showing. A couple of times I found myself gagging, threatening to lose a lunch I never had.

One of the younger fireponies working actually did, utilizing a nearby fissure to dispose of his contents without contaminating the environment above ground. The last thing we needed to be concerned about was the spread of disease, which was bound to happen as well in the state of total discord mercilessly gripping the region.

On top of that, only a select few radios were usable for first responders to communicate. Even then, frequency connection was spotty at best and transmission disruptions were all too common. It sparked concern, though not nearly as much as my own. Heavy doubt in my mind told me no police officer and no firefighter was truly aware of the situation, and despite the urgency of it all, the disaster and its severity inflicted across the general populace came first and foremost.

Without the helmet from the skydive, I wouldn't know if Lieutenant Snow Storm had been attempting contact since landing some nine hours ago, and once more I was separated from my platoon and short of proper orders from Hardstaff. While I was, in fact, helping out where summoned, I felt an overbearing perception that my presence was gravely needed elsewhere.

But where could I go? I lacked the trust in myself to fly across the river after narrowly surviving a fall without a parachute on a literal wing and a prayer. Subway tunnels around the city were caved in or at risk of, and word came that the main thoroughfare bridges leaving Manehattan Island were severed by the first quake with some rumors sliding that their peculiar similarly-timed destruction rather was caused by reported detonations of sorts, leading to my own personal speculation that Armet strictly does not want anypony leaving, whatever his next intentions may be.

Passing out water to the victims taken in was a part of the simpler tasks, one that was also satisfactory. It brought warmth to my heart to be helping these poor ponies who have quite possibly lost everything, providing a temporary shelter until support from neighboring areas is able to reach us and the process of full-scale recovery initiates. I paused to help one colt shaking like a leaf take gentle sips from his bottle, his voice rendered gravelly from dire thirst. Over no more than a minute, he was able to speak without coughing up a lung. He and his accompanying mother showed individual appreciation by giving quick hugs, which I promptly returned. It was small things like these that made me proud to serve.

However, the spurt of fulfillment was abruptly ended by the intermittent beeping of the ham radio set up inside the main tent, sounding an emergency tone that I recognized immediately. The two police officers and five firefighters around the small camp immediately stopped what they were doing and gathered under the cover to listen to the transmission. I didn't have to go very far to hear what was said with the volume being as high as it was. In that instance, as I stood up from the mare and her foal, the tension in the air went static.

"Attention all maritime operators and emergency responders in the area. At 1740 local time, the Coast Guard station at Point Haven is reporting buoy anomalies approximately fifty-two nautical miles due east-northeast of the city and port of Manehattan. Large scale tidal wave imminent as a result of major seismic disturbances in the region. Any and all vessels in the Port of Manehattan are advised to sail eastward or upstream before the wave crests and makes landfall. A tsunami warning is also being issued immediately for much of the north and south coast neighboring the city of Manehattan, and tsunami advisories are in effect from Alderneigh to Horseshoe Bay. Waves are expected to top forty to over forty-five meters within the hour. Civilians near the coast are gravely ordered to move inland as quickly as possible."

At that, the message began to repeat itself, albeit drowned out this time by the sudden chatter between police officers and firefighters discussing a plan. With the predicted height of the tsunami, where we now stood in Manehattan will be completely washed away by roughly one hundred and fifty feet of rushing seawater. Many low-rise structures would be submerged instantly, and skyscrapers weakened by the two quakes wouldn't stand a chance against the momentum of that much water crashing into them.

As if the situation could not get any worse, it did, as we now had tens of immobilized wounded to move out of harm's way in such a limited time window, not to mention the hundreds of others currently heading the opposite direction of the advised evacuation route, oblivious to the newly-announced threat.

Just as the arguing had begun inside the tent, a stern voice bellowed above the ambiance of the surrounding crowds. Glancing in the direction of the new voice, my sights fell upon a golden earth pony whose coat spectacularly shimmered with the texture of crystals. His armor, a purplish silver with the gloss of diamonds, represented the uniform of the Crystal Empire Royal Guard. Ponies halted in their tracks, turning their undivided attention to him as he stood tall atop an abandoned taxi carriage and boomed with an authoritative, yet soliciting demeanor.

"On behalf of the orders of Prince Shining Armor, any and all able and ready unicorns are requested to muster at Batterneigh Park as soon as possible. Time is of the essence! If you wish to volunteer, keep moving east. The rest of you, especially pegasi and earth ponies, follow the designated evacuation routes and head inland, as far away from the ocean as possible!"

***

“Command, this is Gibbous. Do you read me? Over.”

Silence was all that returned. Not even the slightest of static.

Grunting in frustration, Fair Winds brought the receiver back to his muzzle in yet another attempt. “Command, this is Gibbous. Do you read me? Over!”

Again, no response. The radio was still dead after hours of tinkering, fried beyond repair by the electromagnetic pulse. Furiously, the turquoise stallion threw down the receiver hard enough to crack the plastic.

"Fucking hell..." he said in exasperation, rubbing his forehead. "No surface radar, no VHF... nothing."

"Captain, sir," began the quartermaster, shining a dying flashlight over his work station. "If we can't change course or escape the wave, we will wash up somewhere in Manehattan. Perhaps a few miles inland."

"I am acutely aware of this, Petty Officer. But I'm afraid there isn't much we can do from here on out. Even if we do restore power and attempt to realign the ship's stability, what's stopping us from capsizing at the slightest of adjustments?" Fair Winds remarked, before turning his attention out the window to the Aphelion, trapped beside their vessel along the front of the tidal wave. A faint light cast upon either ship as the distant sky gave birth to dawn light of the approaching sunrise. "It's a miracle we haven't already."

"What do you suggest we do then, Captain? Two hundred and eighteen of us on board. Combined that's roughly four hundred lives at stake!" queried the officer of the deck, desperately seeking orders, as were just about anypony else on board.

With a stern tone, the commanding officer glanced between the silhouetted sailors on the bridge. "Start prepping the crew for when we make landfall. We get as close to Manehattan or directly into as quartermaster predicts, there will be plenty of shit we'll make contact with that will cause hull damage. If we start taking on water at any given time, we damn might as well have the crew topside to jump overboard should the time call for it."

***

Sweeping the block one final time, ensuring no soul lingered about and headed west, my patrols looped me back around to the vacant camp. There, only those working by my side previously to tend to the wounded, now striving to make sure everypony left safely and orderly, remained. While some ponies still strolled by, they moved in the direction instructed and no arguments of anyone trying to go into the danger rather than away from it were created.

Compared to how it was a mere half hour ago, the block in which the camp was set up on now sat strictly void of life. Where crowds once streamed past in routes to leave the island, perhaps one or two stray civilians hurried by, running for their lives ahead of the flood.

Emergency protocol ordered a prioritized evacuation of the wounded, particularly the severely injured. As such, the forty or so ponies we had taken charge in caring for were quickly airlifted by pegasi paramedics due to conditions being too hazardous for a helicopter to squeeze between the buildings and land. That, and it would kick up a blinding dust that would slow efforts to a crawl. With little time to work with, the last thing we needed was something like that.

"Area's clear from what I can tell," I reported to the sergeant, gathered with another officer and a firepony.

"Excellent." She nodded once, looking between us three. "Our work here is done, gentlecolts."

"Ma'am, what about the supplies? Not all of it has been moved, we can't afford to lose more of our scarce resources," the firepony remarked, pointing his hoof to the small collection of boxes and packs of water stacked a couple yards away.

The mare officer shook her head. "No time, Hydrant. Civilians first, then ourselves. That wave is coming in faster than a bullet. One more second spent moving shit that ain't breathing and don't have a family is one less second we have ahead of certain death. Now, all of you, get yourselves someplace safe."

At her orders, her fellow officer threw up a firm salute. Hydrant tipped his helmet. I gave a nod, then a respectful salute. Regardless of what she was, the mare held authority over us, and she outranked me anyway.

The four of us parted ways. All three started moving west, further away from the shore. But me, I headed straight for it. Prince Shining Armor ordered unicorns to the park at the east end of the island, evidently with a plan that could save the city. I myself had orders to leave, though nothing stopped curiosity from its will on my body.

On approach to Batterneigh Park, it became increasingly difficult to navigate as the crowds thickened. Most of these ponies were unicorns, with the exceptions of a few pegasi and earth ponies in the mix. Despite the mass evacuations, it seemed interest in observing gripped a large number of frightened civilians in the same manner as it did me.

Pulling up as far as I could go and as close as possible, my sights raised above the wide collection of heads and horns of varying length, setting upon a tall, snow-white stallion with a mane of two-toned blues, bright and dark, bouncing gently to the ocean breeze, his figure somewhat silhouetted by the coming sunrise.

"That wave will kill thousands if we don't do anything to stop it!" bellowed the Crystal Prince, pointing a hoof seaward, his assertive yet phlegmatic voice carrying over the expansive crowd of unicorns all shapes and size, military and civilian, with equal weight and volume.

"I am going to form a shield, but I won't nearly be strong enough to bear the weight of the water. Its momentum alone will shatter it upon impact. It is a lot to ask for, but I need everypony to put everything they've got into holding the shield for me! Pick a panel and stick with it!"

A barricade of police and fire formed a tight meat wall along the rear of the gathering to keep others out. Those not participating had firmly asked us, even ordered to leave the area. Among the discord sprung up some fights where friends or family begged their loved ones to run with them and not stay behind as volunteers. It was somewhat harrowing to say the least. Despite all of the conflict, all of the turmoil, these brave souls stayed put.

Hundreds. Thousands. Never before had I seen so many unicorns in one spot at one time. There simply had to have been twice as many mustered at Batterneigh Park than there are residing in Canterlot as a whole. It was truly an astonishing sight to see.

Most of the other bystanders were frozen by fear or acknowledged running wouldn't matter should the plan fail. By now, any unicorn or earth pony still in lower Manehattan couldn't escape the flooding streets in time, even if the shield did buy them a minute or two. The only escape route was up, and frankly, none of the surrounding skyscrapers were stable enough to take refuge in. At this point, I could have flown away for my own safety, but what kind of a coward would that make me?

Minutes later, the water along the edge of Batterneigh started to lower. Whichever way one looked, you could see the mouths of either river and their heavy contents beginning to drain into the Antlertic, pulling islands of debris having fallen into them. Stationary boats unable to get upstream in time struck the ocean floor as waters completely receded, feeding the gigantic wave cresting the eastern horizon, shadowed by the rising sun off in the distance. As it drew nearer, it engulfed the sun, casting Manehattan in darkness once more.

Ponies stranded on their beached watercrafts made a run for it while they had time, including members of the Coast Guard whose own small boats were unable to elude the draining harbor's will and scraped against solid ground. A thick layer of quicksand-like mud that thirty, in some spots even fifty feet of ocean once covered made efforts to escape difficult and trapped some unable to fly or teleport their way to safety.

Some weren't ready to watch those innocents be washed away. Quick-thinking pegasi heroically raced out to those stuck and returned them to shore, and soon, essentially everypony not airborne was safe and sound—for now.

The light blue irides of Shining Armor glared right at the face of furious nature. He knew the odds were ultimately against him, and everypony standing by his side. His confidence in their ability to save Manehattan from being washed off the map and potentially millions of lives being lost had only two possible outcomes. The risks were there, but, nothing else could be done to stop the oncoming danger.

"Ready?!" he shouted, voice booming over the low rumble as he gave one last glance over his shoulder to the horde of reluctant, yet confident ponies backing him up.

It was an astounding sight indeed. Tens of unicorns, potentially in the hundreds—thousands, even—ignited their horns in preparation. The combined noise of magic casting echoed for blocks. Shining Armor's horn lit up in its bright magenta hue, sitting idle as he waited for the right moment.

The wave roared, its mighty rumble quaking the ground beneath our hooves and rattled surrounding buildings, even breaking windows weakened by the two prior tremors. Some ponies ducked and covered, believing it was the start of another aftershock. Many of those who stayed to watched the wave took off in all directions as it approached and gathered height as it reached shallower waters.

Pegasi instinctively snatched up random ponies off of the ground and began carrying them to nearby rooftops as a last ditch effort to move others out of harm's way. A few of them were quick enough to make more than one run, or able to carry two or three ponies at a time. Most of the stronger pegasi consisted of Marines, firefighters, police officers, and even some of Shining Armor's crystal guards.

One could feel the overall fear of ponies rise as the wave grew larger, mere seconds away from making landfall. Boats large and small shoaled by the waters receding were picked up along the front of the wave or completely smashed upon impact, or vanished beneath the surface with no signs of coming back up.

"Now!" boomed Shining Armor. Like a bullet shot from a sidearm, an aural beam of arcane magenta shot forward, powering a barrier thin as paper yet strong as titanium that stretched both horizontally and vertically to compensate the tsunami's width and height. It stretched along the coast as far as the eye could see, effectively guarding every last inch of Manehattan from north to south.

Only seconds later, the combined onomatopoeia of magic casting loudly reverberated off the Manehattan skyline. A rainbow of alternating color struck the bubble at once, thickening and reinforcing it with the might of tens of hundreds. The blinding light produced forced many behind them shielded their eyes long enough to adjust, including myself.

Every pony braced for impact. The total momentum water's high-speed collision along miles of pure magical energy was powerful enough to shove the entire barrier back three and a half feet, digging up mud along the bottom that cemented it in place. Like a bomb had been detonated, it shook the earth, startling many. Efforted grunts emanated throughout the crowd as some of the weaker unicorns present struggled to hold their designated panel with equal strength as the rest.

Water climbed along the side of the vertically-sloping shield as the sea behind the start of the wave began to collect with nowhere else to go but up. It rose many stories over us, blanketing the park in total darkness. Terrified innocents screamed, bracing themselves to be swept away at any moment when the forcefield breaks. I even ducked beside another stallion, half protectively covering him. Come to my surprise, however, nothing happened, compelling me to look up and around.

"Th-that's it!" shouted Shining Armor through a mixture of a groan and a grunt, his eyes tightly shut as he focused every bit of energy in him to holding the shield. "Just... nnngh... a little while longer!"

As if the tsunami itself wasn't enough, many of the marine vessels carried along with it—including the Gibbous and the Aphelion at the mercy of the wave—smashed into the barrier with enough force to crush their hulls inward. The Aphelion struck bow-first at a thirty-degree angle, sending the stern spinning sideways to impact seconds after.

Consequently, the destroyer's bow was rendered downright unrecognizable; the steel twisted many tens of feet sideways with stress cracks lining the starboard. Its momentum as it struck was even strong enough to bend its mast at the center point toward the shield, where it crashed against, leaving cracks in the bubble, like after shooting at ballistic glass.

Somehow, against all odds and the crushing weight of multiple ships and millions of tons of tsunami moving at the speed of a freight train, the shields held strong. A shadow loomed across the park as fifteen stories of ocean sloshed terrifyingly against the enormous bubble. With a burst of additional energy depositing into the shields by more unicorns opting to join in on the efforts, the fractures gradually healed until they were no more, and at long last, the ships and everything else caught and tossed like toys slowly shifted away from the shield as some of the ocean had already begun to recede back out to sea. As a result, the bow of the Aphelion dipped below the gigantic wave's surface as it took on water, but proceeded no further than to swallow the forward weather deck as it bobbed gently along the top.

After a five-minute battle, one that seemed to last much longer and defied all likelihood and possibly physics as we knew it, the signal came for ponies to lay off. The forcefield was now stable enough to sustain the tsunami's weight long enough for it to fully withdraw.

A multitude of unicorns came dangerously close to passing out from prolonged use that spent most of the magical energy within them, yet their weakened state did nothing to quell the unified cheering that erupted throughout all of lower Manehattan. It was a miracle. By the valiant acts of hundreds of civilians, ones that could have instead long left and watched as their home was wiped clean off the map, we were all saved, as well as hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions more beyond.

***

Soft, polite and brief slurps were among the few noises in the quiet control room as the maroon unicorn savored a mug of fresh coffee, suspended midair by his own blue sparkling aura gripping the handle. After each swig, the scheming stallion would temporarily place the all-white cup on a levitating coaster beside his chair as he worked.

It was merely a minor setback losing his pulse device. The damage to vital infrastructure had been done, though much of his plan was now in jeopardy with the looming threat of widespread flooding that would most certainly delay the next step on the list. The notion of further obstruction caused a headache for him, both figuratively and literally as thought after thought pondering moves on the board in his one-player game of chess processed through his riled genius.

When the elevator doors at the rear of the expansive room opened, down trotting one of his trusted skippers, he rubbed his temple in annoyance as the migraine intensified to the added noise.

"S-sir, Prince Shining Armor has rallied the city's unicorns at Batterneigh Park! They are stopping the tsunami!" the stallion announced as he pulled up short of his commander's station.

Swiveling his chair, Armet Mace stood, looking somewhat surprised. "Pull up eyes of the park at once. I want to see it myself!"

In the immediate seconds following his order, the main digital monitor in front of the room lit up with a singular screen of colored miniature drone footage hovering near the park, situated high enough up to where the majority of the area and the hundreds of unicorns mustered below now came into view for everypony present.

The sight was absolutely spectacular. A sturdy wall of pure magical energy in a shade of dark magenta half as high as a skyscraper had been placed down in the bone-dry harbor stood tall with perhaps a thousand or more individual beams shooting from every unicorn gathered below, putting everything they had in them to sustain the shield against the massive tidal wave's weight and the many large vessels being shoved into it.

In his years of witnessing some truly astonishing moments, particularly his own scientific breakthroughs, this one, by far, left Armet in total shock and awe. For a good two minutes, there were no words spoken by anypony in the control room. Everyone had paused in what they were doing simply to watch the scene unfold before their very eyes, as well as occur right above their heads. A waging war between the power of nature and pony gradually leaned in favor of the latter.

With his mind cleared enough to finally form a response, shifting to his next thought process, Armet muttered audibly, "All that magic..." he chuckled darkly afterward. "Look at all of it. Isn't it just beautiful?"

Blinking in utter disbelief as he too watched, unable to look away from the screen, Armet's skipper nodded slowly. "It is, sir."

A wily grin crossing his muzzle, without removing his eyes from the screen, the maroon stallion addressed for all to hear, "Commence phase two!"

***

Hours past dawn, and once waters receded to a safe level, the shield incrementally lifted to let the rivers to steadily fill on their own and securely grant transportation via boat to mainland Equestria. Any vessel large and small not damaged from beaching or untouched by the tsunami itself was then utilized for evacuation efforts by mandate.

Having since handed off Nightpath to medical personnel to treat his injuries sustained in the second quake, Ashfall took up volunteer work in the endeavor to move shaken civilians to designated locations in surrounding areas of the city. While greatly concerned for his friend and battle-buddy's well-being, aiding fellow Marines and first responders came before even himself, and he knew the help was desperately needed.

"The Harmony Island Ferry, commonly known amongst Manehattaners to routinely shuttle ponies to and from the Statue of Harmony, has now been transformed into an emergency transport vessel to move civilians trapped on Manehattan Island across the river, where a large relief camp has been set up at the joint naval base in Bronclyn," addressed a news reporter of a local station, stood tall before a camera mounted atop his companion's shoulder, at one of the boarding docks where a double-decker ferry sat idle, taking on as many ponies it could carry at one time and undoubtedly occupying more than it was built to handle.

"With train service suspended, and all bridges in shambles, taking a boat is currently the only way off the island. For those of you watching this broadcast that may own any type of watercraft larger than a jet ski, Mayor Gold Pendant orders it be indefinitely commandeered by the Coast Guard and Lunar Navy, as help is, for the time being, a scarce commodity in our fair city."

In a shift of his immediate attention, the moss-coated earth pony took notice of the pegasus off to the side of the line. He briefly abandoned his post to approach the two and request they follow instructions. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to board the ferry. It is imperative to your safety that you do."

The reporter glanced over his shoulder, spinning to directly face the stallion and having to slightly look up in order to make eye contact. "Not yet, we aren't done here!" he sternly protested.

Ash narrowed his reddish irides on to the slightly shorter greyish-blue pegasus, speaking with an authoritative, condescending tone. "On the ferry, now! I won't ask again."

Not intimidated by the Marine who, overall, was physically larger, the pegasus scoffed, gesturing to his camerapony. Lowering the device from his shoulder, the duo reluctantly proceeded to file in with the tightly-packed cluster of civilians squeezing onto the boat as ordered.

At the blow of a whistle on an officer's person, Marines untied the vessel from its moors, allowing it to drift away from the jetty. With aid from its rudders, it turned slowly, aiming for the opposite side of the massive waterway. Once a safe distance from the shoreline, its twin engines hummed to life and began propelling it to the other shore.

As Ash turned focus back to his duties, he was stopped by a familiar voice calling his name from somewhere amidst the crowd. Glancing in the direction it originated, his gaze set upon two sailors looping around a line of dust-covered civilians.

"Anchor, Silver? Ah, thank fuck!" Ash hooked a swift arm around the pegasus' neck, bringing him into a rough, cordial hug, patting his back firmly before backing off with a hoof placed on his shoulder. "Didn't think you guys would be back so soon."

"Yeah, neither did we," commented Silver, visibly shaken and wiping down his blouse.

"I heard there was a huge ass tsunami, but Shining Armor was still in town, and he—"

"We know, Ash. We were there."

The moss stallion blinked twice, bewildered. "You... were?"

Anchorage gave a curt nod of his head. "Had to abandon ship 'cause it was takin' on water in the harbor. Carried Silver off the stern chopper pad, and we had to fly high up to cross the forcefield."

In realization, Ash's eyes widened. "So you were... damn. Are you hurt?"

Silver shook his head firmly. "No, surprisingly."

A pair of ice blue cores glared cold daggers at the beige unicorn. "Speak for yourself, I'm gonna be sore for a whole week!" retorted Anchorage, rubbing a shoulder bruise under his sleeve caused by a flying tool. He softened his glare, looking back at Ash. "Where's Night? Weren't you with him?"

The moss stallion softly grunted at that. "Being treated at Joint Base Manehattan's relief camp. Dumbass jumped under a falling beam to protect somepony, probably broke his spine. I hope he didn't, obviously, but he could have."

"Shit..." was all the pegasus' could say as his gaze faltered, half stunned hearing this news.

Silver cocked his head a little, briefly studying the taller pony's form for notable differences. "What about you? Are you okay?"

Ash gave an affirming, yet unsure-of-himself nod. "As well as I can be right now, just trying to move the—"

"Look out!"

At the sudden call-out, the Marines and few sailors posted along the dock ducked down as something faster than a bullet whisked over them. No more than a second later, a massive explosion rocked the jetty, completely engulfing the ferry not even halfway across the river.

Countless from the shoreline observed in absolute horror as flames spread out in a shockwave as far as ten feet from the ferry's hull across the water, dispersing into smoke, while a towering ball of fire wider than the watercraft itself rose skyward, and pieces of the ferry flew every which way, ejected many hundreds of feet airborne by the explosion. Screams of all sorts confusingly came from all around as innocents scattered. Ponies that managed to survive on the ferry leaped off into the water to douse the flames eating at their coat and flesh, but it wasn't to last. Leaked fuel and oil spreading out from the boat's tanks instantly ignited the water surface, essentially trapping those still on board.

The pained cries of those burning alive struck every Marine and sailor present with a mutual weight. Uncovering and lifting his head, Ashfall's stupefied sights refused to flick away from the ferry, having only moments prior been carrying nearly two hundred with not one of those souls expecting it. His ears tried to pin back as hurt gripped his essence, but were ultimately stopped inside his helmet.

Four pegasus Marines lined up along the edge, preparing to fly over and pull survivors to safety, only to be stopped by a staff sergeant's order to stay put, assuring there was nothing that could be done. To their disconcert, the pegasi reluctantly moved back from the water as they were instructed.

Along Ash's side, both Anchorage and Silver Edge also watched much less in horror, but shock, for they had just once more witnessed murder; not of one or two, or a thin group, but masses. Tens of innocent civilians, gone in one second. By then, every pony who wasn't military or emergency services had fled the scene as the threat of another strike against them loomed menacingly.

Shouting over the roar of the flames many yards away, a first lieutenant barked an order both aloud and through a hoofheld radio in contact with a pair of helos in the area. "Get me eyes on whoever or whatever fired that missile!"

Ashfall's gaze fell to his gloved hooves and the rifle dangling from his neck. In that very instance, all sound seemed to fade as he drowned out the chaos around him. His jaw hung slack, gone limp by every one of his senses falling victim to trauma. A form of pained emptiness and a feeling of failure filled his core, numbing a deadly combination of emotions deep within.

Pushing himself to all fours with the barrel of his rifle, Ash began to walk slowly away from the jetty. Silver and Anchor watched their friend drift elsewhere, exchanging glances with one another before following behind.

The moss-green stallion walked into a corner diner, trashed by the disaster with broken plates, rotting food, and other fallen objects littering the once-pristine tile flooring. Mirrors lined the back wall behind the counter, some cracked or completely shattered already with only one remaining perfectly intact. A sudden burst of rage surged throughout Ashfall, compelling him to snap the chin strap of his helmet in two as he ripped it clean off of his crown, tossing it straight into the glass at full strength.

The force of the top of his helmet striking the mirror cracked it, raining tiny shards chipped off the center point onto the floor. Chest heaving, eyes furiously staring at the damage he had caused, Ash's rump fell to the floor atop a pile of strewn napkins. He lifted a hoof, running it through his messy walnut mane, where he then began to silently cry to himself in the vacant restaurant.

Anchorage and Silver rushed in, halting just beyond the doorway when the two's gazes set upon the grieving Marine. Minding their step of potentially hazardous objects under their hooves, they approached carefully.

A singular tear rolled down the roughened stallion's cheek, choking over his own words as he spoke. "I... I made them get on that boat..."

"Ash..." Silver pulled up short of him, dipping his head to eye level with the earth stallion, hoping to console his friend. "It's not your fault. You didn't see it coming."

"I told them they would be safe... all of them! As they walked past me, I told them they would be fine, that... everything... would be fine!"

"Not... everypony can be saved, Ash. You gotta understand that," said Anchorage, retaining a softened tone. While shock still very much had a firm hold on him as well, his attempt intended to coerce Ash out of something potentially stupid.

"But I could have fucking done something!" Ash snapped his head around, his tear-glazed, reddish cores blazing with lamented fury, Silver recoiling and back stepping a couple paces. "Instead there's a hundred and eighty charred, dismembered bodies floating upstream! Tell me, how does that make either of you feel?"

Taken slightly aback, the unicorn and pegasus were at a loss for any sort of response. Ash did have reason to sulk, regardless of whose fault it was then. He knew the missile wasn't of his doing, though it weighed heavily on his shoulders as if it were.

"I'm waiting..." spoke Ash lowly, narrowing his stabbing sights on the two. His body trembled at the boiling of his own blood, already livid for the destruction Armet inflicted upon his city and Nightpath's consequential injuries. Watching helplessly as a boat packed with scared civilians violently exploded was the icing on the cake for him.

"Listen, Ash. Neither of us are brushing it off," Anchorage innocently began, trying at a new approach. "In fact, I'm fuckin' pissed. But I am not about to let that get in the way of my duties when they come to me. Ponies died, they were slaughtered right in front of us. That's where we instead focus on saving those that desperately need it. I ain't goin' to give in to an endless loop of bickerin' to myself about what I could've done much less let it linger and fog my mind in a fight if it comes to that and focus on what I should do to save more lives. I sure as hell ain't about to let you stoop into that abyss, either, ya hear?"

The moss stallion stared in total silence, softening the glower on his countenance. He lifted a hoof, rubbing tears from his glassy eyes along his dirtied sleeve, sniffing heavily to clear his nostrils. "I hear you."

Sighing softly, the pegasus continued, shifting his folded wings. "I ain't askin' ya to be a machine, Ash. At the end of the day, we're all pony. But we need your mind in the game. They, need your mind in the game, because right now, they need a figure to stand tall for them and offer security in a time of despair. You might have your personal reasons, as does everypony in their own case, but this is the real reason we signed those papers. We are who those poor ponies look up to. What good does it do to show weakness before them when now is the moment to be strong?"

Setting a gentle hoof on his shoulder in a cordial gesture, the greyish-white northern pegasus steadily locked his cold blue irides with flaming red. "We are goin' to find Armet, and we're goin' to make him pay," he affirmed, hoping this would spark motivation in his companion. "For home, for family, for country."

Another period of quiet pervaded the diner that lasted no more than a couple of seconds, broken by the shifting of Ash's gear as he straightened his spine, perked his ears, and stiffened his mien. "Oorah."

Then, a distant impacting thump gently shook the ground below their hooves, alarming the three and everypony else outside.

"D-did you feel that?" whispered Silver as his heart raced, looking around them alertly as another thud rattled the area.

This time, it wasn't an earthquake.

Author's Note

This chapter would have been much longer originally, but I felt it might have carried on for too long. Instead what wasn't included will start off chapter 46.

Four chapters left.

46. Into the Eye of the Storm - Part IV

By late afternoon, the smoky streets of lower Manehattan had long cleared of civilians. After the shield dispersed and the threat of flooding no longer persisted along the shoreline, normal evacuations recommenced, and although no one was around to give orders, it became a personal mission of mine to track down anypony hiding out and get them off the island. Surely there would be one or two out here too scared to leave alone.

The horrid stench of natural gas and leaking sewage permeated the atmosphere, though at this point I'd long acclimated to it, as much as I hate to admit. If this doesn't count as the true suck as some of the more hardcore and longer-serving Marines mention from time to time, I can't begin to fathom what does.

As I strolled along cracked sidewalks and past shattered storefronts, memories of the past came full circle. Distant pops of explosions brought reminiscences of the day the Constitution inflicted chaos upon the city, when we ran out of Anchorage's dormitory and gazed out over the foggy skyline to see columns of smoke rising from the financial district. It took every ounce in me to keep myself in line wandering the city alone.

The destruction, while easily ten times worse than the December attacks, brought me back to the street ambush when jets carpet bombed the area to hold enemies back, where two Marines perished. Many more including myself could have been killed had it not been for my quick thinking, or Snow Storm's advice that guided me to stopping a rocket-propelled grenade from wiping out two whole platoons storming an enemy-infested city block.

By some miracle, what remained of my sanity held steady, albeit dangling from a splitting, paper-thin thread. Wandering the city alone and having to bear witness to the apocalypse as it occurred around me forced myself into conserving my senses by drowning out what I could and neglecting to study my surroundings which, admittedly, was not the brightest idea then, realizing at any moment a building could drop on my head and crush me. Danger aside, doing so severely limited my perception when scouting out survivors, being the entire reason I hadn't made my way back to base just yet.

Suddenly, a firm tug below the shoulder yanked me sideways by a grasping arm I did not see in the quickness of the moment, swiftly pulling me into a narrow passageway on my right before my muscles even had time to react. I yelped in alarm, flapping my wings defensively and threw a blind hook with my free hoof to catch whoever or whatever grabbed me, only to be forced against the roughly-textured, cracked concrete wall with a grunt that forced half of the wind from my lungs.

My mind raced in various directions as adrenaline kicked in, blinding me temporarily from reality. Not knowing what to think or expect, I thrashed around in retaliation, only to be firmly held in place against the wall. Sharpened ends of what turned out to be a claw clutched over my muzzle, silencing any noise made in the struggle.

"Shh, shh, easy. I'm not going to hurt you," the figure asserted, keeping his volume low between the two of us. That, however, wasn't enough to fully relax me.

Opening my eyes to finally see what snatched me, my sights first met with the beak of a griffon and its fuzzy white cheeks, its talon still covering my mouth without digging in to cheek flesh. Looking up just a hair, the larger, stockier figure donned a dark blue tactical helmet with goggle attachments in the upright position, among other matching militaristic gear. Raising his other talon, the griffon flicked up his gold-shaded visor to expose his pear-green cores and make steady eye contact in an attempt of a show of trust.

Out of mild shock, I kicked my hind leg forward, only for it to harmlessly bounce off his chest plates and bring a low grunt out of him as I attempted a second time at freeing myself. He dug his claws slightly to pinch and nothing more, forcing me to stop squirming yet again. "M-mmph!" I winced, eyes widening.

"I said..." he leaned closer, applying pressure to my torso. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Finally able to smack his claw away, I panted in both adrenaline, but also trying to breathe normally with the weight on my chest. "Kind of funny for you to say that in the middle of squeezing the breath out of me!"

"Sorry," he apologized, setting me down as gentle as can be. That's definitely a first for this situation.

Standing on four hooves, I wiped down my vest, despite it being as dirty as can be from all of the soot floating about. "You're a griffon. What reason do I have to trust you?" I snarled, glaring up at the larger figure no more than a half a foot taller than me now that we both stood upright.

"Oi, what did I say, Captain?" chirped what I could assume to be one of his squad mates, or friends. Or both. Clearly they were trained operatives, considering the correlating gear they all wore. "We get a bad rep from these ponies. Should've let 'em kill him."

Glancing over his shoulder, the griffon who I now knew as their commanding officer spoke in a language I didn't recognize. Judging by the other's expression in response, perhaps he told him to shut up, and so he did.

"Disregard him. You'll see soon enough why you should trust me—or us, for that matter. There is a lot to fill you in on, Star Shooter, so go with your best wits and let me explain when we have time."

Caught off guard, the blood in my veins ran cold. In fact, it froze completely solid, just like my body itself, and my heart skipped a beat before it returned to a heavy pound against my chest's wall. "Ho-how do you know my name?"

The griffon blinked a couple of times, but then gave the faintest of smiles that curved his lips... beak... what the hell are they called? "Because we have met before, and I know you are out here wandering because you are lost."

I took a large stride back, rear pressing to the wall with nowhere else left for me to go. Perplexed as ever, my head cocked slightly. "I... I don't remember you. How do you know who I am? Where have we seen each other?"

"You should know. I picked you up by the throat and, if I recall correctly, told you to forget everything." His gentle simper shifted into a smirk. "Seems as though it worked—"

Lurching forward, my forehooves crashed into his chest, knocking him onto his back as I landed on top. The griffon let off a surprised yip, doing nothing to fight back, even as I grasped his collar with both hooves and shook him. "You were on the Alder?!"

Grunting as the back of his helmet smacked the ground a couple of times, he threw up an empty talon to stop me. Or, perhaps, a gesture to prevent his friends from tearing me off of him and pinning me, or worse. "W-wait! Give me a minute to explain! Less than a minute, even!"

Teeth clenching, I eased off of the griffon a little and planted my hooves on either side of him. "Sixty seconds, that's all I'm going to give you before I start splitting feathers. Go!"

Calmly, so as to not give any false impression that would force me into retaliating, he sat up only halfway. "As I said, there is a lot you must be informed of. One minute won't nearly be enough, so I will make this quick and hope you let me tell you more later."

I backed off enough to let him sit upright, eyeballing him and his talons closely for any sudden moves. He reached up, slipping the helmet off of his head, revealing his shortened black hair before holding the headpiece in the pit of his arm.

"What is your name?" I questioned first, holding a stern and slightly intimidating demeanor to my voice.

"Zjitzo," was his immediate answer. "Call me Captain, if you wish. That is my rank."

"All right." Damn griffons and their weird ass names. "Why did you attack us when we came to the rescue?"

"My squadron and I were going after a lead we had been seeking for months, the Alder. Our fears were correct, and it was ultimately left up to us to decide on how the smuggling run would be dealt with. For two weeks we spent holding out as sailor transfers with doctored credentials so as to not arouse suspicion among the crew.

"The night we sailed into the cyclone was when we realized the sinking could be covered up without a trace of what truly happened, and this would make ponies blame the storm to keep our operation in the dark. That was, until you and your pals came along," he mentioned with an edge to his tone. "We knew you five were on the ship that night. Rather, we didn't want to blow the charges to avoid unnecessary casualties."

A glare took form on my countenance. "So why shoot at us?"

"That was an accidental discharge. We only engaged when you started shooting back, though we purposefully missed every shot. If we were out for blood, it is that which we would have achieved. We were simply observing your acts from the shadows while I considered the best approach to you ponies without anypony getting hurt," he further explained.

"And the flash grenade?" I raised an eyebrow.

"We needed to make an escape as much as you did. But, you let the ponies behind all of this get away when the ship split in half."

"How did you get away?" my brow furrowed further. Even with an airevac, we still narrowly escaped with a casualty.

"We almost didn't," rejoined a female griffon and the second smallest of the group, the emblem half concealed in a rolled sleeve below her shoulder revealing a rank similar to that of a specialist, which is what I assumed her to be. My attention shifted to her as she spoke with a notable foreign timbre of sorts.

"When your helicopter arrived, it spotted us, even opened fire. We jumped ship and had to dive for an ally submarine secretly following to pick us up when the job was done."

"So, where are you from? I have a feeling you five don't base anywhere around here." My gaze shifted back to Zjitzo, allowing my painfully-tense muscles to ease off for the first time in at least a few days.

"The Griffish Isles, originally, though I spent most of my childhood being raised in a slummy apartment in Prance. Moved back when I turned eighteen and started off as a police officer in Trottingham, got offered something I simply could not refuse from the military on behalf of the Griffish Intelligence Commission," he explained, motioning his claw.

I gave a small nod. Now at least I had an idea of his background, the last thing I would get if he meant harm. Although, a sudden betrayal in the future couldn't be ruled out just yet. "All right, Zjitzo, back to the Alder. Why were you targeting it?"

"They weren't transporting oil as what a tanker is typically used for, as you can imagine. They were transporting an illegal and extremely volatile substance made with a rare liquid found only in some parts of the eastern world that can be utilized as a highly efficient type of fuel for machinery built to be compatible with it, and we believe it is what powered the machine at sea."

"How did you know about all of this ahead of time?" I questioned, curious to know more now.

"Millions worth of intel with the aid of a Lunar Marine squadron based out of this city. For two years we had been tracing this lead from the very roots and were only able to pick up on it with their help."

"Just you and them know about it? What was done to prevent it? You know, other than wiring the ship with explosives?"

"Enough to delay the plans, though it seems Armet got the upper hoof on us while we were on standby for a new lead and caught us all off guard. Last thing we did was go after their ghost boat, as you so clearly recall."

I blinked as I thought over it. "So, they were shipping this substance to Equestria, but for what purpose? The pulse device still activated without it. Why deliver more?"

"That is why we ventured here to investigate. I have a hunch you too were skeptical of our encounter before now, but not for the reason of why we were there," he remarked, garnering a hesitant nod from me. This was information potentially falling in the wrong hooves—or claws, in this instance. "What do you know?"

Frankly, not that much. These guys apparently knew a lot more than I did, and what I had was just little side pieces that seemed to hold no real significance. "My friend Anchorage raised suspicions about the incident and tried to figure out what the ship was hauling. But not just that, before I was kidnapped over a week ago, we randomly stumbled across the captain of the Alder poisoned in a Bronclyn alleyway. Come to think of it, it's less random than I thought; a distraction so that I could be captured, if you will. I still don't entirely know what for."

Zjitzo's head tilted in genuine curiosity. "A prisoner of war? My assumption is because you knew too much already, so he wanted you out of the way before you put all of the pieces together."

"To make sure I wouldn't say a word to anypony." I gave an agreeing nod, gaze following the somewhat bulky griffon as he rose from the ground. "So, you came here to figure out what the fuel would be for, I take it that's long passed. What now?"

"Now..." he let off a sigh, grabbing his rifle off his back, the exact same as before with every attachment I recalled seeing, cocking it. "Now we have much more pressing matters to worry about."

I grunted at that, looking around us. "I hear you there." My gaze met with Zjitzo's once more, and I directed him a slightly apologetic look. "Thank you for telling me this."

The griffon captain gave a firm bob of his head in acknowledgement. "I'm glad I could change your views, not often do ponies listen to someone like me or my brothers anymore. Not after this place took the full brunt of the Constitution last year. Great job on fending them off, by the way."

His comment furrowed my brow a little, but instead of questioning, I returned a small nod. As my maw parted to speak, a startling thud that shook the ground prevented me from carrying on. At that, I tensely studied my surroundings, as did the others.

"What was that?!" whispered Zjitzo's corporal, drawing his firearm, a foreign-made rifle judging by its more modern design than what Equestria predominantly has to offer as far as guns go.

"Cover, on me!" the captain ordered, waving his talon as he propped up along the wall corner, stood on his two paws. I sneaked behind an overturned carriage, half crushed by a fallen steel and concrete chunk of building.

***

"Sir, are you for certain that it is a good idea for us to stay put?"

"Yes, most definitely! We're in one of the most structurally sound buildings in the city. There's plenty of food and water for us to get by until help comes our way," the producer protested. "Until then, we should work on restoring feed to broadcast live. There are plenty of scared ponies out there in need of a trusted voice."

"But don't you think we are better off getting out of town? We don't know if there will be another quake, and I guarantee this place won't be lucky three times in less than a day!" Firetail retorted, irritated by his boss's instructions. He simply wasn't willing to stick around. Like everypony else, he wanted to return to the safety of his home—assuming it still stood.

While the two argued, Ray Blitz moved along the far side of the trashed studio. Drawing his cell phone from his vest's pocket, he gave it a few seconds to boot up after turning it off completely to conserve battery in the event of a dire emergency. At the moment, then seemed like the right time than ever to call for help, even though no one had suffered more than a few small cuts and bruises, much to their relief.

A very faint signal did reach the golden pegasus' phone, just enough to where he could make a call and pray it be coherent from both ends. With plenty of battery to last him a few days if he were to only turn it on for a little bit each time, his first decision was to dial Star's number to let him know he was faring just fine, but also to check and make sure he was, too.

Tapping on the number, Ray lifted the phone to his ear, exhaling softly as the dial tone rang in it.

***

Peeking around the destroyed taxi, what first came into my line of sight I wasn't sure I believed to be seeing; a pony two stories tall, clad of brushed steel from hoof to ear with camera lenses for eyeballs. The design of it, while predominantly bare, made it seem as though it wore armor like a royal guard, albeit with shoulder pads of a warrior.

Each gentle stride it took, while slow in nature compared to a living pony, stomped the ground beneath its hooves and left crack-riddled circular prints in its wake. Upon reaching the intersection, it halted in center, slowly and rather terrifyingly turning its head to scan the area, prompting those of us observing to duck completely into hiding to avoid it detecting us.

When it looked the other way, I said lowly, blinking in a bit of surprise. "One of GenTech's security drones. It... looks just like a pony."

"A big ass pony," commented Zjitzo's sergeant, observing from cover behind a dumpster and studying every little motion it made.

Evidently the drone's very presence was enough to bring a few of the hiding civilians out of hiding. With calls for help, a small group of four or five ponies, some still in their tattered work clothes, emerged from different places in the surrounding destruction, gathering before the massive droid. Each of them looked relieved to have help finally arrive. However, the suspicious narrowing of Zjitzo's eyes on it instructed to not make a move.

Something felt terribly off here. Not the fact that a fully-automated robotic pony stood mere yards from us, despite how strange that idea was in all reality, but... something. Zjitzo and I shared premonition without as much as glancing in each other's general direction; a hunch, so to speak. Armet could not be trusted, and there was plenty reason to believe his drones could potentially pose a threat, too.

Not a minute passed when the ponies jumping for joy ceased their cheering. Rather, they became displeased with the robot's lack of action. One went as far as throwing a stone at it and walking away in disappointment. It might have just been coincidental, but that seemed to trigger something new.

On its forehead, precisely where a horn would sit atop a unicorn, an armor panel slid open and up rose a coil of sorts wrapped around a three-foot steel cylinder, capped with a platinum sphere that the coils melded with. From a distance, the strange extension as it lit up in a tone of electric blue looked like a contraption straight out of a science laboratory that you would see in an old monster horror film. Perhaps that is why its sudden appearance raised anxious tension among myself, Zjitzo, and his crew.

Then, suddenly, the six of us each watched in our own state of horror as thick bolts of lightning-like energy attached to the horns of all three unicorns gathered in the droid's shadow, instantly bringing them to their knees as the beam began to painfully extract the magic from their very essences. It did so in the form of semi-opaque, sparkling clouds in the colors of their individual auras that transferred up the beams.

Bloodcurdling screams emit from those poor ponies while the other two tore ass in different directions. It seemed as though it was only after the unicorns. To stand by and watch from afar was harrowing enough as it is, and their unpony-like wails already rang through my mind repeatedly, even as they continued in real time.

When the process finished, three forms simultaneously fell limp, their coats completely lackluster. A trio of lifeless bodies lay beside one another at the drone's titanium hooves, their very existences wiped clean from their shells in a matter of seconds while we powerlessly observed.

As the coil retracted, loud pops of a gun firing resounded off nearby buildings, amplifying it and causing confusion as to where it originated. However, the source wasn't hard to discern, and the six of us took quick notice of a Manehattan Police officer with his firearm drawn, unloading round after round on the sturdy drone from behind with no effect. After ten equally-spaced shots, his magazine ran empty, signaled by his pistol's hammer permanently opening.

Fear struck the earth pony officer, freezing him in place as the drone swiveled completely around, setting its cold, calculating sights directly on him. He took no more than two steps backward before a small cannon-like arm extended from behind its shoulder, adjusting just slightly to take aim. A thin, blue concentrated beam shot from the barrel, striking the stallion in the chest with a zap that would forever haunt me.

Within a millisecond of the heated energy making contact, far too quick for him to scream out in torment, every inch of the officer's form and his clothing vaporized into a puff of grey smoke that dispersed in the gentle breeze, as if his body consisted solely of dust. Four more innocents lost at the will of GenTech in the blink of an eye, four more murdered by Armet Mace's wrath. Four more lives to avenge out of presumably thousands.

In that instance, it's safe to say virtually every one of us began contemplating possibilities to take it down in our own respective manner. Managing to do so would most definitely be tough, especially with the thick plating shell encasing that thing all over. Simple grenades wouldn't do. C4? Perhaps. Copperheads? Definitely. I hope. Where we would get our hooves or claws on some was beyond me. Besides, if its scarily-accurate death beams don't kill us first, there are countless other ways it could.

Being crushed like a bug seemed most probable, assuming it can move quick enough. Considering it was a GenTech machine, however, impossible agility wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. Frankly, I shouldn't let anything shock me anymore. It is only 2015, and their slogan could not have been more spot on right now.

As I sat in thorough contemplation, thinking of our next move to be suggested to the griffon in charge, I jumped at a sudden, loud electronic ringing, originating from a small pocket in my jumpsuit vest.

Reaching in, I drew my phone and hastily attempted to turn it off without taking a moment to realize just who was trying to make contact. The cover-blowing sound when it first began startled everyone else in hiding as well, their attention fixating on me solely as my frantic efforts to shut the little device down repeatedly failed.

"Damn it, turn that fucking thing off!" said Zjitzo in a stage whisper, checking past his cover.

In the spurt of the moment, I didn't think quick enough and yelled in my persistent struggle, "I-it won't...!"

Without a second more of hesitating, Zjitzo snatched the wailing phone from my hoof and strongly threw it to the ground with a plastic smack, before shooting off two suppressed rounds into the center of the screen. At that, it was silenced at last.

Reaching out to my phone, I stopped halfway when an invisible force pulled me back behind cover. Ears drooping, I watched with a persisting ache in my chest as Ray's warm, calming smile; the only picture I had of him, the one selected to fill the screen at every call he makes to me, flickered and glitched, only to later fade out to black for the last time. It was the single thing I had left to keep in line, now no longer accessible.

A hoof clenched against the roof of the overturned carriage as a newfound rage swelled through me. The griffon captain wasn't the focus of my sudden anger, rather it directed toward the drone, at GenTech, at Armet Mace. Hundreds wouldn't have perished and thousands more injured or homeless if it weren't for him. Now I have had enough.

Something sparked within me. Perhaps it was the fuse of the time bomb that was my dwindling sanity. Whatever it was, almost like a second psyche, it disregarded all else and took total control, and out of pure, long-contained resent, I charged the droid. I don't recall ever moving quite as fast as I did, nor was I trained to back in boot camp. This was something entirely new. Like a bolt of lightning, or more realistically, a bullet shot from a gun, reaching the oblivious mechanized being took no more than a couple of seconds, too quick for even its own reaction time. Winding back my stronger forehoof in preparation, upon pulling up short of my target, I thrust my arm forward with all capable mustered strength.

At the moment of impact, my hoof striking the plating of its leg made a deep, metallic clang, a sign of just how thick the titanium alloys protecting its telemetry was. Pain coursed up the length of my arm, and I grabbed it in sudden agony. Never had I taken a moment to consider something as basic as punching a robot would result in this much pain. And yet it continued to stand there, unphased like a statue, albeit of mobile steel construction. To it, my hoof was nothing more a fly harmlessly bouncing off a lightbulb. Glancing up slowly, my heart utterly stopped as it gazed right back down at me with red-glowing, calculating eyes.

Subconsciously, I slowly withdrew from the giant forehoof with a faint limp in my step upon realization of my terrible mistake. Its sights followed my every movement. More like, it refused to break direct eye contact. It took me straight back to basic, when our instructor would cut through our souls like butter with a mere stare. No, this was much worse. This was true evil.

"Star, get the fuck back!" yelled Zjitzo, breaking the trance that was nothing but fear. My ear swiveled to the pulling of a grenade's pin, and I made a beeline back to them as a harmony of gunfire erupted. At this point, our cover was well blown.

Out of the corner of my eye, a small, black object flew over my head, landing short of the drone's hoof with two bounces. It ticked in the final seconds, before detonating in a shower of dirt that ultimately dealt no damage to the enemy. The multitude of bullets striking its steel plating simply deflected or completely vaporized without so much as scratching the surface, a sign of defense-type enchantment prior to construction.

If the bastard wasn't hostile to us before, it certainly was now. On its back as it turned toward us, the laser took aim for the dumpster—and Zjitzo's sergeant. He screeched in surprise with his head peeked around, rising to his feet hurriedly to get clear. The bright blue beam whisked in dangerous proximity between us, its immense temperature radiating off our faces like an oven. Unfortunately, he wasn't quick enough. It came in contact with the grey and white griffon's shoulder before he took one step forward, instantly turning him to vapors.

Popping off his head, the sergeant's heat-scarred helmet spun three times in the air before coming to rest near a horrified Zjitzo, among with three perfectly preserved feathers floating down. Half of the remains of a unit patch belonging to the former griffon now lay on the cement, a flicker of fire gradually burning away at the fabric.

For a lengthy seven seconds, the griffon captain stared at the tiny remains of his squad mate and second-up in utter disbelief. Zjitzo bellowed an ear-piercing, eagle-like screech in combined grief and anger, before he began vengefully unloading a full magazine upon the slowly-approaching drone.

Outcome unaltered, his rounds ricocheted off the droid's armor, prompting it to set its sights on him as its next target when he became the only engaging being on the street.

"Captain!" his specialist shouted warningly, reloading and cocking her Excalibur with an extended mag in the shape of a dual barrel for extra ammo capacity. She, too, opened fire to draw its attention away from the captain.

Because the specialist's weapon was not suppressed, its booming shots drowned Zjitzo's in the robot's sensors. Setting its sights on her, its gun instantly recharged, flowing bluish light up its barrel and gathering near the muzzle. She swiftly dove out of the way in the nick of time, just as the firing laser struck her cover of a building's corner.

The stone wall turned molten instantly as it was hit, leaving a gaping hole edged with red-hot rock that dripped like water off an overhang. Melting through, the beam came in direct contact with a pipe that ignited the gas within, and exploded moments later. Its force threw me out in the open, as well as most of Zjitzo's squad mates. The very moment I regained my senses was the second it hit me that the drone's blaster had re-calibrated its aim in my direction, now that I was vulnerable. To my immediate left, a detached carriage door lying flat on the ground was the only thing I lunged for out of reflex, holding it up between myself and the oncoming death beam while hoping for the best.

Before it even fired, the warmth met my skin. My hooves along the edges of the door sizzled from the searing temperatures, which I expected to penetrate at any given time. As much pain as it caused to continuously hold it between me, I recognized that should I drop this door, it would instantly kill me. Nonetheless, my struggles maintained ground against the laser's pressing weight, fighting to knock me back.

What I didn't see through closed eyes, however, was what resulted when I adjusted the metal door at a slight angle. Like a mirror reflecting light, the beam refracted back toward its origin, blasting effortlessly through the drone's chest. Evidently this was where its energy source sat, as the laser ceased seconds after. The chain reaction of the blow to its core triggered a contained detonation that sent bits and pieces flying every which way, shattering any remaining glass for two blocks.

At last, the ordeal was over. It was dead. Tossing the carriage door aside with a heavy breath, glancing at the circular scorch mark where a dent-like depression in the surface caused by the immense heat remained. While ultimately thankful for its convenience, it served as a grave reminder of how close to certain death I came.

"How the hell did it not melt through that?" questioned Zjitzo in absolute shock, hurrying up to me. He and I were equally stumped.

I peered back at the door, then to the overturned carriage it belonged to. "The paint, I guess," was all I could come up with, my adrenaline still spiking.

The griffon offered out a talon, which I took with grace, and with a single tug of my hoof that would be gentle to him, it had me back on all fours. With a thanking nod, my hoof dusted down the front of my vest. While doing so, having no use for it anymore, I finally took the time to remove the parachute harness still tightened around my chest.

Before any of us had the opportunity to celebrate in our trifling victory, however, a new sound from afar nabbed my left ear's attention, causing me to look up alertly.

"You hear that?" I panted lowly, stopping in what I was doing to better listen out.

At that, our attention turned elsewhere. What had to be tens more of drones alike the one in a fiery pile of wreckage marched down a distant street, passing by without taking notice of us. The sight itself made my blood run cold yet again upon realizing just how many there were. Far too many for us to take on alone. Hell, we had just narrowly defeated this one.

Lowering the goggle attachment over one eye and enhancing the lens, Zjitzo observed the passing army from where we stood with ease. "We need to move before they break off and come our way."

"Yeah, surely GenTech knows already. They'll have those things wired to hell for close monitoring." Frantically, I began scanning our surroundings. My search for shelter halted upon spotting a large sand-colored stone building one block due south. "There! The Museum of Equestrian History!"

"Oscar Mike!" signaled Zjitzo, waving his talon with two fingers together in the direction of the museum. Taking the lead, he hastily started toward the complex, long vacated of any tourists.

Tailing closely, the remaining five of us formed a tight circle, putting me between four griffons of differentiating sizes and specialties. Without a weapon to myself, it was their decision to act as a protective meat shield in case of more trouble.

***

An alarm rang out across the control center, with an alert window appearing in bright red across only two consoles in the entire room. Tension among the troops present rose, even after the sound ceased at the push of a button.

The maroon unicorn seated at his circular center display sat up out of his chair in surprise, reading off the information that flowed across his holographic screen. "Flawless! What happened?!" shouted a furious Armet Mace.

At the stallion's abrupt yelling, his trusted right-hoof, Flawless Rivet, galloped down the shallow staircase to his commander's station at the bottom of the room. He began to address with notable angst to his demeanor. "A-Armet, sir. Indicators read that Drone M4-67B has gone offline."

"Diagnosis?" questioned Armet with a softer tone, taking a long, slow sip of yet another cup of coffee.

The slightly-smaller earth pony began reading off data from a holographic tablet in his left hoof, responding mere seconds later. "De-destroyed, sir."

Armet lurched, cheeks puffing for no more than a split second before the warm contents in his mouth spat sideways in a shower of brown that slicked the previously pristinely-polished tiling. "What?!" his voice echoed off the walls, chair spinning remotely to furiously face his second-up.

Flawless instinctively drew back a couple of steps, shrinking his head into his neck slightly with the tablet held close to his light blue uniform. Before his boss, he displayed fear, pinning his ears to his skull. The incident was far from his fault, though he knew the commander would treat it as though it were.

Without giving the poor pony a chance to come up with a response, Armet leaned sideways to rub his pounding forehead gently, closing his eyes. "Do we have its eye cam to examine?"

"I—y-yes, sir, we do! I-I have it right here!" replied Flawless, glancing down at his device and motioning his hoof in multiple alternating motions across the glass screen. With a final tap, his sights lifted to the large display in front of them.

On it, the rollback footage of one of GenTech's collector droids began playing the final five minutes of its life. However, something most unexpected snatched the maroon unicorn's immediate attention. For the second time in just a few hours, Armet's bright blue eyes went wide with disbelief. This time, it wasn't out of astonishment.

Muscles tensing, he clenched his teeth lividly, voice sweeping across the control room with significant volume. "How is he still alive?!"

Darting his gaze from the screen to Armet, Flawless gave a questionable look. "Who is that, sir? Sh-should we be concerned about him?"

Easing back into his chair, Armet blinked slowly in a muse. After a prolonged, trepidatious silence, a malicious grin pursed his lips, disregarding either of his right-hoof's queries. Quietly, but enough for Flawless to pick up on, he muttered, "I know what'll kill you..."

***

Only flashlight attachments guided our way through the Museum of Equestrian History, with the exception of one or two emergency lights thinly scattered about the central space just beyond the entrance. A fine layer of dust coated the skylights above, shrouding darkness where the only source of natural light would typically shine in. Hanging pieces such as a 17th-century glider gently swayed in a lingering motion left over from the second tremor, the cables suspending them above the floor creaking eerily throughout the main hall.

Minor exhibits sporting timeless items such as paintings, cracked vases, and other artifacts from countless points in Equestria's early ages either scattered across the floor, tipped over against their glass containers, or sat crookedly on their wall hangers. For the most part, this place seemed unscathed by the quake. I suppose the architects did keep seismic activity in mind, or a kind of enchantment protected the entire building from damage. It would explain the minor cracks and chips in the stone that the structure primarily consisted of.

Somewhere around here was one of many emergency exits placed in key locations, where we would be forced to venture out in the open once more. Thankfully this provided a brief opportunity to scout out food from the cafeteria and a small collection of vending machines along the south wall of the main corridor, which spanned upward two stories with balconies from the second floor overlooking.

For as long as I have been stationed in Manehattan, it still came off as mildly surprising to have never formally visited this place, reminiscing over my passion for history back in middle and high school. Such a shame my first impression had to be under poor circumstances, though my concerns for the museum's integrity could only be short-lived.

Scouring a portion of the first floor was most prominent ahead of a moment to rest. While Zjitzo and his crew split up to investigate the place, my new temporary objective became to gather up water to refill our canteens and grab anything I could find to eat that hadn't spoiled from just over a day of no electricity.

A few of the refrigerators still worked somehow, likely backup generators in the basement if there was one, and in them sat cooled lunches such as sandwiches and salads, as well as an assortment of drinks ranging from bottles of water and juices to canned teas and pop, plus whatever I could get from prying open a machine fully stocked with candy bars, bags of chips, and peanut butter crackers.

And damn, was I hungry. Nothing but a crumby beef stew MRE for sustenance the night prior, one I hadn't the steel to finish off. Not even close. What a waste of a perfectly good MRE that could have gone to somepony who needed it more. Actually, no, they might not have eaten it either. Who even likes that shit?! At least now there is an abundance of real food to keep me going.

When all was clear, the four returned to the cafeteria where I waited, hunkered behind the cashier counter in case any unwanted guests arrived. There, we ate in silence, resting our muscles ahead of another long, uneasy journey to safety to work out a plan to fight back.

For me, being in the presence of griffons in a moment of peace felt... odd. Perhaps it was simply personal bias after dreadful past encounters of the type. These ones, however, proved their loyalty after not one, but two brief scuffles. They are here with a mutual goal, and their devotion for justice earned my respect, but additionally restored some of my faith in the griffon race. Hell, it's disappointing to have not properly befriended these featherbrains yet. Assuming we all make it through this in one piece, it would be interesting to come to know them just a bit more.

Between bites to eat, the four checked over their gear before we would have to keep moving. Having spent plenty of their ammunition already, that told us we would not last more than a few minutes should we encounter another droid so soon. Then here I was, feeling utterly useless among them. No rifle, no sidearm, not even a damn knife if we're lucky enough to stumble across an enemy that wasn't born on an assembly line.

My teeth sunk into the soft bread of a cold cheese and lettuce sandwich; a meal I would not even consider eating on any regular day. Simple foods never tasted so great, that is until you go some time without consuming something remotely healthy, or anything at all. And while I wasn't peckish to the point of starvation, it gratified the persistent rumbling in my stomach, returning at least some of the energy drained by adrenaline countless times in the past thirty-six hours.

As the contents chewed to a fine mush in my gape, the shattering of glass originating from beyond the cafeteria, inside the museum's main historical exhibit further down froze me abruptly in the act. The others caught on to the noise, exchanging glances and instinctively grabbing their weapons. The food unexpectedly slipping down my throat as a result of sitting still without thoroughly swallowing could have given our hiding away when it caused me to choke on it briefly, prompting me to take long gulps of water. This, miraculously, prevented too much noise.

Gesturing to me silently, ordering I stay put, Zjitzo slowly and quietly picked up his rifle and stood, minding his movements as he cautiously looped around the counter in a lookout. His acts were mutely mirrored by his corporal, then the specialist, leaving me alone with a watchful private first class, who repositioned himself to monitor the staff passageway at the counter's far edge. It was the only way someone or something could check behind without leaping up on top to peek over.

The two of us jolted when the sound of something heavy smacking into clothed flesh, accompanied by the deep, pained grunt of the griffon captain before the whole of his weight was tossed into a nearby wall, soon followed by similar guttural discharges caused by a blow of equivalent strength dealt to his corporal and specialist simultaneously.

Heart racing, I scanned my surroundings while remaining ducked below the counter surface so as to avoid being detected by whatever was here with us, trying to listen out for steps of any particular type approaching our position.

"Wait here," whispered the coal-feathered private first class, crawling in upright-prone position to peek around the corner. This merely worsened the tingling, churning feeling in my gut, locking the muscles in my lower half that essentially restrained my efforts to reach out and hold him back in case something else were to happen.

This was fear I had not seen before, although it did come off as somewhat familiar in an indistinct manner. It felt as if I have been here, in this exact place, like this situation has happened already. Nothing I pondered added up, explicitly in my present frantic state of mind.

I only jerked from a contemplative trance when the last griffon yelped out and he shot off three blind rounds across the hall, before a heavy thump of his body and the rustling of his gear upon landing on the floor.

Now I was in deep shit. The others had dropped like flies, at least from what the sounds of their formidable defeat told my ears and mind. Severely lacking a mean of self-defense, it dawned alarmingly on me that staying put would end poorly, but so would attempting to flee more than likely. In spite of my thoughts to make a mad dash for the nearest exit, I couldn't leave them. Ultimately, they did save my life, and while I had almost instantly and unintentionally repaid that debt, it would be completely insolent to abandon them now.

Drawing in a shaky breath, my mind prepared itself to make a move. Before the chance came and my body had time to respond, an arm smashed straight through the entire counter, sending splinters and wooden chunks flying. It took hold of my side, bringing out a cry of surprise as it yanked me straight through, widening the hole created when the limb broke through.

I flew, and not in a preferable fashion. As soon as my body was pulled directly through the checkout bar, the arm released its grip, tossing me with great strength through a glass pane along the edge of the cafeteria, showering the floor of the main hall with chips of glass that exploded out with my momentum, before I came down in the center of the atrium and rolled thrice with a stupefied grunt.

I landed upright, hooves splayed out on my sides, in a total daze. My chest heaved with quickened breaths that I drew in through an opened maw, staring straight upward at the darkened, dirt-coated skylight. There were only a few seconds when I rolled upright, groaning in effort as my quaking forehooves gradually lifted my weight off the large-tile flooring. The first thing my sights landed upon was a barely-conscious Zjitzo, his weapon lying some five feet from an outreached talon and him breathing laboriously, but utterly motionless on his side with an indentation in the wooden wall above where he lay. One fleeting glance around discovered the other three griffons suffering similar fates, strewn about the atrium in varying places.

Then, my attention turned to the threat. Silhouetted by an emergency light within the cafeteria, a tall, looming figure steadily approached. The scarier part of it all was its eyes, gleaming with sinister intent in the shadows like a demonic being of sorts. But it wasn't just the glowing of its cores that stood out the most, it was their color that struck as most staggering.

"Arc...!" I gasped out tersely, having the breath taken completely away at the sight. Before the realization had even hit me, I subconsciously backstepped until my muscles tightened to the point of halting short of a wall. At that precise moment in time, one that seemed to carry on for minutes, my thought process ran blank in a nervous form of disbelief as my gaze swept thoroughly over the futuristic ensemble of obsidian-colored plated armor clad to a rubber or latex undersuit of sorts. "Oh my... God... Y-you...?!"

This explained his longer-than-anticipated absence from base. He hadn't taken this much time to recover from his bloody onslaught, even after his sentence's supposed end date. Now it was apparent that he was involuntarily selected for Armet's super-soldier program, which provoked my next thought; just how many more like him were there?

"This isn't you..." I uttered through a labored breath, clenching my teeth and lowering my posture into a ground-defending stance. There was no running now, knowing he would catch me no matter my fastest sprint, or what I might throw his way in my escape.

For five prolonged, uneasy seconds, the stallion's glaring, amethyst gaze sliced through my essence like a hotknife through a stick of butter. His lack of action convinced me he was still partially himself, or that I had gotten through to him like our previous encounter of the type. That notion startlingly changed when the larger pony lunged forward, snapping his limb to my neck and effortlessly lifting my hooves off the fractured floor.

My eyes widened fearfully, grasping Arc's choking arm with both of my forehooves in a meager effort to pry it away. None of my mustered strength made any sort of progress, rather his grip on my throat tightened as he started to partially wrap his hoof around like a slithery boa and begin to constrict.

It wasn't long before he cut off all air circulation, even going the lengths to push against my gut and force the remaining air from my lungs, causing me to squirm and thrash in his hold. The stronger I pushed at his armor-clad hoof, the tighter he squeezed, and the weaker I gradually became the longer oxygen failed to clear my throat and narrowly clung to life. Slowly, my own choking struggle grew more muffled to the pounding of my heart in my ears as the seconds ticked by, and everything incrementally turned darker as asphyxiation drew nearer.

With the fight against time and Arc's hold rapidly losing in his favor, my grasp fell limp as I eventually settled with submitting to his will, and the advancing horizon of death. I shut my lids in defeat, letting my eyes begin to roll back and wait the rest out.

All of a sudden, a tenuous electric shock coursed through my nerves, conducted by Arc's suit that left him physically numb in electrocution. I opened my eyes just in time for his grip to release, dropping me to the floor with a thud. Twisted halfway on my side, I narrowly propped myself up off the floor, hacking up a lung and heavily gasping to draw air into my deprived lungs. Between inhales, my throat burned with each cough that threatened to burst a blood vessel.

As life abruptly returned to my form, my gaze snapped up to see Arc Nobis struggling to keep himself upright. Along his barrel, clinging to the armor plates like a parasite, a white luminescent bullet administered a steady amount of energy to stun him. He continuously groaned in evident pain, before slumping over with his teeth grit and body vigorously shaking, even after the shock had ceased.

"Got you, you son of a bitch!" uttered Zjitzo's specialist, removing a magazine with a white paint streak along the bottom and swiftly replacing it with a regular ammo clip, approaching the downed earth pony with caution in every step.

"Star Shooter!" called Zjitzo, rushing up to and aiding me onto my hooves. "Are you alright?"

I rubbed a hoof gently along my throat, where a reddish mark faintly lingered above the helmet clip of my jump vest's collar, with a long bruise forming in center. "Y-yeah, I'm fine..." I rejoined, voice raspy, compelling me to clear my throat and swallow spit to quell the burn in it, which frankly didn't do much. "I-I almost wasn't."

"Ugh..." emit a grouse from behind Zjitzo. Our attention snapped to Arc, whose rubberized stomach rose and fell gently to his stable breaths while laying on his side, slowly moving his forehoof and lifting his head. The first thing his sights set on was my own. "Corporal...?" he mumbled, blinking in mild bewilderment.

My breath caught, noting of his address, and the lack of incandescence in his eyes. It was him again. Or so I assumed it to be. "Second Lieutenant?"

Groaning in apparent soreness caused by the electrocution, the black-plated grey earth stallion began to weakly push himself upright as his strength gradually returned. "Where in the hell—"

Just before he could prop up his hinds, his face met with the barrel of Zjitzo's rifle. On either side of the griffon captain stood his corporal and specialist, with the private first class pushing himself up off the floor with my help.

"Don't move," lowly ordered Zjitzo, glaring behind his golden visor.

Letting off an incoherent grumble, the second lieutenant stayed down, going as far as raising his hooves in a show of surrender. "I am not going to attack you."

"Then why did you?!" screeched Zjitzo's corporal, threateningly jolting his gun at Nobis.

"I was not in control of my own mind. If you would give me time, I will gladly elaborate!" glared Arc, directed at the corporal.

I pulled up along Zjitzo's side, between him and the specialist, resting a hoof on his shoulder. He turned his head to look at me.

"Let him talk. It's only fair I did the same for you, Captain," I remarked.

The taller griffon stared quietly for a couple of seconds, then lowered his rifle. With a single claw gesture, so did his squad mates. "All right. Go ahead."

I glanced to Arc. "What ship are you stationed to?"

"The Eclipse," he answered, almost immediately after the words left my mouth.

"What year did you first meet Shadow?"

"April of 2009. By that time, he was a lieutenant commander in the Equestria Navy. This was before the end of Luna's banishment."

At that, I nodded. Even I didn't know the full answer to the question, yet he did. To me, that was good enough verification. I glanced at Zjitzo, giving a knowing look that he silently responded to with a tip of his chin.

"Just like that, we're meant to trust him?" growled Zjitzo's specialist in premonition, only to immediately garner a fleeting glare from her superior that sternly instructed to stay quiet.

Climbing to all fours, choosing to ignore the young female griffon's comment, Arc Nobis' steady gaze shifted to each of us. "I was kidnapped, tortured into submission. He used me as his assassin with no rhyme or reason as to why."

"Armet Mace?" Zjitzo's eyes narrowed.

The second lieutenant nodded once in confirmation.

"Yes. This armor is built to control an entire pony. Not just manipulate their every movement, but replace an entire mental conscience with one designed on a computer. When he did it to me, it was the worst pain imaginable, yet... I felt nothing?"

Zjitzo's head cocked left suspiciously. "Is this you, or is it the computer talking?"

"I... can't be for sure. It's me, I think? But I feel... different. Like I am connected to something much larger than my own existence," said Nobis in evident mutual confusion. Even the way he spoke struck as odd.

"So..." my gaze fell to the floor in contemplation, lifting a hoof. "The shooter at the summit meeting, was that you or somepony else?"

Arc softly grunted at that. "I want to say yes, it was me, though the true answer is beyond my knowledge. I couldn't see, hear, or feel, only... be. I felt like I was watching somepony play a video game, except... it was myself, and this thing he swapped me with was the player."

"What can you remember?" Zjitzo queried, eyebrow raising. His stance alone still showed signs of moderate apprehension.

"Not a lot. I know some bad shit has gone down the last few weeks." His amethyst gaze scanned our surroundings. "Really bad shit, now that I see."

"There is more than what meets the eye, er..." Zjitzo paused to remember his name from when I mentioned it. "...Arc."

"I am aware," nodded Nobis. "In my dormancy I spent time cracking files in the GenTech mainframe, reading all of their plans in every phase. That was, until Armet dangled me over a digital recycling bin and threatened to erase me forever."

My head cocked sideways. "Why didn't he? What stopped him? He knows having your conscience still around might cause problems, or even bite back at him."

Arc shook his head. "That is beyond me. But what I did uncover was his plans to seek out the power of every unicorn in the city and drain them of it with the use of—"

"Drones," Zjitzo interrupted, nodding. "We know."

I spoke up after him. "We were forced to sit by and watch as it sucked the life out of three, then blast a police officer to smithereens."

Zjitzo's beak clenched, his body growing discernibly tense. "And my sergeant..."

"So we are at phase two, then," Arc alleged, putting a hoof to his forehead. "This is great."

"Phase two? What are the phases?" I questioned, blinking.

"Phase one was a series of earthquakes to cripple infrastructure and distract the military and emergency services from the real threat, which is phase two. Phase three..." he trailed off. "I'm sorry, I couldn't break the code in time. I would have to exchange my mind for my programmed counterpart in order to retrieve that intel, and that isn't guaranteed to work."

"That is quite alright," said Zjitzo, relaxing himself at last. "You found what you could. Unfortunately this was information we could have used hours ago, but that isn't your fault."

His response came off somewhat unexpected, turning Zjitzo's squad mates' eyes his way. It shocked perhaps all of us when he extended his right talon as a gesture of trust, one that Arc Nobis took with firm grace.

"It isn't often that I say this, but... thank you," Arc said neutrally, steadying his gaze with the griffon's. "Everypony's trust for me was broken five months ago. They are all scared of me now. It is... relieving, to say the least, that someone still holds faith in me as a pony."

Zjitzo tipped his chin in reply. I took a step closer, speaking up. "If it assures you any, Second Lieutenant, I never lost faith in you. I understand your troubles. That doesn't make you any less of a stallion than I know you are, or invalidate your title of a Marine officer."

For a second, it appeared as though he might actually smile. The slightest twitch in his face muscles surrounding his mouth convinced me he would, but the flat expression he wore held strong. Arc gave a nod of gratitude. "Even after our last two direct encounters, you show respect. I appreciate that, Corporal."

Before a single word more could be spoken, the muffled, nearby pops of rapid gunfire echoed around, with the large scale of the museum making it difficult to discern the general direction of the racket's source. Swiveling my ear, it seemed to be coming from all around.

Glancing between us, Zjitzo raised his rifle skyward. "That sounds awfully close by. We should get moving while we have a window," he advocated, one notion we could all equally agree on.

"The scanners in my helmet tell me in the north wing is a transit stop that has been undergoing renovations since June. The tunnels connecting to the subway lines under the city should take you across the river, if that is where you are headed."

Zjitzo's steady gaze transferred to his corporal, then back. "All right. Subway tunnels it is."

Nodding in acknowledgement, we tailed the captain deeper into the museum as he started down the main hall.

I didn't make more than a couple yards when I checked over my shoulder, seeing the second lieutenant waiting there, watching us go. I skidded to a halt, my hooves squeaking along the tile in a manner that screeched throughout the entire building, prompting the others ahead to stop and see why I had turned back.

Slowly, I returned to Arc, pulling up a few feet short of him with a brow slightly raised and a faint look of worry on my face. "Aren't you coming with us?"

In reluctant response, the grey stallion shook his head. "Negative. I'm afraid I cannot accompany you five. You temporarily disabling the artificial conscience that replaced my own won't go unnoticed by Armet. It's just a matter of time before he initiates the re-upload command and I turn against all of you again."

I cocked my head in slight concern. "So what is it you're planning to do, then? Just sit here and wait it all out? We'll need your help out there!"

"I will turn myself in, order they put me in solitary until this is over. For as long as this helmet sits on my head, wired to my brain, I am a serious threat to you and others."

My ears lost their perk, noting the gentle hurt in the stallion's tone, something he absolutely never showed. For a time, the two of us stared in silence, while the others observed from afar. "Arc, we'll get you out of this. I promise you, we will."

"Don't make promises you cannot keep, Corporal," he sternly rejoined, reverting to his cold self—before his upgrade, that is. "I trust you will see this battle's end, but do not focus on saving me. I am unimportant; a pawn, if you will. I'm merely a piece in Armet Mace's game of chess. Only difference is, he can afford to lose me."

Arc's posture stiffened, standing tall like the officer he was and fixating solely on me. "Should the time call for it, I want you to have no hesitation in terminating me."

My cores widened, taken aback by his somewhat robotic-like instructions. "Second Lieutenant, I—"

"That is an order!" he cut in, raising his voice over mine, echoing throughout the hall.

I recoiled, though barely, wincing in direct reaction. After a couple of moments, I returned an affirming nod, ears drooping back. "Yes, sir."

Retaining his pose, Arc returned a gentle bob of his head. Without another word spoken, and much hesitation in my movements, I turned away and started back toward a patiently-waiting Zjitzo and his crew.

It went against Marine code of conduct to leave someone behind, no matter that soul's protests. Typically it went in the direction of self-sacrifice which, knowing the second lieutenant's unpredictability, might have been the larger truth masked beneath a smaller cover to force me to believe otherwise. Without taking a second to question it, however, we proceeded on, and it left a churning, irritable feeling deep in my gut delving into that pitch-black metro station.

***

A constant symphony of bullets and energized shots whisked above ducking heads as absolute discord erupted across Midtown. Over the course of a half hour, three city blocks worth of ground had been lost to the advancing enemy. Terrified civilians scattered every which way they could run to get away from the steel-clad army marching down the streets, engaging upon all within sight with intermittent shots from rifles never before seen by even the developers of military weaponry were they present to witness.

Two separate lines of infantry set up blockades to defend, creating invisible lines to hold until more help arrives. In spite of desperate pleas over numerous communications channels, each call out was returned with one of equivalent request, as corresponding attacks were taking place all over the island, effectively trapping frightened innocents with nowhere left to run. Overwhelmed and outnumbered, casualties left and right were climbing rapidly with little progress made in retaliatory attacks.

On top of that, reports flooded in by the bundle of drones standing as tall as three stories in some cases grabbing ponies—particularly unicorns—in masses. It wasn't limited to citizens, either. One call went out describing an entire unit wiped out simultaneously by some sort of tractor beam that traps a pony in place and sucks every last ounce of magic from their bodies.

Swiftly loading a fresh magazine into an M16 after diving behind cover with a black ballistic helmet strapped atop his crown, cocking the rifle, Anchorage snapped his head to one of his fellow combatants. "What's the sitrep?!" he yelled over the roar of fire.

"Multiple hostiles closing in on our location! These motherfuckers are eating bullets like there's no tomorrow!" shouted Ashfall at his side, eyeballing every one of his shots with an M249 with belts feeding into the chamber in a firm grasp in both hooves. He recoiled once or twice in immediate reaction to sizzling, bluish beams impacting their cover, leaving blackened scorch marks in their wake.

"Then you'll need all the firepower you can get!" the sailor rejoined, raising over the chipped concrete barrier and posting up on top for a steady aim. In curt bursts of three rounds, he engaged upon the approaching line of mechanized ponies in supporting fire.

These mysterious figures didn't seem one hundred-percent robotic, judging by their unique behavior and lack of consistent aim as compared to what one would expect out of a machine. What they did quickly discern was their abnormal agility and speed for non-pegasus ponies.

More so, each aggressor that did finally succumb to a mass amount of bullets, two more immediately took its place, leading to an increase in frustration among defenders trying to keep them from reaching more civilians. Every so often, one or two more sparked at the source of some shots before giving out, and after their collapse, the metallic army simply walked over their bodies as they grew ever so closer to the line of Marines and police officers.

Some of the fighting unicorns, even without weapons, joined in on the fight. What combat-related magic they understood was put to immediate use, including the simplest of spells, such as ones that easily tore metal apart. However, the task turned out more difficult than anticipated when counting for the aberrant composition of these cyborgs' rather large amount of armor concealing their internal hardware, and thus severely limited the efficiency of these attacks.

With his own aura, Silver Edge began lobbing crumbled brick clusters fallen from surrounding structures, among other random objects movable by his strength. In the long run, his meager efforts, while they would be far more useful against actual ponies, benefited no prominent significance in the fight, much to his dismay, although the idea of giving up pushed to the rear of his mind.

To most on the defending side of this ongoing battle, the scene unfolding closely resembled something ripped straight out of an Applewood flick; an all-stakes apocalyptic scenario surrounding a waging war between machine and pony, with the latter predictably on the losing side. These machines, tailored to help lives and prevent mass casualty events, were now the cause behind one, leaving varying speculation as to why.

Then, a breakthrough. Weak plating and easy-access removable paneling around the central area of the chest allowed for heavier rounds to pierce the steel easier than elsewhere on their bodies, exposing bright lights within that resulted in miniature implosions that dotted the street like land mines being set off one by one.

"Everyone, aim for their chests! Their chests!" shouted Sergeant Sunset Haze, taking pause in his own engagement to alert his comrades of the discovery.

Once enduring forty to fifty rounds each, now took less than fifteen to puncture and destroy or disable their internal power supplies. In the first minutes following the shift of orders, countless stallion-sized drones littered the cobble with some bursting into flames or destructing in small, yet violent blasts.

At long last, it seemed as though the tides were turning in their favor. Word of the solution spread from the mouths of communications specialists into their transceivers, but the transmissions never cleared the gap. All of a sudden, every radio frequency returned with a deafening screech that forced many to cover their ears. Simultaneously, every advancing droid eerily halted in their tracks and suspended fire, utterly motionless in their individual stances.

Bewildered, the Marine sergeant briefly scanned his wary irides across the thinning herd of enemies when they suddenly froze. Going against personal judgement, he threw up a signaling hoof. "Cease your fire!"

All engagement ceased concurrently. Glances exchanged around while a few fixated on the observant sergeant for orders, others taking this opportunity to reload their weapons on what little ammunition was left to go around.

Another brief screech sounded through radios and comms headsets, startling ponies a second instance. This time, however, a creepy, menacing broadcast followed.

"I don't know why you still try. There is no escaping the inevitable. You might as well lay down your weapons and let me take the reins from here on out."

Snatched from the hoof of a comm officer, the dark-sepia stallion rejoined through the receiver speaker. "Who is this? How are you in our secure network?"

"Oh, Sergeant, nothing is secure anymore. Not in this technological day and age," the voice responded lowly, shadowed by a sinister chuckle.

Sunset grunted at the mention of his rank, despite not recognizing the voice in the slightest. It creeped him out, though not enough to waver his hostile tone. "You must have gone through a whole hell of a lot of trouble just to try and creep us out."

At the twist of a dial, the radio's volume raised to the maximum setting for all around to tune in. "You think this was difficult for me to pull off? Please, this took nothing but my bare hooves, a connection execution console, and my extensive knowledge of code."

"I get it, you're a smart cookie. You took control over essentially every security drone in the city and are using them to assault innocents who have lost enough already. What is it that you want?"

"To test your steel, of course. It's clear enough already that you are incapable of guarding your citizens to say nothing of your negligence to see this coming." The garbled voice then paused for a moment. "Besides, what's there to take over if the drones are of my own creation?"

Revelation swept over the dozens listening as bombshell, all the while Anchorage grunted lowly in response. His tingling hunch had been correct all along, lest he restrained from vocalizing it for the longest time.

The sergeant blinked twice, spending a few moments contemplating a reply in his own state of dumbfound, as well as utter disgust toward the once-admirable stallion's acts. "What point are you trying to prove here?"

"One that should have been manifest months ago." At conclusion, the voice no longer spoke.

Then, a faint jolt shook the street. At first, it appeared as a nearby explosion's shockwave or frayed nerves among those present, until it occurred again. And again. And again once more, increasing with proximity each time.

Lifting a pair of tactical binoculars to his eyeballs, Sunset Haze examined the extensive street. That's when he first saw it in the reflection of a high rise's erratically-shattered glass exterior. His eyes grew wide as saucers in total stupefaction, the hold on his optical instrument steadily faltering as his jaw hung slack.

Every pony huddled against cover lifted their heads, as well as their gazes when shock and awe took to their countenances. From around a corner two and a half blocks south, an unreal and downright petrifying sight came into full view.

Not unlike the cloned beings raiding the street a minute prior, one of gargantuan scale stepped with long, slow strides before halting in center of a further intersection from the blockade, twisting its body right to directly face the collection of Lunar Marines, a few stray sailors, and law enforcement lining concrete barriers, all of whom stared in total disbelief.

"What the hell is that thing?!" one Marine cried, staggering to his hooves after falling back in alarm.

Closely accompanied below the home-sized atrocity, tens more of the smaller clones stormed the block ahead of the parent, which soon doubled its presence with the addition of a second from another adjoining street. They halted in formation, before making space for a pack of six

These mechs, while not much larger than the ones flooding the street and equaled the overall size of a draft pony, wore juggernaut-like armor, albeit sturdier than any in the whole entire military's arsenal, and were equipped with dual side-attached miniguns each. In addition to their weaponry, laser sights built in center of the eight barrels added to their overall accuracy.

Recoiling a step back, Sunset Haze bellowed one final command while dropping to the ground. "Everypony DOWN!"

At his order, seventeen ponies hit the deck. Soon, a torrent of fire ripped through the street. Thousands upon thousands of rounds fired every half-second rained hell upon the blockade, forcing everypony against what cover there was which, even then, was not of adequate caliber to protect them for very long.

In a window of twenty seconds, four Marines went down in a spray of ichor that pelted the cheeks and gear of others. Instantaneously, those struck by penetrating minigun bullets were torn to shreds. Agonizing wails rang out by multiple infantryponies and police officers as they took damage, but were ultimately drowned out by the constant roar.

Amidst the chaos, there was simply too much going on for the few unicorns in the mix to concentrate enough to conjure a protective forcefield, not to mention the lack of strength in them caused by depleting most of their energy stopping a towering tidal wave hours prior. While the time between did grant a window of opportunity to replenish, the process would normally take three to four days to return to full stamina.

A new stream of bullets burst through solid cement, forcing Anchorage to scoot sideways while in a self-defending prone. Had he sat two more inches to the left, and his hind leg would have been turned into swiss cheese in milliseconds.

Heart pounding away at his chest, the greyish-white pegasus held a hoof atop his helmet instinctively, which would do next to nothing should those rounds breach the barrier his side pressed against. The fear of being gunned down frightened him, and this merely tripled at the image of being unrecognizably reduced to traces of bloodied flesh and tiny bits of ossein.

Teeth gritted, Anchorage's pinprick-sized icy cores opened to stare at his Marine companion's face no more than a foot before his own, hoping to hear ideas other than his own that would hopefully get them out of this mess alive and in one piece. "Ash! What the fuck are we gonna do?!"

Author's Note

Three more chapters.

47. Into the Eye of the Storm - Part V

Above the echoing pitter-patter of dripping water from a leaky pipe, the clicks and gentle scratches of hooves and claws on cold concrete and steel comprised of the tube-shaped tunnel's ambience. The constant cool temperature of the underground provided a little bit of relief to our hot and sweaty selves. It was a welcomed exchange from the muggy atmosphere on the surface. If other parts of the system hadn't fared poorer, these tunnels might have been the prime location for some relief camps to get ponies out of the late-summer heat.

With electricity down across the network, the third rail posed no risk to our journey through seemingly the only intact subway line under the city. Cracks lined the circular walls and ceiling, though the overall damage was insignificant and did not threaten to cave in on top of us.

The one issue we faced as a group was ending up in the right location. Being as extensive as Manehattan's subway complex was, becoming lost would not be difficult in the slightest, meaning we would have to rely on the names of certain stops to guide our way. However, after about thirty minutes of strolling these curving tracks, there had still not been any sign of a station platform.

Zjitzo had distanced himself ahead from the rest of our pack, claiming if in the event of an ambush, which became increasingly unlikely the longer we walked, we would have a chance to hightail back the way we came. Something about the manner of positioning seemed off, though. Visible through flashlight attachments on his unit's guns and helmets, his overly-tense posture and overall body language struck as the most standing-out aspects.

For the longest time, I tended to ignore it. I didn't know him quite as well as these three did, so it wasn't my place to question. That was, leading up to a sudden change of how he walked. Call me crazy, but with as little noise being made in that tunnel, it left me with nothing else but to tune in on the tiniest of details. It just so happens these intricate attributes linked straight to the captain of their shrinking circle.

"Is he ever like that?" I muttered as quiet as can be while still being audible, turning to Zjitzo's specialist, whose name I had come to learn was Zaria by her plate's low-profile nametag.

Flicking a glance over at me, the female griffon started observing her superior's movements for a few seconds. She gave a curt shake of her head. "Not typically."

"He's sulking," added the corporal, Hermes, the narrowly distinct tone in which he spoke faintly revealing a glower on his mien. "Not the first time I've seen 'im do it."

The Griffish-accented griffon had mine and Zaria's curiosity piqued now, our undivided attention shifting to him. Silently, so did the private first class' on Hermes' opposite side. It took him a few moments to realize, puzzled when he glanced between the three of us surrounding him. "What?"

"What do you mean by, 'not the first time'?" the specialist queried, her brow suspiciously raised.

Hermes blinked a couple of times, before reaching up to tug the front of his helmet slightly down closer to his eyes. "When his mother passed a few years ago, I first knew 'im as an emotional train wreck. Zjitzo was cold and calculating, just like the bots Mace created. He reacted to nothing in front of no one, then one night I found 'im chugging a whole bottle of whiskey down by the creek to drown his sorrows."

I cocked my head slightly. "How'd his mother die? Natural causes?"

The grey and black griffon corporal let off a low sigh. "I sat down with 'im, asked what was troubling 'im. He told me, straightforward, that weeks before she died, she had issues breathing. Not asthma, but as if she was being choked by some sort of invisible force. She went in for a checkup, and they had discovered a sizable lump near the bottom of her trachea, situated just below where she would've felt it on 'er own.

"Trachea?" I asked, puzzled. Medical terms exceeded my line of expertise, though having some knowledge of it could very well prove beneficial in the future.

"Yer trachea is yer throat, little pony," the private first class, Hades, answered. My heart sank at that, now having some idea of where this was heading.

Without acknowledging, Hermes continued. "By the time medical experts figured out what it was, it had spread, formed almost a complete ring around her throat, and its growth constricted her pharynx.

"The real catcher is, it wasn't the tumor that they expected to cause a gradual shutdown of 'er system. It simply choked her to death, in 'er sleep. So she went quietly."

"My god..." I uttered, gaze falling to the rail between my hooves. "That's horrible."

"Yeah." Hermes gave a single concurring nod, facing forward. "Now that Ajax is gone, he'll start showing signs of 'is old grief again."

I looked at the corporal, then ahead to a slightly farther Zjitzo, likely having eavesdropped us that whole time judging by the way his head hung lower than prior.

"I can talk to him. Perhaps he needs consolation."

Zaria's snarky purple gaze met mine. "You seriously think friendship will turn him around?"

Flicking a look at the specialist, telling her to watch me, I gave a curt response. "Friends are how I cope."

Without another word spoken, I pulled ahead with a momentarily-quickened pace to move up alongside Zjitzo while still allowing him to have the lead.

For a few moments, I said nothing. You work your way into these kinds of conversations, not jump straight into it.

"What you were talking about back there was none of your business," he groused, completely out of the blue. Off to a great start already.

"No, it wasn't." I gave a gentle shake of my head. "I am sorry for that. And I'm sorry about your sergeant."

Zjitzo grunted lowly. "There isn't anything to be sorry for. Shit happens."

"Shit happens, yes," I nodded in agreement to that. "Yet it still gets to you."

Almost immediately after, he raised his voice enough for the others to hear clearly, throwing an unwavering glare my way. "I'm not sure you understand, Star Shooter. He was a close acquaintance of mine, perhaps one of the closest I had."

I didn't flinch. "I do understand. In fact, what you are feeling right now is mutual."

"Why?" he queried coldly. "You didn't know him."

"Not the intended context, Captain," I gazed forward. "But it flashes back to my own experiences."

Zjitzo blinked, softening his glare. "Have you lost someone close to you before?"

I gave a firm nod in response. "Yes. Somewhat recently, actually." My ears lost their attentive perk at the thought of the topic. "His name was Solar Wave. Private First Class, a member of my squadron since training commenced."

Giving pause to swallow the lump in my throat, a grim edge attached to my tone. "He was only seventeen. Lied about his age just to enlist by himself, wanted to make his parents proud. I suppose, in the long run, he did."

I drew in a small breath, sighing. "But now... here I am blaming myself. Even for the times I stood up for him, I feel as though I wasn't there enough in the few months we knew each other. When somepony you are tasked with making sure they go home to see their family at the end of the day passes unexpectedly, it sticks with you. It haunts you for the rest of your life."

Turning to glance over his shoulder, the taller avian figure stared sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm moving on." My pensive focus remained straight ahead, shoving down the sorrow that would lead to a total emotional breakdown. "All it does is teach me to be more watchful, so it can be prevented next time."

Zjitzo nodded once. "That's good," was his neutral response, seeming as if he didn't know what to really say to that. There was a short silence before he spoke again. "How did he die, if you don't mind me asking, of course?"

"Leapt over and covered a cooked grenade in a stairwell that we were all in. Would have wiped us all out if it weren't for him." My head dipped a little in slight reflection, a glower taking form across my countenance. "I question all the time why he didn't just kick it back out into the hall. Or... wrap it up in magic with Silver's help."

"Most grenades nowadays disperse a unicorn's aura when it detonates. The substance used is called Composition F, one of the newer chemical combinations that infuses a powdery element known as Belua, which acts as a magic dampener. A unicorn can hold a grenade as long as they'd like, but the moment its charge ignites, the Belua is released mere nanoseconds ahead of the explosion," explained Zjitzo, a stern tone to his voice.

"It is steadily becoming that way for all types of explosives, as it is believed unicorns have an unfair advantage in battle. This change is meant to level the playing field, as horrible as it is to say that."

As he explained, I peered my eyes over, only turning my head when he concluded. "Well, that... isn't much assurance. But hey, I know what to tell my buddies now. You know, when this is all over."

Zjitzo tipped his beak affirmingly. For another short period of time, we strode in silence. It broke when the griffon captain started again.

"Just a short while ago, you were so apprehensive around me and my troops. Now you walk among us with no fear, treading into dangerous territory both figuratively and literally," he began, turning over his shoulder. "Why do you show concern for me?"

"It's as I said, Zjitzo. You proved your loyalty to me, and you earned my trust. Maybe even a little more than that. The least I can do is return the favor and be a friend." I responded, drifting my gaze to his directly.

The griffon's grass-green irides honed in on me. "Friends aren't made after an hour of being in each other's presence, Star. We may trust each other, but I would not consider us friends or even acquaintances just yet."

"See? This is the grief talking for you!" I rejoined, striding forward and staring right back, only for him to look away, as if he was no longer interested in seeing me. His head no longer stood attentively, and even his eyes faltered to the rails.

"You don't actually feel this way. Granted, we did only just meet, but that doesn't alter my point in the slightest. Tell me, Zjitzo, is this how you treat everyone you come across?"

He went quiet. Over the course of a few seconds, his pace slowed, and I found myself to be slightly ahead of him, prompting me to stop and wait for him to catch up.

"Huh?" I reiterated, demanding an answer out of him now. "Is it?"

"No!" he yelled out of frustration, grousing, "Ugh... Why are most ponies I meet so persistent for information?"

"Because you are one mysterious griffon," I retorted. "When something happens—to you, specifically—a veil goes up over you, and you refuse to let anyone cut that veil and help you."

"I can help myself just fine. Independence is a wonderful value to learn in life."

"But it can lead to miscommunication, as well. It isn't exactly a good thing to mask yourself before the individuals you are supposed to be working with and helping you out, and those that you hold close to your heart. It took me a little bit too long to realize that in my own case, but now I do."

Zjitzo shifted to me once more, his brow raised. "So, what, I open up, and I risk vulnerability?"

"Is that what this is, trust issues? If that's the case, why did you put your trust in me? Why bother going through all of the trouble when you know, at any given moment, I could swipe your sidearm and put two rounds in your skull?"

His green cores glared daggers. "Because you wouldn't win the fight, regardless if you are successful. If I go down, so will you."

"Not if your own team had my six," I remarked, causing the big griffon to recoil slightly. "Not if they shared my views regarding you."

At that, Zjitzo halted in his tracks and spun a complete one-eighty, paws squeaking loudly across the tunnel. Instantly, his squad mates stopped, acting as if they were caught off-guard.

"Is this how you feel about me?" he questioned, fixating on none of his fellow griffons specifically, his disappointed scowl carrying across each with equal weight.

However, before any response was given, a quiet voice emit from the captain's radio. My ears perked as I glanced at the thin wire stretching below his plates, up to the piece built into his helmet. Zjitzo twisted a small knob on a device with two clicks, raising the volume for us to listen in.

"We need some serious backup on 97th and Miriam! Numerous hostile... whatever... are making their way toward known civilian locations!"

The stranger part, but also the most uncanny of it, was that I knew the voice almost as soon as it started talking.

"That voice..." My eyes grew wide in sudden realization. "I recognize it!"

"Who is it?" Zjitzo glanced up from his chest.

"That's Sergeant Sunset Haze. Led our team on the Alder that night, was injured when the rescue basket struck him. He is my buddy Ashfall's platoon sergeant." I looked up between them.

"However many of them there are fighting, they must be extremely outnumbered." Zaria grunted, followed by a scoff. "Fuckin' Armet..."

"They don't nearly have the firepower to fend off those drones if they are like the one we saw earlier." My breath quickened as adrenaline kicked back in, picturing the most horrifying thought conceivable in that instance, and that was Ash and Night being boxed in, among perhaps dozens of other Marines. "Th-they need our help!" Out of fear for my fellow pony, wherever we were truly headed could wait. I began to turn around.

Before I could start running, a swift claw clutched my arm tightly and spun me back around. Holding me by the shoulders, Zjitzo loomed over. "We can't go back yet. It's far too risky!"

"Captain..." my ears pinned back, eyes glassing over in a thin trace of building tears. "I'm a Marine. I am supposed to sprint toward the danger, not cower away from it. Those are my friends up there, and they are dying!"

"Shooter, if we so much as step foot above ground, we are toast!" he shook me gently. "Do you understand that?! We have an objective to follow! We can't abandon it just to save a couple of ponies you know!"

I knew he was right. Going up to help was suicide. Yet that is what Marines do for a living. Sometimes we come home, sometimes we don't. It was a risk I would willingly take, but to what avail? No one would be saved if I am killed the moment I pop my head out of a ponyhole.

My nose twitched as the chances of success processed through my head. Soon it became apparent what had to be done, and the call was tough. With much reluctance, I gave my response in the form of a slow nod. "I... I understand."

"Good." He let go, doing so with enough force to gently shove against my chest, though not to move me. Placing a talon on the handle of his rifle hanging by a strap around his neck, Zjitzo stopped halfway as he turned around. "I'm sorry. I wish there was more we can do."

I let out a sharp huff, blinking heavily to disperse the tears. My breath remained laborious in nature while I attempted to hold my composure intact. "Me, too." With that, I proceeded along.

However, our journey did not get us very far.

“Damn it. End of the line,” grunted Hermes, shining his light across the gigantic steel cap that closed off the tunnel.

Out of the corner of my eye, I picked up on something. The faintest sliver of light emanating from a thin space below a door. I started towards it, attracting Zaria’s attention as I did so, and she helped by moving her flashlight over to where I approached.

I immediately halted in my tracks upon seeing a rather strange steel door, handle latch wired to a keypad that signified the need for a passcode. Still, I walked up to the door and attempted to open. Locked.

Two silenced rounds whisked past my hoof, striking the little panel and the lock. I flinched heavily, lurching sideways and snapping my head over my shoulder to Zjitzo, who lowered his rifle. I threw up a hoof in gesture, glaring at him, before pulling on the handle. While heavy, the door glided open like a dream, casting the interior light in the doorframe’s shape across the opposite wall of the tunnel.

Everyone now stared at the entrance scrutinizingly as their forms were illuminated. The first steps I took were ones of caution, as were every that followed upon entering the corridor. From the start, its very existence seemed very abrupt and in stark contrast to the rest of the subway tube, and how this area had electricity like this was beyond me. It prompted them to switch off their flashlight attachments to conserve battery life.

The doorway opened to a three-step staircase into a narrow service tunnel, comfortably lit with newer bulbs and built to occupy one pony at a time. Judging by the integrity of the concrete the passageway consisted of, it had to have been constructed recently; within the past few months, at most. It led to a steel ladder with safety railing encompassing the length down to about six feet above the ground below.

One by one, we climbed down the ladder, landing onto a small plain platform that just barely fit the five of us comfortably. To the left on our way down sat a heavy duty door with a triangular electrical symbol printed at eye-level on it. For safe measures, we checked it in case of a deceptive sign that masks something else within. This time, however, it was exactly as advertised, containing a small area with breakers and wiring neatly lined along the walls.

Then, our attention turned to the edge of the platform, where a long, white bridge of sorts stood some five feet above the bottom of the tunnel on thick pillars. Its edges were smooth and round, like the monorail track at Adventure World in Mareami, albeit slightly different. Perhaps it was just standing this close that made it seem to have distinct design features.

"What is this?" questioned Zjitzo to himself, examining the singular rail.

"Monorail," I answered. "I wasn't even aware Manehattan had a monorail system."

"Can't be public transport," remarked Hermes. "Most I know of are above ground."

It wasn't more than a few seconds when a conclusion pieced together in my head. "What else is GenTech hiding down here?"

The griffon captain peeked out, peering either direction. The poorly lit tunnel allotted little judgement of what it led to, as well as the curve in the left direction. His sights settled that way. "There, that should take us north."

I glanced over the edge, down into the dark pit that was the bottom of the massive tube. While the floor was in sight, the darkness made it seem like a larger drop than it actually was, sinking my stomach only a little. I looked up at Zjitzo. "Don't suppose you have a path preference, do you?"

Before a response could be given, Zaria leaped across the gap, her claws scratching and sparking against the rail. Not a second later, Hermes jumped, followed by Hades, and then Zjitzo. They cleared some room for me to follow suit.

Stepping back as far as the platform would allow, I charged forward, spreading my wings. The gap cleared can't have been more than six or seven feet, and I have jumped farther in my past. Hell, I could have done it without my wings, as all they did was make the glide smoother.

My hooves skidded a bit upon touchdown, compelling me to scramble in brief panic as the other edge drew nearer for a moment. I panted, grasping my chest when it was over. Turning to Zjitzo, he gave a firm nod, starting down the line approaching the corner with the rest of us tailing closely.

The lowest of rumbles reverberated throughout the length of the tunnel that never seemed to diminish nor grow louder. Couldn't have been a train passing adjacently, seeing as all rail service had been suspended indefinitely as soon as the first quake struck and a state of emergency was enacted. This sounded more like a generator, whatever kept the lights on. Perhaps what powered them emits a constant, eerie roar, escaping through the wiring containing it.

At the curve's end sat roughly a mile and a half of straightaway, and at the end of that shined a brightly-lit area that only became apparent the closer we came. Like a subway station, albeit significantly smaller and much more bland compared to one, the platform led to a short tiled corridor and later rounded into a tall flight of stairs.

From there, Zjitzo maintained lead, having his weapon drawn as he cautiously climbed the steps. Met with more concrete walls and wide doorways, the layout deceived us into thinking we were still underground. When we rounded into a much larger passageway, however, our minds shifted gears real quick.

Rays of sunlight poked through the skylights of the massive warehouse's arch-shaped metal roof, standing perhaps two or three stories with a few narrow catwalks suspended above that stretched the span of the structure, leading to second-floor offices overlooking the main storage area. Crates upon crates and countless containers of varying sizes and lengths lined the walls and three more rows in between, stacked with symmetry in consideration.

On the undamaged floors, rectangular patches of clean concrete occupied some more-open spaces, indicating a few of these packages had been recently moved elsewhere.

"Man, I hoped I wouldn't see one of these so soon," I uttered in remark to the much older, worn-down place back in Los Pegasus. The mention briefly drew the captain's attention, but he waved it off.

For the first couple of minutes stepping hoof into the building, neither of us had a clue what contents were contained here. That was, until a shipping label printed on the top of a wooden-planked box read 'Ship to: GenTech Inc. Warehousing, Manehattan Navy Yards, Manehattan, Equestria'.

Upon closer inspection, each of these read similarly, except for the majority of their return addresses spanning from Seaddle to Hoofston, and even a couple from Trottingham.

"Well, I'll be," began Zjitzo, examining our surroundings thoroughly. "They connected their corporate headquarters to a tech storage facility."

"Makes more sense than public transport to get between locations quickly," I remarked, strolling down one of the aisles and stopping halfway to glance back at him. "Whoever works research and development in his building's labs can stop by whenever they'd like to grab something they need, or take a look at a new prototype. I bet you most of these came in from their factories across the country."

While remaining close by, the five of us split up in our own directions to further survey the building. Hermes and Zaria scanned for signs of life in case we weren't alone while Zjitzo, his PFC, and myself explored, searching for anything that might prove useful later on.

One particular collection caught in the corner of my eye, prompting me to walk over. A black, heavy-duty briefcase locked by thick plastic clips sat on its side atop a tall brown box, easy to open at the push of pressure buttons on the sides. Either clip flicked outward with soft clicks, and the top of the case cracked ajar.

Lifting it, my gaze set upon a pair of modernly-designed sunglasses placed neatly in a grey foam lining within, the wedge-shaped lenses almost completely blacked out along the front to conceal the wearer's eyes completely. Along the side of the frame arms flickered a little green light beside a tiny button indiscernible except for up close.

Curiously, I pressed it, and almost instantly the quiet sounds of a computer processor starting up emit from them. Checking my surroundings briefly, I put the spectacles over my eyes. By their own superficial instinct, the lenses adjusted to the lighting inside the warehouse. The peculiar translucency of the glass from behind gave the idea that they were for one's aided eyesight. In fact, they seemed to not darken my line of view whatsoever, despite retaining a roughly ninety-percent opacity if one were to look at me while I wore them. That alone made it one impressive piece of technology.

Before my eyes flashed the blue GenTech logo with a loading bar sat beneath it. It filled quickly, transitioning smoothly to a HUD of greens, blues, and oranges that popped up along the edges without obscuring view. Little numbers in non-distracting hues read surrounding temperature, latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates, among other details of information. At that, it started scanning the area.

Awe filled my mind, and just by merely glancing around, I felt like a little colt testing out a toy train on Hearth's Warming. Admittedly, in spite of all the bad transpiring everywhere one looks, GenTech did concoct some impressive gadgets. If their tech wasn't currently being used to kill hundreds at a time, I might just fully agree with my thoughts.

"Shooter!" called Zjitzo, prompting me to snap his direction. The glasses temporarily halted in its areal sweep of building and fixated a fine yellow outline around his form. Beside it popped up the words, 'Proceed with caution', indicating the computer had also been programmed to detect whether or not certain beings are a threat to the wearer's well-being. That is another nice little touch.

Regardless, I lifted the shades up to sit in my mane, which then powered them off on their own behavior. I trotted toward the griffon captain. "What's up?" I questioned, halting just short of him.

Zjitzo's light green irides darted up at the computerized spectacles momentarily, only to return to me more sternly. "If this place is in any way aiding to the plans of Armet Mace, it would be in our best interest to destroy everything in here."

At that, my eyes widened. "E-everything? There isn't much in here but weapons it looks like." I stopped, flicking a glance up toward my crown. "And a couple of exceptions for shit I could previously only dream of."

The brown and white griffon tilted his head, retaining a neutral expression. "Star, you know the situation." He then rolled his eyes, sighing. "Keep the glasses if you would like, I know a pony who can reconfigure them to your taste. Until then, we torch this place."

"You aren't torching anything!"

I whipped completely around, instantly dropping into a defensive stance. Simultaneously, Zjitzo drew his rifle, joined shortly after by the rest of his crew gathering on our sides.

To our total surprise, an entire squadron of ponies had entered quiet as mice, despite the heavy tactical gear they sported. I counted at least eight of the same futuristically-designed steel-colored rifles pointed at the five of us. Every inch of their bodies—minus their eyes, of course—were covered by thick kevlar plating. Frankly, it wouldn't shock me if their entire individual loadouts consisted of similar armor all across.

"You five are under arrest on behalf of the orders of Commander Armet Mace," addressed the taller stallion stood just ahead of the other troops. A modulator in his helmet altered the tone of his voice to sound more menacingly robotic than we knew he was.

My sights narrowed on the blue-eyed earth pony with suspicion. "Really? Forgive me, I was not aware Armet is our new dictator overlord."

"He is now."

I lunged to the side, diving against cover as a storm of supercharged energy bullets shot through the warehouse. The griffon captain and his squad each went their own way. Zaria flew up to a catwalk for an overhead view, Hermes and the private first class pulling each other behind a heavy container, while Zjitzo took off in a sprint for one of the walls for shelter. From their respective positions, the four of them opened fire upon the advancing squadron.

Without a weapon to return the engagement, once more I felt useless in the fight. A couple of enemy rounds blasted through the side of a wooden-planked crate, exploding a rather large portion of the lid into splinters that rained around me. My curious attention remained on the inside as I pulled off what was left of the top.

Sifting through the papershred-filled crate, my hoof swiped across the side of a weapon. I took it swiftly by the stock, lifting it up to reveal a SCAR-H in a sleek, jet black design, with a small glass holographic attachment on top. It brought a wide grin to my muzzle. “Ho, ho. I can live with this!”

However, a gun without ammo wouldn't get me very far in this fight, though a heavy-duty cache to my right quickly changed that. Opening the chest, my hoof blindly reached for a small utility box neatly packed with some thirty SCAR magazines, snatching one up, and hastily inserting it.

Cocking the handle, flicking the selective fire switch first to burst mode, I was ready to roll. The rifle itself, while packing a bit more weight than the M16, had just a little bit more control upon readying my aim.

In the roughly forty seconds spent loading up, more enemies had stormed in behind the first squadron and were beginning to fan out across the warehouse in attempt to flank us. To my left, Hermes, Zjitzo, and Hades had much of one aisle covered by their own fire. Up above, Zaria alternated between the right-side walkway and the area where a few of the gunponies hid.

Scooting to my right to glance around the corner, a pair of operatives rushed toward me without taking immediate notice of my location. At such close range, the shades would not be of much assistance, I figured, thus prompting me to eyeball my aim.

The holographic sight followed the leading pony's movements, and at the pull of the trigger, three rounds drove into his shoulder. One caught just narrowly by the lower edge of his guards, the other two striking his barrel beside one another. Despite the protective material in his clothing, either bullets still made contact with flesh, bloodying the punctures made.

He fell, causing the second sentry to take notice and raise his weapon to shoot. Before he could, another burst from my SCAR put a swift halt to his acts. With a pained grunt, grasping his bleeding chest, he fell flat on his back and dropped his gun. For added assurance, I put two extra bursts into either body, and thus the duo went limp.

This thing has a kick to it... I thought to myself. While the opportunity was prime, I dashed across the walkway, up against a more sturdier cover of a half-empty shipping container for a better vantage point on the enemy.

For seemingly the first full minute of the fight, it appeared strictly as an engaged standoff, with us outnumbered. As long as they didn't have more backup on the way, with the combat skill shown by these griffons and the new toys picked up, I couldn't see this in particular going anywhere but our favor.

Granted, these ponies did have tech of their own, as well. Their suits did jack shit to keep them from going down, though the weapons each wielded and fired compensated for lack of proper body armor. Shots that landed nearby left circular scorch marks surrounding the impact site on the surface of whatever they struck, and after each one, the sizzling of the heat burning away at solid concrete or wood faintly sounded in the milliseconds between the exchange of normal and heavily-advanced gunfire.

Each adrenaline-fueled pump of my heart threatened to waver my concentration. Horrid reminiscences of past combat situations boded a panic attack that would surely result in disaster through multiple possible outcomes. Over the course of just a few seconds, four or five of my expelled rounds in a row missed one open sentry by a long shot, resulting in his attention attracting my way and forcing me back around the container as a rain of laser-like bullets relentlessly pelted its corner. One did penetrate the thin metal, grazing along the sleeve of my jump suit. While it hadn't burnt a hole in the cloth, its heat was immense enough to still melt a very thin portion of the material and briefly scald a trace of flesh beneath.

I let out a soft yip and recoiled right, my noise drowned out primarily by the symphony of fire occurring all around. Running a swift hoof across my arm to check for any potentially significant injury, and upon discovering there to be none, my focus briskly returned to combat mode.

A small explosion rocked the building as an enemy bullet had evidently made contact with combustible equipment stored in one of the crates, setting fire to a small collection of items in one row. Though it was of the captain's intentions to let the place burn to the ground, it would do us no good if we are still in here when that happens. Thankfully, the blaze appeared isolated for the time being.

Having been slightly jarred by the sudden pop, it was enough time for the soldier to bombard me unexpectedly. The side of his rifle smashed into my jaw, knocking me back with the SCAR still in-hoof. Without a moment for me to react, he took aim, preparing to shoot. At point-blank proximity, and with how much damage I presumed his ammunition can deal, this was the end.

For a split second, we made eye contact. At least, it feels like we did. His face mask covered every square inch of his muzzle from the forehead down, and past the thick blue lenses of the piece's lens holes I just narrowly discerned his eyes as they set upon me.

Then, he lurched. A small splatter of blood originated from the back of his neck where it connected to his shoulder indicated the impact of a bullet, and out of reflex, he fired his own weapon. Having jolted, however, the shot was blind and struck a hanging light fixture above just a mere second before he collapsed at my legs.

I looked up, noting Zaria taking a moment after eliminating him to give a single tip of her beak and a talon gesture with one finger of her claw pointed upward. At that, I returned a quick wave of my hoof and was back up on all fours in no time. In that span, a whole other squadron of enemy insurgents stormed the warehouse and were starting to fan out in attempt to flank us. Now the odds were less in our favor.

No matter the circumstances, nor the looming, increasingly-likely defeat in store, I would fight. For as long as new, filled magazines were within reach, I would not stop unloading them upon these bastards. If it ends with me in a pool of my own blood on the floor, so be it.

But fate wasn't about to let that happen. Windows near the top of the warehouse's walls broke as little projectiles were tossed through them, one of which emitting a low amount of smoke. Upon landing, a grey veil rapidly engulfed the warehouse, before a flash like lightning in a storm cloud blinded the enemy's side of the building, followed by a faint ringing in my ears that momentarily threw me off. Grunts and cries of the shocked variety replaced the medley of gunfire as presumably all of the advancing soldiers attempted to regain their senses.

At the faintest of noises along the east face of the building, they prompted the captain into action. "Move, move!" ordered Zjitzo, darting ahead to pull both Hermes and Hades back just moments preceding another small explosion that blew a pony-sized chunk of wall inward, showering bits of steel and cinderblock some ten or twenty feet into the facility.

The three didn't engage initially, but still had their weapons drawn. My attention shifted to the gape, steadying the sight's aim on the SCAR, anticipating an extra set of Armet's troops to storm in to further worsen the odds of escaping alive. It was out of instinct when I pulled the trigger, driving two rounds into the chest of the first figure that entered.

A grunt bellowed from the pony, either bullet only forcing him down onto his knees, but he was back up in seconds. In the smoke, he glanced up, and in the shroud I felt a hardened glare settle upon me.

"Watch your fucking fire, Corporal!" he yelled, catching me completely off guard. In the time spent pondering the voice's familiarity, more ponies of varying size and race closely followed him inside, and more fire erupted into the smoke, fighting back against Armet's forces.

For some reason beyond me, those words left me in a mild state of shock, enough to where I couldn't clearly focus enough to engage along with them. Frankly, it could have been a whole minute—and I think it was—when some sense of reality returned to me. By then, the fight was apparently over, and the smoke gradually dissipated in time to confirm this. When it did somewhat, it at last allowed me to figure out just who had come to our rescue.

A silhouetted group of Marines advanced to where the enemies once were, surveying the premises for any signs of life to put down just in case. Behind them stood an earth pony, a pegasus, and a unicorn; the two latter of the three sporting the dirtied, borderline unrecognizable uniforms of the Lunar Navy. The realization didn't take long to strike me.

"Ash? Silver? Anchor?!" I called, volume increasing at each name, standing upright out of cover and proceeding cautiously toward the three as their features became more discernible against the outside light and thinning smog.

"Star?!" squeaked out a surprised Anchorage, almost sounding unlike himself. He blinked quickly, maw parted in shock. At his side, Silver Edge instead grew a wide grin of elation on his muzzle.

"By the gods, it's you!" grunted Ashfall in relief, his rifle dropping with a clatter on the concrete as he fast-walked toward me and extended an arm out.

All was bittersweet in this moment. Just minutes prior, the impending threat of being killed in action left a fear in my essence, and now, my friends were here, reunited. It washed away a persistent consternation that they had been wiped out.

“I thought you were dead, buddy!” I took Ash’s strong hoof with grace, bringing him into a cordial embrace where we both roughly patted each other’s back or neck in joy. Tears produced by a mix of emotions gathered in my eyes, prompting me to wipe them down when we broke the hug. “I-I heard your sergeant call out, saying you were in trouble. How in the hell did you make it out alive?”

“We got the backup we requested, and then some,” said Silver, pointing over to an all-black-wearing white pegasus on his way back to us. He pulled the full-masked helmet he wore off and shook his head to let his black and blue mane fall down. With a soft smirk across his muzzle, the crimson cores of Lieutenant Snow Storm met my own.

“Son of a bitch, I’d kill you if I ever thought it was possible,” he joked, slugging my shoulder. “The fucking shit were you thinking not coming to meet with us?”

“I didn’t know where to go from where I had landed, Lieutenant. After that I went to go help.” My head dipped in shame. “I'm sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it now. I’m just glad you landed in one piece. But I should pound your ass into the dirt for shooting me.” Snow’s attention then shifted over to the tall griffon on my left, lips pursing into a smirk. “Hey, featherfuck.”

“What’s up, twinkle-hooves?” simpered Zjitzo, bringing up a talon clenched into a fist and pumping it into the base of Snow’s hoof in cordial gesture.

“Your nickname’s better,” nickered Snow, garnering a roll of the griffon’s eyes and a scoff.

I blinked a couple of times, glancing between the two as Snow gently shoved a hoof into Zjitzo's chest, which did nothing to budge him. "You know each other?"

The pegasus' soft crimson gaze met mine. He smiled. "Of course. We are virtually one in the same.”

"You know, that makes a lot more sense now." In that instance, a thought from earlier hit me, widening my eyes toward Zjitzo. "Wait, you are the contacts?!"

He gave a firm nod of his head. "You bet. While you lot were in Los Pegasus, we discussed potential meeting locations for when you arrived to exchange intel."

Snow stepped forth, proceeding with further explanation. “After we got separated in the jump, I temporarily broke radio silence to inform Captain Zjitzo to be on the lookout for you and nab you if found so we could all regroup.” He flicked a glance at the tall griffon officer, saying with a slight edge to his tone, “This wasn’t the plan to rendezvous here, but whatever works.”

A grimace took form on the captain's face, turning to the lieutenant. "You'd know our rendezvous point is probably swarming with these pricks. Besides, we had to make do with our own escape route."

Hearing this, Anchorage's brow furrowed as dismay took to his countenance. "So we are talkin' a full-scale artificial intelligence takeover?"

"More or less, yes," answered Javelin, strolling up beside his superior, suspending a small tablet in his magic's hold and swirling a hoof on the screen. He only glanced up when he halted at our group. "I am still working out the source of their signal. My best estimate is that the titans are controlled remotely. Then again, there are so many of them out there, I can't be for certain."

"The ones back around Bridleway sure weren't," chimed Ashfall, rubbing a hoof in his ear and flicking it afterward. "You know, the ones with miniguns on their shoulders."

"Right." Javelin nodded at Ash, tucking his device securely into a pocket beneath his vest. "Easy to defeat if you know just the precise spot to strike, typically better penetrable by rounds of a higher caliber. Should help in the fight now that word's spreading across the city."

"It's not just those you have to be concerned about, Techie," chimed Hermes, blinking slowly. "We just barely managed to take down one of the big ones. Those ones you gotta look out for, they be zappin' ponies left and right."

"Particularly unicorns," I added grimly, which snatched not just Javelin's direct attention, but Silver's, too. "Armet is using his machines to pull the magic straight out of them in a process that kills afterward. Not to mention the blasters that can vaporize you instantly."

At that, Zjitzo glanced away in a brooding grimace. Snow Storm picked up on it, and following a quick glance around, silently reacted in comprehension. He proceeded to pull the captain away to talk in private, going strictly unnoticed by the majority of us.

"So he is collecting ponies' magic. That's lovely," groused Silver, now with some worry in his expression and tone.

Anchorage gently hooked a hoof around the back of the beige unicorn's neck. "We won't let 'em take it from you, mate. I can promise ya that."

"Then we'd best find a solution while we have time," said Hades, garnering a collection of nods in agreement.

My gaze then shifted to Ash when a realization hit me. "Where's Night? Don't you dare say dead!"

The moss stallion shook his head. While concern showed on his mien, he displayed some optimism that quelled my own distress. "Hurt in the quake. He's back at base, he should be doing fine right now."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Luna." As much as I longed to know what happened, it would be best if I didn't so as to not stress myself to death. "Now what?"

"Now..." Zjitzo said, flicking open the lid of a squared lighter to ignite its flame. "We burn this bitch to the ground."

"Less supplies for GenTech to replenish with today is one less headache for us to deal with tomorrow," said Snow sternly, gazing across our group. "So grab what you need and nothing more. You have five minutes."

At the lieutenant's word, everyone split up to seek out fresh magazines for their respective weapons. Thankfully this place was abundant with them for every gun on us.

Returning to the crate full of SCAR ammunition, I snatched up a new magazine to replace the emptied one in my gun, then a few more—as many as I could carry on my person, totaling up to six extra mags that should be adequate enough for another fight, as this battle was far from won.

As I stocked up, in the background I could hear Snow and Javelin arguing over what sounded like a rather unnecessary piece of technology the young unicorn had recovered. That dispute ended rather quickly when the remark came that it could prove handy to be used against its own manufacturer.

Regrouping near the hole blasted in the wall, we began hastily filing out of the warehouse to get clear, as it was in the two superiors' plan to blow the place up rather than simply set it ablaze.

The captain grunted heavily, talon clenched tightly around the wheel as he put all of his might into twisting. Struggling for a few moments, the lever loosened, opening the canister just enough to begin releasing the contents within. He cautiously laid it on the floor, signalling the lieutenant to throw down the lighter.

As soon as the lighter left his hoof, the two took off in a sprint for the exit. The flame meeting the unleashed transparent cloud ignited it instantaneously. Within a couple of seconds, the fire spread inside the canister, reacting in a violent explosion that, upon reaching some of the crates around it, triggered a chain reaction that detonated most of the gunpowder contained in stored ammunition.

Just barely clear of the building, the resulting blast threw both the captain and the lieutenant a good ten feet in the air, landing near where we had taken cover. The shock as it hit left me temporarily deaf, and its physical force was enough to tip freight cars parked nearby. The heat that swept over us was that of ten July afternoons all at once; enough to melt one's clothes right off your skin if within a certain proximity.

Any remaining window in the warehouse and countless more in the surrounding blocks not yet shattered simultaneously, and fire spread out from every opening, gathering into an enormous plume that climbed rapidly into the smoggy sky to later be carried seaward by upper level winds. One whole half of the structure's roof blew upward, only to then collapse down and crush the walls into a pile of flaming rubble. Pieces of steel roofing, rock, and bits of wood ejected from crates and containers within rained for two square miles around the source.

In the seconds that followed, we peeked or even stood up out of our cover, watching as the massive place burned. Small pops of ammunition still detonating within became frequent for a good two and a half minutes, until another large section of roof caved in, kicking up dust that spread out slowly from the blaze.

"It's a shame," said Silver, propping up with a gun he had taken.

"What is?" Ash glanced over, puzzled.

"All of those ponies we left in there, the ones that might have just been incapacitated. They were brainwashed into thinking this was for a good cause." The sailor pitifully shook his head. "Why can't I help but feel some remorse for them?"

Anchorage scoffed. "I feel no sympathy for anyone who so much as ponders that genocide is a splendid idea," he retorted.

"Hey, hey, quiet down, please!" requested Spruce, the lieutenant's communications officer, covering one side of his headset with a hoof. Very quickly the roar of the fire behind us was the only obtrusive constant for him to hear over.

"Our forces are regrouping around Lower Manehattan and the park to push back against the drones," the dark green, scruffy-chinned earth pony said, his unfocused sky blue gaze dashing about as he further listened. "But I'm hearing something about a hostage situation in Midtown."

This perked Snow Storm a bit more. "Hostage situation?" he flashed a look at his griffon companion. "Whereabouts in Midtown?"

"Equestria Today Studios."

The name of the place struck me as familiar, without a sign as to why it did. Where on earth did I hear—

Then I remembered. All time seemed to stop around me as my world came crashing down all at once. I felt my blood physically turn cold, and for a good few seconds, I wasn’t sure if my heart was even pumping for that time.

“R-Ray…!” I wheezed out through a shortness of breath, my hooves temporarily threatening to collapse.

Evidently, my forced whisper had been audible enough for the others to catch on to, and at least a dozen pairs of eyes were drawn to me just in time to note of my abrupt state of trepidation.

"What?" Anchorage blinked a couple of times as confusion splayed across his features.

My jaw parted, ready to enter a ramble. However, it dumbfounded me to discover none of the words made it past my esophagus. For a couple of seconds, I sputtered and staggered before eventually giving up. By now, my heart was beating again, unhealthily pounding away at my eardrums like a jock going down on a gym punching bag. Signals crossed in my brain, rendering me utterly confused as to what should be done in that very instance.

"Ray..." Snow lightly tapped his chin with a hoof in a muse, ears standing attentively when a bulb lit up in his mind. "You mentioned him back in Los Pegasus, when you were in a drunken daze. He a friend of yours?"

No response was given. None that could be understood without some sort of mental translator, that is. With all that crossed my head at one time, what the lieutenant asked flew right past me, and my lack of a proper answer prompted him to switch gears.

"Zjitzo and I will take the square around the studio. The lot of you we will return to your respective squads and divisions while there is time," addressed Snow. "I imagine your squad and division leaders are each wondering where you all are right about now."

"If I knew where the hell my platoon sergeant is, I-I would've regrouped with him and the rest of my squad long ago," I responded with angst in my tone, being the first coherent sentence in at least a few minutes, despite it sort of not making any sense.

"That is why I said we'll find them, and you will go by their instructions from now until this is over," Snow added, turning to the others to continue.

I could not sit here and take these orders. The monorail tunnel marked the last time I would reject personal judgement in exchange for my own safety today. Ash and the others could at least fend for themselves. This was different now.

There wasn't so much as a second of hesitation when I took off in a sprint, swiftly pushing past Ash and Hermes. My gallop, however, was simply to muster sufficient speed to take off. It caught the two groups completely off guard as I spread my wings and lifted skyward.

"Whoa. Could he do that before?!" squeaked Silver in total surprise, the bewilderment from my initial reaction lingering with him.

"Star, wait!" called out Anchorage, leaping airborne after me. I was gone too quick for even him to catch me. He stopped in a hover, looking back down at the combination of griffons and ponies, yelling with a hoof pointed, "Follow him!"

How could I be so damn ignorant? I criticized myself mentally. I knew he would be here. He told me his damn self! How on earth could I forget something like that?

I hadn't taken a moment to consider just how far Midtown was from where we were, in the Warehouse District near the Port of Manehattan. The fact that my flight took me across the Trotson River whisked directly past my situational awareness. Distance nor geographical obstacles didn't concern me then, or the realization of my own insubordination. He was in danger.

***

Four individual barrels belonging to guns of equivalent design aimed intimidatingly over the cornered group lined in prisoner-like manner along the studio's rear wall, with a fifth pony—an officer in command of this small detachment—strolled nonchalantly behind them, lips pursed in a small smirk.

Two authoritative bodies lay across the tile, heads turned sideways with bullet holes through one's temple and in the gut and chest of the second. Trickled blood long ceased spilling stained the white uniforms a dark crimson and purple, with the trails feeding into little pools of ichor beside their lifeless forms. The two security guards' sidearms lay spent of ammunition, one of which crumbled into a pile of glass-like shards of steel.

Debris from what was once furniture and other heavy items used to barricade the only entrance scattered across the studio floor, having stood no chance against the strength of these ponies and the strange armor they wore. One kick of an earth pony's hinds completely blew the door and everything blocking it inward as if a bomb had gone off. Within a minute, both officers were knocked down to later be executed before the group of petrified ponies.

Part of the deal was that if they kept quiet, no one would be hurt. Over the course of a few hours, that notion increasingly became less credible with their apparent demeanor. But it didn't make sense as to why they were being held here for this long.

"Just what are you going to do to us?" asked Firetail anxiously. The question had been sitting on top of his head for some time, one he was sure the others found mutual.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the officer simpered sinisterly. "Commander's told me a lot about you, even what you have said about him on some of your weekend shows. Besides, didn't I say for you to shut up?"

At that, the television personality went quiet in fear for his own life. In spite of his own apprehension, Ray was not as intimidated.

"You're awfully vague. What do you want with us? What is this all about?"

"GenTech is making a few changes around these parts," one soldier said. "It begins with eliminating the weak, debilitating the strong, and ends with everyone happily living their lives."

"I wouldn't exactly call the total destruction of an entire city and the deaths of thousands something to move on so willingly from," sneered Ray condescendingly.

"Trust me. When the process is complete, everypony from sea to shining sea will be begging for an improved society. Manehattan is just the start of a step into the future of ponykind!"

"No, everyone across the world will see how psychotic you are. They will condemn it. Equestria will castigate it!" Ray sat up more. "Even if your plans do work out, what makes you think things will stay that way forever?"

The officer cocked his head, a wily grin spread from ear to ear. "And what makes you think we will be so gracefully stopped?"

"My friend is a Lunar Marine." Ray stared coldly. "Just you watch, he and his buddies will come in here any minute and shove his hoof so far up your ass, you'll be his new puppet!"

A swift hoof took the golden pegasus by the vest, lifting him effortlessly from the floor. Quiet gasps escaped the lips of the others with him as they helplessly watched. Limp in fear, Ray breathed short breaths, heart punching at his chest.

Feeling the beat through his gloved hoof, the stallion let off a low chuckle, his voice robotic by the modifier in his mask. "I have had just about enough of you talking."

Before Ray knew it, he was airborne, thrown completely across the enormous studio room as if he were a foal's toy. He spread his wings to slow himself, though it ultimately did little to prevent him from still smacking against the far wall, where he fell with a pained grunt.

"And here you thought you could hole up in this place 'til help came. Pity, I admire your optimism. But you should accept that we are the real help you hoped for."

The larger figure threateningly approached, with a terrified Ray stammering upright. "You shouldn't mess with us. Hell, you might not have given away your little hideout spot if you hadn't made that phone call. Big mistake, pal."

The pony's words made Ray think back to earlier, when he attempted to dial Star. It filled him with shame, knowing now he just might have gotten him and his fellow ponies killed.

***

The quad-rotored drone no bigger than a can of cola buzzed like a horsefly as it climbed beside the south face of the thirty-story office tower. In his magic's hold, Javelin Charm suspended his tablet mid air while using his hooves to carefully maneuver the tiny aircraft.

With visual aid of a movable camera attached to the front of the drone, he flew it to the eighth floor of the damaged structure, where he engaged a special mode that displayed heat signatures through solid objects. Its range of view varied depending on the unicorn's settings, and in this case, the entire building showed up as a grey three-dimensional grid with an interactive interior layout.

He tweaked the view ever so gradually, up until a cluster of oranges and reds appeared on his screen. "Gotcha," he declared, bringing a faint smile to his muzzle. "They are in there, all right. Looks like a detachment of four, five... similar weaponry and armor to what was back at the warehouse, how copy?"

"Good copy, Techie. How many innocents?" queried Snow Storm through comms, leading the rest of his squad along with myself, Ash, Silver, and Anchorage up the fire escape stairwell.

"Not easy to tell from this angle. One moment," Javelin said, making incremental changes to the drone's positioning. He grunted in disapproval when the sensor's signal dimmed the colors to faint echoes. "Seven, eight, maybe nine. One's off to the side with somepony else. Leader and a hostage, I'm thinking."

"Copy. Keep an eye on 'em, we are almost there," Snow responded.

The white pegasus pushed with caution through the eighth-floor doorway with the barrel of his gun. A gentle creaking screech emanated from the hinges as it slowly swung open, adding to our tension. He moved through, one of his corporals close behind as they checked either side of the T-shaped corridor with their rifles drawn.

"Clear left," the corporal quietly declared.

"Clear right," Snow Storm assured with equivalent volume, making a gesture with his head for the rest of us to follow.

A couple of the ceiling lights flickered on and off, most of which damaged from the quake. Apart from them, the halls leading into windowed rooms were primarily pitch black, forcing the lieutenant and his corporal to make use of their flashlight attachments.

"Techie, which way?" whispered Snow to Javelin.

"Straight down the hall as you head out of the stairwell, then the first left. Should take you to the main studio."

"Roger," the lieutenant replied. With a wave of his hoof, we proceeded the way instructed.

Attempting at making no sound was impossible, though most of the noise generated by our movements consisted of the soft rustling of gear and the clicks of Silver and Anchorage's hooves on the tile floor, and even then, it was so little clamor that the muffled voices of the hostage takers gradually increased in volume on approach.

"Be advised, we are coming up on the target," Snow addressed.

"Roger. Drone's picking up your heat signatures now. But I've got some bad news for you."

"What's up?"

"Door's right beside the hostages. They put them there for a line of sight in case of intruders. You'll have to make a new way in."

At Javelin's word, the ears of a blue earth pony perked attentively, and over his shoulder glanced the lieutenant.

"Foam, you're up. Make us a door."

Giving a firm nod, the demolitions stallion immediately went to work. He slid the bag off his back and opened it up, producing a grey rectangular pad with a couple of thin cords sticking out from within.

We observed as he unraveled the pad, connected in various spots with sets of colored wiring feeding into the explosive, with each folding section sticking upon contact with the wall. He clicked a couple of switches on the device, producing a detonator from his vest pocket, then he gestured for us to get back and prepare to breach.

Leaning against the wall, only a couple of feet from the explosive, he muttered just under his breath, "One big fuckin' hole, coming right up."

"Gents, ready yourselves. Mind the civilians," whispered Snow to the rest of us. He set his eyes back on the demolition pony. "Three... two... one..."

At the end of his count, the earth pony clenched his hoof around the trigger. Instantaneous was the resulting isolated blast that sent wood and drywall showering into the studio, kicking up a cloud of dust that blinded the assailants.

"Breach, breach, breach!" shouted Snow, rushing first into the room.

Now came the scary part. This is where everything could go south, despite my best nerve to think otherwise. Frankly, I hated being one of the last inside, though it had plenty to do with the plan. Upon first contact, two of the hostage takers went down before they even knew what hit them, followed by a third. The fourth played tricky to get, being more shrouded by the smog.

My first instinct was to move for the hostages, particularly to check on Ray. It came to my surprise when the armored unicorn emerged from the dark, having not yet noticed me, and was preparing to open fire upon the trapped innocents to botch the operation and ensure no one gets rescued.

I raised my gun, and at the pull of the trigger with a burst of three rounds driven into his plating, the stallion dropped, discharging two energized shots that vaporized the moment they struck a vertical reinforcing beam. Sparks rained, either shot leaving a pair of black burn marks that combined to form one singular scar.

In no more than fifty seconds, the threat to these ponies' lives was neutralized. Once the last shots rang out, echoing throughout the wide space, my immediate attention redirected to the hostages.

However, I stopped at the sight of the two corpses nearby. Admittedly it might have taken longer than it should have to process either of the bodies and the bloodied badges on their left breasts, and recognize that neither of them were Ray and that I was panicking myself.

Regardless, it left a poor taste in my mouth, and put even more blood on Armet Mace's hooves. On the contrary, it could have ended with more than just them being slaughtered. It may have very well been everypony. It might have been one of us, as well. But it didn't. This mission was, so far, a success for a change.

Shifting back to the civilians, my gaze quickly swept across their forms in a brisk scan for any injuries. Apart from a couple of bruises and some small cuts that appear to have been treated long prior, no one suffered anything life-threatening, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief for the rest of our team.

"Don't worry. You are safe now," I reassured. The adrenaline remained high, even for them, despite their captors now lying in their own puddles of lifeblood.

But the tension had not diminished in my case. A second gloss over the frightened auditioners and television production crew, and who I was looking for was absent. My heart sank.

"Ray!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, beginning to frantically scan the room. Doing so brought along remorse, remembering my throat's dryness at the burning that followed.

As he rose to all fours, the gold pegasus' eyes opened wide at the calling of his name. For him, it was as if time had ceased to pass. "St-Star...?"

Slowly he advanced through the clearing fog, sights ahead toward the source of my yelling. It wasn't more than a couple seconds when we met each other's stares, and ultimately we froze in place with heaving chests.

In that very moment, it is probably safe to speak on behalf of Ray as well when it felt as though everything occurring around us seemed to stop existing entirely, as if all had just come to a grinding halt. Without a second of hesitation, we rushed into each other and met with a slap of our clothing against one another, with both of our hooves wrapped firmly around the opposite.

For the first time in two days, a sense of security washed through Ray's essence. Safe, without the pervading fear of being squashed to death in a building collapse or being murdered at the hooves of Armet's hired guns.

I stopped breathing entirely. Yet, in spite of that, the feeling you get when deprived of oxygen simply never arose. Perhaps subconsciously, I was, but I genuinely doubt it. The pegasus' hold, much to my surprise, was of sufficient strength to crush my lungs, as was mine on him. For how long we refused to let go of one another, typically one or both of us should have fallen unconscious.

After what I could only guess to be two, maybe three minutes, we pulled away to look at the other while remaining close. I had so much to say to him, and I felt so stupid for neglecting him the way I did. "Ray, I-I... I'm so sorry, I thought... I figured..."

"S-shhh," he hushed, and thus I went quiet. We locked gazes finally, where my muscles instantly completely relaxed. There was just something about his eyes that calmed me, no matter what. They were like a medication that treats anxiety, albeit without the risk of addiction or the ridiculous cost.

For a short period, I staggered over words in my head as I struggled to work line out all that I wished to say. It was a lot, and it hit me that we don't have the time for an entire speech, which ultimately is what it would have become if I did take a few minutes to carefully ponder a start.

So I just began. "You... I..." and then stopped. Lovely start, Star. "Fuck..." I muttered. My struggle with articulation garnered a small laugh from the stallion.

A deep breath drew in to fill my lungs in preparation to spend it all just by merely talking. "I don't think y-you can comprehend all that you have done for me, and... it is a lot for even me to take in all at once knowing how much you have changed me as a pony.

“Time and time again I’ve fought to keep the demons at bay. Most instances, I failed. But then you come along one day, and suddenly, everything is just… better. I don't know what it is, and... frankly, I couldn't care less, but it draws me to you every time.”

The pony's emerald cores glistened in the faint light as he listened to me drone on, and the longer I went on for, the wider his smile became, and the darker red his cheeks turned.

I swallowed heavily. "You... Ray Blitz... you've given me a new outlook on life. Not just... on how I live, my routine, but how I get by each and every day. You've given me hope. The idea that everything will be okay. And, for once... I feel happy. And I understand that, realistically, we haven't spent all that much time together in the same place at once, yet I can't help but feel these things for you."

A hoof suddenly pressed to my lips, halting me. I jolted gently out of reflex, sights moving up from the arm to the warm, flustered smile on this beautiful stallion.

"Don't say any more. I don't want you to."

I blinked slowly. My legs trembled at the current rate of my heart. At any given moment I anticipated to just melt away into a liquid if that were physically possible.

"I love you," he said quietly, removing his hoof from my mouth.

"I... love you, too..." I breathed out, being the last bit of air left in me. He alone took it all away.

Then, the unexpected happened. He leaned up just slightly, melding his lips with my own. At that moment, I turned rock solid, like a statue. My irises shrunk to pinpricks, and it sounded as if I was listening to my own heartbeat with a doctor's stethoscope.

And as I predicted it, my form melted. Not into a goo, though. It was more on the lines of me leaning into him, and pressing deeper into the kiss with my limbs keeping me upright borderline limp. I closed my eyes and let it happen. And it felt twenty times better than how I once imagined it to be.

All fears washed away then. No more inhibitions. Nothing could terrify me any longer it seemed like. I tilted my head slightly, pushing more into his muzzle, as did the stallion in return.

When our kiss finally broke, the realization quickly came to the both of us that almost everypony present had turned their direct attention toward us. Actually, I couldn't care less about the others. My friends, which were standing right there? Not so much. My heart sank deep into my chest, and out of embarrassment, I shrunk down into my neck.

Right then, I wanted to curl up in a ball in the farthest, darkest corner in existence. Of all that was possible, this just had to be the one thing I'd prayed deep down would not surface. Not this soon. But it was a gentle tug on my vest that withdrew my fix and returned it to the stallion before me.

"D-do you have some water?" Ray requested meekly, using this as his own method to break the awkward moment and distract me from it.

I blinked a couple of times in silence, allotting a few seconds for my mind to shift gears. "Oh!" I said, coming to. My hoof reached around to my blue aluminum canteen clipped along the side of my jump suit vest and unhooking it. Popping the lid, I offered it to him.

A somewhat anxious smile grew on his muzzle, gently taking the bottle with a thanking nod. Minding the fact that I would need it, too, he drank no more than two swift gulps of the cool, refreshing fluid that soothed his burning throat on its way down. It was evident he wanted more, and I so desperately wished that is what I could give, but he had to understand one way or another.

Upon finishing, he returned the canteen to my hoof. We met each other's eyes once more, only to be turned away at the calling of Snow Storm from across the studio. "Hey, yo, Star!"

"I'll be right back," I said to Ray firmly, receiving a quiet nod from him. I strolled over to the lieutenant with a hint of apprehension eating at my stance. "Lieutenant?"

"We found your platoon sergeant," he started, immediately perking my ears to listen. "Your unit's among the many prepping a revolt against Armet's forces a few blocks due east of here."

At that, I grew tense again. "So what are our orders?"

"Any and all guns are needed there as soon as possible. I guess Javelin picked up on a signal ordering the drones to fight back and retain control. Problem is, we've still got plenty of civilians trapped in between, and plenty more taking refuge on the west side of the island. Many didn't receive the evacuation notice and in fact got false information because of jammers around the city, but some squadrons have reported those to be destroyed by now."

My gaze drifted to my hooves in contemplation. "So, what, we should keep moving ponies?"

Snow sternly shook his head. "Not enough time, not enough pony power to pull that off. As much as I hate to say this, it seems like we'll be dealing with a hefty load of civilian casualties if we aren't able to contain the drones."

Knowing this left a hurt in my chest. The thought of innocents being preventably killed never sat right, chiefly because our duty, the very oath we took, is to protect them and leave nopony behind. Realizing there wasn't much any of us could do about these civilians sat tough in my head. That was, until when glancing around, I stopped at a toppled television camera. For a good few moments, I fixated on it in a muse, and then it hit me.

"What if we broadcast a new warning to citizens?" I questioned, snapping back to the lieutenant.

He stood there, pondering over the idea and studying the equipment around us. Everything necessary was present to pull it off. "It could work, if there were spare electricity to go around."

Before either of us could say anything else, one of the ponies on the production crew stepped up. "I-I couldn't help but overhear what you two were talking about, and you said something about there being no power to run an alert?"

Snow gave a nod, cocking his head slightly. "Yes. Why?"

"There are a few generators in the basement. Ones that you crank. Might need a few ponies at one time to get at least one of them going, though," the earth stallion said.

Blinking, I turned to Snow, and he looked back at me with a knowing stare. "Then we will have to get right on that. But tell me, Star, how the hell will this do us any good if virtually nopony has access to a working TV?"

"If we transfer the format, it can potentially be compatible with both television and radio. Basically dividing the two signals for both to pick up on." A grin crossed my muzzle. "And I know who can do just that."

"Well, that's lovely and all, buuut..." the pony turned over his shoulder. "Firetail's hittin' the road, he ain't staying here. We gotta find somepony who can do it."

Without much of any reluctance, I glanced behind me. My ear flicked, and upon setting my sights on the golden pegasus, the smile I wore widened only more. "I have an idea of who, you just gotta trust me."

Both the Marine lieutenant and the crew member exchanged looks, only for the latter to shrug it off and get to work. I began walking back to Ray.

Pulling up short of the pegasus, I smiled at him. "Hey, so, I understand now might not be the best time for this, but... I need to ask you a favor. A big one."

The pegasus set a hoof on my shoulder gently, offering a warm smile. "After what you just did for me and for all of these ponies, I'll do anything for you. What do you need?"

For a moment, I felt my heart flutter at his touch. But my own affection for him was not important right now. "A news feed. We need to warn more ponies, get them out of harm's way. Can you do that for me?"

"Uh... sure. I think can give it a shot," he responded, sounding unsure of himself now whilst retaining a confident expression.

Good enough for me. I gave a single nod, then turned over my shoulder. "Anchorage!"

Leaping over a few of the others with the aid of his wings, the beckoned pegasus landed just short of us and strolled up. "What's up?"

"You're skilled with signals, aren't you?" I questioned.

The northern-oriented sailor gave a shrugging nod. "HAM radio, yeah. Sort of. Why?"

"Ray here will need your expertise to get him on the air to broadcast a warning to the public, but to do that, you'll have to connect to just the right frequency to put it out over radio for all to hear. Think you can handle that?" I smirked at him.

A canny, sanguine grin grew on the greyish-white pegasus' mouth, one that preceded the welcoming of a challenge. "Shouldn't be an issue, mate," he said with an affirming tip of his head.

Returning the nod, my steady gaze drifted back to Ray. In that time, worry had transformed his smile into an anxious lower.

"What are you going to do?" he questioned, ears faltering.

My hoof lifted up to his chin to raise it and meet his gorgeous emerald irides. "I have to go. Duty calls."

Letting off a shaky sigh, the gold pegasus returned a understanding nod of his head. "Stay safe out there, Star Shooter." With that, he looped a tight hoof around the back of my neck.

In that moment, all I could do was smile reassuring, stroking a lock of his soft, wheat mane. "I'm a Marine, what is safe?"

He glanced up briefly from his embrace, giving me a somewhat jabbing look that silently said I wasn't funny, leaving me wanting to retract that statement. But we both knew how right I was.

Anchorage stepped up a bit closer between without separating us. He stiffened his posture. "I'll keep him safe, mate. I promise you that."

I nodded once. "I can always count on you, Anchor," I smiled again, and the stallion amiably rolled his eyes.

With that, I turned tail and slowly headed back to Snow Storm, picking my gun up off the floor along the way. It was in reluctance when I paused at the doorway to look back at Ray as he sorrowfully watched us go, before proceeding out to move into the unknown.

Author's Note

I am sorry this took so long to get done, but here it is.

48. The Battle for Manehattan - Part I

A sudden shock of energy shot through Nightpath's system, jolting him straight up out of his cot. The pain from his injuries wasted no time in reaching his nerves, bringing a loud, wincing cry out of the large stallion.

"Gah-haagh!" he yelped, instincts forcing him to drop on his side where he gripped the portable bed's metal frame. His teeth clenched as he seethed in unrelenting pain sourcing from his lower spinal cord.

By the time his suffering ceased some three eternal minutes later, the brown draft steed had slicked himself in sweat and was heaving for air to make up for his breath being repeatedly taken away for that period of time. It finally allowed him to ease off his muscles, as well as his firm hold on the cot's side, and an opportunity to familiarize his surroundings without moving too much.

While his vision remained only slightly blurred, it was not enough to obscure his judgement of the area. The Marine's hazel cores scanned the area in front of him, covering at least a quarter of the tent he now lay in, and it left confusion in his mind knowing the last of his recollection had him being carried on his friend's shoulder to a RHIB prior to blacking out.

Before that, the bulk of his more recent memory was a blink; nothing more than a vague, indistinct picture, sparking worry in his mind that he had suffered some sort of head trauma that triggered a type of amnesia. That couldn't be the case, however, noting of the significant lack of pain stemming from his head and rather his back.

Upon further inspection of the tent, most if not all of the other cots were occupied by ponies of varying race and size. The majority of these resting ponies appeared to be civilian, judging by some of the dirty, tattered clothing on their backs, granting a better idea of just where he was, and that was a relief camp.

Though it went beyond his knowledge what day it was, how long he had been out for, among other details. He wished to find out as soon as possible, as well as other questions in mind. Is it over? Was Armet caught? But most importantly... Are my friends okay?

These muses urged Night to stir about in search of answers, despite the immobilizing pain that shackled him to this bed. The dark brown draft lay motionless, barring the soft yet sharpened breaths he drew in and the light tremble that quaked his limbs. He hoped and prayed at any moment that someone nearby caught on to his cries and would rush in to feed his veins with a dose of powerful painkiller that would put him back to sleep for a day or two more, just so he would not have to fight against his own body desperate to move.

Lo and behold, a nearby medic tending to temblor victims outside the tent heard his wails as he woke, quickly working to finish what he was doing and hurry inside to check on his patient. It calmed him only a little to discover Night hadn't fallen out of his cot or deteriorated his condition in any other way.

The pegasus corpspony strolled up beside the wounded Marine's bed, first checking the bandages along the center of his back before moving on to his front, producing a little flashlight.

"Hey there. Would you mind opening your mouth for me for a second?" he requested calmly.

Opening his eyes to look up at the lavender pegasus, Night parted his maw.

"Wider..." the medic demanded softly, shining his light in as the earth stallion further gaped. A small frown pursed his lips, flicking off the light, which prompted Night to close his mouth.

Tucking the flashlight in a pocket, the corpspony trotted around and to a small table stacked with a collection of portable plastic coolers. He popped open the lid, drawing a sack filled with a cool, clear fluid, as well as a thin tube with a needle on one end. Returning to Night, he began to set up by hanging the bag on a stand behind the stallion occupied by a half-empty sack feeding into another patient.

"You are severely dehydrated, and we are low on IV bags, but you could make use of one right now," said the pegasus, hooking the tube to the bag and preparing the needle. On any normal occasion, he would have cleaned the entry point with alcohol. The only exception was today, where none was readily available. Hesitantly, he took Night's hoof and carefully inserted the tiny needle.

The pinch as it went in did not nearly compare to the stabbing aches along his spine, yet it still jolted him as if utterly unexpected. Within moments, however, he felt a cool sensation course through his veins from the needle as the bag steadily dispensed its contents into his system.

The feeling was strangely soothing, particularly against the miserable summer heat and humidity that collected inside the tent. Soon after, he felt strangely dizzy, but in a drowsy kind of manner. Slowly, he closed his eyes as he began to drift back off to sleep.

***

In total silence the second lieutenant sat, once more finding himself boxed inside a padded cell with only the prominent hum of the lights above permeating the quiet. It didn't take a lot to convince military police at base to subdue him, though they also had not initially recognized him based on appearance. In fact, they found it rather peculiar for Arc to turn himself in after essentially vanishing off the face of the earth since March, and it was long past his appointed confinement sentence by the Court.

Regardless, the threats he passively warned of sprung four peacekeepers into action in arresting him on sight. He resisted none, just like before, allowing them to bring him away from the central relief camp set up on base and the hundreds of victims occupying it. Once more, the officers found his lack of hostility in spite of advisories expressed aloud. They soon came to figure the truth as it was, and it was him playing out himself as a danger to the public in desperate need of restraint.

For some time he contemplated all the harm he has instigated while under the mainframe's influence. Not often did he stumble across self emotional pain in his battle-hardened attitude, though this was one large exception. It was enough to provoke grisly thoughts he wished would occur for him and no one else. These muses lingered for a few years now, and only in these recent hours have they protruded more than ever. For what he has precipitated to countless innocent lives over the course of an unknown amount of weeks or even months, he felt as though he deserved the most unspeakable punishment fathomable. But he knew his captor warranted it much more.

A faint tingle in Arc's punctured temple twitched his eye once, then twice, and was subsequently followed by a light migraine that steadily increased in its intensity. For a time, he endured the ache as if it were any other. That was, until it prolonged to the point where he grabbed his forehead with a hoof. He now felt it coming, and instinctively braced himself.

All at once, an endless, light-speed electronic stream of ones and zeroes transmitted through the helmet's receptors into the second lieutenant, overloading his mind in mere moments. The eerie, sinister digital voice called his name, drowning out the repeated no's Arc aggressively responded with. He opened his eyes to see his own hoof betray him, removing itself slowly from the hold on his head. Gradually, he felt his own conscience be once more torn from him.

The pained grunts and cries of the officer attracted the attention of the guard stationed outside his cell, prompting him to slide open the peephole to check inside, and what he saw met him with a fear that would forever haunt his essence. In the pitch black that should have been a brightly-lit confinement room glowed a furious pair of amethyst cores, glaring directly into the lime of his own.

The frightened lance corporal drew three fearful strides back from the door when it blasted open, forcing him into the opposite wall with the heavy door crushing him against it before falling over. Dazed by the blow, the lilac earth stallion just barely managed to catch himself with ringing ears and doubled vision as he stared utterly confused at his cover laying on its top a foot ahead of him.

Before he could do anything else, a pair of armored hooves wrapped firmly around his neck from behind. The Marine's eyes shot wide open, reflexively punching at the plated limbs in attempt to pry himself free. He choked softly, lifting his fear-filled gaze to meet his assailant's in a silent beg for mercy.

However, clemency was the last thing on Arc's twisted, altered mind. Staring down coldly, the flickering of the cell's broken light briefly illuminating his shape only added to the fear in the enlisted pony's core.

With a voice that was not his own, he said with a low, ghastly timbre, "Go to sleep, now." With a swift jerk of his arms, and a fleshy crack of the lance corporal's neck, the stallion instantly went limp in his hold.

He released his grip, dropping the still-warm corpse with a heavy thump. On the floor beside the lifeless form clattered his issued rifle, which Arc snatched up and started his path for the exit. Anyone or anything in his way, he planned to show no remorse for.

***

From the studio to the lobby, it took us not even half the time going up, and upon regrouping with Zjitzo, his squad, and Javelin in the plaza, we hastily made our way east.

Very small and organized groups of civilians headed the other direction, guided by a few in our pack as we proceeded past. Our word was not much, though it would hopefully land them in the right place at one of many evac points along the riverfront.

As distance to rendezvous closed, the more apparent it became of friendly presence in the area. It wasn't long before disabled or totally destroyed robotic figures littered intersections and city blocks leading up to the point. Yet despite the signs of tables turning in our favor, there still was no clear way to determine just how much progress was made against the onslaught.

Upon reaching the temporary operating base in Lower Manehattan, it was a sight for sore eyes. On top of what had to be at least three hundred Marines, some units just arriving as we were, barricades of sandbags lined a three-foot wall a couple yards from some battlefield tents constructed with wooden stands no more than a couple inches wide and topped off with nets weaved with moss and leaves. Under these small shelters worked the technical ponies, spreading word through copious radio channels in attempt to muster as many guns as possible to this location.

The area in which operations had planted its temporary roots consisted of more modern architecture all around, barring the few older brick and stone structures that had risen to become Manehattan's early skyline some centuries ago. However, it wasn't solely what materials the buildings consisted of that determined their age, but the damage sustained. Most of which were partially caved in on themselves or had entire faces missing, exposing the crumbling bare interior hallways and rooms.

Some of the devastation was subsequent to the collapse of Trotterdam Tower, which now only existed as half of a building with its southern face sticking higher than its opposite, due to the much heavier, upper portion of the skyscraper practically sliding down cleanly before tilting over and crashing down on the streets below. Some chunks of the once-magnificent golden equine head that topped it off lay strewn across the south end of this plaza, exposing the spiderweb of rebar that held it together for as long as it had existed.

Where we stood, even though it would not cast a shadow due to relative positioning and the sun's daily movements, would typically dwarf the wall of high rises that surround this open area. Only one tower—the tallest and most modernly-designed in this particular plaza, complete with a massive digital screen that covered about seven floors and sat another five above ground level and spanned almost the width of the building—now took the throne for the highest point in the Financial District and second in the entire city only to GenTech Tower.

In spite of the discord, every squadron appeared, for the most part, well-organized. Because of this, locating my respective unit wasn't as difficult as previously thought. Divisions were tidily arranged with three duos of machine gunners on the north and south ends of the curved line as well as the middle, backed by grenadiers, and several basic infantry. With the near-semicircle shape of the barrier, each pony respectively occupied a position to concentrate fire on three small streets—the only currently-accessible directions any attackers could originate from.

My unit, the 25th Battalion, 4th Marines, consisted primarily of rifleponies on the north end of this blockade, which would be come to known as Homefront—an oddly fitting callsign. Apart from myself, only Nightpath appeared to be absent from the bunch, and everypony seemed to be equally scuffed up from a prior fight. Compared to others I've seen thus far, no one could have been in better condition.

"Sergeant!" I called out, in hopes of grabbing his immediate attention on my way to him.

The blackish-blue pegasus' sky blue gaze drifted just enough, and instantly locked with crimson when he spotted me. "Dearest Princess Luna, it's him!" I heard him say, directing the looks of a couple others with him toward me. "Where on earth have you been?!"

"Sorry, Sergeant. Took a little detour in the West by accident," I rejoined, throwing up a respectful salute as part of greeting.

That left him only a slight bit puzzled, but he went no further to question it and waved off the gesture.

"Well, it's great to have you back! What in the hell are you wearing, Corporal?" he queried, his direct fix lowering to my jump suit.

My sights instinctively darted downward, then back up to the sergeant. "Bit of a long story, sir," I responded, keeping it short and vague. Likelihood was he didn't have the capacity to care about the why right now.

"I expect you to tell me every little detail later tonight, Corporal," he sternly said, albeit in a slightly cordial manner, having to raise his voice as a helo flew close overhead. "Eighteen page presentation, you hear me?!"

Now I knew he was joking. At least, I could only pray he was. "Affirmative, Sergeant!"

He gave a single nod. "Excellent. And where in the fuck is your roomie? Haven't seen him all damn day!"

I flicked a very brief look at Ashfall as he caught up with his own unit nearby. "Back at base, wounded in the quake, I'm afraid."

Hardstaff let off a low grunt of annoyance at that. "Fucking..." Then he sighed sharply. "All right. We can compensate for him. I'll beat his ass later for being too much of a pussy, but we will suffice."

I returned an affirming nod. Good old Hardstaff, never change. "Yes, we will, Sergeant. What do we know right now?"

In between wiping down his M16, complete with a grip and small scope attachments, he replied without so much as looking back up at me once. "Other than a full-scale invasion? Hell if I know. But right here is where we initiate our retaliatory attacks and hopefully push these metal assholes back wherever they came from. I trust you'll make good use of your rank today, Shooter."

After he finished, it was evident I knew a little more than he did about the situation. Only a little; not enough to make any difference, though. Word had already gone out that informed how to disable the larger drones, and even if the sergeant wasn't aware, it was extremely unlikely that everypony else isn't, either.

Strangely though, it relieved me moderately to see his face and hear his voice in person once more—him and everypony else in the 25th. All eleven others total; three unicorns, three earth ponies and a zebra mix, and four pegasi. Perhaps it was because, just a few days prior, I had been plagued with the belief that I would never see them again, and only the images of reminisces from when all of us last sat or stood in one place would stick with me until my captors would eventually determine to put me down.

In the tension that would soon be a final offensive, one that decides our victory or defeat, to be back fighting alongside those I trained with and those I befriended was nothing but bittersweet and empowering. It was this that, I pray, will drive our strength to take back our city and avert further catastrophe.

I glanced over my shoulder to my other group. Snow Storm and Zjitzo, as well as their squad mates, pulled off to the side to debating battle plans. Silver Edge, I noted, tuned in but had distance between himself and them. Being the only sailor in sight, he seemed so terribly out of place, and I could see that in his posture. He didn't know what to do. He doesn't have orders to take. Just because of his chosen branch, he wasn't bound to leave the battlefield. No, he was here for the fight.

Slinging the SCAR over my shoulder, my short jaunt brought me alongside the aimless seapony to have a quick word with him. I placed a hoof on his back, startling him just slightly in the process due to his focus on the captain and lieutenant discussing. He proceeded to smile off his jumpiness.

"Why don't you come back to your former grounds for a bit? We could use the extra muscle, I think," I offered.

Silver blinked twice, staring neutrally at me. "I'm not that muscular."

I rolled my eyes. "Your magic and precision, then. Come on, Sergeant's over here," I motioned my head, turning back toward my squadron.

Judging by how little reluctance he had in following close behind, it's safe to assume he had no issue with it. He might as well. After all, he did spend some time integrated into the wrong branch by mistake.

"Good afternoon, sir," Silver began, tipping his chin as we walked up. "Mind if I join you?"

Hardstaff's signature scowl grazed over the blues and greys of Silver's blouse. "Now, what is this shit doin' around my Marines? I don't recall ordering for an admiral's cuddle-buddy today!" He then snapped his attention to Lance Corporal Ivory, who instinctively clicked his hooves together. "Tell me if I'm wrong, do they let the dick cleaners off the tubs to fight?"

The pine-green earth stallion, still at attention, took a couple of moments to muster a response that Hardstaff would rather hear. "Hell no, Sergeant!"

At that, Silver almost looked affronted. Almost. Though he knew the sergeant too well after spending a year under his command to take any real offense. Otherwise, he might have rejoined with either something half-witty, or something extremely embarrassing against himself. Regarding these two, likelihood is Hardstaff would be laughing over it among other ponies of his rank for weeks to come.

Instead, he simply took the greeting with a grain of salt. "Thought I'd throw back to the glory days, Sergeant."

"Damn right you would, Petty Officer," he nodded in acknowledgement of the unicorn's new rank. "You know damn well we are the better branch of the bunch. Get yourself a gun at the supply tent and ready up on me."

"Aye, sir," Silver responded, throwing up a respective salute with a stupid-happy smirk pursing his lips, turning tail to find where he needed to go.

"Just like old times, eh, Silver?" I nudged him with a slight grin as he passed by.

The beige unicorn returned a firm nod. "Just like old times, Star."

Upon his return, Silver had made the wise selection of an M16—then again, that seemed to be the weapon of choice among most present with the few exceptions of the belt-fed machine gunners, Ashfall, and myself.

He wasted no time in readying his gun, along with his sidearm; a Glock 19M in slick steel grey. By the time he finished, the final defense touches along Homefront were completed. Short-range artillery raised their thin, long barrels in preparation with a surplus of shells piled up beside the two available cannons. I imagine it will be those that deal the most damage in this fight.

As we stood by for orders, a deep, loud voice addressed to all, prompting every soul to stop what they were doing to tune in. "Atten-tion!" All eyes turned toward a single stallion, stood atop a short tower of crates to rise above the others. It was Shadow, for whatever reason he was down here on the front lines for. "Everypony, this is a message broadcasting across all open frequencies! Listen up!"

Shortly after his conclusion, at the command of the captain's silent gesture, technical officers in the logistics tent twisted dials on their radios to full volume for every ear.

"Ponies of Manehattan... citizens of Equestria. I reach out to you with a dire message. This goes out to call who can hear the sound of my voice, and any in the region ready and able to help."

As the golden pegasus began, more around hushed to listen in as his voice carried out through earpieces and radio speakers from tents. From where I stood, the highest volume didn't have much range, though I had no trouble hearing it. That is just how quiet the air became for the first time in days.

"This is a dark time for us all. For most of you, this may give the appearance of a highly advanced terrorist hacker assault, or a second invasion recalling to the attacks back in December. But I am among a small few that know the truth." Then came a short silence as he gathered his thoughts.

"The pony vowing to protect your lives, the one who has put an exorbitant amount into retaining this city's security, is also the very same behind this seemingly endless onslaught of death and destruction. Armet Mace... GenTech... are now who we thought they were, and so, they are not our ally any longer."

Countless looks exchanged among Marines, many of which of shock, but also a newfound anger burning in their essences. With each passing second, and every word spoken, their seething fury contained behind a paper-thin pane that was their well-trained demeanor.

"I speak out to you all this afternoon in hopes of averting further catastrophe, and providing some sense of security with my own fears presently disregarded. I have put every ounce of trust in me into our saviors in grey and blue, and those that lead them toward the chaos while we flee from it. I trust that they will lead us to victory and win this frightening battle."

A smile gradually worked its way across my muzzle, one that if pointed out, I wouldn't think to blush. Rather, my chest warmed not only to the sound of his voice, but what it addressed. With it, I felt a strength gather in my soul to mend the pain that was my present stress in the moment. It wasn't physical, but damn well could have been. No, it was. It can't have been anything else.

"Together, we must work together to ensure more lives are not lost today, and we will push through. I beg of you, all of you, leave town at once. Any pony you are with, get out. It is not safe within a ten mile radius of the city, not even within designated shelters. GenTech's army of robots is threatening not only our way of life as we know it, but our existence as free ponies.

"But we will not submit. We won't bow at his hooves. He is not our leader, and we are not his puppets. So I leave you with two options. Either run far... or stay and fight. Good luck to you all."

It didn't show initially, and I hoped deep down that it wouldn't, the fresh glaze over my eyes and the thin collection of tears along the bottom of them. "That's my coltfriend," I muttered under my breath, blinking rapidly a few times to waver off the water. All I could wish for then was that he makes effort to get to safety following the end of his broadcast.

"All right, you heard the pony!" shouted Hardstaff, loud and proud. With his rifle pointed skyward, he began to nonchalantly stroll behind. Our immediate attention transferred to him as he did. "The plan is, with all of the unicorns we have, we are going to use them to lure the enemy straight to us. It will be a heavy ambush."

"We are going to fight. We are going to fight our hardest, and we are going to retake our beloved city from these titanium bastards!"

Halting halfway, he turned to face us, as we did in return to him. "Oo-rah?!"

In response to the sergeant, all but one of us cried in unison. That one pony was me. "Oo-rah!"

I took a step forth, putting myself just out of the line. Hardstaff noticed this and advanced toward me, and I ensured to keep my voice low between us two.

"What'll happen to these unicorns, Sergeant? Those things will suck the energy right out of them before they have a chance to run. Are we sure that is the best idea?"

The dark pegasus nodded in acknowledgement of my query, almost looking happy that I asked. "That is why we planned ahead and will equip each unicorn's horn with dampening rings with the exception of a few medics who absolutely need it to treat any wounds they come across. They can only withdraw the energy through their horns, and with the rings blocking any type of use, it will confuse the bots. At least, the bigger ones. Can't say about the rest."

His explanation calmed my nerves a bit, enough to worry less about Silver's well-being, as well as the other unicorns among the 25th. "Every unicorn will be issued one?"

"Affirmative," the sergeant responded, digging into a vest pocket with a hoof. "Because, even with rings, unicorns still give off a faint field of their energy. Just enough to trigger their sensors and draw them to this location. As long as nopony removes theirs to use magic in combat, they should be safe from the collectors."

He produced his gloved hoof, in it resting a small, centimeter-thick ring with a stainless steel finish in the unlocked position. The pegasus flicked it upward like a coin, prompting me to act fast in order to catch it. I stumbled back a little, but managed to cup my hooves quick enough to grab it, then slam a forehoof into the cement to retain balance.

"Fit that on Silver. Make sure it clips comfortably on but not to where it'll slide right off," Hardstaff instructed, turning tail and strolling over to a first sergeant belonging to the next squad to our left.

Briefly examining the band and the tiny mechanism that parts the two half-rings and the little lock that would connect the open end, my fix adjusted to the sole sailor among a sea of Marines. "Hey, Silver?"

At the mention of his name, the beige unicorn peeked over his shoulder, turning his body to face me directly. "What's up?"

"I hope you didn't have many plans to make use of those abilities of yours," I said with a bit of a sheepish smile, raising the base of my hoof to show him the ring.

Silver's bright magenta cores lowered to the metallic piece, then raised to meet the crimson of my own eyes with some concern in his. "I think it would have helped."

I shook my head firmly. "Orders are orders. You risk one of those things grabbing you while they practically zap you of your magic without it."

A small sigh escaped the unicorn's lips. "Then I guess it'd be best to wear it, then," he admitted, lowering his head for me.

There was a bit of hesitance in my stride toward him, pulling up just a few inches short. If the danger wasn't prevalent, I would have personally protested against the restraint of magic use. Hell, Silver threw a pony through multiple reinforced bulkheads on a ship like they had a consistency of butter. What could he do to a few robots?

My hoof brought the ring up underneath, sliding the angled half-band as far down as the width of his horn allowed before securing it with a soft click.

Stepping back, I observed as Silver raised his head, eyes lifted to try and fixate on his own horn as he made a feeble attempt to cast a spell. Only along the base of his horn leading up to the ring itself did it emit a thin reddish hue, before the magic itself popped like a balloon and dispersed into brief sparkles. I suppose that is a sign that the ring's enchantment works.

"How the hell am I going to get this off?" he questioned, still eyeballing his horn.

"My guess is, either a key of some sort, or another unicorn has to do it." Those were the only reasonable answers I could think of.

"I hope so." Silver then looked forward at me, but suddenly groaned and brought a hoof to his forehead, gently rubbing it. "Damn, testing it gave me a headache."

I blinked, cocking my head. "You need a medic, buddy?"

He gave a shake in response. "No, no, I'll live. It's insignificant."

At that, I nodded in acknowledgement. "All right. Just let me know if you need something. If I have to pull you back when things get rough, shout."

"Got it," he groaned out softly, lowering his hoof. Almost the precise moment his hoof touched the ground, a quiet rumble quaked the cement. Thankfully, I could tell in advance that this wasn't an aftershock, though I think I would have preferred it to be.

The ground's gentle rolling combined only took six seconds to attract every Marine's attention to the west. Within those moments, the whole of Homefront went eerily silent, and only the reverberation of the battle to come resounded off of surrounding skyscrapers, rattling what windows remain untouched on them. As mild as the noise was, it managed to drown out the rotors of a nearby helo.

"Homefront, be advised, numerous hostile bogeys moving your direction. ETA, eighty seconds," was the message that came through, providing some forewarning in a moderately ominous manner.

"Here they come, gentlecolts. Get ready!" barked Hardstaff, slipping into his own little slot around the middle of our group. Many other squad leaders ordered similarly, varying in volume the further away they were.

The worst part of it was the anticipation. It wasn't clear what to expect other than to potentially be outnumbered still, in spite of the hefty amount of firepower we had in return. All I know is the tension permeated the air like a horrid stench of a back alley sewer drain.

Logically, we would expect the smaller, pony-sized, heavy-weaponry droids to appear first, being significantly quicker and more agile than the collector drones. And that is exactly how it played out.

Accordingly, at least nine raced around the corner initially to pave the way for those behind them. The group halted thirty yards short, recalibrating themselves into a neat, single-file shoulder-to-shoulder line.

Almost in perfect synchronization, panels on either side of each drone folded inward, replaced subsequently by short limbs with cube-shaped objects on their ends. These cubes very quickly opened up, building upon themselves to take the appearance of miniguns with the belts feeding back through the holes they extended from.

"Shields up!" commanded an authoritative voice further down. At his word, a series of interconnected devices sprung to life.

Within seconds, they projected a paper-thin forcefield, bluish in color and transparent enough to see clearly through with little obstruction, climbing eight feet vertically and extending end to end along Homefront to compensate for the lack of unicorn magic.

The shields themselves were one-way so as to protect us while allowing shots from our side to pass through without harming the barrier's overall integrity. However, it was presently unknown just how much they would be able to take. After all, the generators had not yet been perfected.

Upon completion, a wave of opaque blue spread downward, swiping across the surface of the shields; a sign that full strength had been attained—and with perfect timing, too. While faint due to distance, the unified whir of eighteen minigun barrels beginning to rapidly rotate carried out across the plaza. Despite the extra layer of defense, many braced themselves or even ducked out of instinct, half expecting the shields to offer little actual protection when the storm of bullets first unleashed.

As each gatling barrel began spitting anywhere between seven-hundred and one thousand rounds per second, the shields' power instantaneously dropped to just above fifty percent, but held steady there. Signs of such were notable when the physical appearance faltered in color, though no rounds managed to make it past and simply vaporized upon impact. As long as the forcefield power remains above twenty percent, the risk of bullets breaking through and injuring somepony were little to none, much to our relief.

No more than a moment later, gunfire erupted from the barrels of each Marine's rifle and belt-fed machine guns, roaring like heaven's thunder across the whole of Lower Manehattan. For miles it could be heard, rumbling the earth with the power of every round fired. It sounded an explicit warning to any other enemy who might hone in on our city that we are not to trifle with. Though, quite clearly, our overall firepower—rifles, sidearms, and machine guns combined, contrasted none to that of the eighteen gatling guns unleashing total hell. That didn't count however many more were on the way behind this leading cluster.

With such limited remaining magazines of my own, it forced me to reserve my shots and switch to single burst mode. Frankly, compared to the majority of my squad mates, my efforts seemed extremely trivial for the time being. Another reason was this initial engagement merely scratching the surface of the storm to come. If I had to equate it to something, it would have been an April rain shower preceding a category five hurricane. These were not the droids to spend ammunition on all at once.

Like the beam of a cat's laser pointer, streaks of orange by the dozens extended forward from barrel after barrel, either making contact with the chests, legs, or heads of the steel-clad, mechanical Juggernauts, or just narrowly whisking past and riddled walls with countless chips or holes in the concrete and blew windows inward. The sound was absolutely deafening, as well. It wouldn't be a shock if I have hearing problems later in life, or even at the end of the day if this prolongs to the last fired round.

The machine gunners did most of the work with nearly spot-on accuracy, despite the distance even as it gradually closed. Two of the nine shut down and collapsed after roughly thirty rounds to the chest area, with another becoming heavily damaged in a resulting power core meltdown leading to an explosion that sent bits and pieces flying every which way. Six less miniguns firing upon the forcefield allowed it some leeway to regain a few percent of its total strength.

After all of that, all it took was one blast of a ray gun to bring down defensive shields, leaving dozens vulnerable.

Something frightening, however, caught in the corner of Ash's line of vision. Darting his gaze to the right, his light-reddish cores contracted at the sight; a small filly, who could not have been older than the age of six, emerging from the shadows of an alleyway and frozen in fear by the war unfolding before her very eyes.

The moss stallion's attention swiftly redirected to a new set of Juggernaut and Collector droids marching in from another street much closer to the trapped foal. Then he turned to a group of demolitions Marines loading impact grenades into launchers in preparation to lob at the oncoming titan mechs. He lowered his gun, heart pumping as his decision alternated and argued back and forth within his mind.

Ash's decision was tough, especially in the short time given. It compelled him to recall to the ferry; the reporter and his camerapony he forced on board, only to perish moments later. He wasn't about to let it come full circle. At the top of his lungs, he shouted to the grenadiers, "Hold on! Hold your fire! There's a foal!"

Their eyes, some of which behind the veil of sleekly-designed sunglasses, snapped over to the infantrypony and promptly halting them before any grenades could be fired. In protest, Sunset Haze retorted to the corporal. "We don't have fucking time! It's now or never!"

Time abruptly came to a screeching halt around the moss stallion, his fix dashing between the wave of drones and the frightened child. At that range, if a grenade were to bounce harmlessly off, it could roll dangerously close to the oblivious foal or cause debris to fall on her. Split-secondly, Ash made up his mind and withdrew from his gun. “I’m going to grab her!” he yelled, not taking a moment more before rushing out into the open.

Out of the corner of my sights, I noticed the movement of somepony leaping over the sandbags and dart in front. Thankfully everypony's perception was high enough to notice him and avert a case of friendly fire. Momentarily did I flick a glance at the figure, when my blood ran cold upon realization.

One eye watching over him, the other focusing on the pushing enemy, I turned back and yelled, “Cover the corporal!”

As fast as his hooves could move, Ash raced to the cowering filly. She backstepped a few paces as the large stallion quickly neared, taking refuge behind a small dumpster.

"Hey, hey... it's okay. I'm here to help you," he said, making use of a calm tone for the first time in, admittedly, over a week, doing so in hopes of easing the poor foal's nerves enough to trust him.

Dust coated her fur from head to hoof, barring a few cleaner spots on her cheeks from a recurring stream of tears. Her lilac cores themselves were bloodshot and dry from prolonged crying, and the thin glaze across them was notably less-than-average for tear production.

For the most part, she also seemed unharmed, barring a few minor cuts and scrapes on her hooves that were long dried of blood. However, risk of infection was through the roof, Ash recognized. He reached out a gentle hoof to her, putting on a warm smile to show his friendliness. "Where are your parents?"

"I-I don't know... I was with them, and th-then... there was this brown cloud. Ponies trampled over me, and I couldn't find them, I-I couldn't see. Then I saw the big metal pony come, and... I-I ran away," she squeaked out with a shaky, weak voice.

Hearing her cracking, frightened voice broke the moss earth stallion's heart more than he would willingly admit. Raising a hoof to her cheek, he wiped away a tear before it could fall. "All right. Don't worry, I'll help you find your parents, but you'll have to listen to me. You and I, we're going to run. Run as fast as we can, and I'll get you to safety."

The filly gasped, shaking her head rapidly. "N-no!" she protested, backing behind the dumpster and lightly hyperventilating.

"Shh, shh. We're going to run, it'll be just fine. Listen, listen, I'll protect you no matter what. And listen closely, if you see me fall or stop, you keep running. Run as fast as you can to that wall over there, with or without me."

Just narrowly peeking around the corner, she stared quietly up at this haloless guardian angel. She was heavily reluctant to run out into the open, knowing already just how treacherous the short journey would be. But it was her only hope of reuniting with her family. "O-okay."

Ash nodded once, offering his hoof out to her. She took it gently, hers immensely dwarfed by the stallion's, then lifted her gaze to meet his. "Ready?" he checked, garnering a half-nod from the filly. "On my count. Three... two... one!"

The Marine swiftly yanked the filly up, bringing her onto his back. She let out a screech of terror, expecting quite the opposite. As he ran out of the alleyway, she clung to the back of his neck and buried her face into Ash's shortened walnut-brown mane.

He hadn't informed anypony to keep an eye out for his signal, though him running out into the open back to Homefront was as good of an indication as any other, especially with how close the enemy was coming.

"Now! Now! Light them the fuck up!" barked Sunset Haze over his shoulder, and the roar of fire recommenced from his squadron.

"Weapons free, Marines!" ordered Hardstaff afterward, once Ash was clear of any friendly fire danger.

By now, dozens more of the Juggernaut drones have flooded into the plaza, backed by three Collectors from the southwest and two more from the north. Because of our unified hostility, they focused primarily on us rather than Ash and the filly, allowing them to reach safety unscathed.

With the enemy's reinforcements, however, this granted them more of an advantage. Now the five Collectors were firing off singular shots of deadly concentrated gamma in attempt to bring down our last line of defense. It dealt decent damage, particularly to the power source, and it didn't take long for the safeguards' circuits to fry simply due to how much combined fire they were taking.

One right after another, despite now being unprotected to vaporizing shots, demolitions began chucking grenade on grenade from their respective launchers. A couple aimed lower toward the legs, others just high enough to where each explosive fired detonated upon impact. To our dismay, it dealt little to no damage apart from crippling a couple limbs and slowing their already gradual advance on us.

Every couple of minutes, a small squadron of jets deployed from an air base some three hundred miles south would engage in quick strafing runs, only able to shoot off one to two missiles at a time before having to break in order to dodge buildings at such low altitude to achieve such successful attacks, not to mention locks initiated by air defense mechanisms on the drones that would result in flares or chaffs being deployed.

The missiles did prove to be more effective than what everypony on the ground combined was doing, though only slightly so, and it took two to three runs just to bring one single Collector to self destruction.

However, as soon as Ash cleared the barricade with the filly and the shields fell, one stray energized shot caught the shoulder of an earth pony in the unit beside ours. He went down in a cry of agony, his plates sizzling away around the source as the heat diminished.

Snapping his attention momentarily to the downed pony, Hardstaff immediately dashed up at me. "Shooter, get 'im!"

Without hesitating to his command, I laid down my SCAR where I stood and rushed the eight feet to the ailing Marine, taking him by the shoulder straps of his vest and dragging him back from the line for somepony else to take his place.

Once a safe distance away, I set him flat on the ground and immediately moved to treat the wound with the little expertise I had on doing so. One of the first things I noticed upon changing position to his side was the red cross emblem on his shoulder, indicating his role as a corpspony. It is ironic, I must say, to be the one treating the medic of his own injuries.

With that also meant he already had the tools necessary on him. Hastily I checked a few of the small satchels along the side of his belt and managing to produce a little red package with a button clip to secure its contents. Carefully I dumped the items out beside us, revealing a roll of bandages, medical tape, and three clear syrettes of morphine.

I took one of the tiny packets in a hoof and examined it for a good couple of moments, recalling back to the last time I had seen one of these. Every second I spent was another second this Marine might not have. Damn it, why me of all ponies?

But then it came to me. Blinking in sudden realization, I removed the needle's plastic cap and moved down to the corpspony's hind leg and lifted the sleeve of his pants to swiftly insert the syrette. Compared to the pain in his shoulder that I could only imagine was absolutely excruciating, he probably didn't feel me practically stab him with the needle and begin to carefully squeeze out its contents into his blood.

The morphine's effects didn't take long to kick in, and it seemed he could finally breathe again after no more than twenty seconds. In that time, I had thrown the spent syrette aside and started parting some of his layers to better access the severely-bleeding laceration.

I no longer minded all of the blood now covering my hooves applying some amount of pressure to the wound, which brought pained grunts out of him as compared to what would have been cries as if I was torturing the poor stallion. Based on the injury's outward appearance, being roughly two and three-quarters of an inch across, signs of a physical bullet embedded in his flesh either flew right over my head from lack of knowledge, or it was pure dispersing energy and he would not have to deal with removal surgery later on.

Quickly removing my hooves, I took the roll of bandages and ripped its side open to begin unraveling enough to cover the wound. One strand wasn't wide enough, meaning at least two layers sideways, and an extra vertically to secure them down, along with tape along the edges while ensuring they would apply a constant weight to help with stopping the bleeding, or at least slow it enough to keep him alive until somepony else can take the reins from here on out. That is, assuming those trained for instances like these weren't already preoccupied with other injuries elsewhere.

"You gentlecolts look like you could use another gun!" rejoined a familiar greenish-grey stallion from behind me, squeezing up beside Hardstaff and Storm Lancer, armed with a basic M4 and a sidearm holstered on his belt and a standard black helmet atop his crown.

Glancing over his shoulder at the new addition, the sergeant gave a sideways gesture of his head as he refocused on the task, shouting over his own gun's fire, "The more, the merrier, Captain!"

Without personally acknowledging the naval officer's assistance, I kept by the earth stallion's side while help still had not come. Every few seconds I would find myself peeking over my shoulder, both to see if somepony was making their way to me and the downed Marine and to check our defense's progress. Each time, it didn't look too hot. A quarter of all present took pause to reload, leaving a narrow window of opportunity for the enemies to take advantage of.

As he reengaged back at his MG, Ashfall ducked out of reflex as a sizzling burst zipped past his ear, briefly burning the ends of his hairs on them and leaving a pinkish mark in its wake. "Fuck! Damn it!" he cursed, keeping his head down. "They just keep coming!"

"We can't keep holding them like this forever, we'll run out of ammo before we cut through half of them. Something's gotta give, or we ain't winning this!" grunted Sunset Haze, cocking his rifle after a swift change of magazines.

Hearing this from Ash's platoon sergeant himself ran a chill up my spine. Not a huge one, but enough to make my coat stand on end, even beneath the gear I wore. I didn't want to believe it, though defeat seemed inevitable. Taking one look at the ground revealed hooves an inch or two deep in shells of spent machine gun rounds. Frankly, one wouldn't know there was concrete under that if they weren't here before the battle began.

Then, one smart voice chimed in, and somehow I could hear it over the war occurring around me. "Armet has to be deploying them through an extremely strong signal of some kind, they do not appear to be remotely controlled," suggested Javelin.

Puzzled by his remark, Snow Storm turned to him. "Where the hell could he possibly relay such a signal? Electricity's down for miles, none of the towers around here are operational."

Mere eavesdropping prompted me to silently join the debate while simultaneously watching over the wounded corpspony. "Come on, think..." went my conscience, and my gaze lifted, fixating on a particular building some ten blocks from here that cast a shadow across the rest. After what could have very well been a full minute of blindly staring, it came to me.

"There! He's using the antennas on top of his own damn building, of course!" I shouted, turning the heads of Snow and Javelin toward me, then up to the massive tower.

"That can't be, I cut the generators when Night and I were there!" yelled Ash, ducking behind cover as a steady stream of minigun rounds concentrated over his head.

"It's GenTech we are talking about here, most of their vital infrastructure is self-sustaining," grunted Zjitzo as he approached from the side, keeping his head down as well to avoid being an easy target.

"So then we take it down, great! Get on it!" replied Hardstaff, briefly throwing his head over his shoulder before refocusing on the approaching drones.

"We can't bring it down from here," said the lieutenant's demolitions pony, Foam, having personally checked over every ounce of explosive matter available. "The few launchers we have laying around won't nearly cut it. Barely enough range, and we can't move closer to the tower."

"What about our birds in the air?" I questioned in addition.

The blue earth stallion shook his head. "Not adequate. We need a big explosion, enough to wipe that entire roof clean."

"The Lacus is anchored about six nautical miles offshore with plenty of firepower to go around and no orders to follow. We get through to them, we just might be able to win this!" called Shadow between bursts of fire.

"On it!" replied Silver. Out of pure instinct, he scrambled toward an open-air logistics tent behind the front lines, containing a small yet vital communications station for Homefront. "Get me the Lacus, on the double!" he barked as he ran in.

Wasting no time getting to work, the comms officer frantically switched between frequencies, spending no more than twenty seconds to land on the ship's open channel. Once secured, he exchanged his headset to the beige sailor.

"You know the correct terminology?" the officer questioned with a brow raised, garnering an unsure nod from Silver. "Homefront Alpha-Echo, that's our callsign. They'll recognize it in a heartbeat. Just say what you need to say."

"Got it!" he nodded in acknowledgement before turning his attention to speaking with the ship. "Lacus, this is Homefront Alpha-Echo, how copy?" called Silver over the deafening racket behind him, holding a hoof over one of the earphones in attempt to slightly muffle his surroundings.

"Homefront Alpha-Echo, this is Lacus, good copy. Great to hear a friendly voice for once. What the hell is going on over there?"

"Total shit show, Lacus. Assistance is very much needed. Would you mind listing your available arsenal?"

"We got fully loaded Mk. 41 cells, plenty of shells in our Mk. 45. Really, we've been sittin' on all this for hours, waitin' for your word. But we are running on manual targeting after our systems were compromised. What do you need, Homefront?"

"We could use one or two of those tomahawks, Lacus. Laser guidance will be provided."

"Copy, Homefront. Would you list strike coordinates?"

At this, Silver froze. "Uh..." his eyes dashed around, as did his mind, leaving him utterly bewildered as to what information should be given then. Perhaps he should have let the comms officer relay this for him, though he knew he was as clueless of the strike point as the next pony. Very slowly, he swiveled around, sights shifting upward to the top of the still-tallest and virtually the only unscathed structure in the city. "No coordinates available, but I do have a location."

There was a curt silence, one that frightened the beige stallion momentarily until a response finally came a few seconds later. "Continue, Homefront."

Silver let off a short breath, eyeballing the top of the glass and steel skyscraper. "You will be targeting GenTech Tower, top floors. We are after their antenna array, we think it will disrupt the signal. Civilians are clear of area, repeat. Casualty risk is minimum."

In the background, a voice called that he heard in on, "We are striking the city?!"

"Roger, Homefront. Will strike in two minutes, be advised. Have your laser ready."

"Will do, Lacus. Thank you for your assistance." At that, Silver returned the headset to the officer, and immediately began to sprint back to us. "Two minutes! We have two minutes 'til tomahawks!"

"About damn time!" Shadow yelled back, in the process of swiftly reloading his M4 with a fresh magazine. Like many others with similar rifles, he was running low on ammunition to spare.

Furiously unloading a whole twenty rounds in one burst, Hardstaff narrowed his focus on one target in particular. That was, until a supercharged shot struck the barrier a mere four inches from his form. Not only did its impact startle him, its proximity compelled him into diving completely behind cover with his back against the wall of sandbags, heaving at the chest to regain some sense of his mind. As unlike the sergeant he acted right this second, it was somewhat difficult to believe this was the same pony in charge of me and about a dozen others.

"When the hell did we advance so quickly to where we're fighting fucking self-operating robots?! We ain't in the damn twenty-second century yet!" grunted Hardstaff in frustration through a rough breath. "I miss the days of simplicity, when the only thing to be genuinely concerned about was making sure nopony blows up the barracks with a peashooter, not fending off some billionaire sociopath's remote-controlled army!"

As a nearby medic finally came to the downed corpspony's aid, I returned to the front lines beside my sergeant, snatching up my own weapon off the ground as it was half buried in spent bullets. "You aren't giving up on us already, now are you, Sergeant?"

The mere mention of the words 'giving up' sent Hardstaff into overdrive, slashing at my vest with a glare that shot up into my bare essence. This time, it didn't intimidate me. "You best watch your words there, Corporal, before I slap your cocky ass on a silver platter." And just like that, he was up on all fours again. Good old Hardstaff.

Just then, over the roar of gunfire that completely deafened the curt detonations of grenades, the scream of a rocket pierced the air.

I snapped my head over my shoulder and up, watching as a grey streak crested above a partially-collapsed high rise and trailing from the east. As it rapidly approached, the object's shape grew more discernible zipping out of the sun's brightness.

"There's one tomahawk!" I called out in warning, springing both Javelin and Hermes into action.

Prepared in advance for the strike, a heavy yet compact box-shaped laser projector sat atop a table outside the logistics tent. The unicorn ensured the device was powered up, while the griffon made it his duty to rest the hairstrand-thin red sight upon the roof of GenTech Tower with only mere seconds to accomplish.

The missile soared overhead, captivating the attention of a few others on the ground, and even some of the juggernaut drones as they made poor attempts to down it. Disappearing behind a damaged building, then returning to view as it gained some altitude upon locating the laser's targeting point and headed straight for the tower.

An enormous boom shattered the two-sided symphony of fire. A bright orange fireball lit up the upper portion of GenTech Tower, completely destroying its rooftop and penthouse floors, as well as all three black antennas of varying height. Two visible faces of the asymmetrically-shaped skyscraper darkened to the building's interior as glass near the missile's impact point simultaneously shattered for thirty more floors.

Chunks of debris of various proportions spread out in the explosion and rained for two blocks surrounding the tower, and the resulting blaze left burning by leaking gas lines throughout the building sent a massive column of smoke rising skyward. Through the raging flames, the total damage dealt was only hardly noticeable, although it was apparent that a whole chunk of the upper east face had been blown off, along with the entirety of the roof.

Many of us watched the strike transpire, expecting the antennas' destruction to put a prompt end to the drones' advance on us. Any moment, and we anticipated the end of the battle.

Then it happened. The moment we all have been waiting for. In a somewhat delayed unison, each and every drone halted in its tracks and ceased fire. While they remained powered on, it seemed like the worst was finally over, leading to subsequent celebration of apparent victory. Roars erupted across the square in the form of cheers and chants about as deafening as the war moments prior. Joy and relief burst throughout my body, prompting me to grab the closest acquaintance—that being Silver Edge—and yanking him into a shaky embrace that he gracefully returned.

But, of course, our triumph could only be short-lived. Fate was not through with us yet. A low rumble quaked the earth beneath our hooves, not unlike the numerous plaguing the area in recent days. To me, however, this one was different. Silver lifted his head and withdrew from me, his gaze lifted skyward and was ultimately frozen with fear. My first instinct was, for some odd reason, to check our surroundings and noticed others acting similarly. That's when the ground darkened as a wall of shadows swept over the square like a blanket. In that same moment, the whole area went frighteningly quiet.

Every remaining unturned head now shifted focus in one particular direction when an enormous arrowhead-shaped object eclipsed the hazy morning sun. The ghostly hum of its engines rattled the compromised integrity of structures all around and, while the rumble was light as can be, it did manage to force further roof cave-ins in various places.

Most of us, unmoving out of shock and awe, did not know how to properly react to the scene before our very eyes. The craft's sleek design and its relatively quiet entrance made it appear almost alien in nature. Then again, just about every thing more recently has seemed to be out of this world when it actually was not, and nothing could genuinely surprise me anymore. Yet somehow, this did.

The small squadron of jets circling the city broke formation as they came around for another loop in order to get out of the way of the climbing ship that made them appear like common house flies in comparison. Only one didn't make the turn, slamming into the port bow and bursting into a fireball that ultimately dealt no damage to the larger craft's exterior. As the remaining fighters banked away to create distance without a clue whether or not the newly-arrived vessel was hostile or not, the cannons took lightning-fast aim.

In a single shot, one that appeared to take the lead of the jet's flight path and looked to miss entirely, the blue energy and the heavy mass it surrounded collided directly in another massive explosion that rendered the destroyed plane's debris unrecognizable as it fell to earth. One by one, the three remaining jets were blown out of the sky with no warning for their pilots to eject in time. Looks of horror swept across every Marine's countenance witnessing what were once believed to be mighty machines of war, some of the most advanced in the world, be reduced to nothing in mere seconds.

"Vengeance..." muttered Shadow under his breath, honing on the ship as it gradually came into full view above the tops of buildings.

The craft's appearance wasn't all, either. Soon enough, it came as a terrifying realization that the strike had no effect on the drones' mobility whatsoever and the growing assortment of varying-sized mechs alike failed to cease their engagement and resumed their advance on Homefront when gatling guns tore through the air once more and instantly sprayed showers of blood in every direction as hundreds of rounds shredded through even the thickest of body armor and pierced flesh like it was made of butter.

And as if that had not been the icing on the cake, an eerie voice spoke through every Marine's earpiece and radio around the plaza, relaying the same message for all to hear.

"Here you all were, so joyful and relieved, thinking you could get ahead of the curve and be a step ahead of me. The thing about GenTech, gentlecolts, is we are always five steps ahead of all others. Now, if I were you, I would simply lay down your weapons and let us handle it from here. Sound good?"

"Over our dead bodies we'll lay our guns!" shouted an infantry Marine, garnering a wave of proud oorahs from copious others around him as they reengaged against the drones.

"Then so be it," returned Armet in a dark manner, without another word said after that.

Between the gigantic spaceship-like craft rising into the sky behind us, and the ever-growing robotic army in front of us, no one could really be sure which of the two was the bigger threat, yet neither can go without scrutinizing for even a second.

"Fuck! Damn it! Nothing we are doing is stopping these bastards, not to mention this homicidal ass above us!" yelled Hardstaff in evident vexation. He was frustrated, I was frustrated; frankly it's safe to say everypony here is.

I felt a hoof plant itself on my shoulder, which startled me some. Peeking over, my eyes met with the lieutenant's, and I turned fully to face him. "We need a plan, ASAP."

At that, I gave a concurring nod. "I can't agree more, Lieutenant, however I am bone dry on ideas if that is why you came to me."

The white pegasus let off a sharp exhale in defeat. "Was worth a shot."

"That ship we radioed offshore," began Zjitzo, strolling up to us with his head lowered. "Why don't we have it launch everything it's got to blow that thing out of the sky?"

"Being the leader of a task force sent straight from the Griffish Isles to deal with our nation's problem, I'd figure you would have some understanding of GenTech by now," said Shadow somewhat snarkily from off to the side. "You and I very well know any missile would not come close to that ship, assuming they even make it past the cell hatches."

The large griffon among us flicked a look at the captain. "Just because we were tasked to this mission does not necessarily mean we understand all of its credentials."

Then, out of the blue, a wine-coated Marine shouted from the logistics tent, running toward us. "I know what can stop him!"

All at once, four pairs of eyes turned to the unicorn as he spoke up. "You do?"

Without giving a response, Javelin swiftly whipped out a black electronic adapter with a small light on the end and placed it in his lieutenant's hold.

"What is this for?" Snow questioned, examining it in his hoof.

"One of my remote connectors," Javelin started. "I'm thinking the signal for his army is also being transmitted from that ship. If we can plug it in to something on board, anything from a server tower to a computer console, I can patch into it from my laptop from the ground and work on disabling it, and hopefully the drones, too."

The lieutenant lifted his crimson gaze to meet the greens of his tech officer's. "How do you know that will work?"

"So long as I can break GenTech's ever-updating layers of firewall, which will be tricky, even for me, but I have a basic understanding of it right now from what I've gathered in the past."

"What are the odds that you can pull that off?" Snow scowled slightly, brow raised at the unicorn's claims.

Javelin blinked twice, waving his hoof in an irresolute manner. "I don't completely know. Sixty-forty, maybe pushing seventy-five-twenty-five at most?"

Snow stood menacingly tall, saying with a raised volume, "Techie, all that tells me you aren't so certain of your abilities. Just give me the fucking assurance that you can get it done while we still have time!"

Recoiling some at his commanding officer's booming voice, the maroon unicorn returned firm nods. "Right. I'll make it work, Lieutenant, you have my word."

"That's more like it," Snow tipped his chin in response. "The real question is, who the hell wants to go up there?"

"I'll do it," chimed Shadow without a second of hesitation.

Author's Note

After over two months of no update, a change of chapter names and a decision to split what would have been Part 6 into two chapters, here it is, at long last. I sincerely apologize for it taking this long to get out, but after computer troubles and heavy writer's block, I'm happy to have it done.

49. The Battle for Manehattan - Part II

My attention snapped to Shadow, eyes wide as saucers. "What?!" I yipped out of shock reflex.

Acknowledging my reaction with a split-second glance, the captain looked between us five. "I recognize the layout of the ship from when he gave the tour and virtually every corridor there is. I know exactly where to go."

Zjitzo's brow furrowed. "How the hell do you plan on getting up there? You saw what they did to those jets for merely breaking formation. In fact, those shots should have been impossible!"

The naval captain shook his head in disagreement. "With Armet? I doubt it."

I sat there for a good long moment, thinking my options over. My gaze shifted up to the arrow-shaped object slowly climbing higher into the sky. In that instance, I had made up my mind. "I'll carry you up there, Captain."

Shadow snapped his head over, looking slightly caught off guard. "Can you fly?"

I nodded more confidently than I actually was. The more time spent pondering on it, the less self-assurance I had regarding my ability in flying to such heights, let alone with another pony to carry along. But now wasn't the time for inhibitions. "Of course I can. I'm a pegasus," I replied in sarcastic remark, except neither of them caught it.

"Are you sure you two can do it alone? That thing's going to be swarming with his ponies," queried Zjitzo in some concern. "Allow us to accompany you."

Shadow waved his hoof to the offer. "That will not be necessary. Two are far less detectable than a dozen. We'll be outnumbered, yes, which is why we ask of you to keep your confidence high."

The others nodded, then Javelin stepped toward me, digging into a pocket in his belt. "Here, you can't go without one of these," he said, producing a small earpiece.

"Where did you get this from?" I questioned, taking it gently.

"I always keep a spare on me in case something happens to mine," Javelin winked. "It is already programmed to our private comm channel, so no need to tamper with it."

I nodded my head once, lifting the little device to my ear and slipping it in comfortably. Javelin tipped his chin while Snow exchanged the flash drive to Shadow, which he safely put away into a pocket in his uniform. My attention shifted to the captain. "Are we set?"

"You sure you are up for this?" Shadow asked back, a genuine look of concern plastered on his countenance.

"Only partially," I admitted. "But hey, someone's gotta do it."

He could only nod in agreement with that, and the two of us began trotting to an open area behind Homefront to take off.

"Wait!" I heard a friendly voice call, stopping me. I turned my head, seeing Ashfall walk up. "Did I hear right, that you are going up there?"

I clenched up a little at the question. Saying no would have been a blatant lie and he knows that, but having him fret over my return also wasn't what I wanted in our present situation. "Yes." Damn it, mouth.

Ash's light red cores shot wide open, further revealing the bloody fractures in his eyeballs from discernible fatigue. "The hell you are! What are you, his chauffeur?" he threw up a hoof, gesturing to the naval captain.

"Is this any of your business, Marine?" glared Shadow, taking a step forward ahead of me to face Ash.

I shifted my attention briefly to give a soft look at the captain. "Please, sir, let me handle this."

Shadow looked at me, then back to Ash with an unwavering scowl before he backed off. When he was no longer involved and out of our conversation space, I turned back to my friend with a countenance that combined concern with determination.

"Are you really about to leave us again, Star?" he questioned lowly in a tone of disappointment, his ears drooping inside his helmet.

At first I didn't understand what he meant by 'again', until I remembered, which only slightly worsened the mutual tension. "But I came back last time, didn't I?" I remarked with a poor attempt at a reassuring smile.

"Barely, from what I heard," Ash replied, narrowing his sights only more to look me dead in the eye. "I don't want to be the one to break the news this time."

I lifted a hoof to his shoulder, patting it twice before sitting it there. "Then you can be the one to tell Anchor and Night what it was for." Instantly I regretted those words, seeing how little they contributed to his feelings in spite of the truth in them.

Realistically, neither me nor Shadow truly knew what we were getting into. The stakes were high regardless of outcome, and it ultimately boils down to it being us, or millions of lives. It was not that difficult to comprehend the importance of our decision to storm the Vengeance; that said, I understood Ash's apprehension.

"Then if you're going up there, take these. I think they might come in handy," he said, handing over a pair of what appeared to be batons of the exact design as the electrified ones back in Los Pegasus.

My eyes dashed downward, then up. I gently took them with a thanking nod, holstering them along my barrel. "Every little bit helps. Will you guys be okay down here?"

Ash simply shrugged his shoulders, then gave a strangely calm smile, followed by words that were somewhat less than reassuring. "We'll see."

"Corporal! Get your lazy ass back over here and help us!" barked Sunset Haze, prompting Ash to get back in the fight.

The moss stallion began to turn around, pausing to give one final glance and saying, "Good luck," before hurrying back to his MG.

I watched him go for a moment, anxious for his sake, for Silver's, and everypony else around me. For all I knew, this might be the last time I see them among the living. Or vice versa. That wasn't the greatest of feelings to depart with.

However, those thoughts must be pushed aside in the meantime. Tucking either baton underneath a belt on my vest and looping my SCAR's strap around the back of my neck, I glanced over to Shadow, dipping myself almost completely to the cement to allow him to climb on.

With much care so as to not hurt me in any way, the greenish-grey stallion slid onto my back comfortably, shifting about to give my wings the space needed to prevent hampering flight. He looked down at me with a mild look of concern across his mien, asking, "I have not seen you off the ground a day in my life. What changed?"

At his question, I glanced some over my shoulder, giving a little smirk. "A small spark of motivation. Hang on."

Both hooves clenched around my lower neck, not to the point of choking but without risking falling off. I dipped my body forward, my forehooves lower than my hinds, honing my sights upon the sky and Vengeance.

Barring any hesitation, I leaped upward with all strength put into my limbs to get us airborne. With the aid of my wings as I flapped them hard, I gained somewhat unstable lift that only prompted Shadow to hold on tighter while I stabilized.

Because we were only just barely climbing at a faster rate than the ship rather than it sitting in a steady hover, we were catching up, albeit slower than I wanted to. Some part of my conscience bitched and moaned over my decision, mainly due to how inexperienced I was with flying, but it was far too late to change my mind now.

"Star! Shadow! Do you read me?" yelled Javelin loudly into either of our earpieces, startling me somewhat by the set volume of the earpiece. That might become obnoxious later on.

"Loud and clear, Techie!" was my response, keeping it short so as to maintain concentration.

Each and every rapid pump of my wings strained them, primarily due to the excess weight and gravity viciously tugging down on my form, not to mention upper-level winds and wake turbulence from the Vengeance threatening to send us tumbling to earth.

The closer we came to the ship, the sheer size of it became more apparent, and the low rumbling hum of its thrusters underneath sent cold chills running up my spine.

"What's your current position?!" called Javelin over the roaring of gunfire in the background.

"About, uh... three hundred feet below the hull!" responded Shadow, having to raise his voice over the increasingly loud hum of the engines, which eventually turned into a roar that expelled heat that the both of us felt on our faces.

"Head straight up for those glass panes!" he shouted over the wind pushing back against us.

My sights honed in on the ship's port side, where an array of angled windows lined a gently-curved section along the belly. From here, without any sort of hatch nearby, that appeared to be the only way in.

"Brace yourself!" I warned, angling myself to gather adequate speed to crash through. Shadow ducked himself somewhat, maintaining his hold around my neck with one hoof while using the other to shield his eyes.

Whether or not my momentum was enough to break the glass, this would hurt; though hopefully only temporarily and not end up with me covered in half-inch thick shards from head to tail. Then again, that was preferable to subsequent death by blunt force trauma, which was the next thing to hit me just before the glass did.

With an enormous crash that rendered me stunned immediately after, the two of us broke through the pane. In the seconds following impact, I wished even more that I hadn't given up my helmet earlier when I did. On the contrary, those civilians needed the rebreather in that dust storm. Though it would have saved me a literal headache, which now spread as far down as my shoulders.

I landed flat on the floor beside the angled windows with a deep grunt as both the blow from hitting a second solid surface along with Shadow's mass momentarily pressing down as his momentum transferred into me. In spite of my dizzied state, my hooves squirmed about as I struggled some to get up, swishing around bits of shattered glass that rained on us both. Thankfully, none of it caught between a dividing lip in the floor panels and my jumpsuit sleeves, which would have resulted in perhaps an inch or two of glass stabbing like a kitchen knife through flesh.

Hopping off my back quickly, allowing me to finally support my own weight and nothing more, Shadow offered out a hoof. "You alright, Marine?"

I shook my head just to put an end to the spinning of the room, hastily taking his hoof and lifting myself onto all fours. "Remind me to grab a spare helmet next time," I replied, wiping my vest free of lingering glass pieces.

Shadow smirked a little at that, then began scanning our surroundings. "Now, where in the hell are we?" he mumbled just audibly.

I took a moment to rub my forehead, eyes shut. "Tell me we didn't land in the one place you didn't pass through?" I groaned out between heavy breaths.

"No, hold on," he insisted, subconsciously popping out the clip in his gun to check what rounds were left in it before reinserting. Checking both in front of and behind us, he muttered incoherently to himself as he worked out where we were. "All right, we should be near a main stairwell. That should lead us almost directly to the server farm."

Panting still, trying to catch my breath for even just a moment, I finally glanced up to take in the corridor we now sat in. "I don't know about you, Shadow, but this feels like some Con Mane, spy movie-meets-comic book superhero-crossover bullshit."

A small grin curled the captain's lips upward once more. "You aren't entirely wrong there," he rejoined. Facing forward, he drew his sidearm defensively. "What is your ammo looking like?"

"Three mags, that's it," I replied in a soft grunt. Without easy access to rounds, it was in my best interest to conserve as many bullets as I possibly could while up here.

"Make do with that; but most importantly, make good use of those batons. Luna knows they should come in handy one way or another," he said. "Now, on me."

Lifting the SCAR's strap over my head to hold it properly, I moved up close behind the captain as he started to move up the corridor. The first t-shaped intersection to our left was a stairwell that led to the next level only, which Shadow climbed without hesitation to his step.

This windowless passageway was particularly long and went without entrances to any compartments, if there were any on this level at all. On our right sat another stairwell, this one carrying up five more levels to the flight deck. Briefly examining the designation label along the wall, Shadow continued up to the next floor, keeping his sidearm drawn in one hoof as he did while I kept close quarters.

Upon reaching what was referred to as sublevel one, partitioning off the lower section of Vengeance from the rest of the ship, Shadow took extra caution moving into the hall just beyond the entryway, double checking to make sure nopony was traversing these same passageways before heading right toward another crossroad that was notably brighter in lighting than most of the stairwell itself.

As he pulled up to a corner of the intersection, he signaled up his hoof to halt here as he cautiously peeked one eye around, and what he saw brought a small grunt out of the captain; the hall direction we needed to take, manned by a singular, yet unarmed GenTech sentry.

The guard stood just to the side of what presumably was the passageway into the server farm, or a branching corridor that led to it. To his immediate right, a button alarm; an easy press from alerting the entire ship of our presence.

Shadow dug into one of his pockets, producing a spent bullet shell. He glanced over his shoulder, giving a silent gesture for me to pay attention to what he was about to do.

I shifted to a better position in order to observe whilst retaining secrecy from the enemy only a few feet from where we stood. Shadow took the bullet shell in his hoof and wound it back, tossing with just enough strength to let it land just past the guard's position.

Clinking along the floor as it bounced three times before rolling to a halt, the noise did its job in attracting the sentry's attention. First he snapped his head to the immediate source, followed by gentle movement to approach the shell without raising the alarm. This gave us a perfect window to slip past undetected, though Shadow had other plans in mind.

Without so much as giving a signal to move, the greenish-grey stallion advanced out into the passageway, not only catching me by surprise, but the guard as well when he clicked the hammer of his sidearm just behind his head.

"No sudden moves, no noises. Understood?" Shadow threatened quietly, garnering a slow, acknowledging nod by the frightened sentry.

Shadow waved his hoof, gesturing for me to post up beside the server farm entryway. Moving into this position blocked the alarm in case the guard attempts to toggle it suddenly.

The pistol's muzzle jabbed into the back of his head, causing him to lurch some as he was startled. "Into the corridor, slowly. Move," ordered Shadow, poking his sidearm a second time.

Very gradually and smoothly, the guard looped around Shadow's side while he and I both strictly observed. Shadow gave a third shove, prompting him to move a little bit faster. I had my SCAR drawn but kept my hoof away from the trigger in order to intimidate the sentry further as he turned into the split-off.

For a moment it was evident that he was eyeballing the alarm trigger, though he would have to go through me to reach it—assuming Shadow doesn't pop his head off like a balloon meeting a dart first.

Once in the passageway, I checked our surroundings carefully before moving in after them. Past a full bulkhead panel sat window panes stretching from the floor to the ceiling, some of which frosted to conceal the city of equal-sized server towers blinking in reds, greens, yellows, and some blues, with wiring very tidily stretching along the ceiling and into the floors without risk of tripping.

The hall itself was somewhat dimly lit, though not to the point of any obscurity. The opposite end was closed off by a locked bulkhead hatch not unlike those on the Eclipse.

"Stop," Shadow commanded to the guard, but also to me as I watched our sixes. The quaking stallion stopped dead in his tracks just short of the entrance to the server farm. After only a couple of seconds, Shadow's gun cracked into the guard's temple. He let off a pained grunt and collapsed to the floor, completely incapacitated.

The sound even startled me, and I whipped my head around to see just who made it. That's when my eyes settled upon the guard, as well as Shadow aiming his gun down toward his head in case he was faking unconsciousness. "Take his badge, it doubles as an access card. Depending on his level of security clearance, it should let us in just about anywhere."

At his order, I rushed to the sentry's side and knelt, pushing his limp form upright to nab the simple badge he wore. It read of his name, displayed a simple mugshot beside it, and included a black stripe along the back side for swiping.

The only thing standing between us and potential victory was an automatic glass pane door, and of course it was locked by only a digital keypad without a surface to scan or swipe the recovered access card. Shadow's first attempt at opening the server farm was a hard buck to the glass, which simply reverberated the impact's energy back into his body and threw him forward some.

"Damn it..." Shadow sighed in frustration, raising the pistol's barrel to the glass to shoot it out.

Just before he could pull the trigger, a deep voice startlingly spoke over a ceiling speaker. "That won't work, I'm afraid."

Both Shadow and I swiftly scrutinized our surroundings, before he noticed a rather inconspicuously-placed security camera above the server farm entrance. Now it made sense how he could see us, and he likely knew we were on board before we even landed.

"You know, you could have fooled me. I'd have believed you came all this way just to watch the fireworks. But I know that isn't the real reason you two are here with us."

My sights narrowed sharply onto the opaque semisphere that encompassed the lens as it focused on us. "Fireworks? What fireworks? What the hell are you planning?"

"Why, the rebirth of this squalor we call home, boys. The countdown has already begun. In a few short minutes, this ship will target and neutralize any and all threats to our beloved future, courtesy of our continental scanning array floating in low orbit over our very heads."

My teeth grit in a growing fury deep in my essence. "You're going to kill hundreds, maybe thousands for personal gains? You are psychotic!"

"Psychotic? Me?" Armet said, before bursting into a cackle. "I'm a little bit offended. Only a little. But, no, I am not a psycho. I am, what many bright minds would call, a pony of intellect. Besides, I wouldn't call them personal gains if everypony will benefit from it."

Shadow scoffed at his remark. "Not if the everypony you speak of is murdered in cold blood! Already you have thrown the nation's economy into a total tailspin, but yet you want more. Always more with you billionaires. What's next, world domination? Good luck with that, buddy. You've pissed off an entire nation's armed forces so far."

"You know what? I've had enough of the two of you for one lifetime. Security, deal with these stowaways at once!"

"And I have had it up to here with his tech..." Shadow grunted in further annoyance, yanking one of the batons from my utility belt and flipping the switch that generates the shocking electricity along the stick and took a prompt swing at the keypad, with me turning my head away and backstepping to protect myself from unintentional electrocution.

Upon contact, the crackling of the baton's energy expelling into the keypad quickly short circuited it and even broke the glass surface that made up the touchpad, subsequently overriding the system that maintained the door's lock, and opened it with enough clearance for him to slip inside. Shadow lifted a hoof to his headset, speaking into the little microphone sticking out from the side of his helmet. "All right, Javelin, we're in. Now what?"

Just then, my ears perked to the racket of multiple hooves galloping down the adjacent corridor. Upon peeking my head out to check, I noted four stallions in blue and grey skin-tight suits of security guards, not unlike the incapacitated one by the server farm, hurrying toward us. "We've got company, Captain," I announced to him.

"Can you hold them off while I work?" he glanced at me, returning my baton undamaged.

I nodded my head once. "I'll do what I can," before taking a defensive stance near the doorway and waiting for the sentries to enter.

"Do our country proud, Corporal," he said, reciting what I had said to him at the U.W.C. That in itself made me stop and look at him for a split second, even as he squeezed into the server farm.

Frankly, I wasn't the most confident taking on four ponies all on my lonesome. A part of me just wanted to shoot them and be done with it, though that would be a complete waste of ammunition if I am to need it later. It was the good side of my conscience that talked me out of it simply because these stallions appeared unarmed apart from stun sticks of their own.

I waited for the prime moment, and that was the second before they reached the entryway when I whipped out my other baton and activated both of their electrical fields. One swing of the baton in my left hoof collided with the throat of the first sentry, an earth pony, essentially clotheslining him as he rushed in. His head knocked back as his rear slid forward under him, landing him on his back and choking from the sudden blow.

Without a moment of hesitating did I leap out into the open passageway, catching the second pony tailing the first with the force of my chest crashing into his shoulder, shoving the pegasus sideways and into the bulkhead. My demeanor temporarily turned away while the two were downed to focus on the remaining earth pony-and-unicorn duo as they drew their respective stun batons and took swings for me.

Lurching back to dodge caused me to stomp my hinds into the first downed's chest, effectively kicking the wind out of him and lengthening his recovery time. Between assaults would I return swings, clashing batons against those of the remaining assailants that sparked and clapped bolts of electricity that only added to the adrenaline between everypony in that hallway.

It did surprise me the lack of indoctrination these sentries appear to have received, especially for their duties aboard a rather important component of Armet's plan; though my own basic close-quarters combat training can't have rivaled theirs by much, either.

The pegasus quickly pushed himself up from the bulkhead and leaped airborne, diving just narrowly above his partners' heads in the low-ceiling hall in attempt to force me to the floor. I ducked my head while simultaneously raising my hoof, catching it into the pegasus' wing, sending him into a spiral that ended with a hard crash some four feet behind me.

This gave the unicorn an advantage, taking this very brief opportunity to latch my forehoof in a lime green aura and toss me into the bulkhead with enough strength to jumble some screws up above. The impact forced one of the batons out of my hold, clattering along the floor panel beside me as I came down with a grunt, only to hop right back up with adequate reaction time to block an incoming blow from the second earth pony's free hoof.

In the chaos, the unicorn sentry made feeble attempt to snatch up the loose baton beneath me, stopped only by my hoof coming down to hold it in place. This prompted him to try and steal my SCAR off of my person, and right as he grabbed it by the stock, my hoof raised to twist and aim it before two rounds settled into the unicorn's chest in small bloody sprays from each wound that sprinkled the left bulkhead and the floor in red, followed by a pool that surrounded his dying form as he went down.

While against my interest to spend precious ammunition on these goons, it only served that sentry right to die a much more painful death for even considering trying to take my gun away. That said, with him down and the pegasus still recovering from his rough landing, it left me with the two earth ponies to deal with.

"Damn it, he's locked me out!" Javelin yelled overtop heavy gunfire in the background and minor static in our private channel, likely caused by distance interference.

"What the hell do you mean he's locked you out?!" I heard Shadow return through my earpiece, being unable to hear him from out in this passageway.

"Uhh, one second! Armet's just slightly smarter than me... slightly!" he assured. That meant I had to continue buying them time out here.

The first of the two, the one to have been clotheslined at the start, didn't bother to wield his own stun baton and instead went for cuffs to the face and elbows to strike me down. I backstepped, narrowly avoiding his hoof as it swung by, then lunged down and forward to shove the top of the electrified stick into his chest. Upon contact, he trembled and convulsed as shocks surged through his system, effectively locking him still as his nerves refused to respond. While he was in a daze, I spun a full one-eighty, delivering a hard one-leg buck to his jaw that sent him flying backwards.

Spinning back around, I brought up my left baton after snatching it up from the floor, smacking it by the flat side into the second stallion's cheek, before raising my right hoof to finally crack him in the skull with the other, throwing him face-down into the floor panel. Upon coming to rest, splayed out across the large tile, he ultimately went limp from unconsciousness.

Just as the rear of my mind started to believe the fight was over, my ear swiveled to the low groan of the pegasus propping himself up, preparing to attack one last time. Without giving him a further chance to, I rushed up to the staggering pony with my baton lowered, kicking all four hooves right out from underneath him before dealing a final, electrocuting blow to the side that sizzled and burnt away at his feathers.

At long last, and after a scuffle that seemed to last an eternity which, in all actuality likely only carried on for no more than three or four minutes, one threat was over. But it was the words that came from Javelin Charm down on the ground that raised new concern. "Fuck, damn it!"

That wasn't a good sign in the least. "What is it? What's wrong?" I replied, hastily checking the bodies in the passageway for any useful tools prior to making my way back to Shadow.

"This won't work. The servers are too far encrypted, even for me," he replied in a severely frustrated tone.

"Then what the hell do we do?! We are running out of time up here!" shouted Shadow, looking up at the doorway as I rushed back to him panting and slicked with sweat across the forehead.

A sigh came from the unicorn on the other end of our comms channel, then a brief silence that was soon broken by a revelation. "How close are you to the bridge?"

Shadow glanced up at me, blinking. "A few levels down. Why?"

"If you can plug me in to something, a-a console for example, any console, I might have a chance at breaking the firewall that way. They won't know you are headed that way because I put their camera footage on a loop."

"The bridge will be heavily defended, not to mention any more sentries that might be waiting for us elsewhere."

"It's worth a shot, Captain," I said to Shadow, adamant in my tone. We were up here already, putting our lives on the line to complete the mission. One way or another, we were going to succeed. I wasn't willing to give up now after all we have been through thus far.

He looked right back at me, stamping his hoof on the floor. "Damn it. All right, we are moving up to the bridge."

"Copy. Exercise extreme caution on your way there."

***

Marines and the few sailors present alike huddled close together to squeeze in as much firepower as possible to fend off the advancing attackers. Homefront had been abandoned ten minutes ago following the appearance of yet another two squadrons of Juggernaut drones and three extra Collectors, prompting defensive forces to fall back east to prevent mass casualty rates at such close proximity.

Without much time given to prepare, makeshift barriers consisting of rubble strewn about the streets of lower Manehattan were quickly put in place by unicorns on the ground with some aerial aid by pegasi. The avenues and boulevards nearest Batterneigh Park made for prime defending points with how much less open space there was for drones to come from different angles.

However, it still was not clear just how they could be so easily defeated collectively. Air support had been downed minutes prior, and more destructive weapons such as grenade launchers as well as missiles from destroyers and cruisers in the vicinity were inadequate to do the job efficiently. Resources were beyond stretched; and to make matters worse, those fighting on the ground now had the enormous flying warship to be concerned about.

It wasn't long before GenTech drones were once more on approach, now threatening to practically push back remaining defenses to the harbor, which would ultimately lead to a total loss of Manehattan Island. To their relief, however, the situation appeared isolated to the main city rather than spreading out across the region, allotting extra time to devise plans to temporarily disable or even wipe out masses of robots.

Any plans would have to be put on hold for the time being, as now bullets and streaks of powerful gamma tore through the smoky air once more as the second battle began. Attached to his respective unit on this particular east-west street, Ashfall, along with a tagging Silver Edge and two other Marine squadrons held their fire as demolitions went to work, wiring a rather unstable structure on the right-hoof side of the block.

With such a limited window in their favor, less than what was required to professionally lace the old twentieth-century building with explosives could be achieved, though it would have to be enough to simply pray everything goes to plan. Bringing down hundreds of tons of stone, brick, and steel would surely buy more time, if not wipe out a large swath of the charging drones.

The countdown began, giving demolitions Marines no more than a few seconds to clear the general vicinity of where debris should fall. Even from some distance from the target building, many ducked their heads further behind cover as the first charges blew.

Mere moments after detonation, the upper floors of the old law office began to cave in, kicking up a cloud of dust that shrouded the street below as gravity took hold. But not all of the explosives blew, and the collapse came to a halt, purely raining small chunks of stone and brick onto Juggernauts that harmlessly deflected off their titanium skins.

As some raised their heads to peek and even open fire after a period of waiting, a very sudden and unexpected round managed to catch Silver by the horn. It sizzled, momentarily striking him with immense heat across his forehead and catching him by total surprise that jolted him all over. Strangely though, he felt no pain as it did not impact any part of his flesh. That was, until his ears picked up on the faintest of clinks below him.

Glancing down, his magenta irides widened at the sight of the dampening ring once clamped securely around his horn, which now lay cut cleanly in half between his hooves. He realized this without a moment of hesitation that he was now fully exposed to the drones' scanners.

"M-my ring!" he cried out in shock, checking along his horn for any physical damage to it. Even the slightest of cracks could potentially put an end to his use of magic, knowing just how fragile unicorn horns were.

Taking notice of the unicorn's distress, Ashfall dipped down beneath cover to check on his friend. "You good, sailor?" he asked, planting a hoof on Silver's shoulder.

The beige stallion replied with a shaky nod, eyes still wide open in surprise at the realization of how much worse it could have been. He might have lost his horn and all of its functionality, or worse.

"Y-yeah, I'm good, man," Silver responded, proceeding to laugh it off to calm some nerves in both him and his buddy.

Without so much as hesitating, he grabbed his rifle and re-joined the fight, hoping to keep fending off an approaching Collector droid as long as he could without being immediately detected by their highly advanced aura scanners.

***

Tailing Shadow up three more flights of staircases, at last we neared the Vengeance's bridge. Situated on a much smaller level due to the ship's overall shape, it sat above multiple hangar bays and even overlooked a full-length runway with catapults not unlike those on a seafaring aircraft carrier, albeit on a much larger scale that could launch even some of the largest cargo planes known to the world.

The sole entrance point to the bridge was a multi-layer sliding door with a card scanner and touchpad on either side. In fact, it amazed me how little resistance there was leading up here. Of course, that could change the moment we slip through. Hell, the entire ship's security forces could be on the other side of that door, waiting to shoot the moment it parts open, which is why we posted up along the walls on either end for cover.

"You still have the card?" asked Shadow from the opposite corner, double-checking the ammo in his sidearm. I returned a nod, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. "Let's hope that colt received the highest clearance there is."

Only one way to find out. Taking the guard's badge from a side pouch, I raised it to the black panel to my left beside the door. It beeped once, lighting up in a bright green, a sign that we were in.

Very gradually, the doors slid open. Shadow eyeballed me in silence, and I returned a steady gaze, exhaling sharply to calm my nerves ahead of what could be a nasty altercation. He raised his hoof, signaling to stay put for just a second longer as enough room was given for a pony to move through. He waited until the doors finished opening before jumping through with his gun drawn. I followed in directly after him.

"Hooves in the air, Armet!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, voice carrying out intimidatingly across the highly tech-equipped bridge.

That's when the two of us froze. There he was, standing there at the bottom of shallow steps, in the exact middle of the circular control center, surrounded by what could have only been three or four dozen of his troops in all-black battle armor with energy rifles of their own aimed directly at us.

"Well, well, well, you made it," the maroon unicorn cooed, a smirk pursing his lips. "Congratulations, you two."

My teeth grit in pure contained anger. It took all of the discipline seared into my brain in boot camp to restrain myself, and even that couldn't stop my inner rage from slipping out. "First you have me kidnapped and try to execute me, then you shoot down the plane I am on, and now this?! You really want me dead, don't you? You're a fucking asshole!"

"I see you stole my experimental computerized eye protection," he returned in cold remark, nodding at the pair of sunglasses rested in my mane.

"Call it repurposed technology for the better, Armet," I snarled back.

Shadow flicked his eyes at me briefly, keeping his pistol drawn and aimed down at the devious unicorn while minding the staggering number of sentries surrounding him. "Don't make this harder than it has to be. I believe in redemption, Mace. That isn't to say I think you deserve it. I would rather see you behind bars than six feet under."

"Then allow me to make this simpler for you." His horn ignited in its signature hue, and what was previously numerous armed sentries ready to unload the capacity of their guns onto us instead digitally glitched and slowly vanished into thin air from the ground up, revealing each and every pony apart from him to have simply been a hologram the whole time.

Opening his eyes, Armet Mace drifted them to us with a neutral, calculating stare and spoke softly, yet with a dark timbre to it. "And here I was thinking we were acquaintances, Shadow. Friends, even. Yet here you are, stomping on my parade, ruining my vision from my university years."

"Your wish is one of suicide," Shadow retorted, starting to move slowly down toward the unicorn. "Let me promise you when I say my Navy, the Marine Corps, my friends and coworkers, we will rain fiery hell upon you and every last soul working for you."

I chimed in right after the captain as I followed him down. "And what is all of this necessary for? You've killed thousands, caused billions in destruction, and pissed off the entire country's armed forces!"

Armet smirked again at that. "Thousands mean nothing in the grand scheme, Star. But it's all to shelter millions more."

"From what? Their right of freedom?"

Almost immediately cutting me off, Armet raised his voice, booming across the eerily empty bridge. "War, disease, poverty! The three sins! I would think you'd consider the idea that it's only a matter of time before this country spills over its own walls due to overpopulation, at our rate of growth? Give it a few decades. I am trying to prevent a political and ecological disaster!"

"By causing one," I scoffed. "Gotcha."

"Besides," Armet continued, darting a glare my way. "I've proven a point yet again."

"Proven what point?" Shadow questioned, halting just short of the last step. "That you are batshit crazy and belong in an asylum?"

"How incompetent our so-called protectors are, severe oversight in our government, an absurd lack of the latest and the greatest technology to move forward with." Armet then pointed at Shadow, followed by me. "I am talking about you, and you. And Equestria's entire department of defense."

Shadow blinked, beginning to lower his gun slowly and stand up straight. "I don't follow. What the hell are you talking about?"

The captain's gesture widened Armet's smirk some more. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would, actually, just to confirm if you are that level of insane," groused Shadow.

Simpering at the earth stallion's retort, Armet turned around and walked forward to his command console. Shadow drew his sidearm once more as precaution, just in case the unicorn tries to pull something out from under his sleeve a third time. Instead, the two of us watched as he typed away on a holographic keyboard, which eventually led to the large screen at the far side of the bridge to display various pieces of raw footage from copious gunfights.

But these weren't any random battles, and certainly not any from the last 48 hours. No, these were something else. Seeing this trauma show up on the display before my very eyes somehow compelled me to stand down, almost to the point of dropping my SCAR to the floor.

There, on the screen, was video in full color of the fight aboard the Eclipse, on the flight deck against the Great Gryphon Constitution. In the shot, roughly ten ponies—Lunar Marines and sailors—tirelessly defended from an onslaught of boarding insurgents trying to reach the bridge. One of them, a white pegasus, dropped to the ground and bled from his shoulder, grasping it as a moss-green stallion rushed to his aid, followed by a grey pony in blacked-out gear.

I recognized those three. The first, Anchorage, as well as Ashfall and Arc Nobis. This was when the former took a round to the shoulder but powered through with somewhat above-average strength than one would expect. Why would Armet show this to us? But the better question is...

"How did you get your hooves on top-secret footage, Armet?!" Shadow barked, essentially finishing my query for me.

"Why, I am simply answering your question, old pal," Armet nickered, turning halfway to face us. "Is this not what you wanted?"

"I—" Before Shadow could continue, a new picture transitioned from the carrier feed. This time, it was a security camera overlooking a vacant city block with the silhouettes of what appeared to be a small squadron of Lunar Marines moving alongside a storefront discreetly before chaos erupts. An explosion rocked the storefront, distorting the recording and freezing the picture just past the camera refocusing onto a dismembered pony thrown ten feet into the open street by the blast.

This scenario was familiar, too, except I couldn't quite put my hoof on it as quickly as the flight deck fight. It came to me after a short while, realizing it to be the last push against the Constitution when they so foolishly invaded our shores. The explosion originated from a rocket fired by a griffon in a nearby tower, the very one I shot down moments after.

"Fast forward, seven months later, and here we are! Failing to protect your precious city and your beloved country once more! How does that make you feel, Captain?!" Armet shouted, awaiting an immediate response that never came other than a cold glare from Shadow.

His attention shifted to me not long after. "What about you, Corporal? Does it make you just... furious... to know I've beaten you twice?!"

Twice?

No... it couldn't have been. Could it?

"You... led the attacks? The Constitution?! Everything before and after, that was all you?!"

Armet blinked twice, bursting into a short cackle. "But of course! They would not have done it had I not taken care of some business beforehand, and I must say, their brave and courageous leader went to no end to defend his dignity before his followers."

Shadow narrowed his eyes further onto the psycho-unicorn. "You confronted him personally?"

Armet nodded once, widening his grin with self-pride. "I did. And after I eliminated the commander, they started taking orders from me. I offered the one thing they could not refuse; money and weaponry to combat one of the largest armies in the world."

The captain grunted lowly. "That would explain there not being any reports of activity from their channels all that time."

“Yes, heheheh. They had all that needed to take the city while your military foolishly followed a dead lead elsewhere.”

Gradually, I felt the fury in me begin to churn faster and deeper, all while a figurative knife carved a hole in my chest and stabbed at my own dwindling sanity. “Why? What on earth was your goal?!”

Armet stomped his hoof, the sound enhanced by the wide-open room. “I did it for a damn good reason! To show the world how weak and feeble our forces are! It was merely a test.”

“What test? They were absolutely no match for us, whether or not they had the upper hoof. We knew the ground they stepped on more than they did!”

“A test for the real thing, heheh," Armet smiled insanely. "You’ll catch up soon. Besides, the attacks were just merely scratching the surface of my plans!”

“And what would those plans be, hmm?" I said, shaking in my anger. "There shouldn’t be any holding back any more, since we already know you are behind this.”

"You were always the curious type, weren't you, Star?" nickered Armet, standing from his chair and strolling slowly up the steps we stood on.

“Once the dust settles, a new dawn shall arise over this once-glistening metropolis. But the age of century, even millennia-old infrastructure is long over. It is time that we all take a step… into the future, for once I am done, I shall provide a safe haven for these blinkered fools. They will have no choice to live in my Neopolis once they see how well guarded it will be in the next threat to make landfall on Equestrian soil.”

I cocked my head, raising a furious eyebrow. “Neopolis?”

Armet leaned his muzzle closer to mine with a half-lidded, conniving smile, before strolling back down toward his console. “The city of the future.”

After finishing, a light beeping of an alert rang out from a nearby computer console. The moderate tone crept a smirk back to Armet's muzzle.

"Now, I know a little pony with plenty of magic to go around. All that untapped power kept to himself with enough to go around for hundreds of others. You know exactly who I am talking about, Star."

That same second, the large display along the far wall of the bridge enhanced an eerily clear picture of a particular unicorn close to me. My breath caught and I stared, wide-eyed, as the camera focusing on him belonging to a Collector drone was merely ten feet away.

It was evident our forces were giving it their all to repel the titanium beast, but to little avail. I watched as two Marines instantly vanished into dust as they were shot by concentrated beams of gamma, and their guns simply clattering to the ground as if they hadn't belonged to somepony a moment prior.

Shadow's teeth clenched, lurching forward to shove Armet back in a somewhat protective manner. He too was beginning to grow impatient. "Absolutely none of this is necessary, Armet! Your company's contributions to the betterment of ponykind, was it all for nothing?"

"But this is necessary, Captain, and it isn't for nothing. The enemies that are ourselves; our own neighbors, backstabbers, all of them! You'll catch up one day, I trust you will, only late as usual. You should get with the times, Shadow."

Between exchanges, Javelin's yelling rang out in our earpieces. "What ever you are doing up there, if you can still hear the sound of my voice, hurry it up! We are getting overrun down here!"

It was this warning that prompted the captain to move things along quicker. "You know what, I've had it up to here. Star, restrain him," Shadow sternly ordered, glancing back to me.

Without a moment of hesitation, I sauntered toward the maroon unicorn. It was about damn time Shadow said something. This should have been over from the moment we stepped hoof on the bridge.

As predicted, Armet backstepped to continue his obnoxiously long speech. “You see, there was, and still is reason behind naming Vengeance. It is to get revenge for all of my brilliant ideas, thwarted by you lot! I shall not let you take me in just yet!”

Shadow rolled his eyes, pulling up beside me. "Well, we are here now. You won't get away this time. What are you going to do now?"

Before any answer could be given, a panel in the floor behind Armet parted in the center, making way for a rising platform that steadily lifted. On it, a sight that brought horror to both of our eyes.

With a sinister smile, Armet stepped just to the side to fully reveal what he would consider a work of art. To me and Shadow, it was anything but. "I saved the best part for you, Captain."

As Shadow's brown eyes scanned over the heavily-enhanced monstrosity that was Arc Nobis, the latter's eyes opened, glowing a horrifying purple hue that carved like lasers into our souls, sending a chill running up my own spine once again. "What did you do to my friend?!" he cried in a tone of fury I have never heard come from his mouth.

"Simple. I took him from you, and made him a thousand times better." Armet nickered smugly. "And now he will shed the blood of you and your subordinates, one by one, until no one under your command is left breathing. Nothing and nopony will stop him!"

Tears welled in Shadow's ducts. This was his best friend, turned into a weapon for evil intentions. His reaction was mixed, torn between compassion for the stallion he was close to and the rage building inside for what he was forced to become.

That's when he lowered himself into a defensive stance. "I can," he mumbled, perking my ears and garnering a scoff from the maroon unicorn.

"I don't share your confidence, Captain. But, by all means, you are welcome to tr—"

BANG.

The barrel of Shadow's sidearm smoked following a singular discharge, promptly silencing Armet with his maw still parted. The unicorn's form began to tremble. Gradually his gaze fell to his chest where the bullet sliced right through his suit vest, spilling a dark ichor that stained the white material surrounding the entry point.

In a moment's notice, the captain had speedily drawn his pistol and shot Armet before he had the chance to even notice the weapon be removed from its holster and properly defend himself. I observed with shock and awe as the wounded pony collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud of his cheek smacking the metallic paneling, rendering him unconscious and dying.

Shadow panted softly, slowly retracting his gun and firmly holstering it on his utility belt, all without so much as removing his sights from the second lieutenant. The shot set off a neural message in Arc's helmet, ordering him to attack. In response, Shadow dipped himself into a defensive stance, waiting for the first move.

He then dug into his pouch, pitching the flash drive over to me. "You get Javelin patched into the ship's mainframe while I keep Arc distracted, okay?"

Fumbling with the little device for a moment, I briefly looked down at it in my hoof, then up to the captain with notable concern across my countenance. "What about you? You can't fight him alone!"

That's when he turned over his shoulder, blinking once neutrally. "Yes I can, Star. I know his weak spots under that suit. Go!"

Without sparing a second for reluctance, I hurried up the shallow staircase to a vacant console on the left side of the center aisle, kicking the chair out of the way to make adequate standing room. That same instance, the grunts of Shadow swiveled my ear in his general direction as he began to wrestle with the corrupted stallion.

Presuming there to be as little time as possible to succeed, I chose not to watch from afar. As soon as my sights lifted when I settled into position, however, my eyes grew as wide as saucepans the moment something else absolutely terrifying enlarged on the screen in front of me.

"Holy shit, Javelin... V-Vengeance's targeting system is lighting up the entire region. It's locating hundreds by the second, and most of them are here in Manehattan!" I could barely speak, having the breath escape me when my attention was abruptly brought up to speed of GenTech's next move; mass genocide.

"Hold on... targeting for what?"

"To fire upon." I started typing away, working to pan out the map for a wider view. My heart sank at the sight as it appeared. "Oh my god. They are planning to shoot up the entire country."

"Give me some cities, ma-maybe we can spread word just in case," sputtered Javelin in effort to contain some of his panic.

Most names on the bluescale map vanished beneath the swarms of reds and yellows as they popped up and duplicated seemingly every time I were to blink, though recognizing actual locations by positioning was not difficult in the slightest. Thank goodness for those extra geography classes back in high school.

"Baltimare, Alderneigh, Canterlot, Ponyville, Mareami... you name it, it is on here. And there is a countdown, too."

"For how long?"

"About fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds."

That brought a relieved sigh out of the tech officer, much to my surprise. "All right, plenty of time, plenty of time. Okay, do you see a port?"

"A what?" I blinked.

"A port! You know, to plug the drive in?!"

"Oh! Oh!" I quickly scanned over the desktop, locating a thin rectangular box with four vacant slots to stick the flash drive into. With it in my hoof, I shoved it forward, only for it to not insert. Turning it over, I went for a second attempt, but met with similar results.

Groaning in exasperation, I twisted the drive a second time and shoved it into a different hole, where it clicked into place, and a small green light on the tip blinked. "I got it!"

"All right, perfect. Use the mousepad to scroll to the bar at the bottom of the screen and open the main menu, type 'command console' into the search bar with the keyboard, then click on the first option that shows up!"

"Right, okay!" I responded, darting around for the mouse controls. On this computer console, it consisted of a simple touchscreen surrounded by the keyboard itself. All of it was in one way or another holographic in nature, even the screen itself.

"You see it? The menu?"

With a single click, the window opened on the center of the screen. "Yes, I have it right here. You said type 'command console', right?"

"Yes, yes, that's right," he replied speedily. "Use the keyboard to type 'command console', then press the enter key."

That was moderately annoying. Without questioning his need to repeat instructions in such detail, I followed his directions down to the T. The first option in the search bar was the command console program, double-clicking to open.

Javelin, however, was behind on it only a little. "When you finish typing it in, click on the first option and it will open!"

I finally snapped. "Javelin, I know how to use a fucking computer! I'm not fucking seventy and are clueless to how technology works, okay?!"

There was a short silence before he replied. "Well, if you put it like that, fine. Sheesh."

With a second to cool myself down, I let off a sharp breath as sweat slicked my forehead, peeking just past the screen to check on Shadow and Arc, only to see the two still dueling it out at the bottom.

Shadow landed a couple of hard punches to Arc's jawline, throwing his head sideways and even causing him to stagger some. There were some signs of restraint in the second lieutenant's moves, such as when he hooked at Shadow. It seemed as though most of his hits were missing on purpose, though a couple of swings did catch into Shadow's shoulder blade and even his barrel, knocking him sideways a few feet only to leap right back up on all fours.

Not exactly the greatest distraction while I subconsciously worked, prompting me to return my attention to the screen. "All right, it's open. Now what?"

At first, all I could hear over the fighting in the room was Javelin's hooves speedily typing away at his laptop. "Aaaand... I'm in! All right, wonderful. Thank you, Star. Make sure I stay plugged in for the next few minutes while I work."

As he finished, an alert appeared in center of every screen on the bridge, raising both the ship's alarm and my own. "Might want to make that just a couple of minutes there, buddy. The system detected external intrusion and sped up the countdown!"

"Yeah, yeah, I can see that now," Javelin grunted in frustration. "I've already got two of the override keys right here in front of me, but Armet made certain to have six to initiate a cease fire protocol. It will be at least five minutes while it generates."

In an effort to calm some of our nerves just a bit, he then added, "Worst case, the countdown could simply be when the final targets are assigned this sweep."

"Don't trust it, Techie! Keep working at it!" groaned Shadow from below, presently in a back-and-forth struggle pitting his strength against the second lieutenant's, whose clearly was superior only thanks to his armor enhancements.

Very gradually, Arc Nobis began to overpower the captain and push him backwards. At any rate, this would lead to Shadow's hinds slipping and Arc having the high ground over him, allowing him the opportunity to kill him. Not willing to let this happen, however, Shadow purposefully eased off his struggle to let the second lieutenant stumble over. He slipped down underneath as Arc fell forward, only to catch his hoofing just before he could fully collapse.

Turning around to face Shadow once more, immediately the strong hook of the captain smashed into Arc's jaw, throwing his head to the side and sending him staggering back a few more steps. Without letting off the assaults, Shadow advanced further upon his friend-turned-enemy, delivering a swift jab to the chest that harmlessly deflected off the heavy plating, doing so to distract Arc briefly while he dealt a firm uppercut that knocked the grey stallion onto his back with a soft guttural utterance.

It pained my patience to just sit back and let this unfold without intervening, though it would do us no good should Javelin's hack is disrupted for any reason that should have been under my scrutiny. While it came as some relief to see that the second lieutenant's rightful conscience retained partial control over his acts, allowing Shadow reasonable leeway to hold himself back from reaching me, at any moment I expected something to give.

"Just three more... then I'll have it..." uttered Javelin, still rapidly typing away. His actions were apparent from up here, too, noting the slight screen distortion that would occasionally appear on each of the monitors on the bridge.

"Copy. Make it quick, Javelin. We're almost there," I said, narrowing my eyes on the countdown as it passed the two-minute mark into one minute and fifty-nine seconds.

"Shit, fuck!" he cursed. My blood ran cold at the words that followed. "I-I'm sorry, Star, I have to hold off. It isn't safe here anymore."

"What?" My eyes widened, blinking. "No, no, wait! We aren't done here!"

"See if you can buy me a couple minutes while I post up someplace out of harm's way." Those were the last words to come through comms channel.

"Javelin? Javelin!" I called repeatedly, garnering total silence from his end. "Fuck!" I smacked the desktop with my hoof, leaning over it contemplatively as a pounding migraine throbbed at my temples.

Looking up at the monitor slowly, it was evident that Javelin's computer was still remotely disconnected, but the consistent battering of false information producing the deactivation keys had ceased. It hit me after a couple of seconds that, with his laptop virtually in total control over this station and very well perhaps the entire ship, that it was possible for me to finish the job for him.

Frankly, I didn't know jack shit about computers apart from how to use them. All of this, all of what Javelin did for a living was miles above my pay grade. How can I be certain I won't fuck this up and kill thousands in the process?

But then again, how can I be so critical of my abilities? I learned how to fly purely out of danger-induced adrenaline. Perhaps I could use some of that good luck here.

Drawing in a deep breath to ease tension in my body, relaxing my shoulders and standing up straight before the console, I went to work. Reopening the command window, typing in a few simple words did just the trick. Doing this cracked the rather thin extra layer of firewall guarding Armet's personal station at the bottom of the room.

The higher concentration put into locating some sort of built-in fail safe finally allowed me to take part of my focus off of Arc and Shadow going at it some fifteen feet away, tuning out the crashing of Shadow being tossed straight through a glass table and destroying two computers as a result. At the same time, one part of me subconsciously monitored the countdown clock as it dipped below forty seconds remaining.

My hooves moved faster than I can recall ever doing, rapidly pressing key after key in desperation. It had to be here somewhere. I know it did. No piece of machinery as large and advanced as Vengeance would ever go without some sort of fail safe.

Down below, the cries of the captain continuously battling his closest friend broke through my concentration partially. It was now somewhat noticeable that even Shadow could not hold out for much longer, prompting me to work only faster and attempt any shortcuts along the way.

"Nngh... Nobis! I know you can hear me! I know the real you is in there somewhere!" Shadow grunted, tightly grasping the downward-pressing hoof of the second lieutenant as he strained to hold it off of his chest. Arc now had him where he wanted to, and that was beneath him.

His other free hoof came up, smacking one of Shadow's to lose its grip and quickly pinning it effortlessly under his own. With only half the strength put into defending himself, all Shadow could do was dodge his head left and right as Arc attempted to stomp down on it, each time smashing holes in the granite floor panel mere inches from Shadow's cheeks.

Sweat slicked my forehead, collecting enough to the point where droplets trickled off onto the floor without a spare moment to wipe myself down. The countdown was now at twenty-five seconds, and never has my stomach twisted into so many knots. We were a hair from victory at this point, and as much as it left an ache in my chest to neglect Shadow's present predicament, the well-beings of millions came first.

But then, after numerous attempts at searching every nook and cranny of Armet's station, I found it. At least four separate warning labels hovered around the input key which, to my relief, had typed itself in as if instructed to. For a good couple of moments, I stared in total silence as my mind came to an ultimate decision.

With one click, followed by a second for confirmation, it was done. "I... I did it!" I threw a hoof up in celebration, blinking twice as I continued to anxiously watch the countdown clock tick on. "I think? Please?!"

After five more uneasy seconds spent staring at the screen with wide, anticipating eyes, I could breathe a sigh of relief at last when the countdown halted at fifteen seconds precisely. The sudden rush of respite brushed over like the cool ocean's waves on a hot summer afternoon, quite nearly knocking me off my hooves.

Panting heavily, my forehead pressed to the glass surface just below the keyboard. For a second, only a second, my mind was clear with white noise. It might have been fatigue as consequence of constantly working myself up as the situation progressed in addition to essentially being awake for four days straight.

Quite honestly, the first thing to enter my mind was a mental comment on how refreshing a plain, hot cup of coffee sounded right about now.

"Heh... heheh... you can't kill me that easily..." came a grunted voice from the right.

Peering around the hologram screen, I noted Armet Mace gradually raising himself upright, popping the buttons to his vest to reveal a grey undershirt, stained faintly by small bloody splotches underneath. "Carbon fiber mesh no thicker than y-your average shirt, a-and it works to catch bullets! Just... have to work out the kinks to prevent damage to flesh," he groaned out.

Armet panted heavily as he shakily propped himself up, barely able to lift his rear off the floor. "Soon... the Modon bombers will take to the skies! It will be the beginning of a new age from sea to shining sea!"

Right then, an alarm rang out across the bridge. Red lights swirled along the walls, signaling danger. Across the room, on the massive digital display, an alert in a red box warned of loss of engine control, subsequently followed by an enormous jolt that threw everypony to the floor, freeing Shadow of Arc's death grip. Vengeance was beginning to fall from the sky.

Frantically looking around, Armet shouted at the top of his lungs, "What did you do?!"

"Stopping the apocalypse!" I returned, hauling myself up by the edge of the glass desk. Perhaps my response was a bit dramatic, though it felt strangely heroic to say in a real world scenario.

"You bastard! This isn't over! It's never over!" the wine-coated stallion hissed, grasping his presumably-bruised chest where Shadow's bullet caught into his ballistic undershirt and threateningly igniting his horn in a thick golden hue. Another heavy shudder of the ship prompted Armet to once more study his surroundings, realizing staying put to fight simply was not worth the trouble, and made a beeline for a one-pony elevator to his near right.

Essentially throwing myself over the tabletop into the center aisle, I engaged in chase after him, yelling, "Hey, hey!" only to be stopped by the elevator doors shutting between the two of us.

Leaping to all fours, Shadow called from the first step leading to the passageway out of the bridge as sparks flew from the ceiling, "Leave him, we need to get the hell out of here!"

***

Batterneigh Park had quickly become the last defending point from GenTech drones, and even that would soon change. Ammunition among Marines was dangerously low, but none could be conserved at that time. A mere twenty feet from the waterline, making a retreating swim had long escaped the boundaries of impossibility. Each passing second cost them more ground to stand on.

One Collector pushed forth, preparing its gamma blasters for a widespread assault against its attackers. With little cover to come by, their only options at that point were to make a final jump into the harbor, or suffer sudden death by vaporization.

Then, without warning, it powered down. Marines left and right could catch their breath once more, watching as dozens more abruptly shut down with some collapsing to the dirt with heavy thuds. Puzzled, looks were exchanged among one another.

The booming pops of distant explosions from above attracted the immediate attention of many on the ground soon after. All eyes then turned skyward as a subsequent deep humming drew nearer. It was Vengeance.

It descended rapidly through the clouds carving a massive hole in the white blanket shaped like an arrowhead with one of its main engines at the stern and a large swath of the bow emitting trails of thick smoke. Traces of vapor licked along Vengeance's lower hull as it shoved clouds out of the way, speeding down toward the city.

A shadow cast over Batterneigh when the ship crossed over land, set on a direct and rather ironic collision course with GenTech Tower. Vengeance slashed into the northeast face of the ninetieth floor, cutting through its concrete and steel frame and glass facade like a butter knife.

Moments after clearing the severely damaged skyscraper, Vengeance crossed over open river water just west of the joint base. Its remaining engines glowed brightly mere seconds before a massive blast sourcing from its hypernuclear cores ripped the craft to pieces.

The explosion in its spectacularity of mixing blues and oranges swept across the entire sky, shoving aside continents of clouds or completely dispersing them. The force of the shock sent gusts with the strength of a gale blasting down upon Manehattan, further collapsing unstable rooftops of smaller structures and creating a brief sandstorm that carried across the region for miles. Chunks of Vengeance blasted into the upper troposphere now rained down, crashing into the sides of skyscrapers or splashing down in the harbor.

Intense turbulence resulting from the ship's destruction compromised the upper floors of GenTech Tower's integrity, and the final beams holding the structure in place finally gave way. The building's roof fell sideways, crashing through the stories below and engulfing the entire frame in a thick cloud of dust that shoved downwards.

Ponies on the ground ran for their lives in all directions. The area had been predominantly clear due to earlier evacuations, although the unlucky few to have still been within a block's vicinity had much more to worry about than another collapsing building. The remains of the tower's top floors crashed down onto smaller, older structures across the street, crushing them instantly and anypony to have still been inside.

What was once the tallest skyscraper in Manehattan, and all of Equestria, now reduced itself to nothing more than a heap of twisted steel and smashed cement, taking every last piece of revolutionary technology inside with it.

***

Months, even years of planning, on top of trillions of bits devoted to research and development, all gone to waste. The maroon unicorn could only sit and watch from the safety of his personal parachute as his most prized creation, two years in the making, vanished into tremendous fireball.

Just seconds from his hooves touching the ground, Armet Mace checked his landing site for obscurities. The sight before his eyes rang the true bells of defeat in his head as an entire squadron of griffon soldiers and Lunar Marines encompassed a semicircle in front of him, each with their rifles drawn and aimed directly at him.

Now safe on the ground, Shadow hopped off my back. Both of our chests heaved as the exhaustion following nonstop adrenaline caught up to us. Despite wobbly limbs, threatening to give out at any second, somehow I retained what little strength was left in me to keep myself upright and watch this arrest take place, as overdue as it was.

"Just where do you think you were going to go next, you sneaky little weasel?" snarled Zjitzo intimidatingly, inching forward at the wine unicorn stallion, who slowly raised his hooves in surrender.

At long last, his mission was complete. Everypony's was.

Author's Note

And there it is. The conclusion of Eye of the Storm's final climax.

One more chapter until the story finishes.

50. Semper Fidelis

The sticky mid-summer air transformed the crumbling remains what was formerly a bright city on the pristine northeast coast into essentially a sauna that carried on for miles on end, as far as the eye can see, blanketing the land with a yellowish-grey haze as a result of the thick moisture mixed into the atmosphere.

Beneath the bright sun, I sweltered under my BDUs, and inside my cover every follicle of my sky-blue mane quickly became as damp as a towel fresh out of the washing machine. Strands of my hair clumped together and stuck to my sweat-slicked forehead, not-so-miraculously the only shaded region of my face. I can't tell which was worse—direct sunlight, or dark clothes to 'protect' me from said sunlight.

We are a damn night branch; why for the love of all things good must we suffer in 90-degree heat in black and grey clothing? Yeah, we can roll up our sleeves. So what? It does squat in the long run.

In the days that slowly chugged on by since final contact with GenTech, some rescue efforts turned into simply search and recovery. The chances of discovering somepony still alive dwindled as time passed, though hope could not be given up just yet. Not much of it remained, quite honestly, but some optimism had to be there to control my thinning sanity while it fractured deeply under the heavy weight of stress and fatigue—two things that were eating away at the little ounce of energy keeping me moving.

Elsewhere along the coast, in areas unprotected by forcefields similar to that of the one conjured in lower Manehattan, seawater sloshed a quarter mile to a half mile inland in some lower-elevated parts of east Equestria. While crests did not top out nearly as high as they did in Trotson Bay, a good forty percent of oceanfront property in towns and cities along the Antlertic sustained minor to moderate damage.

The majority of the tsunami's harm affected marine vessels moored in marinas and ports as they were smashed up into docks or carried inland. Word came from Alderneigh that one of the ferries that services small fishing communities—including Anchorage's home town—had washed a block into downtown, but miraculously was still fully functional in the aftermath.

But back on our own turf, the recovery efforts are just the start of the lengthy road ahead. Aid from every corner of the globe began pouring into the harbor in the immediate hours after the first and definite all-clear was given by authorities. One runway at Manehattan International reopened after countless safety inspections and patching efforts to seal potentially dangerous fractures in the surface, subsequently allowing cargo planes to touch down for the first time in a week.

Major carriers such as Equestrian and Everfree Airlines brought in jumbo jets refitted to comfortably transport hundreds of victims at a time to cities willing to take those in need of medical assistance while the remaining Manehattan-area hospitals strive to return to full operational status and lift the 'code black' blanket across the local region.

While I moved around, the faint, gentle taps of a hoof against concrete perked my ears attentively. Immediately I stopped in my search, freezing completely with only the slightest of movements of my head to scan my surroundings. A few others had taken notice and acted similarly, which was protocol for recovery operations.

The noise started and stopped. Started and stopped. Tap, tap. Tap, tap. It wasn't precisely code for SOS, but in this situation, any sound not made by one of us would be considered a cry for help if the victim is too weak to properly scream.

It took a couple of moments to pinpoint the source. When it came to me, I rushed over, minding each and every hasty stride taken in order to avoid shifting the rubble. Starting with smaller pieces, I began moving or even throwing chunks of concrete, some of which with reinforcing rebar mixed in, until an opening appeared and a hoof shakily reached through.

Letting out a soft gasp of realization, I snapped my head up and shouted. "I got one over here!"

With not a second of hesitation, a small group of firefighters hurried to me, bearing heavy tools known widely as the jaws of life, and were designed to bend steel or crumble cement if needed or simple jacks to raise otherwise unmovable objects.

Lighter debris was easily thrown off to the side before we were halted by a heavy slab of concrete by which the trapped victim was tapping against. The hoof, now more visible and shakily waving around, was taken by the gentle fire lieutenant in the base of his own gloved hoof as a gesture of reassurance.

All of this was in the former shadow of a ten-story apartment building, as noted by the bits and pieces of furniture and other household items and decorations strewn about among the wooden planks and severed, twisted pipes. Small pools of water gathered in some spots, created by the broken main and a burst fire hydrant now covered in debris.

Thankfully the mains throughout most of the city, gas included to our relief, had been long shut off to prevent further leaks. Simultaneously, this did not help firefighters combat the last remaining blazes burning since the first quake over a week ago.

Two more firefighters, an earth mare and a pegasus stallion, prepared the jaws of life and placed the claw-like clamps into a narrow gap between the girder and the pile that surrounded the trapped civilian. Taking the rear lever whilst maintaining a sturdy hold on the apparatus' center, the smaller of the duo grunted in effort as she put her might into opening the clamps. For her size, the mare packed far more strength than I would have credited her for—a rather impressive amount, at that.

To our dismay, it was not the right tool for the job. Upon closer inspection of the beam, it connected to another at a ninety-degree angle, with the bisecting side further buried under more rubble, leaving us with no choice but to take the severed end and lift it upward with adequate room to extract the victim.

"Shooter, on us!" the lieutenant barked, throwing his hoof around authoritatively between his subordinates. Four of us repositioned at our own spots on the slab's end while the lieutenant stood by, prepared to make haste in removing the trapped pony.

Should they be stuck further, and we just might need reinforcements to completely remove the debris before anything else can be done.

Alas, doing just that would be even trickier, knowing the slightest of movements might cause a shift in the rubble that can accidentally kill the victim.

"On three, lift! Got it?" the lieutenant instructed, garnering nods of acknowledgement by the four of us, grabbing onto the girder from underneath, two of us on each side. The stocky, older stallion bore his steel axe as a secondary device, just in case. "One, two, three!"

All at once, three firefighters and myself, put every ounce of our own weight into our arm muscles and even doubled it. A symphony of grunts emit from our position, gradually raising our end of the beam up off the ground, shifting smaller pieces of dust-covered wooden planks from destroyed shelves and pebbles that pelted down into the astonishingly small hole our victim became confined in.

Blood as it rushed to my head created a pressure that drowned out most noise around me, prompting me to close my eyes as it felt almost like they were ready to pop out of their sockets, and even a vein across my forehead pulsated, threatening to burst at any given moment.

Our efforts provided an extremely narrow passage for the lieutenant to slip down into the hole, smashing the bottom of his axe's handle into rubble pinning the victim's hinds and even prying open a couple more inches for them to be pulled free.

He looped the stallion's extended arm around his neck, lifting him up against his chest to cling on while he crawled out the other side, all in under forty seconds. At last, the four of us could drop the slab.

My chest heaved the moment it slammed back down, the jolt causing further filling of the tiny space with varying chunks of crumbled cement to replace the living being previously stuck under there for Luna knows how long. Relaxing myself allowed the headrush to diminish, though not without a subsequent and temporary migraine no more than a few seconds after the fact.

Opening my eyes for the first time let me see the victim's face as well. However, I wasn't quite as prepared for something as gruesome as what now sent my gut into a tailspin, and that was his blood-stained muzzle practically split in half at the tip, along with numerous bruises and infected lacerations up and down his torso. Even the lower half of his legs were lacking color, particularly due to lack of blood flow from being pinned for a prolonged period. To my relief and everypony else's, they seemed to be operational for the most part with the victim only reporting a faint numbness.

A couple of minutes were spent to thoroughly check over the patient's body for other unknown injuries while a squadron of pegasus paramedics working in tandem with Navy corpsponies flew in a light stretcher to haul the victim away on. Of the six medical centers in the Manehattan metropolitan area, only two sustained minimal damage and were functioning at some level of efficiency. A grave lack of resources and hooves on deck only made matters worse.

Shortly after the victim was airlifted elsewhere, myself and the firefighters returned to scouring the rubble of this particular building. At this point, the damage was so widespread that it was no longer clear if we were still searching the remains of one structure anymore.

As we sauntered about, minding every step taken, I was approached by a pegasus of a darker blue tone than that of my own coat.

"Corporal," the stallion uttered in order to grab my attention. My head turned first, followed by the rest of me as I spun to face him.

"Yes, Sergeant?" I responded, giving myself only a slight bit of an attention stance before my squad leader.

"How goes it?" he queried neutrally, presumably referring to the search.

My gaze drifted elsewhere to briefly scan our surroundings, inhaling a sharp yet quiet breath before answering. "Decent, I suppose. Three have been pulled so far this morning, who knows how many more are still here."

Sergeant Hardstaff nodded in acknowledgement of the situation, but also shrugged his shoulders. "I can't imagine many. Plenty of ponies got out safely in initial evacuation procedures, along with many more in later orders."

"There was no warning, however," I flapped my lips softly. "Not for the first one."

"Believe me, Corporal, it was the second tremor that did us in," he said, doing so in a moderately reassuring manner. "Sure, nopony anticipated this. There was nothing natural about it, we now know that."

I shook my head, primarily out of disappointment for the unlucky souls still out there, dying, awaiting rescue. "Unfortunately that does not alleviate much, not now."

"Tell me about it. I have quite a load on my plate as it is. An entire unit tasked to medical aid and moving ponies out of the city gave out a final distress call before their staff sergeant's locating beacon went dead. Their last known position is somewhere in this quadrant. Somewhere... under there," he sighed, glancing out over the devastation sparing no inch of city street for five whole blocks encompassing us.

The sergeant's head turned, blinking as he stared at me once more. "You sure you want to be out here any longer than you have been, Shooter? I counted the days myself, you've been up almost three days straight, assuming you even slept during the crisis."

I gawked silently for a couple of moments, puzzled, tilting my head. "Of course I do, Sergeant. I belong out here. This is part of the oath I took."

Hardstaff's expression turned somewhat stern. "I understand that, Corporal, but you must understand this; I cannot have my ponies out here overworking themselves to death, especially after all you have done on your lonesome."

"Yeah, but—"

"Go home, Corporal. Get some rest. You earned it long ago." His ice-blue cores narrowed scrutinizingly, failing to remove them from their lock on my own even as he began to turn away. "That is a direct order."

My brows lowered, ears swiveling sideways and slightly pinning back as his command dealt a soft, figurative blow. I strongly despised walking away in times of need as much as the next pony, though it just pulled up short of my disliking for insubordination.

Deep down, I recognized his concerns. Hardstaff ran a tight ship, and it was still his duty to care for those under his command; that was something I could easily respect about him, among other smaller details.

With some hesitation in my first steps, the sluggish nature of my movements coerced me into further agreement with the sergeant as I started off out of the area to find a place to crash, whether it be a nearby command tent, or I somehow muster the strength to haul my sagging ass over to base; something I have not laid eyes on in weeks.

***

Arc's lifeless form landed on the metallic table with a heavy clunk of his armor, eyes shut, mouth closed. Two Navy corpsponies surrounded the stallion, his hooves limply hanging off the edges, clueless at first on where to begin. Off to the side, a lone Marine with a tablet held in a blue magical aura, focused on the screen as his hoof swirled across it.

Minutes after his arrival, the doors into the moderately-sized, windowless operation chamber burst open as a greenish-grey earth stallion ranking at captain rushed in. The sudden entrance startled both corpsponies, as well as prompting them to respectfully greet the commanding officer that he ultimately dismissed.

His distressed brown cores carried over the motionless pony he considered to be one of his closest friends. It had been days since the explosion, and after bailing from the falling ship, nothing of Arc Nobis was seen since—until now. "Is he alive?" Shadow huffed out, the run from halfway across base now having caught up with him.

"The Coast Guard fished him out of the river just this morning, sir," began one of the corpsponies. "They detected a weak pulse but nothing more, not even slight respiratory activity. Strangely enough, the patch of water he floated in was discovered to be radioactive in nature. Nonlethal levels for a short exposure, mind you, but no one truly knows how long Nobis was subject to it."

"So... regardless, he's done for?" Shadow uttered, blinking in order to wave off the tears that gathered in his eyes. He did well enough to mask the hurt in him, he was not about to let it show now.

"Not necessarily," chimed Javelin to his right, approaching with the tablet still his primary focus until he pulled up short. "Somehow, what ever alloys his armor plating was made out of, it absorbed most if not all of the radiation, transforming it into energy, which appears to be what kept his life support active for as long as it did. He is completely clean, Captain."

The captain grunted softly, scanning his eyes over the futuristic battlesuit his presumably deceased friend had been forcibly encased in. It left him furious to merely think about what Armet Mace did to him prior to involuntary reconditioning.

"I wonder what he thinks they're going to do to him? Because I want to do something worse." He sighed shakily, closing his eyes and pressing a hoof to his forehead in discernible pain, sitting back onto a small stool with a groan. "All... is lost."

Javelin's eyes narrowed some, lips curling downward. "Captain, the second lieutenant isn't fully brain dead to be considered so—"

Shadow lifted his head some, flicking an exhausted glare over at the maroon unicorn. "Oh, come on, Specialist, don't give me that technical shit. They have him wired to the hippocampus for Celestia's sake! How can't he be brain dead?"

"If you would have listened, Captain, you would have heard me say he is merely dormant in the mind," replied Javelin curtly, disregarding respect for just that moment.

The captain rose from the stool, eyeballing the unicorn questionably. "Spill it, Techie. What do you mean he's 'dormant'?"

"He is still very much alive, but he does not have a conscience in his body. The one Armet controlled him with was erased when the mainframe rebooted and disconnected, causing the ship to go down. But, theoretically, it is possible to bring him back."

"How?" Shadow blinked, perplexed by these claims. "The GenTech servers were destroyed in Vengeance's crash, not to mention the ones in the building when it collapsed."

In almost immediate response, the maroon unicorn raised his hoof with a smile. In it sat a flash drive much alike the one he sent up with them. "That may be so, but in the hack I also copied what I could, and guess what? When I went through the files on my personal computer, I picked up an SOS in the form of binary code. It was Nobis. His old conscience is right here, and he is calling for help."

At that, the naval captain leaped up off of his bed onto all fours with eyes as large as an insect's. "Can we do anything about it?" Shadow's query was immediately responded to by a nod of the tech officer's head. "W-well... let's get him back, right this second!"

The smile on Javelin's muzzle could only widen. "Aye, sir. But I will need your help getting what we need."

Shadow nodded once, heart pounding away at the walls of his chest. "Of course. Name it, and I'll get it done."

***

"I'm..." Night paused, looking up at the ceiling and drawing in a deep breath. "...out of commission for a while, Star."

I blinked, feeling my heart skip a beat out of concern. "How long is, 'a while'?"

"At least thirty more days. They want to make sure anything jutted out of place when the beam struck me heals on its own, and as little movement as possible to prevent accidentally causing more damage to my spine."

My ears lost their attentive perk. I spoke softly, "Will... you be able to walk again?"

The brown draft stallion offered a gentle smile. "Of course. They have assured me some of the best in this field are keeping a close eye on me. I trust their word."

At that, I gave a small, singular nod. "Then I do, too," I said with a simper. "It is a shame, though. I was going to gather the guys in a couple of days to make an announcement, and... I wanted you to be there."

Night's lips curled wider some. "Sorry, man. Doctor's orders."

I nodded again, this time in acknowledgement. "I know, I know. The last thing I want is for you to prematurely leave bedrest."

"Oh, believe me, I would just get my ass right up out of this sorry excuse of a bed if it didn't mean risking paralyzing myself," he joked, bringing a soft mutual chuckle out of me. He sighed afterward. "I miss normal food, too."

"What do they have you on in here?" I questioned. "Not ice cubes and cherries, I hope?"

Night shook his head gently, so as to not disturb his spinal cord. "Year-old, stale-ass apple cornbread and tuna MREs."

The thought of tuna made my stomach churn uncomfortably and caused me to audibly gag in my throat. I hated tuna with a passion. Poor Nightpath for having to put up with it, especially in MREs, where everyday tasty meals take a trip to the sewage plant.

"Alas, resources are low, so they've gotta feed us the low-demand shit while it is abundant," he groaned. "Sucks ass, but we have to live with it for now."

I could only nod in concurrence. "But you get the luxury of staying in bed all day long," I quipped, smirking.

Night rolled his eyes, a wily grin on his muzzle. "Yeah, where it stays a steady ninety-two degrees from ten 'til eight and nothing but tower fans to keep us from burning alive."

I snorted. "Hey, that's better than standing out under the beating sun in full gear, shoving shit around to get it off of ponies that are under your very hooves."

"Touche," he exhaled softly. He rested his head back, closing his eyes. "So, what are you going to do now?"

My sights lifted from the bed toward the tent's only open walkway to the outside. "Find a way back into the city, I have to look for somepony and give them something I have long owed them."

Night opened his eyes, turning his head just a little to look at me. "Oh yeah? What would that be?"

***

Heartbreak. It was the only feeling permeating the otherwise emptiness of the light tan unicorn's essence. Her world had come crashing down in a matter of hours, leaving her to futilely pick up the pieces of her previously stress-free life.

She gazed out sorrowfully over her life's work, years of stressful classes and countless dead end loans in the making, reduced to nothing but a massive pile of rubble beneath an unstable structure threatening to topple over further and add to the destruction around her.

"Doctor Pastel?" my voice called from some feet behind her. The frizzled mare turned over her shoulder, blinking in mild surprise as she caught me on approach.

"Star Shooter," she said, sniffling heavily and parting a strand of her mane out of her eye. "What a... pleasant surprise. I am relieved to see you are okay."

"Likewise, Doc," I nodded once, briefly darting my eyes behind her and acknowledging the loss of her establishment. "I'm sorry about your office."

Pastel let off a shaky sigh, dipping her head. "It is alright, we had a... decent run," she remarked with evident undisclosed information in mind.

That made my heart stop. I knew precisely what she meant, though I thought of it as courteous to seem clueless. "What are you talking about? Aren't you staying in business?"

The fawn-coated unicorn choked up some. She hurt deep down, I could discern that from a mile away. Face to face, she seemed like a total emotional wreck; and it made sense why.

"I'm afraid... doing that just is not possible. Rent skyrocketed thanks to a rise of land value because of GenTech, little advertisement brought in too few clients, not to mention my absolutely stupid decision to try and reason with the insurance companies with veterans under their wings!" She stomped her hoof into a wooden plank beneath her, snapping it in half. "Just... so stupid of me."

Singular tears dripped onto the ground at her hooves, damply matting down the fur on her cheeks. "I am terribly sorry f-for the inconveniences, Star. I truly am. I wish things worked out much differently than they have in recent months, and it is no one's fault but my own—"

She ultimately froze in speech at my outreached hoof, offering a simple white envelope. Her bloodshot, tear-glazed orange cores shakily met my steady crimson stare.

"It isn't a lot, probably not enough to get your office back, but I hope it can keep you afloat long enough to get back on your hooves," I said softly, a warm smile pursing my lips. "I trust that you shall do well with this money, and that what happened will not again. I want you to stay in business. Your word is what is keeping me from offing myself, Pastel. I cannot afford to lose your expertise."

Shifting her attention back to the envelope, she politely took it in her hoof, making use of her magic to gently undo the seam and slide out the rectangular banknote, written out personally by the Commandant of the Lunar Marine Corps, for five-thousand bits. Reading this quite nearly made the poor mare faint on the spot.

"St-Star, I..." she gasped out sharply, at a total loss for words for a few seconds. "I-I cannot accept this!"

My face turned smug at her retort, just as I would have expected. "Of course you can."

"W-well... e-even if I wanted to, it's not written to me!" squeaked Pastel.

I nodded in acknowledgement. "You are correct, which is why once the banks reopen, I will cash it myself and turn over the money to you."

The mare's head lowered again, ears pinned fully back. "I-I... Star..." she sputtered quietly. "I can't... ask you to do this for me."

"No, Pastel," I stepped forward once. "I need to do this for you. For the progress we have made after just a few visits, it has made an impact on my life and my career. I don't know where I would be if Haywalker didn't refer me to you."

She stood there in total silence, respirating moderately heavy breaths, the sun reflecting off of her glassy eyes while they remained locked with mine. Her form took on a faint tremble, and it was evident the amount of effort she was putting in to prevent collapsing into an emotional fit.

Without a second of hesitation, she leaped forward, grasping both hooves tightly around the back of my neck in a firm embrace. "Th-thank you, thank you, thank you..." she repeated.

"No, thank you," I said, looping a hoof back around the mare as she sobbed uncontrollably into my shoulder. My smile grew, holding her out in the open. The few ponies who happened to be passing by took notice, pausing to observe with questionable looks on each of their faces.

For all they knew, she broke down due to losing her home. It was between us two that knew the truth, that these were happy tears of hers. She could push on for just a little bit longer.

My good deed was done here, and it only elevated my spirits to do so.

***

"The attacks by the Constitution, the blackouts in March, it was all Armet; not to mention the summit meeting sniper was a brainwashed Arc Nobis."

A small chunk of the information explained by the tech-savvy unicorn Marine, the captain had been up to speed on. Though it should not have been much surprise at that point, what he wasn't previously aware of brought a small grunt out of Shadow. "He probably doesn't even remember it. If he does, it wasn't him that shot the ambassador. He wouldn't do that."

Javelin gave the high-ranking naval officer a somewhat questionable look at that, only to swivel his chair back around to face his laptop. "There's much to decipher in their plans. So far, it seems like the earthquakes and the launch of Vengeance were just the start of a much larger operation."

Shadow had been a couple steps ahead of the unicorn for once, though he recognized that it would not contribute much. The deed was done. This battle had been fought and won by the right side.

However, he was on a more personal mission other than for the reason Javelin requested his presence here in this particular instance. "How is he holding up?"

"Nobis?" Javelin blinked, peeking over his shoulder to catch Shadow's nod. He sat there, pondering for a moment. "Assuming nothing went awry overnight, and I would have been made aware of it by now, he should be waking from his coma this afternoon."

The greenish-grey earth stallion let off a small, contented sigh, feeling a weight drop off of his shoulders. "Any complications we might need to worry about?"

"Other than a temporary case of amnesia and likely also a blank period spanning his time under, not a whole lot," Javelin began, enlarging a second window to present medical pictures of the second lieutenant consisting primarily of numerous internal scans of his head.

"The puncture points in both of his temples will take time to heal, but they pose no risk to his brain's overall health," he added, circling his hoof around the focus points in the highly detailed black and white image. "X-rays showed minor to moderate swelling in the temporal lobes, where the neural arms built into the helmet connected to, but a stimulant injection was administered yesterday evening to reduce it gradually."

Shadow nodded in acknowledgement. "I will take all of this as good news. If possible, I would like to be there when he comes to."

Javelin returned a bob of his head. "Of course, sir. Mind you, patience is a virtue at this time; you must have it with you until his memories come back." He rose from his chair. "I will accompany you on the walk over to the infirmary."

"Thank you, Specialist. Shall we?" Shadow turned, starting out of the small relief tent ahead of Javelin, who trotted out after and soon took the lead.

Following the duo's departure, a lurking figure circled near Javelin's tent, waiting for the prime opportunity to slip in undetected. He stood nearby, doing so in disciplined manner, observing the two march off. Knowing the tent occupied at least one other pony in Snow Storm's squadron, he could not determine how much time he had to accomplish his goal.

The figure, dressed in full Marine BDUs, sauntered up to the makeshift work station belonging to Javelin, consisting of a blue cot and a milk crate in which his laptop was set up on. He checked over his shoulder once more to make sure no one was watching before hunching over to use the computer.

He scrolled through the seemingly endless list of decrypted files transformed into simple images or documents for easy access, coming to a halt roughly a quarter through the entire drive's capacity when he reached his target.

"Time for us to pick up the pieces for you, Armet," he mumbled with a thick eastern timbre, followed by a low, dark chuckle.

With a few simple clicks of a button, it was done. Every last classified file belonging to the crumbling company, copied and forwarded to an anonymous mailbox while simultaneously covering its own tracks to avoid raising alarm by the computer's owner upon return.

***

First thing the morning on Tuesday, the 18th, I ventured to one of base's many administrative facilities. Along with me, a closed folder, meant for the eyes of Sergeant Hardstaff. In the year since enlisting, technically speaking, I have gone without a consistent job; bouncing between a base watchpony to the periodic radarpony aboard the Eclipse, to a helping hoof at the geology center.

No two days were the same routine, and I couldn't despise it more. I wanted change, and at long last, I was on my way to make it happen.

Hardstaff's new office, come to find out, was situated on the second floor of the C Building in a cluster of offices designated A through F. Easy to navigate, being one of the smaller administrative facilities on base, and remarkably close to me and Night's barrack room.

Almost the precise moment I stepped into view in the doorway, Hardstaff spoke up with his gaze instantly meeting mine. "Ah, Shooter. Just the pony I wanted to see."

I blinked thrice, caught somewhat off guard by that. "You... you did?"

The sergeant returned a bob of his head, waving me at ease. I relaxed my posture, taking a few more steps into his little office. "How are you doing, Corporal?"

Once more, his abnormally benevolent demeanor mixed with his neutral countenance took me by surprise. I opted not to pry. "I'm... well. Decently happy, actually, which has me just a little bit concerned considering all that's happened and what is going on right now."

"Oh, you meet somepony finally?"

A small shock ran through my system at his rather sudden query. "What gave you that impression, Sergeant?"

Hardstaff scoffed lowly. "I have yet to stumble across somepony who is 'doing well' that did not just find themselves a special other."

I blinked in silence again, before a smile grew across my muzzle. I nodded once, beaming as warm as the feeling in my heart. "I have, actually."

The surprised look on the sergeant's countenance spoke a few words about what he quite possibly thinks about me and my relationship status. "Well, good for you. What's the sitrep?" he prodded.

"The... sitrep?" My head cocked left slightly, bewildered as to what he meant.

Hardstaff's blue eyes rolled. "Your special somepony!"

I blinked twice another time. "Oh, I met him a while back, actu—"

My breath caught, realizing I had slipped in front of one of the most important ponies in my career. He and I just stared at each other in total silence, except I looked exponentially more shocked than he did by it.

But rather than prying further, he carried on with his reason for speaking to me. "Oh yeah? I have some news for you, too, Corporal," he said, digging into a pocket on his blouse and producing an envelope.

Lifting a shaky hoof to take the basic white slip, I tore into it politely and withdrew the note within, and from a first glance I could tell just how formal it was.

What really put me in a state of utter disbelief was what it read, and that's when Hardstaff chimed in to make things more clear to me. "Word caught of your services to our country and the Vengeance's defeat and, well, OS is interested in bringing you back to make up for your first impression."

Slowly, my gaze steadily lifted from the letter. "You mean... I've been re-accepted into Officer School?"

The midnight pegasus gave a shrug with his nod. "To put it plainly, yes. Congratulations, Corporal. In the meantime, I am up for promotion to make sure you don't one day outrank me on the battlefield," he remarked with some arrogance in his demeanor.

A smile gradually worked its way onto my muzzle, and every ounce in me went to ensuring the waterworks remained closed off in front of the sergeant. Oh, right, but I was happy for him, too. "Likewise. Thank you, Sergeant."

Hardstaff waved his hoof and gave a small shake of his head. "Don't be thanking me, I had nothing to do with any of this. Though I will gladly take your appreciation anyways. Now, get out of my office, unless you have something you have to say to me first."

I blinked twice. "Actually, I do have something for you, as well. That is why I came here this morning." I replied, lifting up and sliding over a plain folder with some paperwork inside. "I have done a bit of research in my free time over the months, Sergeant, and this has piqued my interest."

He took the file and opened the cover to examine the contents within. The first thing that caught his eye was an unsigned approval slip for a change of Military Occupations Speciality, or MOS for short. Seeing this prompted him to snap his head right up.

"What is this for?" he grunted out in an apparent annoyance that seemingly always hovered around him. Sliding the form aside, he proceeded to read the next paper beneath it. With as many words it contained from top to bottom, I couldn't blame him for skipping around a bit while still gathering an idea of what I came here for. "METOC?"

I gave a single nod. "Yes, Sergeant. And it was brought to my attention that there is such a division in Canterlot, where I reside." METOC stood for Meteorology and Oceanography, two things that have interested me since my colt years. Being somepony that often deploys on a ship, this was just the right thing for me.

Had I been made aware of this prior to enlisting, I could have chosen my specialty at MEPS, and it just might have saved me some trouble along the line. That said, if I had gone through with that, there is a chance I would not have made the friends I did from the start of this career.

"Why, was my squadron not good enough for you?" snarled Hardstaff, which made me tense up even more in front of him. That changed when a smirk crossed his muzzle and he waved his hoof, revealing his demeanor to be joking rather than hostile, much to my relief.

"Not at all, Sergeant. In fact I don't think I could have asked for a better squad leader than yourself," I responded with some pride in my tone.

"Flattery won't get you very far, Shooter," he remarked, spreading out each paper within the folder across his tidied desk. Thankfully it was not a lot, no more than four pieces including the request form, which he had placed farthest to the side.

He spent a good minute or two, thoroughly examining each paper, darting his eyes between the MOS information and the request slip near his right hoof.

My part had been done, with every blank required having been filled neatly in my own hoofwriting. It mainly asked of personal information, such as name, platoon, residence, and so on. All that anxiously remained was the sergeant's signature, which he could have simply refused to by putting everything back in the folder and sliding it back.

With a soft grumble, the sergeant plucked a pen from a glass pencil cup and clicked the head out. My eyes widened slightly as the ink first engraved on the paper in his name, curling every which way in formal cursive. As slow as time seemed to roll by, watching his name appear on the final line of the form, the process was over in no more than a couple of seconds as indicated by the slapping of his pen against his desk top.

"I will have to send this through to our platoon lieutenant for him to take a gander as soon as he returns from medical leave," he said, sliding the papers back together into a neat pile, tapping them twice against the desk upright before setting them down in the folder. "My approval matters most here. Without mine, he will or will not, either. Your hoof is in the door, Corporal."

He glanced up from his desk to look me dead in the eye. For once, he dropped the scowl he constantly donned. "But you must acknowledge that, should the time call for it, you are to return to this squadron. A change of job does not mean much in terms of your combat capability. It is required of all Lunar Marines, whether in a combat role or not, to deploy in times of emergency should we be called to action."

That wasn't all what I wished to hear. I couldn't say no, though. It was my own will that signed the enlistment papers, and this is something I should expect by now. Sometimes it makes me wish I had gone Navy instead, not that it would be much different bullshit. "I understand, Sergeant."

Hardstaff nodded once, easing down into his office chair. "On the plus side to all of this, Officer School will help you further getting into METOC. It will be about nine months of classes at the Meteorology and Oceanography primary school in Canterlot. Better yet, a branch of OS, albeit small, is situated there, too. You will be killing two birds with one stone."

"Yeah, but, how much of a workload will that be?" I queried, cocking my head a little to the side. "It will be two conflicting schedules from what I understand, Sergeant."

He gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Debatable. But of course, they have informed me that they are willing to be flexible to you as a bit of recompense for your poor first impression of the school. It may still leave you without much free time, but, admittedly, it is preferable to having to divide your time to two separate entities."

That did offer a bit of relief to ease my nerves. I gave a single nod of acknowledgement. "Yes, sir. That sounds wonderful."

The sergeant nodded back. "You, Corporal, have made out quite an interesting career in just thirteen months if we count basic. Shit, you keep it up, it might be you behind this desk or one of your own not very long from now. At this rate you will be a commissioned officer within another year with one hell of a story to tell your future subordinates."

A mix of emotions permeated my soul. Between a giddy feeling of being my own stallion and the twisting of my stomach knowing it would be me giving orders rather than taking them, I didn't know truly how to feel about that. "Perhaps my story would be best kept between acquaintances that already know, Sergeant." What the hell did I mean?

Hardstaff stared in mild bewilderment. "Speaking of, I have noticed a select few recognize your actions up there that day. Why is that?"

I gave a small shrug of my shoulders. "Don't need the fame following me. Besides, it wasn't just me, so boasting would be completely unwarranted either way."

The dark blue pegasus snorted. "Unwarranted, my ass! If it were up to me, I would put you up for one of the highest honors, colt! Going above and beyond the call of duty, literally." He glared, albeit in a stern manner and less furious. "You saved Manehattan from further destruction. You put an end to Armet Mace's heinous acts of terrorism. And you did it with only one other pony by your side."

"I am humbled, but I would not have had Captain Shadow not volunteered to go up there first, Sergeant. It was not my idea to begin with. Give credit where it is due, please," I responded respectfully, stiffening my posture.

The sergeant relaxed into his chair, groaning out a deep sigh and rubbing his hoof over his eyes. "You are a hero, whether or not you agree, with or without public knowledge. But if that is what you desire, I must respect it."

I nodded firmly. "Thank you, Sergeant."

He flicked a brief glance at me before leaning forward, shifting his attention and reverting the topic back to my request.

"Just be aware that me approving this to send off for a secondary approval does not mean you are going anywhere just yet. We still need all hooves pitching in on recovery until we know for sure when operations can revert to some level of normal."

"Normal? What is normal anymore?" I joked, chuckling afterwards. It managed to bring a curt laugh out of the pegasus sergeant to my surprise.

"You know, it's hard not to agree with you there," he smirked. "Now, do you have anything else to declare, Corporal?"

I thought hard for a moment. Anything that should have been said was irrelevant in the moment or was stuff meant for one of my buddies to hear instead. "No, Sergeant. That is all."

"Then you are dismissed," he affirmed, closing the folder and swiveling his chair to file it in one of his metal cabinets surrounding the only window in the office. "Have yourself a pleasant day, Corporal."

***

Even after two weeks, the wreckage of Vengeance continued to smolder along the riverbanks, where most of the debris washed up. While radiation from the twin cores that powered the massive ship posed no threat to life in the area, ponies were advised to avoid coming in contact with any pieces they may stumble across on their return into the city.

Something else intriguing that was brought to my attention was the fact that both quakes respectively and temporarily shifted our planet's axis two inches due north, and the tectonic plate much of the Equestrian continent rests on had been shoved west by four feet.

As it turns out, the pulse device Armet used to trigger the first tremor when it exploded and caused the second had also given birth to a massive vent where the fault split in two. Combined with the thermonuclear detonation upon the machine's instruction, the jettisoned steam from ice-cold seawater rushing into the mile-deep fissure meeting a layer of magma triggered that massive tidal wave that could have wiped us all off the map.

Changes were noticeable back home, too, and I am not talking about the devastation and loss of life. Water flow patterns had been reshaped; most creeks in the region feeding into the Manehattan River or the ocean now streamed in the opposite direction. Adaptable alterations to the ecological system at most, and unforgettable ones at that. Everything about our lives—ponies and creatures alike—have now changed forever.

Unable to get back home due to most transportation services being still out of commission, Ray was forced to spend his days at the massive relief camp set up on Joint Base Manehattan; not that I was complaining in the slightest. In my free time, it presented the opportunity to spend more of it with him in person, without the loneliness of sitting behind a computer screen to interact with one another. This was one of the few good things to come out of this entire fiasco.

One evening, after completing my duties for the day, I gathered the golden pegasus to head up to the flight deck of the Eclipse. Guarded as it always was to prevent unsolicited civilians from sneaking on board, getting inside was not particularly tough, giving the sentries my word that Ray was with me.

Granted, still being an active vessel in the fleet, it was made clear that no tours were to be given apart from what might be seen along the jaunt to the upper levels.

I led him up the stairwell in the island to the hatch that led out to the flight deck, twisting the lever to unlock and opening it for him. Ray smiled warmly, giving a nod of thanks and trotting through, where the sight cradled him with awe.

The eight o'clock sunset lit up the sky in an aurora of oranges, yellows, and pinks that glistened off what skyline and windows remained of the city. In spite of the haunting reminder of what transpired here, the view served as a beautiful reminder of how precious life was and left a lingering sense of consolation that we were still here to witness it.

I strolled up to the pegasus' side, a gentle smile creeping across my muzzle as I watched his head slowly turn from one way to the other with twinkling, awestruck emerald cores. He turned to me, giving my cheek a little nuzzle, one I happily returned with a contented sigh.

"Ray, we've only spent a little bit of time together, but I cherish it all the same. You were there when I needed somepony the most, and I appreciate that with all that's left of my soul and sanity."

A faint blush appeared on his cheeks, the light pink a stark contrast to his golden coat. "You are an amazing stallion, Star. That first night we hung out at your apartment, when I noticed you beginning to have a panic attack, I was worried my solution might weird you out. I'm happy to know that it rather sparked something inside you towards me. I think I lucked out."

I chuckled softly at that. "You helped me figure out who I am. I'm grateful for that." I reached over to touch my hoof against his. "I want to spend more time with you. No, I want to spend my life with you. I love you."

Ray's blush adorably grew deeper in shade. "I love you, too, Star."

Leaning into one another, I pecked his lips as he did in simultaneous return. The feathers on my wings fluffed slightly, and a small chill ran up my spine; one of good meaning.

Together, we stood on the center of the flight deck in silence, leaning our bodies into one another. If I didn't know it before, this is what love felt like, and it was the greatest feelings in the world.

My ear swiveled, catching on to the collective clicks of hooves on the asphalt deck surface approaching from behind. I glanced over my shoulder to see Anchorage, Ashfall, and Silver Edge strolling side by side toward the two of us, right on time as I had requested.

I turned myself to face the three directly, as did Ray, keeping a little bit behind me as I stepped forth. "Hey, guys. Glad you could come."

Silver tipped his chin in a nod. "Of course. I'm just still a little surprised they let us up here right now."

I nodded in agreement with a grin. "Right? How lucky are we?"

The four of us chuckled. Ray continued to linger back a couple feet behind me, nervous somewhat but holding it together. He did it better than me, that's for damn sure.

"So, who is this, Star? He seems special to you," asked Anchorage with a curious smile.

At that moment, I felt myself lock up. But then, a soft touch came to my hoof. I glanced slowly over my shoulder, gaze drifting to those beautiful emerald cores, and the kindest smile you can possibly conceive.

With him at my side, I drew in a deep breath to clear my mind and ease off the tension throughout my body. When all inhibition vanished, I looked forward to my friends, coworkers, and battle buddies in general with confidence in myself.

"Guys, I would like to formally introduce you to Ray Blitz. He is my coltfriend."

SEMPER FIDELIS - ALWAYS FAITHFUL

Author's Note

And there it is, the conclusion of Eye of the Storm. It's been a long and frustrating road, and I could not be more pleased with myself for finishing it at last. Not exactly an epic ending and does bounce around quite a bit, but there were some loose ends in need of tying up.

Star Shooter will return in Millennia: Starfall...

Prologue

Leave wasn't anything new, although medical leave is a whole other story. During this time, ponies are virtually paid to stay home and unwind for a specific amount of time. Needless to say, having been convinced to take time off rather than meeting with the second lieutenant to arrange it all through piles of paperwork feels quite congenial. The downside to it, however, is there was absolutely nothing to pass the time. Nothing entertaining, that is. I suppose this is what it was like for the others who have been put on immediate medical vacation.

Only three days into 'vacation' and the only thing to do is to sit back, watch television, or read books. Those were my options. My doctor demanded nothing overly dramatic is to be done until I get back. This included strenuous physical activities, such as hiking or swimming.

Then again, the only swimming pool I knew of in Canterlot was at the Royal Guard Academy on the palace grounds, and that is obviously off-limits; and only the craziest of ponies hiked the upper portion of the mountain the city rested on, especially this time of year. Perhaps I am better off living here, granted there was nothing I could do to hurt myself, even though I wasn't physically injured anywhere.

Both Doctor Haywalker and I were very well aware it would be a long road to recovery. I couldn't bear to watch any news channels as their big headline remained to be Manehattan Rebuilding, or something related to that matter. The news remained true to its word. Manehattan was, in fact, still picking up the pieces. That is a good thing, right? Well, yes. To many, anyhow. Not for me, it wasn't. Merely hearing the word Manehattan sickened me.

Of course, it is only a matter of time before I have to travel back to that urban jungle for work. I wasn't ready to be discharged from the Marines just yet. Not to mention the help I seeked could only be found at Joint Naval Station Manehattan, where Haywalker was. Strangely enough, mental aid for current and former military members was far and few in between virtually anywhere I look. Maybe I would have to write to the princesses about that. One of them would get the job done, for sure.

I laid on the couch in my apartment, fiddling with a pair of dog tags in my hoof out of pure boredom, my lazy eyes focused on the flat screen television just across the room. Of all of the countless different channels I could have tuned in to, the only one to really keep my interest was the channel that broadcasted 24/7 weather. Strangely enough, weather had always found a way to mesmerize me.

It was only early January, and meteorologists were already discussing the coming hurricane season, a time of year where tropical cyclones plagued the world's oceans, beginning with the Antlertic. The true reason it kept me awake was because the ship I was assigned to sailed out there every so often, and my job is to provide a constant flow of weather reports to my commanding officer, who was also the captain of the L.R.S. Eclipse.

Frankly, its something most sailors would least expect; a Marine performing the duties typically reserved for ponies in the Navy. I don’t think if I had not known Shadow before enlisting that I still would have landed this “rate”, because that is not how it works. The most Marines do on ships is act as a ground protection of sorts for them, such as if the ship is raided. Aircraft carriers, while not entirely defenseless, have mostly anti-air missiles and machine guns here and there, strictly around the lower exposed decks. That said, vessels such as cruisers and destroyers act as the primary protectors of carriers since they have the most firepower.

An audible rumbling emanated from my stomach, startling me slightly while I lay there, relaxed. I sat up and stretched out my hooves, having been jolted from zoning out for who knows how long. My gaze lifted up to a clock on the wall, which read just a few minutes past one in the afternoon. It was then that I decided, it was time to have some lunch.

Thanks to my stupid new mind habits, for the duration of leave, my appetite has downsized greatly and in some cases utterly vanished altogether. As a result, eating has been far and few inbetween for me.

With hunger calling at long last, I slid off the couch and onto all fours. My muscles relaxed standing up, trotting over to a coat hanger beside the door and snatching down a black pocketed jacket in my hoof and began slipping into it, bundling up the buttons to the collar afterward.

I then took a navy watch beanie off of the hook beside it, fitting it around the top of my head and ears comfortably. In Canterlot throughout January, the outside temperatures and accompanying wind gusts were brutal. Being a city built a mountainside has those cons, unfortunately.

As soon as I finished checked over myself, taking my apartment keys and tucking them into a pocket, I strolled out the door into the elements.

Turning to the door as it shut behind me gently, locking up, I paused when the sound of hoofsteps approached from behind. My ear swiveled, head turning to the side and gaze setting upon a tan earth pony mare with a finely-brushed auburn mane and a matching scarf around her neck. I smiled gently, pocketing my keys and shifting to face the mare. "Afternoon, Rose," I nodded once to her.

"Likewise, Star," Rose Shine smiled warmly, reaching the bottom step of the metal staircase. "How have you been doing?"

"All right, I suppose. Could be better. I’ve got eleven days left," I answered with a sigh.

"You don't like leave much, do you?" Rose cocked her head, frowning.

My head shook gently, smile also fading. "To be quite honest with you, no, I do not. There’s nothing to distract myself. Nothing fun, that is.”

"I understand. You know," Rose began, "I'm usually open to hang out, or go out and do something. Maybe we could—"

"No."

Rose's ears perked, her eyes widening. "What?"

Eying the mare carefully, I took in a deep breath and let it out somewhat shakily. "I mean... I'm not sure if I'm ready for that yet."

The mare's head dipped a bit, she nodded forbearingly. "Oh."

"I don't want you to be upset, it's just..." I stopped myself, reaching a hoof out toward the mare.

"No, no. Star, I get it. I... messed up. I messed up so badly,” her stare met mine warily. “I understand if you are hesitant to spend time with me. But, I know you are going through some tough times and I won’t force anything. You need your rest, anyways. What happened to you, I know was traumatizing. I may not have been there the whole time, although, it's clear."

"What's clear?" My brow arched.

Her body notably grew tense at that moment. She looked up after briefly lowering her gaze, swallowing. "You are different. The way you stand, the way you talk... even the look in your eyes. You're not the same stallion you were before. Star, you're—"

My hoof lifted, and Rose immediately silenced herself. I shut my eyelids and breathed calmly, the air from my nostrils steaming as it met the nipping cold. There were a few moments of total silence, aside from the occasional whistle of the wind between the buildings where we stood.

Taking in a deep breath, the tan mare let her ears fall a little. "Star, I'm sorry."

I lowered my hoof, slowly looking the mare in the eye. "I am, too."

Rose shifted a bit in her stance, eyes darting off to the side for a moment. "Then I suppose I'll be on my way. Let me... know... when you'll be ready," her ears pinned back some more, and she proceeded to walk around me.

I stood there, staring blankly off ahead of me. The tan mare paused, peeking back over her shoulder, then sighed softly and started down the staircase onto the street.

"Copy that," I muttered under my breath, raising my head to look skyward as little snowflakes started fluttering down to earth from the heavens.

***

Standing in line at a nearby cafe, I looked around the pony ahead of me toward the counter, where the poor cashier received a lecture by an angry customer over the littlest of errors; one and a half sugar cubes instead of just one. These damn nobles in Canterlot are just too difficult to please anymore, it seems.

Eventually, the line did move again, and it came my turn to place an order, setting bits on the counter to pay for it. The cashier rung it up, placing the money in the register, and trotting off to the small kitchen to have the order placed.

I stayed at the counter, staring blankly at the wall behind it and waiting patiently for the pony to return. While waiting, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Turning to look just to the side and behind me, I found a slightly older stallion than myself in a turtleneck sweater and a scarf, having a rather nervous-looking smile crossing his muzzle was standing there.

"Excuse me, fine sir, but... Are you who I think you are?" he questioned with the faint tickle of nervousness which even I caught.

I blinked a couple of times in bewilderment and twisted to face him directly. "Come again?"

"You are Lance Corporal Star Shooter, if I'm not wrong? In the Lunar Marine Corps?"

Once again, I froze, briefly studying this pony before responding. "How would you make that out?"

"So you are him." His smile grew more, becoming less skittish and more genuine. "You saved Manehattan, and my dear friends who live there. You are a hero, Star."

My eyes grew wide and I motioned a hoof for the pony to lower his volume a bit. "Okay, alright, shhh. No need to speak so loud.” I set my hoof down when he nodded. “Listen, I'm no hero. I just follow orders, like everypony else. I go where they tell me to go."

His smile faded, and instantly, his tone turned grim. "You didn't go to Baltimare."

The sudden change hit me hard. "I was... ordered to stay put." I knew that wasn’t the truth, but it isn’t any of his business.

"And yet you still went into Manehattan with other soldiers and fought back when nopony else would. I would call that heroic."

"Well, you know what? If I could have saved everypony, I wouldn't mind the title much. All I did was shoot at some bastards with territorial issues. When backup finally came to our aid, that's when everything was under control," I snapped, shoving a hoof to his chest and my stabbing gaze impaling him like a pair of sharpened daggers. "Don't believe everything the damn news tells you, you hear me? I didn't save anypony."

Once I had finished, it took me some time to realize the pitiful stallion had recoiled back nearly as far as he could go and was crouching down beneath my pressed hoof. Slowly I lowered it to the floor, eyes widening the moment all was fully realized. I glanced up, noticing the ponies behind us in line, watching with shock at my outburst. I simply stared, without a clue of what to do next.

My focus shifted back to the pony I had gone off on, where I found him to now have blood-red cores that illuminated his sockets. Not just his pupils, his entire eyes!

A sharp gasp of shock slipped out, drawing back from the now-standing pony. As I watched, the stallion's appearance suddenly transformed to one I never thought I would see again.

The unicorn, coat a light yellow and mane orange, donning a uniform like my own, stood there with his ears pinned back all the way. He looked... disappointed.

"Star Shooter..."

My crimson irides shrunk to pinpricks. "No..." I felt my heart completely stop in my chest.

A looming shadow began to creep and overtake my form, darkening it, consuming the shop and everything in it. Everything except for him.

"Staaaar..."

"No... stay back!" I continued to back away from him, heart now pounding away in my chest.

"Star... Why didn't you save me?"

My eyes glassed up with tears. A sense of terror swept across my entire body as the only thing around us was total darkness.

"I-I couldn't... You jumped..." I gulped down a clogging lump in my throat. "You jumped on it. You jumped on the grenade!"

"You could have saved me... You could have saved them."

Even while the yellow unicorn advanced closer, my hooves did not stop. Yet I simply could not get away from him. His eyes glowed in a faint red hue. A sinister red. On either sides of him, numerous other stallions materialized from a blur. Some of them wore sailor crackerjacks; others, Marine Corps blues.

"No... Stop! Please... I don't need this right now!"

My hind hoof slipped off what I found to be a gradually-crumbling steep cliff, leading down into a pit of flowing ichor and whispering shadows. The ponies kept coming closer, some glaring and the rest glowering with disappointment. A letdown caused by me.

I froze in place staring down into the wicked abyss that sent a cold chill running up my spine, before looking up in front of me to meet the ominous burning stare of one particular unicorn.

A fearful whimper uttered in my throat, suppressed faintly by grit teeth, "Please... Solar... I-I'm sorry!" tears streaming down my cheeks endlessly.

Soon, the ponies had formed a circle around me and closed in slowly. They trapped me between them and the terrifying drop at my hinds with no way of escaping. I would be taking the plunge no matter what happened next, and I had no distinct option other than to close my eyes and accept this fate, feeling the combined chill of their ghostly figures pressing up against my body.

I shot up in the midst of a pitch black room, screaming out. My chest heaved, lungs feeling as if they were about to burst under the pressure, and my heart pumped rapidly in my chest. A glaze of tepid perspiration slicked the back of my neck and across my forehead, lightly dampening my unbrushed, mildly frizzled sky blue mane.

My dilated pupils scanned every inch of my surroundings steadily, providing a much needed relief upon realization that it was all just an illusion. It was just a dream...

Sighing out in exhaustion, I let my head fall flat onto the pillow, hooves spread outward on my sides and set my sleepless gaze upon the ceiling while my conscience seeked countless attempts to soothe my perturbed mind.

I need to put an end to all of this. I need to, badly. Just eleven more days to go. You can make it, Star. Everything will be just fine.

Author's Note

And so Millennia returns...

4. Field Week - Part II

In an adjacent clearing just outside of the base, a wall perimeter made of chopped logs pieced together had been set up, along with mobile artillery cannons lined up and facing the field, where scorch marks, circular patches of grass where snow melted in the heat of blasts, and craters dotted erratically in the snow from ammunition tests.

The Equestrian Army did have quite the impressive weaponry. Not nearly up to par with the Marines, but close. This fort, to my knowledge, compared to others around Equestria, was admittedly outdated. Some soldiers still slept in permanent tents like in old times and overseas conflicts, and barracks similar to those in Manehattan were being constructed, but only a few. This place had to be trapped three decades in the past, or more.

Led by Hardstaff, the four of us and plus some, all bundled up in our insulated coats and backpacks over our shoulders, were brought out to the artillery field. None of the cannons were active, much to the soldiers' chagrin—though, primarily those who actually fired them. It may have been for the best at the moment.

"Sergeant Hardstaff, if I am at will to ask, what are we doing out here? Nopony has informed us of today's activities, sir." Nightpath asked from second in line.

"Well, as it may already be clear, Private First Class, the mess created by these soldiers and their cannons will be cleaned up. Targets will be set up for practice. Each and every one of you shall participate, as well, along with many of your fellow Marines. Remember, we are in their base. We go by their rules," Hardstaff answered sternly.

"Now, the field will be open for any and all weapons. That may include pistols, shotguns, rifles, machine guns, grenades, grenade launchers, and a few more," Hardstaff continued.

A soldier in line raised his hoof. Glancing to him, Hardstaff gestured for him to lower it. "Except miniguns and rocket-propelled grenades."

In disappointment, the soldier lowered his hoof, and his chin.

"Once more, this is not a competitive game of any sort. Exactly like in boot camp, we will grade you based on hits on the targets, or if they are completely wiped out. Those factors will determine your final score at the end of the week. Rest assured, it will make little to no difference in your careers. Clear?"

"Yes, Sergeant!" We proudly answered in unison.

"Good enough," Hardstaff gestured his head in the direction of a long table set up to his left. "Choose what you may, load up, try out your weapons—" his hoof then raised, signalling a final detail. "—WITHOUT shooting them."

"Yes, Sergeant," again, much quieter this time, though audible enough for him not to make us repeat.

As ordered, the smaller group we had this morning strode over to the table, each of us taking a good look at the weapon selection.

Some of the guns were older ones, although far more recent—more recent than anything else Fort Fetlock had to offer. Unmodified M16A2's, MK4's, AR13's, Beretta 92's, M1911's, and Glock 19's, just to name a few. Each one of us could take one of each, as well, so borrowing from each other was not necessary.

The other types of weapons Hardstaff had mentioned were not present, likely for the matter that everypony would immediately want to blow something up for fun. Yeah, that was probably the reason.

A couple of these weren't the most modern, notably the AR13's. AR15's replaced them now, and I had experience with them myself. 13's, I imagined, would not be much different.

Taking one, Ashfall examined the unloaded rifle carefully, running one of his hooves down the side of the grip and toward the end of the barrel. "Man, these must be expensive to operate these days."

"Oh, yeah. Ammunition is specially ordered, made by only one company these days," one soldier said as he hauled in a heavy container of fully-loaded clips. "Ye would think the Army would invest in what ye Marines have. Personally, ah think we would catch up in the race."

"No kidding. I almost feel bad for you guys," Ashfall replied with a smug look.

"Ah, shaddup. Y'all are some lucky sons-of-bitches. Y'all got to see all of the action, too," the soldier snarled back at Ashfall.

"Action?" Nightpath blinked, glancing to the smaller pony.

Oh great. Here we go.

"Y'know, when Manehattan got picked off. Y'all took the glory in fightin' and none of us even knew until after it was said and done with!"

"Why... weren't any of you briefed, or even told for that matter?" Ash's head cocked slightly.

"Ask yer princess that y'all worship so much! Hence, 'Lunar Marines'?" The soldier motioned his hooves in a quote gesture, then trotted off to collect some more ammunition crates.

Blinking twice, Night moved his gaze over to Ash. "What's his issue, do you think?"

"Typical my-branch-is-superior beliefs. We all have them," answered the green earth pony. "He's saltier than Anchorage after a deployment, and he's usually covered in it."

Silver and I got a chuckle out of that. "That's a little bit commendable, even for him," he said.

"I've insulted worse," Ash grinned, cocking his weapon of choice after loading a fresh magazine into the well, as it was referred to.

"Isn't Anchorage always salty?" Nightpath added, blinking again.

***

Over the span of just a few minutes, and while we collected our guns, red-and-white bulls eye targets were brought out by soldiers and set up down the range, one for each of us to focus on. Two magazines, both used in one session until the final bullet in the chamber was shot.

What was better with these targets, we'd learned they were reusable, meaning we wouldn't have to wait for soldiers to haul more out per session. The bulls eyes themselves were constructed with a sort of enchantment that deflects bullets, yet keeps the heat marks where they initially struck. More so, the marks could be rubbed off. That's the real reason they can be reused.

"Cease fire, cease fire!" Hardstaff audibly shouted above the gunfire, lowering a pair of binoculars from his eyes while he observed. "Weapons in condition four. Check your targets downrange!"

A cluster of magazines dropping to the ground was next audible, followed by us setting our weapons down on the planks and proceeding down the short slope to our targets.

Assuming all bullets hit, thirty-two marks would be counted. From this distance, thirty-five to forty yards, the chances of making the target with a full two magazines were slim, unless I or someone else were a markspony.

Examining my target carefully, I counted twenty-seven hit marks, leaving five that completely missed. None made the direct center ring, or the white ring around it. The rest were scattered about. Had the target been closer, my accuracy might have notably improved, thanks to Lieutenant Snow Storm's help all of that time ago.

All of that time ago, as in two or three months, which reminded me. Back at home base, I would have to hook up with him for a range day, or something. Practice makes perfect, or close, after all.

Reaching for and grabbing a small cloth from my pocket, carefully I had begun to wipe down the bulls eye, once more amazed at the burn marks left behind slowly fading away.

The others followed suit, checking over their targets one final time before returning uphill to the sergeant, while more soldiers brought in different guns. Machine guns.

Our selection was significantly downsized for this round. M249's, or light machine guns, rested in place on the two extended legs near the end of the barrel. Ammunition belts were pre-loaded, extending off to the side and hanging down from the bottom of the chamber.

"Line up on the firing line!" Hardstaff ordered for the second time, hoof gestured outward toward the wooden perimeter and the guns.

I crouched down to my stomach, laying almost entirely flat on the cold surface. My stomach tightened at the snow's touch as some of it slipped up my jacket, dampening it. Making somewhat of an attempt to ignore it, I focused on the gun and the targets, one hoof resting atop and the other reaching around to the trigger but not quite touching it yet.

"Flatten out your belts if necessary," Hardstaff added, tossing a brief glare at some of the soldiers. "All ready? Fire!"

Heavy pops of machine guns simultaneously lighting up the targets downrange drowned out all other sounds. All, but one.

An image flashed by. Blinking, I focused on the bulls eye a distance away, hoof on the trigger. Beneath me trembled the ground from the kick of the multitude of guns being shot in a neat line.

Another image. A vivid one. My eyes opened wide from having seemingly blacked out momentarily, returning all focus downrange again. A soft thumping throbbed in my earlobes, echoing around the whole my head, relatable to the pinging of sonar on a ship.

"Star, wake up!"

I shook my head, eyes squinting and growling lowly to myself. Get yourself together, damn it, I mumbled to myself, shoving any more memories out of the way of the fixate.

"Wake up, you're having a nightmare again!"

Not this time, I wasn't. I couldn't have been. Ow! Damn wing!

Both wings came around in a cheek smack, either one tossing me back into reality. My heart raced. That was where the deep throbbing was coming from! It was only getting worse...

"Star, please, wake up! You have to help us!"

"Cease fire, cease fire!" Hardstaff ordered in a lungful shout.

No more than two seconds later cued the echo of the gunfire as it traveled off into the distance, followed by total silence. All fixed their eyes on Hardstaff. All, apart from me.

"Proceed downrange, check your targets!"

Standing with the others, I moved down to the bulls eye. The throbbing in my ears dissipated entirely, as did the ache in my chest.

Upon reaching my target, my eyes widened. My mind raced with bewilderment. "What the?"

Only two bullets marked on the bulls eye. Both were on opposite ends of the target, and on the far outer rings. The other fifty-eight bullet marks were nowhere to be seen.

To the side, Ashfall glanced over, eyes also opening wide upon giving the target a glance. "Man, what happened? You missed all but two!"

"That... can't be right. Unless I was aiming the wrong way the whole time."

"Or blindly," Ash examined his own target. "Fifty-three hits. New record for me!"

"I... but, what could have happened to me?" I turned to Ash with a look of worry.

"Ah, don't fret about it. I'm sure one unlucky bastard mopping up the snow will find 'em laying around somewhere," a soldier to my left said with a smirk.

Mopping up snow? What kind of insane base was this?

***

"You're kidding me..." I muttered, lifting up the ammo chain attached to my gun.

I hadn't missed the target. I only ended up shooting two bullets. The rest remained hanging and laying on the ground, still in the same spots on the belt.

Knowing the sergeant would be far from elated to find leftover ammunition, while nopony was looking, I quickly removed the belt and tossed it into a nearby snowbank. Relieved as it disappeared into a mound of white, my focus shifted back to the others, as well as the soldiers bringing in the different weapons.

This time, boxes of different-styled grenades were placed on the tables. Fragmentation grenades, flashbangs, and smoke canteens.

"Marines, soldiers, you know the drill. Don't bother worrying about the targets, they can take as many hits as you throw at them," Hardstaff stated. "We will not be using stun grenades for everypony's well-being. You know the drill. Line up!"

Taking three and one of each and retreating back to the line, minus the flash grenades, first would begin with the smoke bombs. In an instant, the field became fogged as the non-toxic fumes released from the canteens, blowing off in another direction thanks to the wind.

Next up, frag grenades. Three of them. These constructs were not having a good day.

"Begin!" Hardstaff ordered, stepping off to the side with other soldiers, observing our performance.

Eyes locked directly on the designated bulls eye. Breath steady. My other hoof carefully lifted, yanking the rounded safety pin out and rearing my arm back.

But as my hoof thrust forward, it struck the raised arm of Ashfall. Rather than the grenade flying forward at the targets downrange, it flung itself upwards, landing back down in the snow between us. Ash's grenade too was knocked out of his hoof from mine impacting. His, however, made it over the barrier and safely away.

"Shit!" My heart's beat came to a grinding halt.

"Dropped grenade! Scatter!" another soldier shouted.

Immediately, everypony dropped what they were doing and ran in all directions to take cover, myself included.

Snapping in our direction with wide-eyes, Ashfall then focused on the grenade at his hooves, reaching just beyond it and plucking the pin right out of the snow. He fiddled with it along with the grenade as he attempted to force it back in.

Rather than running, Ash dropped on top of the grenade and balled up to keep it completely covered. Any debris that would have flown out would only hit him and no one else, at the expensive of his life.

Every pound in my chest was quick and heavy, eyes just narrowly peeking over a short snow-covered hill down at the stallion. At any millisecond I anticipated the grenade to go off and it severely injure him, or worse.

But that tiny explosion never came to pass. That muffled pulse that would briefly lift him up and shred him with sharp debris fragments never occurred. The grenade didn't explode.

Gradually I rose, body shaking and heart still beating fearfully. The others followed suit when all seemed to be clear.

Ash's eyelids cracked open, pupils scanning around him. He sat upright, then stood on all fours and peering down at the explosive ball beneath him, safely lying in a pony-pressed area of snow with no threat of detonating.

With deep, steamy breaths, the green stallion wiped off a nervous sweat and reached for his cover a yard away. Slipping the cap back on, a glance was tossed my way. An unpleasant one, at that.

***

Night quickly settled in, as did the freezing cold. To be more precise, it was cold before, now it was simply bone-chilling. Wind chill lowered the temperature another two or three degrees, too.

Those of us on the firing range parted ways, but all heading off to have some dinner before bed. After the incident earlier, I felt no need to walk in the mess hall. My heart and soul both said the exact same thing: avoid Ashfall as much as possible.

The thought of steering clear of a battle buddy—no, a friend—hurt deep down. Yet, part of me expected more pain to come from confronting him directly. Shortly put, I could have killed him today. The exact opposite of what Marines are supposed to do to their fellow stallions and mares.

Not once did I relive or recall the episode I had on the field, either. Why it didn't come back as a stressful memory was far beyond me.

So, here I was. Laying down flat on my cot, mostly undressed from the heavy gear I've worn the last couple of days and leaving just my uniform on to keep warm, and gazing up at the shadowed ceiling of the tent, the wind outside gently rustling the nylon shield around me.

Despite a growling, hungry stomach, I refused to budge. On top of my want for at least something small to eat, my stomach curdled and churned. It felt like a cluster of butterflies tingled my insides. All of it was for that one stupid reason.

"Hey, Star," came a low voice from the door flap.

Startled out of a thought trance, I glanced at the pony standing there, wincing immediately after I recognized who it was in the darkness.

"Yeah?" I shifted onto my side to slightly face away.

"Didn't see you in the mess hall. Everything alright?" Ash questioned, further entering the tent.

"Yeah, everything's fine," I lied. Easily it was the fastest I've come up with. Too much focus on the thought beforehand leads to genuine-sounding lies, I suppose.

"Are you sure? Aren't you hungry?"

Of course, at this moment, my stomach decided it was a good time to speak for itself and growled just audible enough for the larger pony to hear. "No, I'm not."

"Positive? 'Cause it sounds like your—"

"I'm not hungry, Ash. I'm just... tired."

"Oh," he nodded once. "Well, alright. If you insist. See you... tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"Okay..." Ash sounded suspicious. But, without further word, he left.

I don't believe the hurt echoing in my chest could have worsened any more than it just did. I was tired, exhausted even. Perhaps not quite in the way he surmised. No, it most certainly was not.

***

In a sea of blackness as far as the eye could see, without the typical twinkle or glow of stars above, all was eerily silent.

Breaking that silence, alarms rose, wailing loudly to warn those in the area of an impending attack. Wait a minute, they were real!

Jolting up from my cot with surprise, my head snapped to look around in the dark of the tent. Bright spotlights from outside lit up the inside of the tent transparently through the nylon. Stomping of numerous hooves galloping around and shouting from all directions were too part of the ambiance while the sirens blared.

Jumping to all fours, my hooves slipped quickly through the sleeves of my coat, one snatching up my cover and rushing a couple of feet to peek outside. Spotlight poles shone down across the whole of the base, lighting it up entirely in the dead of the moonless night sky above. I winced at the sudden brightness before shifting to the others, who were just waking up.

"Get moving, it's an emergency!" I shouted narrowly above the outside clamor.

"What's happening?!" Silver Edge looked around himself, baffled, his eyes open wide. Nightpath too appeared extremely startled.

"An attack of some sort," Ashfall answered calmly, yet sternly, throwing his own coat on. "Find Hardstaff, he still gives the orders."

In a flash, the four of us rushed out of our tent and into the craziness. Soldiers, some in pairs, ran in all sorts of directions to their battle stations. Most, if not all, had their rifles ready and helmets strapped on tightly. Enormous beams stretched skyward, gently dancing around as if in an attempt to spot something. It could only mean one thing: air raid.

While soldiers rushed to their stations, Marines, and even airponies, all dashed for the mess hall. It could effortlessly have been where Hardstaff was, or other superiors who may have had an idea of the situation.

Sure enough, squeezing through the doors with other frantic ponies, Hardstaff, as well as First Lieutenant Arc Nobis, and other branch superior officers gathered. In spite of the outside turmoil, they showed off rather odd composure.

"Marines, airponies, soldiers!" called a placid-voiced first lieutenant. "Radar detection and path-speed projection models have determined that a coordinated attack against our homeland, this base specifically, will likely occur within the next half-hour.

"Long-range bombers, paratrooper aircraft, and assault fighters from an unknown origin were last spotted near the coast approximately thirty-four nautical miles north and east of Manehattan. While we find it to be quite peculiar for the enemy aircraft to beeline for Fort Fetlock over a highly-populated area, precautions are being taken."

"Marines," Hardstaff spoke next. "Gear up, man any available artillery. Work with your fellow soldier to ensure no aircraft or enemy make their target. Is that clear?"

A collective chatter rose up in the room as ponies of different branches. A sense of fear also filled it.

"Get a move on!" Arc shouted, tone far more serious and gruff this time.

At his word, everypony began scrambling to get to work.

Silver Edge, Nightpath, Ashfall, and myself, also kicked into gear. With a high adrenaline, the four of us rushed to the base armory.

***

Stung by the frigid sub-zero temperatures, my eyes scanned frantically about the starry night. Typically, aircraft lights stood out after dark, even under a cloudless night.

As I regained my sense of direction, my gaze moved in the direction believed to be where the planes were coming from. Nothing more than the expanse of white dots strewn around above. No blinking white lights. No red-and-green-wingtip beacons. Nothing.

Letting out a steam-turned huff, I turned to the others, also keeping a watchful eye out. "I don't see anything."

"Me neither," Nightpath said quietly.

"Stay frosty, they may be at high altitude," Ashfall replied, his one eye through a targeting scope on one of the artillery cannons.

"Stay frosty? What do you think we've been doing the last half-hour?" one soldier grumbled out, throwing a glare at the moss-green stallion.

Another lengthy silence followed. Silence around us, that is. It was soon broken by Silver Edge.

"I... really don't see anything," he said, squinting upward.

"What gives? They should have been here by now," Night's brow raised, he then glanced in another direction, only to spot nothing again.

"Perhaps they called it off," I pondered aloud.

"Who called what off, though?" Ashfall drew away from the scope, scanning around with now a naked eye. "This just doesn't make any sense."

"False signal, perhaps?" suggested a half-bewildered Silver.

"The alarms aren't going anymore. Maybe it was a false alarm," I proceeded to look around the base.

Other soldiers had been leaving their positions from the looks of things. Some were returning to the mess hall. That some soon turned into many.

"Everypony's abandoning their stations. What do you guys think?" Night peered around us.

"All ponies, report to the chow house at once!" ordered a first sergeant a few yards away, all turning to look his direction.

"Guess we should do as he says," I turned, beginning to head for the mess hall, joining the other ponies as they too made their way.

***

Heavy chatter filled up the room as ponies of all branches discussed the situation, questioning what was happening and whether or not an attack was actually imminent.

Within a few minutes of gathering in the mess hall, the higher-ranks gathered on a table near the opposite end of the room. All went silent, minus one or two others who silently talked here and there. Sparkplug cleared his throat, all listening in closely.

"As it turns out, and we unfortunately are just now able to relay this information to each and every one of you. The alert raised earlier has now been deemed a false alarm."

"However," Arc Nobis then spoke up after Hardstaff. "Observing your performance, even under pressure, we have decided to consider this a little 'warm up'."

One pony raised her hoof. Arc glanced at her, nodding once.

"May we go back to sleep, then?"

"No, you may not. The day is young, but now, it is too late. Consider this situational-awareness training. Nopony goes to sleep until lights out tonight."

A soft, collective groan was heard around the room. The first lieutenant raised his hoof, gesturing for silence, which was exactly what he got.

"Everypony, make your final preparations. Battle simulations are about to commence."

It was at this moment, each of us knew well. This was going to be a long half-week left.

Author's Note

Another long overdue chapter. I must apologize for how short I kept the initial battle simulation, though. I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as I possibly could.

5. Like a Leaf in the Breeze

Later than ever, the week was over at last. Day after day of exhausting, nerve-wracking exercises carried out both on-base and in the surrounding forest. All in all, every simulation was different in its own way. Each exclusively had shocks and surprises at every turn, some that became quite nearly overwhelming to many of us.

Now came day of departure. In just a couple of short hours, we would be in Manehattan, back in our toasty little barrack apartments, and maybe attain some hot cocoa from a Buckin Donuts.

Early that morning, with our bags previously packed the evening prior, over our backs they were slung and out into the cold for, presumably, the final time. For now, that is.

Most of the airponies, I came to find out, already split for the skies. The majority of the enlisted of that branch consisted of pegasi, anyways. Those not and were left behind now had to wait for the next train after ours to take them back wherever they came from.

Nightpath, Silver Edge, Ashfall, and myself all gathered in line as all of us stood by patiently to march out to the station a couple miles away. By now, the blood was thick enough to where the cold didn't quite become as much of a bother as days before, all thanks to spending a good ninety-percent of the time stirring around in the elements.

Some of the Marines in the line took this brief opportunity to say their goodbyes to soldiers they may have befriended in their time here. Though it was far and few in between, a decent reminder it was that in spite of the competitive nature of the five branches, no pony was different.

Hoofsteps crunching softly in the snow, a mud-brown earth stallion stopped by my side, one hoof looped over his own chest and all parts of his body shivering beneath his green uniform jacket.

"It w-was nice meetin' ya, S-Star. Shame w-we couldn't make m-more out of it," his teeth chattered between words.

Smiling warmly, I nodded. "Perhaps another time, Skillshot. On the battlefield, maybe."

"H-hopefully," Skill nodded back and smiled, yanking his beanie further down over the back of his head whilst inadvertently uncovering more of his forehead and parts of his mane. "W-we can message each other, i-if ya want. Letters g-get sorted through and dispersed correctly if y-ya put my name on it."

"Hmm... alright," I smiled a bit more. "If that's the best way to keep in contact."

"Oh, i-it is," Skill nodded again, smiling. "Talk to ya l-later, Marine."

"Likewise, soldier," I lifted a hoof to gently nudge his shoulder. "Now go get yourself warm."

"W-will do," he shuddered out, trotting off to do just that.

Facing forward, my gaze set upon both Sergeant Hardstaff and First Lieutenant Arc Nobis moving to the front of the line.

"All right, Marines. Move out, on me!" ordered the grey-shaded earth pony, taking lead with Hardstaff falling in just behind.

Beginning to trot at a steady pace, all of us set off for the train home.

***

Reaching the station a good twelve or so minutes after departing Fort Fetlock for the final time, the majority of us gathered on the small platform along with a small group of other soldiers, who were also waiting for the train.

Evidently, somepony had been spilling bluffs, for our ride to Manehattan was nowhere in sight. Likeliness had us believing it to be running late, which was just what we needed.

Because not every pony could fit on the small wood structure, many utilized their bags for makeshift chairs to keep their rumps out of the snow and mud. I don't blame them, to be quite frank. At any moment I expected a squall to blow in and turn us all into Marine-cicles, if that's even a word.

Somewhere far in the corner, Arc and Hardstaff could be heard arguing over... something. Probably both questioning the train's absence. Over the collective chatter, their argument was difficult to decipher.

I allowed myself to relax against a garbage can, wings shifting slightly to make it more comfortable on my back. Already I felt the cold of the surface seep through my clothes. It could have been worse, though.

But then, out of the blue, the fast-approaching noise of galloping hooves transferring between gravel and snow caught many ponies' attention as a soldier skid to a halt in front of a Marine, who stood slowly.

With the chatter all around not ceasing, what they were saying remained muffled out. Both had looks of surprise, before something quite unexpected happened. They kissed!

Right in the center of all of us, these two stallions had begun making out. Others observing had growing blushes on their cheeks. Admittedly, I did, too. The worst part was, on my coat color, it was the most visible.

Although he and I haven't gone that far, my thoughts immediately lit up with one pony: Ray. No matter what I did after that, he simply couldn't be pushed out of my mind. Constantly glancing at the two below did not help much, either.

In the near distance chuffed our ride, the tracks and surrounding area beginning to vibrate and rumble as the steam plume rose up above the treetops around the nearby bend.

Strangely, though, the rumbling and vibrating became worse. For its current distance, this train sure caused quite a bit of a ruckus.

But moments later, it began to fade out to almost nothing, then came back gradually as the train approached, eventually screeching to a halt in front of the platform, its doors opening to reveal many near-vacant cars, all of which beginning to fill up with Marines one by one.

Standing, I filed in to the line, taking a seat toward the rear of the train in one of the few last-open cars. Laying my bag beneath the seat, I glanced out the window to the Marine and the soldier. The two exchanged a brief conversation, before hugging each other, and the Marine finally boarding the train.

The moment as observed utterly struck as heartfelt. Thankfully, it seemed nopony begun speaking of it from that moment on. Negatively, that is.

Waving a final goodbye, the soldier watched our train jolt forward, slowly picking up speed as it left the station. Soon, the only sight outside of the window became the green and white of snow-coated pine.

Easing into my seat, my eyelids fell shut. Might as well make the most out of this trip and grab an hour or two of sleep, I concluded.

***

Having returned safely in Manehattan, a rather large crowd of exhausted, hungry Marines stood in a sloppy line from the concrete steps leading to the entrance of the train station, all the way down to the edge of the street, all waiting to catch a carriage across the river.

Along with the remainder of the squad, the Sergeant included, the five of us agreed to stay in the warm building and relax some. In the meantime, Hardstaff bought the four of us each a fresh cup of coffee to our specifications, down to the very amount of cream and sugar preferred.

Since the first deployment, black coffee in some peculiar instance grew to be my preference. No cream, no milk, no sugar. Even Hardstaff saw me as insane. These days, that I could no longer doubt. Then again, the taste of the beverage mattered no more. So much as it can keep me awake, that's my central priority.

Easing back into my chair while the others engaged in conversation, one glance was given to a digital publication board on a nearby wall, reading them as they switched. One just so happened to flash on to the screen, the advertisement displaying information for Doctor Pastel's office.

Blinking, I took a long sip of coffee, mouth imperceptibly parting as the beverage flowed down my tube in a sole gulp. Shifting my gaze to the cup, predominantly the lid of it, the contemplation above initiated.

Raising up from the chair, I took my bag over one shoulder and the coffee in the other. "Hey, you guys, I think I'm gonna go stroll for a bit. I'll catch up later, alright?"

"Where are you going?" Silver asked, head cocking gently.

"Just a few laps around here and there. I won't be long, I promise," I partly answered. At least some of that statement was likely accurate. "Thanks for the coffee, Sergeant," I tapped a hoof to my cover's bill and started out of the large building.

Down the steps I went to street-level, making my way between the frequent businesspony on the damp, salted sidewalks. Much to my appreciation, Pastel's office was not too much of a distance from the station. About two blocks at the most. Still, it was where the office existed that continuously had me on edge.

Chugging down the remainder of the coffee quickly and tossing the cup in a garbage can from afar, cautiously I ventured into the shadowed alley, some light, fresh snow accumulation crunching beneath the weight of my hooves.

With all movements I made essentially silenced and no muggers in sight, a sense of relief rushed through and allowed for a quickened pace leading up to the office's only way in, the 'open' sign flashing proudly in sequence through the only window.

Taking and twisting the partially-frozen doorknob and giving a light yank, jarring loose ice and snow from above on top of my head, shattering in a cold, white mess all over both myself, the icy steps, and just a tad of the mat arranged on the inside of the meager lobby.

Reopening my eyes from defensively fending off the unanticipated snow bombs, they innocently met with those of the same small pony as last time, blinking twice with her cheeks inflated with food in her muzzle, a white-and-red carton of fried rice in one hoof, with a plastic spoon in the other.

For a brief moment, I stepped back outside to shake the snow off. Much to my prosperity, the backpack still strapped atop my back fended off snow from reaching my clothes, leaving a lot less of me soaked.

Reentering the office, bringing myself up to the desk and allowing the mare to swallow down her latest gulp of food, I spoke. "Is Doctor Pastel out?"

The bubbly mare shook her head with a smile. "Nope! But she is currently seeing another client. Do you have an appointment, Mr. Star?"

"I do no—" I froze, eying her suspiciously. "How do you know my name?"

"Pastel told me, then about her old companion, Haywalker. He truly sounds like a magnificent stallion, shame the two did not follow through with marriage."

"M-marriage?" I stumbled on the word, eyes widening.

The mare's pupils shrunk down dramatically, cheeks lighting up like fireworks. "Just go ahead and check in when you are ready, Doctor Pastel will take you in soon."

***

Paying the carriage puller for the ride and hopping out, into a pocket stretched a hoof, revealing an identification card that I renounced to the armed guard outside of the gate. He examined it, returning the card momentarily after and speaking softly through a hidden com somewhere on his uniform.

In that instance, the gate began sliding open in an adequate space for me to pass on through.

Beneath the dreary, overcast skies flew the Equestrian flag, waving nobly above all else on base in the strong oceanic breeze.

Taking in a deep, relaxing whiff of that very salt aromic air, a smile crept its way across my muzzle. The chilled, wintry atmosphere of late January unquestionably no longer made much if any at all impact. Practically living in a gelid climate such as Manehattan's took much effect on one's blood. Nonetheless, a steamy shower was in order once I unpack.

As I had begun the short journey to the permanent-housing barracks, a glance to the right had me staring directly at a group of newer-looking ponies, each with shovels in their hooves and grunting with effort as they struggled to clear enormous mounds of snow, likely out of punishment by the drill instructor. Just the memory of him itself left me shuddering, immediately forcing it out of my mind.

Attentively trotting up the ice-glazed concrete staircase and to the door of my shared room, with one hoof I tested the knob, finding it to be already unlocked, thanks to Nightpath. That inclined to be a hefty relief, knowing the keys were somewhere in my sole luggage bag, and myself not being in any sort of mood to go digging through it.

Twisting the rounded knob and pushing inward, I stepped into the heated space with the tiny kitchen to the right. With all lights on, it further confirmed Night was here. More so, he had just rounded into the small corridor where the bathroom sat between our beds and the kitchen.

However, something just was not right. Rather than a welcoming expression, his face was plastered with concern. This raised my suspicion.

"There you are, Star. I thought I'd have to call a party to search for you. Where were you?"

"Oh, I was seeing the—"

Night waved a hoof. "Nevermind that. Hardstaff wishes to see you in the session room, like, stat."

"Can't he wait a little bit? We just got back."

"Not just him, your commanding officer, too."

My eyes widened. "Hardstaff and Shadow want to see me?" This could not be good, I pondered.

The draft brown stallion nodded in response. "I will unpack your things for you while you are out, if you'd like."

"Please," I nodded back, exchanging my bag. "All right, I'll be back in a bit."

"Sure thing. And, don't keep any secrets this time around, aye?"

"Will do," I replied, starting back out through the door and into the cold.

What could they both want? the little voice in the back of my mind asked myself.

***

Reaching the top floor via elevator, I stepped off and veered left. One side of the hall was completely open, facing out towards a massive glass wall with a view of the city far across the river, and a vast atrium that led to ground level six stories below.

In a hoof I took the glass door's handle, pulling outward and stepping in just past the doorway and standing at attention, saluting. "Captain, Sergeant, you requested to see me?"

"Ah, yes. At ease, Lance Corporal," Shadow rose from his seat. I lowered my hoof and relaxed slightly.

"Captain Shadow has brought it to my attention that, as a colt, you had quite the hobby with weather and geology," Hardstaff spoke, eyes locked with mine.

"Sir? Come again?" I blinked twice, head tilting in bewilderment.

"Geology, such as earthquakes, volcanoes, that sort of thing. Correct me if I am wrong, Lance Corporal?"

After a brief silence, I nodded. "Yes, sir. It became a small passion for some time. Why do you ask, sirs?"

"We need your help," Hardstaff also stood, taking out a tiny black device from one of his pockets and pressing a button.

The room darkened, windows becoming shaded out by roll-out blinds. On the wall to my right sat a digital screen almost the width and length of the wall it rested on. Taking some steps back toward the other two, my eyes set on the screen as it booted up.

In just a few moments time, the screen now projected multiple different-colored pictures, each similar in their own way. They were maps.

"This is... Manehattan. What is all of this?" I questioned, examining each map on all four corners.

"It has been brought to our attention by the control center that a cluster of tremors, many of which a minuscule magnitude, recently begun popping up approximately forty nautical miles east-southeast of Manehattan," Shadow explained, walking to my side.

"Earthquake swarm? Intriguing, but peculiar. I thought they were more common on the west coast?" I glanced at him.

"They are." Hardstaff replied instead. "We are just as puzzled as you are, Lance Corporal. That is why we hoped to hear your speculation for a second opinion."

"Well," I shifted, lifting a hoof to my chin and rubbing. "There could be numerous possibilities. Most likely one is some old fault is relieving some stress."

"That's the tricky part, there are no faults this close to the shoreline," Shadow added.

"Any known faults. They do not necessarily have to be large to cause a ruckus. Have they been reported by anypony else? Civilians?"

"None, so far," Hardstaff's head shook gently. "Which is a relief. Quite frankly, the number one thing we need on our shoulders is mass hysteria, that Manehattan may break off and slide into the ocean."

"That's a Los Pegasus saying, Sergeant," Shadow matter-of-factually said.

"The same could very well work here," Hardstaff shrugged his shoulders. "What are your thoughts, Lance Corporal?"

Glancing over the maps a third time, noting the quake epicenters far out to sea, I turned to them both. "Keep a close watch on it, just in case. Likeliness is, it is not anything more than relieved buildup. Alternatively, worst case scenario is, we could be looking at a major seismic event in the near future."

"Near future?" Hardstaff blinked. "Explain yourself."

"Well... it could happen in a few minutes, it could happen next week, it could happen next year. You cannot predict earthquakes. That is a science not yet—excuse me—not even remotely close to becoming mastered."

"Hmmm..." Shadow paused to think, lowering his hoof. "That is as decent enough an answer as any other. Lance Corporal, would you be interested in joining the seismology team to aid in solving the source?"

"If that is my next assignment, then I fail to see why not. On the contrary, I do not know how much of a help I will be to the team," I responded with well the opposite of confidence.

"Any sort of help works. What ever you can do will likely push to an advantage later on," Shadow nodded once. "Thank you for your time, Lance Corporal. I will inform you when our next meeting shall be."

Author's Note

Bit of a shorter chapter this is, but don't worry. There's a mini-climax coming soon. :ajsmug:

17. Silent Premonition

"Good evening, mares and gentlecolts. On behalf of all of us, here at Generation Technologies Incorporated, and my dearest assistant who, sadly, could not attend for personal reasons, we thank you for joining us on this wonderful night!"

The room had fallen silent for the younger-looking maroon unicorn stood atop a platform beside the DJ booth, holding a microphone in his hoof and a wine glass in a steady magical hold. Ponies gathered around, eyes fixated on him.

"Ah, well, I have not seen this many ponies in one spot since my high school graduation. This is better, take my word for it."

A few small chuckles went around the audience.

"Anyways, I see all of you are having a good time. Or, most of you. I hope. I can't read anypony's mind."

Some more brief laughs.

"Heheh. So, for the sake of the party, I will keep this as short as can be, so all of you can go back to what ever it was that you may have been doing before I so rudely interrupted, which is what I'm sure some of you are saying right this minute."

Pausing, clearing his throat, he began. "In my colt days, I dreamed of bettering the world. Developing technological advances and helping to ensure the dreams of others come true. By the time I was in my late teens, I obtained my start. That... one, little kick, which set off a figurative landslide, where I then received my cutie mark."

"Today, I could not be more thankful for the position I currently stand, and without you, I could not have fulfilled my destiny. Without you, I could not be here, standing in this multi-billion-bit skyscraper, droning on about serving millions across Equestria, which takes me to my next statement."

The stallion paused a second time, sipping from a small glass of water and clearing his throat again.

"As the founder and CEO of Generation Technologies—or GenTech, for short—I am proud to announce that, our operations shall soon extend beyond that of military weaponry and home electronics. In the not-so-distant year of 2016, GenTech will expand into the medical field to team up with the brightest minds around the globe, working to defeat the deadliest, incurable sicknesses known to ponykind."

Stomping and clapping erupted in the room. A few ponies here and there whistled for joy. Shadow, whom I stood beside along with Silver Edge, remained strangely silent.

"With advancements in genetics, medicinal, and disease research, I estimate no more than ten years in the future, the world shall be rid of any and all forms of the feather flu, polio, cancer, even asthma! All of these terrible illnesses, history, left in the past!"

"Who knows, we may even go further than that! Immortality, a trait inherited by our dear alicorn leaders. What if immortality... became a public option? I imagine most, if not all of you, would take that offer. Who wouldn't?! In the ever-growing field of genetic modification and magic in the medical field, it is already possible!"

"Mares and gentlecolts, beginning later this year, the first ever Super-soldier Research Program hosted by none other than GenTech is set to commence. Assuming all goes to plan, if immortality is truly achieved, there shall be nothing to prevent ponies such as you and I from extending our lives by, I dunno, a couple thousand years?"

Some gasps followed, along with more clapping and cheering. Silver and I exchanged uncanny looks with one another, while Shadow kept his grimace focused on the unicorn, taking a slow swig of whiskey in his glass.

"At GenTech, anything is possible. Further expanding upon the dream to help others and better the future, we shall work with all of you to secure it for generations to come!"

Leaning toward me, Silver muttered, "What could go wrong?"

Sharing the skeptical look on his face, I responded with a slow, concurring nod.

"Now... enough of that," the stallion waved his hoof. "The rest shall be discussed in the press meeting. But, for now, kick back, relax, drinks are complimentary if you've yet to stop by the juice bar. And again, thank you everypony for coming. For those of you proudly serving in our wonderful nation's military, I salute you."

Nodding once, smiling to the crowd, the stallion stepped down from the carpeted platform, handing the microphone to the white unicorn disk jockey at her rig who, with a scratch of a record, began a new track that brought cheers out of those on the dance floor.

"Super soldiers..." snorted Shadow, finishing off his golden beverage. "He's insane."

"We're a pacifist nation as it is, what need is there for them?" commented Silver.

The greenish-blue earth pony, from top to bottom in dress whites, fixed on to the beige unicorn. "We may have pacifist ideals, that does not make us a fully-peaceful country, Marine. We would not be here, dressed up, at this party if it weren't for the defense council."

"Who are they?" I questioned.

"Let's just say, they give all orders to ponies like myself. I take orders from them, you take orders from me. It forms a nice, flowing system that trickles all the way to the bottom. Without them, we would not exist. Princess Luna would not have been granted power to reform her army and turn it into what it is today. Truth be told, the defense council, in a way, holds more power than the princesses combined."

"To be quite frank, I would be far from shocked if the council gave the green light to Armet. For as open as I am to the new stuff, this is one rare time where I must shake my head and pray that nothing goes awry," explained Shadow.

Tilting my head, I asked, "Who's Armet?"

Gesturing his glass-holding hoof as well as his head toward the maroon unicorn, he stared off toward him as he conversed with other ponies. "Armet Mace. Made a fortune off of his military-grade weaponry and telecommunications. Helped us win the short conflict in Tjorbahn back in '04, the hostage situation in Valkyria in '09, even end the war in the Eastern Kingdoms after rolling out a new type of machine gun."

"Since then, he's begun mass-producing anything technological that comes to mind, finding new ways to power things with magic in replacement of electricity in an effort to combat the environmental effects of extreme industrialization. A few times he's contacted the Head of the Lunar Navy, offering to refurbish our ships with the latest in radar and sonar, and every little detail in between. Even presented plans for a supercarrier, but for a high cost."

"He seems like a stallion of generosity, considering how much he donates to charities across Equestria, how he treats current and former armed service members, but any right-minded pony would know he is in it for the publicity more than anything," Shadow grumbled at the end.

Silver and I again exchanged looks, as likely we both began questioning his credibility. A smaller part of me flashed the word jealousy in my head, which may have been the case, but unlikely. Though, not often did I tend to doubt the captain. Then again, I suppose outside of the military was a whole other world.

"I'm... going to go get a drink," I then turned away, weaving between ponies on my way to the bar.

Ashfall and Anchorage had not moved from their stools on the far left of the taproom, with laughs coming from them and two other uniformed stallions standing in their little circle, each with a drink in their hoof.

The style of uniform which the other ponies wore told me that they were Army. The black along with the blue gold-striped pants, and the matching black berets gave it away, along with their rank insignias. They have certainly changed since my father was in.

I squeezed up between a couple of mares politely, watching the bartender tap one hoof to the beat of the music while using the other to shake a canister and pour out a blue slushy-like drink into a margarita glass, sprinkling a pinch of sugar on top, and placing a lime slice along the edge. The mare who ordered it giggled excitedly as it slid her way further down.

Wiping down the counter with a single swipe of a clean cloth, the bartender glanced up to me. "Hey, there. What'll it be?"

"You got cider?" I asked with a questionable grin.

"Non-alcoholic or alcoholic?" he turned around, opening a mini-fridge opposite of the counter.

"Alcoholic, please," I responded, reaching back to grab for my wallet, before realizing. Right, complimentary. That, and I didn't exactly grab my wallet before leaving.

Must I say, quickest bartender I have ever seen? Not even a minute it took for him to scramble the mixture, pour it into a basic glass mug, and scrape off the foam head that had begun to flow over the tops, before finally sliding it right into my hoof.

Man, if I were allowed to, and if I had money on me to begin with, I'd tip him for such a stupendous job, and for the show he performs while doing it.

Heading back to Silver and Shadow, I stopped a short distance as I emerged from a cluster of ponies. The two of them stood in a tight group, talking with who? Armet Mace. Oh boy. Shadow did not appear too exultant, either.

Silver had already peeked in my direction, leaving me without a choice but to join them. Perhaps it was the fact that somepony with such wealth and power was right here in front of me that had my heart pumping, and anxiety flowing through my veins. The voice in my head repeated the words don't notice me, don't notice me, don't bring me into the conversation as I meandered up beside Silver.

"So, Captain, still not keen on it, or would you like a second glance at the project plans? If there is anything you find concerning about it, I can order changes to your liking," the unicorn persuaded, adjusting his tie with a faint glow of his horn.

"I am most concerned about the price, Armet. We went over this. I am not in charge of funding, but, I may speak on behalf of the fleet admiral and the Head of the Navy when I say two and a half billion bits for a ship we have no need for is outrageous," Shadow firmly asserted.

The maroon stallion's maw parted, only to pause himself before the words came out. He was silent in a muse for a few moments. "What if I speak to the Head myself, and he says yes?"

"Then it is up to her highness to decide," Shadow commented, blinking neutrally. "I am sorry. While I am all for the best and the newest for my crew, my ship is fine the way it is. We do not need a bigger, badder variant. Just who are we attempting to strike fear into, Armet?"

"The enemy, Shadow. The enemy. To prove who Equestrians are, and that an attack on our homeland shall not force us into our homes while they run rampant in our cities, bombing office towers and preschools, all because of mistreatment based on a few locals," he said, lowering the volume of his voice to keep it between them two, despite Silver and I standing directly beside them both.

Furrowing an eyebrow while promptly swallowing the half-swig of his newly-replenished alcoholic beverage, Shadow rejoined with, "What enemy? I don't believe we are on the same page with how we classify Equestria's foes."

"You know just what I am talking about, Shadow. I admire your ability to keep cool with your deception, but it does not go unnoticed," Armet's eyes darted to the left, him taking note of our presence. "Let us meet at a later time, we will discuss this then."

"Whatever you say, Armet," he curtly said, hoping to put a swift end to the conversation.

Placing a hoof on the captain's shoulder, the unicorn leaned in, holding his volume low. "Listen, I want a civilized conversation between the both of us. That cannot be achieved if you are unwilling to hear what I have to say before I even say it."

"Because I am uninterested, as plain and simple as that. By all means, share it with the Head of the Navy, share it with the defense council, hell, mail it to Canterlot for the princesses to decide. This is not my decision to make. However, that does not mean you have my support. Is that clear?"

Recoiling back just slightly, faintly frowning, the unicorn responded with a gentle nod. "I understand." It wasn't a moment later when his attention returned to me and Silver, where he regained a warm, genuine smile. "How are you two enjoying the party?"

Caught off guard mid-sip, I spit the contents in my mouth back into the glass, placing a hoof under my chin, coughing, and wiping my muzzle free of leftover cider before clearing my throat, returning a smile to wave off the awkward moment. "It's wonderful, sir. Best party since graduation."

The instant the words left my maw, a mental hoof smacked me in the back of the head. That was easily one of the stupider things I've said thus far, considering this was the first party I have attended since graduation. Silver took notice, tossing me a look. Thankfully, Shadow nor Armet caught on. Rather than with words, Silver answered with an innocent nod of his head and a matching smile that Shadow certainly did not overlook.

"Well, so it seems it was not a bust after all," Armet flashed a sly grin at the captain, who grumbled incoherently as he raised his drink to his mouth to sip. "Still, so much work to be done. It will not be long before this place is put to the true test. Have to have the strongest and the tallest around, am I right?"

Silence between myself, Silver, and Shadow followed the maroon stallion's comment, with me blinking in bewilderment. Chuckling with what sounded to be embarrassment, and grinning further to cover it up, Armet proceeded to stand tall and offer a hoof out to the captain.

"Shadow, it was lovely to meet you once more. I promise, next time shall include less hostility, yes?"

Briefly examining his outreached hoof, Shadow took it and shook with his own firmly, his expression level and kept cool, nodding once. "I suppose that can be arranged."

Shifting his attention to me next, Armet extended his hoof toward me, which I too shook, as did Silver a moment after. "It was nice to meet you two as well, and thank you for your contributions to Equestria."

After lowering his hoof and trotting off the other way, I noticed Silver mouth the words, "You're welcome?" before our eyes locked with one another, trading muddled glances for the third time that night.

"Now, this may be out of the blue, but... has anypony seen the second lieutenant?" Shadow mentioned, his gaze fixing between the two of us.

I blinked twice. "Sure we did, he was downstairs when we arrived."

Scanning around him, some concern grew on Shadow's expression. "I thought he would have found me by now. I should go find him, at least."

Shrugging, I nodded in subtle agreement as he left as well, leaving Silver and I to our selves.

Again.

***

The key card swiped through the slot, with the lock it was wired to clicking not a moment later, followed by the door sliding wide open for the iron-grey earth pony standing by. Taking one more second to check his surroundings, he entered the room, allowing the door to shut itself behind him and lock.

Most of the computer monitors in the vast room were idle or off entirely, with tiny lights of red, blue, green, and yellow up and down the centers of equally-sized server towers blinking rapidly in patterns. Faint beeps of the computers processing held their place above the pony's silenced hoofsteps, done to avoid sound sensors that would trigger an alarm if they were currently active.

Passing a desk, his shoulder caught the edge in the shadowed room, unintentionally tipping a plastic cup with three pens sticking out the top. In a swift, quiet motion, he snatched the cup in one hoof, and the pens in his other a mere millisecond prior to impact on the tiled floor, all without breaking a sweat.

He placed the cup and pens in their previous position on the desk ledge, cautiously advancing to a small monitor along the wall, visibly wired to the alarm in the room, and swiped the lanyard card a second time, before a new screen opened. From there, as simple as can be, with the press of the 'enter' key, the system deactivated, granting him to relieve the breath he held in the minute it took to cross not an eighth of the room's length.

"All right, you sneaky bastard, it'll take more than a noise detector to stop me," he muttered, advancing down the narrow aisle between the seemingly countless rows of electronic towers, housing billions of bytes of data all at once. Along the way, he extracted a small black device from his opposite pocket, twisting it gently in his hoof while he searched for a driver port.

About half way through, he paused, strolling between two towers on the left row and taking hold of a short wire hooked into a port on one of the disabled hard drives, pushing a plastic knob on the side of the device to open the plug and insert it into the port at the other end of the wire.

A quiet beep of the device activating perked his ear, a blue bar on the flat face glowing to display the flash driver's capacity, with the hard drive powering up under the smaller device. Looking down, the purple eyes of the stallion focused solely on the blue bar while data from the server copied and extracted itself onto the flash drive, the bar growing steadily until filling entirely.

Removing the device from the plug, the larger drive shut off instantaneously. He tucked it back into his pocket, moving the way he came on his way to the door. Before leaving, he re-initiated the noise sensors, timed to boot up just perfectly as soon as the door slid closed behind him, leaving not a trace of his visit—all, but a conspicuous jet black follicle of Arc Nobis' mane fallen on a tile between towers.

34. Some Time For Him

It had not been a full twenty-four hours after making port until I was on the second train to Canterlot for post-deployment leave. Having not received much rest after getting off the ship, I spent what was left of the night packing a few things, and throughout the first leg of the trip, I slept cuddled up to my little backpack that I have owned since long before the Marines. Anypony who knew better would make that judgement with a single glance.

After a short layover in Whitetail Woods, the much shorter portion of the trip, the steep and partially dark ascent from passing through so many tunnels went unperturbed. The book Night had gifted me back when I first got to Officer School, The Life of a Lunar Marine, had gone neglected for so long after that horrible time, so this provided the prime opportunity to get caught up, even if it meant making it through only three short chapters in that time span.

Once on the platform in Canterlot, I paused to take in a deep whiff of the becoming-afternoon air. There was a hint of dampness, one that varied greatly day by day. Some days it can be prominent, which is accompanied by high humidity levels, a sign of recent rainfall, or simply lingering morning dew. To me, it smelled like home.

As to be expected on a warm, cloudless July day, ponies packed the streets every which way. Not to the point where passage is hindered, but what small town folk might consider chaotic. In my case, this was nothing compared to the hustle and bustle of Manehattan.

Some decorations left over from the Summer Sun Celebration a couple of weeks prior were still being taken down from storefronts and light poles. Man, just one more thing I missed while I was away. Even though, I'm fairly certain that this year's celebration didn't take place in Canterlot. Regardless, every city held their own festivities for the national holiday.

My journey took me to the far north part of town to a three-story flower shop on the corner of a four-way intersection, roughly a block from the edge of the city bordering the upper portion of the mountain. I strolled up along the right side of the building to a metal staircase and made my way up to the second-story door with my keys out and ready.

As I was about to slip the key into the lock, a voice from my right and above caught my attention. "Hey, Star."

I glanced up to the staircase landing, where a tan unicorn mare with a curled auburn dressed in a rather warm-looking grey button-up coat. "Hey... Rose," I smiled as genuine as I could muster. How do we always bump into each other with impeccable timing? "Long time no see."

"Well, that's to be expected. You're a Marine, you're busy in Manehattan doing what ever it is you do," the tan mare said as she made her way down and pulled up short. She grinned and poked gently at my nose.

I furrowed a brow at that, smirking. "You mean the talented, manipulative-in-a-good-way spy Rose Shine does not have a clue of what this stallion does for a living?"

Rose huffed, poking at my chest now. "Oh, quiet you! While it's part of my job to know everything about every pony I associate with, I chose to respect your space from now on."

"Thank you," I nodded. "Not too much space, though. We are still friends."

"A mare can hope," she laughed sheepishly. "What I did back then, it was... wrong. I'll apologize for it every chance I get."

I waved my hoof. "One apology is enough. Looking back now, I see you only doing your job. We both have ours to do, I understand that now."

She nodded slowly in acknowledgement. In that instance, the two of us embraced cordially. Above all else, Rose and I remained close, even if contact between one another was a rarity nowadays.

"It's good to see you again, Star Shooter," she said.

"Likewise," I responded, releasing her and smiling.

"What brings you back home? Leave?"

I nodded. "Yeah, post-deployment. Got off the ship last night, actually."

"Well, isn't that obvious," she half-smirked. "Your eyes are bagging a little. Tell me you slept on the train at least?"

I shrugged, head dancing a little. "As much as I could on the first leg. I should be fine for the rest of the day." I couldn't be so sure about that.

The mare's eyebrow cocked, likely questioning the validity of my statement, but she proceeded no further on the topic. "That's good to hear at least." She then drew in a breath and sighed it off in a content manner. "Well, hey, it was good seeing you. Sorry I can't stick around a bit longer, I've got to be at the train depot in a half hour."

"Oh really? Where are you heading?"

"Up north," she replied with a smile.

"How vague," I grinned smugly. By now I was well accustomed to the fact that my upstairs neighbor works for an unbeknownst-to-the-public intelligence organization. "Assignment?"

She nodded firmly. "Small one, but yes. Should only take a few days."

"I take it that's what the coat is for?" I gestured toward it with my hoof.

"Hmph, clever stallion." Rose winked. "Catch you around, Star Shooter."

"You, too. Stay safe, you hear?"

"You know I will," she responded, puffing her chest out a bit. "Hope you'll be here when I get back."

"We'll see." I hugged her once more, a lot more brief this time. After that, she walked around and headed downstairs, giving one last glance before she disappeared around the corner.

Well, she was right about one thing. I could use the sleep. In fact, that is precisely what I planned to do as soon as I stepped hoof inside my uncomfortably warm, pistachio green-painted home. Time to kick on the air conditioning and hit the sack for the afternoon.

***

As it turned out, that 'nap' I had in mind ended up becoming a full slumber. Only once near eleven that night did I wake briefly to hunt down some food before passing out again for the remainder of the night, and it took me until morning to fully comprehend just how much I had slept.

After a couple more hours of laziness on the couch watching television, the urge to unpack my bag took hold and I soon found myself in the bedroom, folding and re-folding my clothes, especially the ones still in my dresser.

Then, I found something of mine I had completely neglected for a year—my own personal laptop. Not one lent by the Marines for work use only, one I had owned for roughly three years at this point. Some dust had collected on the back of it while it sat in my dresser, all of which burst in a cloud of grey particles that had me sneezing for a couple of minutes afterward.

How I had managed to forget about my own computer was beyond me. Though, I suppose that is what work and sleep deprivation over a long period of time can do to a pony. Needless to say, finding it made my somewhat decent start of a day better. The memory hit me that I had contemplated bringing it along for boot camp last year, and thank the heavens that I didn't. Who knows what the military would do with it. They could send it back like they do with clothes on the first night, but what if somepony stole it from my doorstep?

By evening, following an extensive search for the power cord in order to boot up the device after thirteen months of overall neglect, thoughts of dinner came to mind and what I should have. At some point it would serve me best to head out and buy some groceries for the week and not rely on takeout, which would surely leave me with far less money to venture back to Manehattan with.

After showering, preparing to head out for a last minute trip to the store, my phone started vibrating loudly against my nightstand. The noise in itself was startling at first, and my hoof clapped the wooden floor of my bedroom out of reflex. It eventually stopped, and upon picking the little tap-screen device up in one hoof, I read the notification on the lock screen. It was a message from Ray, reading, "Hey. What are you doing?"

A small smile grew on my muzzle. I sat upright and began tapping the screen to respond. "Chilling at home, just took a shower. What about you?"

Almost instantly, he was typing back. It wasn't even a minute before his reply came through. "Manehattan or Canterlot?"

"Canterlot," was my first reply, followed by, "Why do you ask?"

"Can I come over? Like, now?"

That raised my eyebrow a bit. Something wasn't right with him.

"Sure, I'll get ready. What's up?"

"We'll talk when I get there."

My lips curled into a glower as mild concern took hold. While excited to be seeing him again so soon, his demeanor as suggested by his curt text messages were worrying to say the least, seeing how collected or joyous of a pegasus he can be most of the time when he isn't anxious about me deploying.

It wasn't more than around seven minutes when a knock came on my door. Trotting straight from the bathroom, my hoof took the lock and the knob and twisted, opening the door wide for the gold pegasus stallion stood on the outside.

A welcoming smile grew on my muzzle to hide apparent my nervousness of being in his presence. "Hey, Ray."

"Hey!" he returned the smile, albeit meekly. If mine was considered nervous, what would his be? "May I come in?"

"Of course!" I fell back a few paces, making room in the narrow doorway for him to enter, closing the door behind him. "What are you doing in Canterlot?"

"Last minute work stuff, visiting a friend. Today is my last full day here," he replied, spinning to face me.

The look on my face turned mildly suspicious. "Who's this 'friend'?"

Ray rolled his eyes, scoffing amiably amid the weight he was discernibly carrying. "Coworker of mine, or a former one. We aren't dating."

"Uh huh." I nodded, and we exchanged a hoof around each others' necks. "You don't look so good. Is everything okay?"

After our quick embrace, Ray shuddered a sigh and pressed a hoof to his forehead in distress. "No, I'm..." he groaned. "There's a lot on my mind right now, and I wanted to talk to you about it."

I nodded comprehensively. "Of course. You know I'm open to talk about whatever if it helps."

"I've been chosen for auditions to be the next co-host of Equestria Today! They... I guess, somehow, had my name in a lottery and they chose ten names."

I suddenly beamed for him. "That's great! But, what's Equestria Today?"

He spun to look me dead in the eye with a look of utter shock. "You don't know what Equestria Today is?" I shook my head, and he gasped. "They're the biggest radio talk show in the country! They talk about everything, you name it! They have shows in the morning and afternoon, sometimes evening when it's hoofball season."

"And they're looking for a new co-host? What happened to the old one?"

"Retired. The auditions are next month, in Manehattan at their main studio. I... I'm just... I'm nervous!" Ray sputtered, pacing in circles in front of the coffee table, before he plopped himself down on the couch. "Oh god, Star. Do you know how big of an opportunity this is?"

"I would say your pacing a moment ago and the anxiety you're expressing says enough," I said, smiling warmly, heading to the kitchen and bringing him a glass of water.

Ray took the glass rather swiftly and downed half of its contents in just a few seconds and four enormous gulps, before he planted it on the table with a small thud and exhaled. His emerald cores lifted slowly and met my gaze. "This is big, Star. This could be exactly what I was looking for! The career of a lifetime, the co-host of Equestria Today!"

"I'd tune in just to hear your voice if I ever get my hooves on a radio," I grinned, that causing him to blush just a tad.

"But, what if I... screw it up?" his look of worry turned grave. "I'm sure they look for a lot in their list of ponies to choose from. What if I'm not good enough for the show?"

I chuckled a little at that, sitting rather close beside Ray. "Would they have your name on the docket if you were incapable of being a part of the biggest radio conglomerate in Equestria? Clearly they are aware of your work in the past to know you have potential."

"I... guess so," he looked down, frowning. He drew in a sharp breath and relaxed his posture. "Perhaps I am being a bit melodramatic."

"Maybe just a bit. Everypony gets nervous over something some time in their lives. Besides, this could be precisely what you have been looking for career-wise."

"It is. It really is!" Ray shifted a bit, mainly to scoot against my side. He muttered a curse under his breath, looking over at me. "It's a month away, there's so much I have to do before then. I... I have to buy a suit, I have to make hotel arrangements, I have to—"

"Hey, hey. Shhh..." I gently pressed my hoof to his lips, stopping him. I removed it when he went quiet and proceeded to speak. "How's about we go out, hit the town, get your mind off of it?" I offered, setting a hoof on his opposite shoulder with my arm around his back.

The gold pegasus' ear twitched. "And do what...?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Walk around, have dinner somewhere, watch a movie, I dunno. Anything to put your mind elsewhere so you don't stress yourself into sickness, and to get us both out of this stuffy apartment."

"Are you... are you sure you want to do that, Star? I mean, last time we watched a movie..."

"I'll be fine. Trust me." I offered a genuine smile, waving my hoof. If I'm to overcome these habits of randomized panic attacks, I might as well go right to the source and face it.

"Okay," he said skeptically, heading for the door. I followed him out, locking up behind us, before we ventured out onto the near-empty street.

The further into Canterlot we moved, the busier every turn and plaza were. Ponies bumbled about the post-dusk city while street lights illuminated on cue in a simultaneous manner. A lukewarm breeze gently rustled trees and bushes that impeccably divided two sides of the cobble roads that spanned throughout modern Canterlot, and the moderately darkened, narrow paths riddled with old shops now considered alleyways to many Canterlotians went traveled by a bare few.

Some of the higher end restaurants bustled with noise, consisting of classical music performed by bands of one or three, along with the energetic chatter of ponies gossiping and confabulating over their meals. Stores kept their doors wide open to evening shoppers, and to freshen up their establishments from fumes of new clothing pervading the air within.

"So... where are you taking us?" he questioned, sporting a small smile that hinted of his curiosity.

I glanced over my shoulder, simpering warmly. "Somewhere I myself have not been in three years."

We rolled up to the central plaza, a mere three and a half blocks from the Canterlot Palace. It was a wide open space, prominently circular in shape, lined with building after building, shop after shop, and so forth. In center lie a park-like space with patches of grass and trimmed trees of all shapes and sizes, complete with a giant rounded fountain topped off by a statue roughly two stories in height, a rather new addition to the city only four years prior.

It was an immaculate marble carving of the two alicorn sisters, each with their respective celestial body encompassed in their individual magical auras. Both the granite-made sun and moon levitated above their commanding alicorn, a feature praised by thousands as an advanced form of perfected permanent enchantment. Between the two alicorns, shared in both of their hooves, rested a third body—a symbol of their unified, unwavering protection of the world, a hallmark of their light to guide ponykind to a future of peace and harmony.

The water inside the fountain glowed a bluish white, brightened by the bulbs installed asymmetrically at the bottom of the pool. The pedestal on which the sisters stood upon trickled a steady, thin waterfall with smaller jets shooting out the sides of the circular podium that landed in the pool below. Even against the noise of crowds, the ambience of the fountain created a relaxing atmosphere around the entire square. Which reminds me—why call it a square if the place is particularly in the shape of a decagon?

We stopped closer to the fountain so Ray could take in the scene. He was beaming from ear to ear, studying the plaza and its every gorgeous detail. "Wow, Star."

It brought a smile to my muzzle, hearing him at a loss for words. "Mmhmm?"

"I've seen this place on, like, pictures and in newspapers, but never in person," he said, glancing my way.

"Do you like it?" my head cocked, retaining the smile I had.

"It's gorgeous," was his reply, looking around again, then up at the sky, dotted everywhere with twinkling stars, unperturbed by the faint light pollution of the city.

I gently tapped his arm to grab his attention after letting him gawk for a few seconds. "Hey, I see the place. Want me to get us a table while you soak up the moon?"

Ray brought his gaze down to me, blinking, then laughing. "No, let's go."

At that, I led him toward a bistro on the east side of the plaza, to the left of where we came from. It sat on the corner of another cobble road, one of four every 90 degrees around the square. Roll-up walls lined the outside for comfortable nights such as tonight, and a black canopy now stretched along the outside for a waiting area and more tables as compared to the simple tables with umbrellas that it once had.

We took a seat at an outdoor table, beneath the canopy, and our waitress took drink orders while we checked out the menu, long revised since I was last here. More dinner selections had been added, namely in the pasta and sandwich sections.

Their famed manticore burgers continued to hold the top spot on the menu, though it seemed out of the few dining tonight that nopony had interest for it. Neither did I, quite honestly. Too greasy for my liking. Plus, burgers were more of a lunch dish.

"What are you having?" Ray lowered his menu a bit to look across at me. I didn't hear him somehow and thus didn't reply. "Star?" Again, no response. "Yoohoo! Star?"

"Hmm?" I glanced up, blinking a couple of times, unaware that I was zoning out.

"What are you having?"

"Oh, uh..." my eyes darted between him and the menu. "I'm not sure yet."

The two of us went quiet again as we pondered. A minute or two was spent thoroughly reading over every meal listed in my mind. When I settled with a decision, I closed the booklet and set it down in front of me, looking up to see Ray with his hooves neatly together on the table and those emerald irides of his meeting mine. I stared back in silence for a lengthy moment, puzzled. "What?"

The gold pegasus stared, sporting a mien of consternation. "Hey, you alright? You seem a little... off," he mentioned, examining me briefly.

I again blinked. "Define off?"

"Different than your norm. Or the norm that I am familiar with."

I leaned my elbow on the table and tipped my chin downward, smirking faintly. "Heh. If only you knew me before Manehattan, I was a completely different pony then."

My response might have just been a bit unsettling for him, as he gave me a weird look after that, only to glance over at our waitress as she brought our drinks on a metallic tray.

It wasn't long after she left when a casual question from Ray emerged. "So, how was... deployment?"

I waited to take a long, refreshing swig of my fizzy beverage. "It was... alright, I suppose," I said, waving my hoof. "Stressful, but like... not in a bad way." Perhaps that was a question that is best left unasked.

The pegasus gave me a questionable look. "'Stressful'? How so?"

"Just demanding work. Twelve, thirteen, sometimes fourteen hour shifts. I'm used to them every day, but, we sort of had a surplus of sailors, so I got a bit of a break this time around."

"So, we... aren't at war?"

My ears stood up attentively and I paused before I could take another sip of my drink, looking at him directly. "What?"

"I read a couple of days ago in Empire Equine that there was an incident at sea that involved a close call with the A... Aj... Ajerstan?" He stopped to ponder the pronunciation. "Yeah, Ajerstan. Their navy. Did that happen?"

I had definitely been caught off guard here, and there was only myself to blame for that. Taking a glance at the glass in front of me, for a moment did I consider ordering a hard cider as a second, because I would need it from this point forward.

"Isn't Empire Equine a gossip magazine?" I retorted, a temporary dodge to gather my thoughts and consider my options.

"It is, but they have small news articles in weekly issues, and that was on the second page." His look of intuition became more prominent, sending a nervous chill cascading to my chest. "Is everything all right?"

"As things can be," I replied, sighing and rubbing my forehead. "I'm not at liberty to tell you everything that happened, but I will say that things could have been much worse."

Ray nodded comprehensively, taking immediate notice of the reluctance I displayed on the matter. "I understand. I won't pressure you. As long as you are okay, that is what matters to me," he offered a thin smile.

I let off a low exhale, a sign of relief on my part to him, and I lifted my head a little bit to repay a meek simper. "I'll wait for things to cool down a bit. I have a hunch that we're not done with each other."

"If what I read is true, then yeah," he nodded again, this time in agreement. "The word 'war' would send everypony into a total tailspin."

That I could concur with. History shows Equestrians don't take well to news of conflict, especially if it involves our own country. The last major war that we have taken part in was one against the griffons in 1987, years before my time. My father's father—my grandfather whom I have never met—served in that one. Equestria's forces suffered enormous losses, totaling up to roughly 2,600 soldier fatalities and well over 25,000 casualties, both military and civilian, and threw the Griffon Empire into the economic spiral it has yet to recover from.

"Excuse me," a male voice came from my right, hinted with the timbre of a pompous Canterlot elite. "Pardon me, I could not help overhearing, but, are you two... dating?"

I glanced up promptly at the vest-wearing unicorn, mane combed back as neatly as one could imagine. The edge of his tone in his last words caused the fur on the back of my neck to bristle. "What would you call dating?"

"The two of you—a stallion and another stallion, both pegasi, having dinner at an adorned establishment. Ponies do not dine here on a regular basis, you know."

That compelled my eyebrow to arch suspiciously. "They sell burgers here as a main course. What about this place could possibly make it 'adorned'?"

"Why, the architecture! The table you occupy!" He tapped his hoof along the edge of the cloth-covered table. "The chairs you sit in!" He gestured toward the wrought iron seats. "More importantly, the fact that this here restaurant is located in the capital of Equestria!"

Ray's skin between his wings crawled at that. I squinted slightly at this pony. "Is there a point here you are trying to make?" said Ray.

"You two are DATING!" the stallion addressed, grabbing the attention of everypony at the restaurant, and even a few outside who were walking by.

My expression formed into a faint scowl. "So what if we are? That is not any of your business."

"Of course it is!" he pressed his hooves onto the table and leaned his head down toward me. "I shall not settle with..." the unicorn scoffed haughtily, "A... homosexual couple, dining at my bistro!"

Hostility in my crimson gaze grew more apparent as I honed in on the haughty unicorn. The legs of my chair screeched against the stone ground as I slid back, rising to all fours. The snooty stallion might have retreated a bit when I stood at full height, still taller than him if I accounted his horn with his height.

My eyes momentarily darted to Ray, who was shaking his head slowly, a sign for me to stand down only a little. I drew in a breath to let myself calm. "Listen. I don't know who you are, or who who you think you are, but you have no right to interrupt and crash our evening simply because of your chauvinistic beliefs. So, I will say this once, and I will do so in a civilized manner."

I lifted my hoof, shoving it against the unicorn's vest, though not of sufficient force for him to be physically moved. "You are going to back up, turn those groomed flanks of yours a full one-eighty, and you are going to walk away without another word, and you will not stick your nose into other ponies' business from now on. Is that clear?"

A silence fell upon the restaurant after that. The unicorn and I were engaged in a staring contest of sorts, until he threw his head to the side and barked out annoyingly loud. "Security!"

Within just a few seconds time, a pair of royal guards galloped from around the corner of the building and on either side of me. I glanced at either of the white-coated, gold armor-donning unicorns, then at the third stallion in front of me. "What, did I hurt your fragile Canterlot-noble feelings?" I said in a mocking tone.

"You assaulted me with that... filthy little hoof of yours!" he retaliated, a look of pure disgust on his face as he hastily dusted off his vest and took a step backwards. "I will see to it that you are locked away for your putrid ways, and physically attacking me in front of my peers!"

Even the guards rolled their eyes at that. I wanted to lurch forward and knock this pony straight into the cobble and beat him until he bled from every orifice. Ray noticed immediately by the change of posture I took, leaping up behind. "Don't." He looked at me, wrapping his hoof around my arm. "It's not worth the trouble."

I glanced over my shoulder, softening my glare. He shook his head a second time. I responded with a single tip of my chin in acknowledgement and turned back to the fancy unicorn. "And just who are you supposed to be?"

"I am the bloody manager! I run this damned bistro!" the stallion wailed as he stomped his forehoof like a bratty colt.

My head recoiled slightly, then cocked to the left. "Is that so?" He turned his nose up, firmly nodding. With that, I turned to Ray. "Come on. We'll take our business elsewhere if this is how you treat your patrons."

The manager waved his hoof scornfully. "Goodbye! Never come back!"

"Thank you, we won't!" I responded with a discernibly plastic enthusiasm, bumping my shoulder into him intentionally to push past the guards and leading Ray out into the square. Away from the bistro, my ears pinned back completely, and a flame of fury blazed away, chewing at my aura.

As soon as we reached a suitable spot, I dropped straight onto a bench and ran a hoof through my mane. The gold pegasus accompanying me noted the stress mounting on my countenance and plopped himself down in front of the bench to rub my shoulder, an innocent attempt on his part to get me to relax somehow.

"Don't let it get to you. That pony is just another opinionated asshole. He won't ruin our night."

"He ruined it for me," I replied, swallowing heavily and staring at my hooves. I was ready to spill it all. "All I hoped for was a nice, relaxing evening with you. That is all I have longed for for weeks, because, you know what? I like you. I like you a lot."

Ray drew his head back, swiveling his ears as his cheeks persistently showed signs of heat. After a moment of quiet, likely to collect his thoughts, he responded with, "I'm flattered."

But I wasn't done yet."I think about you almost non-stop. I think about you at night when I lay in bed. Hell, I... I catch glimpses of you in my dreams sometimes, whenever I have a good dream."

I turned over my right shoulder to look him directly in the eye now. He was still flustered, and even under the dark of night I could make that out. "Look, we met back in January, and we have seen each other roughly five or six times physically, and talked another three or four. There's a lot we still don't know about each other, and like, I can't help these feelings."

After a deep breath, closing my eyes and pausing to question whether or not to advance, I did just that.

"Ray, I..." my teeth bit into my bottom lip. "I want to earn this. I want... to earn... how I feel."

The gold pegasus blinked, puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know anymore... I-I guess I'm still confused about a lot of things. I don't know. Do you think we are jumping the gun a little?"

He gave a small look of bewilderment, disagreeing with a simple shake of his head. "Do you?"

I looked steadily at my hooves with my maw parted, then briefly chuckled, mainly at my own foolishness. "I can't say I would know. I know nothing about relationships, about love, or frankly anything about... this..."

"What? Dating another stallion?" Ray curled his lips into a gentle smile as I lay my head on the bench between my forehooves. "Star, there is virtually no difference between a stallion and a mare, and two stallions, other than how it is viewed by some. And that's okay. Nopony naturally knows anything about love or relationships, do you know why?"

"Why?" my half-lidded eyes shifted over.

"Because it takes a couple to figure that out on their own, and sometimes it takes more than one partner to realize what it is you want. Nopony finds their soulmate first try." He stopped, smile flickering with a tad of hurt. "This is advice for the future, in case you find somepony better, or you just want to be friends. Which I am cool with all the way around."

I lifted my head, opening my mouth to speak, though the words never mustered. Hearing the faintly pained edge of his tone, along with the brief falter of his appearance, any proper response might not have been the best for the situation. Rather, I chose to keep quiet and nod comprehensively.

With that, Ray gave a little nuzzle of my cheek, somewhat returning a poor excuse of a smile, the best effort I could assemble in my current mood. He rose, offering a hoof. "How about we go see what's at the theater, get your mind off of it?" he winked.

It warmed my heart a little to hear him reuse my earlier words. Without a moment of hesitation, I took his presented limb and pressed myself upright, hopping down from the bench. Exchanging glances with one another, Ray and I started off to find the Canterlot Screens. There, after insisting along the short journey, he paid for our tickets, though I sneakily bought our snacks and beverages, much to his disapproval. It didn't matter after we sat down in the theater. So much for a healthy dinner under a starry sky, not that either of us truly cared.

Toward the middle of the movie, I felt my heart rate pick up. My breaths were shallow and my hooves felt numb. Ray glanced over to check on how I was handling and noticed my respiratory patterns, and in turn placed his hoof with mine. I glanced to the right slowly, chest still gently heaving, and I was met with one of the most soothing smiles, possibly the most had I not included my mother during my colthood. I felt a sense of security, and relief. I calmed down at the touch of his hoof.

As presumptuous as it might have been in that instance, my mind was far set. This was the pony I have lacked in my life for so long.

***

Pained wails echoed throughout the soundproofed room. Pieces of armor shed like scales lay splayed out across the floor, removed one by one from the magnetic fiber suit. Intended to absorb the effects of an impact big or small, the suit's sensors were tampered by the central computer to instead enhance the damage done by shock batons wielded by a pair of sentries ordered to beat the captured Marine into submission.

An electric charge through the wiring that penetrated his mind via his temples numbed the stallion's nerves to paralyze him where he stood. After so many hits, he fell, and would make feeble attempts to regain his hoofing, only to be struck once more by energized sticks that left burn marks on his neck and cheeks, and electrocuted him with non-fatal levels of static discharge.

Even two months later, and dwindling on adequate sleep in order to ensure he does not fall to the hooves of GenTech, Arc Nobis had a breaking point. It was coming fast. His training provided every instinct of ensuring the enemy does not break him, although it had not been taken into account for eight weeks of captivity. Nonetheless, with what little resistance he had left in him, delaying the inevitable would allot a sufficient window for the impairment of Armet Mace's plans. At least, he hoped so.

"That's enough," came an ordering voice over speakers in the room. At that, the two guards disengaged their batons and stepped back. "It has been, what, fifty-nine days, and you still haven't let us upload you to the mainframe? Come on now."

Grunting, the grey earth pony, trembling with discernible weakness, rose to his hooves as the shock administered into his nervous system ceased. "I-I... won't let you," he replied, a notable pant to his voice. He himself knew desperation had long taken over, and could not be sure of how much longer he could put up for.

"How brazen of you, Second Lieutenant. It's a good thing, actually. You want to know why?"

"Do I h-have a choice?" Arc retorted.

"Mmm, no, of course not. So, why don't you take a seat?"

Arc glanced over his shoulder, looking at a strangely centered chair that sat a few feet behind. Upon brief inspection, he mentally noted the wiring that spanned up the rear of the chair, down the outside of the single leg and through the floor. Above it sat a panel that, while no different in appearance from the others that consisted of the ceiling and walls, was more than certainly one with function. Even in his weakened state he could tell what it was that Armet wanted.

"I think I will pass," the stallion huffed out, only to take a blow in the back of the head with a shock baton, one that sent him straight to the floor.

"Then perhaps I could interest you in some... pictures?"

The lights on the ceiling dimmed, and instantly after, a digital screen on the far front of the room lit up, casting a bluish glow across Arc and the two sentries. As he opened his eyes, lifting his head, the blood in his veins ran cold. His heart completely stopped in that instance as the display transitioned from the GenTech logo to a familiar image.

"Tell me, Nobis, what significance does this have to you?"

"No..." Arc mumbled, eyes wide as saucer pans.

"No?" The picture transitioned to another. "What about this one?"

This time, Arc was ultimately speechless. Again, the screen switched to show yet another familiar picture.

"Where did you get these?"

"From your hidden file, of course. Had to do some decrypting to unlock it, but nothing is too difficult for my assistant. What do you think?"

"Go. To. Hell!"

Just then, the door beneath the screen slid open. A unicorn silhouetted by the light behind sauntered into the room, becoming more visible the closer he came to Arc. "Perhaps another day." He tapped on his tablet screen, the light illuminating his face changing along with the larger screen behind.

Yet again, the debilitated Marine fell silent, dumbfounded and ultimately in a state of incredulity, unable to remove his eyes from the far wall. The maroon unicorn strolled up to his right and dipped his head, level to Arc's, saying in a near-whisper, "I want you to remember everything for the last time."

Without the instinct to fight back, the two sentries dragged Arc Nobis to the chair and strapped his hooves to it on Armet's word. The very panel from above to arouse his suspicion opened, and down lowered an arm that conformed to the helmet on his head. This snapped him out of his trance, albeit too late.

He arched his back as pain surged through his mind, grunting and clenching his teeth, but utterly powerless to prevent every last piece of his mind from flowing up that electronic pipe, replaced by a whole new set of mind.

The arm retracted into the ceiling after only a minute, and the clamps on his hooves released, allowing him to fall out of the chair. His chest heaved, lungs short of breath. Mere feet before him, the finely-dressed maroon unicorn and his two guards observed. The prior grew a sinister smirk on his muzzle, speaking only two words.

"Report, soldier."

Arc's purple gaze lifted gradually, practically glowing in the dark of the room and essentially illuminating the maroon unicorn stood before him as he straightened his stance to attention.

"Ready to comply, Commander Mace."

44. Into the Eye of the Storm - Part II

With the Gibbous and its commanding officer taking lead of the mission, both it and the Aphelion steamed east at maximum sustainable speed of thirty-two knots and steadily closing the gap between them and their target. For those on board, apart from a selected few previously informed of the task at hoof, everything ran like clockwork as if it were a regular deployment with the mindset of a training exercise.

The two ships initiated radio silence as part of underway protocol, limited to occasional communication between one another for minor course corrections and nothing else. No information from Central Command came through any frequencies, thus giving the false impression that nothing urgent required their immediate attention, leaving either vessel utterly oblivious to the disaster presently transpiring back home.

In the meantime for the duration of the jaunt to the unbeknownst destination of the fault along the sea floor, Silver Edge and Anchorage went about their routine. Both sailors and best friends stood by for further instructions when the time eventually calls for it.

Silver, in severe lack of something to keep him preoccupied, quietly strolled alongside Anchorage while his friend bounced between compartments on the ship, checking every working piece of equipment to make sure each component, minor or crucial to the ship's functionality, performed as it should. For once, it seemed little required his attention and expertise in the repair field.

As he casually tagged along, the beige unicorn made it his mission to locate a family member on board. At long last, it was his chance to meet half of the reason for enlisting. He could not afford to miss it after all he has learned of his uncle, from shared memories of him and his father's foalhood to knowledge of his almost two-decade service to the Navy.

The Gibbous—when compared to its big sister, the Eclipse—housed two hundred and some change rather than three thousand. Much less amenities occupied the significantly smaller space aboard the guided missile destroyer to keep sailors productive, though orders never changed, and work activities resumed as usual at the cost of much of the crew's morale until they return to port in a week's time.

"Hey, so, you never quite told me. What's your uncle's name?" asked Anchorage, glancing over his shoulder to his friend. "You know, in case he and I cross paths while you aren't with me."

"Striker. Uh... Gray Striker," answered Silver. "Not sure why 'Gray'. Most of the ponies in my family's history tend to be named after appearance, so maybe that's why? I don't know. I've never seen him, not even a portrait. For some reason Dad never had one of him."

Anchorage nodded, facing forward. "I do recall you telling me you got your name from the silver streak in your mane. Where does the 'Striker' come from?"

"Because he packs a punch," said Silver, flatly, bringing a slightly amused grin to the pegasus' muzzle, unapparent from behind. "Dad told me he and Gray fought a lot as foals, but not the way you would expect. You know, harmless wrestling, sometimes they would kick each other. In Uncle's case, he liked to punch and give accidental black eyes. Always would get in trouble for it, but Dad would defend him 'cause he knew they were just playing."

A short laugh came from Anchorage at that. "So they were close?"

"Presumably." Silver shrugged his shoulders. "It left Dad depressed as all hell when Gray left for boot camp when he turned twenty-one. According to him, they were inseparable."

"Twenty-one. Damn. So your uncle is in his forties then?"

"Well, almost twenty years now of continued service, I would assume so. Think there would be a problem if he's nowhere close, younger or older," joked Silver, bringing a chuckle out of the both of them.

After no more than a few minutes spent traversing passageways and up a flight of stairs to another level, the two arrived at the helicopter bay consisting of roughly a fourth of the ship's aft and stern, sitting between crew quarters, the bridge, and the landing pad just outside. The space's lighting consisted of primarily waterproof bulbs surrounded in metal cages, maintaining a well-lit atmosphere in the hangar designed to store only one rotary aircraft.

At the time, one MH-60 Seahawk helicopter finished with a brushed steel grey and Lunar Republic blue along the tail section sat undergoing maintenance by a small pack of aviation mechanics. Only one division stationed aboard the Gibbous, with each destroyer able to land helicopters in the Lunar Fleet having one of their own as well.

The Eclipse, presently being the only carrier of its type in the Lunar Navy—and likely to be rendered obsolete by future supercarriers of a new class looming on the planning board with a boost of military funding over recent years—houses five large divisions of mechanics consisting of ten to twelve ponies each to maintain a total of twenty aircraft; the minimum for times of peace, whereas times of conflict or even declared war grants anywhere between thirty and sixty, the maximum number of jet fighters and helicopters able to be stored aboard the carrier.

As soon as he stepped hoof inside the hangar bay, Anchorage halted in his tracks, ears perking up as his eyes fell upon a pair of sailors toward the closed rear doors. "Huh. Speak of the devil."

Silver entered behind the pegasus and came up on his side. "What is it?" When he looked forward, he understood what Anchorage meant. For a time, a silence fell upon the two as they scrutinized. Then came doubt. "Wait... how do you know it's him?" queried Silver, puzzled by his friend's certainty.

"Hard not to notice the resemblance," Anchorage remarked with a slight smirk on his muzzle, gesturing his hoof to key similarities between his friend and fellow shipmate, and the somewhat intimidating tan-coated, grey and black short-maned figure stood across the room.

Upon closer examination, he knew now the pegasus was spot-on. The jet-black along the edges of his stone-colored hair matched the dark of his grandmother's mane before age had its way and permanently cursed her with frizzled grey. His blue, borderline-purple eyes bore similarities to his father's sangria irides, and so did his physical build; tall, stocky with the horn length of a prince. It was him, it simply had to be.

Silver stared in utter silence, now absolutely dumbfounded and unsure of his next move. He turned to his buddy, who motioned a hoof, signalling that he greet the sibling of his only parent. Drawing in a deep breath, exhaling to ease his tense muscles, the beige unicorn started toward the chief in a conversation with a stallion of similar rank to his pegasus companion.

Raising his volume just adequately to attract the unicorn's attention, he called, "Uncle?" a bright ear-to-ear smile in the process of widening across his muzzle when the stallion's indigo-rich sights slowly set upon him, only temporarily glancing away to shoo off the petty officer he was talking to. Silver trotted up to the similarly-coated relative, preparing to meet him with a cordial embrace for the first time.

However, the move to hug his uncle was ultimately prevented when the young Marine-turned-sailor instead met with a sky-blue magical forcefield standing between the two unicorns with the eldest of them behind its abrupt appearance.

"Fraternization isn't allowed. Not on this ship, not on any ship, not on base," said the chief, monotone with neutrality on his countenance. He dispersed the shield only when Silver backed off of it and maintained enough distance to be out of his personal space.

"Right, er, so-sorry..." Silver hastily apologized, stiffening his posture. His eyes then widened in realization. "...Chief." At least he recognizes me. Sort of. Went Silver in his head, ultimately disappointed by this first impression. He started to question whether or not now was the prime moment to meet him. If experience told him anything, it was that sailors, and sometimes officers on deployment act much the opposite of who they are in port or at home. Perhaps this was the case for his uncle, too.

Keeping a gap while within range of the two, Anchorage rolled his eyes and let off a low, quiet groan only audible to himself. He felt the embarrassment for his fellow shipmate, but didn't himself know then how to mend the situation. When a silence persisted between the two, leading to the bewilderment of the chief petty officer in question, it was his cue to step in.

"Chief Striker, it is a pleasure," chimed Anchorage, approaching the gold device-wearing uniformed stallion nonchalantly.

The sand-coated unicorn tilted his head in bewilderment after his attention shifted to the pegasus sailor. "The pleasure is mine, Petty Officer, but what for?"

At that, Anchorage's lips pursed into a frown. A very indiscernible one. "To stand among an officer whom is the uncle of my best friend, Chief."

Puzzled, Gray Striker transitioned between either petty officer before him. After only a split second studying the beige-coated unicorn some three feet forward, little denial remained. "You're Graphite's kid?"

Blinking twice, Silver gave a single, firm nod following a second of quiet. "Yes, Chief."

In that instance, the taller, higher-ranking stallion narrowed his indigo cores solely on the beige pony claiming to be his nephew. "Never thought he'd let somepony else join up after I did," he rejoined with an edge to his tone.

"He spoke highly of you growing up. You never visited, so I figured I would make plans to meet you one day. Apart from him, sir, you are the only blood family I have left."

This slightly took Striker aback, leaving him speechless for a good minute at the very least. His expression did change, yet his demeanor remained set in stone. "You threw your life away to see me?"

The manner in which his words came together met Silver with disdain, stabbing at him in a way that even Anchorage felt just by merely standing in their presence.

"Yes, I did," retorted Silver, gently furrowing his eyebrow.

Striker's head cocked left a little. "And you spent how long making sure you get on my ship just for this?"

"No time, actually. You see, I am stationed aboard the Eclipse. Petty Officer Anchorage here is, too. There was a temporary change of command while the Eclipse is out of commission." Silver's head dipped slightly, ears faltering back. "Chief, I joined for more than the privilege of meeting you for the first time in twenty-two years. This was simply one of my goals along the way."

To Striker, Silver's explanation seemed nothing more than a sob story. Despite hearing compelling reason and a very slight sense of respect different than the kind garnered from other sailors, it ultimately held no significance to him.

As the chief parted his maw to speak in return, red lights swirled along the walls, and a wailing alarm sounded throughout the hangar. Everypony immediately stopped what they were doing, looking around them in utter perplexity.

It took a moment for the noise's meaning to strike him, and when it did, Anchorage's eyes shot wide open. "That's the firing alarm! What the hell are we shooting at?"

Before any response was given, both Silver and Striker sprinted out of the helicopter bay through the hatch they entered through. Almost immediately after, a grave announcement rang out across the 1MC that reverberated on the open space's walls.

"General Quarters! General Quarters! Security alert! Unauthorized launch sequence initiated! All hooves, man your battle stations! This is not a drill!"

Anchorage took off toward CIC, moving with giant strides in every step and with the aid of his wings propelling him down the corridor like a blur of dark blue and white. When he entered the operations room, the entire place was in discord.

Most of the sailors working in CIC weren't sure what was happening. All they knew was that their weapons were hot when neither of them authorized it. One fire controlpony in particular expressed his individual concerns audibly in hopes of bringing someone to him for assistance. "My guidance systems have been compromised, I can't control them!"

"What did you do?!" furiously shouted a master chief, pushing gently past Anchorage to the panicking sailor.

"No-nothing! They started counting down on their own, I'm locked out!" the petty officer said, affirming his innocence and frantically pressing buttons across his station in attempt to prevent a missile launch.

Seeing now the genuine nature of the earth pony's confusion, the master chief softened his tone toward him while maintaining a stern attitude at the situation. "Who did it, and what is it targeting?"

"I-I don't know! Hang on..." The sailor typed away as fast as his hooves would allow, desperate to figure something out. Miraculously, discovering what they were inadvertently about to shoot at was the one thing his previously secure access had not been blocked to.

A dark green window displaying various pieces of information popped up, the writing alternating between red and yellow in a signal of alarm. "Heavy aircraft over the coast of Equestria, one nautical mile north of Manehattan, flight level three-two-zero. Appears to be an Egret C-17."

Anchorage's heart sunk deep, and his blood ran cold as the ice back in his home town. Just then, a final warning popped up on the screen. The tension struck rock bottom at the sailor’s last announcement.

“It’s firing!”

***

"Wait, wait, wait, we're doing what now?" I repeated, in desperate need of clarification. In my head, I prayed repeatedly that my ears were deceiving me, though it was quickly becoming apparent that they weren't.

Snow finished tightening the last strap on his harness, yanking up a parachute bag to fasten it over his shoulders while ensuring his wings wouldn't be affected. "You heard me. Plane can't land safely in Manehattan, the runways were too severely damaged by the quake."

"So where the hell are we headed?!" I shrieked, then questioning whether or not that was actually my voice that spoke afterward.

"Oh, we are still going to Manehattan," said the lieutenant, gesturing between the group gathered near the closed ramp. "But we won't be needing the jet any more."

Now it made sense why we had returned to cruising altitude. High altitude, low opening. That's what HALO stood for, and I despised him even more for him to merely bring it to mind, let alone order.

"I've never done this shit before, Lieutenant, I wasn't trained to jump from a damn plane!"

"You're a pegasus, you should be just fine," he said dismissively, walking over to a set of all-black, full-faced helmets and tossing one to me. With a soft click barely audible above the muffled whine of the engines, he donned the headpiece to ultimately complete his stealthy look. Just the piece itself changed his appearance as a whole, leaving only his wings and tail unprotected and exposed. Were they, and I would not have recognized him until he spoke.

My gaze darted up and down between the helmet and him as my heart started to race. "That—that doesn't mean anything, Snow!" I let off a sigh of fear-induced frustration. "Damn it, you're dead serious about this, aren't you?!"

"Get your damn gear on and quit your bitching, will you?" he snapped, voice masked under the helmet that conformed to his muzzle and snapped snugly and securely down to his neck. This time, he did sound furious. "What is with you? What has you so against parachuting? What do you have to worry about?"

"I'm afraid of heights, damn it!" I bellowed, ultimately halting everypony in the bay. I didn't care at that moment and focused solely on the lieutenant before me. "I can't fly. I never learned how to. Simple tasks such as riding an elevator up a damn hotel make me paranoid as it is, and this certainly doesn't help!"

Snow blinked, his eyes shaded by the tinted visor that wrapped in one piece from temple to temple. He cocked his head in confusion. "You... never learned how to fly? Not even in basic?"

"Hell no!" I stomped my hoof loudly on the metal floor. "I chickened out of that shit, and they let me get away with it!"

Apart from the constant roar of the engines permeating the air since the start of the flight, silence filled the hold as all eyes turned to me. The lieutenant looked utterly taken aback. One moment, he looked ready to toss me out of the plane himself. The next, compassion filled him.

Removing his headpiece, the pegasus walked up. My anger quelled, only to be replaced by pure anxiousness.

"Deep breaths, Star," assured Snow, rubbing his hoof on my shoulder gently. "Listen, don't worry much about it. I'm not going without a reserve chute, either. Get too scared, pull the chord. Your chute is guaranteed to open. Worst case, you have one of us to catch you on the way down."

"Th-there has to be another way," I sputtered, barely able to muster the words through deep breaths and essentially on the brink of hyperventilating.

Snow shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Hey, what else are you afraid of?"

I then looked up at him, puzzled for a moment by the sudden change of subject. "N-needles?"

"Needles? Aw, come on, needles aren't that bad. Just gotta close your eyes and take a deep breath. Remember the advice I gave you a little while back at the range?" I nodded shakily. "Still applies."

Continuing to stare in silence for a few moments, I then proceeded to draw in deep gulps of air at a time and softly exhale. It helped reduce some of the anxiety, though not by much. Doing so, however, lowered my heart rate to the point of where I could feel it beating again.

"Now, are you with me, Corporal?" he questioned, coming off as more of a statement and eager for my answer. In response, I gave a skeptical half nod with a shrug of my shoulders. "Good enough for me. Get your gear on."

With an affirming nod, I started preparing myself for the jump. The process took no more than a minute, and it gave the lieutenant a bit of time to quickly brief the squad with our helmets on and sealed.

"Listen up, Marines. We'll be dropping into Manehattan Park just west of Bridleway. There will not be anypony waiting for us down there, so there will be no red smoke, no flares to guide the way. If all else fails, drop along the lake shore. That will be our rendezvous point.

"Watch out for buildings on your way down should you take the scenic route, and I trust none of you will. There will be plenty of smoke to obscure your line of sight, so don't fuck it up. Once we're all down, we work our way to the contacts in the city for an update on intel. Oorah?"

"Oor—"

Just then, an enormous explosion threw the plane into a ninety-degree bank, forcing myself and the lieutenant against the opposite wall as a result. The loading ramp sheered off entirely, as did a good portion of the left rear side of the aircraft and part of the floor, too. Light from the distant sunset poured into the cargo bay, and half of the Marines stood around waiting to drop out vanished in the blink of an eye as the decompression sucked them all out of the severely-damaged aircraft.

Through the comms piece, a harmony of alarms rang out in the cockpit as the pilots struggled to maintain stability. After latching on to a net along the other side of the plane still mostly intact, I looked behind me and through the gaping hole, only to watch the outer port engine disintegrate and take along with it a large chunk of the wing in a ball of fire and smoke falling at an angle to earth.

In that instance, I felt as if the whole world had started to roll over, caused by a massive loss of lift on one side of the aircraft and forcing it into a downward spiral toward earth. The rapid motions and g-forces threatened to pull me out along with the others, and the sky quickly alternated between being above and below us.

"We've been hit!" shouted the first officer through his headset, unaware of the situation's full extent. "Jump, jump, jump!"

Without a moment spent hesitating or gathering the courage necessary to do so, I let go. No more than a second passed when I found myself outside of the plane, my total momentum seemingly ceasing to exist and thrusting me into a fall straight down. Even with the helmet and its built-in rebreather, all breath in my lungs sucked itself completely out purely from shock and overall unawareness of the true scope of the situation.

I threw my wings wide open to straighten myself to where the ground sat some five miles below me and rapidly approached, looking up to watch an orange and grey blur race downward. Fiery debris rained like a meteor shower in chunks or little pieces as what was once a cargo transport plane nosedived to its demise, likely with both pilots still on board. The whole port side wing was obliterated and falling in tandem to the fuselage, and the overall shifting of gravity and weight began to tear what remained of the one hundred and forty-ton jet apart, trailed by columns of thick, black smoke curving directly down from the source of the missile's collision.

My focus then transitioned elsewhere. No longer did I put the plane's condition to mind, but the fact that I was now in a total free fall without a clue of what to do next. Skydivers both military and for leisure equipped watches with altimeters to track their descent, but without one of my own, all I had were my wits to tell me how high up I was and my speed. It would not be long before I reach terminal velocity, if I had not already.

There was still plenty of altitude between me and the ground, much to my relief, though I imagine it wouldn't be longer than a couple of minutes before I start seeing office rooftops and perhaps have one be the last thing to go through my head. In fact, this high up, even the clouds themselves seemed small. Through the crevices of cloud cover, the darkened, crumbling city peeked through under an extra layer of smog combined by fires scattered across the region.

Looking up again, my eyes met the evening horizon, protected from blinding light by the shaded visor that adjusted to the shift of brightness. Beautiful yellows and oranges surrounded the setting sun for miles with upper-level cirrus clouds like fresh paint straight off of an artist's brush stretched beyond the land's outline, swirling like a vortex around the flaming cosmic ball of plasma. This, in itself, was a sight for sore eyes. One I would likely never catch from this perspective ever again.

Mesmerized by the view, it temporarily coursed my thoughts elsewhere and numbed my senses. The wind between my wings, gusting relentlessly against my underside with my hooves splayed out. Despite its endless roar, the noise silenced in my ears as I gazed upon the sunset in its unchanging nature, even as I rapidly plunged to the earth like a round fired from a gun. It gave me a new outlook on life as I knew it. And now, I finally understood what it was like to fly.

"Is everypony clear of the plane?!" rang the lieutenant's voice in my helmet's earpiece, ultimately shattering my trance and shoving me back to some sense of reality. One by one, each voice of the Marines back on the plane returned, leaving only the pilots' fates undetermined still. "Shooter! Where are you?!"

"I'm—I'm clear! I-I'm okay!" I affirmed, having to shout in order to hear myself speak over the tornado in my ears, despite the helmet's full protection. "I don't see you guys, I think I am above you!"

"We are descending through nine thousand feet, eighty-six knots!" responded Javelin Charm. "Breaking lower mid-level clouds now!"

Because myself and the clouds mentioned still had plenty of distance between each other, that positioned me roughly some two thousand feet above the others. Frankly, that thought in my head was far from comforting, knowing nopony could guide me down visually. This was all up to me at this point, with perhaps some help from Snow to figure out just when to open my chute.

From where we initially jumped—or were forced to—the fall seemed everlasting. Within the next minute, however, is when proximity to the ground would enter the threshold of danger. Past the thin layer of clouds, the city and the scope of the destruction became fully visible for miles. One shift of my gaze upward and to the left honed me in on the target: Manehattan Park.

As I watched the ground approach, a new fear slowly took hold; if I pull my parachute too late, I might not slow fast enough and break something upon landing, or worse if traveling with enough velocity. From where I was, pulling now would allow me to glide safely to the drop site, albeit gradually and likely leaving me the last pony to touch down and waste precious time. However, angst would be the determining factor, and I swiftly reached for the lollipop.

The instance my hoof yanked the string, the bag secured across my back opened. A tug lurched my whole body upward as my downward speed was halted by the chute instantly catching the air, only to be followed two seconds later by a rip I wished to never hear. In that instance, gravity once more took hold and shoved against my center mass as I sped up to terminal velocity yet again.

There was no use in checking, having immediately acknowledged what had happened. "My chute tore!" I shouted through the speaker in a panicked tone, striving my best not to flail around while I focused on the rapidly approaching buildings beneath.

"Use your wings!" was Snow's dire response, sounding horrified himself for my safety. "Remember, you're a pegasus, just like me! You are built to fly!"

Manehattan was dangerously close now. No more than thirty, maybe forty seconds until splat, and no reserve chute. No more options. My wings were my only hope now.

Tightly shutting my eyes, I folded my forehooves to my sides and let my form tilt downward, spreading my wings as far as the joints extended and the tips reached. Every feather tingled as they exposed to the elements and the wind brushed between them. Over the course of a few moments, my whole body grew increasingly aerodynamic the more speed I collected.

My dive steadily transformed to a glide as the air rapidly rushing under my wings began generating enough lift to remain airborne just a little bit longer. The change in motion and the forces of gravity against my body allowed some courage to open my eyes when the realization came that I wasn't dead yet.

Rather than falling straight down as I was mere seconds prior, I now soared above the streets in a stable flight with plenty of speed to keep me going, stretching my forehooves out ahead of me to enhance my aerodynamics. Looking down, I watched ponies, carriages, and piles of debris lining the seemingly endless blocks zip past. As harrowing as it was, it ultimately brought a bright, joyous grin to my mouth. I was flying.

However, the spurt of happiness ended prematurely as my sights lifted to settle upon a massive high rise office tower toppled over against another of similar height on the opposite side of the street. The leaning structure cracked wide open and bent at the center, threatening to give way and drop two separate sections consisting of tons of steel and concrete onto innocents hurrying under it before it could, and most of its windows were completely shattered. It was coming fast, right at me.

There wasn't nearly enough time to climb over it, nor could I dip below the building between it and the ground without likely crash landing further down. My reaction time simply wouldn't be split-second enough, and thus my only choice was to fly straight through it and hope for the best.

Folding my wings back to where I could maintain flight, I aimed toward one of the broken window frames and into the darkness. Like a bullet, my form darted through the building toward the other side. At any given second, I expected to clip something, such as a bookcase or an interior pillar that would either kill instantly or toss me elsewhere to a later death; yet somehow, my eyes remained open.

With sufficient speed and trajectory in my favor, face first I crashed straight through a weakened glass pane and out of the unstable structure. The sudden impact startled me, though thankfully not enough to lose balance and spiral to the ground. Once clear of the tower, my wings spread to full length to slow my descent as I lowered to a large intersection some two blocks east of the Bridleway crossroads.

I preemptively lowered all four hooves to catch myself upon landing, and when they first dug into the safety of the fractured cobble, my remaining speed and momentum sent me tumbling forward. Grunting heavily, I turned sideways, rolling twice before upright. Panting, my adrenaline spiked. I gasped for air to soothe my fear-emptied lungs, supplied by the mask's breathing apparatus that prevented me from passing out on the spot.

My first instinct was to pat myself down for any injury. Doing so swiftly resulted in discovering that, apart from overly tense muscles and a speeding, likely unhealthy heart rate, nothing of mine was broken; a solid reminder of the quote that any landing you can walk away from is a good landing.

Sitting up, taking the helmet on both sides, a small click allowed it to lift up and off my head. A soft groan emanated from my muzzle as the piece no longer squeezed my skull, hooking it on a clip on the back of my vest without having to carry it along. I panted softly and rubbed my temple in circular motions, letting off a low grunt as the pain eased off incrementally. Glancing up from the ground let me at last take notice of all of the ponies standing or walking past with their sights set on me, frightened and shaken, yet also startled by the fact that I had just randomly dropped in near them from above.

No words were spoken, not even as I examined my new surroundings. What could I say in that moment? The metropolis I worked in, even resided in for most of my time was rendered unrecognizable. Old structures once proudly lining these busy streets, some of which now lay in piles of rubble, pancaked against the ground with who knows how many still trapped inside.

A quake of that magnitude, even though its official rating on the scale among other information wasn't presently at my discretion, it surprised me more of Manehattan wasn't leveled. The infrastructure around here simply did not possess the construction necessary to withstand intense shaking for prolonged periods of time, even if architects of newer additions to the city considered the risk for a seismically inactive region. Frankly, no one would have seen it coming.

As it sat clipped over my shoulder, Snow's voice rang out through my helmet's headset loud enough for me to hear, even when not wearing it. "Star, where the hell did you go?! You missed the rendezvous point!"

Once more, I found myself at a total loss for words. I didn't know how to respond. A pained ache left in my chest caused by the sight unfolding before my very eyes made my hoof clench over my heart. I rarely muster the emotions to so much as shed a tear, but this was more than enough. Water lined my cores, collecting along my lower lids, and a lump in my throat made it difficult to swallow. All this pain, all of this suffering in the eyes of hundreds as they strolled on by seeking comfort and security, every inch of it fueled the fire; the burning passion to fight back, to go after the true culprit.

"Stand b—." static interference started cutting through the stallion's authoritative, stern voice, rendering it incoherent. "We're com—to g—you—."

Rising to all fours, I looked around one last time. Despite having some idea of what Snow's orders were, it ultimately left me unsure of what to do. Ponies were moving east in orderly fashion in what I could only assume was an evacuation of the island. The lieutenant's plans were beyond me, and making my way to them might only further split us apart. With that, I started walking with the crowds toward lower Manehattan.

***

"Disengage all weapons systems! Make sure your computers are completely shut down! Nothing stays on but radar and sonar! Is that clear?!" ordered Fair Winds as he stormed into CIC, gazing over a collection of sailors at their consoles.

At his command, each pony hastily began turning off their work stations apart from a select few not manning a remote-controlled weapon. Doing so slightly darkened the room, though the red and blue ceiling lights kept a navigable environment.

"If our ship's systems are at the mercy of whoever breached us, it is far too risky to attack. We are in the dark right now," he added.

"Attack? Attack who, Captain?" questioned one of the petty officers, raising valid concern among those present and unaware of the true nature of their mission.

At that, with his gaze softly set upon the worried sailor, the ship's commanding officer fell silent. All eyes turned to the captain, anticipant of his response. Those in command had been holding out on the crew since their departure at 0400; plus, not even they were aware of the extent of the damage back home. No distress calls, no emergency beacons, not a single transmission from Central Command. Now they realize the bug in their systems may have unknowingly contributed to that. By this point, it was the crew's right to know.

Exchanging glances between the master chief in front of him, followed by the executive officer on his right, Fair Winds made up his mind. He drew in a breath, then began to speak aloud.

"Gibbous, as of yesterday evening, we were tasked by the Admiral of the Lunar Fleet to a mission that involves firing upon an area of trench between two tectonic plates. We had been informed in an emergency meeting that somepony we once thought to be on our side has been secretly planning an assault against our fair nation. Generation Technologies, or as most of us have come to call it GenTech, is not what we thought it was. We are unsure of their intentions, although the intel brought to our immediate attention was sound enough to bring us where we now idly sit; atop the mid-Antlertic Ridge.

"I know that I have been withholding information vital to the task at hoof, and I recognize that it has stirred up concerns and even spreading rumors on board regarding recent past events that have left much of Equestria on edge. Rest assured, the incident at the United World of Countries has absolutely nothing to do with why we are out here this evening. As such, I feel obligated to formally apologize to each and every one of you. It was wrong of me to think keeping certain information out of your minds would keep everypony well focused on the mission ahead.

"As of this moment, it is no longer a secret. Orders were to seek and destroy a pulse device designed and constructed by GenTech on the ocean floor before it can cause damage to the homeland, and as horrifying as it may sound, we are presently unsure if this machine of unknown capabilities has already activated. There has been no word from home since we left port, and now that we are aware of some scope of the situation, it is all too certain that we are on our own out here."

Leaning back against a table with his hooves on the edges, Fair Winds let off a low sigh. "Without manual access to our weapons systems, there is no way for us to destroy the device. It's safe to assume as well that the Aphelion is in a similar situation to us.

"Each of you serve a distinct purpose here. Some of my crew's biggest brains sit or stand in this room as I speak. I need ideas as to what we can do from here on out. We already know diving to set explosives on the device is out of the question as nopony could reach such impossible depths," Fair Winds grunted, simultaneously questioning just how GenTech was able to before they had the tools to accomplish it. "Sailors, we are rapidly running out of time. Anything will suffice."

Barring the soft purr of the engines below deck, the air in CIC fell utterly silent. Sailors stared at their captain while he spoke, but found it difficult to muster the answers he was looking for. Glances were exchanged between one another, some knowing, others completely clueless. The lack of discussion garnered a paper thin frown on Fair Winds' muzzle, yet supplied enough of an answer for him to work with.

Suddenly, however, the silence was broken by one sailor's announcing voice from his station. "Captain! Sonar is picking up an unidentified vessel, three hundred feet below sea level, course heading two-three-zero at four knots."

The captain curiously furrowed his eyebrow, sauntering over to the radarpony's console. "Not one of our subs, is it?"

"Negative, sir. Completely different signature to our vessels," the sailor turned over his shoulder to him. "Looks to be Ajerstanian."

"What in the fuck are they doing here?" grunted Fair Winds, hunching down to eye level with the monitor. "Haven't they caused us enough headaches at sea?"

"Probably a spy run after the attack at the U.W.C," the master chief remarked, strolling up beside the captain and glancing over the wall screens with him.

"Any attempts at contact?" said Fair Winds to the communications officer further down.

Giving a firm shake of his head, the commo replied, "No, Captain. Not a word."

The master chief on deck tapped the captain's shoulder, who turned his head to look at him. "Captain, what if we convince them of our intent? We can't shoot the device with torpedoes if our systems are unreliable, but I imagine whoever's behind the hack doesn't know about the sub. They could potentially help us destroy it!"

The captain stood there in contemplation, checking some of the other sailors with brief glances for second opinions. Some nods were garnered. "It's worth a shot," said Fair Winds, turning back to the bulky earth stallion. "Commo, see if you can patch in our frequency with theirs. I would like to speak to them directly, the old fashioned way."

"Aye, Skipper." Without hesitation, the communications officer went to work, twisting knobs and pressing buttons, hoping to patch in to a frequency that the hidden vessel could pick up on. The process lasted a few minutes, and in the end, the trial was successful, as suggested by a firm nod of the sailor's head. "Ready when you are, sir."

Fair Winds stood tall, walking to the communications officer's post before a small machine centered under one hoof. "We know you are out there. It might not seem like it right now, but we are in dire need of your help."

As he spoke, commo translated his words to morse code in order to relay the message to the submarine. "Our ships' weapons systems have been compromised by an outside threat and there is something down there putting countless innocent lives at stake that we must destroy. As far as we know, you are the only ones capable of firing upon the ocean floor at this moment. Will you help us?"

There was a long, uneasy silence, only to be hardly broken when commo began scribbling down on a piece of yellow notebook paper while hastily scanning a cheat sheet taped above his station for easy reading. He glanced up to the chief when he finally finished writing. "Affirmative. What do you need?"

Fair Winds waved a hoof for another sailor to come over. "Send them these underwater coordinates," he ordered as the sailor brought a neatly folded paper with the targeting information typewritten on it. "Tell them to fire upon the ocean floor and nothing else."

More time passed, this time without a reply from the sub. Many including the captain anxiously waited, expecting a negative response, which would ultimately leave them at square one. Minutes ticked by like hours as every pony present slowly lost hope.

"I am detecting a launch, sir," came the words that sent both a surge of relief and a wave of new tension washing throughout CIC. "Single torpedo, diving past eight thousand feet toward the trench. Impact in thirty seconds."

"Excellent." The commanding officer gave a single nod, glancing over to the master chief. "Get a hold of boatswain, tell her I'm heading topside."

"Aye, Captain," he nodded, trotting over to a single phone on the wall to call up to the bridge. As he did, Fair Winds started his way out of CIC.

Just then, a bright flash lit up beneath the dark ocean surface, brightening it for one square mile from the source. The two destroyers lurched backwards, kicking up surf at their sterns as a giant explosion sent a jet of water towering five hundred feet straight up, only to rain down in a monsoon of saltwater that drenched the weatherdecks and anypony out on them.

The shockwave and sudden movement of the ship launched Fair Winds and any sailors not quick enough to react and grab onto something into the ceiling, before he slammed into the floor below with a pained grunt. Striking either surface broke nothing in his body, though it did stun him. In that same instance, every electronic on the bridge shut off simultaneously, as well as any light and device anywhere throughout the ship.

***

Nightfall hit the city hard. Without power, for the first time in decades, the once-magnificent, shimmering, bright metropolis of Manehattan as a whole went pitch black. Only battery-powered spotlights and backup generators on the verge of running out of fuel kept a few spotty lights on, and occasional small fires not yet put out. Hell, even some of the first responders were using them to navigate without wasting energy on their flashlights.

All around me I looked as I strolled along with the crowds. Police officers stood at intersections, guiding frightened citizens to designated evacuation routes, which I had come to learn were via ferries once used to shuttle tourists to and from the Statue of Harmony, now utilized for getting ponies off Manehattan Island to Joint Base Manehattan and other boroughs, where relief camps had been set up in the tremor's immediate wake. Some temporary tents were put up on the sides of streets to treat the badly wounded in the area who were unable to be transported in enough time.

Chunks of buildings lay scattered across the streets, along with heavy shards of glass that proved to be a major hazard for those walking. Without being able to see the ground around you, it was too easy to step on something harmful to one's hooves. The cobble roads were cracked, some fissures larger than others and were so deep that, under proper lighting, the water and gas lines sat visibly exposed beneath the surface, or even a subway tunnel.

Enormous blazes had sprung up in multiple high rises and every available firefighter sprayed a continuous high-pressure jet of water as high as they could reach in an attempt to quell the flames. A choking smog had settled upon lower Manehattan caused by a mixture of smoke fumes and dust kicked up in the quake. I glanced up, noting Trotterdam Tower standing in the dark of the post-evening, the enormous golden equine head on top still glimmering pridefully in its own beacon that shot straight upwards in a pillar of white light far beyond its ear spires. The steadily-gathering cloud cover above limited the height the beam would reach, though maintained a luminosity that spanned out along the bottom with a brightness that matched that of a full moon.

Then came a sudden shock. It startled me enough that I dropped into a readied posture and scanned around apprehensively. Other ponies also stopped and fearfully studied their surroundings, and as if the screaming and crying wasn't horrid enough already, it became more apparent that something was coming when the ground began to vibrate, steadily picking up in intensity until a second jolt sent hundreds tumbling like dominoes. Ponies began fleeing in a panic as debris fell from nearby skyscrapers and windows shattered, raining upon tens and leaving them with gaping lacerations or straight up stab-like wounds from glass shards impaling into flesh.

I leaped back up, but had trouble maintaining stance due to the intensity of the shaking. A deep, terrifying groan filled the streets, compelling me to look up and see Trotterdam Tower swaying dangerously. My pupils shrunk to pinpricks and I felt my blood run cold as I helplessly watched enormous cracks work their way up the facade of the century-old skyscraper and climb the face of the horse spire, splitting at the exact midpoint of the structure. As it progressed, the beam of light stretching skywards began to flicker before it burnt out abruptly, no longer illuminating the overcast skies and plunging the crumbling city into further darkness.

Ponies who took notice hauled ass running or flying the other way, pushing and stumbling over one another, trying to escape before the building came crashing down. I was in too much shock to move, observing as Manehattan's pride, a symbol of the city skyline, began to tilt over onto the street four blocks down and vanish completely in a booming explosion of dust and debris that flooded the street like an angry wave of destruction with a force strong enough to send ponies soaring off their hooves and into the air to their likely deaths. In its wake, only the lower half of the building still barely stood.

Instantly my sights shot to my immediate left, where a dirtied and moderately bruised mare held her sobbing foal in a protective motherly hold, knowing fleeing themselves would do them no justice. I lurched over and snatched the mare, who still held a firm grip on her filly, carrying them both as fast as my hooves could take me to an alleyway right as the cloud swept past. As soon as we were safe in the alley, I leaped atop the both of them to act as a meat shield in case the unstable structures on either side of us came crashing down too, so that it would be me, and not them.

The ordeal seemed to carry on forever. In all actuality, it lasted no more than a few minutes. The damage, however, had been dealt. When the dust finally settled, most of the crowd was missing; not due to clearing the area, but the gale-force blast of debris effectively blowing them away. Only one relief tent out of possibly dozens remained standing, held in place by some strong unicorn's magic from a pony hunkering down within to protect vulnerable wounded victims trapped inside.

I remained on top of the mare and her foal for as long as the shaking persisted, caused by both the second quake and likely countless structures damaged by the first finally collapsing. It took some time to realize a few others had shared my idea and also took refuge in the same cut, checking to make sure everypony else was all right when it ended.

But it wasn't all over. The choking smog blanketing the streets that further contributed to the darkness rendered ponies breathless and essentially hacking up a lung. This occurred to me as well when I finally inhaled after seemingly neglecting to breathe from the start of the tremor, and I brought up my sleeved hoof to breathe into. It would do for now, despite having become severely filthy as a result of all of the debris in the air.

The flight helmet designed for high altitudes remained clipped on my back and served as an option as it included a self-regenerating respirator built in to the muzzle. Turning to look behind me, however, I noted of a dozen who needed it far more than I did. To our luck, the cloud itself was gradually diminishing, though for some, it might be too late. A decision had to be made. The helmet wouldn't fit on a unicorn since a hole for their horn wasn't included, but the sole pony of that kind held her own by creating a spell that completely cleared the air around her and one other pony who stood close by.

I looked at the mare and her filly, still grasping one another in fear for their lives. The mother bawled her eyes out as she squeezed her foal close, thankful to still be alive. Glancing up, eyes full of tears, she sniffled out, "Th-thank you, s-sir."

Though it likely was not discernible in the dark, a small smile crossed my muzzle. I gave a gentle nod in return. "Just doing my job," I responded, bringing the helmet to her as she coughed heavily afterwards. "Here, take this. It will help you breathe."

The mare shifted her sights to the helmet, then up at me slowly. At first, she declined by pushing it back to me. However, I wasn't losing this argument, and so I firmly, yet gently placed it in her hoof and started to walk out onto the street to help with survivors.

***

"What the hell just happened?!" Silver looked around, eyes widened fearfully and utterly confused.

"Electromagnetic pulse!" responded Anchorage, flicking on a small flashlight with him and shining it in the passageway. With care in every step, he led Silver hastily to a lower deck and directly into a compartment adjoining the engine room, walls lined with circuit breakers that provided power to the entire ship.

Clenching the end of the flashlight between his teeth, Anchorage twisted a knob and opened the panel. Sparks flew from inside, prompting the pegasus to swiftly shield his face as a couple of the orange particles bounced off his blouse. Upon closer inspection, he came to the conclusion that repairs on the breakers alone would keep him busy for some time. "Fuck!" he cursed through the flashlight still parting his maw.

"What is it?" queried Silver, horn glowing a faint crimson hue that only barely cast a light around him. Despite it, much of his face remained shadowed by the bill of his cover. It sent a slight sense of worry to his soul when the stench of burning rubber filled the corridor.

Anchorage's blood boiled, punching the wall beside the opened panel out of frustration, grunting after removing the flashlight from his teeth and pressing both forehooves on either side of the breaker, "Fuckin' hell, everything's fried!"

"It's not beyond repair, right?"

The pegasus gave a shake of his head, eyes narrowed on the wiring within. "No, nothing is beyond repair. It'll be some time before we have even a little bit of power restored, though."

"You need me to do something, Anchor?" offered Silver, ready to do anything to help out his friend.

Deeply sighing as he flicked some switches in an attempt to restart the generators, Anchorage replied, "Go make use of yourself, I'm sure somepony needs a hoof lent."

The request came off as aggressive at first, though Silver knew better and let it slide in their present predicament. Anchorage was right, he didn't understand a thing of the pegasus' line of work and therefore was no help at that moment. The beige unicorn started down the corridor in a fast canter to search for somepony in need of his immediate aid.

As he did, the pegasus' fellow division member trotted up with a toolbox and set it down. He stood slightly off to the side to give Anchorage some room while also closely examining the breaker and formulating his own solutions.

"What are we looking like?" Gallant questioned, disregarding the horrid smell of a possible electrical fire and mentally waiting for flames to lick out of the paneling at any given moment.

"Conductors and wiring seem to be intact for the most part, just short circuited from the EMP. Maybe we're a bit lucky here for being such close range," Anchorage replied, sifting his hoof around in search of something warm that would indicate further repairs. To his relief, nothing of such was discovered, and there was no apparent fire to be concerned about.

"Gallant, grab me a fuse, will you?" he requested, sticking his hoof carefully inside and shuffling some of the bound wiring, shining his light within to find the source of some thin smoke emitting from deeper in should the cause exist elsewhere while minding a fire extinguisher within reach on his right.

"On it!" responded the orange stallion, walking away to a small storage locker at the end of the compartment. As he did, however, his trots soon turned into stumbles, as if he were hungover on eight drinks. Except he wasn't, the floor was actually beginning to shift beneath him.

Just then, everything started to slide to the left. It was as if the world was slowly flipping upside down. Anchorage's hooves lost grip and he also slipped against the wall, other sailors involuntarily falling victim throughout in the compartment.

"What the fuck's happening?!" one shouted, shielding himself as tools and other loose objects pelted the wall around them as gravity shifted.

Unbeknownst to sailors within the ship without access to a port hole to peek outside, a surge in ocean levels triggered by the explosion had begun to lift the Gibbous and start carrying it westward along with the Aphelion, which threatened to capsize as it climbed the wave sideways.

Without power to control the ship apart from manual steering, which would not do them any justice in their current position, they were essentially at the mercy of the sea and its sudden fit of fury in the form of an enormous tidal wave that only grew larger as it spanned out from the source and gained momentum—and it was headed right for Equestria.

Author's Note

Once more, I apologize this chapter took so long to get out. Computer troubles are not fun, needless to say.