Star Wars: Republic Commando: Brothers All

by TJAW

Rating: teen
Tags: Other, Romance, Princess Luna, Octavia, Comedy, Adventure, Crossover, Sex, DJ P0N-3, Human, Main 6, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 45573

Sev and another Commando escape a prison camp with the help of ponies, and struggle to find meaning.

IF YOU FAVE IT, LIKE IT!

A few days ago, RC-1207 "Sev" was pounding a Seperatist ship with Wookie turbolasers when he was overwhelmed. Now he's in a prison camp a few lightyears away. His cellmate is a male quadruped calling himself "Big Macintosh". He doesn't know where his brothers in Delta Squad are, or even where he is.

RC-1000 is the newest member of Tau Squad. Or was, rather. After the rest of Beta Squad was killed in action, he was assigned to Tau, who had just lost their own brother. They were tolerant but distant, and on his second mission with them the "new guy" got captured. Now he's sharing a cell with a female quadruped named "Octavia".

They're going to bust out. And as they try to adjust to the thought that they each might be the sole warrior on the planet, they will think more than a clone, even a commando, normally would. They will fight to defend their new friends. To defend aliens that care about them in ways they haven't experienced as mere soldiers.

Published 2012-09-14 08:34:01 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-13 05:23:56 UTC

1. Jailbreak

Mandolorian: “Bal’kote, darasuum kote
Jorso’ran kando a tome
Sa kyr’am Nau tracyn kad, Vode an”
Galactic Basic: “And glory, eternal glory
We shall bear its weight together
Forged like a saber in the fires of death, Brothers all”
- Ancient Mandolorian war chant

***
“Ugh… Fierfek.” Sev’s head was pounding. The last thing he remembered was… “Fierfek!” He remembered being cut off from his squad, surrounded by Trandoshan mercenaries and slavers after he helped to destroy a Separatist capital ship. He began to get to his knees, and he looked around.

He was in a normal-looking Trando prison cell. Granted, the only ones he’d seen before were specked with Trandoshan blood because he’d fought into them rather than out. It was hastily constructed, gray, ugly, fairly durable in general but also riddled with structural weak points. His armor was still on, although his backpack and weapons hung just outside the cell’s bars. Clearly the lizards wanted to add insult to injury.

Sev rolled over and pushed himself backwards, pressing his back against the wall. He eyed his heads-up display. The familiar icons that showed his squadmates’ formation were absent. He was cut off from them. The HUD also indicated that his health was less than optimal; it was orange.

He took another look at his cell, and saw that he was sharing it with what looked like some sort of livestock. It appeared to have a yoke around its neck, and was sleeping. The Trandos wanted to degrade him by keeping him with a farm animal.

When I get out, I’ll teach these lizards hospitality if it kills them, Sev mused. And it probably will.

That thought put a smile under his helmet. He looked at his left gauntlet, and realized the vibroblade was still there. He was armed and dangerous, even if the Trandos didn’t know it. He began to laugh; a few chuckles at first, but then a full-on half-minute of sociopathic mirth.

“Di’kute,” He concluded aloud in Mando’a. Morons.

The livestock stared at him quizzically.

Must’ve woken it up when I was laughing my shebs off a minute ago.

“Ah guess yer awake then,” The livestock spoke. Its voice was deep, and had a distinctive drawl he vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. What was important was that he was speaking Galactic Basic, with what sounded like a masculine voice. “Mah name’s Big Macintosh. Ya can call me Big Mac if ya want.” The apparently sentient being indicated itself with a foreleg, not sure if Sev understood him.

Sev contemplated giving his name. If he merely gave his designation, it would indicate he understood the occupant perfectly by virtue of using a common language. If he gave him his name, he could play the fear angle if he had to, provided his name wasn’t a word in his cellmate’s version of Basic. The commando knew that the unknown was scary, and so was he; put them together and you had a terrifying enigma.

He tapped his gray and red chestplate. “Sev.”

“Strange name, but ah guess ah won’t forget it. Nopony with that kinda name ‘round these parts. And ah reckon we’re not three miles from mah family’s farm.”

A Trandoshan slaver wheeled a cart through the hall and tossed in a couple loaves of bread before continuing past the cell. Big Macintosh took a loaf and left the other for Sev. His face was surprisingly expressive, and seemed to indicate that he wished to offer the other loaf for his fellow prisoner.

“Y’all’ve been out cold on that there floor since ya got here a couple days ago. Ah think you’ll wanna eat some o’ that bread. Don’t taste much, but it’s kept me full. Ah think ah’ll look away in case yer mouth is real scary, which yer voice sure makes me think it does; Celestia knows ah’ve had mah share of scary for the last four days.” Big Mac covered his eyes with his hooves.

Fine by me.

Sev removed his helmet with a hiss that startled Big Macintosh and bit into the bread. The alien was right, it tasted bland, only a bit better than the dry rations he normally ate in the field. Still, just chewing on it made him realize how hungry he was, so he noisily devoured the whole thing in a minute.

“Ah didn’t figure ya were that hungry,” Big Mac chuckled, still covering his eyes.

Sev smiled and put his helmet back on. The alien uncovered his eyes to see that the noisy eating sounds were just what he thought: eating sounds.

“Heh. Ya sounded a bit like mah lil’ sis Apple Bloom when ya ate.” The red alien sighed. “Mah family must be worried sick.”

I can relate.

A few hours passed uneventfully before Trando slaver sauntered past the cell, very close to the cell. Sev saw a chance and took it. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the reptile’s arm, pulling it close enough to grab hold of its skull and smash it against the vertical durasteel bars. He pulled a keycard from its neck and stuck it into the slot on the outside. The cage opened rather quietly.

Sev gathered his gear quickly, strapping on his backpack and belt, as well as holstering his DC-15/s sidearm and DC-17/m blaster rifle. Big Macintosh just stared at him, confused at the freedom suddenly before him. Despite his obvious fear, Big Mac stood close to Sev, understanding that the strange being might be his best chance to go free.

The commando saw a control terminal nearby and had one thought.

Jailbreak.

***

RC-1000, called “Coruscant” on account of the triple zeroes in his numerical designation, with 000 being the military designation of the Republic's capital, was not having a good day. Or a good week. Or even a good month.

The whole of Beta Squad, whom he had grown up with, had been wiped out with the exception of him. He’d been transferred to Tau Squad, or “Trip Squad”, as they were known, for three of the original members each having three instances of a number in their designation. He’d replaced a dead member of their squad, which had been together since birth just as Beta had been.

It didn’t help that his squad was quite different from theirs. Tau had some of the best Clone Commandos there were. They had dark colors painted onto their armor for concealment, they fought with ferocity and skill like no animal Coruscant could think of, were in touch with their Mandolorian heritage, and were a strange bunch.

Beta had been average, or at least as average as elite soldiers trained from birth could be. They had more conventional, if somewhat laid-back personalities compared to Tau. They’d never painted their armor, opting to keep it the silver-grey it had been issued in, and keeping it fairly clean. Not clean to the point of shimmering or being free of scratches and a few scorch marks, but to a faint metallic sheen; just a bit of shine.

They’d found to their pleasant surprise that the color and their more conventional personalities had allowed them to get along with normal clone infantry better than most commandos. This led to a higher amount of missions that involved directly supporting infantry by operating behind enemy lines than most other squads received. They had a positive reputation among the infantry, to the point where the claim that Beta Squad was in the area boosted morale. That popularity had led to many condolences when his squad was killed in a boarding operation.

Despite their differences, Tau accepted him into their squad, sympathetic to his plight, which they fully understood was magnitudes worse than the loss they had suffered. Still, he didn’t socialize with them much, nor they with him, and he kept his armor the way it had always been, partly to honor his fallen brothers and partly to retain that same ability to cooperate with infantry.

He’d been on Kashyyyk with Tau when they’d been advancing towards an objective with a score of Trandoshan mercenaries chasing them. As Coruscant brought up the rear, a thermal detonator caused a massive blockage of the path they were on, separating him from his squad.

After judging that the rubble was too thick to clear with what they had, Coruscant told them he’d “make the lizards work for it,” and that he’d regroup if he could.

He’d cut down nearly every one of the mercenaries when one of their heavies showed up, and incapacitated the weary clone.

When he’d woken up, his helmet’s chronometer told him he’d been out for two days. He was sharing a cell with a sentient female quadruped, who’d introduced herself as “Octavia”. He’d given neither his name nor his designation.

They hadn’t talked much in the few hours he’d known her, but he recognized her accent as one of the more generic types in the galaxy. She’d insisted it was a “Canterlot” accent, the same as someone named “Fancy Pants” had. Coruscant had no accent of his own, and it seemed he sounded normal to Octavia as well.

She also claimed to live in a nearby town, and that she was abducted near the “Everfree Forest” a few days prior.
Outside the cell, his equipment lay on a table. He knew Trandoshans were arrogant and cocky, but he’d never expected them to be this cocky.

The sun had set, ending his first conscious day in captivity, when the bars to his cell opened. It sounded like all of the cells on the block were opening in fact. He couldn’t tell, because the lights went out when the bars raised.

He rushed to his gear and slapped it on. At this point, the only illumination was the small blue lights from his equipment, and some electronics in the hallway. The display on his backpack and the blue light of his visor were most prominent among them. He activated the integral helmet mounted flashlight to help his cellmate see.

“Hey Octavia, you comin’ or what?” He glanced at her.

“You’re not going to try and escape, are you?” She looked scared to escape. Not out of attachment to her captors, but out of fear of their wrath. “Those lizards will murder us! I saw them fight bears and win!”

“I can assure you that they don’t pose a threat.” Coruscant drew his DC-15/s sidearm. He’d made personal modifications to the capacitor to allow the pistol to fire sixteen shots in a row instead of eight before having to recharge, increase the rate of fire, and increase the energy delivered by 20%. It was his preferred weapon for close-quarters, and for lower intensity fights where his DC-17/m rifle wasn’t necessary.

It was time for an inventory check. He still had 600 rounds for his rifle’s blaster attachment, courtesy of a modification that diverted excess power to refill his used clips. His sniper attachment had 30 shots, as he hadn’t used it at all during his last mission, and his anti-armor attachment was likewise at the maximum capacity of 4 shots. He had just restocked his grenade supply before being captured, and hadn’t used any. He was practically in mint condition as far as equipment.

He activated the low-light visor mode. The darkened area lit up, becoming an array of grays, whites and blacks.

“You’re… You’re a royal guard of some sort. You must be with that armor. Is that even armor? I haven’t seen you take any of it off…” Octavia placed her hoof on her chin, indicating contemplation as she spoke.

“Well, my experience isn’t so much ‘royal’. Or ‘guard’.”

Coruscant walked to a bacta dispenser and activated it. The healing substance was absorbed into his armor, soothing his wounds. He picked up the bruised and cut Octavia and gave her a spray with the machine, and although she struggled at first, the bacta quickly calmed her as her minor wounds healed. He put her back down, and saw her look over her mostly healed injuries in wonder.

Guess they don’t have bacta here. At least, don’t know about it.

“Just a quick slice…” Hacking was his specialty, his trade, his art; it was unusual for a squad leader to have that kind of specialization, but that left other specialties for his now-dead squad. He’d replaced Tau’s hacker, who was famous for his prowess. He couldn’t match up to the missing RC-1888 or the famous Delta Squad’s RC-1140, but he came close. And anything he lacked in hacking ability he made up for in technical and mechanical ingenuity. After a few seconds, he downloaded a layout of the compound. The stupid lizards had built the cell blocks next to the forest, with no guards on the other side and a thick wall separating them from freedom.

This day is turning around fast.

“Now what?” She asked. “You grabbed some odd objects and danced your fingers on a strange light. I don’t see what you’ve accomplished.”

Coruscant readied his pistol. “Shut up and get behind me… Ma’am.”

He heard the familiar growl of Trandoshan slavers behind him, and put himself between them and Octavia. The one in front got the first shot off, his ACP Array gun striking his shields for the most part, and kicking up a bit of concrete as some of the accelerated charged particles impacted between his feet.

Octavia yelped at the loud sound of the weapon’s discharge, and the impact of the energy it seemed to be firing. She’d never known of weapons like that, although she could only extrapolate that they were energy weapons from the way they seemed to act like the ones from science-fiction books she’d read as a foal. As they emitted sound and light, they lit up the hallway with their flashes.

The retaliatory strike was swift and precise. Coruscant aimed down his sights and put a bolt of plasma between the lizard’s eyes. He then fired several more shots at the advancing hostiles, dropping each of them before they could get off any more shots.

“Me: five. Trandoshans: zero.” The commando moved down the hall, beckoning the other captives, who seemed to be an identical or similar species to Octavia, although they had different markings, colors and hair. They obeyed, and followed him.

When he reached the end of the hall the captives began to panic. They couldn’t see much, and they were following the disembodied lights, that had led them. They began to mutter fearfully.

“Why are we stopping?” One asked loudly, unable to move further.

“Hold your rations, uh, whatever you are,” Coruscant shouted to them.

“We’re ponies, you dolt!” Octavia said.

Coruscant produced a demolition charge and placed it on the wall. After gauging the thickness using the explosive’s built-in sensors, he began arming the weapon, which took all of twelve seconds.

“Alright, everyone get back and cover your ears!” The ponies reluctantly obeyed. Coruscant produced a detonator from his belt. It was SOP to have the squad leader detonate them.

“Fire in the hole!” He mashed the big red button with his thumb, and the wall was blown outwards in a thunderous cacophony the likes of which the ponies had never heard, even at a Vinyl Scratch rave.

Switching back to his pistol, Coruscant checked for guards, and after finding none he indicated he wanted them to move out. “We’re clear, no hostiles! Go! Go! Go!”

The prisoners had never heard the word “hostile” used as a noun, but assumed it meant “bad guys.” They all fled in a single direction after looking at the moon, presumably to orient themselves. The night was still young, and it drizzled gently.

“Prey is escaping!” A slaver yelled from inside the building. The sound of multiple pairs of feet echoed through the hall and out into the forest. Coruscant threw a thermal detonator into the corridor, and saw it explode, taking the advancing slavers with it.

Satisfied with his rear guard action, he followed the freed captives. Octavia had fallen behind, and he could only catch up to her. They galloped through, and eventually out of the forest. Most of the ponies continued running for the nearby settlement, but Octavia collapsed from exhaustion upon reaching the end of the forest; she was one of Ponyville’s less athletic residents, and had just galloped for several miles non-stop.

Coruscant picked her up in his arms after holstering his pistol, and carried her towards the settlement. She was still panting loudly.

“Thank… You…” She said in between pants. “My house… Two stories… Near side of town… Lavender roof…”

Coruscant carried her for a few hundred meters more before she indicated she could walk on her own. He set her down, and she walked the rest of the way. Upon reaching the house, she retrieved a key from under the doormat using her forehoof, and used it to open the door, which had a ball-shaped knob. This perplexed the commando, who saw no visible means for them to manipulate objects.

Maybe they have limited Jedi-like abilities? Probably not.

***

Sev followed the sound of blaster fire and explosions, and Big Mac followed him. It seemed they’d just missed out on what could have been some good target practice, which disappointed Sev.

“Fierfek,” he muttered.

“Is that the only word ya know besides yer name?” Big Mac demanded.

“No. Which way to your farm?” Sev finally spoke in Basic.

“Ah guess ya can talk.”

“I like being scary, and speaking a different language makes me even scarier. Everyone fears what they don’t understand.”

“If it makes ya feel better, the fact that ya wanna be scary is a bit scary. An’ other’n that, ah hardly know a thing about ya. Jus’ follow me.”

“Fine, you’re on point.”

Sev readied his DC-17/m for any potential attack. He followed the stocky alien for ten minutes before he yelled for him to stop.

“Trandos!” He loosed blaster fire at the lizards, and they fired their weapons at him. One of the slavers charged at him with its knives drawn, and another followed suit.

When the first one tried to stab him, Sev grabbed its forearms and used its momentum to thrust the blades into its stomach. The lizard dropped dead, and the next one lunged at him. He punched him in the face, stunning him, and took him as a living shield.

He then fired several more bursts as his hostage prevented them from shooting him. After splattering the ground with the blood of Trandoshans, he used his gauntlet vibroblade to slit the still-living meat shield’s throat. He let the corpse slump to the ground.

“Kandosii. Glad I could get in some kills after all.” He looked at the shocked Big Macintosh. “You hurt or something?”

“Ya killed ‘em… Half a dozen, jus’ like they were nothin’.”

“I’m a Republic Commando. Killing bad guys is my job, and I’m very good at it. Those Trandoshan slavers and mercenaries? They’re scum. I’ve got a few hundred kills under my belt, and they make up quite a few.”

Big Mac sighed. “Ah seen what those 'Trandoshans' did to ponies. Ah wouldn’t ‘a killed ‘em, but ah reckon ya’ve got more experience with those lizards than ah do. If these things attack again, ah won’t be able to hold ‘em off without yer help. There’s a barn at the farm that has an attic we only use once every three months. Got a buncha dried apples up there fer ya to eat.”

“Sounds good. I’ll need a place to shack up.”

He led the commando to the farm, and the barn. Sev climbed the stairs to the attic, and shut the door behind him.

“Ah’ll bring ya somethin’ to sleep on tomorrow. I gotta see mah family. Ah won’t tell nopony ‘bout ya,” He said through the door.

“Appreciate it, Big Mac.”

Sev heard his host’s hoofsteps go down the stairs. He removed his helmet and backpack, and moved a sack of dried apples to cushion his head as he lied down.

Thank the Force they finally made this armor comfortable to sit or lay down in.

With that thought he fell asleep. A real sleep this time instead of the unconsciousness he’d experienced before.

***

“Vinyl, I’m home!” Octavia shouted as she cantered in.

Coruscant heard hooves frantically clopping down the stairs, and saw a white and blue blur tackle Octavia as he closed the door. He immediately drew his pistol on instinct, until he saw what was going on.

The white and blue blur was a mare wearing some sort of purple eyewear, and she was gleefully crushing Octavia in a bear hug. He put the pistol back in its place.

“Octy! I was so worried! I thought something bad happened to you!” Her voice was without an accent, and a bit deeper than Octavia’s.

“Vinyl! Can’t- Breathe-” Octavia struggled to say. Her violet irises contracted and her eyes bulged a little. It was quite comical to Coruscant.

Vinyl released her and realized how bruised and malnourished Octavia was. Her glee turned to rage. “Who the buck did this to you!? I’ll kick their flanks so hard they’ll have to unbutton their collars to shit!! I’m gonna put their head in a vice and crush it like a melon!”

Vinyl punched a white wall to her left as hard as she could for emphasis, but when her hoof connected with it, it hurt more than she expected.

“Ow, buck! Since when are our walls that hard?”

Octavia suddenly looked nervous. “Um, Vinyl?” She pointed to Coruscant.

“Vampire! I’ll get my Deagle with the silver bullets! Don’t die!” She ran upstairs.

“What.” Coruscant said. It wasn’t even a question, because he didn’t think there was an answer. It was a statement expressing his confusion at the strangeness that had ensued since he entered the building.

Maybe there’s something in the water supply. I should probably stick to drinking recycled urine.

“Vinyl, wait! Silver bullets are for werewolves!” Octavia yelled. “You’re supposed to use crossbows on vampires! And it’s not a vampire!”

“Then I’ll use my all-purpose bullets! They’ve got silver, water, wood, fire, holy water, toothpaste, the magic of friendship, the power of love, Kryptonite and the color yellow in ‘em!” Vinyl yelled from a room upstairs

“But the order hasn’t gotten here yet! And I don’t think it’s any of the things they’re supposed to be effective against. Besides, you lost the Deagle at one of your parties!”

Coruscant slapped the front his helmet with his right hand. “You realize I’m not a monster, right?”

A gasp came from upstairs. “I’ve got this! Don’t worry, buddy!”

The next thing he heard was a dragging noise. The source was Vinyl, who was pushing a cardboard box full of large black discs.

“Eat bad music, monster!” Vinyl shouted. She began hurling the disks at him.

“Hey! Cut that out!” Coruscant yelled, pointing a finger at Vinyl.

“I won’t let you hurt my friend!” Vinyl rushed downstairs and grabbed Octavia in a protective hug.

“Vinyl, it’s not going to hurt anypony! I shared a cell with it, and it helped me escape!”

“Say what now?” Vinyl released her friend and her face gained a vacant, confused look, her mouth slightly agape.

“Look, you’re my best friend, and I know you just want to protect me, but could you stop being such a bloody idiot!? I thought unicorn ponies had more sense than this!” Octavia was seething, her face red. “Clean up this mess, and I’ll tell you what happened! Savvy?”

Octavia let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry about her. She’s really a good mare, but she’s… Excitable. And addicted to Creature energy drinks. And somewhat damaged by years of drug abuse. And crude, and a slob, and lacking in musical taste. But she’s still my best friend… Would you like some tea?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Take a seat, then.” She pointed to a couch in the next room, and he sat down on it, thankful for the fact that all Katarn armor had been modified for improved ergonomics. He sat straight up so that his backpack would barely touch the rear cushions.

The room had ancient-style paper books on wooden cases and slightly less ancient electronics. He began to think that he may have been the first person in the Republic to actually be on that planet. Their society seemed technologically primitive by modern standards; even 4,000 years ago space travel had been common throughout the galaxy, and judging from the stars’ positions he wasn’t more than a few light-years from Kashyyyk.

“I hope the rest of Tau is okay,” He said to himself.

Octavia came in with what looked like a pastry of some kind and sat down next to him. “What was that?” She asked politely, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

“Nothing. Just remembering.”

2. Introductions

Author's Note

Whoops, accidentally clicked the unpublish button on this chapter, so I had to republish it. My bad. :twilightsheepish: - May 28, 2014

2. Introductions

“An army of one man, but the right man for the job.” – Popular clone trooper saying

***

Sev awoke to the sound of hooves climbing stairs. He put on his helmet, slapped on his backpack, and grabbed his DC-17/m. He then scrambled to hide behind a large crate. That covered the three possibilities that had come to mind in the first second he spent awake.

Okay, three possibilities. One: it’s Big Mac and I’m just practicing. Two: it’s somepony else, and I’m as hidden as I can get. Three: a trespasser is about to meet a very timely end.

“Sev, ah got ya a bedroll an’ a pillow.”

The door opened, and hoofsteps sounded. It was just the one set, so Sev moved from behind his cover and holstered his rifle. Big Mac dropped the items on the floor, and Sev rolled them out for future use. The bedroll and the pillow were both quite fluffy, enough so that he wouldn’t even need to remove his armor because it would practically suspend him in a comfortable position.

“Thanks. We need to come up with a duress word or phrase, though.”

“A what?”

“Let’s say that some bad guy forces you to show them where I am, and they’re following you up. You use the duress word in a sentence and I’ll immediately know that there’s a bad guy.”

“Huh. Clever.”

“Not really, it’s SOP to try and set up a warning system when you’re staying in a single area. The duress word has to be a word or phrase that can be slipped into a sentence without drawing attention.”

“How ‘bout ‘Just warnin’ ya, it’s musty up there’?”

Sev clapped his gloved hands together. “Perfect. Now I just need something to do. It’s bad form for a commando to lay idle if they can avoid it. Literature, puzzles, games, work; it all helps keep the mind and body sharp.”

Big Mac looked downwards, a pensive look decorating his features. “Ah’ve got a few books ah could lend ya. Mostly history books and some Darin’ Do books mah marefriend recommended.”

“I’ll take ‘em. Any of the books about warfare and tactics?”

“What? No. Equestria ain’t seen war in a thousand an’ two years. We’ve got royal guards to fend off criminals an’ monsters, but no war.”

Sev sighed in disappointment. “Fierfek, so much for studying my hosts’ progress on my art. I guess I’ll just take whatever you’ve got, then.”

“Ah’ll have em to ya by nightfall.”

***

Coruscant awoke on the same couch he’d sat on the last night. What had specifically awoken him was the sound of tapping on the outside of his helmet. He opened his eyes to find that something white, horned, and of respectable size was poking at his armor.

“Hey, robot dude. You awa-”

Coruscant’s reflexes kicked in before he could even think. He drew his pistol with his right hand and grabbed the unicorn’s throat with his left, holding her against the wall and pushing the barrel of his DC-15/s sidearm into her soft belly.

“Calm the buck down!” She choked out.

Realizing what he’d done, he let her down, placing her back on the ground.

“Don’t startle me like that, please.”

The unicorn rubbed her throat where it had been squeezed. “Definitely won’t happen again. Name’s Vinyl Scratch by the way. I don’t think we were properly introduced last night, what with me throwing records at you.”

Coruscant looked around. “Where’s Octavia?”

“Oh, she’s at work. She plays like, a zillion instruments; violin, cello, double bass, and some others. She’ll probably be explaining that she was abducted, like all those other ponies.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Besides her telling me? I DJ at the only nightclub in Ponyville, so I hear a lotta shit. Must’ve been like, two dozen ponies in those monsters’ prison camp from what I heard. Everypony who came in was talking about some gray ghost with blue eyes that helped them escape, and the freaky lizard-monsters that foalnapped them. Now if you’ll excuse me, you’re sitting in my spot, and I’m kinda tired.”

The commando stood up and walked into what looked like a kitchen, while Vinyl laid down on the couch and drifted off. Her eyewear fell off as her lids drooped shut over their large crimson irises. She began to breathe softly.

Coruscant opened a refrigerator and took out an apple. He removed his helmet and ate the fruit, throwing the core away before getting another and repeating the process. He shut the fridge and put his helmet back on. It had been one of the better meals he’d eaten, definitely better than the tasteless, textureless dry ration cubes he and other commandos usually subsisted on in the field.

The next thing he did was explore the residence. “Always study your area of operations.” He remembered his instructor, Carth Radek, had told his training company. “Know every little thing you can about where you are. Know their culture and language, to understand how they think. Learn their terrain and weather, to deny your enemy the home field advantage. Memorize their tactics and equipment, to know how they fight.”

Downstairs there was the living room, a bathroom, two closets, a pantry, a kitchen, and an entrance hall with stairs that pointed straight to the door. Taking the stairs up, he found another three bedrooms, one to his left, one ahead and one to his right, starkly different from each other.

The one on the right was messy, and had alternating white and blue vertical stripes on the walls. It was filled with wrappers, disks, electronics and half-eaten food; the adjoining bathroom was in a better state, but still disorganized.

Alien self-care habits didn’t concern him unless they were a potential assassination method. He shut the closet after making sure everything was as he’d found it. He didn’t want to offend his hosts by invading their privacy, but he’d rather know what his current residence was like.

The other bedroom, on the left, was tidy and fresh-smelling, decorated with pictures of musicians. The walls were painted a calm lavender. There was a rack that held several wooden objects with strings, which Coruscant assumed to be musical instruments. One was missing, which must have been the instrument Octavia had taken to her work. In the closet was a rack of small pink bowties and white collars, as well as a few other garments. Once again, one of them was missing, also taken to work. The bathroom was organized, with several different containers of colored, scented liquids adjacent to the rather large combination shower/bathtub. Probably for hygiene.

There was a third bedroom, straight up the stairs, mostly empty, with a similarly empty bathroom. The walls were white, the bed was fairly large, and the closet large enough to hold one’s arms out and spin without worry of striking anything.

I guess I could hole up here.

Coruscant stared out a window, at the busy market nearby. He took note of the goods they sold, the materials they used in their structures, everything.

But what struck him most was how different they looked. Not how different from him they were; he’d seen his fair share of alien species, and killed most of them, but mostly aliens looked similar to the members of their own species. One possible exception was humanity, but most of the non-clone humans Coruscant had seen were Jedi, which gave him a limited group to judge.

He was riveted. They were all ponies, the same basic species; yet they were all so different. They all had features that looked similar; not the same, but similar. They were different sizes and ages too. To someone who had grown up around people who were almost always visually identical, it was an alien feeling to him.

He had seen diversity in training manuals. He knew what alien species looked like. But the images always had that same context; what weapons they carried and where to aim a shot for the best results. This was the first time in his life he had really seen a diverse species.

Perhaps, to non-clone humans, he was unique.

After hours of just watching the ponies through the window, somepony began to knock on the door, and Coruscant hid. He didn’t need to be told that he needed to keep a low profile. He silently chastised himself for just staring out the window; he could’ve been seen!

He pressed his backpack to the wall and drew his sidearm. He set the weapon to “stun”, which actually required more power than the default “kill” as a result of the modifications he’d made to it.

“Vinyl, I’m back.” It was Octavia’s voice. The pistol slid back onto the magnetic strip on the left side of Coruscant’s hip.

A loud yawn came from downstairs, and hoofsteps approached the door. The door unlocked and opened, then closed and relocked. More hoofsteps.

“Why’re you back so early?” Vinyl asked, groggy from being woken up. “It’s only 4 PM. Don’t your sessions usually go ‘til 7?”

“Everypony who was foalnapped has the week off it seems. Tomorrow, a contingent of Royal Guards is going to arrive to investigate the disappearances. Some of them will be staying until the problem has been resolved.”

Coruscant stepped into the open and walked down the stairs. The ponies smiled at him. He wondered if they still would have done that if they knew he’d rummaged through their things.

“Oh, hey robot guy,” Vinyl deadpanned. She stared at his visor, the ghostly blue glow it emitted mesmerizing her.

“Come, sit down.” Octavia beckoned him into the living room. “You know, I’ve known you for almost two days and I don’t know your name. Or even what you are, for that matter.”

Coruscant sat down on the couch after closing the curtains on the windows for privacy. He could’ve sworn a mint green unicorn mare saw him, but he chalked it up to nerves.

“Your name, dude.” Vinyl breathed on her glasses and rubbed them against her fur before putting them back on.

He unsealed his helmet. The ponies flinched as the suit hissed from the slight decrease in pressure. Removed, it revealed a face completely alien to them.

“I'm RC-1000. I’m a human male; specifically a clone of the bounty hunter Jango Fett. I’m a commando in the Grand Army of the Republic. The GAR consists almost entirely of millions of clones like me, all of them cloned from the exact same genetic template, although most of them are infantry. While I am identical on a genetic level to other clones, as a commando I’ve been given specialized training, weapons, armor, and equipment befitting my elite status.”

“You’re… A soldier?” Octavia seemed worried, and leaned almost imperceptibly away from him. Likely a subconscious action, but Coruscant noticed it anyways.

“My particular specialty is hacking, although I’m also highly proficient in demolitions, sniping, reconnaissance, field medicine, sabotage, and assassination. Commandos work in squads of four, and said squads are trained from birth together. I was originally a member of Beta Squad - I was their sergeant - before they were killed in action while we boarded a Confederacy vessel; I watched them die, and I had to finish what was left of the mission alone. I was then reassigned to Tau Squad, who had recently lost a brother, leaving a spot open. I was operating with them on the planet of Kashyyyk when I was cut off from my new squad, and was forced to try and hold off a seemingly endless tide of Trandoshans. They overwhelmed me, and I woke up in captivity on this planet a few days later. The rest you know.”

Octavia fainted, and fell on the floor, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Vinyl just looked at him, staring curiously at him. He put his helmet back on, but it still didn’t stop the discomfort her gaze caused. She looked away and walked over to Octavia’s limp body, poking her face. Her eyes began to open.

Vinyl and Coruscant both looked down at her as she stared back up at them.

“Yo, Octy. You okay?” Vinyl asked.

She opened her eyes, and her features were consumed with rage. “Oh, bloody Tartarus! I’m housing some violent alien brute with elite training, and I can’t get rid of him because nopony has spaceships. Ugh!” She trotted upstairs in cold anger. “Stupid sci-fi books, making aliens seem so friendly. Stupid cloning technology; I bet all the humans I’ll see will look the same as him. Stupid aliens, coming to our planet.”

A door slammed upstairs, presumably to Octavia’s room.

“Well that could’ve gone better,” Coruscant said.

“Yeah”. Vinyl chuckled. “So, where’re you crashin’?”

“Come again?”

“Y’know, sleeping?”

“Oh. Well, I saw an empty room upstairs with a bed. I was thinking I could stay there for the time being.”

“Cool. I’ll hook you up with some TV and internet later.”

***

Sev hated this waiting. Nothing but sitting around, idle. He’d disassembled and reassembled his DC-17/m a few times, to make sure it was in working order and to kill time. Then he’d done the same thing with his DC-15/s sidearm. Then he’d had lunch; a handful of dried apple chips with cinnamon flavoring.

The longer he waited, the more edgy he got. He began to watch the family who used this farm. They seemed fairly different in appearance, nothing like clones. It reminded him of the counter-terrorist operation his squad had pulled with Omega back on Coruscant; civilians going about their lives, blissfully ignorant of the hardship and struggle across the galaxy.

Night fell, and Sev was asleep again.

***

Big Macintosh was carrying the load of books he’d promised Sev. If he could keep a violent alien occupied, and away from prying eyes, then he was satisfied. The literature was in a large brown bag, a stereotypical farm sack, slung across his back.

He walked towards the barn, determined to carry through with the delivery he’d promised Sev. He wasn’t the Element of Honesty and his cutie mark was already there, but he considered himself dependable when it came to carrying through with any promise he made.

As he walked, his ears caught a familiar sound. It was like a gust of wind, followed by wings flapping quietly. Not an owl, maybe a bat or a nocturnal bird. It was the stifled giggling that gave her away. But he didn’t react fast enough.

A cyan and rainbow streak tackled him from behind. The sack of books fell to the ground as he play-wrestled with his marefriend for a few seconds, before leaving her on top.

“Hey Dash,” He drawled.

“‘Sup 'Tosh? Got ya again, didn’t I?” Rainbow Dash asked with a grin.

“Ah was about to turn ‘round when ya got me. What’re ya doin’ here?”

“I wanted to check up on you, since you just got back from that escape last night.” She looked at him seductively. “You know that thing I wanted to do? In the barn?”

“S-sure. Jus’ lemme drop off this bag of, uh, apples in the attic.” He began to sweat, and turned around after grabbing the bag with his teeth. If Applejack’s lying was as obvious as an octopus eating an elephant, his was as obvious as the scorching sun had been during his and Dash’s fateful trip to Prarieville.

Please let her buy it.

She didn’t.

***

Sev awoke half an hour after falling asleep, according to his helmet chronometer. The sounds that stirred him were hoofsteps on the stairs up. He also realized that he’d slept with his backpack on.

About time.

“I ain’t a featherbrain Tosh, I can tell those are books in that sack, not apples. You lie even worse than AJ!” A dry female voice laughed.

Company. Damn.

“Ah, uh, lost a bet and uh… Ah need to drop off what ah lost in the attic. The fella ah lost to ‘ll pick ‘em up later.”

The female voice was trying to hold in a laugh. “Pshh. You can’t lie to save your life. Hey, those are the copies of Daring Do I lent you! Aaand some other stuff that I don’t care about.”

“Ahm sorry, Rainbow, ah’ll getcha some new copies.”

Some quiet, unintelligible speaking from the female voice.

“Just warnin’ ya, it’s musty up there.”

The duress phrase. Wait, weren’t those the books he said his marefriend recommended? Oh, she’s his marefriend. Got it. Intimidate if necessary, avoid lethal force.

The door opened, and the bag of books hit the floor. Macintosh grunted as he dropped the heavy load.

“Seriously, 'Tosh. What the hay’s up here?”

The sound of flapping wings caught his attention, growing ever closer.

Come on. Nothing’s up here. Turn back.

The wings flapped harder, and Sev looked left to see that he’d been spotted.

“'Tosh, monst-”

“Fierfek!”

Sev’s weapons were holstered, but while he was going for nonlethal, he didn’t need them. He was a weapon. He sprung up, grabbed the mare by the jaw to stop any noise, covered her mouth with his right hand, and pinned her against the wall. She struggled, flapping her wings and flailing her legs, but it didn’t faze him in the least. The look in her eyes during those first ten seconds went from shock to aggression to quiet resilience as she calmed.
“
Sev! Let her go!” Big Macintosh barked.

Sev dropped her, and she landed on all fours. Steam came from her nostrils as she stared up at him, angry.

“Cool it. I’m not going to hurt you,” Sev told her.

She didn’t seem to believe him. “Sure seemed like you were trying.”

He leaned over toward her and gazed at her through his visor, the ghostly blue contrasting the blood red in a frightening manner. His left arm was closest to Rainbow Dash, and the same fist clenched as the wrist-mounted vibroblade extended in the blink of an eye. “If I wanted to hurt you, you’d be screaming by now.”

“You wouldn’t be the first thing to try.”

“I’d be the first to succeed.”

“That’s what the ones before you probably thought.”

“Yeah? How many of them did you kill?”

Dash was astonished. Had this thing just asked if she’d ever killed? She stepped back a bit, trying and failing to hide her fear of the warrior. She liked action movies, but she didn’t know if she actually had it in her to kill.

Big Macintosh put himself between them. “Both o’ y’all cut it out now!”

He looked at Dash, an apologetic tone permeating his voice at first. “This is what ah was hidin’ from ya. He’s the reason ah escaped. Heck, he’s the reason all the ponies escaped from their cells! An’ those lizard things that captured everypony in the first place woulda killed me if he hadn’t distracted an’ killed ‘em first. Ah owe him mah life, an’ ah’m lettin’ him stay here for now. But ah’m keepin’ him secret, seein’ as he’s an alien an’ all. Ah’d appreciate it if you did the same.”

Rainbow Dash’s jaw dropped a distance that would make Pinkie Pie proud. Standing before her was an alien warrior who single-handedly released the ponies that had flocked back to Ponyville.

“Well to be fair, I only opened their cell doors.” Sev admitted. “Someone else led the others out, Macintosh and I just followed the sounds of blaster fire and an explosion. I’ve got the idea that there was another commando, but it’s probably something else. I did kill a guard through the bars without using a weapon, and Big Mac can attest to me killing six on my own. But those were just slavers, and the layouts I gathered from their network suggest it wasn’t a self-sufficient camp; there must be larger ones out there.”

“That’s a scary thought. I think you should talk to my friend Twilight about this, she can get you in touch with our Pri- Leaders, and you ca-” Rainbow Dash was cut off.

“No way, ah don’t think that springing this on her outta nowhere ‘ll do anypony good. We’ll keep him a secret fer now.”

Dash sighed. “Okay, 'Tosh. Sev, I’m sorry about earlier, but I’d like to hear about what you do later.”

“Sure. Drop by during the day, and say it’s you. Big Mac’ll tell you about the duress phrase. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

The couple left, leaving the commando to read to his heart’s content.

***

After moving them from her room, Vinyl showed him how to use his computer, TV, and video game consoles. He caught on quick, which made sense considering he was learning to use older tech rather than newer tech. His datapad could connect to the internet, which was convenient. He’d been wearing his helmet the entire time, partly out of paranoia

It was just after dark when a knock came on his door.

“Come in.”

Octavia entered and sat down next to him.

“I just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. Thinking back on what you said, it’s not as though you had any choice in your line of work. And losing the only family you ever knew, watching them die… That’s horrible beyond words.”

“Thanks. Most civilians in the Republic see us as mindless drones, when every clone is still a unique person with human emotions. Although given our nature I can understand how the galaxy sees us that way; millions of men, all of them alike in appearance and purpose.”

“And you don’t resent the Republic for what they’ve put you through?”

“Not at all. We help protect the trillions of citizens of the Republic from the Confederacy of Independent Systems. They need us, and we need them.”

“Do you all sound alike, too? You don’t seem to have any accent; you could pass for a local if you were a pony. Everypony can tell I’m from Canterlot though.” She chuckled at that, and her laughter made Coruscant smile, though he didn’t know why.

“No, oddly. A lot of clones lack the accent that our template had, and our voices vary significantly.”

Silence pervaded the room for several seconds.

“I have to speak to the Royal Guards who are arriving tomorrow. They’re investigating the disappearances, and setting up a small outpost near the town. It’s long overdue anyways, what with this town being so close to the Everfree Forest. What should I tell them about the escape?”

Coruscant thought for a moment before responding. “Tell them the truth. A mysterious figure, whose name you never found out, shared a cell with you. After the bars opened on their own, it gathered some items and led the ponies out to freedom. Said creature identified the species guarding them as Trandoshans, slavers specifically. Just don’t tell them I’m here, alright?”

“If you say so, Mr. RC-1000.” Octavia began to walk out.

“That’s my designation, not my name.”

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “What is your name then?”

“They call me… Coruscant.”

3. Insects, Interviews, Predictions, and Pursuit

You never have perfect knowledge in combat, gentlemen. It's what we call the fog of war. You can either sit around worrying what's real and what's not, or you can realize that the enemy hasn't got a clue either and fire off a few rounds of psychology. A truly great army is one that only has to rattle its saber to win a war.
- Sergeant Kal Skirata, Cuy'val Dar

***

“State your name please,” The captain of the Royal Guard began formally. He wore his red dress uniform for this investigation, although his armor and spear were ready in the next tent over. The camp was composed of a dozen or so large tents, and was filled with several dozen Royal Guards.

“Octavia Melody.”

“Occupation?”

“She’s a musician,” Twilight Sparkle said to the captain. She was assisting her brother in the interviews, her knowledge of the town and its inhabitants proving invaluable.

“Miss Octavia, could you describe the circumstances under which you were abducted?”

“Last Saturday, I was walking along the edge of the Everfree forest. I do that when I’m looking for inspiration for the music I write myself, and I found it when I was kidnapped.”

“Describe the attackers.”

“Bipedal, reptilian, plantigrade legs. Yellow clothes, strange weapons; one of them hit me and knocked me out. When I regained consciousness, I was in a cell of some sort. After the second day began, they threw in a cellmate, who was unconscious for two days.”

“Ponyville resident?”

“No. He… It was vaguely similar in build to the attackers, but unmistakably different. Silver-white for the most part, with some black parts. It came to in the morning, and after talking to itself, it began to converse with me in perfect Equestrian. No accent whatsoever. It identified my captors as ‘Trandoshans’.”

“Could you spell that?” Twilight requested.

“No, it didn’t bloody write it down.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. That night, the cell doors opened inexplicably, and after gathering items that seemed to have been confiscated from it, it began to lead me and the other ponies to freedom. It effortlessly killed five attackers with one of its weapons, and took hits from them after placing itself between them and the ponies; it ignored the injuries it should’ve taken as some sort of blue magical field that enveloped its body stopped them less than an inch from its body.”

“A ward maybe?” Twilight noted.

“After killing the attackers, it took us to the end of a hall, and placed an object on it. After fiddling with it, it told us to get back and cover our ears. Not all of us did. The wall disappeared a cacophonous blast unlike anything we knew. It peered out the hole it had made, and instructed us to flee, saying that there were ‘no hostiles’. So we fled. That was the end of it, thank Celestia.”

“Thank you for your time, Miss Octavia.” The mare left the tent.

“That’s everypony who was foalnapped,” Twilight said, checking off her name on a list. She looked up at her brother. “So, what do you make of this?”

Shining Armor slumped backwards and sighed. “I think we’re dealing with beings not of this world.”

Twilight chuckled and punched her brother’s shoulder, prompting a smile from him. “You’re just being melodramatic. They’re probably just from the unexplored parts of the world.”

“Or they came from the world beneath us! Oo-oo-ooh, hollow Equis theory!” Shining began to laugh with his sister.

***

Octavia opened the door to her house to find Coruscant lying on the floor, a smile on his face. Vinyl stood over him, snickering.

“What happened?” Octavia asked. She got no answer, and after recognizing the grin on his face, she facehoofed. “You gave him one of your banana milkshakes didn’t you?”

She smiled and nodded. Not a pony alive could stay on their feet after finishing one of Vinyl’s infamously delicious milkshakes for the first time, with the possible exception of Princess Celestia, and Vinyl was of the opinion that the Princess was afraid to try them for fear of giving an opening for another coup attempt.

Coruscant finally got up and put on his helmet after he heard a familiar sound. The beating of wings. Insectoid wings.

Geonosians?

He peered out the window to check his hunch. It wasn’t Geonosians, but they definitely resembled them. What was more, they seemed to be fighting ponies armed with spears. The commando drew his DC-17/m rifle and turned to look at the ponies cowering behind him.

“Care to tell me what those things are?”

“Changelings!”

He looked back out the window, and saw the Royal Guards being overwhelmed. After sighing, he looked back at Octavia and Vinyl. “Do you have a back door? I’d rather not give away that you two are keeping me here, it probably wouldn’t go over well.”

They shook their heads.

“Side door?”

Vinyl pointed to one, and Coruscant rushed to it, slamming the door shut as he closed it behind him. He was in the space between his hosts’ house and the next house, and he peered out of it. The changelings were focusing on a diverse-looking group of mares, and a few Guards who were still holding out.

The bugs were bunched up, practically begging him to use explosives, but friendly casualties were a possibility if he used thermal detonators or sonic grenades.

Flashbangs it is.

He tossed a flashbang between the two groups of ponies and looked away. A deafening blast was quieted to a mild roar by his helmet, and when he looked back, the subjects were all in disarray.

Coruscant smiled under his helmet and rolled out of cover. He began firing single shots from his rifle, careful to only hit the black insectoids that flittered about, still blinded. Each shot struck its target, the bugs falling from the sky one by one with their carapaces charred by the impact of plasma.

A changeling tackled him, and began to gnash at his armor. He hit his attacker with a right hook, and then shanked it behind the eye with the vibroblade in his left gauntlet. Green blood spattered on his visor, but his shields wiped it away moments later.

By that time, he was back in action, delivering deadly plasma to the swarm. The ponies and changelings were back at each other’s throats, ignoring him for the most part. He continued firing until his first clip had been emptied, and swapped it for a fresh one. The tide had already turned, and victory was in the ponies’ grasp.

Coruscant threw another flashbang, shot a few more changelings with his sidearm, and returned to his residence. The blinded ponies and changelings didn’t see where he went, just as he intended.

Mere minutes after he’d left, he was back in the house, hidden from the public.

***

Hours later the Royal Guards interrogated the surviving changelings in their camp. A tent had been set aside for this purpose, and the interview rooms were separated by small tarps. The Elements of Harmony were present in the camp, a few of them assisting in the interrogation; namely Applejack and Twilight Sparkle assisting Shining Armor, who was interviewing a changeling with a crippled wing and the distinctive iridescent-green coloring of an officer drone.

“Why?” Shining asked.

“Orderss from our Queen,” Came the reply in a sort of vibrating hiss similar to a rattlesnake’s rattle.

“What was your objective? Why attack a small town like Ponyville instead of a big city that could sustain your swarm?”

The insectoid paused, looking down. After a moment of contemplation, it looked back up at him and squinted its eyelids. “If we cooperate, what do we get in return?”

“I will personally put in a good word for any of you that come over to our side, and work to get you more lenient sentences. Are you in or out?”

More silent thinking on the changeling’s part. The ponies observing this interview had a mix of curiosity and confusion, intrigued by the process but confused as to when Shining Armor became so good at interrogations. Perhaps he had always been good at them, or perhaps he’d gained experience from the constabulary work of the Royal Guard.

“We agree. You are familiar with the alienss, yess?”

“I don’t think they’re extra-equestrial beings.”

The bug loosed a chitter that sounded like its own version of a laugh. “Perhapss not. But our scoutss in the Everfree reported aircraft unlike any known to uss, which descended from either an obscenely high altitude or from sspace. Our scoutss judged from the steep trajectory that it descended from a non-orbital position.”

“How do your kind know this? You don’t seem to put a high value on education.”

More of that chittering laugh. “We place more faith in science than you think, pony. You may be building a modern army in secret, but there are no secretss we do not know of.”

“What does he mean, ‘we’re buildin’ an army’?” Applejack asked, suspicious. She wasn’t the best at reading changelings, but she had an innate ability to sense pure honesty, if not deceit, and this bug emitted it when he spoke of an Equestrian army. No answer came.

But Equestria had gone without war since Celestia came to power over a millennium ago, and her foreign allies were more than capable of protecting Equestria from external threats with their own armies. Why would Equestria need anything beyond the Royal Guard and the Elements of Harmony to maintain peace? Diplomacy had always worked for them before. In fact, modern tools of war were practically unknown to the citizens of Equestria, whose weapons were mostly crossbows. Granted, a few of Ponyville’s residents were more familiar with the world at large than the majority of the blissfully ignorant population.

“What is it about these ‘aliens’ that prompted you to attack the town?”

“We have a few infiltratorss in this town, deep-cover agentss who do nothing but report. None of them are to exposse themselvess during attackss, and thuss they are still hidden. I do not know of their identitiess, only the information they gather that iss relevant to my work. A more recent report indicated that citizenss here are harboring alienss. Not the ones who kidnapped your poniess; thesse are considerably more dangerous. I assume you’ve all seen my dead comradess?”

They had. Dozens of changelings, each bearing a single, fatal scorch mark and cauterized wounds. One of the guards, a science buff, noted that it wasn’t consistent with any type of magic-inflicted wound, but rather with a burst of heat. The wounds were disgusting, being an inch in diameter and marked with charred chitin and green blood, sporting an odor of burnt flesh and ozone.

“Yes.”

“Thesse aliens, or rather a single alien, iss responsible for thiss. Few of my comradess saw the alien in action and lived to tell of it. We came for it, to capture it and usse it for ourselvess. With its destructive capabilitiess, we could take and hold entire settlementss with easse.”

“Can you describe it?” Shining had a hunch that it may have been the same ‘alien’ that aided in the ponies’ escape, or perhaps one of their captors.

The insectoid nodded. “Silver-white armor, bipedal. Tall, around six hoovess in height. It threw objectss that burst to release blinding light and thunderouss noisse, stunning uss and you poniess. Itss weapon fired blue magic of some sort, a single hit of which wass capable of killing.”

Sounds like the one that led the ponies’ exodus from their captivity a few days ago. This might be the “Gray Ghost” the prisoners spoke of today. But anything with such killing prowess shouldn’t be trusted. Probably manipulating whomever is housing it, advancing its own agenda. I’ll have to put out a BOLO.

“Sounds like a good guy to me,” Shining lied, smiling.

“Neither good nor evil. The one closest to uss is without a family, the one further away is separated from theirss. The first, who led the poniess to freedom, is more calm, more balanced in its emotionss. The other, who fought not in thiss battle, iss more aggressive.”

“There're two of them!? How would even you know this?” Shining Armor was skeptical.

The insectoid gave the ponies a smug grin. “Our kind has the ability to sensse emotionss, judge their distance. We cannot sensse locationss, directionss or precisse distancess; do not bother attempting to usse uss to hunt them.”

“I think we’re done here,” Shining Armor said as he stood up and walked out.

“You best raisse your army quickly. There are more of them than you know! They’re coming!”

The changelings began to chitter in unison, an intimidating display of their local hivemind, and all of it controlled by the green officer. “THEY’RE COMING, PONIESS! NEW SWARMSS, BEYOND EVEN USS! THEY APPROACH!” The insect-like beings shouted together.

The hiss died down as Shining and his guests left the tent.

“What was it talkin’ about when it said we was ‘buildin’ an army’!?” Applejack demanded.

“AJ, calm down! He was lying; he only means to sow distrust!” Twilight defended him.

“I know when I hear the truth. Ain’t a critter in the world I can’t tell when they’re tellin’ the straight truth. An’ that bug was tellin’ it.”

Shining Armor turned to face them, a stern look on his face as he began to rebuke her. “Miss Applejack, truth is relative. If you believe in something, then it’s the truth. If Lyra believed that Equestria Daily was run by humans, and she told us that, then she’d be telling the truth, even if it wasn’t true. So that means that whatever they believe is the truth to them.”

Applejack sighed. “I guess yer right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Now, I need to prepare a search for these ‘aliens’. If you and your friends would like to help, you’re welcome to.” He smiled as he put his helmet on and rallied a couple dozen Royal Guards.

Twilight and AJ went to talk to their friends, and after telling them of what happened, and the coming search, Rainbow Dash suddenly looked concerned. It seemed the news of the search was what set her off.

“I gotta go, I uh, left the oven on!” She bolted away from them, leaving a rainbow contrail behind her. It was clear to everypony that she wasn’t headed for her cloud-home. Applejack was the first to realize that she was headed to her farm.

“C’mon, everypony! She’s up to somethin’, an’ I don’t like what I’m thinkin’!”

***

Rainbow Dash knocked on the door to the attic Sev was in, although it actually sounded more like pounding. “Sev, I need to talk to you!”

“Then get in here!”

She opened the door and slammed it behind her. “Okay, so changelings attacked Ponyville because they were looking for you, but apparently there’s another alien, that sounds like he might be like you, who helped everypony escape the prison and they call him the ‘Gray Ghost’, and he fought them off without revealing himself for long and he escaped and nopony knows where he went!” Her voice got more strained as her lungs neared emptiness, as she didn’t pause to breathe at all.

She inhaled loudly, filling her lungs with air before she resumed trying to update him. “And somehow the Royal Guards know there’re two aliens that are here, even though all they know is that one is in Ponyville, and one is near Ponyville, and now they’re sending out search teams to find you and the other alien and there isn’t much time because I just realized I probably led them here and you have to run-and-or-hide!”

“Damn!” Sev got to his feet. “Okay, you take care of the books, make sure that Macintosh knows. Clean up any signs of my presence, and I’ll hide in the outskirts of the forest for a few days. Just remember, if anyone asks, you don’t know anything about me.”

“The Everfree forest? You gotta be crazy!”

Sev laughed. “There’s a saying that anything attacking me obviously doesn’t know. Ke nu'jurkadir sha Mando'ad.”

“What the hay does that mean?” Rainbow was quite clearly confused.

“Don’t mess with a Mandolorian.” Sev exited, slid down the ladder, ran out of the barn and sprinted to the forest. He could hear hooves beating the ground following him. They were on his tail.

“Stop! We just want to talk!” A male voice shouted from behind him.

Sev drew his pistol and fired several warning shots. That angered the guards, instead of scaring them off as intended.
“You’re under arrest!” Another male voice shouted. “The Equestrian Royal Guard orders you to stop! If you continue to flee you will be charged with resisting arrest in addition to possession of a weapon!”

Sev continued to run, entering the dense brush of the Everfree forest.

***

The ponies stopped outside the forest, panting. Shining Armor looked at the two guards following him and the Elements of Harmony, who were also following him.

“Do we- Do we go in?” Twilight asked her brother. She got no response for almost a minute.

“No. I’m taking Sergeant Silver Sword and Corporal Copper Cutlass in. The rest of you search for the other. Try not to provoke it.”

***

A knock came at Octavia’s door, and Coruscant hid in a small closet under the stairs, having been on the bottom floor when the knock came. Octavia opened the door and let the guests in.

“And to whom do I owe this visit?”

“The Royal Guard, ma’am. We’re here to search for the ‘Gray Ghost’, whom we believe is hiding in Ponyville. We have to search the entire house from top to bottom, and your assistance would be appreciated. We don’t want to mess up your house, so if you could show us how to impose the least…”

They sounded sincere; they didn’t want to cause trouble at all, and they weren’t threatening her. Coruscant drew his pistol and set it to ‘stun’, just in case.

“My pleasure,” Octavia responded graciously. "Ah, Twilight! Good to see you."

4. Intervention and Introspection

“Clone troopers are well disciplined. Even the Alpha-batch ARC troopers—surly though they are—are predictable, in the sense that Fett gave them precise orders that they continue to obey. But the commando batches are almost as unpredictable as the Nulls, and the Nulls are as good as being Skirata's private army. That's the problem with having intelligent clones trained by a ragbag of undisciplined thugs—they've turned out at best idiosyncratic, at worst disobedient. But they'll probably win the war for us. Tolerate them.”
―Assessment of Republic Commando cadre by Director of Special Forces general Arligan Zey to Iri Camas
***

“I hate this place,” Corporal Copper Cutlass muttered. “The whole forest is just weird. And aliens going to and from it sure doesn’t help my opinion.”

“Cool it. It’s not like we can’t take whatever’s in here,” Sergeant Silver Sword responded confidently. He had years of experience under his belt, more than their captain in fact, and he held sway with Shining Armor because of his experience.

“Hey, focus on the job. We need to find this thing and take it in for questioning.”

They didn’t even notice the reptilian footprints they passed.

***

It was time to act. The Trandoshan readied his mind for the coming slaughter. Usually when such things happened, it was Trandoshans inflicting death upon their enemies. But for him it was different.

He had no name to most who knew him. As soon as he became a bounty hunter, Syyks left his name behind, in favor of the moniker “Outrider”. While he was relatively well-known among Trandoshan mercenaries, slavers and bounty hunters, he was a controversial figure.

The reason he was controversial was not anything so extreme as rejecting the Trandoshan religion and eschewing the notion of jagganath points, that system that made his kind seem so randomly brutal. No, he had merely rejected the necessity of slaving and hunting Wookies for sport, or any other sentient being.

He encouraged bounty hunting as a somewhat more palatable alternative to slaving and hunting thinking beings; he was more partial to hunting big game anyway. But his prowess in combat against all kinds of foes was admired among Trandoshan mercenaries and hunters, and he was respected nonetheless, if somewhat disliked.

The coming slaughter was of his brethren. He owed a favor to the Republic, specifically to a commando who was missing, presumed dead. He volunteered to be the eyes and ears on the inside of a slaving operation, and to wreak havoc on their order. After he’d informed them of the two commandos there, and their escape, they Republic had told him to destroy the camp.

Doing that without blowing his cover wouldn’t be easy however. While he was the average size and build for a Trandoshan mercenary, his skin was a rare dull gray. His armor was the same as many mercs’ in form, but with better materials; more protective, lighter, more durable. It also had a paint-brush-stroke striped pattern, dark green with black stripes that tapered at the end and were bordered by brown; it provided excellent cover in forests and grasslands, and he had recolored versions for urban and desert hunts, as well as an multi-purpose patten. There was no way anyone would mistake him for another Trandoshan, so thoroughness would be the rule.

He knew the locations of every gas line and generator, every fire suppression system and every structural weak point. He’d planned this for months. Three well-hidden explosives were already in place, having been planted during the repair sessions that had endeared him to the maintenance crew. He’d already established a pattern of mid-afternoon walks. It was a long con, and it was about to pay off.

He would leave the camp, and disaster would strike in his absence. He would move on to another cell, and do the same thing there. This was much more fun than hunting Wookies. He was doing something that was extremely difficult and dangerous, and racking up kills that nobody would find out about if all went well. The Scorekeeper would be his final judge, and he believed that his ruthlessness would be rewarded.

So he went through with it. On his walk he detonated the explosives. A hundred lives taken, not one of them innocent. The stealth field generator - which hid both the aircraft that had gone to and from the camp and contained all sound within the area - covered the explosion’s sound and light with its last emission. Not one of the natives would know that the slavers had met a fiery end, just as they hadn’t known when they arrived.

***

Coruscant waited anxiously inside the cupboard, the darkness of the cramped space pierced by the soft blue glow from his helmet’s visor. He could hear the guards as they were shown around the house, their speech unintelligible and positions vague.

He hid for an hour before they came back down.

“Just need to check the closets and such downstairs,” One of the guards said, his voice muffled.

Closets, cupboards, pantries; they checked it all. Finally hooves came to his position.

“Last one.”

The knob turned and Coruscant grabbed it, determined to hold the door shut. He pulled the door inwards with his left hand, careful to only match the force of each pull. His right hand gripped his pistol, which was set to stun.

“It’s stuck.”

“Oh yeah, I was messing with superglue and it messed up the door and stuff. I was trying to fix it, and I was drunk, and-” Vinyl Scratch was cut off.

“That’s fine ma’am. Sorry to bother you, we’ll be leaving now.”

A door opened and shut. A few moments of silence followed, broken only by the relieved sighs of the three beings still in the house.

“Okay, you can come out now,” Octavia said.

Coruscant opened the cupboard and crawled out on his hands and knees. After getting to his feet and holstering his pistol, he went to his room. There was a series of games he was dying to play after Vinyl recommended them.

“Metal Gear Stable, here I come.”

***

The ponies searching for him were easy to track. All Sev had to do was follow the blatantly obvious trail they left as they pushed aside the foliage in their path.

They didn’t seem to know much about him from what he overheard them saying. A lot of speculation about his origin, motivations, whether he was related to the “Gray Ghost”, and other such topics.

What caught his attention was a prediction that a “changeling” made; new swarms would come, beyond their power. They doubted the changeling, which Sev assumed was insectoid judging from the ponies’ description of it as a “bug”. But on the off chance that was true, what could they be speaking of?

Sev could think of two “swarms”. The CIS military and its legions of droids, and the Grand Army of the Republic with its millions of clones. Either way, Sev had to focus on the now.

The ponies had gotten silent, their horns glowing with some sort of energy. Had he been detected? Perhaps, but they seemed to be preparing to counter a different sort of threat. The howling confirmed it.

“Timberwolves!” The leader shouted.

A pack of canines, seemingly made of wood, began to assault the ponies in force. Sev watched as they were fought back again and again, only to return each time. They used some sort of energy that they discharged from their horns to defend themselves, although it had little effect other than impact. The three of them seemed to be tiring after a few minutes of combat.

They’re after me, but they don’t want to kill me or seriously harm me from what I can tell. And they need my help. This could be a Republic planet someday.

They could be allies now.

Sev switched the magazine and barrel on his DC-17/m to change it into a sniper rifle. After moving closer, he began placing bolts into the timberwolves’ skulls. Each shot was a clean kill, splattering green ichor as the bolts of plasma penetrated them cleanly.

By the fifth shot, five had died, and the rest retreated. Sev reloaded, and stared at his would-be hunters. They stared back at him as though he were death incarnate, paralyzed with fear. Sev switched his rifle back to blaster mode by switching the barrel and magazine. He did his best to not look dangerous, or at least not hostile. No easy feat considering he was the first alien any of them had ever seen, was able to outfight them easily, and had an intimidating blood-red war-paint on his armor, which for all they knew was his flesh.

Please don’t make me take the initiative here.

***

Oh dear Celestia, what have I gotten us into?

Shining Armor was rooted in place, staring at the alien in front of him, less out of fear than awe and curiosity. Gray, like the figure that had been in Ponyville hours earlier, but different at the same time. It had blood-red markings over its skin and light blue objects on its legs and arms, their purpose unknown. Its face was blank, a "T" with an inverted "V" connected at the bottom, and faint blue light coming from the top of the "T". It resembled a minotaur in its upper body, but its legs were plantigrade, like Spike’s. It had hands with five fingers instead of the normal four for most creatures with hands, which appeared to be fairly dexterous without seeming fragile.

This thing had just killed five timberwolves in as many bursts of magic, when he and his guards had struggled to repel them during their hunt for the alien. The alien that had been hunting them.

But if it was hunting us, why hadn’t it attacked? Maybe it doesn’t want to hurt us. Maybe we provoked it when we ran towards it… Maybe it saved us out of good will.

Shining Armor kept a stoic expression. “Hello?”

***

“Hello?”

Okay, glad I didn’t have to start the diplomatic osik. Do I try the scary alien thing and speak Mando’a, hoping they figure me out and fear me while they respect me, or go the easy way to making allies? What would Boss do?

He pondered for a moment before coming to a conclusion. Boss wouldn’t let anything get in the way of a mission, be it personal preferences, obstacles, enemies or otherwise. Sev may have preferred to be the scary, enigmatic type, but he knew that as a commando he was a piece of a whole squad. And the brains of that squad would most definitely have gone the diplomatic route. He cleared his throat, not that it would help with his gravelly voice.

“Hi.”

“I hope you understand us, it’d be a shame to only know one word you said.” The pony put on a wry grin.

“I understand you. I’d like to talk, preferably on neutral ground.” Sev was careful not to suggest Big Mac’s farm; if things went badly he didn’t want him caught in any backlash.

“Zecora’s hut is near here, and I don’t think she’d mind a few guests,” One of the subordinates suggested.

“Works for me,” Sev said.

***

The trip was short as they headed to Zecora’s hut, but it seemed to drag on. There was the constant threat of attack from native animals, the foreign nature of the Everfree, and the hazardous plant life. They took a few more minutes than they should have, trying to avoid a patch of poison joke. The alien just walked through them, some sort of blue ward appearing around it as it did so. It seemed silently intrigued that the flowers had caused such a reaction, but proceeded through with slightly increased haste.

They reached Zecora’s hut within a matter of minutes. When they reached the dwelling, Shining Armor knocked with his hoof.

“Ma’am, we’d like to use your hut as neutral ground for a meeting. Is that acceptable?” Shining requested, the door still shut.

“I can easily provide you with what you seek, although I rarely have guests this day of the week.” The door opened, and she beckoned them inside.

The three guards walked in, which struck Zecora as odd, since she didn’t see a need for such a presence in a ‘neutral meeting’. She understood however, when a fourth figure entered, completely foreign to her.

The being gazed around, taking in the arrangement of exotic masks and potions. It was clearly from a foreign land, one Zecora knew nothing of. She took a seat in a corner and began to observe silently.

Shining Armor sat at one end of a table in the center, and the alien on the other. The two guards accompanying him stood by the entrance and watched silently.

***

This wasn’t a moment Sev expected he’d enjoy. Here he was, in some tribal hut, talking to an intelligent quadruped, with no idea what his goals were save for making sure he wasn’t a fugitive. The tribal surroundings also made him realize a blunder he’d made days earlier, on Kashyyyk.

I never got those Wookie bandoliers I wanted.

The livestock spoke first.

“I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Shining Armor. I’m the Captain of the Equestrian Royal Guard.”

“My designation is RC-1207, I’m a clone commando of the Grand Army of the Republic. Call me Sev.”

“Alright, ‘Sev’. What do you mean when you say you’re a ‘clone commando’ in the ‘Grand Army of the Republic’?”

Sev grunted. How would he explain this to a creature unaware of the galaxy at large?

“By clone, I mean I am a biological copy of a specific template. By commando, I mean I am a warrior grown and bred for high-risk missions, to be carried out alongside my squad, whom I was raised with. I was separated from them a few days ago on a planet I assume is only a few light-years from here, judging by the stars. I was incapacitated by Trandoshans, and I woke up in a camp near here.”

Shining Armor looked as though something had just clicked in his head.

“I know what a commando does. How many of you are there?”

“If we’re talking about clones in general, there are several million, but I don’t know the specific number, and I wouldn’t give it to you if I did. Most are regular infantry, unlike me.”

“What are you at war with?”

“The Confederacy of Independent Systems, also known as Separatists, who want to forcefully secede from the Republic and take unwilling systems with them. Their soldiers consist mostly of millions of droids, mindless machines built for war.”

Again, a look of realization.

“Is there anything you’d like within reason, seeing as we don’t have any way to send you back to whatever planet you were on?”

“Immunity for any perceived crimes I may have committed. Something to fight.”

“I can give you the first. No promises on the second. What if I need to see you?”

“Just talk to Rainbow Dash. She’ll find me.”

They left after bidding each other and their host farewell. Sev stayed in the forest for another hour, waiting for the guards to leave the forest. When night fell, he snuck back into the barn he’d been staying in. The bedroll and the bag of books were still there, but piled up with the dried apples.

At least they know how to clean up evidence.

Once he got out the bedroll, he detached his backpack and laid down to rest.

***

Coruscant couldn’t get Gray Fox’s words out of his head.

“We're not tools of the government or anyone else! Fighting was the only thing... the only thing I was good at, but... At least I always fought for what I believed in...”

If the Republic didn’t come for him, and they had no reason to, was he free? What would that freedom entail? His instructor had told him that clones were lucky in a way. While most people would struggle to find some meaning or purpose in life, clones already knew what they were made to do: wage war.

But now he was in a country that hadn’t waged war in over a millennium. Would he become a mercenary? Perhaps the Mandolorian heritage he and his squad had so blatantly rejected would have come in handy then. Still, from the maps he’d seen, he was hundreds of kilometers from another country, and therefore hundreds of kilometers from any potential job as a mercenary. Or, at least it would seem that way from what little he knew.

I suppose I should try to immerse myself in current events. At least then I’d be able to locate conflict zones. But I can’t just fight for anybody, I need to something to fight for.

Coruscant chuckled. A simple game made to entertain was influencing his outlook on life. But then again, it was one of the most intelligently-written franchises out there according to Vinyl.

I don’t suppose Hideo Coltjima would’ve expected to change a life created for the same purpose as his protagonist. Created to destroy.

Coruscant considered something he never would’ve before as he nodded off.

Maybe I don’t have to belong to the Republic anymore. Maybe I’m free…

5. Family Reunion

“Think of yourselves as a hand. Each of you is a finger, and without the others you're useless. Alone, a finger can't grasp, or control, or form a fist. You are nothing on your own, and everything together.”
―Kal Skirata

***

The hologram projector in the bay of the LAAT/I lit up and displayed a crouching clone, an advisor. Delta Squad gathered around it and readied for their briefing.

“Delta Squad, we’ve located a Separatist presence on a planet just a few light years from Kashyyyk. Our intel indicates it’s light compared to their numbers there, but this information is about a month old and as such is dubious at best.”

“So why send us in alone without even a replacement?” RC-1138 “Boss” inquired. Since the loss of RC-1207 "Sev" less than a week ago, he’d been much less eager in the executions of Delta’s operations, as had RC-1140 “Fixer” and RC-1262 “Scorch”. Delta Squad had been one of the few squads not shattered by the war until then.

“We’re not. Tau Squad was operating on Kashyyyk as well, and like you they lost a brother, who was a replacement for RC-1888. They’re being sent in as well.”

Scorch sighed. “At least we’re working with a competent squad, and we know Tau is one of the best there is. After us, of course.”

“What else do we have, sir?” Fixer asked the holographic projection.

“Some very interesting data. A plethora of sentient races live on the planet, all oblivious to the galaxy at large. Thousands of years behind us technologically; they haven’t even landed on their own moon. You should be able to use long-range comms with impunity. Still, they seem civilized from what we know. The only Jedi to pass through the system passed through about ten years ago, and he noted a ‘monumental concentration of Force-sensitive beings, ignorant and yet attuned to it’. The Jedi Council deigned not to initiate first contact, and the Republic was quite afraid of the possibility of a planet of Force-users. For the protection of the locals and the galaxy at large, the planet and system were erased from most maps. It’s believed that only a small amount of them can actually harness that ability, but remain on guard.”

“Well, this’ll be interesting,” Boss mused.

“Tau had an interesting development prior to the mission. RC-1888, who was believed dead but never confirmed to be so, recently returned under circumstances I’m not fully aware of. But they’d know their pod-brother anywhere, and scuttlebutt says there was a lot of crying at that reunion.”

“Pfft. Figures. They were always a weird bunch, too,” Scorch muttered.

He was right. Tau was one of the only squads, if not the only squad, that had been trained by two separate instructors as a social experiment. And while the process that resulted in the choice of instructors was unknown, it certainly yielded an interesting pair. Kal Skirata and Walon Vau; two Mandolorian warriors with a long history of unpleasant relations.

Having to share a squad as the result of the decision of a race they mutually despised didn’t create much camaraderie between them. They’d agreed to at least limit the rhetoric against each other in front of Tau to avoid creating a split squad. They’d succeeded at that, and at creating exemplary warriors.

“You will parachute into the area from the gunship. From there, you are to make contact with Tau and coordinate a search for a Trandoshan slaver camp known to be in the area. They’re already briefed and searching. They may have even found it already. From there you’ll have to make contact with the locals and try to identify any other possible Separatist bases in the area. A small Republic fleet will arrive in a month. The flora and fauna are confirmed to be edible, but watch what you eat anyway, because MEDEVAC is not going to happen.”

“How long before we get there?” Boss asked.

“About an hour. And one last thing. An intercepted slaver communique indicates that two clones, commandos, were captured alive on Kashyyyk less than a week ago and brought to the same slaver camp you and Tau will be searching for. I really don’t want to get your hopes up, but given that you and Tau were the only ones on Kashyyyk I know of, your pod brother might be alive down there.”

“S-Sev might be alive down there?” Scorch stuttered. All three commandos’ jaws dropped inside their helmets.

“And possibly Tau's replacement, RC-1000.”

Delta Squad hesitated to celebrate or show any overt emotions as the hologram cut out and the cabin went dark. Nonetheless, a fragile hope lit their faces brighter than any light or visor filter ever could.

***

“Wubadubdub, motherbucker!” Vinyl yelled from downstairs, waking Coruscant. Checking his chronometer, he saw that it was early even by his standards. So he closed his eyes again, but only for a moment before a cacophony of disruptive, but oddly musical sound forced them open. Although he didn’t know it, the entire neighborhood awoke with him as the “music” began. But it had become their Wednesday morning wake-up call, so they bore with it.

Coruscant put the armor plating back onto his black bodysuit, attached his pack and weapons, and donned his helmet to drown out the noise. He began to do pushups, no easy feat with a fifty-kilo backpack on.

Can’t get complacent. Need to stay in shape. Sergeant Radek always warned about softening during a mission. Always something that could go wrong, and always something to do to prevent that. I could gradually become out of shape, or I could exercise. I choose the one that lets me live longer.

After an hour of exercise, which was made easier by the treadmill in one of the rooms, he removed his helmet, went downstairs, and rewarded himself with a beverage in a dark red cylinder. The music had stopped halfway through his regimen. He opened the aluminum can with his finger and downed a gulp. It was called “Dr Pony” according to the text, which was the High Galactic Alphabet; another strange similarity. The drink was sweet, but the carbonation added a sort of kick to it. The commando enjoyed it, and drank the rest. He wasn’t surprised by the belching that followed, nor did he try to hide it.

Let’s see if Metal Gear Stable 2 is as thought-provoking as the first.

It was, if less relevant to him than the original.

***

“Over the drop zone in two,” The gunship’s pilot shouted over the comms.

“Alright lads, check your chutes and get ready to drop,” Boss shouted.

“Feet first into Hell, Boss!” Scorch shouted back. He referred to the Corellian mythology’s afterlife, in which dark Jedi, Sith, and the spirits of the evil resided. Going into a planet full of Force-sensitive individuals without much backup seemed to be a comparable experience to that.

“We really need to keep you away from Corellians, they’re rubbing off on you,” Fixer joked uncharacteristically. The normally stoic soldier must’ve been quite happy about the news to do that. Boss and Scorch both took note of this, but said nothing.

The side of the gunship opened to reveal a verdant green beneath them. Forests below and plains in the distance. The parachutes on their backs, silver-white in color, flapped slightly in the wind despite their folded state. They were made of a relatively durable, lightweight fiber that added a quarter of a kilo to their weight, and fit smoothly over their backpacks. They added a mere five centimeters of bulk to their packs in their current state, and would unfurl to full-sized chutes on the wearers command.

“Cloud cities?” Fixer muttered, seeing what looked like buildings constructed of clouds in the distance. He chalked it off as a trick of the mind, each and every instance a pareidolia.

“We’re over the drop zone in ten, nine,” The pilot chirped. He began to count down, and the three commandos stood at the edge of the bay. “Go, go, go!”

They leapt as one, and after a minute of falling they opened their parachutes.

***

This was it. Rainbow Dash was going to try a sonic rainboom in level flight. She’d done it before, but only thrice, and each time under different circumstances. The first time she’d earned her Cutie Mark. The second time had earned her a day with her idols after she saved them and her friend Rarity. The third time had been for a wedding, and she’d secretly cheated on that one by using JATO rockets, like in the now-debunked urban legend involving a speed-obsessed earth pony strapping them to a cart and flying into a canyon wall.

She had all she needed, and a bit more. She had her number one fan, Scootaloo, cheering her on.

Celestia bless that little filly. I guess the Element of Loyalty would be the one to get an adoring fan like that.

On top of that, she had her coltfriend smiling up at her, cheering her on in his own way. And that alien, Sev, was watching. It was Big Mac’s idea to get him out of that barn and get him used to the area, since he’d eventually have to interact with ponies. He doubted the whole phenomenon’s existence, which just made her even more determined.

“Let’s do this!”

She bolted forward, picking up speed at a rapid pace. Her cheeks caught air and flapped, despite her efforts to keep her mouth closed. Ears bent backwards, forehooves forward, and rear legs back to maximize her performance.
She felt the vapor cone beginning to form, and knew that a rainbow contrail was definitely forming behind her at this point. A contrail that would be magnified tenfold when she broke the sound barrier.

But as always, she needed something to focus on. She saw three clouds in the distance, and altered her trajectory to fly straight through them.

***

Boss saw the multicolor contrail first and was the first to vocalize it as well. “What in Death’s name is that!?” He pointed at the contrail, which seemed to originate from a projectile headed in their general direction.

The other Deltas turned to look at it, and shared in their sergeant’s confusion.

“Uh, vode? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that thing is kinda on a collision course with us,” Scorch warned in his typical sardonic fashion. “Scratch that, it’s headed for our chutes. So much for my plan of slapping that missile aside.”

“Still half a kilometer from the ground, I think we can survive,” Fixer added. “Next time we requisition backup chutes.”

The projectile, or perhaps natural phenomenon, tore through their chutes with ease.

“Brace for impact Deltas!” Boss roared.

***

“Twitch-a-twitch! Twitch-a-twitch!” Pinkie warned, her tail shaking like mad. Then her whole body began shaking, and her tail blurred as it continued.

Everypony in Sugarcube Corner knew about Pinkie’s ESP, and they all knew it was accurate. They all understood both of these signs. And the combination was frightening to say the least.

So they all fled the building, with the exception of Mr. and Mrs. Cake, who rushed to their foals. Pinkie just stood, or rather shook, where she was.

***

Looks like a building made out of dessert. With livestock running out of it. Hope it’s soft, Scorch thought to himself. All that came out however, was a scream.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh-ha-haaaaahhhhhhhhh!!”

The landing was slowed by the roof of the structure. And the floor of the attic. And the second floor. And a table.

The commando’s shields took most of the damage, and his Katarn armor took most of the rest. Still, he had the wind knocked out of him for several moments. And there was an oddly irritating, yet simultaneously humorous gasp, presumably from an occupant of the structure.

“Omigosh, an alien! Hi Mr. Alien, my name’s Pinkie Pie, what’s yours? Oh wait, maybe you don’t speak Equestrian.” The female voice, which was in perfect Basic, began to speak apparent unintelligibly, followed by what sounded like “Aaaay, Macarena!”

Scorch caught his breath and got up slowly. Soon he stood on his feet and looked around him. He was in a shop of some sort, one filled with sweet odors. Like the sweet uj cake he’d envied Skirata’s boys for eating, and never had a chance to really try, but even better.

He looked at a table of confections, and after his helmet told him they were safe to eat, he did something he never would have normally. He took off his helmet in the middle of an unknown alien planet and began to enjoy the local cuisine.

“Oh, these cookies!”

The equine source of the voice, “Pinkie Pie”, popped in front of him, wearing an impossibly large smile. “Oh! Oh! I made those cookies, you like them?”

Scorch nodded and continued stuffing his face irresponsibly. Pretty much any instructor or member of his team would’ve scolded him harshly for his recklessness. Vau would’ve beat him half to death.

That thought snapped him out of his feeding frenzy. He swallowed his food as he remembered his mission, and more importantly his squad. His brothers were out there, and probably less lucky than him. He put on his helmet and tried to regain some semblance of professionalism.

“Oh, fierfek.” He looked at Pinkie, who’d been friendlier to him after he damaged this building than most aliens he’d met under better circumstances. “I have to go,” he sighed. “I need to find my vode. Chances are they didn’t have a landing as mild as mine, and they might be in deep osik.”

Should I ask her to help? Why not? She seems friendly, and I can take her out no problem if it comes to that.

“You can come if you want.”

“Okie-dokie-lokie, Kaiden!”

“Um, my name’s actually not-”

“I’m just teasing you, Carth. I know your name’s ‘Scorch’!”

The commando exited the shop somewhat disturbed, Pinkie Pie bouncing behind him and gibbering about something or other.

***

Boss regained consciousness a few minutes after impact, judging by his helmet chrono.

“Girls? Judging by our flanks I don’t think we’re Cutie Mark Crusaders Crash Site investigators,” A young female voice stated in Basic. “Wait, it’s moving!”

The clone crawled to his hands and knees, then got to his feet. His equipment was all with him, so he looked around. Three small equinoids of varying colors gazed up at him. Around him was a plantation of fruit-bearing trees.

“Ah think he’s like that other alien mah brother was showin’ round. ‘Cept this ‘un’s a different color.”

Are they talking about Sev?

It seemed they were, because in the distance a familiar red, gray and white biped grew steadily larger. It was the first time Boss ever cried.

***

“Just relax, Twilight! What are you so worried about anyway?”

“Spike, you of all ponies- I mean dragons, should know! According to my calculations, Rainbow Dash should’ve crashed into my library by now. I’ve double and triple-checked my formulae, and in order to maintain her average crash-schedule, which she sticks to unerringly, there should be a crash by now!”

Spike shrugged. Twilight had a tendency to overthink some things. Which meant she overthought everything. “Didn’t you say something about factoring in other crashes for insurance or something?”

“Oh yeah…” Twilight visibly eased. She’d counted in a few birds impacting the window, although it was the same Abert’s Towhee every single time. “Dumb Towhee.” And then there was the time Tom almost killed Rarity by quite literally “dropping in” on a sleepover with her friends; it had taken all six of them to get that stupid boulder out.

Her fears were eased as a crash came. This one came from above, like the incident with Tom. Except it was a plantigrade biped colored white, green and black. And it wasn’t Tom.

***

“Deltas, report in,” Boss ordered over the comms.

“Delta Four-Oh reporting in.”

“Delta Six-Two, I’m here.”

“Delta Oh-Seven here, I missed you ner vode,” A familiar gravelly voice echoed.

“Even me?” Scorch joked, hiding his glee. His brother was alive, and his icon appeared on Scorch’s HUD.

“Yeah, even you, Scorch.”

“Kandosii. When’s the party?”

“What kinda party!?” Pinkie demanded happily, her head hanging upside-down from some unknown force or object. Once again, Scorch was a bit disturbed; he was no stranger to Jedi, but this was still weird to him.

If this keeps up, soon I’m not even gonna care.

“Hold on a sec, vode. I got a local who thinks she’s coming with.”

“Same here,” Fixer added. His comm switched off. Scorch did likewise.

“It’s a family reunion, and you’re not invited.”

Pinkie stopped hopping and her grin faltered somewhat. “Can I still throw it for you?”

“No.”

Her pupils grew to fill her already huge eyes. Her mane deflated, her mouth came to a frown and her eyes watered. She gazed at Scorch pleadingly, her lip quivering.

***

“You crash into my house and you can’t even tell me your name?” The purple equine female demanded.

“That’s correct, ma’am,” Fixer answered.

“You’re not even from this planet, are you?”

“No ma’am. But I have to be somewhere, and you’re slowing me down.”

Fixer noticed the local inhabitants staring at him as he jogged towards the hastily-made rendezvous point. This was definitely not the way he’d pictured reuniting with Sev.

I expected to rescue him from interrogation, not botch a first contact situation and jog two klicks to a new RV point.

He made a mental note to have the field manual revised to include first contact situations, preferably with multiple courses of action varying by the technological tier of the inhabitants.

***

“Yeah, this is where I’ve been cooped up since I escaped.” Sev led Fixer and Boss into the attic of the barn he’d been staying in. The stairs creaked under the combined weight of three fully-equipped commandos, and by the time they reached the top they had decided that they’d go one at a time from then on to avoid any potential breakages from straining the wood.

He opened the door to the attic only to be hit by multi-colored paper shrapnel.

“Surprise!” A female voice shouted from inside. The confetti cleared to reveal a few tables laden with drinks and food, with Scorch and a pink pony inside.

“Don’t ask how I got here first, ‘cause I don’t know.” Scorch shrugged and looked at the pony. “Pinkie, you mind if we have a little privacy?”

“Sure!” She skipped out of the room.

“Sev, we’ve got some catching up to do.” Fixer looked at the food and drink arrayed throughout the attic. His visor told him it was edible. “Food’s safe, I guess. I guess we can talk over lunch.”

***

Applejack wandered into the Everfree forest, a bushel of apples on her back. This was a new routine for her, but after she’d been taken by “Trandoshan slavers” a few nights prior, the night before Big Macintosh’s return in fact, and then rescued before she could be taken far, she owed a debt of gratitude to her rescuers.

All the anonymous four requested in return was a steady supply of food to supplement what they had. Each time she came, the creatures knew she was coming, and each time they thanked her and sent an escort back.

She’d grown to trust these things somewhat, whatever they were. When Big Macintosh introduced her to Sev earlier, she realized they must’ve been the same species. And the arrival of three more who seemed to be his friends meant she gave them whatever berth they desired. The last thing she wanted was to interrupt what seemed to be a family reunion.

“Heck if I’m gonna start somethin’ with those fellas,” She mused aloud as she walked around a patch of poison joke.

“And who might ‘those fellas’ be?” One of the aforementioned beings inquired. It stood in the same patch of poison joke she’d been avoiding. Not affected by it either, save for what might’ve been the glow of a ward, or enchanted armor.

“Uh, nopony! Nopony at all!” She put on her best pokerface. The same one that had lost her hundreds of bits.

“Please don’t lie to me, you’re awfully easy to read.” It looked at her and heard her belly rumble. “Hey, if you want to eat with us it’s fine. We won’t bite. And I’ll take you back to your farm afterwards. Sound good?”

“Uh, okay…” Applejack gulped and followed the figure as it avoided a patch of poison joke. “I thought y’all were immune to poison joke, why’re we walkin’ ‘round it?”

The entity continued on, not turning its head. “Because you aren’t. I saw how you avoided those things like a plague, and I can deduce from that.”

The next few minutes passed in silence, although the creature’s head nodded as though it were talking to somepony. Finally, they came to a small clearing. There were a few small tents, some boxes, and a small, extinguished campfire in the middle.

“I knew you were bringing a guest, Tal, but I was hoping for something scalier. Lizards are fun houseguests,” Another figure joked. It had the same outline as her escort, but different colors. A coat of jet black covered most of its body, with some white spots around what seemed to be its joints and eye, and identically-colored scratches all over. The customization and coloring among this group and the ones Big Mac had revealed to her led Applejack to believe it was armor, which would explain their identical faces. Perhaps their armor was white or a light gray underneath the colors. This one seemed to be cleaning something with a rag.

“‘Tal’? That’s yer name?”

She looked up at her escort. In the light she could see it clearly. It was a dark gray, with a matte yellow right shoulder pad, and a matching stripe running down the outside of its right arm. A few more stripes of the same dull golden hue marked it; one on the head, running from back of the helmet to just above the eye, one on its left breast, and one on each knee. The plate on its right hand was gol

“Yeah. Mr. Clean here in the black armor is named ‘Ca’. The guy in gray and green,” Tal gestured to another with the same gray armor and a similar - but distinct - set of decorative stripes in a forest green. “His name’s Sh’ehn. He was missing for a few months, we all thought he was dead. Apparently he got better.”

That elicited some mild laughter from Applejack. The others must’ve heard that one before, because they each gave a brief "heh"; they still though it was funny, but it wasn’t fresh anymore.

“And the vod in the gray and blue is Orar.” Tal pointed to a third being with its thumb. This one was the same steel gray as and had a pattern on his armor like Tal's, but with blue in place of the gold, and some more blue stripes on its head and chest. The largest was a vertical stripe that ran down its head and two diagonal stripes that marked each cheek.

So they’re stallions. Or their version, anyway. Males, that’s the word.

Tal took the bushel of apples from her back and placed it in the middle of the campsite, near the fire. He grabbed his head with both hands and a hiss came from his neck, making AJ flinch. The man removed what was definitely helmet and set it down next to him, straight up.

His comrades did likewise, revealing identical faces. To a mare used to diversity in so many forms among her own kind, it was more than a bit unsettling.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Ca smiled. “Something like ‘If these dashing young men all look the same, how could I possibly choose one?’ Sadly, I don’t have an answer.”

“Osik,” Tal responded. “We’re as good-looking as any other clones, and I think that’s not much better than average.” He bit into an apple, as did his comrades.

Applejack joined their meal, anxiety written all over her. She took a few deep breaths, forcing herself to calm down. “I seen four other fellas who look like y’all, ‘cept they don’t got the same colors. Red , green, orange an’ yellow.”

“Red?” Orar repeated, curious.

“I guess Delta made it down and found their missing man after all,” Sh’ehn mused.

Tal looked guilty, and muttered something in a language Applejack didn’t understand.

“Tion gar’baati par Coruscanta?” Sh’ehn asked him.

“‘Lek. Ni kar’talyi kaysh su’cuyi.” Tal nodded.

“Udesii, ner’vod. Gar dar’juri kaysh, Tal.”

“Gar serim. Vor’e.” Tal nodded again and gave a weak smile.

They ate in silence for a while before Tal put back his helmet took Applejack back through the forest.

“Never caught your name, miss,” He stated.

“Mah name’s Applejack. Friends call me ‘AJ’. Y’all’s kind seem to try an’ keep in fours. Is that a sorta family thing?”

“Yeah. We were raised together and trained as soldiers together. And we’re not here to invade if that’s what you’re thinking. We’re all clones, and there’re millions like us, identical down to their DNA. You know what DNA is, right?”

“Yeah, I have a major in entomology an’ a minor in genealogy, but when mah parents died I came back to the farm to help run it.” She winced as she mentioned her parents. It wasn’t purely of sorrow for her loss, as there seemed to be a sort of negativity intrinsic to thinking of her parents. Perhaps she had realized that the clones had no parents as far as she knew.

Tal chuckled, outwardly ignoring her flinch. “You didn’t strike me as the educated type.”

AJ chuckled too. “It’s the accent an’ the occupation, I know. But there’re millions of ya, an’ ya all stay in fours?”

“No. A few thousand clones stay in fours, a few hundred work alone, and the vast majority work in infantry formations. We’re all clones of a single human male, so we all look more-or-less the same. But we’re all different personality-wise.”

That was quite different from her experiences. Sure, ponies were diverse, but they often had somewhat bland personalities until you got to know them. She was thankful that her and her friends all acted differently in addition to looking different. These men were the opposite, defined by themselves more than their appearance.

“That’s actually pretty specific. Seems like the kinda thing that’d be secret.” Applejack looked worried that she was about to be sworn to secrecy, and she wasn’t much good at concealing things as Tal had already indicated.

“It’s publicly available information. I wouldn’t tell you anything I shouldn’t. But other clones have different armor, which helps to set us apart visually. Regular clones mostly use Phase-II armor now, and the ARCs, the loners I mentioned earlier, have an extremely advanced version of the Phase-I, with some Phase-II versions in service. The armor I wear is issued to commandos and bears more resemblance to the Phase-I. Commandos and ARCs have plenty of leeway in customizing our armor’s appearance and adding accessories, but regulars are painting their armor more and more often.” Tal stopped. “And we’re here.”

“See ya, Tal!”

“See ya.” Tal turned around and disappeared back into the Everfree.

***

“Yeah, it was pretty good. I don’t see why ponies were complaining about it. You said they were right?” Coruscant was talking to Vinyl Scratch, his helmet off and next to him. He insisted on wearing his armor at all times when he was awake, although he could put the plates back onto his bodysuit in less than thirty seconds. He likewise insisted on keeping his weapons ready.

“Yeah. I didn’t really care. While the first two focused on ideas more unique to modern ponykind, the second two of the main series focus on more timeless themes,” She answered. Despite her “party-hard” image, she was actually quite intelligent within her own sphere of experiences. Octavia was cultured, and Vinyl was pop-cultured.

“Damn, I’ve got some work cut out for me. I’ll get started on 3 tomorrow.”

“Cool. Hey, wanna check out my club tonight? Wicked sick beats goin’ down there! The Royal Guard dudes let up looking for you after some dude who sounded kinda like you saved their flanks. Now they’re cool with your kind hangin’ out. And I heard rumors of some other guys like you falling from the sky and headed to Sweet Apple Acres. Who knows, maybe one of them’ll show up!”

Coruscant tensed visibly at the mention of more like him. “Like me, huh?” He put on his helmet and went upstairs. “I have to check something.”

“If it’s Appleparty, don’t do it!” Vinyl shouted as he ascended the stairs.

“It’s not,” He replied.

I really don’t want to know what that is.

Upon reaching his room, he picked up his datapad and linked it to his helmet. Next, he scanned for any IFFs in a twelve kilometer radius. He got eight; two whole squads of commandos. He didn’t recognize the ID of the first four, but knew their squad ID was Delta.

Vau’s star squad. One of the best.

The other ones he recognized in full. He saw Tau was here. His adopted brothers were all present, and another clone he didn’t remember at first. Initially, he thought this fourth was a second replacement. But when he recalled the unique nickname of his new family, “Trip Squad”, he recognized it. It was the clone he’d replaced, RC-1888, “Sh’ehn”.

He knew Tau well enough to know that they wouldn’t tolerate a clone claiming to be their brother, and he knew they’d be able to tell him from any other clone as well, even from the most skilled shapeshifter. That meant that Tau was whole again.

And if they were complete, he was alone.

No fate. No purpose. No family.

Coruscant felt tears well up in his eyes, only to shut them in. His instructor’s words came to mind.

“They say that as soldiers, we have no fate. That as clones, you have no fate. I disagree. We have no fate but what we make. While outside forces may manipulate us and make important choices for us, we are the sole arbiters of our own fates. Remember that while you might be nothing more than a wet droid to the galaxy at large, you are still men, and you still make your own choices. They might not always be the easy ones, but the right ones usually aren’t, and those are the choices I expect you to make.”

He was master of his own destiny. Deserting and defecting weren’t going to happen, but he wasn’t going to beg for a new squad either. He knew one would come to him when one was ready. He could stand on his own two feet, have dignity and make his own choices until then, and afterwards.

I’m my own person. When the Republic calls on me, I’ll answer. Until then, I’m free.

***

“I have to say, Sev. You handled things pretty well,” Boss stated, openly stating the surprise the whole squad had at their brother’s unexpected diplomacy.

“Yeah, I think so too. I can hardly believe I didn’t shabla things myself,” Sev agreed. He took a second slice of cake from one of the tables that had been set up and had a few bites before looking back up. “Scorch, how’d you get all this food up here anyway?”

The commando shrugged in response. “I have no idea. One second Pinkie and I are walking through the streets, talking, and when I finally relent and let her throw us a small party we instantly end up here. She pulls out a shabla ancient-style cannon out, fires it, and all this stuff comes out. Like I said, don’t ask, because I don’t know. But I can guess from what I have heard that Pinkie Pie is just, well, weird. Like, she defies logic in a way that nobody else can. But she seems pretty nice if you ignore how random she is.”

“You like her,” Sev teased.

“We just met, ner vod!”

“You just going to let this continue?” Fixer whispered, leaning towards Boss, who was preoccupied with a datapad.

“Both of you, can it!” The sergeant barked. Sev and Scorch obeyed. He looked up from his device at his squad. “I just got a comm from Tau’s sergeant. They’re on the ground just a few klicks from here, inside the nearby forest, so if you see anyone in Republic-issued armor don’t shoot, gedet’ye.”

***

Hours later, RC-1611 “Ca” headed to the nearest settlement under the cover of the newly descended darkness, his orders being to recce the area, and establish informal relations with the locals if he had to make contact with any. His DC-17/m had a less-lethal Pulsed Energy Projectile, or “PEP”, attachment equipped and his DC-15/s sidearm was likewise set to stun. He didn’t want to cause any problems.

One common psychological feature many clones seemed to have was a very mild claustrophobia, or at least a preference for open spaces, believed by some to be a result of the gestation chambers they were grown in. Some clones were also shocked to find that not all environments were as clean as Kamino.

For his part, Ca used to be achluophobic; afraid of the dark. He never showed it, but the dark had once scared him in a way that nothing else could. Sometimes as a boy he would sneak a datapad into his room to use as a night-light. Eventually this fear came to light, fortunately during one of their sessions with Kal Skirata instead of one with the less compassionate Walon Vau.

Kal’buir, as they’d called him, told him about his own struggle with the same fear as a child, compounded in difficulty by his parents’ deaths. He’d managed to overcome it in order to survive in the ruins of the city he’d been raised in, with just his father’s three-sided knife for company.

It soothed him to know he hadn’t been alone. After that, he embraced the darkness in a somewhat literal sense, as opposed to the “dark side” osik the Jedi frequently dithered about. He painted his armor black for the most part, with a few spots unpainted; just around his visor and his biceps. That was when he got the name “Ca”, which in Mando’a meant “night”.

As Ca approached the town, he noted that the streets were illuminated by light emanating from inside residencies lining either side of every road. No more than a dozen of the natives were outside at this time of night, and most of them seemed to be in a routine familiar to each. That meant they walked in straight lines and right angles, making their paths easy to predict and avoid.

The commando repeatedly hid in alleyways and pressed against walls to evade detection. Each time, he set down a thumbnail-sized sensor, which would help create a piece of a map of the settlement; every time he set one down, a blank square on the map filled. This process repeated, until he came to an establishment that seemed to be about halfway through what sounded like the only song he ever heard being played by clubs throughout the galaxy. He set down a final sensor and snuck back to his squad in the forest.

***

Shortly after nightfall, Coruscant entered the nightclub Vinyl had mentioned earlier that day.

“Cory, you made it!” She yelled in a celebratory tone, her voice almost drowned out by the music. She stood behind a large electronic device of some sort, featuring bowl-like indentations under a wire mesh. Sound pulsed from the machine, seemingly originating from the sonic arrays.

“Cory?” Coruscant removed his helmet to reveal a quizzical look. As he did so, ponies turned from their dancing and drinking to look at him, but only briefly. He attached it to a magnetic strip on the side of his backpack to keep it with him.

“Yeah, it’s a nickname I came up with just now. Lemme buy you a drink!”

Coruscant hesitated briefly, wondering what the legal age for drinking was in the Republic. Then he remembered that wasn’t in Republic space, and that clones weren’t even Republic citizens. He shrugged and nodded at her, following the mare to the bar.

She levitated a short stool out with her magic, a pale blue glow enveloping her horn as she did so. Coruscant sat down, the stool seemingly strong enough to hold him, but the right height that he was a comfortable height compared to the counter.

“Yo Berry! Get me some of that stuff Pinkie gave us!”

A magenta mare with a violet-red mane nodded and produced two bottles of a clear blue liquid.

“This is… It’s blue?” Coruscant inquired. He pulled out his datapad and gave it a quick scan to make sure it was safe, which it barely was. It was 60% alcohol by volume and smelled like ozone.

“And guaranteed to knock you on your flank!” The bartender added as she filled a pair of glasses.

“It's called 'romlan ale', or something” Vinyl said with a wicked grin. “Pinkie Pie got it somewhere, somehow. I have no clue really, except that it’s booze. But if Pinkie got it, it must be good shit!”

A glass slid to each of them, and they both grabbed their respective glasses.

“Bottoms up!” Vinyl toasted. The two of them raised their glasses and started on their drinks. “That is good!” She rasped.

Coruscant spent an hour there, hardly touching his glass. Instead, he answered questions from ponies who recognized him as the “Gray Ghost” and generally tried to socialize. The locals seemed pretty friendly to him, which was entirely unexpected.

He opted not to enter the crowded dance floor, which ponies stood on, shaking their tails and heads, rotating their bodies. Glow sticks were everywhere, shaking along with the ponies. Strobe-lights flickered and lasers pulsed, creating a sensory overload.

After that hour ended, he left the club and headed back to his hosts’ place, his helmet back in place, although it was more for psychological comfort than protection.

Why would anyone even want to drink that stuff? It just tastes bad and impairs you. But I guess it’s a little bit fun as far as being impaired goes. Thank the Force I only drank a bit of the glass.

Opening the front door, Coruscant walked into the now-familiar hall and strode upstairs. As he ascended, he heard a piano being played upstairs, with five notes played and then repeated at a higher pitch, and although he didn’t know what it was, it drew him to Octavia’s room. He removed his helmet and closed his eyes, trying to picture a scene that could fit it.

A cold mountain filled his mind, populated by two opposing forces. With drums playing, and violins working with the piano to provide a highlight, they went at each other. With each moment the battle seemed more desperate for either side as streaks of one color struck down one group and a different hue struck another. The population of each side fell one by one, until half of one group remained and the other had fallen. The whole battle played out over about three minutes, with the victors advancing wearily during the last half minute as a bridge of light formed, leading them into a temple of some kind.

He opened his eyes to find that Octavia had been playing the music from a disk. She was smiling peacefully, her eyes shut as she lay on her bed. Coruscant smiled and shut the door, heading to his own room.

There, he removed his armor plates and arranged them neatly on his floor. All that remained was his black bodysuit.

I’ll have to ask about a wash in the morning…

6. Like A Boss

"You can't breed soldiers with flash-learning and simulation. They must come face to face with death itself."
―Walon Vau

***

As far as the commandos of Delta Squad were concerned, there were two types of people in the Grand Army of the Republic. There were soldiers, and there were warriors. They considered anyone who was dar’manda, which meant they had no heritage, to be a mere soldier; perhaps they were average, or even extremely skilled, but they were still mere soldiers. But with the Mando culture came a warrior’s instincts, and no warrior would’ve let their skills falter and fade.

By their temporary residence in Sweet Apple Acres, the four commandos sparred and exercised as the sun rose over the farm. Some of their drills were one-on-one sparring, some were two-on-two fights, and others were three-on-one brawls; they mixed up the grouping each time, so that none of them would be in the same scenario twice.

Their armor was removed for the most part, leaving only their black bodysuits and their boots on. That meant that they would feel each other’s attacks completely. Still, they held back to avoid causing anything worse than a bruise. After exercising and training without any protection, they donned their Katarn-class armor and repeated each exercise.

They ignored their hosts as they watched the ritual in curiosity. They weren’t sure whether this was practice, a ceremony, or a genuine fight, but they knew better than to get involved.

Two hours after they woke, Delta Squad had finished their practice. They sauntered casually to the house and knocked on the door, with the intent to ask for some food and water.

“Fierfek,” Sev muttered. With his helmet on, only his brothers could hear him.

“What?” Fixer cocked his head.

“I just realized that we look sorta like these farmers.”

“How so?”

“Colors. There’s an orange one, a red one, a yellow one and a green one.”

“Huh.”

***

A knock came on Twilight Sparkle’s door. “Twili?”

“Come in.” She recognized her brother’s voice, and his pet name for her.

The door creaked open, and Twilight put “Oil the door hinges” on her to-do list. A science-fiction anthology lay open next to her, the table of contents being the exposed part. She was looking for a story she’d thought of the previous night that had seemed relevant to the day’s events.

Oh Celestia. I was thinking of a dream I had. That’s why the submarines were made of Styrofoam. Maybe I should try to find a spell that allows me to project my dreams like a movie. That would be fun to try on Pinkie Pie. Wait, no! No sane pony or mortal could comprehend her thoughts; it’s too dangerous.

“Twili, I need a favor.”

She turned from her book to face her brother. He was in full Royal Guard garb, the golden armor and crested helm indicating he was on duty.

“Sure.” Twilight ambled over to a table and pulled some fresh pancakes off of the griddle. She stacked them on two plates and a platter, with a couple dozen on the platter and three to each plate. A slice of butter topped both stacks and hot syrup poured over them. “Want some?”

“No, I’m here on business,” He answered sternly. He suddenly looked unsure and looked at the floor before looking at his little sister. “And between you and me, this armor’s been a bit tight since the honeymoon. I think I might’ve had a bit too much haycon at that hotel. But being back on duty is helping me get back in shape, so I should be fine.”

“Okay. What do you need?” Twilight levitated a fork and cut out a slice of food. She chewed thoughtfully.

“I need to find that alien from the other day. He said Rainbow Dash could find him, but I don’t know where she is.”

She squinted and stopped chewing, swallowing with exaggerated slowness. “The alien from yesterday, or the alien from the day before yesterday?”

“The first one. By which I mean the second option. The red one.”

“Not green?”

“Green?”

“I thought you said ‘red’?”

Spike grumbled in his sleep about bases and pronouns, rolling over in his bed.

“I did. Who’s the green one?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t want to talk.”

“You must be thinking about the red one, he seemed like the quiet type.”

“I mean ‘green’.”

“No, I mean red.”

“I’m not saying you mean green, I mean green.”

“Who’s on first!” Spike shouted, waking with a start.

Pinkie Pie pressed her face against the window. “No silly, Who’s on first and What’s on second!” She disappeared right after.

“So uh, a little green pony appeared yesterday?” Shining asked, still confused.

“No, it-” Twilight sighed. “I’ll get Rainbow Dash.”

***

“Good fruit,” Boss commented. “What’s it called again?”

“Um, apples?” Applebloom answered. How could anything not know what apples were?

A rainbow projectile shot through a window and landed on the floor of the Apple family kitchen. Sev recognized her as Rainbow Dash, and the other Deltas recognized her as the thing that had torn through their parachutes.

“Yer’ payin’ fer that,” Applejack said matter-of-factly. She didn’t even raise her voice, she just gave her a disappointed look.

“Okay…” Dash picked herself up and looked at the commandos in front of her. “Hey Sev. Twilight told me to tell you that Shining Armor, the Captain of the Guard, wants you to meet him in town.”

The commandos put their helmets on and left for the nearby settlement.

***

“Oh boy.”

“Oh brother.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Crud.”

“I’m getting’ too old for this shit.”

“Is it Monday already?”

“All is lost!”

“‘Tis the Four Horselessmen of the Apocalypse, come to live among us and rule us for seven years! The end is nigh!”

The guards stationed in Ponyville shared their fear quietly, or in some cases disruptively. Shining Armor stood in stoic silence, hiding his fear of the alien, no, aliens, that were coming.

They finally reached him after what felt like hours. He put on a stern face and looked Sev in the eye. “Somepony high up was interested in you after I sent back a report. The Princesses would like to meet you. Alone.”

***

“Somepony high up was interested in you after I sent back a report. The Princesses would like to meet you. Alone.” Shining Armor looked like he meant what he said.

“You and what army?” Scorch mocked.

Did he really just say that? Sev wondered.

“Knock it off, Scorch!” Boss ordered. He looked Shining Armor dead in the eyes. “I’ll take my squad to see your Princesses.”

“Sev is going, and only him.” Shining Armor didn’t flinch.

Boss grinned under his helmet and continued in an icy tone. “I’m offering you the updated conditions.”

“I’m not changing my position.”

“Listen closely Shining Armor, because I’m only going to say this once. I do not answer to your shabla Princesses, I do not answer to your shabla government, I do not answer to your shabla guards, and I do not answer to you, shabuir. We all meet them, or we don’t meet them at all. Am I clear?”

The stallion winced and nodded.

Within a matter of hours, the Princesses arrived in Ponyville to meet the mysterious new arrivals. The regents were larger than the other ponies and eyed the commandos with suspicion. Compared to the average welcome they received, this was quite friendly. The meeting was relatively low-key and took place inside the small Royal Guard complex that had been established. There had to have been two dozen guards outside the tent they met in, and a dozen elite guards inside.

The commandos were unreadable as always, their helmets giving them anonymity and private lines of communication.

“My name is Princess Celestia. With me are Princesses Luna and Cadence. I was under the impression that this would be between us and Sev,” A white princess with a rainbow mane that flowed without wind stated. The others were a pink mare who stood rather close to Shining Armor, and a midnight blue mare whose mane flowed like the speaker’s but appeared to encompass an image not unlike that of the night sky.

Luna, Lunar; the blue one must be Luna, meaning the pink one is Cadence.

“The lady in blue is Luna, I presume?” Boss spoke.

“Yes,” Luna answered. “Could you explain your intrusion upon our meeting?”

Sev drummed his fingers on his arm until Fixer nudged him.

“RC-1207 is our pod-brother, and I am his commanding officer. We arrived just yesterday to find him alive on this planet. I realized as soon as I heard of this meeting that it would’ve been irresponsible to let the most reckless of our squad meet you all alone. None of us are really diplomatic types, and Oh-Seven is the least so; hence you have the meeting before you.”

***

I can’t get any sense of magic on these things, Luna. What about you? Celestia asked with her telepathy.

None whatsoever, Tia. It’s very curious. Cadence, anything on their emotions? Feelings?

I’m sorry Aunt Luna, but it’s like their psyches are built differently. Perhaps a combination of a strange upbringing and trauma could cause this, but not much else. Perhaps their minds work differently?

This presented a problem. Celestia had brought her sister and niece to try and decipher these aliens, and it was disconcerting to get no results. She needed to gauge the threat her subjects faced, but she couldn’t do that with what they had.

“And you are?” Celestia asked.

“RC-1138. The fellow in yellow is RC-1262, and the lad in green is RC-1140.”

Numbers for names. Curious.

“Well Mister… Three-Eight, is it?” The orange-striped alien nodded. “We came to meet Oh-Seven for two reasons. One was for the purposes of diplomacy, and the other was because we required an expert.”

“What kind of expert, exactly?” Three-Eight inquired. He was wary, although given the circumstances she would be too.

“Oh-Seven’s a dead-body-ologist, if it helps,” Six-Two chirped.

“Not helping,” Four-Oh reproached.

“Princess Luna is going to visit an area a few dozen miles from Trottingham to perform a ceremony in preparation for Nightmare Night. It is a very significant ceremony, but…”

“But it’s not just routine security detail. You don’t send commandos to guard a VIP doing holiday prep,” Three-Eight observed.

“There have been sightings of strange beings near the site, and the platoon of Royal Guards sent to investigate is missing,” Shining Armor explained. He displayed a mix of emotions about the situation; hope that they were alive, worry for their safety, and anger at his helplessness on the matter.

Luna, how long did the advisors say it was until the first legion is trained? We can’t rely on foreign benevolence to defend ourselves.

They estimated that the closest is the 5th Internal Security, who shall be ready within a week. The mix of magic and technology our soldiers use is impressive; other nations use modern projectile weaponry whilst we’ve relied on the ancient technology of spears and bows, but weaponized magic fused with “blasters” usable by all races could give us the edge we need in the border skirmishes with the Minotaurs. Not to mention the internal problems we send the Elements of Harmony to deal with much too often.

You’ve become obsessive about this project, you need to relax.

Tia, my sole responsibility has been raising the moon since I returned two years ago. You have not only been raising the sun, but also dealing with the countless day-to-day activities of running a country. While I appreciate you including me on the more significant decisions, I need to carry my proverbial weight. Merely waiting for a random event to allow me a brief influence is unacceptably lethargic. Now I have something that can make a lasting and positive impact on our subjects, and I shan’t surrender it.

You’re right. I’m being too protective of you, little sister.

You may be my elder by a mere seventeen months, but you caution is still justified. I understand.

***

“There have been sightings of strange beings near the site, and the platoon of Royal Guards sent to investigate is missing,” Shining Armor explained.

A silence ensued as the Princesses went silent, but snuck glances at each other consistent with a telepathic conversation. The Deltas had worked with telepaths before, but in this case they had their own telepathy. It was called “short-range comms”.

“Why do I get the feeling we’ve done something like this before?” Sev wondered to his squadmates.

“We did. The RAS Prosecutor op, remember?” Fixer reminded him.

“Well, the last two times I remember we split up to operate individually, it didn’t end well. One is an anomaly, two is a trend,” Scorch noted

“Which is why we’ll work in pairs if we have to split up again,” Boss stated, allaying any fears of another eventful separation.

“I am requesting the pleasure of your company, to put it diplomatically,” Luna broke the silence. “To put it bluntly, I need you to come with me to the town of Dragonsbridge to locate and eliminate whatever wretched gathering or entity has wrongfully welcomed itself upon hallowed ground.”

***

Coruscant showered and shaved, washing his black body glove in water to cleanse it of sweat and dead skin. It was nice to be clean. While the bodysuit dried, he stretched.

“Coruscant, I brought you some t-” Octavia began as she opened the door, only to stop when she saw him stark naked. Her eyes went wide and she blushed profusely, covering her mouth with her hoof, and slammed the door shut.

I don’t get why me being naked is such a big deal. Maybe their reproductive organs recede into their bodies whenever the owner wishes? That’d explain a taboo for a species that goes around naked. I wonder if normal people in the galaxy are as averse to nudity…

Coruscant once again pondered what real civilian life was like, not that he’d ever know. He was biologically twenty-four and chronologically twelve, and he’d be old before he could really figure out how civvies worked.

His body glove had dried by then, and he put it on. Next he went downstairs, with the intent to get something to clean his armor with. His field kit provided for maintaining his weapons and armor, but not for physically cleaning their exteriors.

Octavia was drinking tea of some kind, her violet eyes gazing into the hot liquid as she sipped. She glanced up and saw Coruscant in his bodysuit, which added some slight bulk with the padding, and was thicker in areas like the torso, knees, elbows, shoulders, boots, groin, and gloves. She gave a nervous smile.

“I’m terribly sorry about earlier. Was I interrupting private time?”

“No. I was just waiting for my body glove to dry after I washed it.”

Octavia sucked air through her teeth, looking down and to her left. “Um, do all humans have external reproductive organs?”

“Uhhh,” Coruscant squinted, not for any lack of an answer, but rather because even he could sense how awkward this was. “Yes. To my understanding, most species in the galaxy do. And I’m assuming that yours, ah, retract?”

“Yes. Let’s change the subject,” Octavia said rather hurriedly.

He looked up and sighed. “Oh thank you. Um, what was that music coming from your room last night?”

“It was a piece called ‘One Final Effort’, it was composed by Mustang O’Donnell and Micolt Salvatori. Did you like it?” Octavia was quite chipper in her tone.

“Yeah. Better than the half-music playing at that club I went to last night.”

“Oh finally! Somepony who agrees!” She threw her hooves up in the air in a mix of exasperation and celebration.

“I don’t hear much music, actually. Being in a profession like mine, my exposure to civilians has been extremely limited, save for FIBUA.”

The mare squinted as she tried to discern what he meant. “Fib-yoo-ah?”

“An acronym. Fighting In Built-Up Areas. Another term is FISH and CHIPS.”

“Isn’t that a meal omnivores eat?” Octavia queried.

“You know humans are omnivorous, right? Anyway, ‘FISH’ stands for ‘Fighting In Someone’s House’, and CHIPS stands for ‘Causing Havoc In People’s Streets’.” Coruscant chuckled at the acronym combination before straightening up. “Anyway, I came down here for some cleaning supplies and some food.”

Octavia indicated a platter of hot pancakes, so he took a plate and placed a stack on it. He drenched them in hot syrup and began to eat. A glass of cold milk was provided, and used to wash down the flapjacks.

A gray pegasus mare flew through an open window, landing on the counter and landing face-first in the leftover syrup on Coruscant’s plate.

“Uh-jff-dnn-dww-wuw-wew-wowg!” She said, her face still stuck to the plate and muffled by it. She pulled the plate off and licked the syrup from her face with an absurdly large tongue, then reached into a saddlebag and pulled out several envelopes of varying sizes, passing them to Octavia before launching herself clumsily back out the window.

“What in the galaxy was that?” Coruscant asked, visibly confused. His eyes squinted and he held his hands beside his head as he tried to make sense of whatever he had just seen.

“That was Derpy, the mailmare. She’s not a graceful pony, to say the least.” Octavia shuffled through the letters and magazines, reading them aloud. “Bills, bills, Game Informer, Dubstep Digest, Orchestral Enthusiast, bills, Popular Science, Newsweek, Time...” She widened her eyes as she reached the final envelope.

“What is it?”

“It’s from my mother. I haven’t heard from her in ages.” She opened the letter and unfolded the paper inside. “‘Dearest Octavia, I need your help with matters regarding your father’s estate. Please come as soon as you can, preferably alone. Love, Mother.’ That was bloody vague.” The mare cantered towards her room, and Coruscant followed.

“Are you going to check it out?”

“Yes, I am. I’ll leave a note for Vinyl explaining things. Oh, and there are cleaning supplies under every sink, so you’ll be able to clean whatever it was you were going to without too much hassle.”

Coruscant nodded. “Thanks.” He headed back to his room and began cleaning his armor. It wasn’t very dirty, still the silver-white sheen it had always had, but there were a few scuffs and bits of filth he could wash off. After finishing, he put his armor back on and began his exercise routine.

He couldn’t help thinking something about the letter requesting Octavia’s presence was off. His gut had never failed him before, but this was a matter his proverbial colon was unfamiliar with, leaving a significant margin for error. His brain told him it was probably nothing, but he still held suspicions about it.

Out of curiosity, he read one of the magazines that had arrived. It was nice that they had their written language was the same as Galactic Basic, same as their spoken one.

***

By late afternoon, Delta Squad was outside Dragonsbridge.

Luna resided in a small camp just a few dozen meters from the hamlet, protected by her elite Night Guard. Their bat-like features, dark coat and indigo armor were meant to intimidate, and their armor was enchanted to enhance their combat prowess as well as change their appearance to the one the Night Guard was known for.

Boss entered Luna’s tent to talk to her, only to be stopped by an overzealous guard. The sentry expected him to be intimidated, and was slightly interested when he wasn’t. His job got boring when almost everypony he met on the job was subdued by his appearance.

“And where do you think you’re going?” He demanded

Boss, who still wore his helmet for communications purposes, glanced at him without turning his head or slowing, thus giving the outward appearance that he’d ignored him. The bat-pony moved to block his path, glaring menacingly at him.

“Get your ugly shebs out of my way, chakaar,” Boss spat, shoving the guard aside and entering the main room of the tent, which was quite luxurious.

Boss found himself oddly entranced by Princess Luna’s flowing mane, and the starry night sky that seemed to be encompassed inside it. He found himself wishing he could just stick a bare hand into it to see what it felt like.

Focus. I’ve got my squad back together, and a VIP is under my protection. I’m thinking like one of those jokers in Omega Squad.

“Ah, Three-Eight. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” Luna smiled as she greeted him, and it seemed to be genuine. He was good at reading people, and these ponies seemed to have similarly readable features to species he’d worked with before.

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the warm welcomes.

“Ma’am, I need maps of the area if I’m to carry out a search-and-destroy mission.”

Luna levitated a trio of scrolls from a bin, a silver aura surrounding them as they hovered over to a table in the center of the room and unrolled themselves neatly upon the flat surface. Boss took quick scans of them with his datapad and transmitted the maps to his squad, then nodded a silent thanks to the Princess. Fixer would be able to convert them into a three-dimensional projection they’d be able to review from their datapads later.

“May I ask you a few questions, Three-Eight?”

Boss sighed quietly and looked straight at Luna, then nodded.

“How is it that you and your brothers can speak without any apparent mouths?”

“These are sealed helmets, part of our armor. I can speak to my squad remotely with it, among other things.”

“Could-” Luna cut herself off and bit her lower lip. “Could you please remove it for a moment, so I could see what you look like?”

Boss reluctantly removed the helmet and held it in his hands. He noticed a pleasant smell in the room without his helmet’s filters blocking it out.

“We’re clones, which is why they’re my ‘brothers’. Every clone in the Grand Army of the Republic looks like me, save for things like scars and surgeries. We’re all different, even if we look the same. My squad and I were bred to be commandos. A few thousand others were too. A few million are regulars, and a few dozen are... Are sort of like one-man commando teams.”

The Princess looked astonished to hear this. “Could you tell me- about- yourself?”

“There’s not much to tell. I uh, need to go prep for this op.”

Three-Eight exited the tent.

***

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Luna facehoofed multiple times after Three-Eight left. She was fortunate that the soles of her shoes were soft, or she would’ve given herself a bruise, or perhaps a bloody nose.

I should’ve expected this. I was always fond of the color orange, not that I ever said anything, and now I might’ve just alienated an extraterrestrial by almost hitting on him! Oh Mother, I’m an idiot.

No. I just found him more interesting because he had that color on his armor. It wasn't anything like that. And it sounds like he was bred for war, so he probably wouldn't have recognized it anyway. Still, that sounds like a grim existence. At least what we're building is a voluntary force.

***

Well that was… Odd.

Boss strode to the tent his squad was in, and Fixer hit a button on a datapad, and ghostly blue projections of the surrounding area winked into being, hovering centimeters above the wooden table they stood around. Locations where disappearances and sightings of the “strange beings” occurred were highlighted in red.

“Thoughts?” Boss requested.

“Terrain’s rough and mountainous. Not many trees either. Still plenty green, but cold this time of year,” Fixer answered.

“That means it’s good sniping terrain. I’ve only used five shots for my sniper since I got here,” Sev stated.

“How many hit? I bet you’ve gone soft from all the cushy civilian food,” Scorch teased.

“All five in their heads, mir’shebs.”

“Good to hear you haven’t gone soft.”

“Cut the chatter, Deltas,” Fixer reprimanded them. He was back to his usual detached self again.

Boss tapped each of the red points on the hologram. A number appeared above each, matching the order they were indicated in. “We check the abandoned shacks first. Then the house, then the farmstead. We’ll make our way uphill from there, and head to another house. Then we’ll finish at the stable. Questions?”

“No, sir,” Fixer answered.

“Nope,” Sev responded.

“Then we’re heading out now.”

Delta Squad exited their tent and headed to leave the royal camp. As they neared the edge of the temporary settlement, Luna approached them, flanked by two of her guards.

“Before you leave, I’d like to inquire if there is a way we could accompany or remain in contact with you, perhaps through your own means?” She requested.

“Yeah,” Scorch answered. “Fixer has two datapads. One for work, and one for playing his little puzzle games.”

Fixer stiffened visibly. “N-no I don’t.” His helmet may have been on, and his squad wore theirs as well, but he could still feel their stares through his armor. “Fine.”

***

It was 3 AM, and a phone was ringing in the white house (with a lavender roof).

Vinyl and Coruscant were awake, watching the entirety of “The Trotting Dead” on EMC as Nightmare Night approached. The television was on half-mute during the commercials when the phone rang.

Vinyl levitated the phone over, not moving from her couch, and answered.

“’Sup?”

“Is this Vinyl Scratch?” An somewhat aged female voice inquired, her accent reminiscent of Octavia’s.

“Yeah.” Vinyl munched on some popcorn, and glanced into the bowl. “Oh, buck me,” She muttered so the phone wouldn’t pick it up. “Hold on, I’m gonna put you on speaker.” The phone beeped and she put it on the table in front of her, ambling to the kitchen to make some more popcorn.

“Listen carefully. My daughter is back with me now, right where she belongs. I’m not trying to extort you, merely protect her from negative influences like you. Right dear?”

A muffled groan came through the phone.

“As I was saying, I’m enjoying a little private time with my daughter, and you’re specifically forbidden to attend. And don’t even think about trying to break in, I have the some of the best security guards money can buy.” The mare cackled madly.

Vinyl put on her sunglasses and responded to her, cold as ice. “I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you're looking for ransom, I can tell you I probably don't have the money, and if I do, I haggle very ineffectively. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a kinda long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for ponies like you. If you let my room-mate go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

“Oh. Well I thought it was pretty obvious I’m Octavia’s mother, High Note, and that I just wanted to be left alone with my daughter. Forever. You’re not getting her back, you can take that to the bank.”

“I’ll take you to the bank, Octavia’s mom. To the blood bank. Dun dun dun-dun-dun!” Vinyl hung up and trotted back over to the couch, plopping down on it. The commercials had just ended.

“Aren’t we going to save her?” Coruscant asked, checking the silver-white armor over his bodysuit. He’d kept it on and his weapons and gear nearby out of a professionalized paranoia, which had been increased by the show they watched.

“Eh. We’ve only got a few episodes left; Octy can wait a few more hours.”

***

Sev crawled to the edge of a hill and peered through the scope of his rifle, the waning moon at his back. He silently hoped for a target, though he knew he should instead be worried about the state of any civilians. “Structure 1 looks clear from this angle,” He announced. “No bad guys on thermal.”

“Move up, Deltas,” Boss commanded.

They gathered around the structure, or what was left of it. The wood had been charred in places, and had huge holes in it, seemingly blasted through.

“Looks like somebody got fed up with farming,” Scorch joked, noting that several of the holes were big enough that they could have been thrown through them without touching the edges.

Fixer inspected a side of the shack facing the way they would be heading. Sweeping his vision up and down, he noticed a slight discoloration. On a hunch, he headed to the corresponding inside wall and checked for a matching mark. He found one, and activated his helmet-mounted light, illuminating the wall.

“I think you’ll want to see this,” He said over their comms.

As the other commandos gathered round, he pointed to a scorch mark. “Looks like a stun shot missed. Slavers maybe?”

***

“Looks like a stun shot missed. Slavers maybe?”

So slavery was not unique to Equis. As horrifying as the notion of space enslavers was, with the weapons they likely had to match their technological advancement, Luna wasn’t surprised. In fact, she was a bit relieved to know her world was not the only one with such criminal activities.

“Maybe. This area isn’t technically under Republic control, so perhaps the Seps are allowing slave trade,” Three-Eight concurred. “Alright, let’s move out.”

***

A few minutes later, they came to a quaint homestead, constructed of dark wood that blended in with the night. Sev and Scorch watched the two paths that led to the building, with Fixer keeping a watch on the building. They all had their low-light visors activated, which turned their vision into a monochromatic spectrum of grays.

Boss approached the front door, his blaster rifle lowered but ready. He knocked on it. The sound of hooves on the wood inside began, coming downstairs to the front door. Several locks opened, and a weathered stallion poked his head out.

“What do you want?”

“What do you know about sightings of ‘strange beings’ in this area?”

Hesitation was all over his face, and he clearly had something scaring him, making him uneasy. Perhaps it was just the commando in front of him, but perhaps it was something else.

“I didn’t believe them. I heard the rumors, but I thought they were just that, rumors. Then last night…”

“Go on.”

“The farm was attacked. There was screaming and thunder last night. Something in the fields killed my son.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Boss, I’m reading heat sigs on my scope. Can’t make anything out, but they’re in the farm east of here,” Sev informed them over their comms.

“Carry on, citizen. Deltas, move out!”

They ran to the farmstead, covering the two hundred meters in a minute. Not their best time, but they were conserving energy. A barn door was open, which would allow them into the farm. Sev switched his rifle back to its normal blaster configuration.

Inside the barn were two Royal Guards, their armor bent and stained with blood. They were hung from meat hooks that had punctured the insides of their helmets. While there was nothing penetrating their craniums, the straps of their helmets held them above ground.

“If Princess Luna can hear this, we’ve got casualties. Two of the missing guards, both KIA.” Boss inspected their bodies, patting them down for any notes, scrolls, any sort of clues.

“I can hear, but I cannot see you.”

“Fierfek, I must’ve forgotten to give her a vid feed,” Fixer muttered. He pulled out his datapad and punched in a few commands. “There. A 2-D projection should be coming out on her end, onto a tent wall.”

“Ah, I see now…”

A photograph fell from one of them, depicting the former owner alive, with a mare and a filly. The other side of the picture indicated his name was Gem Lance.

“Positive ID on one of the bodies. One ‘Gem Lance’. Looks like he was clawed and bled out,” Boss announced.

Scorch peered out the other side of the barn through a crack in the door, his rifle ready. He quickly retracted his head and arm back inside, and pulled an EC detonator from his belt.

“Tangos, my count twelve. Ten slavers, two SBDs,” Scorch informed his squad. “Too spread out to use my anti-armor.”

“Line abreast!” Boss ordered. The four of them formed a line from shoulder-to-shoulder facing the barn door and raised their blasters. “On my mark, kick-breach, fire, and advance. Three, two, one, mark!”

Together, Delta squad kicked open the barn doors, Scorch threw an EC detonator at the two super battle droids, and they all opened fire.

The grenade exploded, releasing an electronic pulse. Both of the massive metallic monstrosities began to quiver as their internal systems overloaded. A salvo of blaster fire from Fixer finished the job.

Moving to cover, the warriors fired a series of bursts at their quarry. A pair of slavers dropped from the roof and onto Boss, knocking him over and leaving him cut off from the others.

One of the lizards looked into his visor and sprayed spittle onto it, while the other grabbed his legs. He gave the one on top a right hook, and then shanked its throat with the vibroblade in his left gauntlet. Green blood sprayed off as the hypersonic vibrations flung the liquid from the blade.

Boss pushed its corpse off and fired a burst into the chest of the slaver holding his legs, before pushing himself up. His scuffle had only lasted a few seconds, and he was back in the fight.

Scorch threw a thermal detonator to flush out a slaver behind cover, and the device exploded before the lizard could react. A second one ran towards him, literally on fire from the heat of the grenade; he kicked it in the chest and curb stomped its head.

Fixer and Sev finished off the last three with a torrent of blue light that washed over the Trandoshans and sent them face-first into the dirt.

“Never seen that combo before. Specifically, slavers with SBDs. Trandoshans and droids are becoming the new normal,” Sev noted.

***

“Calm down everypony, just a routine inspection,” The conductor yelled.

Coruscant and Vinyl Scratch had bought tickets for a train to Canterlot, intending to rescue Octavia. Vinyl mentioned that she had a few friends who could hook her up with prototype weapons in the city, made by the apparently prestigious Target Enterprises, but she didn’t go any further than that.

Now, it seemed their train was being inspected. What they were searching for he didn’t know, although he presumed that the white and gold Royal Guards were simply searching for anything dangerous.

While Coruscant was easily the most dangerous thing on the train, and proud of it, he presently hoped he would be perceived as nothing more than an oddity. If it came to that, he could still incapacitate them non-lethally with hand-to-hand combat or his pistol’s stun setting.

So he rested his right hand on the sidearm and flicked it to “stun”. He left the appendage there in case he needed to draw the weapon.

Slowly but surely, the guards advanced towards their end of the cabin. With each step, the commando’s grip grew tighter on his sidearm.

The guard and his partner finally reached them.

“ID and tick-”

Vinyl smiled at him comfortably. The stallion stared at her with ever-increasing intensity, and her mirrored glasses returned it two-fold.

“Problem?” Vinyl asked almost mockingly.

The guard looked at his partner, who nodded.

“Let’s get the buck out of here,” The other guard muttered. “Shift’s over.”

The constables left the carriage, and the train resumed travelling to the station on the other side of the city via an elevated track.

“That was close,” Vinyl grunted. “Hey Cory, you can let go of your piece now.”

Coruscant realized he’d been clenching his pistol since the guards had arrived, and kept gripping it after they left. His fingers had small indentations from gripping it, and his hand felt numb. He shook his wrist to get the blood flowing and waited the rest of the trip.

Author's Note

Originally, the Taken reference scene had a lot of fourth-wall breaking. However, since I got a lot of negative responses over it, I decided to modify it to be more of a straight reference. The list of accomplishments itself was inspired by a top comment on a Youtube clip of the scene, in which instead of saying "skills that make me a nightmare for people like you", Neeson's character references the many powerful characters and accomplishments he's portrayed as an actor (training Obi-Wan Kenobi and Batman, fighting off a pack of wolves, being a Greek god, killing several Enclave troopers with radiation but surviving way longer than they did in the same chamber, etc.).

The original version of the scene was as follows:

Vinyl put on her sunglasses and responded to her, cold as her ex-boyfriend’s sword. “I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that have allowed me to be a vampire, be constantly shipped with Octavia just because we’re both musicians, date a Bionicle character, clean dishes with music, wear sunglasses at night with just a full tank of gas and a half a pack of cigarettes, make pop culture references, change the color of my eyes at will, be in at least a dozen featured stories, and break the fourth wall. If you let my roommate go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

And for the record, she dated Kopaka, which is more something I pulled out of my ass because I thought it'd be funny.

7. Hostage Rescue

EYES ONLY

EXACTLY 28 DAYS AFTER RECEIVING THIS TRANSMISSION, THE REPUBLIC NAVY'S 67TH SQUADRON, 6TH FLEET (24 VESSELS) IS TO BE MOVED TO SEMI-CLASSIFIED STAR SYSTEM, COORDINATES ENCLOSED. ONE REGIMENT (2,300 UNITS) OF 501ST LEGION TO ACCOMPANY.

PLANET IS INHABITED BY SEVERAL NATIVE SENTIENT SPECIES, WHICH LACK TECHNOLOGICAL ABILITY TO LEAVE OWN PLANET. BECAUSE OF FAMILIARITY IN COUNTER-INSURGENCY, HOSTILE TERRAIN WARFARE AND ALIEN RECRUITMENT, ONE BRIGADE (9,200 UNITS) OF 41ST ELITE CORPS IS TO ACCOMPANY AS WELL, LED BY COMMANDER GREE, PENDING OTHER DEPLOYMENTS. 2 REGIMENTS (4,600 UNITS) GALACTIC MARINES TO ACCOMPANY FOR ASSAULT, LANDING AND BOARDING PURPOSES, LED BY COMMANDER BACARA.

GAR UNITS ALREADY ATTACHED TO SQUADRON ALSO REMAIN UNDER YOUR COMMAND.

BE ADVISED, LARGE PORTION OF INHABITANTS BELIEVED TO BE FORCE-SENSITIVE, BUT NOT CAPABLE OF HARNESSING ABILITIES FOR MOST PART (SEE PACKET I-04B).

REFER TO ATTACHED DATA PACKETS FOR MORE DETAILED INFORMATION INCLUDING OBJECTIVES.
(MESSAGE ENDS)
- Communique to commanding officer of RAS Incorruptible
***

Coruscant and Vinyl waited inside a cantina for the latter’s contact to show up. Meanwhile, several kinds of smoke wafted through the room, though the commando’s helmet filters blocked them out. One of the things the filters displayed seemed to be tetrahydrocannabinol, a psychoactive chemical that occurred in some plants.

“I should’ve brought a gas mask or something. Part of the conditions of me staying at Octy’s house is, well… I had to give up some things.” She looked at a hole the size of her hoof in one of the walls, clearly recalling some event. “Actually, I gave up on one of them willingly. That was a pretty bad trip.”

“Vinyl!” A male voice barked from a set of speakers. “You and your friend can come on back here now.”

Vinyl trotted through the crowded bar, and her friend followed her. They entered a back room, which ended in an elevator. With the mare leading he entered it, and after a brief ride they exited into an underground warehouse.

While his guide seemed at ease here, Coruscant was on edge, and absent-mindedly placed his hand on his pistol.

“Hey, relax bro,” The male voice from earlier said from behind him. Coruscant did no such thing and spun around to point his sidearm at a blackish creature, who seemed to combine avian and mammalian qualities. “Vinyl, tell your buddy to calm down,” He deadpanned.

“Coruscant, chill. This is Charcoal. He’s a griffon from the Ebon Hawk clan, and he’s a friend of mine.”

He re-holstered his weapon warily.

“Apologize, both of you.”

“Sorry for sneaking up on you,” Charcoal mumbled.

“Sorry for over-reacting,” Coruscant replied.

“Good, now deep tongue-kiss.”

“Nope.”

“No.

“Eh, I tried.” Vinyl shrugged. “Whaddaya got for me, Char?”

The griffon motioned for them to follow him. He led them to a group of large steel shipping containers near the other side of the room. One of them was open, and several smaller crates in midnight blue had been taken out of it and arranged in a neat semi-circle. He opened one to reveal a suit of white and black armor.

“You’re still the same size as last time I saw you, right?” Charcoal asked.

“Yeah?”

“Then this should fit you just fine. It’s a set of lightweight composite plates over a black bodysuit. Resistant to small-arms fire, and guaranteed to protect from CBRN threats when the helmet is sealed. This is the Mod 1 version, the Mod 2 is superior in pretty much every way, but it’s hard to get a hold of. Right now this is the best anypony can get on the black market. You uh, want me to help you put it on?”

“Sorry Char, but I know you’re a flank man. I got this.”

***

“Delta Squad, check the bodies. Access cards, keys, gear, anything we could use.”

Scorch rolled over a Trandoshan slaver after unpinning him from the ground. The unfortunate lizard’s arms had been pinned to the grass by the sleeves of its jumpsuit, with its own knives having nailed them to the dirt. There were a few scorch marks on its chest, probably from one of their rifles. He found a few thermal detonators in its pockets and put them in his own belt.

“Ooh.” He took the weapon lying by the corpse; an ACP array gun. The pump-action weapon fired accelerated charged particles in a random spread, like some slugthrowers were known to do. A powerful close-range weapon. The commando scavenged some extra ammunition and attached the weapon to a magnetic strip on his backpack before re-equipping his DC-17/m.

“Got something here, Deltas,” Fixer called out. “Looks like a transaction list. I recognize some of these names, they’re Confederacy shell companies.”

“Think they’re funding these lizards’ hunting trip, or just selling them surplus?” Sev asked.

“Inconclusive,” The hacker responded.

“So, they could just be exchanging limited edition copies of cantina music for all we know.” Scorch sighed. “Things can never be simple, can they?”

“No worries, ner vod. We still have lizards to kill,” Sev piped in.

“You always know just how to cheer me up.”

Boss extended an index finger and pointed it upwards, then spun it in a circle. The squad regrouped and readied to move.

***

This was an intense thing to watch. Luna had just seen four aliens slaughter a dozen of others methodically and efficiently. And the conversation after the fact indicated a lack of remorse; in fact it seemed to be fun to them.

But if the so-called “Confederacy” was funding slavers and scalp hunters like they seemed to be, then they were easily the darker of the two. At least these commandos’ faction, the “Republic” seemed benign, even if they employed warriors like these. Then again, who could blame them if their work made the galaxy a safer place?

I’m glad I pushed for this army. If life exists elsewhere, then we need to be able to defend ourselves from another range of threats.

A group of embattled Royal Guards appeared on Oh-Seven’s camera feed, then the others’ too.

“Boss, ponies under fire!” He announced.

“Sir, we can bypass these Trandoshans and hit their nest with less resistance if we leave them,” Four-Oh advised.

A brief pause came, which worried Luna. She wanted as few deaths as possible on her subjects’ side. It came down to mission versus morality for the aliens, and she had no expectation that they’d risk their lives for a hoof full of relatively primitive aliens. In fact, for a moment she felt she wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d left the Guards for dead.

I’ve spent too much time secluded if I could pass off lost lives, my subjects’ lives, like they were nothing. I’m not heartless for thinking that, am I?

“Deltas, friendlies need our help. Sev, Scorch, flank the attackers. Fixer, you and I’ll go up front and draw the Trandos’ fire. Move!”

***

Though he had never felt much remorse after seeing civilians die, Boss still preferred to defend them if possible. Perhaps that lack of remorse was a result of him simply being unable to save them in those cases, and if he’d let civvies die when he could’ve stopped it he would’ve felt guilt. He certainly felt satisfaction after saving lives.

Judging by the unpleasant feeling in his gut, it would be better to try and save them. And it’d only taken two-and-a-half seconds to decide.

“Deltas, friendlies need our help. Sev, Scorch, flank the attackers. Fixer, you and I’ll go up front and draw the Trandos’ fire. Move!”

“Copy, Delta lead!”

The red and yellow-marked clones moved to a position where they could fire on the Trandoshan mercenaries with relative impunity. After finding a suitable log to hide behind, they began firing.

Boss threw a flashbang at the attacking mercenaries, stunning them long enough for him and Fixer to get into position.

“Get out of here!” He yelled at the Royal Guards. The ponies were too frightened to move, so the two commandos took position near them to draw the enemy’s fire. Since they were taking cover behind a meter-high natural step, they did have a fair amount of protection, so perhaps it was more prudent for them to stay down.

A well-placed thermal detonator from Scorch obliterated several of the mercenaries and ignited another, which Sev euthanized with a headshot from his sniper rifle.

It would seem that mutually assured destruction was an idea familiar to Trandoshans, as another detonator flew towards the commandos and their fearful comrades.

“Grenade, move!”

Most of the Guards dispersed, but a couple still didn’t move. Boss wrapped his arms around their necks and moved away, while Fixer punted the explosive to a safe distance. It burst out of range, and the clones resumed firing on the lizards. After another minute of hectic combat, the enemy unit was gone.

“Form up!”

“Three-Eight?”

The commando halted, as did his squad. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Princess. Alright, you ponies get moving, because real warriors are here.”

“Yeah. We’re here to kick shebse and chew ration cubes.” Sev executed a merc that had feigned death with his sniper attachment.

“And we’re all outta ration cubes,” Scorch added.

With that, the Royal Guards retreated in the general direction of the town Luna was set up near. The moonlight illuminated their path, and they eventually disappeared from the clones’ vision. The squad headed towards their next objective, and reached it within a few minutes.

Boss motioned for them to hold. “Fixer, give me a remote and a control pad for it.”

Fixer handed him the fist-sized spherical drone he’d requested, and the control pad as well. He activated the device, and flew it to the house. A few orbits around the structure revealed a significant number of Trandoshans inside. By switching the filter, he detected several corpses inside, all ponies. No living ones though.

He handed the pad to Fixer, who recalled the drone and put it back in his gear. After assembling a schematic of the building, he handed the device back to his superior, who in turn searched for a good structural weak point.

It looked like a large mass of combustible material, apparently kerosene, was collected behind the house. Not a weak point, but just as good.

“Alright, there’s a tank of combustible liquid fuel behind that wooden structure, and a couple dozen lizards inside. No living civilians left either,” Boss explained. He glanced at Scorch.

“Boom?” The latter clone asked.

“Boom,” The former responded.

***

“Okay, so I’m guessing you have a plan?” Vinyl asked as she and her companion stared at a mansion from a nearby factory rooftop on the outskirts of the city. Vinyl had explained that some parts of Canterlot used to be part of a mining town that predated the capitol. Those older areas didn’t really have any zoning laws early on, which made it a really weird place to live even in the modern day; there were some normally sorted areas, and a few places where you had a private greenhouse next to a mansion, a corporate HQ and a convenience store.

“Yeah. I put some mini-EMP charges on the power lines while you were . There’re backups, but those only seem to route to the basic amenities like lights and heating. I trigger those EMPs, and it’ll be dark for a few minutes before the backups come on.”

Vinyl levitated a weapon, which looked suspiciously like the DC-15S blaster carbine used by the Grand Army of the Republic. After noting this aloud a few hours prior, Coruscant had to explain that his pistol’s designation was different, because the “S” was lowercase, although the two weapons shared many internal components. It was a similar scenario to confusing the DC-17/m rifle commandos used and the DC-17 hand blaster ARC troopers and some officer used, with a similar explanation.

He pulled out the clip on his rifle and removed the blaster attachment, replacing it with a grenade launcher one. While the primary purpose of that attachment was to fire expensive, bulky, heavy anti-armor grenades, it could also fire grappling hooks and ziplines among other things. And a zipline was exactly what he was using.

The commando attached a clamp to a part of the factory behind him, and secured the first side of the line. Then, he let loose the zip-shot and watched it spiral through the cold night air before impacting just above a window. He handed a harness to Vinyl and secured his own hook in front of hers.

Vinyl’s armor loosely resembled the older Phase I clone trooper armor, albeit fitted to an equine form. She’d put some paint on the armor, so while it was still mostly white, the torso, helmet, and flanks each had three diagonal stripes, with a red stripe in the middle flanked by two parallel blue stripes. The visor had a red stripe painted across it, probably so it’d imitate her eyes. Her tail was covered in a black glove that was sealed with the rest of the suit.

He drew his remote detonator and massaged the button with his thumb. “Lights out.” He pushed the button and shoved the device back into his belt, drawing his rifle. A nod was all he did to acknowledge the lights in the mansion had shut off.

After that gesture, he jumped and rode the zipline towards the mansion, and Vinyl followed behind him. This was one of Coruscant’s favorite methods of breaking into a building. He loved that flying sensation he got when he rode a zipline.

He could hear wind rush outside his helmet, and a few seconds before reaching the target he extended his legs. His boots shattered the glass, and he landed on the floor of a bedroom. He was on one knee and one hand, and he stood up in time to catch Vinyl.

Activating his low-light vision, he looked around and saw nobody besides him and Vinyl. However, footsteps could be heard outside, scraping against a carpet. A few seconds later, a griffon opened the door and Coruscant instinctively drove his gauntlet-blade into the creature’s skull.

He looked out the door, his blaster ready and partner behind him, and saw a few more griffons, all wielding slugthrowers.

“All using the OTs-14-1A Groza,” Vinyl quietly noted. “Usually the Trotva are the criminal group that uses those.”

“‘Trotva’?”

“Another name for the Unikrainian Mafia. They’re not actually one group, really it’s a catch-all term for the 6,000 organized crime groups from that country. More than 200 have international reach, but the one that really has a presence in Equestria is the ‘Odessaddle Mafia’. Anyway, these guys aren’t from part of that group. Probably just got a thing for Krany weapons.”

She stared at their weapons for a few more seconds. “Yeah, those are the military Grozas too. Grenade launcher and 7.62x39mm rounds. Least those are the smaller caliber ones, 9x39mm rounds scare the shit outta me.”

“My armor can take slugthrowers, I’ll take point.” He aimed down his sights and fired a pair of bursts at the guards from behind cover. “Let’s go.”

The pair began to move from room to room, searching for Octavia and clearing any thugs. Vinyl was eerily skilled at combat for a civilian, he’d definitely have to ask about that later.

Finally, after a few minutes of combat, they came to the doorway of a master bedroom, at which time the lights returned.

“Cover me.” Coruscant slipped a fiber-optic probe, something he called a “snake cam”, a standard tool for commandos prized in counter-terror operations, under the door and moved it around to survey the room. A large bed, screen, a computer, a couch, and a mare bound, gagged, blindfolded and strapped to a chair with an older mare next to her. “She’s in there. Watch my back, I’m breaching.”

He withdrew the gadget from the door and placed a low-yield breaching charge on the door. The item would blow wooden doors like this open and stun the occupants momentarily if they were close enough. A few button presses and it was armed.

A moment later, the charge detonated and the doors flew open, remaining on their hinges but blowing a small hole where the charge had been. Several bullets fired from inside the room hit the clone’s armor, but they simply flattened on his shields and dropped to the ground. Coruscant closed on her and ripped the weapon from her grip. Apparently ponies could manipulate objects without fingers and not just grab them, which still perplexed him.

After removing the weapon from play, he tossed it out the door. A pair of flex-cuffs were promptly secured around a gibbering High Note’s forehooves, their grip automatically tightening enough that the offender was unable to slip out of them.

Vinyl marched into the room, her blaster caressed by the glow of her crimson-colored magic.

The clone removed a gag from Octavia’s mouth, and she gasped for air. Then he cut the ties binding her to the chair, and removed the blindfold.

As she recognized her savior, she got onto her hind legs and hugged him, which caught him off-guard. Normally he was averse to the notion of aliens wrapping any form of limbs around him, or making physical contact with him in any way whatsoever. For some reason, this was different, and welcome.

“Coruscant! Oh thank Celestia you came. My mother is insane, and she has the worst taste in movies. We watched… I don’t even want to talk about it.” Octavia shuddered.

“Hey Octy!” Vinyl greeted her. She removed her helmet to show her face and holstered her blaster. After trotting over, she crushed her friend in a hug.

“You’re- Choking- Me!” Octavia rasped as she hugged her back.

Vinyl let go and grinned sheepishly. “Oops. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” She responded after a deep breath. “How did you get past the guards?”

“Did you miss the part where the lights were out for several minutes? Oh, right. Blindfold.” Vinyl facehoofed.

“Twelve of the guards KIA, no other casualties,” Coruscant deadpanned. “I think we should exfil. Local LEOs are probably en route, and we don’t want to be here when they arrive.”

“Wait, what?”

“He means that we need to hoof it before the five-oh gets here.”

“Oh. We should probably do that.”

***

Boss mashed the big red button on his detonator, and watched with his team- and Luna by proxy- as the structure containing dozens of Trandoshans was erased from the face of the planet by a single charge, assisted by a tank of kerosene.

After staring at the flaming husk of a structure for a few moments, the team turned away, although Scorch turned last, and reluctantly.

“You guys have no appreciation for art, you know that?” The demolitions expert groused.

“Lock it down, we’re headed for the last objective,” Boss ordered. “The stable is half a klick east, so let’s move.”

The clones sprinted to their objective, covering 400 meters in two minutes. A hundred meters from the target, Boss signaled his brothers to hold.

“Sev, take up a sniper position. Fixer, get a remote down there. Scorch and I’ll watch your backs. I want to know what we’re dealing with.” Boss delivered the orders quietly, and began to survey the area. The team followed them with similarly little noise.

“Thermals on the drone show multiple targets inside,” Fixer noted.

“How many?”

“My count, fourteen. All wets, Trandos by the looks of it. Let me switch to EM… No clankers in the target zone.”

“Ner’vode…” Sev said, a worried inflection plain to his brothers.
“Elek?” He responded. Not much bothered Sev, so when something worried him, it was a little disconcerting.

“I can see a Trando heavy babysitting six civilians.”

“Okay, I got the heavy on thermal. If he’s a heavy, the other signals must be mercs.”

“So we’re gonna storm a cramped building, where we’re taking on seven mercs and a heavy?” Scorch inquired.

“That’s about the size of it,” Came the answer.

“Well, at least the job never gets boring.”

“Sev, there’s a piece of cover thirty meters from this side of the building. Move there and wait for my order to neutralize the heavy. Scorch, Fixer, we’re moving to the back. Oya!”

Sev rushed to the spot Boss had indicated, and the rest of them snuck around to the back door of the stable. It seemed more like an inn, actually.

Scorch drew his newly acquired ACP array gun and pumped it. “Waiting on you, Boss,” He chimed.

“On three. One… Two… Three!”

Fixer kicked down the door and threw in a flashbang. The device rolled for a couple seconds before releasing a thunderous blast and a blinding flash of light. The commandos’ visors darkened for a tiny fraction of a second to compensate for the weapon’s effect, and their helmets sealed out most of the sound. The three of them rushed in.

“Tango down!” Sev shouted over the comms. A large thud came from the next room over, presumably the heavy falling to the ground.

Scorch slammed the butt of his weapon into one merc’s skull, stunning him long enough to deliver a blast to the face. The accelerated charged particles the weapon fired left small pits in the lizard’s face as they entered, and jade-colored blood exited the other side of its head. He pumped a new cartridge into place and fired another blast into the abdomen of a second Trandoshan.

Fixer slashed the neck of a mercenary wielding an LJ-50 concussion rifle, and fired a two-second burst into its chest to ensure a kill. He didn’t want to wait half a minute for the alien to bleed out. A second one attempted to stab him with the stinger-like blade on their gauntlet, which extended during the punch for extra impact. He dodged it with a sidestep and kicked the merc in the back, knocking him to the ground. A three-round burst left a black pit in the back of its head.

Boss rushed into the room where the civilians were, and stabbed one of the lizards in the forehead. The next one charged towards him, howling mad. He delivered two quick shots, one to each kneecap, and delivered an immediate coup-de-grace third shot as it fell forwards. It hit the ground dead.

The last enemy was slammed in their upper back by Scorch and fell flat on their face, and was promptly stomped on the head. “That,” He said over their private link. “Is an ex-enemy.”

“Sev, come on over,” Boss ordered through the comms. “Reload, Deltas.”

“On my way.”

After the squad reloaded their weapons, Boss turned to the frightened civilians and knelt to put himself on their level, hopefully making himself less threatening. Since the squad’s helmets had been sealed, none of their chatter had been heard by the former hostages, who as a result wouldn’t even know if they spoke Basic.

“Are you alright?” He asked them.

“Y-yes?” An older male answered hesitantly.

8. Nightmare Night

"I don't feel like a Republic citizen because none of us are."
― RC-8015 “Fi”
***

“You did well, Delta Squad,” Princess Luna said, praising the clones as they returned to her camp.

“It was our pleasure,” Boss replied, his tone that of one who was praised for an achievement they were already proud of.

“You may stay in one of our tents until we return to Canterlot. After the festival, we will return you to Ponyville. If you’d like, you and your brothers may join in the festivities tomorrow night.”

“Thank you ma’am, but we’re uh, not sure the locals would take too kindly to us,” The clone replied nervously.

He didn’t like the way civilians looked at him. Even undercover with Omega Team on Coruscant a year earlier he’d been in clone fatigues, and been looked at as an oddity. He hated that look civilians gave him, as though he were a museum piece that one tried not be caught staring at. To the galaxy at large, clones were organic droids, with relatively few thinking of them as real people. They weren’t even Republic citizens.

And if he caught that kind of look among those who knew what he was, what would ponies think of foreigners among them? From what he could tell, some of the planet hadn’t been explored, so perhaps they didn’t think him extraterrestrial, merely foreign. But if he wasn’t even a citizen of the government he was bred to fight for, what chance did he have here?

He snapped himself out of that depressing train of thought. He already had enough on his plate without personal insecurities.

“I can make sure they don’t cause you four any trouble,”

“Well, unless you can turn us into ponies, I don’t see that happening,” Scorch remarked.

“Transmutation spells? I don’t believe those exist.”

***

“I did it, Bon-Bon!”

“What did you do this time Lyra?” Bon-Bon asked.

“I finally completed a pony-to-human transformation spell!” The mare answered giddily.

“I’m sure your tulpa will be so happy,” She deadpanned.

“Hey! He has feelings too! Right, Anon?”

***

“Well then, I guess we’re staying in,” Sev said without much disappointment.

“I’d like at least one of you to come with me. A precaution in case something happens at the festival. You can communicate over distances, yes?” Luna inquired

“That’s right. My armor has the strongest comm amplifier of the four of us, but we all have a minimum comm range of three thousand kilometers even through most types of ECM.” Fixer confirmed.

“In other words, any one of us will do.”

“I ran a few tests, and I can hook up to your castle in an emergency to deliver a message. Expecting something bad, ma’am?” The hacker replied.

“No, just a precaution,” She answered.

“So Fixer would stay at the camp to be a sort of courier in case of trouble. Sev isn’t exactly sociable, and I’m uh-” Scorch said before being cut off.

“A crazy Mando’ad with a penchant for property damage?” Sev interrupted.

“Actually, I was gonna say I’m more of a dinner party guy, but that works too.”

“Fierfek,” Boss muttered under his breath. “I‘ll go.”

“Given that tomorrow is Nightmare Night, and most ponies shall be dressed in costumes, I don’t believe they’ll as scared of you as you think,” Luna said, assuaging his fears somewhat.

But only somewhat.

***

“Oh bed, I missed you so much,” Octavia said as she awoke in her own room and rolled over on her mattress. “That chair had the most awful ergonomics…”

There was no work that day, and none that night. Nightmare Night was a holiday for most groups of ponies, and classical musicians were one of them. And after her stressful captivity, she felt she deserved to sleep in.

Of course, the universe had other plans.

The glass of water on her bedside table began to shake, the water rippling to the beat of Vinyl’s music.

“Happy Nightmare Night- Day- Morning? Ah, whatever! Zombie time!”

The musician heard a raspy moan from behind her, and she rolled over to see a disturbing figure standing at her bedside. A stallion with a mostly-absent coat, unhinged jawbone, decaying flesh, and sunken eyes shook with what she could only assume was the anticipation of a kill.

She shrieked and fell out of bed, grunting as she hit the floor. A couple rooms over, she heard Coruscant’s pistol fire thrice.

“Time: 2.1 seconds! Nice work, Cory!” Vinyl shouted from outside

Remove the head or destroy the brain! Remove the head or destroy the brain!

She looked for the pistol Vinyl had given her a few months prior, and found it under her bed. She grabbed it, then pointed what she believed to be the dangerous end at the shambling zombie, before realizing she had no idea how to use a gun. She tossed it to the floor, ignorant of firearm safety, and looked for something else.

Reaching for one of her medals, she grabbed the object and swung it around, using it to bludgeon the cadaver’s head.

“Time: 5.4 seconds! If that were a real zombie you’d be dead by now Tavi!” Vinyl scolded. “Okay, I’m removing the barricades now.”

Some scraping from outside came through the door. As soon as it could be opened, Octavia kicked down her door, seething with anger. She pounced on her roommate and began throttling her.

“One day! One day without your antics! I just wanted to rest after a nasty experience, and you scare me half to death! And this awful noise you woke me up with damn well doesn’t help!”

“I find your lack of taste disturbing,” The DJ choked out. She hit the other mare with a blast of magic to remove her and got up. After shaking her head a bit and clearing her throat, she smiled at the very pony who had just been choking her and was currently grinding her teeth. “So uh, pancakes sound good?” She asked casually.

Octavia sighed, letting go of her anger. “Yes, that sounds good.”

Coruscant just shook his head and walked downstairs. He was going to need his armor today if that prank wasn’t alone, and he was glad he was wearing it right then.

***

Shining Armor stood on a podium raised a yard and a half above the ground and facing a battalion of uniformed soldiers. That battalion was the first of their unit, and the entire program to finish their training and thus the first unit of the Royal Equestrian Army. By completing ahead of schedule, they inadvertently became the ones to make history as the first unit of the Royal Equestrian Armed Forces.

The rest of their brigade was projected to finish in a week, the defensive formations of all service branches in two weeks, and the REAF itself to become fully operational within merely a month. There, in the Canterlot Gardens, the soldiers awaited the delivery of the speech he’d prepared for them.

He took a breath and looked out at the massive group before him. All of them were in full combat dress, wearing armor of the 5th Internal Security Brigade and with black TR-5 rifles slung across their backs.

The weapons fired charges of magic at high velocity, and could be quickly tuned to alter the properties of the bolts; various lethal, stun, illumination and welding permutations were possible on a single weapon without spending more than ten seconds. They were selective-fire and featured a charge counter just below the electronic sights. The closest traditional weapon a visual comparison could be drawn to was the Foalbrique Nationale F2000 Tactical, with a low-profile scope. Their TP-5 sidearms were similar to the Five-seveN made by the same company.

They all wore the same white armor, with inward-facing diagonal blue stripes, which were located on the right side of the helmet above the visor, the left segment of the chestpiece, and the left thigh. The suits were the more rugged and effective Phase-II, capable of protecting the wearer in a wide range of environments, and providing protection on par with the conventional ceramic-based armor most nations used.

Their purpose as a unit was simple and unambiguous: they would defend Equestria from all threats within her borders. In the event of an invasion, they would aid in repelling the aggressors, but never enter another nation, leaving that to other units. Internal threats such as hostile creatures and insurgencies were also within their purview. However, the present battalion was only a portion of the 5th IS.

“Fillies and gentlecolts,” Shining began, speaking into the microphone before him. “Today, the 1st Battalion, 5th Internal Security Brigade has made history as the first operational unit of the Royal Equestrian Army. And it’s because even among the best of the five Internal Security brigades, your battalion showed the best overall teamwork and the most efficiency. As the first and premiere unit in our defensive formations, you have been given orders to continue your training and prepare for a public reveal when the rest of the REAF’s defensive formations become operational in two weeks. At that time, you are to ready yourselves, your armor, and your weapons for a parade.”

“Sir!” The response thundered.

Had the garden not been visually and audibly insulated, that gathering would’ve been the single worst leak in modern Equestrian history. But strict vetting of the initial candidates, combined with legally binding contracts, some magic, and good-old-fashioned paranoia had kept the currently 50,000 strong military a complete secret. After its public announcement at the parade, it was expected to grow twentyfold from that size within a year, with more conservative estimates closer to a tenfold increase.

“With the already mighty abilities of Equestria, the addition of an unmatched fighting force will bring about a new age of peace throughout the continent, and the world. A Pax Equus.”

***

“What’re you doing?” Fixer asked his brother as he reclined on a chair, looking up from his datapad.

Scorch outwardly ignored him, cleaning his newly-acquired ACP array gun. “Just taking care of my new toy. These Trando weapons are pretty durable, almost never jam or overheat, but if they don’t stay clean they don’t work as good. Not as consistent as the Deece we use, but pretty good. Besides, I figure a dedicated close-range weapon rounds out my arsenal. Still, I’d rather have a Merr-Sonn CR-24 flame rifle than this if I had to choose.”

Fixer set down his datapad and sighed.

“Yeah. You know what I’d want?”

“What?” Sev asked, joining into the conversation. He was running out of ways to stave off boredom, and he decided that this was a good choice for the moment.

“One of those EMP launchers they issue to Jet Troopers. That’d be nice against SBDs and Droidekas.”

“Eh, I guess,” Scorch conceded. “Fierfek, this is boring. There was plenty to do back at that farm, but now we’re just waiting here for something to happen.”

“At least you won’t be playing bodyguard for a pony princess tonight,” Boss remarked. “I might as well take a nap, I could be up all night and I don’t want to rely on stims unless I have to. We’ve only got so many.”

Every commando carried a bottle of stims with them. The small capsules would keep a human wide-awake and reduce fatigue for 12 hours each, essentially being sleep in pill form. But once they wore off, the fatigue from before the item’s use would return. They were extremely useful, but that also meant that they were only used as needed.

“Wake me an hour before sunset or when the aruetiise want me, whichever comes first.” He laid down on a cot and shut his eyes, quickly drifting off.

“Got it, Boss,” Scorch affirmed before twitching his nose. “I don’t know about you ner’vode, but I’m wondering what they have to eat.”

“You have ration cubes, eat those,” Fixer said, as a mother would to her child. Not that he’d know, since the closest experience he had to a mother was a gestation tube.

“But those are so boring. Besides, those last forever and they’re practically a superfood, so they fall into the same category as our stims in my opinion. I smell something sweet, and we don’t get to eat good food often. Might as well enjoy what we can and meter out our rations to pick up the nutritional slack.”

The slicer and second-in-command thought for a few moments. “Haili cetare. Eat your fill.”

“Vor’e!” Scorch exclaimed as he grabbed his helmet and walked outside the tent. The two commandos still awake in the tent could hear him breathe in the air outside, enjoying the relative peace and luxury.

Sev just shrugged. “Kaysh guur’skraan.”

***

“So Vinyl, when are you going to tell us how you learned to fight? I’m pretty curious how you and Coruscant got past all of my mother’s guards,” Octavia asked in between bites of the pancakes in front of her.

Vinyl’s jaw went slack for a moment. “Uhhhhhhh…” She pointed at the human next to her. “He did it!”

“No, you got more than a few of them yourself,” He replied. His chewing slowed as he pondered the question himself. “You also seemed pretty knowledgeable about crime, and you had a few contacts help us.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“We’re not in court Vinyl.”

“Oh, right. Okay, just gimme a minute.”

“A minute to do what?”

“To think of more ways to delay your answer until you either forget what you were asking or give up.”

“Vinyl!”

“I’m sorry.”

“We both know you’re not sorry,” Octavia said.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

Several moments of silence passed before anypony spoke again.

“Uh, Vinyl?” Coruscant reminded her.

“Well, you all know I’m from the city, and that’s where I made my debut on the club scene. You probably know big-city nightlife isn’t exactly the most reputable. When one of the gangs in Manehattan started an extortion racket on my club, I had to go for help. And my help dragged me into the criminal underworld, where I freelanced for a few years before I got tired of it and moved out here. I took the train to Canterlot, then the train to Ponyville from there.”

Octavia spit her hot tea all over Coruscant’s face, prompting him to get up and head to the sink to wash his face off. “So when I first met you a few years ago, you were running from a life of crime? You could’ve gotten me killed by hitponies just by sitting next to me!”

“Well, I was never caught, and I was only a suspect in one case… Buck, that last job went to shit. Dead cops and civilians, everypony turning on each other… I still got a bag of diamonds too hot to fence more than one at a time. But being a freelancer meant a lot more freedom than being in a gang, so there probably wasn’t much risk of hitmares chasing me.”

Octavia sighed and rested her forehead in her hoof. “Wow. This explains a lot.”

“Yep. Now I just play video games, watch TV and shitpost all day, DJ all night, and rake in the cash.” She grinned with pride.

“Then why did you tell me you needed somepony to help pay for a house?” Octavia said. Coruscant took a seat next to her his time, reasoning he was less likely to be sprayed by tea again there than he was directly across from her.

“Two reasons. One, it drew a lot less attention than buying a house all by myself, being a celebrity and all. Two, you’re kinda hot.”

Once again, the classically-trained musician sprayed more of the hot liquid over the clone’s face, and once again he got up to wash it off.

“You’re a fillyfooler?” She perked an eyebrow. It was hard to find a single stallion in Ponyville, so she’d been out of the dating game like always. The thought that Vinyl had more options than her explained her less… Frustrated outlook on life.

“Well, I wouldn’t use that word, and no, I’m bi. Before you say anything, don’t worry, you’re not my type.”

Coruscant returned to the table, this time sitting at a different side relative to both mares.

“So Cory, what’re you doing Nightmare Night?” She asked.

“Playing video games, exercising, sleeping. You know, typical badass shut-in stuff.”

Vinyl wiped a tear from her eye and smiled. “Awww, he made his first swear.”

“Second actually, at least in your presence. Remember when you told me I had two more games to go?” He responded.

“Oh, right. Well, you ruined the moment. So Octy, why didn’t you use the gun I got you last Zombie Awareness Day?”

“I didn’t know how to use it,” She answered with a shrug.

“Oh. I thought all earth ponies knew how to use a gun.”

“Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, time out. You assumed, based on the ‘earth ponies are rednecks’ stereotype, that I’d just know how to use a gun with no prior experience?”

“Exactly!” She chimed, smiling as she spoke. “Well, actually the stereotype is that you ponies all have some redneck characteristics.”

"What do you mean, 'you ponies'?"

"Nothing!"

“Well, I can tell you that stereotype is utter toss. I’ve never touched a gun in my life before this morning.”

“Yeah, I kinda realized that after you pointed the butt at the zombie instead of the barrel. Which makes sense, most big cities have strong anti-gun laws.”

“You have cameras in my-”

“Nope, just on the fake zombies.”

Octavia slouched and sighed, her eyelids half-closed in resignation. “Of course, part of your little game. Am I going to have to watch out for more pranks on your part? I don’t want to be worn out for the costume party tonight.”

Vinyl produced a small rectangular device and began to speak into it.

“Pinkie? Yeah, it’s Vinyl. I need you to call it off. Pi- Pinkie. Pinkie! Just calm down, okay? All you need to do is call off the pranks I arranged… Yes, I know you have a no-refunds policy. You can’t call it off? Oh. You’re using a network hub to run it? What model hub? Just look on the casing, give me the make and model. Shiiit. Okay, that’s not a normal commercial hub, it’s a modified trigger for use with large quantities of remote-detonated explosives.”

The last three words shot Coruscant’s eyes wide open as he saw Octavia’s surprise. He dove to the ground to avoid another spray of tea, narrowly missing that third burst. The commando got back up and returned to his seat.

“No. Pin- Pinkie. Pinkie! Just calm down! Did you connect it to explosives? Then you’re fine. Yeah, I can walk you through disarming it. Well, if you mess it up all those pranks are gonna go off a once. Now open the casing. Good. You should see twelve wires, with matching colors grouped together. No, I don’t care what you saw on TV, do not cut the red one. I’m gonna tell you what you have to do, and I want you to memorize it. Once you cut that first wire, you’ll have to disarm it in the following ten seconds or you’ll trigger the fail-safe and the pranks will go off.”

“Vinyl, what kind of pranks are we talking about here?” Coruscant asked, considering putting on his helmet as he spoke. Her response was to simply raise a hoof at him to quiet him down.

“Okay. From left-to-right there should be two yellow wires, a white wire, a red wire, three blue wires, a yellow-green wire, another three lime-green, and an orange wire. What? Which part was confusing you? Lime-green is not the same as yellow-green. When I say ‘lime green’, I mean it’s a dark green, like on an actual lime. I don’t care if everypony uses lime-green and yellow-green interchangeably! Look Pinkie, just let me tell you what to do…”

“Let’s see what’s on the telly,” Octavia said with an exasperated sigh as her friend spoke on the phone.

“Yeah,” He replied. “And I’d appreciate if you leave the tea back there.” He smirked at the end of the sentence.

“Right, sorry about that.” The charcoal mare flattened her ears in shame.

“It’s fine. Just don’t let it happen again.”

***

Protection detail. This was the first time Boss had actually done it outside of training, and he already hated it. All the dressed-up ponies who looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion. Setting his HUD to display a full 360-degree field of vision just worsened it, as he saw what displays of emotion the townsfolk didn’t want him to. Immediately after his charge’s speech, he saw the mixed reactions from the present company.

“Looks like I’m a big hit with the locals,” He said sarcastically.

“I wouldn’t be so sure it’s you they abhor,” Princess Luna sighed. “Besides, there are entire continents that remain largely unexplored because of our lack of long-range transportation, so they’re more likely to view you as a stranger from a strange land than an… Alien,” She continued, whispering that last word.

“Alright then, if it’s not xenophobia, what is it? I get enough treatment as the ‘other’ from most people I meet, including Republic citizens. If you’re going to convince me I’m not getting that from livestock too now, then I need a damn good reason.”

As the two of them made their way through the festival, heads continued to turn. Assuming they thought he was a foreigner, they’d probably also think he was a dignitary or other high-ranking official, given that he was walking with one of their leaders.

They reached a jousting match and found a closed booth reserved for nobility. In the absence of any others present in the accommodation, Boss and Luna took seats inside.

“I’m still relatively young by alicorn standards, around a thousand years, like my sister Celestia. Princess Cadence is mere decades old. But for most of my life, I was on the moon. And even then, my actual presence there could be philosophically debated,” Princess Luna began to explain, picking up from a few minutes prior.

“The moon?” Boss repeated incredulously. He remembered the report his squad’s advisor had given him. They hadn’t landed on their own moon. He took his helmet off and smelled the air, no longer needing a complete field of view because he was inside of a box.

“My sister was responsible for the raising the sun, and day. I was responsible for raising the moon, tending the stars, and the night.”

Doubtful. Maybe they’re linked to their planet’s rotation?

“Over time, I grew jealous of my sister. The ponies adored her, frolicked in the day, yet precious few took time to enjoy all that I had wrought. Even for a people that slept at night, they neglected to relish my works. A dozen celebrations for Celestia, and not one for me. Eventually, my angst, envy, anger, all coalesced into a second entity in my mind. An entity known as Nightmare Moon.”

“Go on. This is more interesting than most of the osik I hear.” He meant it, although most stories he heard from civilians were rather dull. He had a feeling this would be similar to a Jedi lecture on "The Dark Side", but with an example of how such corruption was applied.

Nonetheless, she was encouraged by his reaction and continued.

“Nightmare Moon took control of my body, corrupted me physically and mentally. She refused to lower the moon, insisting upon eternal night. As my sister desperately tried to reason with me, I forgave her. Nightmare Moon however, did not. I watched with horror over the next several months as my own body committed crimes beyond most ponies’ imagination, a silent and helpless passenger in a body no longer my own. Celestia found me, and they fought for hours. Finally, she forced a bond with the Elements of Harmony and banished us to the moon. That was a thousand and three years ago, and each Nightmare Night is a celebration of that event. They see it as a holiday commemorating the punishment of a criminal, but only my sister recognized it was equally of my own damnation.”

She snorted in irritation as the jousters in the arena below missed each other.

“For a millenium, I shared a body with that thing, stranded and alone on a barren rock. Only able to observe the world as I was mostly forgotten, only her sins remembered byponykind as my own. A sort of link formed between our minds over time, and I began to think of myself as part of her. I began to accept and aid her plot for revenge, feeling betrayed by my sister. And a thousand years later we returned to bring eternal night. But the Elements of Harmony found their true Bearers, and gained the power to cleanse me of her influence. A few hours of unexpected night and sparse chaos were all our plans wrought.”

She sighed, clearly struggling with emotions associated with the memories.

“I begged my sister for forgiveness, weakened by the Elements’ immense and righteous power to the form of an adolescent. And in her grace she accepted.”

Tears began to stream down her cheeks, though she seemed unaware of them, her features still indicative of angst.

“But because of that link, strengthened over a thousand years of solitude, I know that some of Nightmare Moon still resides within me. And in Tartarus, part of me resides with her. My anger, arrogance, antisocial behavior, adherence to decorum, even my occasional use of the word “we” to refer to myself, they’re all remnants of a bond not cleanly broken.”

There was a brief pause as the jousters switched out.

“Thank you for listening. Nopony else will. Every time I try to talk about it with Celestia, she insists it’s the past, nothing to worry about. And she’s the only one I can guide to that topic without the conversation being deliberately steered away from it.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Boss replied, silently wondering if he could entrust her with his own demons.

“You look concerned, is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?” Luna asked, visibly worried.

“No… No, I’m just worried about how I’m going to track down more CIS forces on this planet in the next month. I heard from a reliable source our initial target was destroyed a while ago, but our primary objective is to eliminate all Separatist facilities we find over the next month. We’ll probably be stay a while after that, but I don’t know how long.”

That was more of a half-lie than a half-truth. He was concerned about that, but at the moment he hadn’t been worrying over that issue.

“If we need your help, we shall find you. For now, let’s enjoy what little time off we have, Three-Eight.”

“Ma’am, if you let me call you ‘Luna’ when we’re not in public, I’ll let you use my name,” He proposed.

“It is ‘Boss’, correct?” By then, her tears were gone, no trace of them remaining.

“Yeah. A bit odd for a Princess to refer to a noncom as that. How about ‘Alor’? It means the same thing in Mando’a.”

Luna placed a hoof on her chin contemplatively. “Is that the language I’ve heard you and your brothers mix with Equestrian?”

“Yes. It’s the Mandolorian language, something most commandos and all ARC troopers know. General infantry aren’t too fond of it though.”

“I see. We shall use them out of the public eye for appearance’s sake.”

“Right then.” Boss put his helmet back in place, the missing piece of his armor sealing with a hiss as it was replaced. “Where to next, Luna?”

***

“You can’t go as yourself Cory, that defeats the whole point of Nightmare Night!” Vinyl berated him. “I mean sure, Octy’s gone as a horswolf the last… However many years she’s gone as a horswolf, plus the ones she’s lived here, but at least she’s dressing up!”

“Look, between my anti-histamines-” Octavia retorted, or attempted to.

“Your what?” Vinyl asked.

“It’s a pill. I’m allergic to dust. And cats. Then there’s my inhaler for asthma. And I have to have my sucrocapsinol shipped here from Canterlot because the doctors in Ponyville don’t have it. My old doctor prescribed it for my headaches. I can’t really afford as many luxuries as Vinyl on account of that, so there’s really no budget for a new costume. Besides, you’ve gone as a vampire as long as I’ve known you!”

“Well at least I went as a different vampire each time!”

Coruscant took a few steps back from their argument, silently amused at their conflict.

“So you showed a modicum of originality in your costumes? At least I don’t rip off Deadca7!”

The DJ gasped, taken aback by this assertion. She removed her shades, lowered her brow, and bit her lip. “Bitch, it’s on like Unicon!” She threw a stack of fifty-bit bills at her, produced from her saddlebag which laid on the floor. “Go buy a new costume. We’ll meet up at Pinkie’s Nightmare Night party. Whoever has the better costume wins. If I win, I don’t have to do chores for the rest of the week. You have to do my chores, your chores, and wear a maid outfit!”

The cellist narrowed her eyes. “If I win, you have to do both our chores for a week, and wear red clothing the entire time. Deal?” That was a hard bargain. Vinyl was scared to death of wearing red clothing, having associated it early in her life with terrible and pointless death.

“If I win you get embarrassed, and if you win I could die? Deal!”

***

The two mares arrived at the party a few hours later, with all kinds of soda, cake, candy and other sugary treats being present in abundance. There were quite a few good costumes present, with about half of the partygoers in costumes of recognizable characters. The other half, wearing generic costumes, were what Nightmare Night aficionados, of whom there were many in Ponyville, would call “filthy casuals”.

The party was just outside of Ponyville’s limits and not far from Sweet Apple Acres. The area was lit by a couple dozen lanterns, but was still fairly dim. After all, who wanted to celebrate the holiday in a bright area?

Both Octavia and Vinyl were determined not to end up in the shameful group this year, mostly due to their bet.
The charcoal mare sauntered into the crowd, righting her fedora. A coiled bullwhip was concealed under her leather jacket, and her clothes simulated signs of heavy usage.

Coruscant followed, wearing his armor and bringing a few extra bits. His helmet was covered by a mask that matched his pale armor. It was rounded into an almost perfect circle when viewed from the front, and featured a trio of lenses where the right eye would have been. The only label on the mask’s original package was “Kanohi Akaku”, and came with two other items in a bundle. He carried a sword as well, the same snow-white as the rest of his ensemble, and an identically-colored circular shield that resembled ice frozen over a plastoid frame.

Of course, to his present company he was just somepony with a very elaborate costume.

“Nice costume, Cory!” Vinyl said from behind them, prompting the pair to turn to face her. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Vinyl wore almost entirely black. Black bottoms, a black combat vest, a black trenchcoat that made her look bigger than she really was, and her normal shades were tinted black.

“How can you even see, wearing sunglasses at night?” Octavia questioned.

“My vision is augmented,” She deadpanned. “There’s a costume contest, and they’re ranking everypony participating. Whoever gets a higher rank wins.”

“It. Is. On.”

Author's Note

Sorry I took so long. I'm in the final stretch of my senior year of high school, so my creativity is kinda zapped by work. I've got irregular levels of creativity as a result, meaning slower production. It's not fast enough for my tastes, and it probably isn't fast enough for you either.

I flipped a coin to see who'd win the bet in this chapter, and the coin landed on the table in front of me and spun around for a while. Instead of dropping flat however, it stood up straight. I shit you not, this actually happened. I took that as a sign to not let dumb luck decide, so I'm leaving the rankings of all the costumes to you, the readers! I'm not turning this into a vote-driven story, I just thought it'd be a fun way to decide a relatively minor plot point.

Please rate the Terrific Trio in best-to-worst order based on how much you like their costumes. Then pick your top three others (or more if you like) in order of best-to-worst. Rest assured that I have hilarious plans for the losing mare regardless of who it is.

Terrific Trio
1. Octavia - Indianeigh Jones (Daring Do's brother)
2. Vinyl Scratch - JC Dentrot
3. Coruscant - Kopaka

Other contestants:
1. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Sweetie Belle - Leonardo
Scootaloo - Michelangelo
Spike - Donatello
Applebloom - Raphael

Big Macintosh - Big Boss (MGS: PW)

Applejack - The Mare With No Name (ponified version of Clint Eastwood's iconic character)

Twilight Sparkle - Spider-Mare

Rarity - The Bride/Black Mamba/Beatrots Kiddo

Rainbow Dash - A Rainbow Six operative

Pinkie Pie - Pyro

Fluttershy - Tree (chosen because she could attend the party without drawing too much attention; backfired as she is considered absent and at least one couple will be making out behind her)

Lyra - Haynnibal Lecter

Bon-Bon - Wonder Mare

Jeff "The Dude" Letrotski - Himself

Derpy - Buffalo Buck (It puts the muffins in the oven or it gets the hose again!)

And don't pull that "My vote doesn't matter!" crap on yourself; less than 50% of the eligible voting population in the US actually votes because of that same logic.

9. Sit and Dream

EYES ONLY

BE ADVISED, LARGE FLEET OF CIS VESSELS INBOUND TO TARGET STAR SYSTEM. EXACT NUMBERS AND MAKEUP UNKNOWN. BEFORE MAKING HYPERSPACE JUMP, ADVISE ALL VESSELS IN TASK FORCE TO BE READY FOR IMMEDIATE COMBAT.

ACCELERATE PREPARATION TO DEPART IN EIGHT DAYS. ADVANCE FORCES ON EQUIS BEING NOTIFIED.

(MESSAGE ENDS)
- Communique to Commanding officer of RAS Incorruptible

“Oh yeah! Who won? I did!” Vinyl shouted with glee, cantering home with her friends close behind.

“Well, technically Coruscant won, so…” Octavia replied.

“Do you even have a single fact to back that up?” She asked, her voice suddenly gravelly.

Coruscant looked at the golden trophy in his hand and back at her before realizing she must’ve been quoting her character. If only he knew lines from his own.

“Anyway, the deal was whoever placed higher wins. And since I won, I get to live instead of wearing a red shirt and losing my shit from paranoia and dying. You have to wear a maid outfit. Suck it!”

“Right. Well, it’s not a big deal as long as I just have to wear it at home, I suppose,” The charcoal mare said nervously.

“Didn’t you read the fine print on the legally binding contract I made you sign? You have to wear it all day for the whole week.”

As soon as they entered the house, Octavia pounced on her friend and began to throttle her. “No! I’m not doing that! Never!”

“If you welch on the bet, I’ll tell everypony that you watch-” She choked out.

“No! That’ll ruin my carefully cultivated reputation for refined taste! Why would you do such a thing?”

“First of all, you’re still choking me.”

“Sorry.” She released her friend and backed off.

The DJ rubbed her throat. “Second, my dad always told me nothing’s lower than being a welcher on a bet.”

“Fine. At least I can work past this issue. Everypony will have their chuckle and get past it. Nothing to worry about.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep,” Coruscant said with a shrug.

***

“Beta Squad, Saber platoon, the Separatists want to hold this moon, but Republic wants it more. There’s a battalion of clones from the 182nd ready to land and capture the mining facility as soon as you take out the frigate docked with it,” Beta Squad’s advisor said, present in the form of a ghostly hologram.

The engines of the LAAT/i hummed as the craft approached the LZ, their vibrations felt and heard by the commandos and troopers in the hold. The normal troopers were there to assist them when they landed, providing cover fire and helping to secure the area.

“After you land, the larty will pull back and provide close air support for as long as possible. If you don’t take out that frigate, we can’t send in any more support. We used our only opportunity to get you in quietly, and you’re too close to the facility for the ship to risk firing on you. For the same reason, we can’t risk firing on that frigate ourselves.”

“Your objectives are as follows. First, enter the facility and secure a beachhead. Then locate a lift to enter the frigate. Make your way to the engine room and plant charges there, then exfil before the ship blows. We’ll send in the rest of the 182nd to secure the complex, at which point you’ll provide assistance as necessary. Out.”

“Beta, Saber, we’re one minute from the LZ,” The co-pilot said over the vessel’s intercom. “Looks like it’s pretty hot. All kinds of clankers out there, some turrets too.”

“Understood,” Coruscant replied. “Thermal, prep for explosive entry. Optic, eliminate long range targets. Bones, mark targets for the gunship. Saber platoon and I will hold them off until we get inside.”

Thermal took a charge from his pack and punched a few buttons before attaching it to a magnetic strip on his hip. It would be partially programmed already, saving about five seconds of setting the blast parameters.

At the same time, Optic switched from the normal muzzle of his blaster to the long-barreled sniper attachment and swapped the normal blaster clip for a magazine containing sniper rounds. The sniper mode differed from most weapons in that it used a solid slug coated with plasma, making it a sort of hybrid between slugthrowers and blasters. Wookie bowcasters worked on a similar principle. The pair of holographic lenses lit up and he cracked his neck.

“Ten seconds out!”

The passengers became dead silent as they neared the landing zone. The engines’ pitch changed as the ship slowed, and impacts could be heard on the port side of the hull.

“Starboard door opening! Bail out!”

The starboard door slid backwards and clones piled out while the far side of the gunship took a beating. There was enough atmosphere to transfer some sound, but everything still seemed muffled. The moon was barren and lifeless, an endless expanse of gray cliffs and craters.

“We’re clear! Whirlwind, begin CAS!” Coruscant shouted over the comms.

“Copy, moving to support position.” The craft ascended and began firing.

Explosions surrounded them, the blasts kicking up soil that had been undisturbed for countless millennia. He could feel the pressure wave each one kicked up, but he focused on shooting droids.

***

With a gasp Coruscant woke up, his face covered in sweat.

Doesn’t matter. It was just a dream. And I already know how it ends.

He walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, then dried it off. Returning to his room, he glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning, two hours before he would’ve gotten up normally. Unsure of what to do with the time, he decided to clear his mind and perform a simple check of his weapons, disassembling them, cleaning them, then putting them back together.

***

“Thank you, Three-Eight. Tonight was enjoyable,” Luna said with a nod and a smile, as she and her escort returned to their tents. Boss entered his tent and removed his helmet, glad to be back with his brothers.

“Anything interesting happen?” Scorch asked him.

“No, not really. I think we should get some rest.”

“You heard him, Scorch. It’s past your bedtime,” Sev chuckled.

“But I’m not tired!”

“Look, we’ll get some sleep now, because when we wake up we have to get back to coordinating with Tau Squad and the locals and searching for more Sep bases. Rest up ner’vode.”

The commandos removed their armors’ outer shell and climbed into their bunks. Fixer extinguished the flame inside the lantern, and one by one Delta Squad fell asleep.

***

Boss opened his eyes and found himself in what looked like a tightly packed asteroid field. He was wearing armor again, and when he looked it over, from his arms to his orange-painted knees is was his armor.

“You left me, Boss…” Sev’s disembodied voice said.

This dream again, He thought. Still, he was compelled to play along despite knowing it wasn’t real. He always knew it was a dream, and he always pleaded for forgiveness regardless.

“I was following orders, I didn’t have a choice!”

A Trandoshan mercenary appeared in front of him, holding Sev’s bloodied helmet. Two more appeared behind that one, carrying similarly bloody helmets belonging to Fixer and Scorch.

“You’d sell us out because some aruetiise ordered you to?” Fixer asked.

“Shut it!”

“‘Brothers all’, right Boss?” Scorch said sarcastically.

The one carrying Sev dropped him and lunged at Boss, thrusting out its wrist blade. He sidestepped and punched at the attackers elbow, then punched it twice in the side, once in the side of the neck, and performed a ridgehand strike against its gut. Bringing his arm up to wrap around its arm, he swept the lizard’s leg and threw it to the ground. Drawing his blaster, he shot the other two, then the one on the ground.

How many kills would it take to make the guilt go away? If he killed a thousand Trandoshans as revenge for them kidnapping Sev, would he feel better? What about the other clones he couldn’t save? If he’d been fast enough, would Theta Squad still be around? What about Ko Sai, the Kaminoan geneticist his squad had failed to find? The times he’d been cruel to other clones? The possibilities, the what-ifs, the past sins, they all swirled around in his consciousness, forming a nightmare he couldn’t escape from.

He started to run, going until he was at the edge of the rock he was standing on, and he jumped. He fell for a while before a field of silver energy engulfed him. The nightmare faded, and the dream ended.

He was sound asleep.

***

The sun rose on Trottingham, and Delta Squad awoke early. Not really early by their standards though. They put their armor on and headed for breakfast, where the Princess requested they join her. Her guards didn’t seem to happy about it, and Scorch knew it. The demolition specialist created a cruse catapult for his flapjacks using a fork as the arm and a spreader knife’s hilt as the fulcrum.

Pounding his fist on the table, he fired a precision pancake strike at one of them. When it hit the target the guard in question tackled him, and they began to duke it out. Amused, the commandos and royal guard watched as they smacked each other to no effect. A first it was funny, but then it got sad, but then it got funny again. After a few minutes, their respective commanders pulled them away from each other and scolded them. Then breakfast resumed.

“I know you had a nightmare last night,” Luna whispered to Boss.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He replied casually.

“At night, I help keep peace in the dreams of ponies everywhere. When I sensed a disturbance, I followed it to you and ended it after I saw how severe it was,” She explained.

“I’m glad you did that and all, but I’d rather not share what happens when I’m asleep and I’d rather you didn’t interfere. It was just a bad dream, It wasn’t a problem,” He quietly replied.

“If you insist.”

“On the other hand, I haven’t slept that well in a long time, so I guess I can thank you for that.” He grinned a little.

***

Octavia crept downstairs in her maid outfit bright and early, probably wondering two things: how much she was going to be mocked, and how Vinyl knew her size. Coruscant was already downstairs, working on something on his datapad while the TV was on in the background. So she snuck outside and headed to work, or at least he assumed she would.

“Morning,” He greeted her without looking.

“’Sup Octy?” Vinyl said, revealing herself to be on the couch in front of the tube.

“Wow, I’m really bad at sneaking, aren’t I?” Octavia asked semi-rhetorically.

“That maid outfit really kills your Camo Index,” She replied.

“I think she looks okay,” Coruscant said.

“You’re not even looking at her.”

“Don’t need to. My helmet simulates 360 degrees of vision, so I practically have eyes in the back of my head.”

“Riiiight,” She said incredulously. Picking up the TV remote, she threw it at him. When he caught it without flinching, she released a “Huh.”

He got up and walked over to sit next to her in the middle of the couch, and Octavia sat on his other side as she ate her cereal.

“What’re we watching?”

“Tears of the Sun. It’s just commercials right now. Oh, wait a sec, I haven’t seen this one before.”

“I should go,” Octavia said before cantering away from them and exiting the house.

“Yeah… I have to go finish that track I’m supposed to debut next week. So uh, bye!” She opened the window with her magic and jumped out before galloping away.

Coruscant was all alone again.

***

That night, Vinyl returned home to find somepony had gotten into her liquor stash.

Octy must’ve had a real bad day. That'll teach her to bet against me.

She shut the front door and followed the scent of alcohol upstairs. Tracing it to Octavia’s room, she pressed her ear against the door and discerned some very… interesting noises coming from her housemates.

“Wow. I didn’t realize she was in that part of the fandom.”

***

Coruscant opened his eyes the next morning and saw Octavia lying next to him, facing away. Slowly he closed his eyes, then it hit him and they shot open.

He wasn’t wearing anything except his body glove. There was an empty bottle of rum on the nightstand. He was in Octavia’s bed. And he didn’t remember how he got there.

Uh-oh.

She rolled over to face him and opened her violet eyes. Seeing him in her bed, she blinked, and they stared at each other. Slowly, they got out of bed and got dressed, neither one saying a word to the other while they each tried to figure out what happened. Once they were cleaned up enough, they walked downstairs and began to silently eat breakfast.

“So, you two have fun last night?” Vinyl asked, a smug grin on her muzzle.

“I don’t know what happened last night, actually,” Octavia answered.

“Well, let me refresh your memory.” She pressed a button and the TV turned on, showing camera footage of Octavia getting home and beginning to drink. “You got home at around six. Crying, you looked for something to surpress the shame, so you got into my stash of booze and started downing rum. A few minutes later, Cory joined in. You spent about an hour downing that stuff and getting hammered like a nail. I came home at around eight and traced the smell of booze to your room, and you two were kissing the shit out of each other.”

Aghast, the two of them glanced at each other briefly and sat in silence.

“Either of you gonna say anything?”

“What can I say? The best choice is to pretend it didn't happen.”

“…I agree,” The cellist replied.

“Now deep tongue kiss,” Vinyl interjected.

“...No,” They replied as one, though they seemed to consider it for a moment. After all, there must've been some attraction between them for the previous night's events to have taken place.

“Okay, okay, jeez.”

***

It was time. A week had passed since Nightmare Night, and the parade had begun. Hundreds of ponies in white and blue armor marched through the streets of Canterlot, with each corner of a given formation holding the blue-backed, golden-starred flag of Equestria erect. The national anthem played and ponies watched in awe as the soldiers marched towards the Royal Plaza.

The thunder of their collective hooves could be heard halfway across the city, and word of mouth spread like wildfire. Within minutes, ENN was reporting on the surprise and asking for comments from the Princesses. They assured the media that all would be explained soon.

As the battalion reached the Royal Plaza, news anchors broadcast the image around the world. Shortly after the soldiers stopped, Princess Celestia walked out to the balcony of her castle overlooking the plaza and began to speak for all to hear.

“Today, the world has witnessed the fruition a grand undertaking. For too long, Equestria has been the victim of threats both internal and external, and groups like the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony and the Royal Guards, who were ill-suited to many tasks were needed to perform missions they weren’t ready for. As the world has changed and become far more threatening, and violent crime has increased drastically, it’s become apparent that a new approach was needed.”

“This in mind, Princess Luna proposed a radical solution: form a force dedicated to protecting Equestrian interests. Violent crime and prolific civilian ignorance of modern combat shall soon come to an end. Now, the first brigade of our Land Forces is ready to defend our nation. The 5th Internal Security Brigade, dedicated to combating threats on Equestrian soil only, is operational. With this force in place, we Equestrians may sleep safely in our beds, for strong ponies stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would harm us.”

“Soon, our armed forces will be fully operational, ready to protect us from all threats, foreign and domestic. Thank you, and good day.”

Author's Note

Yep. One more day before the Republic arrives on Equis.

I'm proud to announce that the story I've teased at for so long with heavy influence from Greek mythology has been released.

Ghost Recon: Phantom Hunt is a crossover with Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon series of tactical squad-based shooters. Specifically, it's a crossover with Ghost Recon Advanced Warfighter 2. While the premise of elite soldiers finding themselves in Equestria is nothing new, I've taken a new angle on the well-tread genre. Rather than taking place in the "present" of the MLP canon and featuring overt and official mingling between human and pony, it takes place six years before the beginning of the show, and highlights a secret war that shaped several aspects of the MLP universe.

Watch how Twilight Sparkle became the confident, but solitary and self-reliant young mare she was when we met her in the first episode of Friendship is Magic.
Learn how technology from the late-20th century made its way to Equis.
Witness the beginning of Shining Armor and Princess Cadence's romance.
Discover the truth about Celestia's family.
And much more.

10. Behold a White Horse

"…if the GAR were made up of average humans, you simply would not have a functioning army now. Clone troopers are optimized humans, and only two percent of the population could be as tough, resilient and aggressive as these men are."
-Mij Gilamar, on reports that clone troopers do not feel pain, because they were created for war, and bred for it

***

It was a cold, clear night in Equestria, with the kind of deceptively tranquil beauty found in an old painting. For a nation that had been at peace with its neighbors for a millenium and experienced only brief internal threats, that tranquility was the norm. Even the newly formed Equestrian Armed Forces were supposed to be nothing more than a means to ensure peace and public safety; they were a 50,000 pony safety blanket.

That simplicity was a blindfold, willingly put on so that ponies could go about their lives without worry, treating danger as an exception rather than a rule. Their lives, carried out in a near-paradise, exempted them from hardship and the hard choices that came with it. The worst cruelty inflicted by one pony upon another – outside of acts of violence confined exclusively to criminals and the mentally unstable – was schoolyard bullying. By the sheer power their princesses purportedly had, Equestria had avoided conflict for centuries, and grown complacent in that peace. They’d read about happenings abroad and tell themselves “It couldn’t happen here”.

When streaks and flashes of colored light began to dance across the sky, ponies throughout Equestria came out to watch the spectacle, presumed to be a gift from Princess Luna herself. Streaks of crimson and cobalt with sparse samples of gold and green danced back and forth in a pseudo-organized cascade of colors. From the looks of wonder on the ponies’ faces, it was easy to tell what they thought of the display. Many undoubtedly wished they could be among the stars to experience the divine dance for themselves. Those wishes would come true in a way, as much for those who wished as for the others who merely watched. And those same wishes would bring the end of a fragile peace that had endured for centuries.

***

“Coruscant, wake up!” Octavia shook the commando as she said his name.

“I’m up, I’m up. What’s going on?”

“There are lights shooting across the night sky. It’s beautiful, you have to see it!”

He got up and grabbed his gear, as he just wasn’t comfortable going anywhere without it. It only took a few seconds to attach his backpack, put on his helmet and attach his weapons to his armor.

Octavia led him outside, where Vinyl was staring at the sky. Dozens of other ponies seemed to be doing the same. “This shit’s trippy,” The DJ mumbled. Everypony was spellbound by what was happening in the sky. Their comments about how beautiful they found it were a broken record.

Coruscant looked up to see what they were all so captivated by. It was a familiar sight for him, and it didn’t bode well for anyone or anypony on that world. Republic and Separatist fleets had engaged each other in orbit, and it was only a matter of time before Equestria was caught in the middle of an open war.

***

“Knight platoon, load up!” A lieutenant barked. The flight deck on the RAS Arbiter bustled with activity as fighters and gunships launched. The Republic fleet had met the enemy in combat and was deploying its ground units planetside. The hastened timeframe for the assault hadn’t been explained, but it was presumed that it was to keep the Separatists from digging in on the planet too much. They’d already had a large presence in-system for a week.

CT-2418/6600 “Cipher”, obeyed the officer’s order. He and the rest of his platoon hustled onboard a Low Altitude Assault Transport/infantry. The craft could be deployed from space despite its name, but it couldn’t leave orbit from a celestial body with normal gravity under its own power.

The mostly-white LAAT/i, designated Burner 3-0, was painted with deep blue stripes and some red around the nose, in contrast to the red with green that most gunships used. But then, it was attached to the 501st Legion, so it warranted the unique appearance.

As soon as the unit was onboard, the bay doors slid shut, and the compartment was lit only by light flowing through the vertical windows in the sides. The troopers within grabbed onto the handles above them to steady themselves for the coming flight.
Cipher and the rest of his platoon were one of four that were part of a company tasked with securing landing zones for a battalion from the 41st Elite to deploy to. His unit would have to destroy a networking device that was responsible for coordinating anti-aircraft artillery. It was going to be them against however many droids were thrown their way. The area of operations was a city, which had been seized less than 8 hours earlier in the dead of night by CIS forces.

Intelligence was being procured by Advanced Recon Force troopers who’d deployed to the area of operations shortly after it was seized. The recon and guerilla warfare specialists had been tasked by General Ataan to obtain information on troop movements and high-value target locations.

There were also two commando squads already planetside, both performing operations, Tau and Delta. Delta Squad was in the AO, if Cipher’s memory served him right. The briefing said they’d already established informal contact with the local government, though their status as “alien” life had not been officially confirmed to the public. So a first-contact scenario had already occurred, but this battle would be the first public example of it. The diplomatic aspects were unimportant to the clones, but they knew to expect as much fear from the locals as the Seps would be getting.

After about a minute, the craft lifted off, and three others followed suit. They flew from the hangar and began their descent.
Through the viewports in the sides, the passengers could see the streaks of blue and red light darting back and forth through the vacuum of space, as the Republic and Separatist fleets exchanged fire. Explosions lined the area between them, marking the final positions of fighters and bombers sent by both sides.

A group of droid tri-fighters headed straight for them. One of the gunship’s side-mounted turrets fired and tore a wing off from one of the attackers. A pair of ARC-170 strike fighters swooped in and fired at the group with their laser cannons, picking them apart. They missed one in the pass, but the tail gunner on one of the fighters fired a burst that hit the droid’s pilot core. The nimble craft fell apart, the fragments maintaining their momentum.

The LAAT/i began to rumble as it entered the planet’s atmosphere, heat from atmospheric friction lighting the exterior aflame. The clones standing near the sides could feel a temperature increase for a short while before the rumble stopped and the craft stabilized. Their hearts began to pound.

Red streaks of light flew up at them and the ball turrets on the sides of the fuselage returned fire. The wing-mounted beam cannons fired forwards, as did the chin-mounted laser cannons. The gunships were unleashing a hailstorm of sapphire plasma at the defending droids.

The ship’s hum deepened as it decelerated, raising its nose momentarily as it came to a hover a meter above the ground. The craft’s weapons kept firing, albeit more cautiously. Bay doors slid open and clones released their grips on the handles above them, moving those hands to their DC-15S blaster carbines.

They disembarked, their boots hitting the ground in a park or garden of some kind, the gunship’s crew providing covering fire as the thirty troopers headed to cover. It was early in the morning, but with the smoke filling the sky it wasn’t a very pleasant-looking one.

Cipher moved to cover with the rest of his 9-man infantry squad. Heavy blaster fire had them pinned down, and the only solid way to get rid of it was for the gunship to take it out in spite of the heavy anti-aircraft fire. The gunship did exactly that. Bolts of plasma from its cannons scorched the ground and destroyed enemy turret emplacements, giving Knight platoon the opening it needed. The gunship took off in a hurry, trying to get out of the enemy’s line of fire.

“Squad 2, cover fire! 1, 3 and 4, advance!” The platoon’s lieutenant - a clone that went by "Jay" - ordered over comms. Cipher and the other eight members of his squad obliged the officer and began laying down heavy fire on the main concentration of droids. Many of them didn’t react fast enough and got hit, being blown away by the heavy firepower.

Using the opening, the other three squads moved up, using benches, statues and foliage as cover. The temporarily decreased volume of incoming fire gave them more time to move and more time to shoot. The droids were now firmly on the defensive.

“Droids on our left flank!” Cipher shouted. He fired a burst at a group of droids trying to hit his squad from the side. One bolt blew a clanker’s head-sensor unit to pieces, causing it to malfunction and blast another droid in the torso before it shut down automatically. His squad blew away the cover shielding the others and he threw a thermal detonator into their midst, obliterating the rest. “Flank secure, regrouping.”

Cipher’s squad joined up with the rest of the platoon, laying down fire as they advanced. The unit grouped around a small communications hub coordinating AA fire. That was the unit’s objective.

A pair of super battle droids appeared from behind the hub and laid down heavy fire. One of the men in Cipher’s squad took a blaster bolt to the face, shattering his helmet and leaving the now-exposed flesh underneath charred and riddled with shrapnel.

Several troopers threw thermal detonators at the pair of droids. The platoon followed with a flurry of blaster fire, gradually wearing down the hulking masses of metal, melting their armor and frying the circuitry underneath.

“Smoke, get a charge on that console!” The lieutenant ordered.

“Give me a few seconds… It’s armed, 20 seconds, everyone clear!”

The clones who weren’t already in cover took shelter behind low walls, benches, fallen trees and finely-made marble statues. Every one of them counted down under their breath or in their mind, waiting for the boom.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4… Cipher counted internally.

“Fire in the hole!”

The charge they’d planted went off like thunder, turning the communications hub into two-and-a-half tons of scrap metal. Assuming they’d been the first to complete their objective, all the Sep’s AA in the area of operations would be uncoordinated and easier to trick with countermeasures and decoys.

“Vanguard One, Knight platoon here, objective destroyed. One man KIA.” The LT reported to the company commander. “How are Castle, Paladin, and Bishop doing?”

“This is Vanguard One. Castle platoon has destroyed their objective, and AAA in the southeast sector of the city is out of the fight. Paladin and Bishop are continuing the first phase of their operation. Proceed west to rally point Eta and rendezvous with the commandos from Delta Squad. You’ll work together to secure a building with several VIPs and a few dozen civilians. Gunship Burner 3 will provide support when possible.”

“Copy.” The officer gestured for his unit to follow him.

The clones moved into the city. The first thing they noticed was that there were signs everywhere, advertising all sorts of products. Most of them seemed to be written in Galactic Basic text, though the language was foreign to them. Many of the models in the ads looked like colorful livestock, and some of them blended avian and mammalian features.

The architecture was impressive, much of it made from bricks and stones. Elegant arches and flourishes gave a vaguely Coruscanti feeling to the city.

As their platoon moved through the streets, the clones watched for snipers and would-be assailants. All they saw in the buildings was frightened natives peeking through windows.

They were 10 meters from rally point Eta when they came under attack from a large building draped with banners and advertisements. There must’ve been at least thirty of them firing from the windows.

“Ambush! Get to cover!” The LT boomed at the top of his lungs. He was close enough to the others that he didn’t need to use comms.

The platoon moved to get behind stone barriers and bundles of metal barrels filled with water. A man from Cipher’s squad, “Crow”, was cut down rushing to safety by a droid sniper, the magenta beam burning through his side. His screams pierced the din of battle.

“Sergeant!” The wounded man screamed. It was a scream they’d all heard a million times. Clone troopers had no mothers or other loved ones to call for when mortally wounded, like most organics did. The closest figure they had to a parent in their lives was their training sergeant. Of course, that only applied when the pain wasn’t so intense that it prevented them from forming coherent words. Blaster fire was one of the less painful ways to die on the battlefield.

Another clone dropped to sniper fire.

“Hold on, Crow!” Cipher ran back out into the line of fire, firing bursts at the building one-handed. He used his free arm to throw the clone over his shoulder. The sergeant moved back to cover as fast as he could with a hundred kilos of dead weight on his back, hoping the sniper wouldn’t get him next. But he couldn’t just leave a brother behind.

When he got back to cover, he laid the man down. He was making choking sounds. The wound seemed too serious for Cipher to treat.

“Just hang on! Medic!”

“Burner 3, this is Knight, we need air support now! Danger close!”

“Copy that, we have your position. ETA 30 seconds.”

A medic nicknamed Scalpel reached Cipher and Crow, and began assessing the wounded clone.

“He’s choking on his own blood. Take his helmet off!” Scalpel shouted over the cacophony of combat. Cipher obliged. There was blood all around Crow’s mouth and inside his helmet.

A blaster shot directly hit a water barrel, flash-vaporizing its contents and bursting it. Steam clouded the area.

The medic removed a pack of synth-flesh from his belt and applied it to the wound. It would stabilize the clone for a few hours. He followed it up with a shot of bacta to accelerate the healing process and alleviate pain, and propped the wounded man against the cover they were hiding behind.

“Damn it, there’s a Tri-Fighter on our tail!” The crew of the incoming gunship blasted over the clones’ comms.

Cipher looked up in time to see a focused burst of fire from the droid fighter destroy one of the gunship’s engines, tearing off the starboard wing.

“Burner 3, mayday, mayday!”

The gunship came in from the north and crashed in the middle of the street, skidding to a halt between the clones and the defending droids. It was mostly intact, but the starboard engine and wing were destroyed, the nose was crumpled, and the port cargo bay door was torn off. The vessel created a form of cover that would allow the clones to regroup and advance, and the open cargo bay would allow them to scavenge gear.

“Sergeant, there’s a PLX-1 in the cargo bay,” the LT said. “Get inside, grab it and take some shells!”

Cipher vaulted over his cover, thankful the bay was open on his side and not the droids’. There was some kind of fluid leaking onto the floor, which made the irregular incline tougher to traverse. In the corner, he spotted a rack of weapons. An E-Web repeating blaster folded up with its tripod, a pair of EMP launchers, a CR-24 flame rifle, and finally a PLX-1 rocket launcher. He grabbed onto a torn section of the interior and used it to help climb the slippery incline, doing his best to ignore the blaster fire hitting the exterior hull just a meter from him.

Once he reached the weapons rack, he grabbed the launcher in his left hand and tossed it down to the street, then grabbed the armorweave pack containing shells for the weapon and tossed it downwards. He did the same for the other weapons on the rack and their respective ammunition, then slid back down.

“Grab the plex and blow those clankers!”

The sergeant grabbed the launcher, loaded it and rested it on his shoulder, attaching his carbine to the back of his torso plate while it wasn’t being used.

“Squad 4, draw their fire while he takes the shot!”

One of the other squads moved to front of the crashed gunship and began firing at the droids from behind cover. They seemed to be protected enough that casualties would be unlikely.

Cipher crouched and walked to the rear end of the craft. Once he cleared the other side, he took a knee and aimed at the façade. He fired one shell, the sapphire orb streaking to the target in the blink of an eye, then impacting and decimating the two levels of droids firing at them. The entire face of the building crumbled.

“Targets neutralized!” There was a satisfied grin under his helmet. The trooper regrouped with the others and dropped the launcher next to the rest of the scavenged weapons and ammo. He pulled his carbine from his back and let his arms hang free.

Four humanoid figures approached in the distance, coming from the south. The limited HUD in Cipher’s helmet said they were friendlies.

***

Boss saw the platoon of clones just a bit before they saw him. He led his squad closer to them, and met them by the wreckage of a crashed gunship.

“Nice of you to join us, Delta,” The lieutenant said with no perceivable bitterness. That was a good sign. “Lieutenant CT-2418/0224. Troops call me “Jay”. This is Knight platoon.”

Boss nodded. “We’d have been here sooner, but we got pinned down half a klick south of here. Sitrep?”

“We took out our first objective, and we got ambushed here by several dozen droids. I called in precision close air support to take out the droids on that façade,” Jay pointed to the side of a building, the upper half of which was severely damaged. “And the gunship was shot down by a tri-fighter. It crashed here, and I had one of our sergeants scavenge weapons from it. He took them out with a PLX-1.”

“Casualties?”

“Two dead, one wounded. I don’t know about the pilots, we haven’t had time to check.” The lieutenant turned his head. “Crow, how’re you doing?”

“On my feet, sir.” A private with much of his side missing stood up shakily.

“Stay close to Scalpel, and try to stay out of harm’s way for now.”

He nodded. “Sir.”

“Squad 3, check on those pilots. If they’re alive, get them out of there.” Jay turned back to Boss. “What’s the plan?”

“Sev?”

“Just a sec.” The sniper tossed a holographic projector onto the pavement and it lit up, displaying a detailed diagram of the building, which was a brighter hue than the surrounding structures and sewers.

“The target building is connected to a subterranean maintenance tunnel, which are connected to the sewers. We’ll go into the sewers and head for the maintenance tunnel, eliminating any security along the way. Once we get there we’ll contact you. Follow our tracks as closely as possible so nobody sets anything off. We’ll do the same thing in the tunnels,” Boss explained.

“Okay. Where do we come in?” Jay asked.

“That’s the tricky part. We don’t have positive intel on the composition of enemy forces, their locations, or civilian locations. For now, we’ll do most of the work, because the longer we remain undetected, the better our chances at minimizing civilian casualties. Once we know more, we’ll coordinate the hostage rescue portion of the op.”

“Keep the projector for now. It’s connected to the others we have, so we can provide visual aids once we reach the next planning phase.”

“Understood.”

“Lieutenant, the pilots are still alive, the crash just knocked them out!” A trooper yelled.

“Good to hear! Have them read to move ASAP.” The officer replied “Delta, if you want to take any weapons or ammo we recovered from the wreckage, that’s fine by us.”

Boss nodded and led his squad to the gunship.

“Yes! Dreams really do come true!” Scorch grabbed a flame rifle from the gun pile by the bay and fondled it. He looked around some more. “Fierfek.”

“What?” Sev asked.

“There’s no spare tanks for this baby. I’ve got a minute of burn, and nothing after that. At least I’ll have room to carry the array gun.”

“Oh. I thought it was something serious. Di’kut.”

Fixer grabbed an EMP launcher and several ammo tubes, and attached them to his backpack. Sev didn’t take anything.

“Alright Deltas, let’s go.”

The four of them moved to a nearby manhole – or ponyhole, they weren’t exactly clear on the terminology – and slid down the ladder one at a time.

“Ugh. I’m glad we’ve got shields to keep this from sticking, because I’d hate having to clean this osik off.” Sev remarked.

“Same here,” Scorch agreed.

“Focus on the mission, not how pretty your boots look,” Fixer reprimanded them. “But that does smell foul. Probably methane.”

“Agreed. Deltas, seal your helmets, activate your filters. We don’t want to breathe these fumes if we can help it. And hold fire until we’re out of the sewers or we might ignite the fumes.”

The squad moved quickly and quietly along the path they’d decided to follow. It was mostly uneventful. Mostly.

“Something just touched my leg,” Fixer stated. The others took his claim very seriously.

“Osik. Think it’s a dianoga?” Scorch asked.

“No, it felt more like firm flesh than tentacles.”

“Good. Dianoga give me the creeps.”

“There it is again!” Fixer said.

A reptilian emerged from the sewage and attempted to chomp Fixer’s leg off. In one lightning-fast motion, the commando drove his gauntlet vibroblade right into the creature’s skull. It fell back into the water, lifeless.

Fierfek. Sometimes I forget how good Fixer is with that vibroblade, Boss mused. He hoisted the creature from the water to inspect it, grunting as he picked it up. It was a few meters long, but less than one meter tall. There were ridges on its back and tail. Its maw was long and fairly wide, with teeth jutting out and a round snout.

“Hey, I think you found a Trando mommy!” Scorch quipped.

“Ugh, she’s even uglier than I thought,” Sev added, playing along.

Boss dropped the corpse, then shared a laugh with the rest of the squad. They moved onwards to the maintenance tunnels.

Fixer took point, followed by Scorch, then the other two. The hacker opened a door to the tunnels slowly and silently, peeking his blaster through the opening, then following it inside. The others followed suit, and Sev shut the door as quietly as it’d been opened.

“Knight platoon, this is Delta lead.”

“Copy, Delta. Sitrep?”

“We cleared the sewers and just entered the maintenance tunnel. No security, but we have encountered a large, carnivorous reptilian creature on our way in, a local fauna. A few meters long, less than one tall, weighed around a couple hundred kilos. Took it out with a vibroblade to the skull. There might be more, so watch out.”

“Thanks for the heads up. We’re heading down now. Out.”

“Alright, Deltas. Move.”

The squad advanced through the tunnel, which was completely linear other than a few small side rooms. It was eerily quiet, save for the hum of gas flowing through pipes and their own faint footsteps. The tunnel was apparently clear of threats, as they’d travelled its length without incident and the rooms on the sides were clear.

They climbed the ladder to the target building. Boss went first, gently popping the hatch linking it to the structure. He activated his night vision filter and looked around. It was a decent-sized janitor’s supply closet, no threats.

“Clear.” As soon as he was up, he motioned for the others to follow and got on comms. “Knight, this is Delta.”

“Copy. No resistance so far.”

“Tunnel is clear. Enter it and wait for our tactical assessment. We’ll let you know when to proceed. Out.”

“Orders, sir?” Fixer whispered. Their helmets were designed to prevent sound from escaping, but it didn’t hurt to be safe.

“On me. Stealth is our top priority, so kill the shabiise quietly. If it comes to blasters, be efficient and use necessary force only; if we’re lucky, we might not be heard.”

“I wish we had some Verpine guns like Skirata and those Nulls use. Or those suppressed deece carbines they issue to shadow troopers, even if they’re a little wimpy,” Sev mused.

The squad exited the room. The halls were dark, though a few offices with small lights on indicated power to the building was still flowing.

“Split up, search this wing of the building for anything that might tell us where the hostages are, and what we’re dealing with. Stay in contact, ROE is unchanged. Move out.”

They split up, heading separate ways. The clones would be able to handle themselves on their own, and if things got too intense they could still regroup quickly enough.

A few minutes seconds into his pseudo-solo foray through the claret-hued halls, Boss found a map of the building on a poster, plus a few paragraphs written in multiple languages, one of which was in Galactic Basic. He already had the schematics, but this’d tell him what each area was, and what was going on pre-invasion, which could also provide useful information. The first thing he did was send an image of the annotated map to his squad. Then he read the info blurb.

The 79th Annual Equestrian Fashion Show will take place here in the Maris Convention Center from the 2nd of November to the 8th. We are proud to be host to this prestigious event, which is expected to mark the start of a grand new season in fashion for ponies and griffons across the world!

We are also host to the following distinguished individuals:

Photo Finish, of PF Productions: The prestigious and famously eccentric designer and fashion photographer hailing from Germaney. Her new line, which will be revealed here, goes by the tagline “Surrender to the Future”.

Rarity, of Carousel Boutique Inc. and Bearer of the Element of Generosity: A rising star in the industry, whose dresses have taken Equestria by storm, capturing the hearts and minds of all who wear them.

Goldenhoof, Head of Prance: The new Head of our province of Equestria, who unexpectedly seized the position mere months ago from the incumbent of 30 years, who was ousted by the Regional Court.

The hostages they took must’ve been the ones here early, because I know it’s the 1st today. That means a lot fewer civilians to take care of. Anyway, I think I can figure out who our VIP is.

Boss proceeded down the halls, stopping when he heard footsteps coming from around the corner. It wasn’t one of his squad, or else he’d have seen their colored silhouette on his HUD. He pressed himself against the wall, waiting for their source to come into view.

It was a human in sand-colored fatigues, wielding a Separatist-issued blaster and wearing a Confederacy of Independent Systems emblem.

I’ve seen intel reports saying the Seps were recruiting organics. The reports said they’re for ops droids are too dumb for, Trandoshans are too brutal for, and their Nimbus Commandos are too elite for. First of these Wet-Seps I’ve seen myself.

“Deltas, we’ve got Sep organics in the building. Watch out.”

The others flashed their acknowledgment lights on his HUD, letting Boss know they heard him, but were busy. The commando continued to stare at the soldier.

I think I’ll have a little chat with him.

Boss lunged out, grabbed the man and pulled him back to the shadows. He activated his comms, so whatever he said or heard would be transmitted to the.

“Try anything and you’re dead,” Boss whispered into his ear.

“What do you want?” The soldier grunted.

“Tell me where the hostages are and how many of you there are.”

“Forget it.”

“Alright then, we’ll do this the fun way.” Boss extended the vibroblade in his gauntlet and held it against the guard’s throat. “I’m thinking of a number between… One and ten.”

“Oh, uh, um, three!”

“Hm. Lucky guess. Now tell me what I want to know, or we’ll play another round.”

“O-okay! There’s thirty of us, barricaded in the event hall with the hostages. Me and three others in the surrounding section of the building. We’re holding the hostages until a ship can evacuate us and we can use them as leverage. That’s all, I swear.”

Boss thrust his vibroblade straight into the man’s temple and dropped his body to the floor.

“Heard that over comms, Boss. Kandosii,” Scorch complemented.

“I’ve already bagged two of these guys,” Sev stated.

“I got one too. He was in a security room. I’ve got a live feed of the event hall,” Fixer added.

“Delta Squad, form on Fixer’s location.”

It took them a few minutes to reach the security room, even with 40’s location on their HUDs. Once they did, Boss had Sev drop a holoprojector in the room.

“Knight platoon, this is Delta lead. Deploy your holoprojector and sync with ours.”

“Copy… Done,” The lieutenant responded.

Boss zoomed in on the holoprojection of the structure and highlighted the event hall, or rather, dimmed the rest of the building. The hall consisted of a large floor with a stage and runway-like extension on one end. A floor above it were two lengthy balconies that ran on either side of the room, parallel to the runway. A third, smaller balcony was on the third floor, directly opposite the stage. A skylight was on the roof above it, and it looked like there were already fast-ropes deployed there from when the building was seized. A ground-floor entrance to the room was directly below the third-floor balcony.

“This is our target. The fifty-three hostages are all on the bottom floor, and there are thirty Sep organics in there with them, twenty on the bottom floor, four on the side balconies and two on the upper balcony. Deltas 1207 and 1262 will quietly take the upper balcony. I want one of your squads to take each of the two second-level balconies, one to take the ground level entrance, and one to take the skylight with Delta 1140 and I.”

“Alright, so what’s the plan?”

“Deltas 1207 and 1262 will discreetly take position on the upper balcony. Six to fifteen seconds after they’re in position, you have your two second-level squads head in to take the balconies, which will alert the guards; at that moment, ’62 will throw flashbangs into the bottom floor and provide cover fire for your men, and ’07 will begin to take out any targets that present a threat to civilians. Five to eight seconds later, another squad of yours will fast-rope down with ’40 and I, landing on and around the stage; they’ll be directing their fire in all directions except the entrance, and within a short period of time they’ll be as focused on a fight coming almost entirely from above. Ten to fifteen seconds after we hit ground, your fourth squad will breach the main entrance to the hall – at that point the last place they’ll expect an attack to come from,” Boss explained.

“How can we ID hostiles from civilians rapidly if they’re bunched together?” Knight’s CO asked.

“Hostiles are bipeds, all of them humanoids, wearing tan fatigues and wielding E-5 blasters,” Fixer advised. “Civilians are more… colorful, and they’re all quadrupedal.”

“So in other words, ‘Four legs good, two legs bad’,” Scorch summarized.

“Okay. I’ll have my men get in position. Squad 2, up top. 3 and 4, stack up on the side balconies. Squad 1 and Crow, follow me, we’re taking the ground floor.”

“Deltas, you have your orders. Move.”

Boss and Fixer headed to the roof via a nearby staircase. By the time they were at the top and about to go back outside, a squad of 501st was heading up the same staircase.

From the roof, Boss could see the damage this battle had already caused, the pseudo-Coruscanti architecture of the city scarred, and in some cases burning. Just another world among thousands in this war. And it would only get worse.

The two commandos discreetly hooked onto the ropes trailing down into the hall, and the squad of troopers with them began to hook up. They stayed low, avoiding detection from the guards below.

“Delta 1138, ready.”

“Delta 1140, ready.”

“Delta 1207, ready.”

“Delta 1262, ready.”

“Cipher. Squad 2 ready.”

“Stripe. Squad 3 ready.”

“Bones. Squad 4 ready.”

“Jay. Squad 1 ready. All Knights, stand by.”

“Sev, Scorch, go,” Boss ordered.

There was a brief pause, a few seconds long, and some movement in the upper balcony visible from the skylight.

“Overwatch position secure,” Sev said. A few seconds later, he spoke again. “Overwatch ready.”

Eight seconds passed.

“Squads 3 and 4, breach on my mark. Mark!” Lieutenant Jay ordered.

A couple of crashes came right on top of each other, the sound of doors being kicked down. It was nine versus four on each of the balconies, and the defenders were eliminated in seconds. Flashbangs exploded on the floor, and blue lances began to impact guards one at a time.

Crimson blaster fire was already cascading upwards from the bottom floor, towards the mid-level squads. No casualties were taken yet by the attackers, but they had to pick their shots carefully to avoid hitting civilians in a dynamic environment riddled with living and inanimate cover for the defenders, a difficult task under heavy fire.

“Ready up. We’re heading down on 3. One, two, three!”

The ten of them descended into the chaotic chamber. It was two seconds before they hit the floor, and once they did, they rushed to cover. The flow of the battle changed dramatically, as it was much easier to hit the defenders from an angle where they were taller than their hostages. A Separatist dropped dead every two seconds or so.

Five of them defenders died before the final group entered.

“Squad 1, breach!”

The main entrance crashed down, and more clones came in. The defenders, unprepared for the new arrivals, fell even more rapidly as they took fire from five groups of clones. It was only another thirteen seconds before the last Sep was killed.

When the firing stopped, the air reeked of ozone and scorched flesh. The hall was severely damaged.

The attackers took a tally of casualties. Two dead clones, making a total of four members of Knight platoon killed in action since the landing nearly an hour ago. Six civilians had been killed in the fight, though by whose hand was undetermined.

Delta Squad shortly received orders to redeploy elsewhere, and the men of Knight platoon awaited further orders. There was no telling if they’d be reinforced there, replaced by other clones in defending these civilians and given new orders, or if they’d be redeployed and leave the civvies to fend for themselves.

For Equestria, and Equis as a whole, things were still going to get worse.