The Conversion Bureau: The Big Lie

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!