Epilogue - A world goes to war

The Strategium was empty. Or almost so. The monotonous sound of pages of paper flipping was the only thing breaking the silence.

It had been less than a day since Spike had not been in a fight. Yet it felt like years. And the current peace he now enjoyed was more nerve-grating than soothing. War was coming. And as infuriating as it sounded, his role was not on the front with his mistress, but in the back, gathering, filtering and sending back information. So he did. With as much conviction as he could fake.

His mistress counted on him. So he obeyed. This was how he would wage war.

For now.

☀☀☀

War is coming, Applejack thought.

It had been barely two decades since the last major fight in the system. Five, if she only considered the ones that made it to planetfall. It had been a long time, considering the usual pace at which the spacemares fought. It had been a long time, even considering her own lifespan. But most of the ponies in front of her weren’t even born at that time. For them, it would be their first war. Not an exercise. Not a couple of encounters. Not a skirmish against badly prepared insurrectionists or passing through pirates. This time, it was the real deal.

The yellow-armoured spacemare stood in front of them. Her gaze passed through them. Studying them, without ever focusing on a particular individual. There was but a fraction of her ponies here. Most of them were busy defending the town and preparing the barracks for a prolonged siege. Those who would not see her were still listening via vox. They were all waiting.

War is coming, she thought again.

The thought was stronger this time. More tangible. Most of the ponies in front of her would die. Most of the guard in this planet be it on the DP, or in Cloudsdale, or in space fighting the Bats would die. She knew this.

The spacemare took a deep breath. Her lungs filled with air and determination.

“I dunno if you noticed, but we’re under attack,” she started, enticing a few laughs. She waited for them to calm. “And yes,” she added with a more serious tone, “the rumours are true. There are spacemares with the traitors.”

The words struck with the force of a bolter barrage.

“I know what you think. And you’re right, this sucks. Spacemares are not ponies. You were trained for war. We’re born for it, shaped for it and then we’re trained for it. Longer than most of you have lived.” Unease grew stronger. “You’re not fighting soldiers. Those are siege weapons in pony shape. Stronger, faster and tougher. If you face them one on one, you sure as hay will die.”

She stated the truths with no hesitation. Unrest was growing. A constant rumour agitated the soldiers. It was thick into the air, mixed with the potent smell of fear.

“That’s why you won’t do that,” she said with force and confidence. “You don’t face a tank head on. You use a rocket launcher and explosives.” She made a pause and turned toward a large pony covered with scars. “Except you, Head,” she said pointing at him, “you’re the kind of plain dwelling hothead who charges tanks and survives.”

Laughs erupted. The tension was magically disappearing, just as easily as she had conjured it.

“There are more of you than there are of them. You are prepared and armed. You are clever and flexible. If you do things right we may have a chance. But it won’t be easy.”

She paused again and looked into their eyes.

“It takes extraordinary ponies to win against a full spacemare assault. Twice as brave, four times as tough and ten times as strong as a regular soldier. It takes a DP to stand a chance.”

There was a third pause. She looked at her ponies once more. None of them dared look away from her. The fear was still here. But there was something else. There was hope. Applejack took a deep breath and screamed, loud enough to be heard by every one of them, with or without a vox.

“DP BATTALION! ARE YOU WITH ME?”

Hooves hit the ground amongst the enthusiast screams of the soldier. Guards on the barricades started to shout and sing. A confident smile adorned her muzzle.

“Well, DP, time to show’em what we’re made of. We will drive those heretics back to the bucking hole they never should have left. FOR PONYVILLE! FOR THE IMPERIUM! FOR THE ALMIGHTY EMPRESS!”

All around her, soldier repeated her words.

Most of them would die. She knew it. She accepted it. But they would not die without taking the enemy with them. War was coming, and it would have a warm welcome.

☀☀☀

Rarity heard, and felt, the ruckus from her laboratory.

Count on Applejack to motivate the troops, even with such unfavourable odds, she thought, with no small hint of amusement.

She filtered it out with a thought. She needed focus. Her appendages danced around her, adding subtle touches to the semi-mechanised ponies around her. Both servitors were now equipped with several armament systems instead of their usual maintenance tools. She had been reluctant to do so, but exceptional situations required exceptional means. And considering what she’d heard, this situation was as exceptional as they came. A surplus of protection would likely not hurt.

There were dozens of pieces of machinery, weapons and systems that still needed her touch. In the coming hours, there would be hundreds of them, and somehow, she doubted the enemy would be kind and civilised enough to let her do her work. As a result, she would have to make sure her maintenance plan was optimised. Every little addition could save a dozen objectives through butterfly effect. She could not afford to be delayed by unnecessarily long fights... or worse, impaired by them.

So, reluctantly, Rarity armed herself and her servitors.

Most of the weapons in her laboratory were dreadfully inelegant and far too inefficient for her taste. Fortunately, the techmare had already prepared her own armoury.

War is such a messy thing, she mused distractedly. Chaos and random variables, weapons breaking out of their turn and ruffians with unfathomable goals... dreadful.

Rarity shuddered at the thought. Fortunately, the Ponyssiah had given ponykind the tools to deal with the chaos of war. To tame it in a sense. Several of those tools were displayed in front of the Techmare. Most of them were too inelegant and inefficient to her taste. A selected few, however, were right up her alley. She had, after all, designed them herself.

Several instruments of destruction were reviewed, evaluated and rejected in a simple glare. There would be spacemares to fight. Maybe even a Primare’ch. She could not do a half-flanked job. Her selection had to be perfect. Several combinations were considered before she finally made a definitive choice. When she left the weapon racks, two curved blades adorned her anterior servos, two plasma guns rested quietly in holsters on both side of her barrel, and various tools that could either be used to damage or repair filled her utility belt.

This should do the trick.

One more task remained.

she asked her servitor in binary code.

A single affirmative binary vocalisation answered.

As messy as war is,I suppose some things never change, she contemplated.

As usual, she wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not.

☀☀☀

Even by the Marechanicum standards, Ponyville’s awakening chamber was a cold and empty one. Most of the necessary machines, servitors and ritual tools needed to run such a place were remarkably absent. The reanimating devices that still occupied the room were silent and unpowered. There was however one element in its rightful place. In her massive coffin, Fluttershy stood. Immobile. Mute.

But not asleep.

Fluttershy did not sleep. She never slept. Sleep brought memories. Memories of another life, another time, another millennium and distant stars... and distant wars. Sleep brought... false comfort. Sleep brought peace, when the galaxy knew none. Only war was constant. And after years – months? decades? – of ignoring this sector, it had come back.

But deep down, she knew there was something else. Something worse.

What she “feared”, for lack of a better term, was not the false comfort of sleep. What she eluded was the surge she felt inside her when she woke up. The anger. The rage tainting her blood... and which will probably one day take her and never let go.

So Fluttershy didn’t sleep. She waited patiently for war to come upon Ponyville once again. So maybe she could relieve herself... or find an honourable death.

Rarity’s steps rang in the hallway. Repetitive. Precise. The metronomic sound invaded the chamber, chasing the silence. An armoured hoof hit Fluttershy’s shoulder.

No, she corrected herself mentally. Not my shoulder. My tomb’s.

Rarity placed herself in front of her, her hoof still on the cool, lifeless metal of the Dreadnought’s shell. Maybe it was due to the Techmare nature, but the touch never felt as cold as it should. It was always a soothing relief from her condition.

“Are you ready, darling?” she asked with concern.

“I am, Rarity,” Fluttershy answer. She always was.

“Then let’s proceed.”

And then the simulacrum of ritual started. It was as old as their first meeting. Rarity would deactivate and reactivate each and every subsystem of the machines – one after the other, methodically – and Fluttershy would let her do so.

“Ready, darling?”

“... Let’s put an end to this madness.”

There would be no peace for the time being.

☀☀☀

To some, war was a duty, a chore or a necessity. To Pinkie Pie, it was a celebration. And it was her goal to make sure everyone involved enjoyed it as much as possible. For the ponies on her side, that meant killing a lot of enemies and not dying. For the ponies in front of her weapons... it involved dying quickly. If possible even before they even reached the core of the fight.

Why else would they deny the greatness of the Empress, if they didn’t want to die? It would make absolutely no sense at all!

So Pinkie had found herself planning for the party of her life. In the coming days, she would have the greatest guest in the history of guests. So she had to make sure the reception would be flawless.

She had naturally started with the area surrounding the barracks, starting with the north side. Barely one hour after her arrival to the northern quarter, the place had become surprisingly quiet. At its centre, the Glorious Empress plaza looked almost like ancient ruins, rather than an active battlefield. Considering it so, however, would have been a mistake. A mistake which had cost the life of several anti-imperial squads of in the last hours. The place was a death trap, roamed by a silent spectre clad in white and black. Soon the word had passed that the area was haunted and to be avoided until the spacemares’ arrival.

Just according to Pinkie’s plan.

The north wall of the barracks and the surrounding areas would have the time they needed to reinforce their position. Now she’d had to prepare the place for when more troops would come back. Which was just as fun to her as driving enemies away.

“Do you think they’ll like this one Gummy?” she said leaving the hole she’d just dug.

The trap was simple yet effective. A hole and a few well-disposed grenades. Enough to incapacitate a squad of heretics in a tight formation or a light vehicle. Or a spacemare. There were dozens of such traps laid all around the plaza. Each one unique in its conception, but equally lethal.

The spacemare looked at it with an appreciative look. The servo-skull floated closer to her head. Its antigravs whizzed softly as it came closer. The spacemare seemed to find some wisdom in the sound.

“You’re right!” she exclaimed as loudly as discretion permitted. “There something missing to make it really great...”

The pink warmare put her hoof on her chin, taking her best thinking pose. The idea struck her like a sniper round in the head of a cultist, stealing a victorious “HA HA!” from her lips. The mare got back in the hole, adding some key elements to the trap. Looking at her handiwork, Pinkie Pie smiled.

“Done! Now let’s go, Gummy! There’s still plenty of fun to bring to this battlefield!”

☀☀☀

Miles above, another spacemare was enjoying herself. No. It went beyond mere enjoyment. It was excitement at levels mere ponies could not experience.

Rainbow Dash revelled in the idea of fighting the traitor legions. But against a Primare’ch? Against the Primare’ch? This was not war anymore. It was something more. It was... a challenge. It was the challenge. It was the kind battle one only faced once in an entire century. Millenium even. The stuff of legends. And she wouldbe in the front line. She would battle against the infamous Warmistress.

So Rainbow Dash was excited, and if her wide smile was not indication enough, her body language was very explicit.

Cloudsdale’s pilots had never seen the spacemare like this, but they knew her well enough to understand what it meant. There was a glorious fight coming. And it also meant they would have to give more than their maximum.

Rainbow and Ivory stood before what remained of Cloudsdale forces after the purge. The spacemare didn’t even go through her usual rushed introduction. She plunged right into the middle of it.

“Okay, guys. This is lame in my book: dying, missing your target, fleeing and not having a double-digit body count at the end of this. I know you can’t be as awesome as me, but I didn’t train you to be lame! Understood?”

The captains all snickered and smirked but acknowledged the words of the spacemare nonetheless. The strange humour and carefree attitude of the spacemare had always been a refreshing departure from the demigod mythos. They respected her nonetheless. No, they respected her more for it. If her attitude was unexpected for a demi-goddess, her skills were clearly on the divine side.

One after the other they saluted, as the custom wished. They were ready.

“Good. I’ll let Ivory give you the boring details, like who we have to shoot and where.”

With a tired sigh, her second did exactly that, providing them with the specifics of their targets and the battle plans. There was no question.

“Everypony’s okay with that?”

They all nodded.

“Perfect!” she said, reviving her jetpacks. “Now let’s kick their flank so hard they’ll talk about it for another ten thousand years!”

Laughs and roars of excitement echoed in the room. Rainbow Dash barely heard them. She was already outside.

☀☀☀

Like the creature it took its name from, Mares Pattern Rhinos were massive, unwavering beasts roaming the battlefield with a mix of serenity and power. The beast cut through the ruined battlefields without faltering, going through walls and ignoring the road’s newly added holes and irregularities. It was another matter altogether for the ponies inside, who would feel every and any fault in the terrain. All of them save for the golden warpony in their midst.

Just as her transport, Twilight was imperturbably calm. By some feats of equilibrium and perception, the unicorn seemed utterly unphased by the moving vehicle, staying strictly vertical in her position, despite some rather chaotic movements. Her closed eyes furthered the stone-like aspect of the warrior. Like some old statue braving the fury of the element with calm and indifference.

Inside her mind, however, a storm of prayers and devotion raged in honour to the Empress. War was coming. The Warmistress was coming. She would fight soon. So she prayed. For her soul, for her duty, to call the Mind Eye of the Almighty Empress upon her.

Twilight prayed and recited old words. Words of the golden and silver knights... And while doing so, she couldn’t help but think of the ponies this world now depended on...

Inside the barracks, her Monitor was helping her as he could, battling data instead of soldiers.

I am the Hammer...

Several miles away, an orange earth warpony organised the defences and readied ponies for an incoming siege.

I am the edge of Her Sword...

In the ruins of what had once been a power plant, a white furred techmare was trying to salvage whatever she could while fending off cultists.

I am the tip of Her Spear...

In the outskirts of town, a raging, yellow plated, pink bannered dreadnought was opening a path for refugees to get into safety.

I am the iron about Her Hoof...

A few miles above her, a pegasus, clad in white atop multicoloured clouds was about to launch the first series of aerial strikes in the area.

I am the flight of Her Arrows...

A small chock on her cuirasse stopped her. A guard had lost her footing and was now pressed on her. Twilight was wondering if the look of terror in her eyes was due to the prospect of battle or the fact she had disturbed an emissary of the Empress. Twilight elected to dissipate both.

With smooth and slow movements, she helped the guard find back her footing.

“Is it your first war, soldier?” she asked softly.

The pony nodded quickly, getting back to her position and gripping a harness.

“What’s your name, soldier?” she asked.

Said soldier fumbled an answer, barely audible in the vehicle.

Twilight slowly nodded. She turned toward the closest guardsman beside the mare. “What’s your name soldier?”

He jumped and answered nervously. The demi-goddess turned toward the following soldier and repeated her question. Everyone inside had their turn, answering the question of the mare with both nervousness and expectation. When all of them had given her their name, she spoke again, this time addressing them all at once.

“Soldiers, my name is Twilight Sparkle, equustode in the service of the Empress. Today you and I are comrades in battle. Today, each and every one of us carries the name of every pony in this squad, so when one of us dies, their will keeps going through every other member of the squad. Today we carry the hope of every pony on this planet, so we know that when one of us dies, they died protecting this very hope. Today we fight the enemies of the Almighty Empress. Today we wage war in Her name! And today we live and die for Her, here, in Ponyville!”

She had barely raised her voice, but her last words resounded in the vehicles with more force than screams could. The ponies around her now stood proud. Something had changed, and she could see it, even though she didn’t really understand it. And this made her feel slightly awkward.

“Do you know any prayers or battle songs?” she asked the first mare.

The mare nodded, then, after a moment of hesitation, she cleared her throat and started to sing.

War was coming.

The Warmistress was coming.

They would not be found waiting.