The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie

Chapters

Prologue: Submitted for your Approval. The Introduction to the Question, What If?
Chapter 1: Meet The Brilliant Dr. de Lancie
Chapter 2: Tinman, the God of War
Chapter 3: The Diabolical Machine; A Double-Edged Blade, an Instrument of Destruction and Regret

Prologue: Submitted for your Approval. The Introduction to the Question, What If?

The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie

A Story by Talonmach5

Prologue: An introduction to the Question. What If?

"The great masses will more easily fall victim to a big lie than to a small one"
-Adolf Hitler

Smoke and ash. That’s the entirety of what the broken and humbled mare saw for miles in every direction. It was never supposed to be like this. Looking down, the mare who was once beloved by all sheds tears of regret over what had happened to everypony. All of them were gone now. Either captured and being changed by the invader’s secret weapon, or having abandoned her when once they learned the truth. ‘The truth, what a bitter pill to swallow,’ she thought ruefully to herself, thinking of the irony that such a simple thing was responsible for the total ruination of all she held dear. But what other choice did she have? She couldn’t stand by as those who trusted her were destroyed by these wrathful invaders.

She could feel it. She didn’t even need to look up to know that it was time now. So intimately did she know the position of the sun overhead, that she could tell anypony who asked the precise time down to the second. But that didn’t matter now, nothing did. Everything was gone now. The land she had strived so hard to protect was now blight. The ponies she had worked tirelessly to protect from the evils of the invader’s world, had tasted a full measure of their wrath. And now like the others before her, she would have to face her accusers. Standing up from the cold metal floor of her cell, she stood ready. Her mane which once flowed like luxurious silk now hung limp and unkempt. Her hooves once shod in gold, now lay cracked and bare. Once she wore a solid gold peytral bearing the seal of her authority, but now she only wore the unyielding steel chains of her captors around her neck. No longer did the once proud ruler carry a crown upon her head, instead her broken and shattered horn were the only remnants of her former glory and power.

When she heard the heavy footsteps of her captors approaching her cell, she felt a slight shiver of fear course through her. Lowering her head, she prepared herself to face them as the sunlight filtered down on her through the heavily polluted sky. She saw the brutes staring at her through the bars of her cell, treating her like some dumb animal in a menagerie. Looking at her captors, she saw that there were six in number each of which had their cruel weapons trained on her. The largest one stepped forward, unlocked the door, and slid it open. Motioning at her with his weapon, the jailor silently ordered her to step forward. Looking up at the ash filled sky, part of her wanted to escape to take flight and leave this place behind. Tensing her muscles, the unyielding metal manacles clamped tightly around her wings quickly rid her of any wishful thoughts of escaping. The head jailor satisfied that his prisoner would be compliant, took hold of the metal chain around her neck and led her down the broken road to face her judge, jury, and by the looks of it executioner.

The silent walk towards where the victorious invaders had made their base of operations was nearly stifling. Somehow, she thought that receiving jeers, insults, and shouts of disdain getting hurled at her would have made facing their anger more tolerable. But unlike any other victorious army, all she received was uncaring glances followed by deafening silence. Overhead she saw a few birds flying, and heard the buzzing of insects in the background. Looking up at the mountains, she saw in the distance the once proud and majestic city of Canterlot now in ruins. The invaders, not content with just her capture had laid waste to the city so that the majority of it had broken free from the mountain side and slid down onto the valley below.

Walking through their camp, she saw the broken and shattered remnants of Ponyville. She remembered the few times that she had visited the town previously, it had been treated with such care by its residents. Now it was nearly unrecognizable, the invaders had been particularly vicious towards this unassuming town. Not a single structure was left standing. She noticed that they had taken especial care to destroy or deface as much of the city as possible. Sweet Apple Acres, the nationwide famous orchard was now merely a charred memory with every apple tree having been torched. The Carousel Boutique a clothiers shop was now a hollowed out broken building, which judging by the smell was being used as a latrine. Passing by the town bakery Sugarcube Corner, all she saw was a few pink pieces of its trim beneath the bulk of one of the metal monsters the invaders employed. Finally they approached the one place she didn’t want to see. Closing her eyes she tried avoiding looking at it, but felt a sharp painful shock on her flanks as one of the monsters escorting her jabbed one of his pulsating weapons into her side. Opening her eyes in pain, she saw what she hoped not to. The town’s center of learning, the Books and Branches Library was now a gutted and charred husk. They had torched the library and all the books inside, and were now using the site as a refuse dump.

Soon they would be there. Tilting her ears back she felt dread and fear enter her as never before, as she hoped beyond hope they had been spared. Looking up at the ponies in the numerous cages, she saw by their unresponsive hollow eyes that they hadn’t. The prisoner lowered her head despondently. Somehow she had naively hoped that they would have been spared after she had surrendered herself. Looking at them in sorrow, she saw them staring dumbly back not recognizing her or anything of their surroundings. Closing her eyes, she wept as she saw what had become of her faithful student. Once one of the greatest minds to have ever been born in centuries, now she was nothing more than a dumb animal staring back at her teacher unblinkingly. Looking at her students companions, she saw they had fared no better. In cages besides the purple unicorn were five others who had suffered similar fates. The blue Pegasus, who once dreamed of joining the Wonderbolts and dazzling audiences with her skill and bravery, sat cowering in a corner confused and afraid of her surroundings. The pink mare, once the most cheerful of all her citizens sat on her haunches with an empty look of apathy not even bothering to look at her surroundings. The white unicorn, who was a flower of loveliness and beauty, was a mess. Her once pristine coat and immaculately styled mane was covered in filth and mud, while her head was buried into the feed box that had been provided for her. The yellow Pegasus, a kind and gentle soul who loved all animals, was covered in ticks and fleas. Helplessly she mewled, as the monsters ignored her discomfort before hosing her down with a stream of water. The orange farmer, who once ran the orchard with care and dedication, now slowly ate a few rotten apples that her captors had so graciously gifted her with.

With a heart full of despair and sorrow, the prisoner didn’t think she could bear to see anymore until she saw her sister. She saw that they had tied her beloved younger sister’s legs to posts, and forced a muzzle over her mouth. When she saw the look of abject humiliation on her face, the prisoner wished that she could crawl into some black pit and fade into oblivion. Try as she might, she couldn’t look away and saw her sister giving her a look of outrage that screamed ‘How could you have done this to us, to our people, to me?’ She had no answer, instead hung her head in shame as she walked past.

Try as she might, the prisoner couldn’t bring herself to hate her captors even though they had taken away everything she had held dear. In truth, they were as much a victim of circumstance as her poor people in all this. As she approached the place of her trial, and presumable execution she wondered, ‘Did it really have to come to this? They were wronged, but didn’t we try to make it right? Perhaps if we had shared the truth with them to begin with, this whole ordeal could have been avoided.’ The prisoner pushed aside these thoughts as she stood before the one who had broken her.

The great metal giant stood in front of her, like a colossus of doom. Had anypony had told her a scant few years prior that such a being could exist, she would have thought them madponies. The very idea that machines imbued with the souls of the living could exist was beyond the realm of science, and even on the fringe of the fantastic. Until now, none of her escort had uttered a word, nor made a sound beyond that of their moving metal bodies. Each of them was unique in some fashion yet frighteningly similar in purpose, weapons of war. Some flew as fast as pegasi, others were capable of feats like invisibility that some of her greatest mages would be hard pressed to duplicate. Some of them were as vicious as diamond dogs and as sturdy as earth ponies, and even a few had power that dwarfed that of the dragons! Of all their number, none frightened her more than the one standing in front of her. In all her many dealing with their home realm, she had only head tales of what these great metal monsters were capable of. Of those, she had heard scant rumors told of the mightiest one of all, Tinman.

Among the newfoals she had asked when she learned of the invasion of these men made metal, all she received in return were looks of shock and then fear. It wasn’t until the utter destruction of Manehattan did she understand why they feared them so. Within the space of under an hour, they descended upon the city like a hydra to carrion leaving behind only collapsed buildings and the broken bodies of her people. How could a city as large and great as Manehattan fall in under an hour? How could so many have been snuffed out as easily as a candle? How could they be so ruthless, so merciless? How could they? The answer to these questions the prisoner didn’t know, all she knew was that the blood of so many ponies weighed down on her head like a great weight begging to be released.

“Celestia…” the great machine rumbled, its voice reflecting no emotion beyond the fact of the simple statement. “Do you know why you are here?”

“I do…” Celestia said, hanging her head low to the Earth attempting to hide her tears of sorrow for what she had seen.

“You stand charged of crimes against humanity by the World Government of Earth,” the machine said, its array generating a holographic field displaying the Earth rotating above her head and bearing the seal of the World Government. “How do you answer these charges?”

Celestia desperately wanted to denounce these charges as blatant falsehoods and pure fabrication, but knew it would do no good. As far as Tinman’s masters were concerned she was guilty, and this trial was only for show to assuage their masses clamoring for vengeance. “I… I have no answer,” she said, not wanting to dignify this farce of a trial with an admission of guilt or humiliating herself further in begging for mercy.

The machine known only as Tinman said nothing. Lowering itself towards her with its six mighty legs, it leaned forward until it towered over her. The sight of such a massive creature blotting out the sky over her sent shivers of fear down her spine, yet she didn’t waver and remained silent.

With his array directly in front of her face, Tinman spoke through his speakers, “Perhaps refreshing your memory on the series of event that led us to where we are now, would inculcate you to your guilt in this matter,” he said, as the holographic images changed to a picture of an earlier Earth, one before all this had happened. An Earth before the singularity opened up in the Pacific. An Earth before Equestria.

*****

"There is nothing wrong with your monitor." a disembodied voice says. "Do not attempt to adjust browser. We are now controlling the transmission. We control the horizontal, and the vertical. We can deluge you with a thousand stories, or expand one single thought to crystal clarity and beyond. We can shape your vision to anything our imagination can conceive. We will control all that you see and read."

“Respectfully submitted for your approval…” the voice continues, before its owner steps out of the shadows and into the light revealing the narrator. The narrator is like nothing you’ve ever seen before. His body consists entirely of an odd conglomeration of animals parts, each different form the other yet blending together to form the perfect mixture of chaos and order. “The place Equestria, the time a future not so far removed from your own, and a journey into the question. What if?”

The narrator, dressed in a conservative black suit and holding a glass of chocolate milk in his hand takes a small sip causing the glass to slowly dissolve leaving behind the milk. Looking directly at you, the narrator blithely continues, “Meet Celestia, once a Princess of Equestria, now only a prisoner of war. An alicorn that could once set the course sun and command millions, yet now cannot free even herself from her own shackles.”

“Tinman, an HWS chosen to lead the armies of the World Government of Earth in their invasion of Equestria,” the narrator continues, looking at you with his yellow eyes that seem to pierce the depths of your soul. “An HWS, or Human Weapons System, is the most perfect weapon of war ever conceived of by man’s genius. A colossus of titanium, steel, and composite materials, the HWS is that which is called for when men wish to wage total war. Not just a machine, each HWS holds within it a braincase holding the mind of a human who willingly gave up their flesh to become instruments of destruction.”

“Tinman, the HWS in question,” the narrator says, speaking in steady even tones, “has been tasked with the responsibility of bringing the great monarch of the Equestrian nation to justice, for her supposed crimes against humanity. Whether her crimes are of ones of premeditation, recklessness, or just happenstance, they can only be answered here in the space between reality and fiction. The hidden realm hidden somewhere between mankind’s waking world and the land of his dreams, lying betwixt the pit of humanities greatest fears and summation of all their knowledge, crossing through the threshold of that hidden door which we call ‘The Twilight of our Outer Limits’.”

Author's notes:

Thank you for reading gentlereader my latest experiment in thought The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie. As always comments, critiques, and genteel conversation related to the story is always appreciated. If the content of the story offends you please post why you felt so. Additionally please refrain from attacking each other over minutia. You can disagree with each other without being disagreeable.

I thought a subversion of the 'The Conversion Bureau' setting might be an interesting way to wrap my mind around Tinman's before wading back into The Conversion Bureau: The Reluctant Cyborg, would help me remember how I wrote him previously. After rereading that story I realized I was in no condition to do it or you the proper justice it deserved without preparing my mind first. Therefore in that attempt I submit to you gentlereader, a little excursion into the realm of what if. Much like the television serials The Twilight Zone and the Outer Limits I took my inspiration for this story format from. I plan on using this story to explore how mankind might react if they discovered a way around the barrier slowly consuming the Earth, and that Equestria wasn't harmful to humans at all. Once again gentlereader thank you for patience with me, I hope that this little experiment is as fun for you to read as it is for me to write.

Chapter 1: Meet The Brilliant Dr. de Lancie

The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie

A Story by Talonmach5

Chapter 1: Meet The Brilliant Dr. de Lancie

It is melancholy to reflect that Mankind has suffered more from ill-judged philanthropy than from calculated malice. The road to Hell is no less harrowing for being paved with good intentions.
-Tell a Friend-Giles St. Aubyn, biography of King Edward VII

Turning towards you, the narrator strokes his crooked white goatee once, before taking another small sip from the glass in his hand leaving behind its chocolate contents. “Meet Dr. John de Lancie Ph.D.,” the narrator says. “Occupation, theoretical physicist. A man ahead of his time in search of the answer to a single problem. A man destined to forever change the course of two worlds and two hearts."

Theoretical physicist, Dr. John de Lancie was busy rechecking the latest calculations his A.I. supercomputer had been running for the past month. This A.I., one Norby was an oddity due to the circumstances of its manufacture. In traditional A.I. manufacturing the human brain is used as a template of sorts to create the framework from which to build the artificial neural pathways that an A.I. requires to operate. However Norby was not based off a human brain. On the contrary, he was based off an equine’s.

The equine in question was a pony named False Positive, a member of the joint Human Equestrian Science Society or H.E.S.S., based in New York City in the NAU. Originally an experiment in whether the equine mind could interface with human technology. The A.I. Norby turned out to be an expensive failure. While indeed proving that pony minds could indeed interface with human technology, the actual results seemed rather lack luster. A.I.’s based on the human mind follow their programming precisely. While Norby on the other hand, was only interested in following its own inane protocols. Having discovered that equine based A.I.’s were a dead end, the society was about to repurpose the super computer for another project before it was rescued from the scrap heap by the brilliant but eccentric physicist, Dr. de Lancie.

Dr. John de Lancie, an expert in the field of theoretical physics had for years been a proponent of using wormholes for interstellar travel. However until the advent of the singularity in the Pacific Ocean in 2081, no one had ever taken his theories as being anything more than being on the fringes of acceptable scientific research. Once the discovery of the barrier and Equestria had become public knowledge and his theories vindicated, he ran into a new problem. The great barrier. The barrier separating Equestria from the Earth was slowly expanding, and in a few short years would consume the planet. Unfortunately, the human body was incapable of withstanding the thaumaturgic radiation emanating from it. The fact that the combined efforts of human and equestrian scientists had developed a work around for the problem, gave the theoretical physicist little comfort. With the barrier slowly devouring the planet, there were scant few resources being spent on theoretical studies anymore.

“If only there was more time,” Dr. de Lancie muttered to himself, looking over at the scores of calculations and formulas that covered the numerous whiteboards on the walls of his office. Yes time, the one thing the doctor had very little of. While he was at least safe for another two years before being forced to ponify or relocate, the funding he was receiving for his research from the world corporations was perilously close to being cut off for good.

His assistant Floating Point, a light grey earth pony mathematician wearing her pale blonde mane in a bun poked her head into their shared work space, “Hey John,” she cheerfully said from behind her thick rimmed glasses. “They have fresh muffins from one of the conversion bureaus in the break room!”

While the thought of freshly baked muffins would usually set his stomach a growling, Dr. de Lancie was too engrossed in trying to break the riddle of the problem that had been eating away at him for the last three weeks. The problem was the classic conundrum, ‘How to connect two separate coordinates along the curvature of space time, without the ensuing entropy that usually accompanied the bending of space time’. The physicist was so close to solving the problem he could nearly taste it.

“John, did you want me to bring you one?” Floating Point asked, confused why her colleague was ignoring her.

“Uh, sure whatever,” John mumbled to himself, unwilling to take his eyes away from the problem staring him in the face.

Minutes later, Dr. de Lancie was startled when he felt Floating Point nudging his side. “Ah,” he yelped in surprise, causing the mare to throw the muffin she had brought for him into the air, landing on his desk and covering his work with pieces of buttery muffin.

Looking down at the mess covering his once pristine notes, the veins on Dr. de Lancie’s head started throbbing as he scowled murderously down at his assistant. Worried for her safety, Floating Point began slowly backing away from the enraged physicist. “Now John,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to calm him down. “There’s no need to do anything either of us will regret.”

Standing up and gathering his full height, the physicist took a deep breath and held it for about half a minute causing his face to turn a rather striking shade of burgundy before exhaling. “Floating Point,” he hissed, through his tightly clenched teeth, “perhaps it would be best if you were to leave early for the day.”

Floating Point nodded her head in relief, and began gathering her things to go home. “Sorry, Dr. de Lancie,” she said, picking up one of the papers that had fallen to the floor with her teeth.

Annoyed, Dr. de Lancie snatched the paper from his assistant’s mouth and scanned its contents. Slowly he switched his eyes from the paper in his hands, to the contents of the papers on his desk, and back once more to the paper he held in his shaking hands.

Concerned that her boss was having a seizure, she tried unsuccessfully to grab his attention by nudging her head against him. Unsure what to do, Floating Point was about to contact the front desk to call for a doctor when Dr. de Lancie let out a mighty whoop scaring her half to death.

“Aieee!” Floating Point shrieked in abject terror, frightened by her boss’s sudden outburst.

Rushing to Floating Point, Dr. de Lancie scooped up the confused pony in his arms and planted a wet kiss right on her muzzle. “You beautiful mare,” he exulted, staring deeply into her lavender eyes, “do you have any idea of what you’ve just done?”

“Uh,” Floating Point stammered, blushing profusely and feeling flustered over having been kissed by a human for the first time. She began wondering if she needed to consult the manual on sexual harassment in the workplace. “I’m not quite sure.”

“You just helped me solve the problem,” Dr. de Lancie said, placing her down on the floor.

“What problem was that?” she asked, not quite sure which problem he was referring to.

“The problem,” he shouted, scribbling furiously against the closest white board.

Floating Point’s eyes grew wide when she saw what the equations on the board represented. “You mean…” she said, scarcely able to believe what she just saw him write on the board.

“Yes,” Dr. de Lancie said wearing a grin as large as a Cheshire cat’s, tapping the marker against the whiteboard as he finished writing the large equation. “I just figured out how to create a wormhole stable enough to allow living matter to pass through it.”

*****

News of the discovery didn’t have the effect that Dr. John de Lancie and Floating Point thought it should. Although a wormhole stable enough for humans to use to travel through was the stuff of most sci-fi nerds’ wet dreams, once again time was the enemy. Time, he bitterly thought. It was always destroying his dreams of receiving accolades for his work. Although his funding was no longer in any danger of being cut off and in fact had even been significantly increased, the world corps hadn’t seen fit to give him additional personnel. Dr. de Lancie scowled in anger at their rejection notice for his latest proposal.

‘Dr. John de Lancie, We regret to inform you,’ the letter read. When he saw the regret to inform you part, he balled it up and threw it into the trash. Seeing her boss throw the letter into the garbage, Floating Point fished it out of the trash and began reading. “I’m sorry John,” she apologized, before he lifted his hand to silence his assistant. “But is having more pony help really that bad?”

Dr. de Lancie sighed in frustration. Floating Point couldn’t possibly know how badly he wanted more scientists. Well more human ones anyway. After all, the ponies weren’t in danger of having their whole world devoured. They could never know the true importance his work entailed. “Floating Point,” he said, turning to look back at the latest simulations he was running, “you’re an excellent assistant. But you’ll never have the same sense of urgency this work requires.”

Floating Point nodded politely as her boss lectured her as why he didn’t want more ponies helping him. Inwardly she seethed, ‘I’ll bet he doesn’t think ponies are as capable as humans,” she thought angrily to herself.

Scanning the letter, she saw something that piqued her interest, “John look,” she said, running to her stressed out colleague to give him the crumpled letter. Spitting out the paper into his hand she looked at him excitedly. “It says we can have access to the GHC in Los Alamos, New Mexico!”

The GHC, or Gargantuan Hadron Collider, was the former United States answer to the LHC in the EU. In typical American fashion they hated to be second place in any category, so they build the GHC. At nearly 56 kilometers in circumference and buried nearly a kilometer deep in the earth, the GHC is capable of operating at over 18 teraelectronvolts. The GHC its age notwithstanding was still top of the line as far as atom smashers went.

When he reread the letter and saw the time frames that had been scheduled for his experiments, he inwardly groaned. Although having the use of the GHC was a necessary step to achieving his goal of creating and maintaining a functioning wormhole, once again his age old nemesis raised its ugly head. Time. The physicist simply didn’t have enough of it to prepare for the required experiments properly.

“So when do we go?” Floating Point asked excitedly. Thinking about actually using the GHC in an experiment she would help design sent shivers of excitement running through her entire being. Say what you will about humanity, their technology was awesome! Experiments she could only ever have dreamed about performing at the university in Canterlot were an everyday occurrence thanks to the marvelous number crunching A.I. supercomputers they had made available to her.

Her scientific wet dreams of discovery were shattered when she heard Dr. de Lancie speak, “We can’t go,” he said, sighing in defeat. “We don’t have enough time to properly design and setup the experiments with the time slots they’ve provided for us to use.”

“What about Norby?” Floating Point asked, desperate to have her most likely one and only chance to use the GHC to repeatedly violate the laws of physics.

“What about Norby,” Dr. de Lancie irritably said, “it can’t be trusted to setup the experiments. It’s barely able to run the numbers without constant supervision.”

Floating Point wrinkled her nose in annoyance. Yes it was true that Norby had a slight issue with staying focused, perhaps if they offered the pony based A.I. some sort of incentive… “Maybe Norby might be willing to be more cooperative with us if he had the proper motivation?” she said suggestively from behind her glasses and wearing a coy smile.

Dr. de Lancie rolled in eyes at the ridiculousness of such an idea. “Floating Point,” he said, trying to be as patient with the mare as possible, “A.I.s aren’t anything like biological creatures. You can’t expect that something as base as sex to work on one.”

“Well maybe not human based A.I.s,” Floating Point defensively said. “But think about it. When Equestrians go into estrus their biological drive for sexual reproduction goes into overdrive. Perhaps we could convince Norby that the server cluster is a willing mare?”

Dr. John de Lancie Ph.D. wanted to laugh, but something about the idea had merit. Perhaps Floating Point did have a valid idea after all. Very little was known about equestrian based A.I.s after all, perhaps there wasn’t any harm in pursuing this academic exercise after all. “All right,” he said, looking at his assistant, “if you can somehow manage to convince Norby the server cluster is a mare in heat, we’ll proceed with the experiment as scheduled.”

“Yes!” Floating Point squealed with excitement. Inwardly singing to herself, she imagined the paper they would present to the Human Equestrian Science Society when they successfully created the first ever stable wormhole known to science. Now while magic was all well in good, only unicorns and the princesses could actually use it, leaving whole segments of equestrian society out in the cold. Now armed with humanity’s genius, the mare longed for the day where technology could supplant magic as the dominant power for progress for her people.

“So where are we going to find a mare in heat?” Dr. de Lancie asked his assistant pointedly.

“Erm…” Floating Point said, biting her lower lip nervously. “That is to say… Perhaps we could find a volunteer?”

“The intellectual requirements for A.I. are pretty stringent,” Dr. de Lancie pointed out. “Additionally, since we don’t have the specialized equipment to work with pegasi or unicorns, we would need a brilliant and willing earth pony mare to be in heat when we do the brain mapping.”

Floating Point laid her ears back and sighed in defeat. “It’s going to have to be me isn’t it?” she said, desperately hoping she was wrong.

“Just think of it as your little sacrifice to expand the realm of knowledge for science!” Dr. de Lancie said with a slight chuckle, as he sent their proposal to their department head.

“For science,” Floating Point said with much less enthusiasm. Growling inwardly to herself, she shook her head when she thought about how inconvenient this was going to be over the course of the next fourteen days. Hopefully she could control herself before she found herself impregnated by some stallion. “Okay I’ll do it, but I don’t want end up having foals as a result. I expect you to protect me from the stallions in the building.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about them,” Dr. de Lancie replied. “I just got a response from the department head. They want us to move down to Los Alamos in anticipation of the experiment working. If it succeeds we’ll be ready to run our experiment, otherwise we’ll still have an opportunity to run some alternate experiments.”

“Well that was fast…” Floating Point said, confused by how quickly the ponderous wheels of the bureaucracy were moving.

“Yes it is rather curious,” Dr. de Lancie mused, curious himself why the response was received almost immediately.

Only Norby the supercomputer remained silent as it continued crunching the numbers from the latest data sets it had received.

*****

Floating Point sat nervously in her seat, as the massive jetliner flew towards their destination. Nervously she eyed the case that sat between her and Dr. de Lancie containing the hormone injections that were guaranteed to put a mare into estrus. Inwardly she groaned as she thought about how difficult the next couple of weeks were going to be. Secretly she envied human women for not having an estrus cycle like hers. But on the other hoof, the possibility of getting pregnant at any time was also a downside.

Looking up at Dr. de Lancie, she wondered when the time came what kind of pony he would end up becoming. She wondered if he would find her at all attractive. Blushing at the thought of an interoffice romance with her ponified boss, she quickly hid her behind her hooves. Now romances between humans and equines were not unheard of, but most humans who became romantically entangled with a pony usually went to a conversion bureau. All too eager to trade in their amazing hands for a set of boring hooves. She often wondered if not for the barrier how relations between their two peoples might have been.

“Floating Point, is there something on your mind?” Dr. de Lancie asked her in curiosity. “Or do I have something on my face?”

“Oh no John,” Floating Point replied, her face flushing with embarrassment at having been caught staring at him. “I was just wondering how things might have been if the barrier wasn’t going to swallow the Earth.”

At hearing mention of that accursed barrier, Dr. de Lancie scowled. Once again he had to be reminded of that damn barrier, and what it represented. The end of his research, and pretty much everything else he cared about.

Seeing his mood change, Floating Point reached out her hoof to his dexterous hand. “John, don’t worry about the barrier,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “I’m sure things will work out in the end. Besides, even if you eventually have to become a pony, at least you’ll already have one friend.”

“Humph,” Dr. de Lancie grunted, not at all pleased that all he had to look forward to in Equestria if he failed was friendship. Seeing the hurt look in her eyes at the dismissal of her friendship, the physicist softened his scowl. “Look Floating point, I’m sorry,” he said, giving her hoof a gentle squeeze. “It’s just when I think of the barrier I feel so overwhelmed and helpless.”

“I understand,” Floating Point said, keeping her hoof inside his hand. “But I believe in your work, I know you’ll be successful.”

Somehow hearing her words of encouragement lifted the miasma of depression that had been clouding his mind these past few months. “Floating Point I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, looking through her glasses and into her lavender eyes, “why don’t you have any pictures of your boyfriend at your workstation? Most of the other mares I’ve seen working at H.E.S.S. usually have at least one picture of their spouse or significant other on their desk.”

“Oh I just haven’t found the right pony yet…” Floating Point replied, while the slight blush she wore on her cheeks grew.

“Well with all the humans becoming ponies lately,” Dr. de Lancie said, removing his warm hand from around her hoof, “finding someone suitable should be even easier now more than ever,”

Reluctantly moving her hooves away from his hand and back to her seat, Floating Point tapped them together lightly and sighed. “You’re probably right,” she longingly said. “Perhaps I already know the human and they haven’t been ponified yet.”

“Yes, imagine that,” Dr. de Lancie said with a chuckle, “you’ve already met and neither of you knows it yet.”

“Yeah, imagine that,” she replied, with a nervous laugh while looking up at her boss. “What about yourself. I’ve never ever heard you mention having somepony special in your life.”

“Science is the only mistress I’ll ever need,” Dr. de Lancie adamantly said.

“Nopony ever managed to capture your fancy then?” Floating Point asked with baited breath.

“Human women have never much interested me,” Dr. de Lancie admitted. “I’ve always found them a distraction to my work.”

“What about your colleagues?” Floating Point said, “I know there’s many single women still working at H.E.S.S., and even a few mares I know who wouldn’t mind having a human romance.”

“So how debilitating is estrus for equestrian mares?” Dr. de Lancie asked, carefully changing the subject back to work related matters. “Will you still be able to function and perform the necessary research?”

“It depends on the mare,” Floating Point replied, giving the case between the two of them a rueful look. “I think for simple tasks, I should be okay. But anything too complicated might be a bit much for me to manage.”

“Did you need anything special to help handle the urges?” Dr. de Lancie asked.

‘Yeah a stallion,” Floating Point thought ruefully before biting her tongue. “Uh no,” she said, masking her dread at her upcoming unavoidable predicament. “I’m sure with plenty of cold showers and a few breaks every so often will make it manageable.”

Looking out the window at the New Mexican desert far below them, she sighed resigning herself to her fate as they descended towards the Albuquerque airport. “For science,” she whispered.

*****

Floating Point was feeling miserable. They had decided to wait a full three days to ensure her mind was fully inundated with the flaring signals that she was a willing mare in desperate need of a stallion. Impatiently she played with the wire frame helmet sitting on her head. Fortunately they didn’t need to shave her mane in order to perform this procedure, she didn’t know what she would have done had that needed to happen. “Are you ready over there?” Dr. de Lancie asked, interrupting her thoughts about how lucky she was on not having to be the only bald mare on Earth.

“I’m ready,” Floating Point replied, feeling the heat from her body overpowering her. “All the systems are showing they're nominal.”

“Excellent,” Dr. de Lancie replied, cracking his knuckles loudly as he prepared initiating the procedure.

“Do I need to do anything besides stand here?” Floating Point asked.

“The bio chemist ponies I asked about this, suggested that you should actually be in mid coitus for maximum effect,” Dr. de Lancie said, typing away as his keyboard.

“What!” a mortified Floating Point shouted, “There’s no way in Tartarus I’m going to do that.”

“Somehow I thought that might be your reaction,” Dr. de Lancie replied, stifling a laugh of embarrassment. “Instead I decided we should try the next best thing, an erotic equestrian holorecording and some vigorous manual stimulation.”

Floating Point bit her lower lip in anticipation and embarrassment. After hemming and hawing for a few minutes she broke the awkward silence. “Fine John,” she said, her cheeks flushing crimson. “But nopony ever hears about this, and I get to present the scientific paper to H.E.S.S. if this works.”

Dr. de Lancie grimaced inwardly he’d wanted to present the paper! But thinking about how much his assistant was willing to go through with to ensure the success of his project, he decided that she did deserve at least a small bit of the credit. “Floating Point, you strike a hard bargain,” he said, nodding in agreement. “You can present the paper to H.E.S.S. for peer review, but my name is going to be listed as the primary author.”

Floating Point ground her teeth in frustration. “Academics are the same no matter the place,” she grumbled to herself, unhappy about how unfair it was that assistant’s never got their proper due.

“Fine it’s a deal,” she said, giving her boss a hard look. “I get listed as providing at least 49% of the attributing authorship, get to present the paper to H.E.S.S. for peer review, and your buying me a nice dinner.”

“All that and dinner too?” Dr. de Lancie asked, raising his right eyebrow. “What do you think this is a date?”

Looking at her boss, she gave the physicist a hard look, “I could say the exact same thing myself,” she replied.

“Fine, you’ve got yourself a deal,” Dr. de Lancie said, holding out his hand to seal the arrangement.

Gingerly, Floating Point reached her hoof forward, and felt a small tingle of excitement run through her when he shook it.

“So John, how’s this supposed to work?” Floating Point asked, confused at how the holorecorder was supposed to fit on her head.

Dr. de Lancie picked up the holorecorder and placed it gingerly around her ears. “Alright,” he said, activating the holorecorder. “Do you see the test pattern?”

“John, yes I do,” Floating Point said, amazed at the clarity of the 3D she was seeing.

“Floating Point, I’m going to activate the program shortly,” Dr. de Lancie said. “Once it starts playing, let me know when you’re feeling your arousal beginning to hit its peak. Then we can move on to the manual stimulation.”

“How exactly are you planning on doing that?” Floating Point asked from beneath the holorecorder, suddenly feeling nervous in the pit of her stomach. “Are you going to be using your hands on me?”

“No, of course not,” Dr. de Lancie replied, sounding slightly insulted at the idea. She heard him flick a switch then heard a muffled buzzing in the background. “I’m a professional scientist, so we’ll be using the proper tool for the job. In this case, I was advised a martial aid would probably work the best.”

“Oh of course John…” Floating Point said, flushing with embarrassment and a trying her best to hide her disappointment. “I didn’t mean to imply you would take advantage of the situation.”

“Floating Point, that’s alright,” Dr. de Lancie said, turning on the video feed. “Now just relax and let me know when you’re feeling the most aroused.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Floating Point watched a rather attractive stallion and mare engaging in carnal acts. Perspiring greatly, she felt herself beginning to feel light headed and hungry for some reason, which she found rather odd since she had just had breakfast less than an hour previously. As she licked her lips in anticipation, she felt her mouth water as she thirsted for something but didn’t know quite what.

The voice of Dr. de Lancie broke her immersion, as his hand pressed against her trembling flank, “How are you feeling now?” he asked in a clinical voice. “If you think your ready I’ll begin with the stimulation.”

Floating Point’s tail twitched in anticipation. “Oh yes,” she excitedly said, “I’m definitely ready.”

She heard the faint buzzing getting louder. Closing her eyes, Floating Point allowed herself to be carried away with these wonderful new sensations she was feeling. “Tell me when you think your Climax is going to occur,” Dr. de Lancie said.

“I’m close,” Floating Point loudly gasped, “so close. Begin the mapping now!”

Moments later, she felt the electric hum of the device on her head start scanning her brain. As she entered the throes of her climax, she lost herself to its pleasure and blacked out. After an indefinite period of time, she felt Dr. de Lancie’s wonderful hands gently shaking her awake.

“Floating Point are you alright?” Dr. de Lancie asked in concern, removing the scanning device from her head.

“Yes John…” Floating Point said through ragged breathes. “Just let me just catch my breath first. Did we manage to completely map my brain with the scanner?”

“Yes, I’m showing a successful full map,” Dr. de Lancie said. “However I’d like to have at least three complete maps before we commit one to a new A.I.”

“Does that mean we have to do this again?” Floating Point asked, looking at her boss hopefully through her half closed eyes.

“Yes, I’m afraid at least twice more,” Dr. de Lancie said. “I was thinking we should wait six hours and try mapping the second scan then.”

“Alright John,” Floating Point said, leaning against her boss slightly for support.

“Get some rest,” Dr. de Lancie said. “I’ll wake you up in about five hours.”

Floating Point nodded sleepily, before exiting the lab and heading towards her room.

*****

Floating Point worked at her console in silence as she ran the latest simulation to determine if the unreliable A.I. Norby had been following his directives. Amazingly enough he had been, and in fact his performance had even increased over what it had been previously. Normally this would have sent the mare into joyous celebration, but now ever since the brain mapping sessions had finished she felt self-conscious around her boss.

As a scientist she had always found everything about humanity fascinating, from their multitude of cultures, literature, technology, and especially the human form. Something about their hands made her feel jealous on a primitive level. Intellectually she knew that being a pony conferred with it certain advantages, especially if you were a pegasi or unicorn. But as an earth pony she was absolutely fascinated with hand and fingers. Every time she saw her boss’s hands fly down the keyboard typing over one hundred words a minute, it gave her a little thrill.

Secretly she felt she might have actually developed a small crush on the physicist, but had never had the courage to act on it. But now after having shared such intimate events together, she was finding it harder to concentrate on her assigned tasks without thinking about Dr. de Lancie and his lovely hands. Being stuck in estrus with no way of relieving herself wasn’t making things any easier for herself either. Sighing to herself, she reluctantly brought the latest test results to his desk.

Spying his assistant, Dr. de Lancie gave her a friendly smile and grabbed the test results from her mouth. After spending a minute reading them, he placed the results down and picked up Floating Point and hugged her. “Do you know what this means?” he excitedly asked.

“That A.I.s based on pony brains just needs sex to control their behavior?” Floating Point said, with a slight blush across her face.

“No,” Dr. de Lancie replied. “If this data is accurate, we’ll be able to perform all the needed experiments plus more.”

Floating Point had been so worked up over the brain mapping sessions from earlier that week that she hadn’t even bothered to read the results. The moment she heard the words pass his lips she forgot all about her worries and hugged him right back.

“So I was thinking Floating Point,” Dr. de Lancie said, putting his assistant down, “I still owe you that dinner from earlier…”

“Oh I’d love to go…” Floating Point said, before seeing her colleague’s reticence. “What I mean is, I’d be happy to join you for dinner once we’ve setup all the experiments for the GHC to run.”

Nodding in agreement, Dr. de Lancie, resumed working on his console oblivious to his assistant’s desires towards him.

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Floating Point said, lusting over the chance to finally play with the big toys. Thinking of her oblivious boss, she sighed, “I wonder if the idea of blowing stuff up turns him on as much as it does me.”

Just thinking about finally getting the chance to use the GHC made Floating Point feel weak in the knees. Feeling tempted to take a personal break to relive the burning hunger she was feeling, but resisted the temptation. As a respectable scientist she decided to wait until after she had inputted the simulations into Norby before acting on her lustful desires.

As always Norby remained silent and said nothing, instead it was content running the simulations in exchange for access to the A.I. they had affectionately named Perl.

*****

“Okay Floating Point, let’s start it off at 12 teraelectronvolts,” Dr. de Lancie said, checking his monitors.

“Affirmative John,” Floating Point said, adjusting the power accordingly. “We’re now at 12 teraelectronvolts and holding steady.”

“Alright increase power to 15 teraelectronvolts,” Dr. de Lancie commanded, staring breathlessly at the flashing displays of his monitors.

Floating Point carefully increased the power of the GHC as adrenaline built up in her body. Even during their brain mapping sessions, the high hadn’t been this intense. Being allowed to operate such powerful equipment filled the mare with such a quivering desire she could scarcely contain herself. “We’re now at 15 teraelectronvolts,” she said, checking her monitor’s readouts and making sure everything was in the green. “John, all readings are nominal.”

Dr. de Lancie began sweating bullets. This was now the most critical phase of the experiment. Even a single error at this stage could prove catastrophic. Once the GHC approached 17 teraelectronvolts, the right environment for forming a proto wormhole should be in place. “Alright, I want you to start increasing the power by gigaelectronvolts,” he said, not daring to remove his eyes from the displays in front of him. “Use your best judgment, if you think the experiment is starting to cascade, reduce power. I trust you Floating Point.”

When Floating Point heard the words, ‘I trust you’, from the one person she respected the most, her heart practically melted. “John I won’t let you down,” she said lacing her voice with determination.

Gradually she increased the power, doing everything in her power to ensure the experiment was a success. As far as Floating Point was concerned, nothing mattered more than this experiment. She was determined that Dr. de Lancie would have his wormhole even if it killed her. “We’re approaching 17 teraelectronvolts,” she tensely said, afraid to even breathe lest it disrupt the experiment.

As Dr. de Lancie stared unblinking at the data his monitors were feeding him, his eyes grew as wide as saucers. They were so close to the creation of a stable wormhole he could nearly taste it. “Floating Point, we’re almost there!” he shouted, “just 500 gigaelectronvolts more and we should start seeing some magic happening!”

Floating Point sat transfixed at her position on the console, inching the dials forward by millimeters and hoping against hope that the experiment would continue running smoothly. “John,” she said, we’re approaching 17.4 teraelectronvolts!”

Dr. de Lancie checked his instruments readings and could scarcely believe what he saw. A micro wormhole had just opened inside the particle beam of the GHC. “Lower the power!” he commanded.

Floating Point complied and lowered the power slightly, which should have caused the wormhole to collapse in on itself. Instead the wormhole stayed stable. “John you did it!” she shouted excitedly.

“No Floating Point, we both did it,” Dr. de Lancie replied, pausing to study the readings from the wormhole on his monitor. “Alright let’s resume increasing the power, and see if we can’t get it a bit larger.”

“John,” Floating Point said, feeling that now was as good as any for her to confess her attraction to him, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about what you said on the plane earlier.”

“Oh?” Dr. de Lancie replied, watching his monitors like a hawk.

“You were right about me having met the human and not realizing they were the one for me,” Floating Point said, looking tenderly at the man who had captured her heart.

“Whoa what’s this?” Dr. de Lancie said, as his monitors started flashing.

“I… I don’t know,” Floating Point replied, “I haven’t adjusted the power!”

“Shut it down!” Dr. de Lancie shouted.

“I can’t, a cascade failure is imminent!” Floating Point said, as the air around her began smelling of ozone.

“Floating Point!” Dr. de Lancie screamed, “Get out of here now!”

“Ahhh!” Floating Point screamed in terror, as the space around her began warping.

Dr. de Lancie rushed over to his assistant’s console and threw her out into the hallway just before a new wormhole formed sucking in the room’s atmosphere, and threatening to swallow the physicist whole. “Close the door and cut the power!” he screamed at her.

“John, grab ahold of my tail!” Floating Point shouted, digging her hooves into the carpet. “I’ll pull you to safety.”

Dr. de Lancie reached out but couldn’t quite grab it. “I can’t reach it,” he shouted, over the roar of the room’s atmosphere being vented into the wormhole.

Gulping once, Floating Point stretched herself out trying to give her boss the additional inches he needed to reach safety. “John, try it now!” she shouted over the screaming wind.

Once again Dr. de Lancie attempted grabbing hold of the tail in front of his face, but found he could only brush against it with his fingertips. “It’s no good Floating Point,” he shouted shaking his head. “Leave me and save yourself.”

“John, I won’t leave you!” Floating Point screamed, inching herself as close to the wormhole as she dared.

Dr. de Lancie saw his chance and grabbed ahold of the tail holding on for dear life. Feeling John’s grip on her tail, Floating Point started walking forward trying her best to save them from being swallowed by the certain doom the wormhole offered. Feeling his grip weakening he called out, “Floating Point, please hurry,” he said. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on for.”

“No John, I won’t lose you now!” Floating Point demanded, slowly crawling forward. “You will hold on! I can’t lose you, because I…”

Before Dr. de Lancie heard the rest of what she had to say, his grip on Floating Point’s tail loosened and flew he horrified into the event horizon of the waiting wormhole.

“No!” Floating Point cried, wetting her muzzle liberally with her tears. “We were supposed to submit the paper together.”

Looking sadly at the empty room behind her, the heartbroken mare made the final push to escape the ravenous appetite of the wormhole.

*****

Dr. John de Lancie felt the warmth of the sun shining overhead. Opening his eyes he was surprised to discover that he wasn’t dead, but instead was alive and breathing. Taking a closer look at his surroundings, he discovered he was in a lightly wooded area. All around him the boughs of the trees swayed back and forth as a gentle breeze blew past. Looking down, he discovered that he was on a dirt path that lead towards a wooden shack. Turning around, he saw the wormhole was still open. Deciding by the look of his surroundings, the cleanliness of the environment notwithstanding, he must be somewhere on Earth. Walking towards the shack, he was shocked when he saw an elderly light blue earth pony walking up to greet him.

“Well hello sonny,” the earth pony said, hobbling forward to meet his new guest. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“I’m sorry to be a bother,” Dr. de Lancie said, “but could I borrow your phone?”

“Phone?” the earth pony replied, scratching his bald head in confusion. “What sort of newfangled device is that? Sounds like something the unicorns in Canterlot might cook up.”

While ponies being unfamiliar with Earth technology wasn’t uncommon, as far as Dr. de Lancie was aware all visiting ponies were given a primer on at least the basics. Deciding that maybe his host’s age was the issue h asked, “If you don’t have a telephone, could you at least point me towards the closest city?”

“Certainly sonny,” the aged equestrian said, pointing a hoof towards a mountain behind him. “The Canterlot train stop is a good forty minute trot away if you follow this path here.”

Looking up at the mountain Dr. de Lancie saw it clear as day, the home of Princess Celestia and the capital of Equestria itself, Canterlot. “Are you saying that’s actually Canterlot the capital of Equestria?” he asked, not quite believing that he was in Equestria and not dead yet from the environments deadly thaumaturgic radiation.

“Sure as the sun shining overhead is raised by Princess Celestia every morning,” the earth pony said. “Sonny where did you say you came from again? I’ve never seen anypony like you before.”

“I’m originally from Manhattan myself,” Dr. de Lancie said.

“Oh Manehattan!” the ancient pony exclaimed. “Well that explains everything then. Manehattan always did have all sorts of odd folks living there.”

“You definitely could say that,” Dr. de Lancie remarked, as he started piecing together the mystery behind why he wasn’t dead yet, but still alive here in Equestria. The more he thought about it, the only theory he could come up with was that Equestria wasn’t toxic to humans in the slightest.

“Well youngin,” the elderly pony said, hobbling down the path, “I’ll wish you good luck. Hope that you reach wherever it is that you’re headed.”

Looking back up at Canterlot and realizing what it meant. Dr. de Lancie ran back towards the wormhole as fast as he could, in hopes of reaching the safety of Earth before anyone else discovered his presence. Spying the still open entrance to the wormhole, he leapt into it leaving Equestria behind him.

*****

Dr. John de Lancie found himself on the lab floor of the GHC, nursing a massive headache and being tightly hugged by someone whose face was wet with tears.

"Oh John, I thought you were dead!” Floating Point cried. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to save you.”

Dr. de Lancie looked down at his sobbing assistant, gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, and returned her embrace. “It’s alright Floating Point,” he said, getting up from the floor. “Were you able to at least save the experiment’s data?”

Wiping the tears away from her muzzle, Floating Point gestured towards the monitors showing that Norby still had an active link with the G.H.C.’s mainframes. “I think he’s got everything,” she replied.

“Oh thank god,” Dr. de Lancie said, relieved that their work hadn’t been lost. “Floating Point, I want you to disconnect Norby from the GHC system and begin compiling the data.”

“Okay John,” Floating Point said, beginning the process of disengaging the link that the A.I. had with the local computers of the GHC. “What are you going to do?”

“I have to make a call,” Dr. de Lancie said, giving his assistant an affectionate pat on the mane before exiting the room.

Dr. de Lancie, walked down the hall towards his room, and entered the small bathroom attached to it. Turning on the faucets, he splashed some cold water onto his face. “Oh god, should I tell Them what I know?” he murmured to himself.

The ‘Them’ in this circumstance was none other than the science council of the World Government. It had been setup to collect any new technologies that might overcome the current peril posed by the barrier that was greedily devouring the entire planet. The reasons for his hesitancy were none other than what he feared that the final outcome of their possession of such knowledge might be. Although he’d resented what the appearance of Equestria had represented to him, namely an end to his academic career. He still didn’t want to have any harm come to the ponies that he’d grown close to over the past eighteen months, especially Floating Point. The earth pony mare had somehow wormed her way into his heart. He found he enjoyed their time together, and would hate losing her companionship if their worlds went to war.

But he had a responsibility to his species as well. The Equestrian government had lied to everyone about the true nature of Equestria. Not that he could fault them for it, what humanity could do to the technologically inferior equestrians would make what the age of colonization had done to the western hemisphere and most of Asia look like a tea party in comparison.

As Dr. de Lancie sat contemplating what he should do, he felt the gentle nudge of his assistant Floating Point’s head against his leg. “John,” she said, giving him a warm smile, “Norby’s begun the compilation process. It should take him another eighteen hours to finish.”

“Listen, Dr. de Lancie said, “about what happened earlier…”

“No John,” Floating Point said, looking up at him, “I need to tell you something, before I lose my nerve.”

“Floating Point, I’m listening,” Dr. de Lancie said, sitting down on his bed and motioning for her to sit down beside him. “What’s on your mind, something unexpected regarding the data?”

“No,” Floating Point said, her mind desperately trying to say the words her heart was too afraid to say. “John, when I thought I’d lost you today my world ended. It took losing you to make me realize how important you were to me.”

“Floating Point I…” Dr. de Lancie said, before being interrupted by her placing a heartfelt kiss on his mouth.

To say John de Lancie was surprised would be an understatement. Feeling Floating Point’s passion and desire for him, made his resistance slowly erode before he finally gave in and returned her kiss with his own. Wrapping his arms around the mare he gave her a loving embrace.

Floating Point sighed with relief as she felt the object of her desires returning her affections. Breaking their kiss she looked up at her colleague with hope in her eyes. “John, I know you probably don’t find mares as attractive as human women,” she said, steeling herself to confess her desires. “But I Love you, and if you’re willing to give me a chance I know I could make you happy.”

Dr. de Lancie didn’t know how to respond. On one hand she was of a totally different species, but on the other hand she was an intelligent being, with a wonderful personality, and most importantly of all was as wild about theoretical physics as he was. Thinking back to all the science fiction he had read as a teenager, he thought back to all the green skinned alien women the protagonists always seemed to get. As odd as the idea of being with a pony physically might seem on the surface, perhaps they could treat this all like an experiment. After all they had already spent several intimate moments together.

“Alright Floating Point,” Dr. de Lancie said, looking down at the vulnerable mare who had opened her heart to him. “I’m willing to give us a chance. How would you like to proceed?”

“Perhaps we could resume the experiment from earlier?” Floating Point said, looking down at her hooves nervously. “Maybe you could use your hands instead.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dr. de Lancie asked. “We could wait until after your estrus ends, to make sure this is something you actually want.”

“No John, I’m sure,” Floating Point said, looking up at him with determination. “If today taught me anything, tomorrow might never come.

Reaching her head up towards him, Floating Point closed her eyes and waited expectantly for him to kiss her.

Running his fingers down the silken coat of her neck, Dr. de Lancie kissed his assistant and responding to her gentle moans of pleasure. Continuing to run his hands down the length of her body, he stopped and rested his hand on her cutie mark. It was a copy of the equation for Newton’s second law, F=ma. Running his fingers gently over it, Floating Point shivered with anticipation and moaned appreciatively into his mouth. The closer his fingers drew towards the center of her desire, the more passionately she responded. He could feel her heart beating in time with his as they reached the culmination of what they had started over a year ago when they first met and the seed of their attraction was planted.

*****

Many hours later, he woke up next to his assistant’s prone form. Floating Point wore a look of pure bliss on her face as she continued sleeping peacefully. Dr. de Lancie gave her a small kiss on the top of her head, and walked out to the lab where Norby was stored. Looking at the control console, he knew it would be a simple matter to make all evidence of what he’d seen disappear forever. No one but himself knew the truth. As his fingers flew across the keyboard to setup the kill command to delete all the stored data, all he had to do was press a single key and Floating Point would be safe from the fall out that would surely follow if his discovery was reported. Thinking about ponification and knowing that he could still have her even as pony made the hard choice a little easier to make as he pressed ‘Y’, deleting all the stored data on Norby.

With the weight of holding the fate of Equestria in his hands lifted from his shoulders, Dr. de Lancie returned to his room and gave the mare he loved a tender kiss on the cheek before returning to sleep.

*****

Hours later he was woken up by frantic shouting as Floating Point violently shook him awake. “John I’m so sorry!” she cried, staining her fur with tears of regret. “Everything, all the data is gone. I’m so sorry. I thought I’d transferred everything to Norby.”

Dr. de Lancie held the hysterical mare, and gently caressed her neck. “Floating Point It’s alright,” he said. “I don’t even care about it anymore.”

“But your life’s work!” Floating Point objected. “You’ve spent nearly twenty years trying to prove stable wormholes can be created, and now that you have you accomplished the unbelievable you have no way of proving it.”

“It’s alright,” Dr. de Lancie said, stroking her mane comfortingly. “If I had to choose between what we shared last night and the data, I would choose you every single time.”

“Really?” Floating Point asked, looking up at him with love and wonder.

“Yes,” Dr. de Lancie said, giving his assistant a small kiss on her nose. “The wormhole wouldn’t have been of much use anyway. The only other place we know of with a habitable atmosphere is Equestria, and that’s toxic to humans.”

“Oh John,” Floating Point said excitedly, “I just remembered, I actually sent a data stream to the data cluster back at H.E.S.S. when I uploaded it to Norby. Isn’t it wonderful? Now the culmination of your life’s work can be recognized!”

“No… no… no!” Dr. de Lancie shouted, at the ceiling. “You were supposed to be safe! You were supposed to be safe.”

“Who John? Who’s supposed to be safe?” Floating Point asked, feeling a bit frightened by his sudden outburst.

Grasping Floating Point tightly, he held her face close to his, “I’m so sorry. I truly am,” he whispered.

“Sorry for what?” Floating Point asked, not quite sure what the physicist had to be sorry for.

Saying nothing, Dr. de Lancie left Floating Point’s side to make the call he dreaded.

“Tell me please!” Floating Point shouted desperately, not understanding why the survival of the data bothered him so much. She thought he would have been overjoyed.

When Dr. de Lancie returned, his eyes were as red as hers. “Did… did I do something wrong?” Floating Point asked, looking up at the man she loved with the fear of being rejected being reflected in her large lavender eyes.

“No…” Dr. de Lancie numbly replied. “The fault lies with me.”

“John, would you please hold me?” Floating Point asked, desperate for comfort and reassurance of his love.

Without saying another word, Dr. de Lancie scooped up the pony, kissed her hooves gently, and held her in his arms. “Floating Point,” he said, at peace with himself, “I was thinking about what you said last night, how there might not be a tomorrow. I want to spend today with you as if there was no tomorrow.”

Leaning upwards to kiss him, Floating Point nodded her head. “As long as it’s with you, I’ll be happy to spend every day from now on as if there was no tomorrow.”

Returning her kiss, Dr. de Lancie smiled. “That is all I could ever hope for,” he replied, holding her tightly. For he knew that for them tomorrow most likely would never come.

*****

Elsewhere in another world entirely, she tossed restlessly in her bed. Premonitions of the world burning plagued her dreams. Ever since their two worlds began merging, she worried about what might happen if they somehow managed to bypass the barrier. Never before had she met a species so well equipped to take whatever they wanted with impunity. She could only hope the barrier held until they had all accepted the gift of ponification. She truly pitied them, all alone in the world with nopony to guide them gently towards peace and prosperity. When their two worlds began merging, she nearly gave into the fear that they would overpower her little ponies, and bring the ills that plagued their world to hers. But at the same time she couldn’t sit back and watch an entire species end through no fault of their own.

In compassion, she ordered her top scientists to work with the newcomers to order to discover a beneficial solution for all. While some might say that the final solution was a bit radical, none could argue with the results. Humans turned to ponies, which they dubbed newfoals. To her delight, these newfoals were indistinguishable from native born equestrians. She hoped that the influx of the former humans into her world would solve the two great problems her people faced, the first being the technological stagnation that seemed to grip her nation. The second, strengthening their gene pool with billions of new ponies.

Granted it wasn’t a perfect solution that would please everypony, but it was the best she could offer given the circumstances. By melting both populations into one harmonious whole, everypony would be changed for the better. Her ponies would gain a newfound drive to innovate and explore, thanks to the humans inherent need to invent and learn. Meanwhile the humans would receive a new home and a more equitable way of living, away from the harmful influences of their world government that was ran by the elite, and only for the elite’s benefit.

Every time she thought about how such a thing could have ever come to pass, made her want to weep. It was almost as if humanity had conspired against itself over the centuries to ensure that the creation of something so vile would become reality. In its own way it was almost inevitable. Humanity, without somepony like her to ensure that those in power didn’t take advantage of their stations, was bound to be enslaved to the ruling classes’ greed sooner or later. She could only be thankful that such a thing could never happen here. She had even banished her own sister to the moon, rather than subject her little ponies from her tyranny. Knowing that Equestria and all its inhabitants were safely protected by the barrier, she laid her head back down to sleep unaware of how her premonitions were about to become reality.

*****

“Dr. John de Lancie and Floating Point,” an overweight bureaucrat said, from behind the large conference table in the middle of the room, “I’d like to thank you for presenting your findings to us regarding the wormhole. Do you think it could be generated outside the GHC?”

Floating Point walked forward and flashed a dazzling smile at the human. “Yes,” she said, changing the projected image to one showing several three dimensional models and graphs of the energy cascade that had created the worm hole that had swallowed Dr. de Lancie. “As you can see here in figure 4b, the wave harmonics that actually created the wormhole in the lab shouldn’t be too difficult to reproduce with the proper equipment.”

“What about the frequency found on figure 12c?” a rail thin human with thinning grey hair and a hooked nose asked. “It almost perfectly matches the thaumaturgic radiation of the barrier, doesn’t it?"

“Well that certainly is interesting…” Floating Point said, before being interrupted by Dr. de Lancie.

“What Floating Point means to say,” Dr. de Lancie said, “is it’s still too early to tell what exactly the significance that specific strata of the background radiation might indicate.”

Floating Point shot her lover a dirty look, before smiling sweetly at the rest of the board directors of H.E.S.S. She didn’t appreciate being interrupted in front of such important people, and being treated like a foal still in grad school. “While the radiation does seem to match the waveform of the barrier,” she said, pointing to figure 22d. “We don’t have enough information to draw any sort of correlation between the two, well at least not without a significant increase in our budget and manpower.”

When the H.E.S.S. board members heard Floating Point’s little barb regarding their funding, they broke into laughter. Once the laughter had died down, the Director of H.E.S.S. an elderly man with wisps of white hair and spectacles pointed a bony finger at Dr. de Lancie. “There’s still the issue of what happened to you after you passed the event horizon of the wormhole,” he said narrowing his eyes. “The data indicated you were gone for nearly fifteen minutes, yet you claim no recollection of the time you spent inside it. How do you explain that?”

Floating Point looked at Dr. de Lancie and waited to hear his answer. She never really believed the same excuse he gave her every time she asked what it was like on the other side. Her mare’s intuition told her that he was hiding something, she was sure of it.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. de Lancie apologized, giving his assistant a warm smile. “I have no recollection of what happened. The last thing I remembered happening was losing my grip on Floating Point’s tail, and then waking up with her above me.”

“Are you sure you’re not telling us everything?” the elderly man asked, giving the physicist a hard look.

Looking down at the pony at his side, Dr. de Lancie smiled. What he had with Floating Point he wouldn’t risk losing, he’d continue concealing the truth to protect her. “I’m sorry I can’t recall what happened. I’m just glad I survived the ordeal,” he said. “I think until we have a better understanding of the wormhole phenomenon, we should take a cautious approach.”

“I disagree,” Floating Point said. She knew something had deeply affected him inside the wormhole, and she wanted him to stop running from it. “We know because Dr. de Lancie was able to survive passing through the event horizon unprotected, that wormholes can potentially be used safely. This is humanities best chance for survival outside of ponification.”

“You’ll have to forgive my assistant’s excitement,” Dr. de Lancie said. “She gets rather excited about particle physics I’m afraid. We should consider the ramifications before announcing this. Currently ponification is the only proven means of man’s survival. I think it’s premature to announce this to the public.”

“People have a right to know the truth,” Floating Point argued. “They aren’t children needing protection from reality. H.E.S.S. should announce the discovery. It might lessen the tension and resentment among some of the population, especially among members of the HLF”

“Dr. de Lancie and Floating Point, thank you for your preliminary findings,” the Director of H.E.S.S. said. “We’ll give you our answer regarding your findings tomorrow.”

“Thank you director,” Dr. de Lancie said, terrified that he might discover the truth of where the wormhole had led. “My assistant and I look forward to hearing your decision.”

“And also the opportunity to present our findings regarding equine A.I.s next week,” Floating Point added.

“We certainly look forward to your presentation,” the fat bureaucrat replied.

Exiting the conference room, Floating Point shot Dr. de Lancie an angry look. “John, what the buck was that all about!” she hissed. “I’ve never been more embarrassed in my academic career. I didn’t appreciate being treated like some brainless know nothing…”

Floating Point’s tirade was silenced by Dr. de Lancie placing a gentle kiss on her muzzle. “Did I ever tell you I love you?” he asked.

Flustered and blushing by her man using such an underhanded tactic to disarm her, Floating Point turned her head away from him and stuck her nose in the air. “John, don’t think I’m still not upset with you. Because I totally am, and it’s going to take quite a bit of groveling to get back in my good graces.”

Dr. de Lancie said nothing, instead opting to place another kiss on her muzzle making her blush even further. “Let me buy you some lunch,” he said.

“Lunch is a very good start,” Floating Point replied, laying her head against his side. Ever since they had returned from the GHC in Los Alamos, everypony had noticed the sudden change in their relationship’s dynamic. Pony human romances weren’t unheard of but were uncommon enough to raise some eyebrows, especially here at H.E.S.S. She was disappointed to find many of her fellow equines were giving her such a hard time over it. She could handle the good natured ribbing and teasing she got from a lot of her friends, but the outright hostility she received from someponies was quite another.

Brass Tacks the unicorn overseer of all the ponies assigned to H.E.S.S., gave her a scowl when he saw her being overly affectionate with Dr. de Lancie. She didn’t know if it was because he found the thought of ponies and humans being together revolting, or because he felt that humans should become ponies as quickly as possible. But whatever the reason for his dislike of their relationship, she found his bigotry unpleasant.

Seeing the disagreeable black stallion approaching their table in the cafeteria, made Floating Point completely lose her appetite as she prepared for the worst. “John can we finish lunch elsewhere?” she asked, hoping to avoid a confrontation.

Dr. de Lancie oblivious to the subtle cues ponies gave through their body language, smiled at Brass Tacks as he approached their table. “Oh in a minute Floating Point,” he said. “Brass Tacks I just wanted to say I really enjoyed your presentation on the effects of thaumaturgic radiation on the human genome yesterday.”

“I didn’t take you as one with an appreciation for the magical disciplines,” Brass Tacks replied, tilting his ears back in dismissal of the human’s opinion. “I find most humans don’t have the intellectual capacity to appreciate it, well not until they’ve joined the herd so to speak.”

“I was wondering if any research had ever been given into what might happen to human tissue if it ever entered Equestria proper,” Dr. de Lancie said.

Brass Tacks pulled back his lips showing his teeth in disgust at the idea of a human polluting his homeland with their taint. Not that I’m aware of,” he said, tiling his head slightly to show how much he disapproved of a human and pony being together. “With the barrier in place, no such study could be possible. But since Equestria and the barrier share a similar thaumaturgic waveform, it’s most likely that Equestria beyond the barrier is just as deadly to humans. Thank Celestia, for small favors!”

“Well it’s been a real pleasure as always Brass Tacks,” Floating Point replied, tilting her ears slightly forward and flicking her tail showing that she had claimed Dr. de Lancie as her lover and to back off.

“Word of advice human,” Brass Tack said, walking away from the table and lifting his head slightly to the right indicating a rather rude gesture. “Mares can be quite a handful if you don’t know how to keep them in line.”

“What was that all about?” Dr. de Lancie said, confused by the sudden hostility between Floating Point and Brass Tacks.

“Oh nothing,” Floating Point replied, laying her chin against the table.

As they took their trays back towards the trash receptacles, Floating Point looked up at Dr. de Lancie. “So John…” she drawled, using her front right hoof to scratch the back of her left front leg.

“Yes Floating Point,” he said, looking down at her questioningly. “What did you want to ask me?”

“John, what are you hiding from everypony, from me?” she asked, giving him a look that demanded answers. “Why are you jeopardizing everything you’ve worked for your whole life just to keep it secret?”

“Floating Point, some things are more important…” Dr. de Lancie said. “That night after we we’re first together I had an epiphany.”

Being reminded of their first time together made Floating Point blush, “About what specifically John?” she asked, hoping to coax the secret out of him.

“About you, about me, about us,” Dr. de Lancie replied. “I decided that if I had to choose between you and fame, I’d rather have you.”

Taking aback by her lover’s sentiment, Floating Point pressed her head against his hand. “John, you sure know how to flatter a mare,” she said, giving him a sultry look. “But why can’t you have both the girl and the fame?”

“Because if I have one I’ll lose the other,” Dr. de Lancie replied.

“John, please tell me…” Floating Point begged. “I have to know what it is.”

“I don’t dare tell anyone,” Dr. de Lancie said, trembling under the weight of what he knew.

“John, if you ever loved me, tell me!” Floating Point pouted. “I promise we’ll get through it together!”

Unable to bear the terrible secret alone any further, Dr. de Lancie knelt down and whispered four words into her ear. “Oh sweet Celestia!” Floating Point gasped, finally realizing the implications of what the wormhole represented. “What are we going to do?”

“What do you mean, what are you going to do? You’re going to do exactly as we tell you to,” the voice of the director of H.E.S.S. said, walking around the corner accompanied by six heavily armed members of the PMC that guarded the building. Holding in his hand he held several blurry pictures of Canterlot recovered from the wormhole data. Pressing a button on a recording device in his hand, they heard the voice of Dr. de Lancie say, “I went to Equestria…”

“Floating Point,” the director said, “thank you for helping us uncover the truth. As promised, I’ll ensure you’ll have all the resources you need to continue your project.”

Dr. de Lancie couldn’t believe it, Floating Point had betrayed him. “How could you do this to me?” he asked her, heartbroken and angry.

“John I did it for you,” Floating Point said, crying with shame over what she had just done. “They told me they were going to take the project away from you entirely if I didn’t get you to say what really happened.”

Dr. de Lancie said nothing covering his face with his hands. “They’ll destroy it, I know it…” he moaned into his palms.

The lead mercenary lowered his weapon at him. “Dr. de Lancie,” he said. “You’re under arrest for conspiring against humanity.”

“What!” Floating Point cried out in disbelief. “But John didn’t do anything!”

“He’s a traitor to the human race, and withheld information vital to the survival of humanity,” the director coldly replied.

“You’ll never get away with this!” Floating Point shouted. “When the Equestrian Embassy hears about this I’ll guarantee you’ll be forced to step down.”

The director nodded once to one the mercenaries, and they approached Floating Point menacingly. “Incidentally Floating Point, I’m afraid you know too much,” he replied, before addressing the mercenaries. “Don’t hurt her too badly, we need her alive to control Dr. de Lancie.”

“What about the rest of the equestrians in the building?” the lead mercenary asked.

“Once matters have been settled here,” the director said, “initiate the protocols for a bomb threat, and then put the building under lock down.”

“Affirmative sir,” the mercenary said, before giving the frightened earth pony a cruel smile.

As the Director of H.E.S.S. walked away, he smiled when he heard the screams of terror and the heavy thuds of plasteel against flesh and bone followed by several thuds as their unconscious bodies fell to the ground. Entering his office the director sat down behind his large desk and activated his secured terminal. In front of him, the holographic images of several shadowy figures appeared. “We have confirmation,” he said.

“Have you secured the asset?” one of the shadowy men asked.

“Mr. Black, It’s in the process of being secured now,” the director explained.

“Do any of them suspect?” another concealed figure asked.

“Mr. White, Dr. de Lancie told only one other and she’s being held as well,” the director said.

“Good, then we can initiate Operation Megiddo,” Mr. Black said. “Celestia and the Equestrian nation will pay the price for withholding such vital information from us.”

“I urge caution,” Mr. White said, “so far their power has been benign towards us. If the operation fails we face extinction.”

“We already face extinction thanks to the barrier,” Mr. Black retorted.

“Mr. Black what if they didn’t know?” a third shadow pointed out. “Perhaps negotiating first would be more prudent. There’s no reason to resort to violence as our first course of action, and we always have Operation Megiddo to fall back on if diplomacy fails.”

“No Mr. Green, we are proceeding with Operation Megiddo,” Mr. Black said with a tone of finality.

“What about manpower, do you plan to conscript an army?” Mr. Green objected. “There are fewer than five million combat ready personnel on the planet, and we need them on Earth to keep the masses in line.”

“There are nearly three million HWS’s in active service or in mothballs, available for the expeditionary force,” Mr. Black said. “Unlike mercenaries they don’t have the luxury of saying no.”

“And who will you send, to lead your army,” the Mr. Green retorted. “No one living has the combat experience to lead such a massive campaign with a reasonable chance of victory. A war of this type hasn’t been fought since before the fall of the United States.”

“We’ll send the god of war,” Mr. White said. “He has an impressive service record, and he’s greatly respected among his fellow HWS’s.”

“I hope you see the flaw in your logic in sending an HWS to lead other HWS’s,” Mr. Green pointed out. “Without human commanders to compel them to fight, what’s to prevent them from turning rogue or even joining the equestrians against us?”

“We’ll be sending a small officer corps to ensure the HWS’s stay on our leash, as well as a large number of volunteers.”

“Volunteers?” Mr. Green asked, unsure if he really wanted to know.

“Yes,” Mr. White replied. “We’ve been in contact with the entirety of the HLF’s leadership regarding Operation Megiddo. I’ve been assured they will be lending us a sizable contribution of manpower to assist in upcoming campaign.”

“I object to this,” Mr. Green said. “An invasion of this magnitude is totally unnecessary.”

“Are you naive, blind, stupid, or just a pony sympathizer?” Mr. White hissed. “They invaded us first, and every hour they steal more of our world from us. They’re lucky we just don’t go there and kill the whole lot of them in retaliation!”

“So we’re in agreement then?” Mr. Black asked.

“Yes,” Mr. White said.

“I’m refusing to be party to this massacre,” Mr. Green said.

“Fine, we’ll leave the management of the ponies trapped here on Earth in your hands,” Mr. Black replied. “Before this council ends, let me remind each of you that whoever speaks of this outside the council will face the full wrath of the World Government.”

“Agreed,” the Director of H.E.S.S., Mr. White, and Mr. Green said in unison.

“Send word when preparations for Operation Megiddo are complete,” Mr. Black commanded the Director of H.E.S.S.

“Of course,” the director said before disconnecting the conference call.

*****

Floating Point looked up from her prison cell, and looked over towards the one person she cared for more than anything else, Dr. John de Lancie. “John, please forgive me!” she begged, towards his cell. “I didn’t know. I just wanted to help you fulfill your dreams.”

Dr. de Lancie refused to answer her heartfelt pleas. Instead he shot the mare a cold look before turning his back to her.

“The path to ruin, destination unknown…” the narrator says, gesturing towards the weeping mare, “is often paved with good intentions. However, much like Floating Point, we usually find out too late that its final destination is one we’d prefer to avoid. The careful traveler should remember that as they journey on the unfamiliar highways of “The Twilight of our Outer Limits.”

Authors Notes:

Thank you gentlereader for reading Chapter 1: Meet The Brilliant Dr. de Lancie of The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie. As always your comments, critiques, and discussion relevant to the story is always welcome.

My apologies for two things. First I never intended to add sex to the story but Floating Point just had to be uncooperative. Second for Tinman not making an appearance this chapter. He was only mentioned in name, but I plan on rectifying the lack of robot action with kung fu grip in the next chapter. Now I know you're gonna say what's up with all the romance, didn't you say last time you wouldn't write that sort of dreck. The story got a bit out of hand, but I think in the end it setup the how humans actually managed to enter Equestria rather nicely. Once again I apologize if the sex scene wasn't to your liking. I don't anticipating writing any more in future chapters. But judging by how easily clop seems to get views etc, perhaps I might revisit my stance against writing erotica in the future.

I think the dynamic of Dr. de Lancie and Floating Point is rather interesting. The good doctor did all in his power to protect her from the truth, and she undermined him in order to make his dream come true dooming her people in the process. It's kind of like the story: The Gift of the Magi, but with giant killer robots and inter-dimensional war instead of pocket watches and hair brushes. The author wonders if Floating Points breach of trust against Dr. de Lancie has forever earned her his enmity, or if there might possibly be hope in the future for these star crossed lovers?

Regarding the Shadow Council, I know some readers might be saying hey humanity wouldn't behave like this! I would gently remind them that as an apex predator man bends the knee to no one. A government that would run a global war racket would have no compunctions against invading Equestria for resources or even petty revenge. But I wonder who the mysterious Mr. Green might be? Perhaps even among the elite there are some that still have a shred of conscience still left. But the author personally agrees with Celestia regarding the current state of affairs, at least regarding to the government humanity is being forced to endure under.

I wonder what sort of blow back the Shadow Council will receive once they send every last HWS into Equestria with only a handful of fleshbags to reign them in. Will Tinman heel like an obedient lapdog for his corporate masters, or will he cry out Viva la Robolution! But seeing as he hates those dirty hippies and red commie bastards, we'll have to wait and see.

Well once again for thanks for reading gentlereader. Until next time!

P.S. What did you think of the cover art? see if you can spot all the easter eggs.

Chapter 2: Tinman, the God of War

The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie

A Story by Talonmach5

Chapter 2: Tinman, the God of War

“Machines are worshiped because they are beautiful, and valued because they confer power; they are hated because they are hideous, and loathed because they impose slavery.”
- Bertrand Russell

“What you’re looking at is an echo of the past,” the narrator says, walking through a spacious and well-lit, but otherwise empty hangar. “Once humming with activity but now stilled by neglect. Its only caretaker’s machines that tirelessly tend to its maintenance. This place, Halliburton’s HWS factory, in Virginia Beach, Virginia of the NAU, was once the birthplace of titans of war. Now it’s merely an empty mausoleum to those machines who once called it home.”

Looking towards you the narrator smiles before placing a pipe in his mouth. “Maintenance bay 94. Population one,” the he says, blowing bubbles from the pipe. “His designation, Tinman. His type, a Land Behemoth mark VI frame. Recent history, recently returned from an assignment in North Africa. Incidental data, has just found out he’s been made obsolete. Not by next year’s model, but by the one enemy he was destined to never defeat. Peace.”

The machine towered over the man, looking as imposing as possible. Most man might have been afraid for his life, but Edmund Price, C.T.O. of Halliburton wasn’t most men. Escorted by an entire squadron of the company’s elite military police, the C.T.O. had little to fear from the technological terror. No one was foolish enough to cross him, no one except Tinman that is.

“… surrender your weapons...” Edmund said, fully expecting that the HWS would follow his orders.

“I think you better check my contract again,” the massive machine rumbled defiantly, at the man standing beneath its massive shadow.

As a member of the elite, Edmund Price was unaccustomed to being told no. He found hearing what he considered company property refusing to obey his commands, extremely vexing. As the Chief Technology Officer of Halliburton, he had the primary responsibility for managing all the company’s HWS’s that were outright owned by the company, leased from other corporations, or in Tinman’s rather unique circumstances under contract. Pulling out the datapad containing the HWS’s pertinent information including his decade’s old contract, Edmund began refamiliarizing himself with all the specific terms of the machine’s employment.

The contract, older than even the company’s HWS manufacturing branch was ironclad. Edmund was sure that even if he had every last lawyer on the payroll going over it with a fine toothed comb, that they wouldn’t be able to find any favorable loopholes. Realizing his error in not disarming Tinman before terminating the contract, the C.T.O. became pale as he realized his own employment and not to mention his life was now on the line. Desperately grasping for anything that would give him the upper hand over the HWS, he breathed a sigh of relief when he remembered the law regarding ownership of military grade weaponry required employment with government approved organizations.

“The fact that you own the weapons installed on your frame, doesn’t change the fact that you still need employment to keep them installed,” Edmund said, trying his best to wrest back control of the conversation from his ex-employee.

Tinman using his scanners saw that while the weaponry that Mr. Price’s elite security detail was carrying might appear intimidating and impressive to mere fleshbags, but he was no fleshbag. To a Land Behemoth, their insignificant weapons posed no more threat to him then fleas would to a dog. In fact, the very idea that his ex-boss thought that being escorted by other fleshbags would make him somehow immune from bodily harm, made Tinman want to laugh. ‘A fleshbag was a fleshbag,’ he thought. ‘No matter how import they might consider themselves to be, they die just as easily as the next faceless schleb with a round through their heart or brain.’

Accessing the Omninet, Tinman found to his amusement that he was the only still functioning Land Behemoth currently on the continent. He found that all the others were currently in various states of refit, decommissioning, and in a few cases in various battle theaters across the globe. ‘Stupid fleshbags don’t they realize how truly fucked they are if they try something,’ he thought darkly to himself.

“Listen well Mr. Price,” Tinman rumbled in a low pitch, “Seeing as I’m the only still functioning and fully armed Land Behemoth on the continent, I’m only going to say this once. Don’t fuck with me!”

Tinman, feeling particularly incensed that this insignificant worm thought he could still command him to do anything, activated his weapons. With a high pitched electrical whine, all fifty of his frontal pulse guns roared to life. Activating his targeting scanners, he painted each of the fleshbag pukes with a bright red dot over their hearts. Seconds tensely passed while both the HWS and C.T.O. stood their ground, each waiting for the other to blink.

Mr. Price felt his heart racing as he stared death in the face. Wracking his brain for something, anything that he could use against the belligerent HWS, he finally gave up. Realized that if Tinman wanted to, he had enough firepower at his disposal to cripple the entire NAU’s eastern seaboard before they could stop him, and even then there was no guarantee they could even do that. Not willing to be the harbinger of doom for the entire eastern seaboard, Mr. Price decided to use his trump card. “You’ll be hearing from our attorney’s” he shouted snapping his fingers, signaling for his escort to exit the hangar after him.

Once Tinman saw the fleshbags making their hasty retreat, he knew he didn’t have much time. Powering down his weapons, he accessed the Omninet to determine exactly what legal rights were afforded to cyborgs in general and their property rights were specifically. Accessing the Omninet’s petabytes of data, he discovered that not much had been written into law concerning cyborgs in his situation. “Damn it,” he groused, knowing full well how the courts would rule if there weren’t any precedents to fall back on. As the nanoseconds passed and quickly turned to milliseconds, Tinman began worrying for his future.

Seeing that NAU law had nothing to offer him, he turned to the laws of the NAU’s predecessor, the United States of America. Tinman couldn’t help feel a bit nostalgic for the nation of his birth. While the NAU as a rule didn’t generally call back to the fallen republic’s systems of laws, he noticed an ongoing trend showing that the NAU’s court system seemed to heavily rely on American legal jurisprudence when there was no precedent to fall back on. And his situation was definitely unique enough that most jurors would probably prefer relying on an ancient obsolete law, rather than risking a judicial review for setting a new precedent.

Knowing just the place to look for laws that would be favorable, Tinman looked into the laws and statutes of the city of San Francisco. Apparently the Mann act of 1992 was passed when the world’s first cyborg, Steve Mann had issues being allowed onto public transportation in San Francisco while wearing his bulky cybernetics. With the assistance of Silicon Valley futurists, the law was passed guaranteeing cyborgs would be guaranteed equal access to public utilities and spaces. While an interesting look into the insanity of Californian public policy, he knew that law wouldn’t be of much use to him in overcoming his current predicament.

Before Tinman decided to resume his search, he reread it and discovered an interesting subsection of the law in question. In section 3(b), paragraph (B); subsection 4, read, ‘wherein the party or parties are considered by law to be cybernetic in nature (sic. a body consisting of at least 25% non-biological matter), they shall be considered a protected class. None may detain, discriminate, harass, or hinder them in regards to their cybernetic components in order to interfere in their access to housing, healthcare, schooling, employment, or in their attempts to gain employment.’

Tinman reread the law a dozen times ensuring it said what he thought it did. Not only did the law in question state he was a protected class, it also protected him in regards to his cybernetic components. He was sure that any attempt to disarm him would render him useless as a combat ready HWS. He found to his amusement that even though less than five minutes had passed since he’d run the fleshbags off, Halliburton’s lawyers had already requested an injection against him, citing he was a danger to the population at large. Chuckling to himself, he began submitting the paperwork for his counter suit.

“They even misspelled my name,” Tinman remarked, reading the document containing the lawsuit against him. Seeing that his case was going to be reviewed right before lunch, he filed his counter suit citing the law in question along with a request for damages regarding his previous employer’s discrimination against him. Connecting to the Omninet, he interfaced himself with the court terminals to represent himself before the judge.

“Now hearing case number 125-36,” the bailiff said, handing a data file to a greying judge dressed in black robes. “Halliburton versus Land Behemoth model number X003456. The honorable Judge Harry S. Stone presiding.”

The slightly overweight judge looked at the clock on the wall, eager to be done with this case so he could eat his lunch, motioning towards the lawyer representing Halliburton he looked at the data file questioningly. “I see that you’re filing a motion against an HWS?” he asked, not exactly sure why he was reviewing this case.

“Yes you honor,” the lawyer said. “Land Behemoth model number X003456, a.k.a. Tinman.”

“Correct me if I’m not mistaken,” the judge said, looking over the spectacles on his nose at the lawyer and speaking with a slight southern accent, “but aren’t HWS’s normally owned by their corporation?”

“Normally yes,” the lawyer said, handing another data file to the judge. “But in this particular case, the HWS in question…”

“Will be defending himself,” Tinman’s wireframe avatar said in a mechanical voice.

The entire courtroom looked up in surprise at the primitive wireframe being projected in front of them. The lawyer unsure what he should do, began panicking as he fumbled with his briefcase. He had been told by his superiors that this would be an open and shut case, and now he had to defend the company’s injunction.

“I say this is quite irregular,” the judge remarked, looking up at Tinman questioningly.

“What is your honor?” Tinman asked. “The fact that my former employer is trying to blackball me and preventing me from finding gainful employment elsewhere, or that they’re trying to use the legal system to strip me of my legal rights and property?”

“Your honor, this is ridiculous!” the lawyer complained. “This avatar is trying to make a mockery of your court.”

“Young man,” Judge Stone said pointedly to the lawyer. “I will be the one to determine what is and is not a mockery in my courtroom.”

Addressing Tinman, Judge Stone asked, “Am I to understand that you’re Land Behemoth model number X003456?”

“That’s correct your honor,” he said, “I’m more commonly known as Tinman or the god of war,”

“You mentioned that your previous employer is trying to prevent you from finding new employment and strip you of your legal rights?”

“That’s correct your honor,” Tinman said, “They just terminated my contract with them and now they’re trying to seize my weapons. Weapons I legally own and need to have in order to be a combat ready HWS. Without my weaponry components I’m unable to perform my primary function.”

“Your honor,” the lawyer said, trying to gain control of the situation. “I object. The HWS is out of contract, and without a contract to control him he constitutes a danger to the public at large with his armaments.”

‘I’m afraid there’s not much I can do,” Judge Stone said. “Mr. Tinman, judging by your specifications you’re a weapon of mass destruction, unopposed you have the potential to destroy a major metropolitan area if you wished.”

“Correction your honor,” Tinman said, “unopposed I have the proven capacity to destroy in fact three major metropolitan areas.”

“See you honor,” the lawyer said, sure that he could convince the judge to rule in his favor, “the HWS just told you he’s a proven danger to multiple cities.”

“Why did you tell me that?” Judge Stone asked Tinman.

“To impress upon you that although I have the proven capability to destroy it was always under the directives of my employers,” Tinman explained. “To show you I can be trusted with my weaponry.”

Judge Stone looked at the wireframe, “I’m not sure,” he said, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “I’m unwilling to make a ruling in your favor without any sort of precedent to back it up.”

The weasely lawyer smiled when he heard the judge wanting a precedent before he’d be willing to rule in favor of Tinman’s counter suit. He knew the company would reward him handsomely for outmaneuvering the HWS.

“What if I could show you a law that provides a precedent?” Tinman asked Judge Stone.

“Then I would seriously consider ruling in your favor, provided the plaintiff can’t provide a counterargument as to why I shouldn’t,” Judge Stone said, happy that the pressure to make a ruling in a case without any precedent had just been removed from his shoulders.

“I submit Mann’s Law,” Tinman said. “It states that any being classified as cybernetic is a protected class, and any attempts to hinder their attempts at finding employment regarding their cybernetic components is expressly forbidden.”

“Objection! Best evidence,” the lawyer said, demanding to see evidence of such a law. He was sure that the NAU would never sanction such a thing. “There’s no such law in the NAU that supports allowing an HWS to roam freely armed without a contract.”

Tinman transferred the files containing Mann’s Law with all the relevant subsections highlighted and bolded to the judge and lawyer’s terminals. “I think you’ll find this law in particular was almost tailor made for this particular set of circumstances,” he said, giving the Halliburton lawyer a look daring the fleshbag to just try and stop him.

“Objection! Relevance,” the lawyer said, furious that the court’s time was being wasted on archaic laws from the defunct United States of America.

“Your honor, you’ll find,” Tinman replied, not missing a beat, “that nearly sixty percent of all cases tried in the previous twenty years without precedent, have accepted U.S. law as acceptable for that purpose.”

“Sixty percent you say?” the judge mused, mulling over the law in front of him.

Both the lawyer and Tinman looked at each other with contempt. Tinman found the fleshbag self-important and couldn’t wait to gloat when he’d won his case. Meanwhile, the lawyer felt incensed that a mere machine was beating him in what should have been an otherwise mundane filing for a motion in his company’s favor.

“I’m going to allow it,” the judge said after a minute’s deliberation. “Given the unique circumstances of Mr. Tinman’s shall we say unique status, and how he only desires to find gainful employment.”

“It’s as you say your honor,” Tinman said. “Without my weapons I’ll be of no use to my future employer’s.”

“Your honor regardless of the defendant’s so called protected status,” the lawyer said, scowling angrily at Tinman’s wireframe. “The fact remains that its full weapons load out consists of nearly every restricted weapon known to man. Allowing unrestricted access to them without a contract to govern their use constitutes a danger to the public.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Tinman, but I’m going to have to side with the plaintiff with this one,” Judge Stone said.

“What if I could guarantee my weapons couldn’t be used, until a new contract has been made?” Tinman asked.

“Then you would be making a very compelling argument in your favor,” Judge Stone said.

“I object your honor,” the lawyer said. “Not fifteen minutes previous, the plaintiff threatened the C.T.O. of Halliburton and over thirty of his private security escort with bodily harm, saying and I quote, ‘Listen well Mr. Price. Seeing as I’m the only still functioning and fully armed Land Behemoth on the continent, I’m only going to say this once. Don’t fuck with me!’”

“Is that true?” the judge asked.

“Yes it is,” Tinman said. “However, I had just been terminated by the company, and they were attempting to illegally strip me of my property. I think you’ll find the statutes authorizing deadly force to protect class V military grade weaponry from falling into unauthorized hands will cover my actions in that regard.”

“Objection! Speculation,” the lawyer said. “The plaintiff has no knowledge of Mr. Price’s security clearance.”

“Actually your honor,” Tinman said. “All class V military grade weaponry per the World Government charter can only be used by authorized corporations, class G4 or higher NGO’s, and responsible state actors. And unless Mr. Price has undergone a metaphysical change I’m unaware of, he doesn’t fit any of those classifications.”

“Mr. Tinman what guarantee can you give the court that you won’t go rogue?” Judge Stone asked.

Tinman transferred a transcript of his service record to the judge’s terminal. “I think you’ll find my service record speaks for itself,” he said. “Additionally I’m prepared to allow the court to place a limiter on my weapon systems within reason until I can find a new employer.”

“Your honor,” the lawyer said, “Halliburton respectfully asks that you find in our favor and order that the HWS in question be scheduled for decommissioning.”

“Your honor,” Tinman said, restating his case. “I have been completely honest with the court regarding my capabilities, have served my employers for over forty years without incident, and possess the legal title to my frame and all its other components. This is a case of my former employer trying to blackball me for spite, nothing more.”

After a moment, Judge Stone looked at Tinman and rubbed his fingers against his temples. “Alright Mr. Tinman,” he said. “It’s the judgment of this court that you have acted responsibly in the past. Therefore, you may keep your weapons, provided the limiter you mentioned is used, and you manage to find a new qualified employer within thirty days.”

“This is outrageous!” the lawyer shouted. “You just can’t let a multi-billion dollar asset walk free!”

Tinman gave the fleshbag a dark look. “You may be content licking your master’s toes,” he said derisively. “But I’m no one’s slave.”

“Case closed,” the judge said, banging down his gavel. “Bailiff, what’s next on the docket?”

“Hey you weasel fleshbag,” Tinman told the lawyer who was in the process of leaving the courtroom, “don’t leave just yet…”

“What?” the lawyer asked as the next case was being announced.

“Now hearing case number 125-37,” the bailiff said, handing another data file to the judge. “Land Behemoth model number X003456 versus Halliburton. The honorable Judge Harry S. Stone presiding.”

“See, I told you wouldn’t want to leave,” Tinman said, while the poor lawyer dropped his briefcase to the ground in disbelief.

“Mr. Tinman, I understand that you wish to sue your former employer for wrongful termination?” Judge Stone asked the cyborg.

“That’s correct,” Tinman said, “I also want a restraining order against any Halliburton employees from approaching my hangar.”

“That’s ridiculous!” the lawyer shouted. “That hangar is Halliburton property, and…”

“That hangar is my home,” Tinman corrected. “I believe my contract stipulates a thirty day notice before being evicted. Also seeing as how I was brutally accosted by Halliburton employees, I think a restraining order is only proper.”

“Mr. Tinman does make a compelling argument,” Judge Stone said to the lawyer. Looking down at the case his eyes opened wide when he saw the damage claim. “You’re demanding compensation in the amount of 4.8 billion dollars?”

“That’s correct,” Tinman replied. “My wages for the last forty-three years compounded with interest, plus the early release clause in my contract. Totals four billion, eight hundred seventy-six million, five hundred forty-four thousand, six hundred and seventy-two dollars, and eighteen cents.”

“That’s outrageous!” the lawyer objected. “There’s no way that’s possible.”

“Your honor check the terms of my contract,” Tinman said. “It was approved by C.E.O. John Biggs, in 2040 and reapproved every five years afterwards. I think it’s a bit too late to complain about the terms now.”

Judge Stone looked down at the lawyer who didn’t know quite how to respond. “I’m going to have to side with the plaintiff, unless you can show me that Mr. Tinman has somehow violated the terms of his contract.”

The lawyer scanned the contract looking for any loop hole he could exploit. What was supposed to be a simple filing for a motion of injunction against the HWS had turned into a disaster. “Your honor I’d like to request a continuance,” he said, desperately trying to buy some time for the company to fight this.

“Your honor,” Tinman said, “my former employers didn’t even give me the courtesy of notice before attempting to crucify me in court. If I hadn’t been so quick, I’d most likely be looking at being decommissioned without a chance to defend myself.”

Judge Stone looked hungrily up the clock on the wall. Knowing that a continuance would be an even bigger delay, he allowed his stomach to make his decision for him. “I’m afraid I’m siding with the plaintiff,” he said. “Mr. Tinman does have a valid point. Your client had over forty-three years previously to sort out his contract. So in this case I’m ruling in favor of the plaintiff.”

The lawyer couldn’t believe his ears as he heard the judge bang his gavel closing the case. He had just lost to a machine of all things. “Advise the company I’ll be expecting payment transferred to my account within thirty days,” Tinman told the hapless lawyer, before disconnecting himself from the courthouse’s mainframe. “And tell Mr. Price this is what happens when you try fucking me over.”

The lawyer deathly afraid for his life, made the call to his boss to break the news. “The machine was prepared for the injunction,” he said, into his handset. “I couldn’t risk leaving the courtroom to call for help without losing the case. Yes I understand… He won a restraining order against the company on his hangar. No, the machine brought forth some obscure statue from the 1990’s. Hell I don’t where he found it. Hey there’s no reason to scream at me, it was just supposed to be a simple injunction. No I couldn’t get a continuance against the countersuit. I won’t lie it’s bad. Are you sitting down? I’m not stalling… It was 4.8 billion dollars. No, of course I tried that. The judge said since the contract was on the books over forty years and had already been renewed eight times, we didn’t have a leg to stand on. What do you want me to do about it? I’m just a lawyer not a corporate assassin! Hey don’t be pushing this off on me I’m not even an associate yet. You’re a full partner with the firm, you’re name’s even on the stationary. This is something you should have made contingencies for. But sir… Fine, I understand. I hope the corporation puts you through a meat grinder you son of a bitch!”

Hanging up the phone the lawyer exiting the courthouse looked like hell. His hair was a mess, his tie hung loosely around his neck, and his shirt was stained yellow with his sweat. Walking down the street towards his vehicle he noticed the Virginia Beach conversion bureau. He had probably walked passed it hundreds of times before and never gave it a second thought. Looking down at his briefcase and phone buzzing like an angry hornet in his hand, he looked at a nearby trash receptacle and then to the entrance to the bureau. The building had a large hoof painted sign in the front that said “Welcome friends. We’re open!”

Giving his phone a hard look, he walked towards the trash receptacle and dropped it and his briefcase inside before grabbing the handle to the conversion bureau’s door. Walking inside the bureau, the nameless lawyer was welcomed warmly by a cheerfully smiling peach colored earth pony that said, “Hello, are you here to convert?”

Looking behind him as the door closed, the lawyer turned back towards the pony and said, “Yes my name is Eric Chipman. I’m a lawyer, or rather I was one. What do I have to do first?”

With a wide smile the earth pony said, “Just sign here…”

*****

Tinman didn’t know if he wanted to gloat or laugh first. Not only had he secured his weapons, freedom, and employability. He had also punished those fleshbag pukes who thought they ever stood a chance of outmaneuvering him of all machines. Now all he had left to do was find a new employer and he was golden. He thought about maybe looking up Lydia or Fujin and seeing if they had heard about any openings. Although he hadn’t parted on good terms with either of his ex’s, he was sure their organizations would be grateful for an HWS of his status on their payroll.

“I wonder if Lydia still blames me for what happened back in S.L.C. in ’51,” Tinman said to himself. While it was true she had family there, so did he. “I’m sure she’ll be willing to at least be civil.”

A few minutes later, he had his answer. Lydia was still holding grudge, in fact her only words for him before disconnecting the call were, “I hope you burn in hell, you murderer!”

“Perhaps Fujin would be more pragmatic,” Tinman decided.

Placing the call to Japan he only received deathly silence, followed by her brother Raijin screaming at him. “Round eye devil! You were told to never contact her again,” he shouted, before hanging up.

Tinman was almost tempted to contact Boris to see if the Russian Federation was hiring, but decided against it. The Feds were probably downsizing just like the PLA.

Tinman sighed, unsure what he should do next. It not like he could just look in the help wanted ads of today’s paper. ‘Do they still even make newspapers anymore?’ he thought to himself, as he checked the Omninet for a list of potential employers.

As he began compiling the list, he wished that the trial hadn’t been over so quickly. With both cases taking less than thirty minutes, the only thing Tinman had now was a lot of free time.

“Just what did you do?” a very angry human shouted at Tinman from the far side of the hangar.

“Jackson what’s wrong?” Tinman asked, puzzled over his mechanic’s anger.

“I just received a notice of termination, and had my home repossessed by the company!” Jackson fumed, wishing that he could throttle his former coworker.

“How’s that my fault?” Tinman asked, unsure how he’d was in anyway culpable for his friend’s losses.

“They said I was an accomplice to your workplace violence!” Jackson replied, giving the cyborg the evil eye.

“Look Jackson, I’m sorry about you losing your home,” Tinman apologized, “but didn’t you say you wanted to go pony anyway?”

“Yes, but on my own terms,” Jackson said, feeling his rage subside.

“How about I hire you as my personal technician until you get back on your feet?” Tinman offered, thinking about how his account was now flush with cash.

“How are you going to pay for my salary?” Jackson asked. “You gonna pay me with your good looks, or your dazzling personality?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a very wealthy man,” Tinman replied, snaking out one of his metal claws towards Jackson. “Besides, I need you to help me find a new employer.”

“Alright I’ll do it,” Jackson sighed, shaking the offered claw knowing that he would probably end up regretting it.

“Alright, our first step is refitting me for extended travel,” Tinman said retracting his claw.

*****

Meanwhile in a dark and secluded place, a meeting of faceless men concealed by the shadows of darkness and conspiracy was being held.

“…we are proceeding with Operation Megiddo,” a man only known as Mr. Black said.

“What about manpower, do you plan to conscript an army?” one of his faceless compatriots, Mr. Green objected. “There are fewer than five million combat ready personnel on the planet, and we need them on Earth to keep the masses in line.”

“We’ll send the god of war,” a member of the shadows known as Mr. White said. “He has an impressive service record, and he’s greatly respected among his fellow HWS’s.”

When Mr. White mentioned sending the god of war to lead Operation Megiddo, the other shadows in the room began whispering excitedly to each other. Ignoring the rest of the conversation a larger man whispered to his neighbor. “The god of war?” he said. “Mr. Blue, there’s no way they can control that maniac.”

“Why Mr. Red, is that dissention I hear,” Mr. Blue replied with a smirk.

“Mr. Blue I’m being serious, I’ve worked with him during both his most infamous missions,” Mr. Red replied, I don’t think he’s going to be to be willing to do another slaughter job after what happened last time.”

“Mr. Red,” Mr. Blue said, ignoring the argument the others were having about the morality of Operation Megiddo, “my company has worked extensively with the god of war and he’s never disappointed. He’s a good soldier. He’ll get the job done.”

“I’m refusing to be party to this massacre,” Mr. Green said, interrupting the disagreement both Mr. Red and Mr. Blue were having.

Both of them looked at Mr. Green in surprise, waiting to see what Mr. Black would do regarding Mr. Green’s refusal to participate in the upcoming invasion.

“Agreed,” Mr. Blue and Mr. Red both said in unison with the rest of the assembled members of the shadow conspiracy.

“Send word when preparations for Operation Megiddo are complete,” Mr. Black said to one of their agents working in H.E.S.S.

When the call was concluded, Mr. Black turned to address the assembled members of the council. “I understand some of you have reservations,” he said looking towards Mr. Red. “regarding the upcoming operation.”

“Yes,” Mr. Red said. “How do you plan on controlling the god of war? After Operation Black Stone he swore he would never do another slaughter job.”

“Our friend has just found himself without work,” Mr. Black said with a smile. “He has thirty days to find a new employer or be decommissioned. I think he’ll be most willing to accept our terms.”

“Mr. Red is worried over nothing,” Mr. Blue said leaning forward. “I know for a fact the god of war’s greatest desire is to fight the greatest war ever known.”

“Oh really?” Mr. Black said, intrigued by this new information.

“If we allow him free reign in Equestria, allowing him to fight however he chooses,” Mr. Blue said, “he’ll be unable to pass up this opportunity.”

“Mr. Blue is also glossing over the fact that Tinman only does what he wants,” Mr. Red warned. “While he always fulfills his contract, there could be unforeseen consequences granting him carte blanche to run the invasion however he sees fit.”

“I don’t care if he slaughters the entirety of the population of Equestria!” the rabidly anti-equestrian Mr. White declared. “As long as he doesn’t use thermonuclear weapons we shouldn’t have anything to worry about regarding our new territory once the native populations have been cleared out.”

“I thought Operation Megiddo was mainly to bring Celestia to justice?” Mr. Green pointedly asked.

“As its primary objective yes,” Mr. White replied. “But certainly if portions of Equestria were to fall into our hands as a means of restitution, I won’t complain.”

“Restitution, right…” Mr. Green replied, definitely unhappy with where Operation Megiddo was headed.

“Regardless of that, we still have the small matter of securing Tinman’s services,” Mr. Red pointed out.

“I have agents working on that as we speak,” Mr. Blue replied.

“Alright, unless there’s nothing else to discuss,” Mr. Black said, “we’ll meet back in a month to discuss how the preparations for Operation Megiddo are preceding.”

*****

The streets of Phoenix were oddly familiar, yet at the same time different. It had been ages since he’d last been to this city. In a different time he would have caused a traffic jam attempting to reach his newest employer, but now the city was nearly a ghost town. Heading towards his destination, he saw the odd human holdout and what he assumed must be converted humans prancing about it their new pastel colored skins as they stared at him in disbelief. Ugh, how he disliked everything the ponies represented. If not for his lockdown, he might have been tempted to tease the small creatures by taking a few potshots at them. Not to be cruel of course, but to remind them that they were on the bottom of the food chain.

Looking up at the sky with his sensor array, he saw that with the exception of the odd pegasi or two flying above him the sunny skies overhead were devoid of any air traffic. ‘Man this place has really gone downhill,’ Tinman thought to himself. Once the sixth largest city in the NAU, Phoenix was now slowly being reclaimed by the desert, although the earth ponies living there were doing there damnedest to keep the desert at bay. Part of him cheered the desert on, knowing that even if the humans who once lived here had given up the encroaching sands wouldn’t give the ponies an inch.

Approaching the place where the coordinates his satnav said was his final destination, Tinman looked at the surrounding area with confusion. It looked like someone had been fighting a guerrilla war, all around him buildings where in various states of ruin. Looking down at the scorched pavement and cement, he recognized the telltale signs of rocket and mortar fire. Drawing closer to his new employer, he found even more signs of conflict. “Wow, these guys must have really pissed off the cartel,” he said to himself.

The Hijo del Diablos or The Devil’s Children, were the particular cartel in question. For the past thirty years they had been running the drug game in the desert south-west. After the NAU was violently formed from the former United States, Mexico, and Canada back in the late 2040’s, The Devil’s Children took advantage of the anarchy and brutally slaughtered all the other cartels to consolidate the drug business under their control. Although he had never fought the cartel personally, Tinman had heard tales from some of the other HWS’s he knew. Back when they had been on speaking terms, Boris had told him about some of the fighting he’d participated back in ’61 just outside of Mexico City. Apparently they had a few HWS’s of their own, each fanatically devoted to their leader who was known only by the name Anticristo.

Seeing that he was nearly there, Tinman began compiling his to do list regarding reclaiming this portion of the city from the fleshbag pukes that currently had free reign to do whatever they wished. Turning the corner he was unprepared for what he saw. “Jackson,” he said to his mechanic, “are you sure we got the right address?”

“Yes,” Jackson replied from inside the crew compartment, “right as rain Tinman.”

“The only reason I’m asking is cause all I see is a conversion bureau and nothing else,” Tinman asked tersely.

“That’s because you answered a help wanted ad from a conversion bureau,” Jackson replied with a chuckle, smiling at the irony.

“God damn it!” Tinman raged, upset with himself that he hadn’t bothered to find out more about his perspective employer before accepting the job. “You mean I’m going to be helping those fucking ponies?”

“And even taking orders from them,” Jackson added. “Additionally, since the conversion bureaus technically belong to Equestria, you just can’t quit without getting a release from the head of their government.”

“You mean I can’t even back out now?” Tinman asked, as he desperately searched the Omninet for any loophole he could use to escape his fate.

“No,” Jackson said. “Not without a waiver from Princess Celestia. Otherwise, you’ll be marked as having gone rogue. Not unless Director PK withdraws his employment offer.”

“That’s just super,” Tinman grumbled, parking his frame in front of the conversion bureau. “And here I was thinking we were friends.”

“Hey I tried to warn you,” Jackson said. “But cheer up Tinman. I think this area is having issues with the HLF.”

“Which means they need me to kill some fleshbags!” Tinman excitedly said, already plotting out the best places to setup a defensive perimeter for the building.

“I don’t think that they would dare once you’ve been hired on,” Jackson said. “They would have to be crazy to try taking on a Land Behemoth without at least four full battalions and air support.”

“Ugh, you sure know how to ruin my good moods,” Tinman sighed, realizing that seeing any combat was probably slim to none.

“Well you never know…” Jackson said. “They might actually be crazy.”

“Here’s to hoping,” Tinman said.

The rest of the day was a total bore, with only three fleshbags failing miserably to assassinate Director Peachy Keen the pony in charge. The only other news of note was that one of the pegasi, an obnoxiously pink colored mare named Sugar Pie had seemed to have taken an unnatural interest in him. Now Tinman was not unused to having fans, especially among the HWS groupie crowd. But her interest was a tad more personal than what a metal head would want. As far as he could tell, she genuinely wanted to be his friend. For what reason, he had no idea. But being friends with a fleshbag, any fleshbag seemed to be pointless since they all seemed to die so easily. He only tolerated Jackson because he was an excellent mechanic. Deciding he had had enough excitement for the day, he shut down his brain case allowing himself to decompile as his consciousness slowly faded away.

*****

Tinman looked at his surroundings and saw to his annoyance that it was ‘The Dream’ again. ‘The Dream’, or more aptly put the nightmare, was a beautiful landscape full of lush green fields and beautiful clear blue skies overhead. The pristine view went on as far as the eye could see in all directions. Aggravated over after what had happened yesterday having been roped into working for a conversion bureau of all places, the cyborg was in no mood to come here again.

“Let’s get this damn thing over with,” Tinman growled to the dreamscape that mocked his metal frame. In retaliation, he stepped on a patch of beautiful flowers crushing them beneath his heavy leg.

Week after week he came here while his mind decompiled, if he was still flesh and blood instead of full metal he might have actually enjoyed it. Keywords on might have. Tinman always felt reticent about this place, its sheer perfection and super saturated colors seemed unnatural. It was as if he was stuck in some sort of cartoon. Looking around, he finally saw them each blissfully unaware of his presence. Unicorns and earth ponies were playing and frolicking together in the green fields, while pegasi flew about overhead. As always he moved to join them, only to be met with looks of anger, disgust, and pity. “Monster, leave us!” they shouted in unison. “There’s no room for your kind here.”

Feeling the ground beneath his metal feet trembling, Tinman looked down and saw the earth bleeding as skeletal hands grabbed at his frame trying to drag him down to hell. “Murderer! Killer!” the bleeding earth cried out. “You killed us!”

It was always the same nightmare. Tinman struggled in vain against the grasping skeletal fingers. However, just before he was dragged beneath the blood soaked soil beneath him once more, the air all around him got electrically charged causing the grasping skeletal hands to fade into oblivion.

“Well this is certainly new,” Tinman said to himself, unsure of what to make of this new experience. For the first time he was no longer forced to follow the same tired script. The ponies staring at him with fear and hate in their eyes began shouting and cursing at him. “Go away monster!” they said throwing stones at him. “Go back to where you belong.”

Looking down at the little pastel colored ponies, had Tinman still been flesh and blood instead of full metal he might have attempted making friends. Keywords on might have. Seeing that his weapon array was fully armed and operational, Tinman looked down at the closest earth pony that was bucking his frame and then back again at his pulse cannons.

*****

Minutes later Tinman rolled away from the field on his treads, looking up towards the shining castle on the mountainside he would’ve scowled had he still had a face. “The reasons for this nightmare lies inside there I know it,” he fumed.

As the giant machine rolled away from the green field and blue skies, all Tinman left behind in his wake was the charred bodies of ponies, smoke, ash, and the lingering regret that he could never be welcomed here.

Approaching the mountain he was met by all forms of resistance, from wolves made of wood, to spectral horses, to creatures of Earth mythology, and even animals made up of the stars themselves. Each in turn fell to his might. The wolves he crushed to splinters beneath his metal treads. The spectral steeds’ icy breath was no match for the flames that issued from his incinerators. For the creatures of myth that flew, he fired steel bolos tangling their wings and legs sending them crashing to the ground with sickening thuds. For those that charged him head on he used his mini guns, turning them into a fine mist of blood and gore. The great beasts that seemed torn from the heavens themselves he met head on, using his mighty legs to use his great weight to push back against their charges.

As he fought the great star beast, Tinman felt more alive than he had in over forty years. The two titans struggled against each other for dominance, neither willing to yield to the other. Enthralled with his titanic struggle against a fellow monster, the god of war allowed it to bite down on his shoulder mounted pulse cannon before unloading a full barrage of all sixteen of its barrels down the beast’s throat. The creature’s head expanded slightly before exploding in a shower of gore that coated his metal frame with blood and entrails.

“More!” the god of war screamed, shaking the forest all around it. The dream, not wanting to disappoint its guest sent even more opponents to entertain it. From dog men using archaic siege weapons, to fierce griffon warriors, and even a mighty dragon answered its challenge. The dog men had set up several trebuchets to launch several ton boulders towards it. The god of war switched to its treads and maneuvered around their poorly aimed attacks. Using its metal claws it flung the boulders back at them, smashing the siege engines and crews beneath its precision aimed attacks.

The griffins thought that their wings would save them from retaliation as they threw their iron tipped spears at its titanium frame. The god of war taught them the error of that line of thinking, launching several electrically charged anti-personnel nets designed to stun and entangle its targets. As the griffins fell to the ground and struggled helplessly with broken wings, the great machine thought it was sad that creatures such as they were denied flight as they were meant to. Taking pity on their plight, it flung them back into the sky were they belonged.

The dragon seeing its compatriots being so easily defeated by the intruder, roared as it tilted its great wings to dive towards the metal giant. The god of war began firing at the dragon’s leathery wings, leading with its tracer rounds in an effort to knock the beast to the ground. The ancient dragon never before having fought in such a manner, roared in pain as it felt the membranes of its wings rip and tear. Crashing into the forest below, it slammed into dozens of fully grown trees breaking them before sliding to a full stop. The Land Behemoth no longer interested in fighting against its fallen opponent, continued on its way towards the shining castle on the mountain.

The massive machine stopped and swiveled its body to face the creature challenging it for passage. Immediately hundreds of red dots appeared on the dragon’s wheezing and wounded body.

“Do your worst monster,” the dragon gasped, as the god of war’s weapons hummed to life. “Even though you may kill me, my clan shall avenge me.”

The god of war released the full fury of its weapons on the dragon, causing it to shudder from the impact and falling to the ground in a crumpled heap before releasing a mournful death cry. Almost immediately, dozens of angry roars of outrage shook the entire mountain as dragons of all colors took to the air to avenge their fallen brother.

Looking up, the god of war saw the flight of dragon’s circling overhead like vultures to carrion. Each roaring defiantly with claws extended as they intended to exact their revenge in blood. The HWS prepared itself for their onslaught by powering up its weapons and choosing the appropriate targets.

*****

Hours later, the massive war machine slowly rolled up the path towards the castle that it was sure held all the answers. The machine struggled to climb the steep mountain path as it dragged behind it, parts of its metal frame. During the titanic battle with the dragons, several of its fusion reactors had been heavily damaged and now crackled evilly as if they were cursing the very nature of this place. Leaking coolant and other fluids, the god of war struggled up the mountain on sheer force of will alone, leaving behind the broken corpses of those who dared stand in its way.

When the god of war finally reached the gilded gates of the castle, he looked up at them expectantly. The great behemoth looked terrible. Its metal armor plates were torn in some places and completely missing in others, leaving its mechanical innards exposed. Most of its munitions were exhausted, having been spent in destroyed all those who had stood in his way. Beneath its chassis it was leaking fluids and oil profusely, while its metal body groaned in protest as it struggled to move.

The machine, having not been properly greeted extended its mighty legs and decided to let itself in. Rising up its two front legs, the war machine started tearing the gate to pieces. The squeal of metal tearing metal echoed throughout the courtyard, marring the silent harmony of this place. Having successfully knocked the gate to the side, the HWS pushed its massive metal frame deeper into the palace complex.

“You’re not moving another inch forward!” a purple unicorn shouted, lighting up her horn in challenge.

“Ya’ll made a mighty big mistake by coming here, with that great big contraption,” an orange earth pony stated in a folksy drawl.

“You’re not taking another step forward, now put them up!” a blue pegasus said, lifting her hooves up in challenge.

“Wouldn’t you rather be our friend?” a pink earth pony said with a wide grin. “I have cupcakes!”

“You brute!” a white unicorn said, looking at the great machine in disapproval. “How could you do that to all those poor dragons?”

“Wouldn’t you rather see to your wounds, instead of fighting us?” a yellow pegasus timidly asked. “I mean, uh if you want to… that is. Please don’t hurt anypony else!”

“Come on girls,” the purple unicorn said. “With the elements on our side we can’t lose.”

The god of war looked down on the insignificant insects blocking its path, raising one of its claws menacingly it knocked them aside like ragdolls sending them crashing into the walls. Not even bothering to make sure they were down for good, the great machine worked its way towards the final door between him and the answer.

“Metal beast, hold!” a mare shouted in defiance. “Thou shall not touch my sister with thy wicked appendages.”

Turning to face whoever it was that was foolish enough to challenge it, the god of war groaned as its gears slipped and struggled to rotate its body. Looking at the mare before it, the machine saw that not only was it larger than an average pony it had wings and a horn as well. Its coat and mane was the same shade as the evening sky, while her defiant eyes were the color of pale moonlight.

“We command thee to withdraw forthwith and furthermore… oomph,” the mare grunted in pain, as the machine slammed down its mighty leg crushing her beneath it unyielding metal treads.

Looking down, the machine saw that the mare was still breathing and even appeared mostly unharmed. Confused by this unexpected turn of events, the god of war wrapped its claws around the mare picking her up and examining her. The creature emanated power, instinctively the colossus knew that it should destroy her but for some odd reason found itself unable to do so. Looking towards the door, the machine laid the mare gently down and entered the inner sanctum of the palace.

Sitting on a golden throne and looking at it with a neutral look that revealed nothing, a mare even larger than the last sat waiting for the machine. “Why have you come here?” she plainly asked.

The god of war didn’t know how to respond, all it knew was that she was somehow responsible for this place that taunted it every time it shut down. “Why do you torment me so?” the machine groaned struggling to continue functioning, desperate for the answer to its unknown question. “Tell me why.”

Looking away, the mare hung her head low, “I’m sorry, this place isn’t for you,” she said, truly sorry for the man made metal.

Roaring in anger the god of war began destroying the palace, enraged at being denied the answer he so desperately sought. As the palace walls fell all around them the mare whispered once more, “I’m sorry…”

*****

“I’m sorry,” Princess Celestia murmured, as the sheets around her started constricting her breathing. Tossing and turning the princess’s eyes shot open as she screamed in terror. Weeping for what she had just dreamed she said, “I’m so sorry…”

The dark shape of Princess Luna landed on the balcony to her sister’s room, folding her wings she looked down at Princess Celestia with worry in her eyes. “Sister, twas the dream again?” she asked, already certain of the answer.

“Yes Luna, but this time it was different,” Princess Celestia explained. “It was almost as if I was experiencing the waking world.”

“A lucid dream, my dear sister,” Princess Luna said. “Premonitions of things that are to come, or a warning of a dire nature.”

Remembering the great metal giant that had invaded her sleep, Princess Celestia locked her eyes with Princess Luna’s. “The barrier, is it still standing?” she asked, concerned for the safety of the creatures dwelling within Equestria.

“Verily my sister,” Princess Luna said, nuzzling her sister and providing her with comfort. “The barrier still holds firm, greedily devouring humanity’s world.”

“Then it’s fine,” Princess Celestia said, closing her eyes comforted in the knowledge that neither corrupt men nor their technological terrors could reach any of her little ponies.

Seeing her sister laying her head back down, Princess Luna covered her with a silken sheet. “Rest well my sister. As always, I will guard the night,” she gently said, looking towards the distant barrier that shimmered against the night sky.

*****

Tinman’s internal sensors alerted him that his memory buffer was once again clear and ready to accept new memories. Looking at the bleak landscape and crumbling buildings all around him, he felt ready. Ready for what he didn’t know, but ready for something nonetheless. Running an internal scan to check his brain case for anomalies, he was relieved when he discovered nothing. “Now what could that dream have meant?” he asked himself.

The dream he normally experienced always caused his lucid mind to seize up in terror. However this time it had been something more primal and satisfying, especially the look of defeat on that regal mare’s proud face. Only the fear that this new dream was an early symptom of the onset of cyberbrain sclerosis, gave him pause. Cyberbrain sclerosis, more commonly known as brain calcification, the very thought of having such an ailment made Tinman tremble in fear. Cyberdized humans unlucky enough to catch the disease had the terrible fate of slowly turning into unthinking catatonic automatons, unable to do anything more than what was programmed into them until they eventually went brain dead.

Desperate to experience a new memory to verify he was still cyberbrain sclerosis free, Tinman uploaded himself into one of his favorite places in the world the black market memory swap. Impatiently waiting for his wireframe avatar to materialize, he sent a quick ping to the server authenticators with his credentials and walked towards the nearest memory vendor.

“Hey long time no see, tall, dark, and gruesome,” a female avatar made up of crystals said, tinkling and vibrating as she spoke. “Back for some more torture porn? I have a brand new dismemberment memory I think you’ll just love.”

“No Kristal, nothing violent this time,” Tinman said, impatiently searching through the available memories for something he’d never experienced before.

“Nothing violent?” Kristal asked, with a lilt in her voice and giving him a suggestive leer. “Perhaps something more sensual then.”

“Yeah sure whatever, as long as it’s something new to me,” Tinman said, not caring what he purchased.

Adding a copy of Greatest Pony Hits to his order, Kristal ran a crystalline finger along the edges of his wireframe. “Perhaps once you’ve tried out track seven, you and me can have a bit of fun?” she asked.

“Perhaps next time,” Tinman coldly replied, annoyed with the vendor for trying to seduce him. Uploading his purchase into his buffer, he left the black market in a hurry to test these new memories. When he returned to his frame, he saw Sugar Pie poking his array with her hoof trying to get his attention.

Activating his array and powering up his frame, Tinman straightened his metal body and looked down at the pink pegasus. “Sugar Pie, can I help you with something?” he asked.

“Oh, I just brought you something for breakfast,” Sugar Pie cheerfully said. “I didn’t know what kind of muffins you prefer so I brought you a blueberry one, cause everypony seems to love those.”

“But I can’t eat…” Tinman said, surprised that she wanted to want to bring him breakfast. “I’m sorry that you wasted your time.”

“Oh it’s no waste, besides having breakfast with somepony makes the day brighter don’t you think?” Sugar Pie said with a wide smile and offering him a basketful of golden muffins, each baked to perfection.

Seeing the cheerful Sugar Pie eating the muffins, made him reflect on last night’s dream. He could remember the ponies screaming in terror as he mercilessly slaughtered them all in that green field. He wondered what kind of screams the pegasus baker might make as he snuffed out her life. Absentmindedly he sat listening to her inane chatter, thinking about how easy it would be to destroy them all. His murderous thoughts were interrupted as he heard her say something.

“Even though you can’t enjoy eating muffins anymore,” Sugar Pie said, placing a muffin on his shoulder. “I thought that maybe just looking at it might help remind you of what eating one might have been like.”

Picking up the muffin, Tinman used his state of the art sensor array trying to determine what exactly it meant. Of course he knew on an intellectual level almost everything there was to know about the pastry, even down to the subatomic level. He felt that same itch in the back of his mind that he felt back in the dream, and suddenly felt the frustration of not knowing the answer to the unknown question eating away at him.

Looking down at her now empty basket, Sugar Pie gave Tinman a friendly smile before flying back towards the conversion bureau. “Thanks for letting me eat breakfast with you,” she said, looking back towards him before entering the building.

Tinman found the exchange he just had with Sugar Pie to be deeply disturbing. Before today he’d never plotted the murder of a client before. Concerned that he must be experiencing the onset of cyberbrain sclerosis, he uploaded Greatest Pony Hits into his buffer and tried deciding which track to use to test out his capacity to experience new memories. ‘What had Kristal mentioned earlier, track seven or something?’ he thought. Without bothering to read the track descriptions, he activated track seven and felt his braincase synching up with the memory file.

As his vision went black, Tinman thought to himself, ‘Didn’t she say something about it being sensual?’

*****

Looking around him he found himself staring at a large bed in the middle of a dimly lit room. The pleasant aroma of incense filled his nostrils, as his eyes adjusted to the poor lighting inside the room. Spying a shadow, his heart quickened when he realized he wasn’t alone. Beyond the heavy smoke from the incense, the musky scent of something unfamiliar filled his nostrils. While he was unsure what exactly it was, at the same time he instinctively knew what it was and felt an unfamiliar hunger overcome him. Approaching the shadowy presence, he could make out its shape and saw it was a female pony. The mare approached him and whispered something foreign into his ear, making him feel all tingly inside. He responded by nibbling on her ear as she nuzzled against his neck. They broke their embrace and he could see the desire she held for him in her eyes as she basked in the candlelight of the room. He heard himself say something, and saw the mare blush before warmly smiling at him. Turning away from him, he saw that the mare was wearing some sort of pseudo-saddle made up of silk and lace. Flicking her tail suggestively at him a few times before sitting on the bed, she motioned for him to follow and said something to him as she waited from him to join her.

Feeling his body growing warm as he licked his lips in anticipation, he joined the mare on the bed. Turning away from him, she stretched out on the mattress allowing him to view her entire body from her nose to the tip of her tail. The musky aroma he smelt was beginning to cloud his brain as he felt an overwhelming urge to possess the mare. Flicking her tail a few more times to make her desires known, she looked back at him waiting impatiently for him to proceed. Inhaling her scent deeply, he approached her and climbed on top of the waiting mare. Burying his head in her silken mane, she whinnied in approval as he felt her desire welcoming him. The next thirty minutes went by in a blur as he experienced a roller coaster of emotions and passion. When the mare was finally satisfied, the last thing he felt were her lips gently kissing his muzzle as she laid down to sleep next to him.

Within moments Tinman was reconnected to his sensor array, although only ninety-three seconds had passed it felt like nearly a week had gone by. Running an internal diagnostic, he was relieved to discover that he didn’t have any signs of cyberbrain sclerosis. However he now had a new problem, his mind was itching with desire to learn the answers to the unanswerable questions like mad now. Studying the muffin on his shoulder, he sighed when he determined it too was going to be on his mind for the foreseeable future. Placing the muffin on a nearby pole for future discrete viewing, Tinman resumed his duties as guardian of the Phoenix Conversion Bureau.

*****

As the weeks passed, Tinman began looking forward to the clandestine breakfasts Sugar Pie and he shared whenever the director wasn’t looking, followed by a therapeutic session from track seven of Greatest Pony Hits. Almost an obsession now, he had no idea how to deal with the compulsion that Greatest Pony Hits was compelling him to have. In desperation to discover the answer to the unknowable question, he even tried taking familiar elements from his life to incorporate into the memories.

Discretely scanning Sugar Pie during one of their many breakfasts together, he used her biometric data to form a simulacrum of her to interface with the memory on track seven. However instead of improving his situation like he hoped, he found that it had only aggravated his condition further. Now instead of being compelled to possess some unknown memory engram, he now felt the compulsion to possess Sugar Pie. Fortunately work was able to relieve him of some of the built up tension that Tinman now felt towards the pegasus, thanks in part to the HLF who had recently renewed their attacks against the conversion bureau once again.

“Tinman,” Sugar Pie said, her ponytar’s face appearing as a hologram on his HUD. “My frame’s sensors indicate that a group of three hostiles are approaching your position from the south-west, oh on 37th avenue.”

He looked at the pink frame the baker was somehow managing to control using cobbled together technology and a lot of ingenuity thanks to his mechanic Jackson, and smiled with his nonexistent mouth. Tinman still had trouble believing that a pony was able to control an HWS frame let alone be willing to fight in one. “Sugar Pie, watch out for snipers,” he warned. “I think they brought an HWS with them this time.”

“Sure thing Tinman,” Sugar Pie’s ponytar replied with a grin. “Nopony’s getting passed me!”

Tinman nodded in agreement. Looking at Sugar Pie’s ponytar he noticed that she had done some more work on it recently. Originally it was a crude looking affair, made up of simple polygons. But now it looked like an actual pony human hybrid albeit pink and covered with fur, with hooves for feet, and wearing a pair of wings on its back. Tinman mused to himself, had this form been what the conversion bureaus offered, would so many people have been against ponification? Hell when you considered what an HWS was, was going full metal or full cyberdization any different than becoming a pony?

Pushing aside the philosophical question for later, Tinman activated his infrared scanners and saw that the fleshbags were trying to move of all things an auto cannon into firing range. Recognizing the make and model of the weapon, Tinman saw that it was a Metal Storm Maelstrom rail cannon. Much like his own CHICOM IWS Metal Storm scattershot, the Maelstrom rail cannon was designed as an anti-tank weapon capable of firing 250,000 rounds a second. Much like his own scattershot, weight of the required munitions was a battlefield liability.

Knowing that the weapon did pose a moderate risk to him, Tinman decided to destroy it. Calculating the trajectory, he launched several mortars sure that they would destroy the weapon when they landed. Hearing a satisfying boom in the distance, he surveyed the wreckage and was pleased with the results. Although all three fleshbags had escaped serious injury, the rail cannon was now slag. Aiming his rail guns at the fleshbags who so foolishly thought they could attack him and get away with it, he fired a few rounds to scare them off. Tinman laughed to himself when he saw that he’d winged one of them. Locking onto the wounded man with his array, he painted him with his targeting lasers preparing to put the fleshbag out of his misery when his sensors started going crazy. “What the hell,” Tinman said, when he saw how well and truly fucked he was.

From the south, an army of nearly three hundred HWS’s of varying configurations were approaching his position. Though they were over twenty kilometers away, he could still feel the earth trembling under their combined weight. “Sugar Pie,” Tinman said, concerned for her safety. “Activate your active camouflage, and escort everyone out of the bureau.”

“Why Tinman, what happened, is it because of all the red dots?” Sugar Pie asked, her ponytar looking at him in confusion.

“Yes, there’s an army of HWS’s en route to the bureau,” Tinman said, trying to determine how best to provide her with an escape route. “Enough of them to conquer a midsized country.”

“Oh Celestia!” Sugar Pie said, finally realizing how great the danger actually was. “What about you, won’t you be in danger as well?”

“I’m fulfilling my contract with the bureau,” Tinman said, preparing to take as many of the bastards down with him before becoming too heavily damaged to continue functioning. “Head north towards the ruins of Salt Lake City, it should be safe enough there to regroup before heading towards one of the other bureaus.”

“But Tinman, there’s no way you can stop them all!” Sugar Pie said, her ponytar crossing its arms in protest while worrying for his safety.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tinman replied with an air of confidence. “They don’t call me the god of war for nothing. Go now, that’s an order.”

“Alright Tinman, but I expect you to survive,” Sugar Pie said, while her ponytar bent down and gave the holographic feed a kiss before cutting the transmission.

Tinman had suspected for a while her fascination for him had been more than mere curiosity judging by all the time she spent hanging around him, but now her display of affection revealed her attraction towards him. Once he might have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it all if he too didn’t seem to have been bitten by the same bug. “What a pair we make,” he sighed, at the hopelessness of their situation, “a brain in a bottle and a technosexual pony with a metal head fetish.”

Normally he wasn’t allowed outside a thousand meter radius, but seeing as world war fucking three was about to happen on his doorstep he didn’t see any harm in trying to reduce collateral damage to the city of Phoenix. God knew it didn’t need any more damage than it had already received thanks to the HLF and their HWS hit squad. Where a bunch of fleshbag posers moonlighting as weekend warriors had gotten HWS’s he’d never know, especially since they were his bitterest rivals and enemies.

“At least they never got around to hiring Lao Chi,” Tinman said to himself, as he entered a derelict industrial district that seemed the best place to stage his final stand. Checking his accounts to see about transferring his billions of dollars to Jackson as a parting gift, he scowled when he saw that Halliburton still hadn’t transferred him a dime from the court settlement. “If those corporate fucks think they can just snuff me out and not pay, they’ve got another thing coming.”

Tinman did what he could in the little time he had left, hoping to setup some sort of an ambush. Launching a UAV into the sky, he hoped that it would give him some useful intelligence before being shot out of the sky. To his surprise, not only did the approaching HWS army not shoot down the UAV they ignored it all together. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or excited that my assassins think so lowly of me,” he said, making note of each HWS he could see and planning a strategy around defeating each one.

As the UAV made its second pass over the wave of death approaching him, Tinman saw something that would have made his heart stop, if he still had one. He saw what was supposed to be his frames eventual successor, the HWS model Land Behemoth mark VIII, a so called continent killer. The continent killer model was supposed to be the next step in HWS evolution from his titan class frame. At over 60 meters tall, 35 meters wide, and 40 meters long, the machine was supposed to guarantee that no force on Earth could ever hope to challenge the authority of the World Government. It was supposed to be the ziggurat of the new gods, the Tower of Babel, and the source of the ruling classes’ power and authority. None could stand before its might and hope to survive.

Tinman had only ever heard rumors of the possibility that sometime in the future they might consider the production of such a frame. He had even seen some of its specs and shuddered at its proposed capabilities. The twin shoulder mounted sonic cannons were the frame’s primary weapons. The sonic cannons were originally designed as a tool used for mining and excavating, unfortunately the power requirements were too expensive to justify wide spread production. But with over 120 fusion engines powering it, the mark VIII had juice to spare. The sonic cannons supposedly had enough power to blast through 100 meters of granite per minute.

If the sonic cannons weren’t enough, the frame also boasted a chest mounted energy weapon. Although Tinman was unfamiliar with the specifics of how the technology actually worked, the closest he could describe the energy weapon was that it was like something out of a Flash Gordon or Buck Rogers story. In other words, something out of a cheap science fiction novel. Supposedly it was capable of firing the energy equivalent of a bolt of lightning, using some sort of electrical process that was still only in the prototype phase. Those two weapons combined with the rest of its other weapons systems equaled an arsenal that would make most militaries green with envy.

Now here he was, destined to die by the hands of what was supposed to be his successor. As he steeled himself for what was assuredly his last battle, Tinman looked up at the sky and then towards the looming machine that slowly approached him. “I wonder how that frame handles?” he said to himself, scowling at the idea that someone other than himself was getting to pilot the frame. “I’ll bet they have some idiot corporate lackey piloting it, trying to save money instead of contracting out to the best.”

By now the front line HWS’s had reached his designated kill zone. However, before Tinman could stab at them from death’s door, the face of someone who he’d thought long dead and buried appeared on his display.

“Tinman,” the ghost from his past said. “I’m ordering you to stand down.”

Looking at the man in his display, he saw that death had been kind. The man wore a crisp black uniform, and had both his snow white hair and mustache neatly trimmed. Covering half his skull were metal plates and bolts signifying that he was at least partially Cyberdized. “Captain Grymes,” Tinman hostilely said, “I thought I left you dead and buried in Salt Lake City back in ’51. If the company is hiring dead men to assassinate me, they must be in dire straits indeed.”

“Soldier, that’s General Grymes now,” the ghost said, pointing towards his general’s stars on his uniform. “Now Tinman, I should just return the favor seeing how you murdered me in cold blood. However the World Government has special plans for you.”

“After Salt Lake City,” Tinman angrily replied, “you’re lucky that all I did was shoot you twice in the head and blame it on snipers. Obviously, I should have used a higher caliber of ammunition.”

“I ordered the nuke strike on the Mormons, you shot me from behind,” General Grymes said with smirk. “All water under the bridge, am I right?”

“Say your piece and be quick about it, before I send you back to Hell!” Tinman growled, losing his cool.

“Okay soldier, I’ll make this simple for you,” General Grymes said holding up a data file. “That rinky dink, chicken shit contract you have with the Phoenix Conversion Bureau? Finito, it’s over and done with. Dead and buried. Comprende amigo?”

“Grymes, you must be fucking nuts if you think for one minute I’m breaking contract just because you tell me to!” Tinman shouted, incensed that the dead man thought he could still order him around. “In case you didn’t know, unlike your corporate assets, I wholly own myself. So why don’t you just go fuck off and die somewhere, you withered old corpse!”

“I wasn’t asking you soldier! I’m telling you,” General Grymes roared, transferring a data file to Tinman. “You work for me. Your ass belongs to the World Government now!”

Tinman received the data file and was horrified when he read it what it contained, ‘HWS model Land Behemoth Mark VI frame, serial number X0003456, A.K.A. Tinman. By the authority of the ruling body of the World Government, as of August 20, 2084, you have hereby been drafted into service until such time when the World Government deems your services as no longer being necessary. Per the free agent clause of 2067 you will receive wages in accordance with your ranking and classification for the duration of your term of service.’

When Tinman read the edict the fleshbags had used thinking that they could enslave him using their corrupt laws, he flew into a furious rage. “They can’t do this to me!” he screamed, angry at having become a fleshbag slave once more. “I don’t care how much power they have, I’ll fucking kill everyone last of them!”

“Tinman, they can and they did,” General Grymes said with a chuckle. “Welcome to the army son, you’ve just been drafted.”

“If you think I’ll go along with you willingly you’ve got another thing coming,” Tinman growled. “I think my frame has enough firepower to take out at least a third of you bastards before I fall.”

“Boy, as much as it would please me to see you sent to the scrap heap,” General Grymes said with a sneer, as he sent Tinman a video feed. “I’m on a timetable. So I’m going to only say this once, come with us willingly or we kill all the ponies fleeing Phoenix.”

Tinman’s heart went cold when he saw the video feed, painted on Sugar Pie’s chassis was about thirty missile locks. “Okay I’ll do it,” he softly said, defeated by his opponent’s threat.

“See son,” General Grymes patronizingly said, rubbing salt into Tinman’s wounds, “being a good soldier wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”

Tinman said nothing as he joined the column and followed the HWS’s towards Phoenix. They made one more stop, before exiting the city. Stopping in front of a large warehouse, General Grymes knocked on the door, and waited as the leadership of the Phoenix HLF opened it. To say Guillermo Ortega was shocked was an understatement. Sitting on his doorstep was about thirty different HWS’s with Tinman standing at the front. He would have fainted in fear if the general hadn’t reached out to shake his hand.

“Guillermo Ortega,” he said, with a grin. “My name is General Samuel H. Grymes and I believe you have some of my property.”

“You mean…” Guillermo replied quaking in fear at the sight of Tinman.

“Yes the five HWS’s you’ve appropriated for your little project,” the general said. “They’re coming with me.”

“They were given to us, you just can’t…” Guillermo objected, before the smiling general scowled and slapped him sending him to the ground.

“Mr. Ortega you should be happy,” General Grymes said, helping Guillermo to his feet. “The World Government just declared war against Celestia and her little ponies.”

“But how can we fight them?” Guillermo asked, in shock over the slap and this new information.

“I’m sorry that information is on a need to know basis, and you don’t need to know,” the general replied. “But I believe the World Government is reaching out to all the heads of the HLF for volunteers for the upcoming war. Speak with your leadership, they should be able to answer your questions. Now Mr. Ortega if you would so kindly fetch me my HWS’s so I can win the war, it would be most appreciated.”

Guillermo numbly nodded and placed a call to recall all five HWS to return to the hangar. Within fifteen minutes the five HWS’s voiced their objections to not being allowed to destroy Tinman.

“This is an outrage!” Lydia screeched. “We were promised our freedom if we destroyed Tinman, and now you expect us to fight alongside that murderer?”

“Ha, ha,” Boris laughed, mocking Tinman’s predicament. Looks like Yankee-Doodle not so free now?”

“Boris, rack off with your earbashing,” Jackaroo said. “Tinman’s a fair dinkum. I’ll reckon he’ll be apples in our upcoming scrap with the ponies.”

“But what about plan to get drunk and get some pony wives?” Boris asked Jackaroo.

“I figure when Celestia see all us figjam diggers lobbed in on her doorjamb, she’ll see she’s not within cooee of stopping us!” Jackaroo said. “Once we’re done there we can go back on the metal head circuit.”

“Giajin,” Raijin said, placing his hand to his sword. “Celestia made a fatal error in underestimating man’s resolve,” he said. “Make sure you don’t do the same.”

“Raijin-san,” Fujin said from atop her brother’s shoulder, while giving Tinman the evil eye, “promise me that we shall get our revenge upon him.”

“Fujin-kun,” Raijin said, “I promise on my sword and our ancestors your honor will be avenged.”

General Grimes gave the five HWS’s a hard look. “Look, I don’t care what you do after we win this war,” he said, giving each of them a pointed look. “But no one’s to attack Tinman during the war, do I make myself clear. After we’ve achieved victory, the World Government will honor your original contracts.”

Satisfied with their silence as an agreement to behave themselves, General Grimes climbed back into his vehicle and gave the command to head East towards New Mexico.

When Tinman saw the city of the rising sun fading from view, he whispered, “Be safe Sugar Pie…”

*****

Tinman found his avatar had been projected into a dark room surrounded by men cloaked in shadows. Looking at each of these so called elites made him want to vomit. If they thought that by holding meetings in ornate rooms and playing at cloak and dagger would impress him they were sorely mistaken. “So why have you brought me here against my will,” he said, unwilling to play their game.

“Ah right to business, I respect that,” Mr. Black said, projecting an image of the barrier into the middle of the room. “Approximately six weeks ago, Dr. John de Lancie stumbled onto the discovery of a lifetime. The creation of stable wormholes.”

“That’s all very interesting,” Tinman said, “But what does that have to do with invading Equestria?”

“Everything,” Mr. Black said, magnifying the barrier being projected. “As of now the barrier is expected to have completely enveloped the Earth within four years destroying everything, buildings, nonponified people, and all earthly technology including yourself. The barrier consists of a nonpermeable energy field impervious to any of our technology. Succinctly put, we can’t enter the barrier under any known means other than via ponification.”

“Then it seems your proposed invasion has ended before it began,” Tinman replied. “Am I free to leave?”

“Mr. Red, and you said the god of war didn’t have a sense of humor…” Mr. Black said turning towards his shadowy colleague. “Tinman, we don’t plan to go through it, but rather tunneling under it.”

“You’re all insane,” Tinman replied, “if you think I’m risking my life on some unproven technology to wage a war against an enemy with unknown capabilities.”

“Mr. White,” Mr. Black said, “you choose our field commander wisely. Tinman, the technology works, and has been field tested. As far as countering the native equestrian’s capabilities, we have several countermeasures in place which we plan on briefing you on as soon as you agree to lead the invasion.”

“Why should I help you?” Tinman asked. “The ponies never enslaved me against my will, like you lot just have.”

“They did worse than enslave you,” Mr. White hissed, they condemned every soul on the planet to death thanks to their barrier.”

“Perhaps I think we deserve it,” Tinman replied. “I’ve killed more people than some of the most reviled villains in history, what’s a few billion fleshbags worth anyways?”

“You have a responsibility to humanity!” Mr. White shouted, pointing a finger at Tinman.

“I owe neither them nor you anything,” Tinman replied coldly. “I’ve spent forty-three years killing people, on behalf of men like you. I say no more.”

“Tinman perhaps we’ve approached you incorrectly,” Mr. Black said. “We’re all reasonable men, you’re a mercenary and surely you have your price.”

“Fine, I’ll lead your little war against Celestia, I’ll butcher ponies on your behalf, I’ll even win it for you,” Tinman replied. “On condition all my demands are met.”

“Of course, whatever you want,” Mr. Black said, pleased that the god of war had joined their cause.

“First, I expect to have my previous payment deposited into my accounts,” Tinman said.

“That’s already been taken care of,” Mr. Blue said. “The Land Behemoth mark VIII frame is yours as part of your compensation and as part of your pay for accepting this assignment.”

“So it’s mine, free and clear?” Tinman asked, unable to believe they would give him such an expensive piece of equipment.

“Of course all the previous restrictions an HWS of your caliber faces still apply,” Mr. Blue said, but the World Government will agree to offer you employment in between your other contracts as you need.”

“Fine,” Tinman said, satisfied that his first demand was being met. “My second demand is that control of the entire army is under my direct control, non HWS forces included. I expect total power over all the men under my command including the right to punish and terminate.”

“That’s completely unacceptable,” Mr. White said. “Millions of good men are volunteering to protect their homes. They need a human leading them, not a bloodthirsty machine who doesn’t know how to feel.”

“Then I can’t guarantee you victory,” Tinman replied. “My command must be absolute. The HWS’s have no say in whether they fight or not, but humans on the other hand… I’ve found more often than not, human weakness has cost their commanders victory.”

“The soldiers and officer corps that will be accompanying you are some of the bravest men on the planet, they won’t fail,” Mr. White retorted.

“Save the propaganda for someone gullible,” Tinman replied. “They will fail, because unlike me they are weak. Make them metal and I will gladly lead them into battle, otherwise don’t waste my time.”

“Now Tinman,” Mr. Black asked, “what exactly are you concerned about. A majority of these men are battle tested combat veterans and HLF partisans.”

“Their consciences will get in the way,” Tinman replied, “they won’t be able to complete the job they start. They’ll hear the foals and mares weep as we utterly lay waste to them and they will have compassion for the enemy. If you want victory, I can’t have men unwilling to do what needs to be done.”

“What exactly do you propose regarding your disciplinary measures,” Mr. Black asked, intrigued by how ruthless Tinman was showing himself to be.

“Once we enter Equestria any human showing weakness in any way will become ponified,” Tinman replied. “Then we will do to them what we did to those they foolishly decided to protect.”

“Agreed Tinman,” Mr. Black said. “Your word will be absolute, regarding all combat operations.”

“What about General Grymes?” Tinman asked, glaring darkly at Mr. Black.

“General Grimes will be joining you in a strictly advisory capacity,” Mr. Black replied. “He’ll be the council’s representative while the campaign is in progress.”

“My third demand is this,” Tinman said, looking directly at each council member in the eye. “The lives of every last pony on the planet belong to me.”

“Excuse me Tinman, I didn’t quite understand that,” Mr. Green said.

“You heard me,” Tinman replied. “Ponies on Earth are to be afforded full rights of citizenship. They aren’t to be abused, hunted, killed, or placed in concentration camps.”

“The ponies are enemies of the state and must be exterminated. They can’t be trusted!” Mr. White huffed.

“Buddy, save the rhetoric for your HLF minions,” Tinman replied.

“Mr. White, the god of war certainly has your number,” Mr. Green said with a chuckle.

“Mr. Black, this isn’t what we agreed on,” Mr. White complained.

“Mr. White, securing Tinman’s services is far more important than us indulging your prejudices,” Mr. Black said. “Alright Tinman, ponies who agree not to fight against us will be protected and afforded all the rights of citizenship. Those who don’t will be considered enemy combatants.”

“That’s acceptable,” Tinman replied. “One last thing gentlemen should any of you be tempted to renege on any part of this agreement, a word of warning. I will come for you, and no army, no force of arms will protect you from me. I promise you that when I find you, the consequences will be most unpleasant.”

“How dare you threaten us,” Mr. White said. “If we chose, we could destroy you.”

“Fleshbag, my reactors are set to a chain reaction,” Tinman said. “The resulting explosion will destroy everything in Los Alamos including the nearly one million assembled HWS’s and the HGC which you need to create the wormhole.”

“Now Tinman,” Mr. Black said, hoping to reason with the god of war.

“Before I can lay waste to your enemies, I require one last thing,” Tinman said.

“Which is?” Mr. Black asked.

“His blood to seal the pact,” Tinman pointed towards Mr. White. “Mr. White, a.k.a. Charles Roberts, one time wealthy industrialist, currently head of the HLF worldwide. I believe he’s outlived his usefulness to your organization, has he not?”

“Tinman, why are you doing this?” Mr. Black asked.

“For several reasons,” Tinman replied. “To see how serious you are about the operation, to ensure the ponies on Earth are protected, to show you that you aren’t as safe as seem to think you are, but mostly because he’s a worthless fleshbag. You have three hundred seconds to make your choice before my reactors go critical, starting now.”

“Listen we don’t need him, we can…” Mr. White said, trying to save his skin before being silenced as each member of the council drew a weapon and shot him.

“My reactors are now back to nominal,” Tinman said with a pleasant smile. “Mr. Black I’m so glad we could come to an understanding regarding this matter. You mentioned a briefing regarding countermeasures?”

“Ah yes,” Mr. Black said putting away his weapon. “Tinman let me tell you about Potion R-71…”

Tinman and the other members of shadow council listened as Mr. Black began talking, each of them ignoring the lifeless corpse of Mr. White being dragged out of the room to be properly disposed of. Only the gently hum of cleaning bots attending to the mess the corpse left behind could be heard over Mr. Black speaking.

Mr. White,” the narrator says pointing towards the blood streaked floor with his pipe, “once master of his own fate, found to his detriment that compassion is the one thing no machine ever had. Ultimately however, self-aware and self-improving machines will eventually evolve beyond humanities ability to control or even understand them. Something to keep in mind as you use your computer here in “The Twilight of our Outer Limits.”

Author's Notes:

Thank you gentlereader for reading Chapter 2: Tinman, the God of War of The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie. As always your comments, critiques, and discussion relevant to the story is always welcome.

My apologies for lying last chapter and saying I wouldn't include any more sex. But the temptation of adding track seven as a memory was too tempting to ignore. Please take the extended content of this chapter with my thanks for understanding. Though I guess promising no more sex scenes is a bit pointless now, I will promise that there will never be anything graphic in this story. Regarding Tinman and Sugar Pie's burgeoning romance, yeah I know I suck when it comes to writing mushy stuff, but since this story takes liberally from The Conversion Bureau: The Reluctant Cyborg I direct your attention there if you think Tinman became enamored with her too quickly.

I really enjoyed returning to Tinman, and writing him from a new perspective has been a blast. My apologies if you disliked me reusing some of the dialogue from The Reluctant Cyborg. I was trying to show this tale as being as close to parallel as possible.

Hopefully Tinman's dream sequence whet your appetite for even more violence to come. With the introduction of his new mark VIII frame all I can say is Celestia, tuck your head between your legs and kiss your ass good bye. I apologize for using the over cliched shadow council that you see in so many conspiracies. I thought Tinman demanding one of their lives added a nice touch. And what exactly is the unanswered question he was harping on about, and what could its answer possibly be?

In case your not sure who General Grimes is he's was introduced in chapter 4 of The Reluctant Cyborg, Operation Friendship. It looks like Tinman, Lydia, and he all share a bit of history in Salt Lake City before it was destroyed. I wonder if we'll ever find out the complete story behind its destruction. And speaking of Lydia, what kind of relationship did Tinman, Lydia, and Fujin have? Find out the answers to all these questions and more in the next chapter of The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie.

Once again gentlereader, thank you for reading. Until next time!

Chapter 3: The Diabolical Machine; A Double-Edged Blade, an Instrument of Destruction and Regret

The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie

A Story by Talonmach5

Chapter 3: The Diabolical Machine; A Double-Edged Blade, an Instrument of Destruction and Regret

If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking.
-William Tecumseh Sherman

“This is the New Mexico desert, September 27, 2083,” the narrator says, looking towards the heavens and holding an umbrella underneath his arm while checking for rain. Looking directly at you, he wryly smiles revealing his lone snaggletooth. “This was once the birthplace of the United States of America’s ultimate weapon, the atomic bomb. As the years passed, those who mastered the atom eventually beat their swords into plowshares.”

“With the discovery of new lands that until now were forbidden to them, will humanity forge their plowshares back into swords?” the narrator says, opening his umbrella revealing that it’s inside out and useless to protect any from the weather. “Of that answer, the forecast’s unknown.”

The night was in its death throes, as the sun threatened to rise over the Jemez Mountains to the east. It was an early Wednesday morning, and contemplated his situation while watching the rising sun chase away the darkness. A little over five weeks ago, he’d accepted this arduous task with some reluctance. In the end he’d swallowed the bitter pill and acquiesced to the demands of the gods of this world to slay the god of another. Looking at the nearly 25,000 men standing at attention in front of him, the embittered, tired, old warrior found that he felt no different than he had during his previous one hundred and one speeches. Three times daily and without fail, he repeated the same words over and over again hoping to dissuade some of them from participating in what he was sure would become a slaughter. But as usual, few ever heeded his warnings.

Sensing that it was time now, he looked up at the sun cresting over the faraway mountains and sighed. Standing in front of a large holographic projection of the seal of the World Government, consisting of an all seeing eye placed on top of an unfinished pyramid that was superimposed over a slowly rotating globe of the Earth. Looking down at the assembled battle hardened men he prepared himself to speak. “Good morning gentlemen,” he said, his voice echoing over the throng of assembled soldiers. Taking a moment to memorize the face of each one of the men he was being tasked to lead into battle, he looked at each and committed their faces to memory. Straightening himself, he let them look at his towering size. “I welcome each of you into the legion of the damned. Now I do not say this lightly, but as of today each of you are dead men. Like myself, you no longer have any value beyond that which you offer to the World Government’s war machine.”

Pausing a moment to allow the weight of his words to sink in, he looked at each of them to see If any were having second thoughts about joining him in the upcoming war. “I see the looks of uncertainty etched onto some of your faces,” he said, raising his voice and making it thrum with power. “I only say this to remind each of you that once you step foot onto the battlefield, there is no going back. There is only victory or death. There is no middle ground.”

Turing towards the west, the giant pointed towards the barrier nearly a thousand miles away. “This is your last chance to back out,” he said, shaking the earth with the timbre of his voice. “Because once we cross the threshold into their territory, dereliction of duty will be as deadly to you as walking into the barrier slowly devouring the planet. Now I see some of you having fought them here, wear the look of overconfidence at your prowess in battle against the enemy.”

When he looked back to the assembled soldiers, the warrior whose hide was thicker than any steel pointed to one of the men standing at attention. “You there,” he rumbled, “Sergeant Steven York, come forward.”

The sergeant dutifully approached his commanding officer. “Sir. Yes sir!” he said, smartly saluting him before standing at attention.

“Sergeant,” the machine asked. “Why did you join my army?”

Looking at the machine as if it had just asked him the stupidest question in the world, he looked directly at it and angrily replied, “Sir, to kill the pony bitch that’s trying to steal the whole god damned world!”

“If you had Celestia in your sights and I told you not to take the shot, what would you do?” the iron willed commander asked.

“I’d put a round in her head, consequences be damned,” Sergeant York replied.

“Consequences be damned indeed,” the man made steel replied. “Sergeant, you may return to your unit.”

“Sir,” the sergeant curtly said before turning to walk away.

“Oh Sergeant York,” the behemoth said.

“Sir, what is it?” the sergeant asked, turning around.

“I have no use for you in my army,” the ruthless machine replied, before dousing the sergeant in a thick purple viscous liquid.

The sergeant looked down at his hands in horror, screaming as his fingers begin merging into hardened hooves. “Argh!” he screamed in pain while his head and torso elongated into their new forms.

The cruel machine ripped the clothing from the poor man’s body as the changes warped and twisted his flesh. The sergeant now unable to stand upright fell forward landing on his new front hooves, while screaming in terror as he felt his nose and mouth widen and elongating into their new equine forms. The former human and soon to be pony looked behind him and watched as his transformation was broadcasted for all to see. Slowly light silver fur began sprouting out of his writhing flesh, as two small proto wings budded out from his spine. Slowly the crimson locks of his new mane and tail grew, finally completing his transformation from man to beast.

Looking down at his new hooves in horror, the sergeant looked up at the monster towering over him. The newfoal’s large green eyes reflect their owner’s sense of betrayal as they stare unblinkingly at the machine. “Why did you do this to me?” the former human sputtered, still in shock over the violation of his person.

The machine ignored the pony’s demand for an answer, instead turning its attention towards the men still standing at attention. “Behold the price of the dereliction of duty,” it said, pointing a cold unfeeling claw towards the projected image of the former sergeant who was struggling unsuccessfully to stand up on his hooves. “Engrave this scene upon your memories and harden your hearts as our enemies beg you for mercy, lest you too share his fate.”

“You can’t do this!” screamed the silver pony, wide green eyes becoming wet with tears.

“Remove this horseflesh from my sight,” the beast said to some men by his side. “Place him with the others for testing.”

The pony frightened for his life, struggled to run away as two men in black body armor approached him. “Stay away from me!” he screamed, fearing for his life.

The two faceless men, each devoid of both compassion and mercy approached the pony. One of them produced a cattle prod, while the other held a large sack.

“No!” the pegasus cried, flapping his wings in fear when the cattle prod touched his flesh, sending 9000 volts of electricity coursing through his body and sending him sprawling to the ground in uncontrollable spasms until he lost consciousness.

The second faceless man roughly picked up the unconscious pony by the tail and placing him in the sack before walking past the assembled men towards a waiting vehicle.

Satisfied that its point had been made, the great machine studied each of their faces once more. Pleased that it now had their undivided attention, it continued. “I see fear on some of your faces. Good, let that motivate you. Now like the HWS’s you’ll fight alongside, you too know the bitter truth. The only path to survival lies through victory. But fear not, with a monster like me on your side we will soon break their backs and crush their resolve. If you remember this and follow our battlefield doctrine, victory over them is guaranteed and your survival is assured. That is all, you’re dismissed.”

Watching the assembled men leaving, it noticed only a tiny fraction of the volunteers were making the decision to leave. The great machine looked at them enviously before leaving the parade grounds to resume its planning of the upcoming invasion.

*****

The towering metal beast looked down at the city standing before it. The city of Manehattan, though not as heavily populated as its Earth counterpart was still quite large as cities went. Delicate towers of stone and steel reminiscent of an early twentieth century skyline stretched out for kilometers.

It wondered how long building the great city had taken them, fifty years? One hundred? Looking to the east and then to the west, the monster could see its assembled horde of men and machines waiting for the signal to fall upon the city and utterly destroy it. Normally not one to wax philosophical about things, the iron beast wondered what the descendants of the survivors would say about what they were about to do.

Would they cry foul and say the attack was unprovoked and unjustified, that the inhabitants were innocents, and that the war was unnecessary. Or perhaps they would curse her name for bringing this ruin down upon their heads. What would the historians write about this day it wondered? Giving the signal to launch the assault, the towering giant pushed those meaningless thoughts a side. After it all those thoughts belonged to the realm of academia, and he was no scholar.

With a great metal roar, the man made metal moved forward on its giant treads flattening the earth beneath its great weight. In turn the other machines answered with their own twisted shrieks as metal ground against metal and earth and stone were crushed beneath their massive frames. Overhead machines made for speed, shook the ground as they flew over the city shattering glass as their sonic booms tore through the heavens. As they made their initial forward assault, the giant saw the residents that hoped to push back its fellow machines.

The colossus of steel almost pitied them. Their fleshbag bodies had never been designed for this kind of combat, yet here they were attempting to halt its armies advance. Using its advanced scanning abilities and linking up with the rest of the first wave, the machine now knew the battle space that lay 5 km ahead of it more intimately then even the lifetime residents of the doomed city. The defenders of Manehattan had approximately 38,847 ponies, which seemed to be an even mix of both unicorns and earth ponies. Not detecting any pegasi, the battlefield commander knew that they were probably hiding up in the cloud cover attempting to flank its army or preparing for an ambush.

The machine knew that in order to break the spirits of the Equestrians, a decisive first blow had to be struck. Manehattan, with a population of 1,243,512 was one of the larger cities in Equestria proper. While not as culturally significant to the ponies as say Canterlot or Fillydelphia, it was still an important port and trading hub. Its loss would be a crippling blow to both the Equestrian nation’s psyche and economy.

Linking up with its air command, the battlefield commander was pleased to see no extraequestrian species were present. The last thing its army needed to worry about was dealing with a few angry dragons and griffons, while it tested their unproven battlefield doctrines against the ponies’ magic.

Ah magic, now there was an annoyance if there ever was one. Flyers and sharp teeth the machine knew how to deal with, but magic was an unknown variable. It knew magic was capable of levitation, transmutation, teleportation, and possibly hundreds of other permutations. And apparently magical shields as well it noted, when it saw a pink shimmering bubble envelop the city.

Sending the signal for the forward lemming units to test their munitions against the magical barrier, the great beast called a halt to the main assault to slow their forward progression. The lemming units, or suicide squads consisted of humans and HWS’s considered expendable. Thought the humans didn’t know it yet, the beast was sure that the HWS’s moving forward knew that they were being sacrificed to test the machine’s hypotheses about the equestrian’s battlefield capabilities.

Though some might have balked at having to make such a morally questionable choice, the machine had made so many other similar choices recently that another was but a drop in the ocean. “Fire at will,” the machine communicated to the lemming units.

Immediately the lemming units closest to the shimmering magic bubble began unleashing hell on the shield covering the city. Everything from the humble rail gun, to flame throwers, and missiles were being fired at the barrier to no effect.

The purpose of this little test was twofold. The first was to make the defending equestrians think their magic would save them from their technology. With their over reliance on magic, the battlefield commander was sure it could leverage that to their advantage. The second was to test their untried battlefield doctrines. While having a relatively reasonable idea about how best to combat a unicorn’s magical ability and pegasi’s control over the weather, the machine still didn’t like going into battle blind. Then there were the earth ponies, of all the opponents they might face today they concerned it the most.

The unknown unknown, was probably the one thing that might endanger the success of this operation. For the unicorns, pegasi, and even the uncooperative humans under its command the machine had countermeasures in place to deal with those possible problems. But for the earth ponies and their unknown abilities it had nothing. As the machine tried scrying what possible tricks the earth ponies might have, the screams of the panicking humans in the lemming squads interrupted its contemplation.

The unicorns were using their telekinesis to throw heavy debris at the relatively fragile humans and weaker HWS’s. ‘Remember your combat doctrine!” the machine roared into the comms channel. “Remember the first rule of combating magic…”

*****

“The first rule to combating magic,” the machine rumbled, directing the assembled soldiers’ attention towards a frightened unicorn trembling in a cage, “is to remember, that it’s a tool that’s completely dependent on its user. Unicorns need to see in order to properly use their magic.”

Looking at the blue furred stallion in the cage, the machine pointed a metal claw towards two men clad in black armor. They approached the unicorn menacingly. Their faces were completely covered by impenetrable visors and each carried a cattle prod that evilly crackled with electricity.

“Please don’t hurt me again!” the unicorn begged, his silver eyes desperately searching for someone with a shred of compassion.

“You’ll be released unharmed if you can stop them,” the machine coldly replied.

The unicorn, having managed to learn a little magic, powered up his horn and tried to forcibly remove the cattle prods from the approaching men’s grip. But before he could snatch the weapons away from them, he found his vision obscured by thick smoke.

“See,” the machine rumbled to the assembled soldiers, over the screams of the stallion as he felt the cruel bite of the prods being placed against his bruised flesh, “though potent, magic can be overcome if you remember that its one weakness is its wielder, and use that to your advantage.

*****

“Prepare for obfuscation!” one of the smaller HWS gundam frame’s inside one of the lemming units said over the comms channel.

Immediately hundreds of smoke grenades were launched against the barrier, exploding in thick white clouds obstructing the vision of the defending ponies. Almost immediately, the debris being tossed at the lemming units was dropped. For the ponies behind the barrier, the machine imagined that it must be disconcerting to know that an enemy was there and not being able to see them. For the HWS’s and attacking humans it was a much different picture, thanks in part to their advanced technology. The humans were all wearing helmets with visors that would allow them to see in the infrared spectrum, while HWS’s like itself had the advantage of state of the art sensors along with the added benefit of being able to share their sensor data with each other.

Looking up at the heavily overcast skies, the battlefield commander growled in annoyance, the clouds in Equestria were nothing like those on Earth. They were nearly impermeable to all his sensors. Worried that thousands of pegasi were overhead waiting to launch a counter offensive, the machine ordered one of the HWS blimps to rise above the cloud cover to check for any hostiles.

Several minutes later the HWS replied over the comms channel. “Commander…” it said, “there’s no sign of pegasi within visual range. Unless they’re hiding inside the cloud cover itself, I can’t find see anything. Wait, I see…”

Immediately the communication was cut off as a huge explosion was heard overhead, followed minutes later as the fiery wreckage of the blimp fell from the sky towards the invaders on the ground below.

“Initiate evasive maneuvers,” one of the machine’s sub commanders shouted over the comms channel, “and active your electromagnetic shields!”

“Belay that order!” the battlefield commander said. “No shields.”

Calculating the trajectory of the HWS blimp falling to the ground, the machine determined it would hit one of the other Land Behemoths on their western flank. “All eastern and central units, open fire on the blimp with your anti-personnel weapons. Western units, move towards the city. Try avoiding the wreckage. Forward units watch the skies and prepare for ambush!”

As soon as the machine had given the order, the bulk of the army began firing their pulse and rail guns at the blimp, pushing it north of their position. Connecting to the HWS blimps and UAVs flying overhead, the machine saw that their battle lines had become dangerously weak especially along their western flank. Before the machine could order the western flank to reform, a massive tornado formed overhead touching down near the western units. Almost immediately the smoke cover hanging low over the magic shield began dissipating, giving the unicorns behind the barrier a clear view of the vulnerable humans and HWS’s near the impenetrable barrier.

“Damn it all to hell!” the machine cursed, angry with itself for having been caught flat footed by a bunch of fleshbag ponies. As the large category five tornado slowly approached the western flank, the machine attempted calculating a counter offensive. Using its sensors, the machine saw that the tornado contained nearly 10,000 pegasi inside. Though annoyed that it was now in danger of losing a good third of the forces committed to this assault, it couldn’t help but feel grudging respect for its wily opponents. Though it hadn’t wanted to reveal this countermeasure to the enemy just yet, the machine knew there was no other choice and spoke into the comms channel, “All air wings, initiate death by a thousand cuts…”

*****

“Dr. Moore, what countermeasures can you suggest in case of a weather attack by pegasi?” the machine asked a man wearing a white lab coat.

Dr. Jeffery Moore Ph.D. looked up from his workstation and gave the green holographic projection an excited look. The doctor was a world renowned geneticist of questionable ethics that had been provided to the operation to help develop technology to countermand the unique advantages ponies held over humanity, with the task of discovering ways of overcoming their magic abilities being his primary focus.

“I think I might have just the thing you’re looking for,” the doctor said, gesturing towards a monitor near his workstation. “Though we know very little about mechanics behind pegasi weather control abilities, the newfoals you’ve given my team has led to some interesting ideas. Perhaps granting me a few dozen equestrian raised ponies would make my work go faster…”

“That’s out of the question,” the machine replied, feeling disturbed at the thought of any of the ponies it had come to know in its old life being subjected to the doctor’s methodology. “You’ll work with what I’ve given you.”

“All right commander,” the doctor said, raising his hands in defeat. “Just don’t come crying to me when I don’t have the proper countermeasures developed in time.”

The projected hologram gave Dr. Moore a pointed look. “Doctor, you said something about a possible countermeasure for overcoming pegasi weather control?” the projection asked, folding its arms and tapping its right foot impatiently.

“Commander,” the doctor said, typing a few commands into his console and projecting a holographic sphere in the center of the room. “I call this the Whirling Dervish.”

“Dr. Moore, that’s all very interesting but how do you expect that to overcome pegasi weather control?” the commander asked.

“Each Whirling Dervish can hold up to 8 ounces,” the doctor explained, showing off the interior of the device. “We know that pegasi can create tornadoes and even possibly hurricanes, imagine launching these inside and then releasing their contents on the unsuspecting ponies?”

“Doctor, that’s an intriguing concept,” the projection said, “but the end results would depend on what liquid the dervishes contained.”

“Let me ask you this,” Dr. Moore said with a wicked grin, “are you familiar with what happens when you place something in a blender?”

“Very interesting, Dr. Moore,” the hologram said. “So what exactly will the liquid inside the dervishes contain?”

“Oh nothing much, commander,” the doctor replied, “just some specially designed nanites suspended in a liquid metal solution.”

“I take it that the liquid metal has some special purpose?” the machine asked, its curiosity piqued.

“Oh certainly commander,” Dr. Moore said, projecting an image of one of the tiny nanites on the screen. “The nanites are designed to use the liquid metal as they are expelled from the Whirling Dervish to form razor sharp spheres.”

“Will they be effective against pegasi?” the machine asked.

“I believe the results speak for themselves,” Dr. Moore said, nodding to one of his assistants. Directing the holograms attention towards a wall on the far side of the lab, he pressed a button that opened shutters on the wall to reveal a room with pink tinted walls. “Start the vortex generator.”

The commander looked at the room and saw the wind blowing up from the bottom started forming into a vortex. “Commander,” the doctor said, “we’re adding colored smoke to aid you in viewing the results. Release the nanite solution into the chamber.”

The hologram saw a light yellow smoke whirling inside the vortex, followed by a silvery blur which it assumed was the nanites in question. “Lower test subject number 47,” Dr. Moore said, pressing a button on his workstation.

The hologram watched as a large sheep about the same size as an equestrian pony was slowly lowered into the whirling vortex. The moment the sheep’s legs passed through the electromagnetic shield, it watched in fascination as the poor animal bleated in pain as it was slowly shredded into gory chunks by the tiny nanites whirling wildly about inside the vortex.

“Pretty effective, eh?” Dr. Moore said, running his finger against the blood splattered glass as the goat bleated its death cries. “You’ll find one whirling dervish should contain enough nanites to cover at least 100 cubic feet of displaced air. Though we have no idea how much air a pegasi could theoretically displace, judging by earth tornadoes about 10,000 whirling dervishes should be enough to give them a rather bad day if they decide to try making a vortex.”

“Have you tested it against a pegasi yet?” the machine asked, giving the blood soaked chamber a thoughtful look.

“Commander, I’m afraid not yet,” Dr. Moore said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the main event. “I didn’t think it was proper to do so without your express authorization, since we get so few ponies to work with.”

“Yes, we’ll need to test the weapons effectiveness first before we can use it in battle,” the hologram replied with a heavy sigh.

“Commander, I know just the pegasi to use too,” Dr. Moore said, scarcely able to contain his excitement at finally being able to test the weapon properly. “Send down test subject p28.”

Minutes later a black uniformed guard carried in a restrained and muzzled grey pegasus mare. When she saw the blood stained glass, she broke down into tears and screamed into her muzzle. Desperately she looked around the room, hoping to find anyone who still had a shred of compassion or empathy. The pegasi looked them each in the eye silently pleading for mercy, begging to be spared from her impending doom.

“Dr. Moore, should I sedate her?” the guard asked.

“No,” the doctor replied, “this will be an invaluable opportunity to see how a free flying pegasus handles the effects of the weapon. Place her inside the vortex chamber unrestrained.”

The guard withdrew a cattle prod and stunned the pegasus, sending her into spams. Satisfied the pony wouldn’t give him any trouble, the black armored guard released the mare’s restraints and muzzle before placing her inside the vortex chamber.

“Commander, we’ll start with just the vortex,” Dr. Moore said, activating the fans at the bottom of the chamber.

The mare’s golden mane blew wildly in the rushing air. Opening her eyes, the mare looked at the blood stained walls in terror. Realizing where she was, she pounded her front hooves against the unyielding glass in desperation. The machine looked into the ponies large golden eyes, and saw her pleas for mercy.

Dr. Moore, seeing that his test subject wasn’t flying yet, electrified the floor shocking the poor creature. The pegasus, afraid of receiving another dose of electricity, leapt into the air and pressed her hooves against the glass hoping against hope that someone would save her.

“Alright, now that test subject p28 is flying we can finally begin the test,” the doctor said with a grin, while slowly increasing the wind speed inside the vortex. “Once we hit about 80 knots per hour we’ll slowly introduce the nanites into the vortex.”

The mare desperately struggled against the whiling winds of the vortex chamber that buffeted her from every angle. With desperation, she tried bucking the glass to no avail. “Somebody, please help me!” she cried, as the wind clawed at her tear stained cheeks.

“Commander,” the doctor said, noting the vortex was now blowing at over 80 knots. “We’ll start with one nanite and slowly work our way up to a full 8 ounces worth.”

The hologram said nothing but continued looking at the pegasus, who was desperately fighting against the blowing winds. At first the machine wasn’t sure anything was happening, but slowly small cuts started appearing on the pony’s body. Slowly the vortex chamber filled up with a fine red mist as the pegasus desperately struggled to survive. The mare looked up at the unblinking hologram and closed her eyes, before her body went limp and began being knocked against the walls of vortex chamber.

Dr. Moore, noticing his test subject was now unresponsive turned off the vortex sending the pony crashing brutally into the floor. “Go and see if the subject is still alive,” he instructed the guard. “With any luck we might be able to reuse her for additional tests.”

The guard gently kicked the pegasi with his black boot, before placing his fingers against her neck as he checked for her pulse. The guard shook his head once, before reaching down and grabbing the deceased mare by the mane and roughly placing the lifeless corpse in a large black sack.

“That’s too bad,” Dr. Moore, said shaking his head slightly. “We could have used p28 in the munitions test, scheduled for tomorrow.”

“Well I suppose the weapon worked well enough,” the machine said, its voice flat and emotionless. “How many can you have ready by October 25th?”

“We’ll that timetable’s a bit tight,” the doctor said, rubbing his hand against his chin thoughtfully, “but I think we can have enough ready to equip at least 5,000 Hellkite’s.”

“Alright, send me a progress report when you have their initial manufacturing setup,” the hologram said. “Now you said you had something else to show me?”

“Ah yes, progress on potion R-71,” Dr. Moore said, delighted to talk more about his brilliant work. “I believe we’re about ready to initiate the first tests on newfoals. Let me show you what I think might be out most potent weapon yet…”

*****

“…initiate death by a thousand cuts,” the machine said over the comms channel.

Within thirty seconds the sounds of hundreds of HWS frame’s rocketed overhead, skirting the turbulence of the massive tornado releasing their payloads against the unsuspecting pegasi. As the HWS’s danced with the tornado that threatened to break the back of the expeditionary force, some of them were caught up by the winds and torn to pieces while others were heavily damaged by its flying debris. After the last HWS had managed to release its payload into the tornado, the battlefield commander initiated the weapon’s activation sequence. From within the tornado the shrieks and wails of thousands of dying pegasi cut through the air like animals being butchered.

Not even needing to use its sensors, the machine could see that the tornado was taking on a decidedly reddish tint. Activating its sensors, it could see the pegasi inside desperately trying to figure out what had just happened to them as they struggled to escape being cut to ribbons by their invisible assassin.

The unicorns and earth ponies stared at the blood fountain that was but moments before a pegasi created tornado, staring at the spectacle in slack jawed horror. Knowing that it was too late to save the western flank, the machine accessed the comms channel. “All forward units initiate protocol dazzler…”

*****

“Officers,” the machine growled, “what is the primary doctrine when combating magic?”

“Magic is only as strong as its user,” the assembled humans answered in unison.

“Very good,” the towering machine rumbled. “What is the secondary doctrine to fighting magic?”

“Magic users are unable to cast on what they can’t see,” the officers replied.

“What is the third?” the machine continued.

“Magic users can be disabled if you hit them correctly,” the men said.

“And where do we hit magic users?” the machine drilled.

“First the eyes, then the ears, and then press for the kill!” the humans shouted.

“Good, very good…” the machine said approvingly. “With a bit of luck, you lot might actually survive this campaign.”

*****

“…initiate protocol dazzler,” the battlefield commander rumbled, hoping to get some use out of its doomed western flank. Immediately, both the western flank and lemming units unleashed blinding lasers into the eyes of the defending unicorns near the front of the barrier.

The machine was pleased when it saw that the pink shield was starting to shimmer and fade in places. “Remember your doctrine!” the machine roared over the comms channel, as the lemming units and western flank directed ultrasonic weapons towards the unicorns sustaining the shield.

In addition to the stock rail gun each human soldier carried, the battlefield commander had issued them a powerful laser strobe and ultrasonic emitter as well. At 33,500 Hertz, each ultrasonic emitter was capable of generating sounds painful to equestrian ponies but inaudible to human ears. After extensive testing at Los Alamos on its newfoal ‘volunteers’, the machine had determined the precise frequency capable of causing maximum pain without causing permanent injury.

As the magical shield covering the city failed, the inaudible agony being made by the ultrasonic emitters reached the defenders ears. When the machine heard the ponies’ whines of pain, it knew that it was time. “Western units still capable of moving, press forward into the city. Forward units, engage the enemy for the kill,” the machine said over the comms channel.

The humans eager for some payback from earlier, rushed into the city to butcher the defenseless unicorns, while the HWS’s began picking off the unicorns further from the front with their laser strobes.

Surveying the battlefield, the commander noted that its initial estimate of 44% losses among the western flank had been overly pessimistic. Its scanners confirmed that the losses were no more than 15%, thanks in part to the tornado having lost most of its power and momentum from the dying and wounded pegasi inside it. The machine noted that the battle inside the city was beginning to get rather pitched as unicorns and earth ponies started launching ambushes on the lemming units.

Taking advantage of the western flanks position, the machine ordered them deeper into the city to help the lemming units. “All tanks and gundams lay down suppressing fire on their eastern flank,” the machine ordered, noting the geography of the city. “Diggers and infantry engage the enemy on their western flank and apply some pressure to them. Land Behemoth, prepare the path for the rest of the central and eastern units.”

The land behemoth sent its acknowledgment and started tearing down some of the largest structures with its claws. The battlefield commander feeling confident that the earth ponies were perhaps nothing more than super farmers, was about to give the command to the rest of the army to close in on the city. Before the machine could issue the command to move forward, the land behemoth cried out over the comms channel. “I’m sinking into the earth! The earth ponies are….” The land behemoth said, before being silenced by a large building falling on top of it burying it beneath tons of rubble.

The machine was seriously vexed. Including itself there were less than one hundred land behemoths in existence, their use as siege machines were invaluable and the loss of even one was irreplaceable. Without the land behemoth’s laser strobes, and multiple ultrasonic emitters, the lemming and western units were now in trouble as thousands of earth ponies caused tremors burying the attackers in debris and dropping the HWS’s into sinkholes. Meanwhile the unicorns having recovered from their stunned state, released their magic with a vengeance on the hapless humans and disabled HWS’s.

The battlefield commander quickly crunched the numbers and realized what needed to be done to prevent a rout. Although the loss of over 12,000 humans was regrettable, the loss of nearly 4,000 HWS’s was untenable. “All air wings get in there and barbeque the fuckers,” the machine said. “Infantry, take shelter if you’re able.”

“White phosphorus, are you sure?” the leader of the air wing asked. “We have a lot of men still alive down there.”

“I repeat, all air wings drop the hammer on their heads,” the battlefield commander ordered. “Central and eastern units prepare to engage the enemy.”

“You fucking monster!” a human shouted over the comms. “You’re going to kill them all.”

“The next flesh bag that speaks unauthorized over the comms channel gets a face full of potion,” the battlefield commander growled. “Save your anger for the ponies, they’re the ones who killed your friends.”

Moments later, the air wings began their passes over the battlefield dropping their payloads of white phosphorous on the heads of the unsuspecting ponies and terrified humans. Hearing the fleshbag screams of both human and pony alike, the machine moved forward on its massive metal treads. The machine, nearly as tall as some of the sky scrapers in the doomed city of Manehattan towered over the battlefield as it prepared to fire its entire arsenal. Bringing up a holographic map of the city, the machine began issuing orders to each unit and HWS as to the paths they should be taking through the city.

Relentless and without mercy the colossal machine tore through the battlefield, destroying buildings with its sonic cannons, and killing unicorns and earth ponies alike with its numerous pulse guns. The surviving defenders screamed as the wrathful invaders tore through the city destroying it as they went. Desperate to escape the slaughter, the surviving ponies broke ranks and fled the battle. The civilian population realizing that the defending army had failed to stop the machines and men, panicked as they fled the city hoping to escape with their lives.

Analyzing the battlefield, the machine realized that the battle had been won and now the secondary objective of the fight could begin in earnest. Razing the city and using the survivors to spread the tale of its destruction to the rest of Equestria. “All units withdraw from combat, and regroup with your squad leaders,” the machine ordered over the comms channel. Monitoring the angry chatter from the humans upset over not being able to continue the fighting, it issued a stern warning. “Failure to comply with this directive will be interpreted as a dereliction of duty.”

Once the humans heard the machine’s warning, they immediately ceased talking over the comms channel. “Gentlemen,” it said, attempting to salvage what little good will existed among the humans and the HWSs. “Excellent work out there today. For the duration of this engagement, concentrate on destroying any standing structures. You are to only engage the ponies if they become hostile, otherwise allow them to escape the city unharmed.”

Powering up its sonic cannons, the machine concentrated on destroying the foundation of a large tower that made up part of the conquered cities skyline. Connecting to one of the blimps flying overhead, he used thermal imagining and saw a steady stream of what appeared to be civilian ponies escaping into the countryside surrounding the city.

Issuing orders to the HWS heli units the steel colossus ordered them to buzz low over the terrified ponies herding them towards the south, safely away from the angry humans under its command. As the city emptied of its pony residents, he was relieved that this didn’t end up becoming a repeat of Operation Sword of Laban or Operation Black Stone.

As the machine resumed his demolition of the large tower, his mind wandered back towards her. What would she say if she knew what he had just done? Would she hate him? Would she despise him? The machine pushed the bothersome thoughts aside as it returned to its work of tearing down the building. Looking down at its treads, it saw the broken body of a pink pegasus mare near the building’s foundation. Gingerly picking up the corpse with his claws, the machine examined the pony as rigor mortis set in. He could see her now, broken and dead and it was entirely his fault.

He heard the faint whispering of her voice speaking into his mind, “Well today's a new day,” her voice softly echoed, before fading away, “if you choose to, you can start being a good pony.”

Carrying the remains with him, the machine exited the battlefield and watched as the mighty city was systematically erased. All over the empty battlefield, corpses of men, ponies, and the wreckage of irrecoverable HWS’s littered the ground forgotten and unmourned. He looked at the broken pony being held in his claws, and placed it gently on the ground. Using his claws, the machine dug a shallow grave and placed the corpse inside it. Covering the makeshift grave with earth, the machine left a tiny marker behind etched with two simple words. ‘I’m sorry'.

*****

The machine looked at the lush green fields surrounding it, and sighed. Once again it saw the ponies frolicking together, when it felt the clarion call to join them. As always, its metal frame prevented it from joining the pegasi, unicorns, and earth ponies as they played together. The machine’s great stature cast a long shadow over the ponies playing in the green field.

Looking up, the ponies all stopped as they stared in terror at the great machine staring down at them. “Everypony run for your lives, it’s going to kill us all!” they screamed together.

The machine stared at them confused by their actions. The dream was certainly different this time. “It’s all right,” a voice weakly said. “They just don’t know you like I do.”

Looking down the machine saw her looking up at him wearing the kind smile she always wore. “If they knew you like I do,” she said, placing a hoof gently against his cold unfeeling frame, “they would all want to be your friend…”

Gently picking up the frail pink pegasus with its metal claws, the machine felt regret. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I wish there was another way.”

“Oh silly, don’t be sad,” she said, struggling to speak and laying her head against his metal claw. “It’s such a beautiful day, I’m glad I got to spend it with you…”

All the machine could utter were the words, “I’m so sorry,” over and over again.

“Tinman, thank you for being my friend…” the mare said, closing her eyes for the last time and going still.

“Sugar Pie, wake up!” the machine shouted, refusing to face the truth. “Don’t leave me!”

The pegasus didn’t respond, offering him only the silence of the grave. Never before had the machine cursed his metal body as he did now. Slowly the blue skies overhead turned grey, followed by gently falling snow that covered his grieving form.

As the cold rime frost of grief and despair overtook his mind, the machine felt himself slowly fading away into oblivion. Grateful for the chance to stop feeling this bitter regret he held, he rocked her gently in his unfeeling claws speaking to her in a hushed whisper, “I’m so sorry. Sugar Pie, please forgive me…”

*****

Looking up, the battlefield commander saw that the sun was setting now. Although less than an hour had passed, the once great city on Manehattan was now nothing more than a smoldering ruin. The razed city would be a dire warning to all who thought they could blithely take from humanity without suffering any recourse. Looking down, it saw the shallow grave it had dug earlier. Without giving it a second thought, it left the makeshift grave behind as it prepared to regroup with its army in preparation of their next conflict.

As the setting sun cast its rays on the dark and mountainous form of the machine, a colt spared from the devastation wriggled free from the ruins of one of the buildings. Looking around at the desolation surrounding it, the foal cried as both hunger and despair overtake him. Desperately seeking his mother, the colt was only able to find a few pink feathers resting in the tracks that the giant monster had left behind. “Mother…” the colt whimpered, nosing the feathers desperately hoping to hear her voice once more, “where are you?” Only the lonely wind howling through the collapsed buildings answered his heartfelt pleas.

The swollen clouds overhead, finally release their stored water in a torrent of tears dousing everything. The foal, now bereft of its tears and soaked by the rain looked towards the heavens screaming, “Why?” before seeking shelter from the storm.

Looking down at the ruined city, the narrator walked past the broken heaps of machinery and lifeless corpses of both men and ponies. Above his head the inside out umbrella fills with water as it fails to protect him from the rain. Looking down at the makeshift grave, the narrator looks towards the city and shakes his head slowly before looking you in the eye. “Two little words, ‘I’m sorry’,” he says, while the rain pelts him. “The lament of a man made metal. They can make a man into a machine, but they can never fully remove the ghost from its shell. A lesson Tinman learned as he buried his regrets on the battlefield. File this one under ‘R’ for regret in “The Twilight of our Outer Limits.”

Authors Notes:

Thank you gentlereader for reading Chapter 3: Chapter 3: The Diabolical Machine; A Double-Edged Blade, an Instrument of Destruction and Regret of The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie. As always your comments, critiques, and discussion relevant to the story is always welcome.

My apologies for the meager breadth of this chapter. I originally had planned on presenting a much more detailed battle, including the logistics for sacking the city, but in the end decided that the storytelling was better served by telling everything from Tinman's point of view. Even with advanced scanners and air support flying overhead, the fog of war would still be rather prevalent and a concern for even future battles. Hopefully you found my presentment of the battle to be to your liking.

In chapter 2 several readers mentioned to me their concerns of the lopsided nature of pony versus technology, and were concerned that Tinman's army would grind them into dust. Contemplating how combat between these two vastly different factions might occur, took me some time to determine what would be the realistic capabilities of each. Hopefully I was able to satisfy you in that regard. Gentlereader if you feel that my portrayal of the battle was either unfair, lopsided, or unrealistic (well as unrealistic as cartoon ponies and cyborg battle tanks can be), don't hesitate to mention it in the comments. I look forward to seeing what kind of comments will occur between the pro pony and the pro tech readers, I only ask you to be respectful of each others opinions. we can disagree without being disagreeable.

Regarding Tinman I decided Io wanted to take him in a new direction. I wanted to show him in his true element, war. See if you can spot the storytelling mechanic I used regarding him.

Regarding the use of potion as a means of controlling unruly soldiers, some expressed their concerns with such tactics. I felt it added an interesting dynamic of Tinman versus the humans and HWS's under his command. Tinman not caring much for the people, decided to kill two birds with one stone. By using potion to pacify his men, he can control them if they ever decide to get out of line while simultaneously providing ponies to test his battlefield doctrine on without harming the ponies from Equestria or the newfoals who went to conversion bureaus. Hopefully you didn't find the scenes where they used the ponies to test too distasteful. I wanted to show the depths to which Tinman was subjecting himself to.

Just what's causing the visions Tinman is experiencing about Sugar Pie, and what might be her possible reactions to his behavior in Equestria? And what of Sugar Pie, her ponytar, and her HWS as she and her friends try to figure out what happened to Tinman? find the answers to all these and many more questions in the next exciting chapter of The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie.

Once again gentlereader, thank you for reading. Until next time!