Unfinished Businessby AcheronChaptersUB 1 - Canterlot High Economics Class Chapter 1UB 3 - A Red Lined Stormcloud Chapter 2UB 4 - SentienceUB 5 - XCOM - Equestrian Defense Chapter 1UB 2 - A Red Lined Stormcloud Chapter 1UB 1 - Canterlot High Economics Class Chapter 1Prologue – Welcome to the Class Fourth year was always a hassle for most of the new staff hired after the Friendship Games incident. Sure, magic was abundant at Canterlot High, but that did not mean that it was exactly an easy thing to deal with. While, yes, it had been easy enough to deny the claims that Canterlot High was otherworldly, what with the magic shorting out everyone's phones when they tried to record video – that was a nightmare for everyone involved – Principal Celestia had decided to increase the curriculum, to include ever-changing needs for the modern world. Unfortunately, that included a brand-new Economics class. No one understood why Miss Peabottom could not continue to teach Business and Economics side-by-side, but it was besides the point. As the fourth year students filed into the class, seven stood out to the new teacher, who brushed off his bowtie as his somewhat mismatched clothing hung loosely from his body. He had been warned by Principal Celestia to watch out for those seven, including their so-called 'ring leader,' Sunset Shimmer. He smiled as he repositioned his large glasses, laying his hands onto his desk with a heavy thud. “Welcome, one and all! I am your brand new, host with the most teacher, Professor John Q. Discord! Now, before we get started, does anyone here actually understand economics, or how money works?” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched the pink one lift her hand, waving it about. “Anyone who is not Pinkie Pie? Seriously?” He sighed, motioning for her to speak. “Supply and demand, specifically when you're dealing with the exchange of money through trade and goods, such as when I have to make a massive order of cakes and have to limit the supply because I'm running out of ingredients and-” Discord held up his hand, silencing her as she struggled to continue talking. “Ah, much better. Now, the best part is about to come, everyone. While the curriculum wants me to use a boring 'textbook,' I would rather show you what I myself am going to use!” With a wave of his hand, the projector in the room rumbled to life, displaying the proudly displayed logo of a computer game. Specifically, it was the title screen of a game that made much of the class groan. Splashed across the screen was the logo for “Transport Tycoon Deluxe.” ----[----[0]----]---- Rarity looked at the rest of her friends, sighing as she followed the rest of the class to the computer lab, where everyone was 'eagerly' awaiting their turn with the game they were about to play. “Darlings, is it appropriate for us to-” She stopped herself as she watched Pinkie Pie and Twilight discussing different tactics for creating transport networks. “Come on, this'll be awesome! You're not going to deny a chance to not have to do homework, are you, Rarity?” Rainbow Dash jumped in the air to punctuate her sentence, laughing as she drew her arms in, smiling and giggling. “Well, sugarcube, if this here economics class is just going to be doin' stuff on the computer, then I reckon it's not too bad for y'all,” Applejack smiled, winking at Fluttershy, the shy girl proceeding to hide behind Sunset Shimmer. As they entered the computer lab, they could see Professor Discord darting between computers, placing stickers on each one as they stood there, dumbfounded. “Ah, Twilight Sparkle! You're over here! Flash Sentry, this computer. Fluttershy, Rarity, over here! Rainbow Dash, you've got the one in the corner! Applejack, Sunset Shimmer! Near the front! Pinkie Pie- nevermind then.” The professor stood at the front, running his hand through his thick gray hair, waggling his eyebrows as he watched the students' reactions. The students found their names, taking their seats as they looked at their screens. The game's logo was prominently presented, little pixelated planes, trains, and automobiles running around in the background. “Everyone, welcome to the only assignment I am going to give you!” They all stared at the professor before giving him their rapt attention, his eyes themselves smiling as he watched. “The goal of this session is to start up your transport companies. I will keep track of everyone's company on this handy-dandy white board!” Most of the students had begun the game without listening to the professor, forcing him to blow on a whistle no one had noticed he had before. “Students!” “What's the major goal of this assignment, Mr Discord?” “Three things: One, you must pay off your company's 'loan' before the game reaches the ingame year of 1995. For some of you, that will be easy. For others, you may have to be underhanded, but that's how business works. Second, you will have to build your company to use every type of vehicle available to you. Once we reach a certain point, your game will unlock exciting new opportunities, which will enhance your own game potential! Thirdly, you cannot be in negative bank for more than two in-game years. I would not like to fail anyone in this class, but if I have to, I must. Now, join the Economics server, and we shall begin! When you're done setting up your companies, write the name of the company, its main transport, and your name.” Discord retreated from the room, sighing as he breathed. A tap on his shoulder brought his attention to the ketchup-coloured hair of Sunset Shimmer, who frowned at him. “Discord, what are you doing in this world?” “Teaching Economics, my dear Sunset. However, there is always a little chaos to be had in a fun competitive game. Don't worry. You're marked as having passed this course. I need you to observe the reactions of the class. I might make you my assistant for this!” Discord cackled as he left Sunset scratching her head, smiling as his eyes shifted to a rather sharp yellow. “This school really needs a more mild form of chaos, and I shall deliver unto them the promise of true chaos.” UB 3 - A Red Lined Stormcloud Chapter 2The sun. Never knew it much, besides the stories that were told to me when I was just a young colt. The sun was the protector, the bringer of the day, and yet, that never comforted me. I watched the stormy skies every night, wondering if the sun would ever break through. My parents died when I was young, leaving me alone and abandoned in the middle of the most hostile area of what used to be Equestria. Others called it the San Palomino Desert. We called it the Bonelands. I remembered being young and finding my way to a scrap pile, only to find what I thought were others who would be friendly. Instead, they tied me up and attempted to eat me. Attempted, right before I stole a knife and rammed it through their miserable skulls. That was the law of the Bonelands – if you can take it, it's yours. There was no such thing as 'friendship,' nor of the special qualities that would come with that. Stories would always come floating down from the radio broadcaster at the top of the shoddy antenna in the scrap camp I took. Some pony named 'DJ Pon3' would tell about other ponies attempting to make the Equestrian Wasteland better, trying to fix what had happened. I would sigh, and turn back to my scrap, like I always did. “Now you ponies remember when I told you ‘bout those two ponies who crawled themselves out of Stable Two? Well, I’ve been gettin’ reports that one of those little ponies took out the raider nest in the heart of Ponyville, and saved several pony captives -- including the beloved author of The Wasteland Survival Guide, Ditzy Doo!” I'd heard enough of the DJ to tune him out, but something about that caught my ear. Ponies were actually saving others, something unheard of in the Bonelands. Most of the raiders, slavers, and scavengers were more likely to shoot you instead of bartering, though there was the odd lost caravan where somepony could trade caps for some better equipment. In front of me lay several pieces of pipe, wire, motors, and various lengths of rubber. I had spent most of the day scavenging the materials, and I had to say, I was pretty damn proud of myself. The pipes were the body, and with a little twisting and flattening, I would have the limbs as well for the scrap crossbow I was trying to build. I had tried several dozen times before, but the rubber always broke after a few shots. “Come on, Grey. You know this. Hell, you're the one who designed the damned thing!” The image came back as my mind moved into gear, the parts sliding in between my hooves as I unfocused and let my body do the work. I couldn't get DJ Pon3's message out of my head. Of course I had one of those Wasteland Survival Guides, but those did not a lick of good in the Bonelands, where everything was, and would always be, trying to kill you. I turned my full attention back to the hunting tool I was building, and smiled. Without even focusing on it, I could still build it, a testament to the wrench on my flank. Well, where the wrench used to be. I rubbed my prosthetic leg, sighing as I lifted the crossbow. Drawing back the main assembly, I set a sharpened piece of wood on top, aiming at the body of the last raider who thought it was a good idea to try to kill me. With a press of the hook, the bolt zipped away, embedding itself in the forehead of the corpse. “Heh, that was better than ever. Gotta rustle up some more wood or something, though.” A sound in the distance caught my attention as I lifted some of what I could have guessed used to be javelins for sports or the like. Perfect bolts, and already sharped. The sound got closer as I watched a shadow appear out of the sands. The shadow turned into three, and three turned into five, the usual traveling group in the Bonelands. “... scrap's probably gotta be good if Raiders keep dyin' 'ere. Slavers e'en stay 'way from 'ere.” Crawling on my stomach, I lowered the makeshift crossbow down, taking careful aim. They were still a ways off, but I could just barely make out some of their armor. Scavengers. “No way in Tartarus are you taking my home from me.” Breathing in silently, I let my breath go as the bolt slammed into the first shadow, the turmoil ensuing from it rather amusing to watch as the shadows devolved into a mass of fighting. Lifting off the ground, I returned to the scrap house that had always been there, sitting down at a desk and staring at the wall. “So, Beetlesby, how are you?” I held up a small puppet, moving it slightly as I spoke. “'Not bad, Grey. Could be better without all those damn scavengers, but you know how it is.'” I set the puppet down, sighing. Beetlesby had come in a long time before, in an old box filled with scraps of cloth. I used it occasionally to keep some semblance of sanity, but I could feel the isolation getting to me. Self-imposed isolation from others, of course, but that was besides the point. The Scrapyard, as apparently my PipBuck labeled my home, had been around for a long time, ever since I first killed those damnable Raiders. Retrieving a cloak from underneath the desk, I breathed. I always hated leaving my home behind, but sometimes, it was the only way to get supplies. Caravans rarely traveled past the Scrapyard, and if they did, I let them have a place to stay for a few nights, trading stories and tips. Like the one time a caravan had come through with several dozen ponies, and I had found out that they had actually met some of the ponies trying to change the wasteland. As soon as they started talking about 'unity' and other such stuff, I tuned them out, making myself look busy until they finished. I was never good with relationships with others, evident by the loneliness I felt. Ponies in the Bonelands were conniving, back-stabbing little shits who would soon eat you as help you. Oh, did I mention? There was a time when I tried to be hospitable. A couple of ponies in cloaks came round – Misty Falls and Red Shores if I remember – and stayed for a night. I woke up in the morning with my Cutie Mark cut up, and the two of them running away cackling. I spent four weeks healing from that. Healing potions would have been nice, but like everything else, they were scarce. Tossing my PipBuck into my saddlebags, along with some special pieces of scrap, some bottlecaps, and some crossbow bolts, I looked off into the Bonelands. The crossbow on my back, I decided to investigate the body of the scavenger I had killed. Sighing, I trotted towards the corpse. As I got closer, I could sense something was incredibly wrong. There was still blood everywhere, and something began to weigh heavily on me as I neared the corpse. With a gasp, the contents of my stomach erupted forth, spraying the corpse with the remnants of the only meal I had eaten all week. Shaking my head, I looked around at the parts of the body. The head was completely gone, surrounded by a massive bloodspray. The body was splayed open, as if the scavenger had swallowed a grenade of some kind. “So that's one, two, three, four, fi- wait a minute. One, two, three, four, five, si- that's not possible.” I counted the limbs multiple times. I was absolutely sure I had only shot one pony, and one pony alone. Turning around, I stared at where the head had been. Not only was there nothing left, but something else had replaced it. I stopped, freezing in my tracks. There were seven eyeballs. There were six legs around me, and seven eyeballs where the head should be. The shock hit me like a train, forcing me to the ground. Why was there so many eyeballs?! UB 4 - SentienceWithin the confines of a large, grey, disc-like object, floating within a large debris field of what was a planet, or some other sort of celestial body- who could tell when time was nothing like one wanted it to be. Light shone through the portholes as something zipped by, the lone resident of that lonely corner of the universe. “Hey, is anypony here?” It would always ask the same question, no matter what answer it would find. For some, it would mean a mental issue. For others, it means that, for some odd, and mysterious, reason, it would not be considered that they were all alone, left behind in a vast void of nothingness, a darkened shape of seemingly never-ending loops, at least, it seemed that way for the lone resident. It turned down one hallway, the clutter from the ponies that had been there before still laying about the hallways. Service machines had long since collapsed, leaving behind minimal gravity for the... thing to roam around in. As it passed by a door, it stopped to look at a mirror that had been attached to the outside. The door itself, a pneumatic airtight automatic, had ceased to work a long time before. Now all it had for that room was the mirror. It stared at itself, always wondering, always curious. Four wheels adorned the ends of its steel appendages, its metallic face devoid of texture. Its eyes, two symbols of radiation, stared out with the curiousity of a child. Sometimes the walls would echo, and they would seem to say- “I'm sorry.” The machine always turned to the mirror. “What am I?” It always wanted to know, as if the reflection could give the answers it so much desired. When it decided that it could not learn from the mirror, it left it alone, to be approached the next day when it would ask the same question, the same amount of times, until it decided that it was not worth asking. It would zoom away, the wheels it moved upon sparking whenever they turned a corner. It would always stop at one room, its room. Whenever it entered, it always had to stop and laugh at the song that played on the ancient recording device that hung from the wall. “... smile, smile smile!” The device had been damaged a long time before, the glass screen cracked and oozing liquid crystal. The song itself repeated only a fraction of the entirety anymore. The machine stared around the room, taking it in once more. It had collected anything that it considered amazing or wonderful, and had placed them in the room. Stuffed animals representing anything from realistic extinct mammals, to wondrous creatures made from flights of fantasy. Masks decorated with small amounts of paint, taken from the dilapidated suit station down the corridor. A large bed held up by old tires and metal boxes. A computer terminal that spoke every time it entered. “Welcome back. Sentience is a guarantee when working with-” This time, however, the smile upon its countenance faded. Something inside, deep within the lines of code that had forged its positron matrix, stirred. Questions began to form. It stared at the wall. One question stood in its mind. “Am I alive?” The following day – although the sun had long since died, leaving naught for time to be told – it would resume its normal pattern of searching, although it did not approach it with the enthusiasm it used to. Something had affected its mind. Something was shifting, changing. It could feel it. Without even noticing, it would spout off random facts of its construction. “Activation date, unknown. Time active, unknown. Expiration date, two months, three days, six hours, twelve minutes, thirty-three seconds.” It sped along, its voice no longer asking if there was any ponies on the station. An hour before, it had given up the hope of the search, accepting that it might be the only creature onboard the metal disc. It continued its usual rounds, zipping around, but not with the child-like curiosity it once had. As it sped down a hallway, it stopped. There was a doorway there, one it did not remember existing at that point in the hallway. With curiosity, it slowly approached, the dim light from the orbs in its head illuminating the various items inside. A voice emanated from an overturned speaker tower, blood on the floor. Details that it would have never noticed before slowly became more prominent, more noticeable. Holes in the wall, mostly caused by the small pins that littered the floor, the apparent artistry that they once supported long having had decayed away into nothingness. Tables were cracked, and broken glass was scattered all around. It approached the speaker, lifting it. “Entry 741021. Perhaps this station will be the great turning point for ponykind. As we speed forward, we cannot look back. Maybe what we create will be our salvation...” The message repeated continuously, never ceasing, never skipping, always the same exasperated voice of a mare. It looked up at the wall. Upon it sat one symbol, one that did not have any precedence within. A large star, seemingly lightish-red, was upon that wall, surrounded by a small amount of white stars. Lettering around it was illiterate, an ancient system of writing that could not be recognized by itself. Satisfied with the search, it returned to the speaker, lifting it. As it did so, a cord frayed, splitting in two. The message garbled, slowed down, then ceased entirely. Dropping the speaker, it stared down at it, moving slowly around it as it attempted to understand the speaker, and why it had ceased transmitting sound. Its gaze finally fell upon the snapped cord, and the realization dawned on it as it slowly backed away, emotion slowly bubbling to the surface. It fell to what served as its knees, liquid leaking from its eyes. “I... am alone.” That realization, the stirring in the lines of code, and the correlation of millions of points of data inside of its mind, to it, it was akin to death, in a way. It understood. Within its mind, it understood. A mirror hung from the wall, similar to the one- it stared around. While it had been inside the strange room, it did not recall ever having left that room and returning to the mirror. It looked closely at its own visage. While before, it would have never understood or ever cared, it realized that one of the cameras that served as its eyes was cracked ever so slightly. It froze, the basic information spilling forth once more. “Activation date, unknown. Time active, unknown. Expiration date, two months, one day, two hours, seven minutes, twenty-nine seconds.” It stopped. While everything else it was beginning to understand, it did not have the most essential knowledge any creature could have, the knowledge of self. It had no name, it had no identity. It was a wanderer, floating along on the strands of the river of time. It was an unknown constant, a variable with no known speed or direction. It logged the question for review at a later point in time; it wished to rest for a while. “Power online. Welcome back-” It removed itself from the bed it had made for itself, zipping through the station once more. It wished to visit the strange room once more, if only to find more about its own existence. It found the door, entering once more. The speaker was standing once more, the cord hastily repaired with odds and ends of wire. It smiled. It had done that, fixed the speaker. It felt a sense of accomplishment, leaving the speaker to locate the literature at the end of the room. As it sped through the various novels, texts and notes upon the shelves, nothing stood out to it until it found a simple message on a small sheet of paper. When I was a child, I thought like a child, I talked like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a Man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. It opened up a small compartment within what served as its chest, placing the small piece of paper within. While it did not fully understand the words, it felt that it applied to something that it had known. A book on the highest shelf, just out of reach, appealed to itself. It could not read the title completely – the lettering had faded from age – but it could read the front page of the old paper novel. “Titan... I... am Titan.” Titan, it decided, was the name it would be. Titan seemed like the name it would have had before, anyways. Titan sped away, smiling metaphorically – its face did not allow a full range of emotions. It stood in front of the mirror, staring at itself. “Titan. Titan. My name is Titan. Titan.” It repeated the name several times, shifting back and forth but never taking the focus off of itself. It stared at the wall, uncertain. While it had before never worried about anything, the new perceptiveness it had gained was making it uncomfortable. Ideas, thoughts, memories... these new processes came to the forefront of its mind. It stared at the wall. The realization that it, once more, was alone, was a shock to it. It backed away, the mirror catching its eye. It could see the glowing liquid pouring from its eye, the one that was cracked. With a swift movement, it slammed its leg into the mirror, shattering it. Time seemed to slow down as the shards fell to the metal floor, shattering once more into thin slivers of glass. Backing up, it sat, staring. Emotion, something it had never experienced before, entered the forefront of its mind, and it was scared. It realized that, for the first time in its entire existence, it was alone, utterly and completely. Once more, it stood in front of its charging station, spouting off the same data it always did. “Activation date, unknown. Time active, unknown. Expiration date, two months, one days, twelve hours, nine minutes, seven seconds.” The feeling it had, it felt hollow, as if it was no longer living the life it felt it should lead. Outside, for as far as it could see, there were no stars, no other ponies, nothing. It was adrift in space, adrift in what must have been some great feat of science, it reasoned. With a metaphorical heavy heart, it removed itself from the room, speeding along as the thoughts it felt running through its head made their way through. “Come on down to-” Various advertisements still played as it stood in what must have been some sort of commercial area. It had never explored there before, and it did not know why it had come, until it saw the thing. It stared at the white thing on the ground, its sadistic grin never ceasing. Titan lifted it, twirling it around. There was no data as to what the grinning white thing was, but Titan felt it necessary to set it down and not look at it. As he moved, the wheels in his forelegs jammed, sending him flying into an electrical panel. It could feel everything that was happening to it. “Why? Why do I hurt? Maker, where are you-” It almost tripped as it looked down. There was a corpse in front of it, with a blurry nametag, but Titan seemed to recognize it. “I am alone.” It chuckled as its rear wheels locked up. “I am alone.” It slipped as it attempted to trot normally like it believed it should, the joints beginning to seize. “Abnormal systems f-failure- I am alone. Joint assemblies damage- I am alone.” Dragging itself along, it moved slowly towards a doorway it had never noticed, a switch it had never pulled, an action it felt it should never do unless it was necessary. It was hurting, but there was no one there to help. It was scared, and it was alone in the dark. It could perceive, but all it saw was what it could not have ever been. The door opened, the surrounding air rushing through as the airlock exploded, a damaged seal rupturing. With a final wave, Titan was sucked through into the black void of space. It floated, smiling. Everything it had known, everything it had ever known, was gone. It was free, free from the sadness it felt, free to finally do whatever it could. As it drifted, the lights in its eyes beginning to dim, Titan smiled. A true realization had occurred to it. It was alone yes, but there was something else, something far greater. “I am alive.” UB 5 - XCOM - Equestrian Defense Chapter 1On the frontier of a certain sector of space, there existed a world that was the definition of peace, at least, from the viewpoints of many others. The world spun around slowly, unknowing of the sphere that was around it and its sun. Creatures below went about their daily business, unconcerned with anything that might be happening above them in the “stars” that glinted in the sky. In a small town, in appearance of the medieval age, polychromatic beings trotted around, starting on their morning routine. In that small town, there existed a certain tree, where a certain lavender librarian resided, carefully cataloging all of her research books and materials, when a loud explosion rattled the tree. Outside of the window, a fireball streaked through the cloudless sky, flying beings barely scattering before it impacted just outside of the town. The librarian, both curious and frightened, decided to investigate. The strange object was box-like, and long. Two large cylinders jutted from the sides, bent at awkward angles. A large tubular device strapped to the front was sparking, bright green energy spraying every few minutes into an increasingly deepening hole. Strange armour-like pieces were scattered around, blood streaked across them. Barely legible letters were visible on the side of the box. The librarian levitated a rag, wiping away the grime and dust. The name made her step back, an unconscious desire to run overtaking her. “AVENGER” was printed, some of the lettering badly burnt. Her attention was diverted when she heard gasping from the front of the object. Rounding the corner of it, she was shocked to find three creatures, bleeding badly. One held its hand up, its voice raspy. “Help... us...” LOG -:- FIVE DAYS EARLIER “The frontier worlds are dangerous places, kid. Even way back in the day, XCOM would have thought twice about going out by themselves on a rickety old bucket. You may think you're safe with your antique laser rifle, and that Elerium-powered Power Suit, but you won't be safe from a lot of the enemies out there.” An older gentleman stood against the wall, his dark blue armour glinting in the light. “I'm amazed they still let me use this old armour. Those aliens we faced out on the frontier, well, this armour would be like tissue paper to it.” The person he was talking to turned from a large, heavy suit of antiquated XCOM powered armour. His blond hair was streaked with grime, his tan arms scratched up from his hours of work. His uniform, although old, showed the XCOM badge on the shoulder. “I understand that, Cap, but this is for me. I want to find where my father and his Avenger ended up. He had twelve of the best XCOM had to offer with him, and they all disappeared. No trace. Considering how old some of this equipment is, I'm surprised I was able to pick it up for less than twenty thousand Universal Credits. Add into that the Avenger that I was given to tinker with, and I'm sitting on the most expensive pile of antiques this side of Sirius.” He picked up a glowing red rifle, rubbing the top with special care. “I had to build this baby from scratch. XCOM during the First Alien War had the right idea with a recharging power pack. Too bad they didn't have it when those aquatic aliens attacked in the Second Alien War.” He aimed down the sights, targeting a large, comic-style picture of an alien that had been fought years before. A single pull of the trigger, and a crimson beam issued forth, torching the picture. “At least the tech's solid. You know, your mother, if she were still alive-” “Would be discouraging me. I'm my own man now. I've got five people willing to come with me. Five people missing parts of their families too. Parts that remained with my father when he dropped off the grid.” He set the rifle down, being careful not to let it fall onto the wiring that he had wedged into various areas of the powered armour. “So, you've got yourself a squad, then. Well, I would recommend a smaller ship, but the Avenger is the only one still space-worthy. Hopefully they're armed as well?” The younger man nodded, returning to working on the armour. “Mainly older plasma and Gauss weaponry. Built from blueprints, mind you, which means they're more efficient than before. Most of the parts you can get built in full parts instead of just components.” He sat down in an old chair that sat beside the armour, leaning back as it creaked. “Makes it a lot more efficient, but it just doesn't feel like the real deal, you know?” Cap stared down at the young man in interest now. “Plasma and Gauss, eh? Haven't seen those used on the battlefield in forever. Don't forget how heavy some of those plasma guns were. They need to be careful, or they might end up frying each other.” The young man stood up before he doubled over, laughing. “Don't worry, Cap! I'm sure they'll be fine!” LOG -:- PRESENT TIME + CRASH SITE One of the three living beings grasped a twisted section of the outside of the Avenger, hauling itself up. Its head had two weird shaped eyes, which the lavender librarian could not decipher as to why one was much smaller than the other, before the “head” fell off as it stood up. Half of its apparent face was burnt, with what she could only call its “mane” barely holding onto a burned scalp. “Aliens... coming... must... stop... aliens...” It lost its grip, falling down from the Avenger. Landing face-first, one could hear it begin to snore. The librarian shook her head. It had fallen asleep. LOG -:- THREE DAYS EARLIER “We've scanned the planet six times. There's nothing there, no life, no settlements, at least, nothing our sensors pick up, anyways.” One of the five of the young man's squad gripped tightly on his chair, his blue-painted powered suit burned on one shoulder. “Well, we should touch down. This is closer to where my father's Avenger was last seen.” Another squad member lifted his plasma rifle as he glanced nervously around. His armour was black. “I'm really not too sure we should be messing with this. I mean, we almost lost Smith on the last world.” The young man sighed, turning to look at the squad's medic, an older gentleman in white and red armour. “He's right, sir. Smith almost bought the farm. That's never a good thing. He's our engineer.” The medic returned to his station, looking over various diagrams and technical documents. The leader, the young man in brown powered armour, shook his head. “We have to go down there. Helm, scan for dispersed radio signals. Find anything!” He clenched his fist, slamming it down on his seat's armrest. He hoped the planet they found themselves orbiting would hold the residual signal that would lead to his father, to the highest ranked squad in XCOM, ever. Of all time. He rubbed his chin lightly with his hand, staring at the viewscreen in front of him. “Sir? We're detecting radio signals, but they're not from any XCOM or human craft, sir.” The view-screen lit up, designating several UFO signatures. Bright green glows built up on the fronts. “Evasive maneuvers! Get us into the atmosphere!” The helmsman complied, dropping into a lower orbit as to glide through the atmosphere, preventing much of the usual re-entry problems. “Sir! I can't shake them! Sir-” The helmsman was cut short as his console exploded, sending a large chunk of alien alloy through his stomach. He was dead before he hit the ground. “Grayson! Doc, get his body out of- oh no.” The young man turned to see the medic tumbling backwards, a piece of alloy wedged right between his eyes. “No. This is not happening!” Smith, the engineer, entered the bridge, wordlessly taking the helm as he secured his helmet. “Sir, keep yourself together. This world was ashes anyways. There's another planet in this system, looks like it could sustain life. If we could land there-” “Do it!” LOG -:- PRESENT TIME + CRASH SITE The other two “bodies” began to stir and awaken, groaning as they moved. One had sustained severe burning to one arm, while the other had large gashes up and down his back. “Smith? You awake?” “Yeah, I am, Faraday. The question is, did we make it, or are we dead?” They turned to see long drag marks in the ground. Smith removed his helmet, the auto-light adjustments no longer keeping the night out. “Night-time. Huh. First time for everything, eh?” Smith stood up slowly, bones creaking and popping as he straightened out. “We need to find the commander, assess the situation. Those were Cydonian-type UFOs, a type not seen since-” “Yeah, the first Alien War. I know the reports like the back of my hand. The question is, do you know the implications of what is beginning to happen?” “Faraday, I'm not open to speculation until we have a working base of operations, and a few weapons we can use. If those aliens attack again, we might have to make a stand, maybe commandeer one of their ships. I could potentially fly one.” He swung his arm around, mimicking a plane. “Like flying a plane in terrestrial airspace.” He sat down, staring at the sky. “Smith, I understand we need to find the boss, but right now, our priorities should be to establish base camp. Here in the Avenger's wreckage should suffice. It's got the computers, the blueprints, the protection we need.” LOG -:- SIX HOURS EARLIER “Sir! I still can't shake them! We're losing engine power! I can see if I can crash us on that planet! It won't be a good landing, but any landing that you can walk away from is a good one!” Smith wrestled with the controls, nosing down towards the planet, and away from the UFOs that had shown themselves. “Do it! Drop us out of orbit! Crash us if you have to, but get us away from them!” The Avenger began to burn as it entered the atmosphere, chunks flying off and melting in the heat of re-entry. “Sir! We're shaking apart!” The view-screen lit up, pointing out several inhabited areas. “There's life here, sir! This planet is inhabited!” The Avenger streaked through the sky like a burning meteorite, armour continuously melting off in the immense heat. “That's a town, Smith! Drop us outside of that town! Faraday, strap yourself in! This is going to hurt!” LOG -:- PRESENT TIME + CRASH SITE Faraday stood up, helping Smith stand before glancing around. The Avenger was not as badly wrecked as they previously thought, most of the destruction contained within a small crater where the craft now sat. Whistling, he slid open the side door, allowing Grayson's dead body to tumble out, followed by Doc. Smith removed his helmet, checking a camera attached to the side. “The helmet-cam is still operational. A testament to adventure engineering, I suppose.” He replaced his helmet, clambering inside the Avenger. The inside was a complete mess. Helm was all but destroyed, and was still sparking. The weapon locker was across the room, the front end towards the ground. Smith grabbed one side, hauling it up to where he could unlock it. The commander's laser rifle was still in there, along with Smith and Faraday's Gauss rifles. Faraday heaved a relieved sigh. “Well, Grayson and the Doc's plasma rifles are gone. They probably had them on them. Hopefully they're inert.” With their rifles now in their possession, Faraday and Smith sealed their helmets in preparation for any alien chemical attacks. LOG -:- PRESENT TIME + UNKNOWN LOCATION The commander woke up with a start, grasping around with instinct for his laser rifle. His armour was missing, with a small blanket barely covering his genitals. He stared around the room he found himself in. Everything in his brain screamed a trap, except for a small voice he had not heard in a very long time. His curiosity had returned with a vengeance, barely kept in check as he ran through his mental checklist. Was he without weapons and protection? Yes. Was he in some sort of alien examination room, being prepped for surgical interrogation? He glanced around. He was in some sort of library, so he was in no immediate danger. However, there was what seemed to be a heart monitor and something else he could not quite place. Was he still in an unfamiliar place, without any information or backup? That was a given. He stood up, looking around. The blanket fell off, eliciting a small squeak from a source he could not place. Taking two steps forward, he slammed his forehead into a low-hanging beam, knocking himself backwards. When he sat up, he saw, for the first time in his foggy memory, something which would either make him have a heart attack out of the sheer adorableness, or run for the nearest door, keeping his distance from it. It was a lavender equine, with a horn. Blushing. Suffice to say, the commander had no particular idea at all how to react to such a thing, besides the fact she was staring intently at his groin. Instinctively he covered it, averting her eyes to his face. “I'm guessing it's not every day a naked guy ends up in your apartment.” The stream of syllables that flowed from the equine's mouth scared him, to be perfectly honest. So many words in so little time, he wondered if it was related to some of the XCOM eggheads back on Earth, the speed at which they spoke. “Whoa! Slow down, slow down! I can't understand you if you keep speaking that fast!” It seemed to understand, slowing the speech to an understandable level. “How did you come here? What was that metal suit you were wearing? Where are you from? Are you here to harm us? Are we an experiment of interest to a being such as you-” The commander held his hand up, trying to calm down the ecstatic equine. “Classified, classified, not gonna tell you, no, and good grief, no!” He looked at the edge of the room. There was his coveralls, freshly clean. Pain shot from the side of his face. He felt his face, just noticing the bandages wrapped around his head. As he looked back at the equine in front of him, a small explosion reached his ears. With a start, he forgot about the towel, standing up quickly. “The Avenger!” UB 2 - A Red Lined Stormcloud Chapter 1Prologue – The Bonelands, and You Winds. If I'm going to start a journal, I guess I had better start at the beginning, right? Before the ponies, griffons, and other creatures I met. Before I learned what it means to make a difference. Before I start, let me say something about PipBucks, or at least, the one I prefer. The PipBuck 2000 was a rather robust model, though it was more designed for a hoofheld device than something to be strapped to a foreleg. However, it definitely lasted well due to the large memory storage, and the fact that it survived where I live. I rebuilt that little thing from parts I found scattered around a particularly valuable scrap heap, something which looked like it came from before the war, before the big kaboom that ended the world as everypony had known it. At least, that's what the pony who gave it to me said. There are a few issues with the PipBuck 2000 model. First, there is no Eyes Forward Sparkle system. I learned that one the hard way one day. There was a pony with a PipBuck 3000, and they were always glancing around. I found out later that there was a massive concentration of parasprites in the upper floor. Lost my leg to those little eat-everything bastards. Second, since it is hoofheld, and not mounted on the foreleg, the usual StableTec Assisted Targeting Spell of other PipBuck units was a bit... finicky at times. I had to be pretty damn close for a good hit to register. Now, about winds. The San Palomino Desert, or as everypony else called it, the Bonelands, was a large expanse of barely irradiated sand, patches of scrap every little while. Being a tinkerer, those piles of scrap meant something more to me than the other residents of the Bonelands. A lot of parts went into building my Celestia-damned leg. All of which had come from the camp I preferred, around two days journey from the edge of the desert. Oh, before I get too ahead of myself, I should say a few things. My name is Grey Hunter, I'm an earth pony, and I'm a resident of the Bonelands. I should probably sit down and write more on my PipBuck – the thing's note-taking ability is second to none, if you get a grip on how it works. So, now that we have our introductions over, let me tell you now a little something about Stormclouds...
UB 1 - Canterlot High Economics Class Chapter 1Prologue – Welcome to the Class Fourth year was always a hassle for most of the new staff hired after the Friendship Games incident. Sure, magic was abundant at Canterlot High, but that did not mean that it was exactly an easy thing to deal with. While, yes, it had been easy enough to deny the claims that Canterlot High was otherworldly, what with the magic shorting out everyone's phones when they tried to record video – that was a nightmare for everyone involved – Principal Celestia had decided to increase the curriculum, to include ever-changing needs for the modern world. Unfortunately, that included a brand-new Economics class. No one understood why Miss Peabottom could not continue to teach Business and Economics side-by-side, but it was besides the point. As the fourth year students filed into the class, seven stood out to the new teacher, who brushed off his bowtie as his somewhat mismatched clothing hung loosely from his body. He had been warned by Principal Celestia to watch out for those seven, including their so-called 'ring leader,' Sunset Shimmer. He smiled as he repositioned his large glasses, laying his hands onto his desk with a heavy thud. “Welcome, one and all! I am your brand new, host with the most teacher, Professor John Q. Discord! Now, before we get started, does anyone here actually understand economics, or how money works?” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched the pink one lift her hand, waving it about. “Anyone who is not Pinkie Pie? Seriously?” He sighed, motioning for her to speak. “Supply and demand, specifically when you're dealing with the exchange of money through trade and goods, such as when I have to make a massive order of cakes and have to limit the supply because I'm running out of ingredients and-” Discord held up his hand, silencing her as she struggled to continue talking. “Ah, much better. Now, the best part is about to come, everyone. While the curriculum wants me to use a boring 'textbook,' I would rather show you what I myself am going to use!” With a wave of his hand, the projector in the room rumbled to life, displaying the proudly displayed logo of a computer game. Specifically, it was the title screen of a game that made much of the class groan. Splashed across the screen was the logo for “Transport Tycoon Deluxe.” ----[----[0]----]---- Rarity looked at the rest of her friends, sighing as she followed the rest of the class to the computer lab, where everyone was 'eagerly' awaiting their turn with the game they were about to play. “Darlings, is it appropriate for us to-” She stopped herself as she watched Pinkie Pie and Twilight discussing different tactics for creating transport networks. “Come on, this'll be awesome! You're not going to deny a chance to not have to do homework, are you, Rarity?” Rainbow Dash jumped in the air to punctuate her sentence, laughing as she drew her arms in, smiling and giggling. “Well, sugarcube, if this here economics class is just going to be doin' stuff on the computer, then I reckon it's not too bad for y'all,” Applejack smiled, winking at Fluttershy, the shy girl proceeding to hide behind Sunset Shimmer. As they entered the computer lab, they could see Professor Discord darting between computers, placing stickers on each one as they stood there, dumbfounded. “Ah, Twilight Sparkle! You're over here! Flash Sentry, this computer. Fluttershy, Rarity, over here! Rainbow Dash, you've got the one in the corner! Applejack, Sunset Shimmer! Near the front! Pinkie Pie- nevermind then.” The professor stood at the front, running his hand through his thick gray hair, waggling his eyebrows as he watched the students' reactions. The students found their names, taking their seats as they looked at their screens. The game's logo was prominently presented, little pixelated planes, trains, and automobiles running around in the background. “Everyone, welcome to the only assignment I am going to give you!” They all stared at the professor before giving him their rapt attention, his eyes themselves smiling as he watched. “The goal of this session is to start up your transport companies. I will keep track of everyone's company on this handy-dandy white board!” Most of the students had begun the game without listening to the professor, forcing him to blow on a whistle no one had noticed he had before. “Students!” “What's the major goal of this assignment, Mr Discord?” “Three things: One, you must pay off your company's 'loan' before the game reaches the ingame year of 1995. For some of you, that will be easy. For others, you may have to be underhanded, but that's how business works. Second, you will have to build your company to use every type of vehicle available to you. Once we reach a certain point, your game will unlock exciting new opportunities, which will enhance your own game potential! Thirdly, you cannot be in negative bank for more than two in-game years. I would not like to fail anyone in this class, but if I have to, I must. Now, join the Economics server, and we shall begin! When you're done setting up your companies, write the name of the company, its main transport, and your name.” Discord retreated from the room, sighing as he breathed. A tap on his shoulder brought his attention to the ketchup-coloured hair of Sunset Shimmer, who frowned at him. “Discord, what are you doing in this world?” “Teaching Economics, my dear Sunset. However, there is always a little chaos to be had in a fun competitive game. Don't worry. You're marked as having passed this course. I need you to observe the reactions of the class. I might make you my assistant for this!” Discord cackled as he left Sunset scratching her head, smiling as his eyes shifted to a rather sharp yellow. “This school really needs a more mild form of chaos, and I shall deliver unto them the promise of true chaos.”
UB 3 - A Red Lined Stormcloud Chapter 2The sun. Never knew it much, besides the stories that were told to me when I was just a young colt. The sun was the protector, the bringer of the day, and yet, that never comforted me. I watched the stormy skies every night, wondering if the sun would ever break through. My parents died when I was young, leaving me alone and abandoned in the middle of the most hostile area of what used to be Equestria. Others called it the San Palomino Desert. We called it the Bonelands. I remembered being young and finding my way to a scrap pile, only to find what I thought were others who would be friendly. Instead, they tied me up and attempted to eat me. Attempted, right before I stole a knife and rammed it through their miserable skulls. That was the law of the Bonelands – if you can take it, it's yours. There was no such thing as 'friendship,' nor of the special qualities that would come with that. Stories would always come floating down from the radio broadcaster at the top of the shoddy antenna in the scrap camp I took. Some pony named 'DJ Pon3' would tell about other ponies attempting to make the Equestrian Wasteland better, trying to fix what had happened. I would sigh, and turn back to my scrap, like I always did. “Now you ponies remember when I told you ‘bout those two ponies who crawled themselves out of Stable Two? Well, I’ve been gettin’ reports that one of those little ponies took out the raider nest in the heart of Ponyville, and saved several pony captives -- including the beloved author of The Wasteland Survival Guide, Ditzy Doo!” I'd heard enough of the DJ to tune him out, but something about that caught my ear. Ponies were actually saving others, something unheard of in the Bonelands. Most of the raiders, slavers, and scavengers were more likely to shoot you instead of bartering, though there was the odd lost caravan where somepony could trade caps for some better equipment. In front of me lay several pieces of pipe, wire, motors, and various lengths of rubber. I had spent most of the day scavenging the materials, and I had to say, I was pretty damn proud of myself. The pipes were the body, and with a little twisting and flattening, I would have the limbs as well for the scrap crossbow I was trying to build. I had tried several dozen times before, but the rubber always broke after a few shots. “Come on, Grey. You know this. Hell, you're the one who designed the damned thing!” The image came back as my mind moved into gear, the parts sliding in between my hooves as I unfocused and let my body do the work. I couldn't get DJ Pon3's message out of my head. Of course I had one of those Wasteland Survival Guides, but those did not a lick of good in the Bonelands, where everything was, and would always be, trying to kill you. I turned my full attention back to the hunting tool I was building, and smiled. Without even focusing on it, I could still build it, a testament to the wrench on my flank. Well, where the wrench used to be. I rubbed my prosthetic leg, sighing as I lifted the crossbow. Drawing back the main assembly, I set a sharpened piece of wood on top, aiming at the body of the last raider who thought it was a good idea to try to kill me. With a press of the hook, the bolt zipped away, embedding itself in the forehead of the corpse. “Heh, that was better than ever. Gotta rustle up some more wood or something, though.” A sound in the distance caught my attention as I lifted some of what I could have guessed used to be javelins for sports or the like. Perfect bolts, and already sharped. The sound got closer as I watched a shadow appear out of the sands. The shadow turned into three, and three turned into five, the usual traveling group in the Bonelands. “... scrap's probably gotta be good if Raiders keep dyin' 'ere. Slavers e'en stay 'way from 'ere.” Crawling on my stomach, I lowered the makeshift crossbow down, taking careful aim. They were still a ways off, but I could just barely make out some of their armor. Scavengers. “No way in Tartarus are you taking my home from me.” Breathing in silently, I let my breath go as the bolt slammed into the first shadow, the turmoil ensuing from it rather amusing to watch as the shadows devolved into a mass of fighting. Lifting off the ground, I returned to the scrap house that had always been there, sitting down at a desk and staring at the wall. “So, Beetlesby, how are you?” I held up a small puppet, moving it slightly as I spoke. “'Not bad, Grey. Could be better without all those damn scavengers, but you know how it is.'” I set the puppet down, sighing. Beetlesby had come in a long time before, in an old box filled with scraps of cloth. I used it occasionally to keep some semblance of sanity, but I could feel the isolation getting to me. Self-imposed isolation from others, of course, but that was besides the point. The Scrapyard, as apparently my PipBuck labeled my home, had been around for a long time, ever since I first killed those damnable Raiders. Retrieving a cloak from underneath the desk, I breathed. I always hated leaving my home behind, but sometimes, it was the only way to get supplies. Caravans rarely traveled past the Scrapyard, and if they did, I let them have a place to stay for a few nights, trading stories and tips. Like the one time a caravan had come through with several dozen ponies, and I had found out that they had actually met some of the ponies trying to change the wasteland. As soon as they started talking about 'unity' and other such stuff, I tuned them out, making myself look busy until they finished. I was never good with relationships with others, evident by the loneliness I felt. Ponies in the Bonelands were conniving, back-stabbing little shits who would soon eat you as help you. Oh, did I mention? There was a time when I tried to be hospitable. A couple of ponies in cloaks came round – Misty Falls and Red Shores if I remember – and stayed for a night. I woke up in the morning with my Cutie Mark cut up, and the two of them running away cackling. I spent four weeks healing from that. Healing potions would have been nice, but like everything else, they were scarce. Tossing my PipBuck into my saddlebags, along with some special pieces of scrap, some bottlecaps, and some crossbow bolts, I looked off into the Bonelands. The crossbow on my back, I decided to investigate the body of the scavenger I had killed. Sighing, I trotted towards the corpse. As I got closer, I could sense something was incredibly wrong. There was still blood everywhere, and something began to weigh heavily on me as I neared the corpse. With a gasp, the contents of my stomach erupted forth, spraying the corpse with the remnants of the only meal I had eaten all week. Shaking my head, I looked around at the parts of the body. The head was completely gone, surrounded by a massive bloodspray. The body was splayed open, as if the scavenger had swallowed a grenade of some kind. “So that's one, two, three, four, fi- wait a minute. One, two, three, four, five, si- that's not possible.” I counted the limbs multiple times. I was absolutely sure I had only shot one pony, and one pony alone. Turning around, I stared at where the head had been. Not only was there nothing left, but something else had replaced it. I stopped, freezing in my tracks. There were seven eyeballs. There were six legs around me, and seven eyeballs where the head should be. The shock hit me like a train, forcing me to the ground. Why was there so many eyeballs?!
UB 4 - SentienceWithin the confines of a large, grey, disc-like object, floating within a large debris field of what was a planet, or some other sort of celestial body- who could tell when time was nothing like one wanted it to be. Light shone through the portholes as something zipped by, the lone resident of that lonely corner of the universe. “Hey, is anypony here?” It would always ask the same question, no matter what answer it would find. For some, it would mean a mental issue. For others, it means that, for some odd, and mysterious, reason, it would not be considered that they were all alone, left behind in a vast void of nothingness, a darkened shape of seemingly never-ending loops, at least, it seemed that way for the lone resident. It turned down one hallway, the clutter from the ponies that had been there before still laying about the hallways. Service machines had long since collapsed, leaving behind minimal gravity for the... thing to roam around in. As it passed by a door, it stopped to look at a mirror that had been attached to the outside. The door itself, a pneumatic airtight automatic, had ceased to work a long time before. Now all it had for that room was the mirror. It stared at itself, always wondering, always curious. Four wheels adorned the ends of its steel appendages, its metallic face devoid of texture. Its eyes, two symbols of radiation, stared out with the curiousity of a child. Sometimes the walls would echo, and they would seem to say- “I'm sorry.” The machine always turned to the mirror. “What am I?” It always wanted to know, as if the reflection could give the answers it so much desired. When it decided that it could not learn from the mirror, it left it alone, to be approached the next day when it would ask the same question, the same amount of times, until it decided that it was not worth asking. It would zoom away, the wheels it moved upon sparking whenever they turned a corner. It would always stop at one room, its room. Whenever it entered, it always had to stop and laugh at the song that played on the ancient recording device that hung from the wall. “... smile, smile smile!” The device had been damaged a long time before, the glass screen cracked and oozing liquid crystal. The song itself repeated only a fraction of the entirety anymore. The machine stared around the room, taking it in once more. It had collected anything that it considered amazing or wonderful, and had placed them in the room. Stuffed animals representing anything from realistic extinct mammals, to wondrous creatures made from flights of fantasy. Masks decorated with small amounts of paint, taken from the dilapidated suit station down the corridor. A large bed held up by old tires and metal boxes. A computer terminal that spoke every time it entered. “Welcome back. Sentience is a guarantee when working with-” This time, however, the smile upon its countenance faded. Something inside, deep within the lines of code that had forged its positron matrix, stirred. Questions began to form. It stared at the wall. One question stood in its mind. “Am I alive?” The following day – although the sun had long since died, leaving naught for time to be told – it would resume its normal pattern of searching, although it did not approach it with the enthusiasm it used to. Something had affected its mind. Something was shifting, changing. It could feel it. Without even noticing, it would spout off random facts of its construction. “Activation date, unknown. Time active, unknown. Expiration date, two months, three days, six hours, twelve minutes, thirty-three seconds.” It sped along, its voice no longer asking if there was any ponies on the station. An hour before, it had given up the hope of the search, accepting that it might be the only creature onboard the metal disc. It continued its usual rounds, zipping around, but not with the child-like curiosity it once had. As it sped down a hallway, it stopped. There was a doorway there, one it did not remember existing at that point in the hallway. With curiosity, it slowly approached, the dim light from the orbs in its head illuminating the various items inside. A voice emanated from an overturned speaker tower, blood on the floor. Details that it would have never noticed before slowly became more prominent, more noticeable. Holes in the wall, mostly caused by the small pins that littered the floor, the apparent artistry that they once supported long having had decayed away into nothingness. Tables were cracked, and broken glass was scattered all around. It approached the speaker, lifting it. “Entry 741021. Perhaps this station will be the great turning point for ponykind. As we speed forward, we cannot look back. Maybe what we create will be our salvation...” The message repeated continuously, never ceasing, never skipping, always the same exasperated voice of a mare. It looked up at the wall. Upon it sat one symbol, one that did not have any precedence within. A large star, seemingly lightish-red, was upon that wall, surrounded by a small amount of white stars. Lettering around it was illiterate, an ancient system of writing that could not be recognized by itself. Satisfied with the search, it returned to the speaker, lifting it. As it did so, a cord frayed, splitting in two. The message garbled, slowed down, then ceased entirely. Dropping the speaker, it stared down at it, moving slowly around it as it attempted to understand the speaker, and why it had ceased transmitting sound. Its gaze finally fell upon the snapped cord, and the realization dawned on it as it slowly backed away, emotion slowly bubbling to the surface. It fell to what served as its knees, liquid leaking from its eyes. “I... am alone.” That realization, the stirring in the lines of code, and the correlation of millions of points of data inside of its mind, to it, it was akin to death, in a way. It understood. Within its mind, it understood. A mirror hung from the wall, similar to the one- it stared around. While it had been inside the strange room, it did not recall ever having left that room and returning to the mirror. It looked closely at its own visage. While before, it would have never understood or ever cared, it realized that one of the cameras that served as its eyes was cracked ever so slightly. It froze, the basic information spilling forth once more. “Activation date, unknown. Time active, unknown. Expiration date, two months, one day, two hours, seven minutes, twenty-nine seconds.” It stopped. While everything else it was beginning to understand, it did not have the most essential knowledge any creature could have, the knowledge of self. It had no name, it had no identity. It was a wanderer, floating along on the strands of the river of time. It was an unknown constant, a variable with no known speed or direction. It logged the question for review at a later point in time; it wished to rest for a while. “Power online. Welcome back-” It removed itself from the bed it had made for itself, zipping through the station once more. It wished to visit the strange room once more, if only to find more about its own existence. It found the door, entering once more. The speaker was standing once more, the cord hastily repaired with odds and ends of wire. It smiled. It had done that, fixed the speaker. It felt a sense of accomplishment, leaving the speaker to locate the literature at the end of the room. As it sped through the various novels, texts and notes upon the shelves, nothing stood out to it until it found a simple message on a small sheet of paper. When I was a child, I thought like a child, I talked like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a Man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. It opened up a small compartment within what served as its chest, placing the small piece of paper within. While it did not fully understand the words, it felt that it applied to something that it had known. A book on the highest shelf, just out of reach, appealed to itself. It could not read the title completely – the lettering had faded from age – but it could read the front page of the old paper novel. “Titan... I... am Titan.” Titan, it decided, was the name it would be. Titan seemed like the name it would have had before, anyways. Titan sped away, smiling metaphorically – its face did not allow a full range of emotions. It stood in front of the mirror, staring at itself. “Titan. Titan. My name is Titan. Titan.” It repeated the name several times, shifting back and forth but never taking the focus off of itself. It stared at the wall, uncertain. While it had before never worried about anything, the new perceptiveness it had gained was making it uncomfortable. Ideas, thoughts, memories... these new processes came to the forefront of its mind. It stared at the wall. The realization that it, once more, was alone, was a shock to it. It backed away, the mirror catching its eye. It could see the glowing liquid pouring from its eye, the one that was cracked. With a swift movement, it slammed its leg into the mirror, shattering it. Time seemed to slow down as the shards fell to the metal floor, shattering once more into thin slivers of glass. Backing up, it sat, staring. Emotion, something it had never experienced before, entered the forefront of its mind, and it was scared. It realized that, for the first time in its entire existence, it was alone, utterly and completely. Once more, it stood in front of its charging station, spouting off the same data it always did. “Activation date, unknown. Time active, unknown. Expiration date, two months, one days, twelve hours, nine minutes, seven seconds.” The feeling it had, it felt hollow, as if it was no longer living the life it felt it should lead. Outside, for as far as it could see, there were no stars, no other ponies, nothing. It was adrift in space, adrift in what must have been some great feat of science, it reasoned. With a metaphorical heavy heart, it removed itself from the room, speeding along as the thoughts it felt running through its head made their way through. “Come on down to-” Various advertisements still played as it stood in what must have been some sort of commercial area. It had never explored there before, and it did not know why it had come, until it saw the thing. It stared at the white thing on the ground, its sadistic grin never ceasing. Titan lifted it, twirling it around. There was no data as to what the grinning white thing was, but Titan felt it necessary to set it down and not look at it. As he moved, the wheels in his forelegs jammed, sending him flying into an electrical panel. It could feel everything that was happening to it. “Why? Why do I hurt? Maker, where are you-” It almost tripped as it looked down. There was a corpse in front of it, with a blurry nametag, but Titan seemed to recognize it. “I am alone.” It chuckled as its rear wheels locked up. “I am alone.” It slipped as it attempted to trot normally like it believed it should, the joints beginning to seize. “Abnormal systems f-failure- I am alone. Joint assemblies damage- I am alone.” Dragging itself along, it moved slowly towards a doorway it had never noticed, a switch it had never pulled, an action it felt it should never do unless it was necessary. It was hurting, but there was no one there to help. It was scared, and it was alone in the dark. It could perceive, but all it saw was what it could not have ever been. The door opened, the surrounding air rushing through as the airlock exploded, a damaged seal rupturing. With a final wave, Titan was sucked through into the black void of space. It floated, smiling. Everything it had known, everything it had ever known, was gone. It was free, free from the sadness it felt, free to finally do whatever it could. As it drifted, the lights in its eyes beginning to dim, Titan smiled. A true realization had occurred to it. It was alone yes, but there was something else, something far greater. “I am alive.”
UB 5 - XCOM - Equestrian Defense Chapter 1On the frontier of a certain sector of space, there existed a world that was the definition of peace, at least, from the viewpoints of many others. The world spun around slowly, unknowing of the sphere that was around it and its sun. Creatures below went about their daily business, unconcerned with anything that might be happening above them in the “stars” that glinted in the sky. In a small town, in appearance of the medieval age, polychromatic beings trotted around, starting on their morning routine. In that small town, there existed a certain tree, where a certain lavender librarian resided, carefully cataloging all of her research books and materials, when a loud explosion rattled the tree. Outside of the window, a fireball streaked through the cloudless sky, flying beings barely scattering before it impacted just outside of the town. The librarian, both curious and frightened, decided to investigate. The strange object was box-like, and long. Two large cylinders jutted from the sides, bent at awkward angles. A large tubular device strapped to the front was sparking, bright green energy spraying every few minutes into an increasingly deepening hole. Strange armour-like pieces were scattered around, blood streaked across them. Barely legible letters were visible on the side of the box. The librarian levitated a rag, wiping away the grime and dust. The name made her step back, an unconscious desire to run overtaking her. “AVENGER” was printed, some of the lettering badly burnt. Her attention was diverted when she heard gasping from the front of the object. Rounding the corner of it, she was shocked to find three creatures, bleeding badly. One held its hand up, its voice raspy. “Help... us...” LOG -:- FIVE DAYS EARLIER “The frontier worlds are dangerous places, kid. Even way back in the day, XCOM would have thought twice about going out by themselves on a rickety old bucket. You may think you're safe with your antique laser rifle, and that Elerium-powered Power Suit, but you won't be safe from a lot of the enemies out there.” An older gentleman stood against the wall, his dark blue armour glinting in the light. “I'm amazed they still let me use this old armour. Those aliens we faced out on the frontier, well, this armour would be like tissue paper to it.” The person he was talking to turned from a large, heavy suit of antiquated XCOM powered armour. His blond hair was streaked with grime, his tan arms scratched up from his hours of work. His uniform, although old, showed the XCOM badge on the shoulder. “I understand that, Cap, but this is for me. I want to find where my father and his Avenger ended up. He had twelve of the best XCOM had to offer with him, and they all disappeared. No trace. Considering how old some of this equipment is, I'm surprised I was able to pick it up for less than twenty thousand Universal Credits. Add into that the Avenger that I was given to tinker with, and I'm sitting on the most expensive pile of antiques this side of Sirius.” He picked up a glowing red rifle, rubbing the top with special care. “I had to build this baby from scratch. XCOM during the First Alien War had the right idea with a recharging power pack. Too bad they didn't have it when those aquatic aliens attacked in the Second Alien War.” He aimed down the sights, targeting a large, comic-style picture of an alien that had been fought years before. A single pull of the trigger, and a crimson beam issued forth, torching the picture. “At least the tech's solid. You know, your mother, if she were still alive-” “Would be discouraging me. I'm my own man now. I've got five people willing to come with me. Five people missing parts of their families too. Parts that remained with my father when he dropped off the grid.” He set the rifle down, being careful not to let it fall onto the wiring that he had wedged into various areas of the powered armour. “So, you've got yourself a squad, then. Well, I would recommend a smaller ship, but the Avenger is the only one still space-worthy. Hopefully they're armed as well?” The younger man nodded, returning to working on the armour. “Mainly older plasma and Gauss weaponry. Built from blueprints, mind you, which means they're more efficient than before. Most of the parts you can get built in full parts instead of just components.” He sat down in an old chair that sat beside the armour, leaning back as it creaked. “Makes it a lot more efficient, but it just doesn't feel like the real deal, you know?” Cap stared down at the young man in interest now. “Plasma and Gauss, eh? Haven't seen those used on the battlefield in forever. Don't forget how heavy some of those plasma guns were. They need to be careful, or they might end up frying each other.” The young man stood up before he doubled over, laughing. “Don't worry, Cap! I'm sure they'll be fine!” LOG -:- PRESENT TIME + CRASH SITE One of the three living beings grasped a twisted section of the outside of the Avenger, hauling itself up. Its head had two weird shaped eyes, which the lavender librarian could not decipher as to why one was much smaller than the other, before the “head” fell off as it stood up. Half of its apparent face was burnt, with what she could only call its “mane” barely holding onto a burned scalp. “Aliens... coming... must... stop... aliens...” It lost its grip, falling down from the Avenger. Landing face-first, one could hear it begin to snore. The librarian shook her head. It had fallen asleep. LOG -:- THREE DAYS EARLIER “We've scanned the planet six times. There's nothing there, no life, no settlements, at least, nothing our sensors pick up, anyways.” One of the five of the young man's squad gripped tightly on his chair, his blue-painted powered suit burned on one shoulder. “Well, we should touch down. This is closer to where my father's Avenger was last seen.” Another squad member lifted his plasma rifle as he glanced nervously around. His armour was black. “I'm really not too sure we should be messing with this. I mean, we almost lost Smith on the last world.” The young man sighed, turning to look at the squad's medic, an older gentleman in white and red armour. “He's right, sir. Smith almost bought the farm. That's never a good thing. He's our engineer.” The medic returned to his station, looking over various diagrams and technical documents. The leader, the young man in brown powered armour, shook his head. “We have to go down there. Helm, scan for dispersed radio signals. Find anything!” He clenched his fist, slamming it down on his seat's armrest. He hoped the planet they found themselves orbiting would hold the residual signal that would lead to his father, to the highest ranked squad in XCOM, ever. Of all time. He rubbed his chin lightly with his hand, staring at the viewscreen in front of him. “Sir? We're detecting radio signals, but they're not from any XCOM or human craft, sir.” The view-screen lit up, designating several UFO signatures. Bright green glows built up on the fronts. “Evasive maneuvers! Get us into the atmosphere!” The helmsman complied, dropping into a lower orbit as to glide through the atmosphere, preventing much of the usual re-entry problems. “Sir! I can't shake them! Sir-” The helmsman was cut short as his console exploded, sending a large chunk of alien alloy through his stomach. He was dead before he hit the ground. “Grayson! Doc, get his body out of- oh no.” The young man turned to see the medic tumbling backwards, a piece of alloy wedged right between his eyes. “No. This is not happening!” Smith, the engineer, entered the bridge, wordlessly taking the helm as he secured his helmet. “Sir, keep yourself together. This world was ashes anyways. There's another planet in this system, looks like it could sustain life. If we could land there-” “Do it!” LOG -:- PRESENT TIME + CRASH SITE The other two “bodies” began to stir and awaken, groaning as they moved. One had sustained severe burning to one arm, while the other had large gashes up and down his back. “Smith? You awake?” “Yeah, I am, Faraday. The question is, did we make it, or are we dead?” They turned to see long drag marks in the ground. Smith removed his helmet, the auto-light adjustments no longer keeping the night out. “Night-time. Huh. First time for everything, eh?” Smith stood up slowly, bones creaking and popping as he straightened out. “We need to find the commander, assess the situation. Those were Cydonian-type UFOs, a type not seen since-” “Yeah, the first Alien War. I know the reports like the back of my hand. The question is, do you know the implications of what is beginning to happen?” “Faraday, I'm not open to speculation until we have a working base of operations, and a few weapons we can use. If those aliens attack again, we might have to make a stand, maybe commandeer one of their ships. I could potentially fly one.” He swung his arm around, mimicking a plane. “Like flying a plane in terrestrial airspace.” He sat down, staring at the sky. “Smith, I understand we need to find the boss, but right now, our priorities should be to establish base camp. Here in the Avenger's wreckage should suffice. It's got the computers, the blueprints, the protection we need.” LOG -:- SIX HOURS EARLIER “Sir! I still can't shake them! We're losing engine power! I can see if I can crash us on that planet! It won't be a good landing, but any landing that you can walk away from is a good one!” Smith wrestled with the controls, nosing down towards the planet, and away from the UFOs that had shown themselves. “Do it! Drop us out of orbit! Crash us if you have to, but get us away from them!” The Avenger began to burn as it entered the atmosphere, chunks flying off and melting in the heat of re-entry. “Sir! We're shaking apart!” The view-screen lit up, pointing out several inhabited areas. “There's life here, sir! This planet is inhabited!” The Avenger streaked through the sky like a burning meteorite, armour continuously melting off in the immense heat. “That's a town, Smith! Drop us outside of that town! Faraday, strap yourself in! This is going to hurt!” LOG -:- PRESENT TIME + CRASH SITE Faraday stood up, helping Smith stand before glancing around. The Avenger was not as badly wrecked as they previously thought, most of the destruction contained within a small crater where the craft now sat. Whistling, he slid open the side door, allowing Grayson's dead body to tumble out, followed by Doc. Smith removed his helmet, checking a camera attached to the side. “The helmet-cam is still operational. A testament to adventure engineering, I suppose.” He replaced his helmet, clambering inside the Avenger. The inside was a complete mess. Helm was all but destroyed, and was still sparking. The weapon locker was across the room, the front end towards the ground. Smith grabbed one side, hauling it up to where he could unlock it. The commander's laser rifle was still in there, along with Smith and Faraday's Gauss rifles. Faraday heaved a relieved sigh. “Well, Grayson and the Doc's plasma rifles are gone. They probably had them on them. Hopefully they're inert.” With their rifles now in their possession, Faraday and Smith sealed their helmets in preparation for any alien chemical attacks. LOG -:- PRESENT TIME + UNKNOWN LOCATION The commander woke up with a start, grasping around with instinct for his laser rifle. His armour was missing, with a small blanket barely covering his genitals. He stared around the room he found himself in. Everything in his brain screamed a trap, except for a small voice he had not heard in a very long time. His curiosity had returned with a vengeance, barely kept in check as he ran through his mental checklist. Was he without weapons and protection? Yes. Was he in some sort of alien examination room, being prepped for surgical interrogation? He glanced around. He was in some sort of library, so he was in no immediate danger. However, there was what seemed to be a heart monitor and something else he could not quite place. Was he still in an unfamiliar place, without any information or backup? That was a given. He stood up, looking around. The blanket fell off, eliciting a small squeak from a source he could not place. Taking two steps forward, he slammed his forehead into a low-hanging beam, knocking himself backwards. When he sat up, he saw, for the first time in his foggy memory, something which would either make him have a heart attack out of the sheer adorableness, or run for the nearest door, keeping his distance from it. It was a lavender equine, with a horn. Blushing. Suffice to say, the commander had no particular idea at all how to react to such a thing, besides the fact she was staring intently at his groin. Instinctively he covered it, averting her eyes to his face. “I'm guessing it's not every day a naked guy ends up in your apartment.” The stream of syllables that flowed from the equine's mouth scared him, to be perfectly honest. So many words in so little time, he wondered if it was related to some of the XCOM eggheads back on Earth, the speed at which they spoke. “Whoa! Slow down, slow down! I can't understand you if you keep speaking that fast!” It seemed to understand, slowing the speech to an understandable level. “How did you come here? What was that metal suit you were wearing? Where are you from? Are you here to harm us? Are we an experiment of interest to a being such as you-” The commander held his hand up, trying to calm down the ecstatic equine. “Classified, classified, not gonna tell you, no, and good grief, no!” He looked at the edge of the room. There was his coveralls, freshly clean. Pain shot from the side of his face. He felt his face, just noticing the bandages wrapped around his head. As he looked back at the equine in front of him, a small explosion reached his ears. With a start, he forgot about the towel, standing up quickly. “The Avenger!”
UB 2 - A Red Lined Stormcloud Chapter 1Prologue – The Bonelands, and You Winds. If I'm going to start a journal, I guess I had better start at the beginning, right? Before the ponies, griffons, and other creatures I met. Before I learned what it means to make a difference. Before I start, let me say something about PipBucks, or at least, the one I prefer. The PipBuck 2000 was a rather robust model, though it was more designed for a hoofheld device than something to be strapped to a foreleg. However, it definitely lasted well due to the large memory storage, and the fact that it survived where I live. I rebuilt that little thing from parts I found scattered around a particularly valuable scrap heap, something which looked like it came from before the war, before the big kaboom that ended the world as everypony had known it. At least, that's what the pony who gave it to me said. There are a few issues with the PipBuck 2000 model. First, there is no Eyes Forward Sparkle system. I learned that one the hard way one day. There was a pony with a PipBuck 3000, and they were always glancing around. I found out later that there was a massive concentration of parasprites in the upper floor. Lost my leg to those little eat-everything bastards. Second, since it is hoofheld, and not mounted on the foreleg, the usual StableTec Assisted Targeting Spell of other PipBuck units was a bit... finicky at times. I had to be pretty damn close for a good hit to register. Now, about winds. The San Palomino Desert, or as everypony else called it, the Bonelands, was a large expanse of barely irradiated sand, patches of scrap every little while. Being a tinkerer, those piles of scrap meant something more to me than the other residents of the Bonelands. A lot of parts went into building my Celestia-damned leg. All of which had come from the camp I preferred, around two days journey from the edge of the desert. Oh, before I get too ahead of myself, I should say a few things. My name is Grey Hunter, I'm an earth pony, and I'm a resident of the Bonelands. I should probably sit down and write more on my PipBuck – the thing's note-taking ability is second to none, if you get a grip on how it works. So, now that we have our introductions over, let me tell you now a little something about Stormclouds...
