Red Banners, Red Stains

Chapters

Chapter 1/USA: Welcome to Manehatten
Chapter 2/USA: Diploma in Diplomacy
Chapter 3/Russia: Breathe In
Chapter 4/ECA: Comfort of the Castle
Chapter 6/USA: Consequences
Chapter 7/GLA: A Nice Gentle Walk
Chapter 8/Russia: May Be Your
Interlude: The Darkest Year
Chapter 10/Russia: Most Honorable
Chapter 11/USA: Consequences Pt. 2
Chapter 12/GLA: Calmly Disembarking
Chapter 13/Russia: Most Generous
Chapter 14/USA: Consequences Pt. 3
Chapter 15/ECA: Taking Root
Chapter 16/GLA: Definitely Not An Insurgency
Chapter 17/Russia: Last
Interlude: War in the Heavens
Chapter 9/ECA/GLA: Capital in the Castle/A Pleasant Train Ride
Prologue: The Sky is Beautiful
Chapter 5/Russia: For This Breath

Chapter 1/USA: Welcome to Manehatten

The first encounter between two cultures is the beginning of a unique history, written by the interaction of their differences and the appreciation of their similarities.

???, August 6th, 2045. 09:13 AM

Jameson's right leg didn't hurt anymore. In fact it was like it wasn't there at all. He groaned. Did he have a spinal injury?

"Lieutenant Colonel?" A young voice tentatively asked. Jameson opened his eyes and stared upwards. A clear sky gazed back at him, the sun present at the edge of his vision partially blocked by shadowy pillars- no, people. A crowd of blue and tan uniforms was gathered around him; unfamiliar, strained faces looked down. Jameson felt some relief when he spotted Staff Sergeant Henry, his close friend, in the group, uninjured.

"Hol- holding my funeral a bit too early?" No one laughed, just staring at him with grim expressions. Now seriously concerned, he spoke to a white-helmeted medic, "What happened?"

The medic's face was grim. "Do you want the good news or the bad news, Lieutenant Colonel?"

The forced smile disappeared from Jameson's face. "I'll take both."

"Well, sir, the good news is the infection didn't spread from your leg. The bad news is that your left leg..."

Jameson got the message. He tried to appear cheery when, inside, he felt as if he'd been punched in the face, stomach, lungs, and pretty much every other part of the human body. "Well, if I can do without an arm, I can do without a leg, right? Now then, what's with the crowd?"

A Naval officer stepped forward with a salute as the medic helped Jameson sit up. "Lieutenant Commander Lee, sir! An explosive shell hitting the bridge killed every high-ranking Naval and Army officer on the ship. You're now the first-in-command, sir, and we have no idea where we are."

Jameson took a moment to process this statement. He'd been promised that he'd have a purely observatory and advisory role in the task force; something to ease him into the position of Lieutenant Colonel and help him adjust to performing his duties without his right arm. And here he was, having lost yet another limb, in charge of the entire USS Discord. He gave a weak laugh. "You're kidding, right? Is there seriously no one else who can take charge of the ship?"

Lee shook his head. "You far outrank all of the surviving officers on the ship. Protocol says you're in charge, sir."

Jameson looked into the expectant faces of the crowd. It was slowly dawning on him just how bad the situation was, and if there was no one else to take charge then he'd have to do it. His irritation was irrational; he was one of the most experienced soldiers on the ship, and he didn't know of anyone better to guide them out of this.

He gave a sigh of resignation and nodded slowly, much to the relief of the soldiers and crewmembers in the crowd. They began to disperse, leaving Jameson alone with Lee and half a dozen other Navy and Army officers. The medic, who had left a few moments ago, returned with a wheelchair and helped Jameson into it. He found it embarrassing, but beggars couldn't be choosers and at the moment he certainly fit the description of a beggar.

"Who's the highest ranking Naval officer in good health?"

"That would be me, sir," replied Lee. Jameson nodded.

"Can you delegate your current duties?"

"Yessir, but if I may ask, why?"

Jameson grinned. "You're my personal advisor now. Prepare a situation report, have the duties of those dead or unfit to serve delegated, and find where on God's green Earth we are. Get to it." He looked in the direction of the half-dozen officers as his new advisor/secretary left to carry out his instructions. "And you lot, if you're free enough to loiter around and gawp at a handicapped man you're also free enough to set up a command center in the bridge corridor."

The officers hurriedly saluted and went to, presumably, follow Jameson's orders. Left alone in his wheelchair, he analysed the surface damage to the aircraft carrier.

It wasn't as bad as he'd originally thought, despite his faint memory of a huge missile threatening to strike the ship. Patients were being carried down into the ship from the temporary field hospital on stretches or surgical beds, with the worst cases still being treated by bloodied, worn-out medics. Jameson tried not to let his gaze rest on the cheerily white body bags lining the edge of the ship deck, somewhat hidden by the row of Widowmaker jets.

The ship itself was sheltered in a lagoon-like, crystal blue sea. The position of the sun indicated it had only been at most half an hour since the Russian attack, but the tropical island didn't match the cold arctic in the slightest. Perhaps it was best to deal with this later.

Jameson gave a satisfied hum at the sight of crewmembers already working to clear the debris from the bridge and even one or two soldiers sweeping dust and junk metal into empty barrels; it looked as though the ship was recovering despite the annihilation of the command structure. He gave the right wheel of his wheelchair an experimental push. He wasn't entirely unfamiliar with wheelchairs, having used them while recovering back in the USA after losing his arm.

The Lieutenant Colonel was surprised at the dullness of any pain or aches from the stump where his leg used to be, but he chalked that down to the medics perhaps giving him strong painkillers.

He maneuvered the wheelchair as best as he could to the bulky metal door leading to the entrance to the Island of the ship. It was the only indoor place he could reach without a crutch to help him down stairs.

As he wheeled himself down the corridor, Jameson passed by a group of three soldiers welding a thin metal sheet to the bottom landing of the flight of stairs leading up to the former bridge. Just a few meters beyond that one of the officers whom Jameson had previously given orders to was already directing efforts to prepare a temporary command center. Desks with computers, radios, in-ship phones, printers, and everything else needed to effectively command the ship lined the walls of the corridors.

A rusty tracked Sentry drone with the label 'R-6036' buzzed past the Lieutenant, turning its turret to look curiously at him. Jameson ignored it, heading for the middle of the 'command center' where two white-shirted paramilitary crew and a Ranger were worriedly hunched around a desk with a radio and large computer. He shoved his way between the fully-equipped and armed Ranger and a nervous-looking white shirted radio operator.

The two looked at him in surprise, with the other whiteshirt being too absorbed in listening to the radio and scribbling on a blank sheet. He frowned back. "Anything I should know about, people?"

The Ranger nudged the radio operator. She turned to the Lieutenant with a nervous smile. "Oh, well, uhhhh, we couldn't make any contact using encrypted transmissions, so it's safe to assume there's ahhhh… no friendly military in the area."

Jameson stared at her expectantly.

".....sir."

He nodded. "What's your friend over there doing?"

Said 'friend' looked up at the Lieutenant. "I'm writing down the radio content we're receiving from civilian channels, sir. Currently tuned into a music station; the host is English speaking but she mentions some names and places we don't recognise," he said. "It could be a South American or Americo-African station in one of the richer countries."

Jameson gave a satisfied nod, "The two of you keep working on that. Prepare a copy of the radio transmissions and have it delivered to me when you hear anything of note," he turned to the Ranger standing at attention. "And you, Specialist..."

"Specialist Todd Arnold, sir!"

"Specialist Todd, what are you doing here? Last I checked techies didn't lug around heavy machine guns and full body armour."

Todd grinned. "I'm a drone specialist, sir. Just helping deploy the ground drones and making sure none of the radio equipment'll fry them."

The Lieutenant Colonel felt a slight headache coming on. Just a few meters away they were still searching for bodies, and here a perfectly fit soldier was wasting his time trying to fix a nonexistent problem in readying up chunks of metal. "Well, if you're done then make yourself useful. I don't want to see you loitering around during an emergency situation," He snapped at Todd.

Todd replied just as enthusiastically as before, "Yessir, on it!" He saluted as Jameson was approached by a Naval officer with a small set of documents.

"Lieutenant Colonel, sir, Lieutenant Commander Lee has these reports for you." Jameson accepted the files with a nod and skimmed over the top one. It was a general assessment of the damage to the ship, casualties, fatalities, and state of equipment.

There had been no major hull damage except for the bridge obviously. They'd lost two Widowmakers; one was destroyed in combat and the other slid from the ship when the bridge was destroyed. Thankfully, the pilot from the second jet had survived with no injuries. However, things became more bleak when Jameson began reading the section regarding casualties and fatalities.

Of the 1,200 personnel on the ship, at least 130 were dead, with a further 80 being too injured to perform their duties. The Lieutenant Colonel winced at the numbers, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He was simply glad he wasn't part of those 130 who had passed.

For the next hour or so, Jameson continued to give orders and receive reports as they arrived. A Naval officer confirmed the ship was in good condition and capable of moving without issue, so Jameson ordered a Little Bird helicopter to scout out the surrounding area.

Aside from that, there hadn't been any pressing issues he had to deal with. He made sure to keep himself updated on the recovery of the ship, and it looked like it was going well.

It wasn't all rainbows and sunshine though. Three of the critical patients had passed despite the best efforts of the medic, and they still weren't sure what to do with the bodybags. In a regular situation, a helicopter or the tiny patrol craft strapped to the carrier would ship the bodies to the nearest friendly base who could send them home, but they were in an unknown location and it could be weeks before they made contact with allies.

For the same reason, the critical patients weren't getting the advanced treatment they needed. At the moment they were barely stable, kept only alive by advanced machines and supplements that would run out eventually.

The Lieutenant Commander had also managed to compile about 50 reports from various crewmembers about the assumedly Russian attack, which all said the same thing: The bridge was destroyed, the Russians launched a huge, unstoppable missile, and right before it hit, the world turned pure white and they appeared here, a warm island that should be hundreds of kilometers away from the Antarctic. It was always possible that they had all died and were now in some form of an afterlife, but Jameson would like to proceed under the assumption that this was, in fact, the real world.

His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar buzz of an approaching helicopter. With the help of a nearby Ranger standing on guard, he was wheeled out of the Island onto the apron where he could see a Little Bird getting ready to land. A sigh of relief escaped him as he noticed the lack of injury or damage to the crew and helicopter.

Before it could touch down, the three Rangers sitting in the helicopter dismounted; one of them running straight towards a watching female officer nearby. They conversed for a few moments before she walked to the Island, stopping when she saw the Lieutenant sitting outside on his wheelchair.

She saluted. "Lieutenant Colonel sir! I'm Captain Emma Stone, new Captain of the air wing. The Little Bird scouted to the west and spotted a large, industrial city of unknown allegiance on the coast from a distance.

"They say they spotted several smaller towns along the coast and the islands, as well as cargo and fisher ships in the surrounding sea. The city's about 30 kilometers away, and it's clear sea till there. No radio contact was made on the military encrypted frequency. Nothing else to report."

Jameson nodded, dismissing the Captain. The situation worried him greatly. The lack of radio contact meant that this was not an American or allied city; every city and town had at least a small military garrison which would have been able to receive the encrypted radio messages. That meant this city was either neutral- or of an enemy nation. The absence of any military defenses, ships, or aircraft could be due to the city being deep in enemy territory and thus protected against attacks.

He frowned, suddenly irritated that the report was so brief. He certainly hoped that someone was writing a lengthier one at the moment; the barebones description forced him to make dangerous assumptions. After a few moments of thinking, he ordered his helper to get a pen and a paper and drafted a set of orders for the helmsmen.

"Sir!"

The Lieutenant Colonel looked up from his desk, currently full of half-finished map sketches and more accurate printouts of various populated coastal areas, to see a Naval officer rushing down the corridor towards him; Lee. He saluted Jameson and passed him a freshly printed out message from the ship's internal communications system. Jameson grabbed it, scanning the cold, black ink with growing dread.

The message was simple and to the point: "Approx. 23 aircraft approaching. Visual report: identical to Antarctic attack group. Time to engage: Approx. 12 minutes."

Jameson looked up, his mind searching for ways to get out of the situation safely. The ship was currently on its way to the city the Little Bird had spotted, with the lack of any naval interception giving the Lieutenant Colonel hope that it was part of an allied faction. However, the radio operators had reported that they were picking up radio stations which, while still speaking in English, mostly had Russian accents, indicating they were getting closer to a Russian city.

And now this. The same air group which had ambushed them in Antarctica was approaching to finish them off, with only minutes to spare until they came into contact. Jameson gritted his teeth and flipped through the hand-drawn maps until he came to the approximation of the coastline from the description of the helicopter crew. The coast had continued directly south as far as the horizon, but to the north the sea was interrupted by inhabited archipelagos- there was no way they could sneak the carrier past the islands without being spotted.

Taking a deep breath, he dismissed Lee and picked up the phone, hitting '13' for the navigation room. After a brief conversation with the helmsman, he felt the slight force of the huge ship turning in a wide circle. Above, Jameson could hear crewmembers rush to prepare the ship for moving at full speed.

The USS Discord raced south under the mild evening sun, keeping a safe distance away from the coast. Aerial recon drones buzzed over the carrier, keeping a lookout for military ships. The crew occasionally spotted vague shapes on the water in the distance: civilian ships, mostly fishing boats. They kept their distance- alerting an enemy military now would be disastrous.

Jameson's wheelchair was positioned on the roof of the Island, where the bridge had been. The four soldiers required to lug the wheelchair up the stairs was worth it; he had an unmatched view of the ship's top deck and the surrounding sea.

The open sea glittered with the rays of the sun. Any islands or land formations were entirely absent from the area, leaving only the coast to the west and the horizon in all other directions. The coastline was just visible through the haze and fog that had set in in the late afternoon, only a few kilometers from the carrier. Jameson knew it risked them getting spotted by patrolling naval vessels, but with no map of the terrain they needed to keep the coast within sight or potentially end up lost in the huge open ocean. Their aircraft were grounded too; they had concluded that the enemy forces had detected them through radar because of the Little Bird's scout mission.

The evening dragged on. The Lieutenant Colonel occasionally picked up calls from the phone lying in his lap- a wire trailed back into the Island- and received reports from out-of-breath Naval soldiers, but these were getting less and less frequent. The ship's departments were adjusting to the lack of an experienced and high-ranking command group, and had stopped asking him for approval for the most trivial actions.

Just after sunset, an alert sounded through the ship.

"All crew to stations, be ready for combat," blared the speaker system. The message repeated itself.

Without waiting for the soldier assigned to help him, Jameson rolled the wheelchair at full speed down the stairs. A bumpy few seconds later, he reached the command center. It was chaos. Whiteshirts and soldiers struggled to get down the limited space left in the corridor, machines buzzed and whirred loudly, and printers consumed ungodly amounts of ink. Jameson grabbed Lieutenant Commander Lee by the arm and pulled him to the side.

“What’s going on, Lieutenant Commander?”

After an awkward attempt at saluting to Jameson, Lee stated, "We've spotted a large city on the coast, sir. Seems to be American or Japanese, possibly even New York or Seattle. Skyscrapers and all the fancy lights. A fleet of patrol craft and a single warship are approaching us now- and we've received a transmission on the radio. Haven't responded yet though, sir, thought we'd wait on you."

Jameson released his iron grip on Lee's arm and rolled the wheelchair across to the radio table which had expanded immensely throughout the day. It now boasted an unstable wall of radio devices, printers, headphones, and speakers. Five whiteshirts and a Ranger manned them. The Ranger saluted the Lieutenant Colonel and handed him a bulky headset which he accepted and slipped over his ears with a nod. A slightly melodic, worried male tone rang over the radio.

"-hattan Coast Guard, identify yourselves immediately. Unknown naval vessel, this the Manehattan Coast Guard, identify yourselves immediately. Unkno-" Jameson gently took off the headset, grinning at Lee.

"Hell yeah! Men, we've reached New York somehow! The Manhattan coast guard is on their way! Tell the helm to anchor the ship and the crew to stand down."

Lee saluted and picked up a phone, relaying the Lieutenant Colonel's orders. Meanwhile Jameson put the headset back on and, after a query aimed at a researcher, managed to turn on the radio transmitter.

"Manhattan Coast Guard, oh boy are we glad to hear you! This is Lieutenant Colonel Jameson Kayran of the USS Discord, allied military carrier, and we've just been through hell. We need urgent medical care for 9 soldiers, and we've got a lot of body bags to send home. You can board on the boarding deck facing the city. Oh and, I'd like to get a line to Marshal Harper, the naval commander of Manhattan."

Jameson heard a wince from the other side. "Ro-roger that, USS Discord. We'll board the ship and treat the wounded. Uhhh, I'm not military, and I don't know who Marshal Harper is, we don't have any naval forces in Manehattan besides a single warship. Just sit tight, over."

Jameson rolled his eyes at the strange pronunciation of Manhattan. Europeans... The radio crackled to life again.

"Was it pirates or... an enemy ambush? I can't believe they'd attack our guys. Over."

Jameson responded. "No, wasn't pirates. There aren’t any of them where we were. And yes, we were ambushed. Came out of nowhere, killed a good chunk of the crew with shelling. Er, over."

The voice on the other end grunted sympathetically. "Don't worry, they wouldn't dare to atta-"

Lee ripped the headphones off Jameson, ignoring his protests. "Lieutenant Colonel, something's not right about the Coast Guard." He showed a small tablet to Jameson which, if the tag on the top left was to be believed, was a live camera feed of one of the recon drones. It showed the five approaching Coast Guard vessels, small patrol craft, which spotlights focused on the ship. He couldn't make out anything on the patrol craft until one of the vessel's spotlights turned away.

He gasped, not believing his eyes.

It was the Coast Guard, all right. Two members in brightly-colored orange vests were on the front deck of the craft, preparing ropes and hauling medical supplies to the front. There was just one issue.

The two... things... weren't humans. They instead resembled short horses- ponies- albeit with rounder muzzles and unnaturally colorful fur. They evidently weren't regular ponies- they used their front hooves with dexterity, and moved with the purpose of an intelligent human. If that weren't enough proof, one of the ponies, a bright pastel blue, had two folded, feathery wings protruding from its flanks.

Jameson looked up, realising half the command center was gathered around his wheelchair, watching the camera feed. He shoved it into the arms of a crewmember, and shouted at Lee, "Well don't just stand there! Wheel me to the boarding deck, double time!"

Lee was remarkably calm about the whole ordeal, pushing Jameson's wheelchair down the corridor like a maniacal scooter driver. Onto the apron. A brief struggle down the stairs. Standing on the edge of the water-level boarding deck with a loose ring of officers and Rangers holding their guns menacingly. Watching the first Coast Guard ship align itself with the deck, its crews' eyes widening.

Jameson felt a momentous weight on him for some reason. He faced the pony expertly climbing off the patrol craft with another dark grey one and onto the boarding deck. She- he assumed it was a she- was a pony with a fiery sunset red coat and a spiral horn decorating her head. A unicorn. She wore what appeared to him to be a nervous grin, if pony facial expressions were anything like that of humans, and threw an unprofessional salute.

The Ranger standing next to Jameson tightened his grip on his gun.

"Uhhh, heya.", the unicorn said with a little wave. Jameson gave a start with how... human... the voice sounded, despite expecting it from the voice he'd heard on the radio. Jameson stared back blankly.

"Uhh, hello? Ya'll can understand me, right? Jeez, Shield, get me a pen an' paper, will ya?", she continued.

Jameson blinked and broke his silence, "I can understand you perfectly well, Miss..."

The unicorn stepped back slightly in either shock or fear. She recovered quickly, however, and resumed her grin. "Private New Horizons, Mister..."

"Lieutenant Colonel Jameson," he said, returning the grin. New Horizons visibly relaxed. Behind her, the rest of the Coast Guard boats pulled in, their crews in a similar state of amazement.

"Well, Lieutenant Colonel Jame-son, welcome to Manehattan!" she stuck out a hoof, somehow without falling over.

Jameson accepted the handshake with inner relief and wonder, as the crew and soldiers around him moved to meet the other ponies.

Author's Note

Releasing this overly lengthy chapter with the Prologue. I have a plan for how the rest of the story will play out, but am currently undecided on whether to continue the USA storyline in the next chapter or switch over to the ECA. For now the chapter is entirely focused on Jameson, but as I introduce more characters you'll be able to see from their POV too.

Chapter 2/USA: Diploma in Diplomacy

War breeds mistrust, and mistrust undermines diplomacy. Without diplomacy, peace is nothing but a distant hope, forever out of reach.

Manehattan Bay, August 6th, 2045. 08:44 PM

"Coastals, back to ships! Royal Guard wants us out of the way, clear out."

Jameson broke his handshake to see a winged pony with a fancy white jacket and cap barking orders to nearby ponies.

New Horizons grinned apologetically at the Lieutenant Colonel, tossed yet another incredibly lazy salute, and walked- no, 'trotted'- back to her Coast Guard ship, along with the rest of the Coast Guard personnel.

Jameson realised what this meant.

"Wait!"

The winged pony turned his head, piercing Jameson with his icy stare. Jameson persisted, "Hey, our wounded need treatment!"

The pony shrugged, but his expression softened with sympathy. "Sorry, kid, can't argue with the Royal Guard. Don't worry, they're not monsters. Your ponies will get help."

Jameson didn't bother to correct the pony's slip of the tongue. As the Coast Guard ships began backing away, he motioned to Lee to come closer.

"Have the Rangers stand by on the top deck. See if you can get some drones up there too. If these... creatures... have ulterior motives, we may be able to intimidate them long enough to negotiate," he whispered. Lee saluted firmly and left the boarding deck. Most of the crew on the deck took this as a sign they were dismissed, and headed back up as well.

Left alone with two soldiers setting up a TOW missile and some floodlights, Jameson realised he had no way of getting up to the top deck by the stairs.

One quick delivery later, and the Lieutenant Commander was hobbling along the top edge's deck with a crutch in his right hand. It meant he couldn't hold anything else, and was quite undignified, but anything was better than the wheelchair. While the humans around him had towered over the ponies on the boarding deck, he'd been eye-to-eye with them- an unpleasant experience after being taller than most people for his life.

Quietly he observed the approaching warship and smaller military craft encircling the ship, lit up by the carrier's spotlights, while he collected his thoughts.

A posh-looking, bronze-coated unicorn in high-ranking Naval uniform stood on an observatory deck on the warship, next to a regular pony holding binoculars.

Lee's efficient, loyal, and young. He could be ambitious, though, and I need to make sure he's not grabbing power behind my back.

Winged ponies darted around the pony military craft, warily beating back recon drones with large flaps of their wings.

Captain Emma seems to be doing fine so far, but Lee reports she has no experience with the Airforce and was only put in charge because of the purge of the ship command. Another person to keep an eye on.

A group of various young-looking ponies stood on the deck of one of the smaller military craft, wearing gleaming white armor and sheathed swords along their flanks. Laughing, smiling, and pointing as they shone a strong light into the faces of the annoyed Rangers lining the top deck.

Staff Sergeant Henry. He's been distant and cold today, ever since we arrived at... this world. I haven't seen Sergeant Teddy around either, not since the explosion on the bridge. They both command Gamma Squad, the youngest squad on the ship. The wild card, incorrectly selected for such a serious mission to the Antarctic. I wonder how they're doing.

Something was being shouted between the two soldiers on the boarding deck and the closest military craft, a simple rubber boat. The words were lost before they reached Jameson.

How am I supposed to take care of the crew? Here we are, a broken unit on an aircraft carrier in an unknown land, led by a cripple with only two limbs. From the looks of the pony military force, we have no chance of surviving if they decide to attack. And even if we survive this, what n-

His thoughts were interrupted by a crewmember shaking him by the shoulder.

"Sir? A small group of horses is waiting on the boarding deck, they wanted to speak to our commander. I suppose that'll have to be you."

Jameson ignored the subtle insult at the end; the Navy would need some time to get used to an unqualified Army officer in charge of the ship. At a snail's pace he hobbled back down the stairs to the flat, mostly empty deck where the military party waited.

It was nothing like the peaceful, almost-friendly scene just a few minutes before.

A row of grim, tan-uniformed soldiers with rifles slung over their shoulders faced an equally tense group of five ponies: three white-armored, unarmed unicorns which reminded Jameson of medieval knights, a regular pony in the same armor, and strange-looking pony in pitch-black armor, with small, leathery wings. The whites of his eyes shone like lamps, but the pupils felt like an endless void, as if no light reflected off of them.

Jameson tore his eyes away from the odd pony and turned to the regular one in white armor. He seemed to be in charge; his helmet was more decorative than those of the other knights, and he radiated an air of confidence and authority. His right front hoof held a rolled up scroll.

Jameson stepped past the row of soldiers, who saluted at him. He relished the look of surprise on the pony officer's face. He must not have expected such a physically damaged person to be in charge.

The pony officer saluted with his left front hoof without losing his balance. After a moment's hesitation, Jameson saluted back.

"Are you in charge here?" the pony asked. Jameson chuckled lightly for no discernible reason as the ridiculousness of the situation hit him.

"Indeed I am. Lieutenant Colonel Jameson of the American military. And you are?"

The pony smiled drily. "That is irrelevant but to humor you, I am Major Steady Front of the Royal Guard. Now, to business." He unrolled the scroll with no apparent difficulty and began reading it aloud.

"By order of the Royal Sisters, seated in Canterlot:

"Greetings, creatures, and welcome to the nation of Equestria, in the land of Equus. I am Princess Celestia, the ruling monarch of the nation. I ask on behalf of all the ponies of Equestria that, although you have no reason to do so, you please trust us so we can do the same for you. Please ensure your people remain on the ship, and do not attempt to attack us in any way or we will have to react. Otherwise, you face no harm from us.

"In a few minutes, the esteemed Royal Guard will escort you to Manehattan's City Hall, where you will meet a diplomatic representative to discuss our future. Do not carry weapons if possible, and bring no more than fourteen members. Please cooperate with Major Steady Front, the captain of Manehattan's Royal Guard. Thank you for understanding, and well wishes."

The Major turned the scroll around to show an official looking seal. Jameson frowned, trying to absorb all of this. Equestria, monarchs, and diplomacy... he'd have to deal with all of this. Sighing, he nodded to the Major to put away the scroll.

"Two questions and a demand, Major."

Steady Front nodded and motioned for him to go on.

"Firstly, what's up with the horns and wings and-" he glanced over at the black-armored pony, lowering his voice, "-that?"

The Major stared at him blankly for a second before realising what he meant. "Oh well, there are different races and subspecies of ponies. The three races are earthponies which are much stronger and faster on their hooves, unicorns which have a horn they can use to perform magic with, and pegasi who have wings they use to fly. 'That'-" the pony waved his forelegs mildly in what Jameson took to be disdainful airquotes "-is a thestral, or batpony. They are incredibly similar to pegasi in most aspects, except for their facial features and darker coat colors. There's also a few others, but it would take too much of my limited time to explain them to you."

The Lieutenant Colonel nodded in understanding. He'd heard of pegasi and thestrals before, but hadn't connected the labels with the ponies.

"Don't worry, I'm not one to waste time either. Second question, why do all your soldiers use medieval weaponry?"

The Major raised his front hoof in indignation, "I'll have you know, Lieutenant Colonel, that our arsenal is perfectly modern and effective at fighting off any threat. Although your armaments may seem superior, they're quite similar to that of the griffons; we've won against them repeatedly before. Swords, lances, and shields are simply better for our style of fighting."

Jameson bit the inside of his cheek. Now that his questions were answered, it was time for the demand. Could he risk it?

"Right then, thank you for answering my queries, Major. The letter instructed us not to carry weapons. However, I insist that our delegation be allowed to carry small arms. If we have to defend ourse-"

"You are being protected by the Royal Guard! No harm would befall-"

"Sorry, Major, but I don't entirely trust your 'Royal Guard' just yet. Anything could happen on the way, and I don't want to rely on unknown soldiers from an unknown faction to save us."

The Major glared at Jameson with barely contained frustration.

"Fine, you may arm your delegation. Anything else before we proceed?"

Jameson shook his head. He hadn't really believed his own argument for bringing weapons; he had simply wanted to show the ponies that they weren't pushovers. And, who knew, maybe they actually would have to use the guns.

"Alright then. Lieutenant Colonel, we will be escorting your ship to the military port just south of Manehattan," he glanced at the huge aircraft carrier. "Is your ship capable of docking?"

"I'll need to ask the sonar experts and engineers if the ship can fit in what I assume will be a smaller dock, but we should manage."

"Unless you have anything else to say, we'll proceed to the port. Get your pon- people ready, we leave as soon as you signal us," Steady Front stated with a salute.

Jameson simply watched as the Equestrian party readied their rubber boat and sped off into the darkness. He turned to one of the now-dispersed soldiers.

"Tell the Lieutenant Commander Lee to meet me at the aircraft apron, urgently. And the rest of you lot, get back to your stations."

The soldiers saluted and sped off.

Jameson checked the watch conveniently fastened to the top of his crutch. 9:37 PM.

The carrier was slowly approaching a tiny dock surrounded by a fence, with two large military warehouses, guided by the Equestrian naval fleet. So far they had been guided a distance away from the Manehattan coast, but now they were close enough to easily make out the pedestrians enjoying an early-night walk in the park lining the coast.

The military base looked incredibly out-of-place, especially with the high-rise apartment buildings crowding just behind it, electric lights shining out of the windows. Jameson grinned at the familiar sight, incredibly similar to New York City. If he didn't look at the pony-shaped pedestrians and the utter lack of motorised ground vehicles, he could almost believe they were still in America.

Almost.

The carrier's top deck was a flurry of activity as it slid smoothly between the two piers. Jameson could hear the groan of metal as the starboard ramp on one of the lower decks lowered open, and peered over the side to see soldiers fastening it to the pier.

A squad of Equestrian soldiers formed a loose circle around them, all dressed in the shining white armor of the Royal Guard. The Lieutenant Colonel remembered with a start that he was supposed to bring fourteen people to the diplomatic meeting.

"Lieutenant Commander," he said to Lee, who was standing right next to him, "bring Gamma squad, a trusted Navy officer, and a sentry drone to the ramp. Oh, and order the vehicle department to prepare one of the Humvees." Lee nodded and strode away.

Jameson decided to take the small cargo elevator down to the vehicle bay. He certainly wasn't in the mood to struggle down the stairs with his crutch, and the elevator was more direct than the endless maze of corridors and stairways of the USS Discord.

As he entered the bay he received salutes and occasionally subtle glares from the assorted crewmembers and soldiers. It seemed the news of him now being in charge of the ship had spread, and some Navy crew didn't appreciate an unknown Army officer leading the carrier.

The vehicle bay was a large, cavern-like room filled with repair equipment, huge snaking cables, scattered shelves on wheels, and of course vehicles. The bay was also used for maintaining and repairing aircraft parts as well as storing drones.

Along one end sat the idle vehicles: four Humvees armed with heavy mounted machineguns, several pitch-black rubber boats on wheeled pallets, and even a Crusader tank, the main light tank of the American military. With them were rows of deactivated drones. Small anti-tank 'spider' drones hung on rows of hooks, with Sentries and Guardians (machinegun and cannon drones respectively) lining the floorspace below as well as a few scattered ground Recon drones.

Set into the other end was the huge vehicle bay ramp, the same one Jameson had watched opening from the top deck. It seemed Lee had called his orders ahead, because a Humvee stood, fueled and gleaming in the floodlights, just next to the ramp.

Sentries and Rangers guarded the bottom of the ramp along with a javelin team, strangely enough.

"Lieutenant Colonel sir!"

Jameson turned his head to see Gamma squad jogging towards him, a less fit Navy officer trailing behind them. Gamma squad had 11 members; with the Navy officer and Jameson that totaled 13 people. Jameson glanced around, wondering who could fill the 14th spot, and his eyes came to a rest on one of the active Sentries at the base of the ramp.

"Sir, Sergeant Richard!" said a Sergeant of Gamma Squad, saluting. "Staff Sergeant Henry was unable to attend. However, the rest of Gamma is here."

Jameson narrowed his eyes as he returned the salute. Gamma squad hadn't had any assigned duties, so he didn't see why Henry would be too busy to see to such a vital mission. Sergeant Teddy wasn't there either, strangely. With a sigh, he motioned for the squad members to follow him.

"Captain," he tapped the shoulder of an officer with a Drone department insignia, who he recognised as Captain John Hunt, "can we borrow two of the Sentry drones?"

The Captain saluted at him, "Of course, sir. You can take 'A-3459' and 'G-6492'. They'll only respond to their own designations, but you may shorten them to 'A-3' and 'G-6'."

Jameson thanked the Captain and called for 'A-3' and 'G-6' to follow him. Two of the Sentry drones gathered around him along with Gamma squad and the Navy officer, motors whirring.

"Alright, listen up people." He raised his voice so all the soldiers on the pier could hear. "We're going to be meeting with the fine representatives of the 'Equestrian military' here. If we're not back by dawn, get the hell out of here as fast as possible. Keep your wits about you, stay calm, and be on guard. See you all in a few hours."

His miniature speech was met by a strong cheer from the gathered soldiers. Jameson noticed the Royal Guard knights looking slightly nervous.

With some difficulty, he climbed into the passenger seat of the Humvee. A Gamma squad Corporal- Owen Cooper, he remembered- took the driver's seat, while another soldier manned the gun. The rest formed a loose circle around the armored vehicle as it moved slowly past the American soldier line.

The Royal Guard soldiers led the group to the end of the pier where a larger force waited. Jameson recognised Major Steady Front amongst them.

"What's this sound-making monster, soldiers?" he said, pointing at the Humvee which towered over the heads of the much shorter ponies. Jameson stuck his head out of the window.

"This right here is a marvel of American engineering, the High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle, or Hmmmmvuw," Jameson stated, grinning.

The Major nodded in understanding. "Ah, it's like a mix between a train and a boat.... interesting. As long as it isn't dangerous" -his eyes drifted over the huge shielded gun on top of the Humvee, where Jameson imagined the soldier was trying to look as innocent as possible- "we'll allow you to use it. After all, it would be boring watching a cripple hobbling along slowly for a few hours," he sneered.

Jameson burned with rage inside, but outwardly he kept his cool.

"Just keep inside the Royal Guard escort. Try anything funny, and you'll be dead before you can count your hooves," continued the Major.

Jameson nodded, and the Major motioned for the base's tiny fence gate to be opened.

The strange procession spilled out onto the street, which was made of cobbled stone rather than the asphalt Jameson had expected. The three dozen or so Royal Guards formed a tight circle around the American delegation, forcing the soldiers to nearly hug the Humvee. They did however give a wide berth to the two Sentry drones trailing just behind the Humvee.

Jameson, leaning out of the window, noted a couple of Royal Guard pegasi circling above the procession, protecting against attacks from above.

Right, we'll have to worry about pegasi and thestrals too if we ever fight the ponies. And I don't even want to consider what their unicorns are capable of with 'magic'.

The street they were on was completely deserted, but as they moved farther away from the military dock they began to pass stunned, gawking civilian ponies. Finally they turned onto a much larger, busier main road.

The road was a bustle of activity, although the ponies were forced to the sides by Royal Guards keeping the center of the road clear. It seemed that, like New York, the city was busy in the night as people enjoyed the entertainment options after a long day of work.

However, as the escorted Americans came into view, the road fell nearly completely silent. Ponies stared, nudging and whispering to the others next to them. There was utter silence as they tried to comprehend this alien sight.

The Royal Guards moved a lot faster now, and the Rangers struggled to keep up with their much faster speed. Ponies had to dart out of the way of the Humvee as they moved down a side road which hadn't been cleared by Royal Guards yet. Jameson wondered what they must have been thinking of the strange procession.

After a few minutes of moving through a maze of streets and roads, receiving mostly the same reaction from ponies on the way, their escorts finally stopped them outside a large, official building with a tall staircase and Roman-like pillars which Jameson assumed was the City Hall. It was awkwardly slotted between several much taller apartment buildings, although they were shorter than those of most of the city.

A soldier of Gamma squad helped him out of the Humvee. Jameson recognised him as Specialist Todd, the lazy drone specialist from earlier that day. Hooking his crutch under his right arm, Jameson allowed himself and the rest of the American delegation to be escorted into the City Hall.

Aside from the sleepy, quiet reception room, the building was almost entirely deserted. Most of the Royal Guard soldiers waited there, while half a dozen remained to escort the humans. Major Steady Front led the group.

After a short trip down the narrow corridors of the building, they reached an official-looking wooden door set into the wall. The Major opened the door and ushered the soldiers inside, then closed the door behind them.

It was a large conference room with a glass table occupying the very center, able to seat over 20 people. At the opposite end, a midnight-black, extremely tall female pony with both a horn and wings sat, flanked by two of the same black-armored type of pony- thestrals- that the pony representatives on the boarding deck had had with them. Another black-armored pony had taken the chair next to the tall pony.

A banner hung behind the ponies on the wall. It displayed a blue-purple shield with a crescent moon lining the edge of the sun, yellow rays touching the edge of the shield. A white laurel wrapped around the sun, and four tiny stars evenly dotted the top of the shield. The moon and stars almost seem to glow.

Jameson took in the flowing, ethereal mane and tail of the tall pony which seemed to be filled with dim, tiny stars, the chestplate adorned with an official-looking crescent insignia, and the crown which was tucked in just behind her horn. Some sort of royalty, perhaps?

To stay on the safe side, Jameson bowed as best as he could with the crutch. His soldiers took the hint and did the same.

The royal pony led out a melodious laugh.

"We appreciate your manners when treating royalty but please, be at ease. You may sit."

Jameson took the chair at the head of the table opposite the royal pony, relieved to find that they were almost exactly like human chairs. After realising how awkward it would be to converse by shouting across the conference room, he moved to a seat closer to her.

The rest of his team did the same, until they were all seated around the table.

The royal pony motioned to one of the thestrals, who picked up a pen and official-looking notebook. She cleared her throat delicately.

"ahem. Princess Luna, presiding over the first official meeting between the Equestrian government and..." she looked at the Navy officer expectantly.

Jameson realised the Princess had mistaken the Navy officer for the leader of the American delegation. The officer shot him a sheepish grin as he corrected the Princess.

"Er, we represent the armed forces of the United States of America. I am Lieutenant Colonel Jameson, de facto commander of the USS Discord and, for the time being, of all American personnel in the area."

The thestral furiously scribbled down his statement as the Princess nodded, acknowledging that he was the actual leader of the American delegation, and proceeded with the formalities.

"Comprising the Equestrian delegation are Nightguard Commander Gleaming Fangs-" she motioned to the thestral sitting at the table "-and Nightguard Corporals Swift Blade and Eclipsed Range. Making up the... American delegation are..."

"Lieutenant Colonel Jameson Kayran, Sergeant Richard Hull, Sergeant Tiana Sampson..." He listed off all the members of Gamma squad, using their name badges to confirm he properly remembered their names. "...Sentry drones A-3459 and G-6492, and Navy-" He glanced at the Navy officer as he realised he didn't know the officer's name or even his rank.

"Lieutenant Red Roberts," whispered the Navy officer without taking his eyes off Princess Luna.

"-Navy Lieutenant Red Roberts."

The Princess nodded, "Let us begin the meeting. Lieutenant Colonel, We request that you answer all of the following questions to the best of your ability, as truthfully as you can. Do you understand?" Jameson simply nodded.

"Very well. Is there any term for your species?"

"Humans, Princess. We're humans, singular 'human'."

"Are the Americans or any other humans a threat to Equestria?"

"Well, I don't know ou-"

Luna cut him off. "Answer 'yes' or 'no, please, Lieutenant Colonel."

Jameson considered the question. From what he'd seen so far, the Equestrian military consisted mostly of sword-wielding ponies. Despite what the Major had said, he was sure a single Ranger could easily take on several earthponies from a distance.

Then there was the matter of technology. Although the ponies had electricity, water, modern warships, trains, and plenty of modern inventions from what Jameson had gathered, they were lagging far behind in technology which was useful in combat. He wasn't even sure if they had wireless communication or radar yet, and the only aircraft he had spotted had been a blimp floating over one of the main roads in Manehattan.

If the USS Discord, let alone the entire American military or even all of humanity, were to launch a sudden attack on the ponies, at least a couple dozen thousand would die from the initial aircraft bombings alone.

All-in-all, they were definitely a threat to Equestria. However, stating that you could, at any moment, commit genocide to a country's citizens during the first meeting with said country did not seem very diplomatic.

"No," he answered firmly.

The Princess looked him up and down, raising her eyebrows. With a shrug, she continued.

Weird. Did she catch on to my lie or did I just answer the question strangely?

"Do you mean any harm to any creature of Equestria?" Finally, a question he could answer truthfully.

"No."

The Princess nodded her head appreciatively. "How long have you been in Equestria, or the area surrounding it? Have you met anypony outside of Manehattan?"

Jameson thought about this. Had the strange industrial city they had seen in the morning been part of Equestria, or Russia? He decided that after their engagement with the attack force in the Antarctic, they had been teleported to Equestria.

"Just over 12 hours, your Majesty."

"'Your Highness'," corrected Gleaming Fangs, ", is the proper term for addressing a Princess." He had a smooth voice, like one you would expect of a singer rather than the veteran commander of a military department.

Jameson apologised for his error. "As for your second question, no. We kept our distance from the coast on our way here, and the first time we even saw a pony was in the Manehattan bay."

The Princess raised her hoof to her chin thoughtfully. "We would love to hear the story of the USS... Discord, you said?"

Jameson nodded and launched into his explanation: they had mysteriously appeared in a tropical sea, located and headed towards an industrial city- "That would be Stalliongrad, the production capital of Equestria." -but gone south instead because they had spotted a group of aircraft they recognised and wished to avoid- "Aircraft?" "Essentially flying ships." -and sailed straight south along the coast till they reached Manehattan and were intercepted by the Coast Guard.

Stalliongrad, not Stalingrad- and part of Equestria too. Is this an unknown land or something worse? Are we in an alternate dimension?

"That is not the entire story, We think," hmm-ed Luna, interrupting Jameson's thoughts. "What happened before the USS Discord appeared in Equestria? Why were you requesting medical aid from the Coast Guard?"

Jameson considered telling Princess Luna the whole story. He didn't trust them yet, especially because they were a monarchy. For all he knew, the populace was suppressed by a brutal royal dictatorship.

He exchanged glances with each of the Americans. Lieutenant Red Roberts gave him an encouraging smile and a nod.

Jameson made his decision. Taking a deep breath, he spilled the entire story to Princess Luna.

He explained the state of the human world; global war, with superpowers fighting for control after the sudden Russian invasion of the European Continental Alliance. He told the Princess about the Global Liberation Army, a terrorist organisation, against which the Americans and Chinese had banded and formed a close bond after its defeat two decades prior, and about how the USA, ECA, and China were currently allied together to push the Russians out of Europe and hopefully restore peace to the world.

Jameson related the USS Discord's mission in the Antarctic. They were part of the elite Quick Reaction Force and thus had been deployed almost immediately after the American military had detected a strange, unknown signal originating from there. Fearing another faction was finally attempting to conquer the frozen wasteland and take advantage of its proximity to South America, southern Africa, and Australia, the military had sent them out with little preparation to scout the area and report back.

They had been ambushed by a large fleet of Russian planes: fighter jets, cargo carriers, long-distance attack planes, the whole arsenal. The Russian planes had caused severe casualties, especially decimating the ship's entire Navy command corps in a single strike, and launched a huge, unstoppable missile at the ship. Before it had hit, the ship had suddenly appeared in Equestria.

The Princess made the appropriate sympathetic noises and understanding nods as she listened to the tale. Jameson felt his voice breaking when he talked about the wounded and the dozens of bodies, slowly rotting away on the top deck of the ship, with their loved ones and family and friends never to see again, perhaps not even ever knowing what happened to anyone on the USS Discord, as they were trapped here in-

A heavy, midnight blue hoof took him by the shoulder. Jameson turned to look into the soft, understanding gaze of the Princess, as he realised he had been rambling hysterically.

"Calm down, young one," she stated calmly.

Jameson felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. He had probably ruined the entire meeting. A quick scan of his fellow Americans' faces showed a mixture of pity, worry, and disgust.

The Princess Luna took in all of them and smiled comfortingly. "You are troubled by what you have seen. Our words can only offer minor relief, but know that you are not alone in this world.

"Others like you showed up in Canterlot, our capital, today. As we speak, my sister is conversing with them. I will not offer you more information, however. We do not want a conflict to begin here in Equestria, if they turn out to be your adversaries."

Jameson's heart lifted, then fell as he listened to her statement. It was most probably the Russians- and in the capital of the country! They were probably working to gain political influence at this very moment, while Jameson was breaking down in front of a Princess.

Not for the first time, he wished someone more capable had been there to take over the Discord.

"Now that we have been acquainted, it is time to move on to more important matters. Commander Gleaming Fangs will locate a pony to serve as your ambassador by dawn, who can answer the questions you must be having about ponykind."

The Princess pulled a pair of official-looking documents seemingly from nowhere. "This was drawn up while we were processing the citizenship of a warship defecting from the Imperial Griffon Legion, but we've modified it for your purposes." Jameson took one of the papers in his hands and began scanning it as Luna explained its contents.

"The USS Discord will be considered American territory; no Equestrian ponies will board the ship without your permission. Everyone on the Discord may freely walk around, get a job, start a business, and is entitled to every other right of an Equestrian citizen, but you may not leave Manehattan and each person must pass Equestrian immigration. The Royal Treasury will pay for your essential supplies and equipment. However, bear in mind-"

She drew herself up to full height. Most ponies had been just over half the height of humans, but Princess Luna easily towered over their heads, especially since they were sitting down. The cold gaze, slitted pupils, dark regalia, and ethereal mane and tail which were somehow flowing despite them being indoors, all combined to cast an intimidating image of an experienced and tough ruler.

Jameson could see why Princess Luna was royalty.

Lightning flashed through the window, thunder could be heard from far off- despite it being a clear night- and the electric lights in the room flickered dramatically.

"If you break Equestrian law," she boomed in a terrifying voice that forced the Americans and even the Nightguards to cover their ears, "you shall suffer the consequences. If any of you dare to even think about laying a hand on my little ponies, We shall personally ensure you are brought to justice."

The Princess smiled, sitting down, and the lights came back on. "Do you have any questions, Americans?" Her voice was normal again.

One of the Gamma squad soldiers nervously raised a finger.

"Uhhhh, you said we could, uhhh, get a job? What kind of, uhhhh, work can we do? And what's uhhh the currency used in Equestria?"

"The entirety of Equus- the name of this world, or land- uses 'bits' or a barter system. Don't worry, your ambassador can answer any other questions.

Jameson finished reading the paper. It was a standard, international-treaty-like document which outlined the rights and restrictions on both parties. It was mostly everything the Princess had described, so after a quick glance/nonverbal discussion with the rest of the American delegation, Jameson picked up a nearby pen to sign the paper.

The 'Equestrian Head of State' line was already filled, leaving only the '(blank) Head of State' line. Jameson wrote 'American' in the blank and, after a moment of hesitation, signed his own name.

The Princess smiled widely and shook Jameson's hand. Yet another monumental moment in both the parties' histories.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries- from which the Lieutenant Colonel learnt the Princess' species was called an 'alicorn' and was rare- before the Princess dismissed them. As Commander Gleaming Fangs escorted them down the corridor, past the suspicious Royal Guards, Jameson could faintly hear what was being said in the conference room.

"Oh, Corporal, please do fetch Us a cup of tea. The teleport spell really is tiring."

Oh Lord, they're just the British in disguise.

Author's Note

After realising just how long the paragraphs from Chapter 1 were, I've decided to use a bit more of variety in paragraph length. Hopefully it's less of an eyesore!
Also, this chapter is much, MUCH longer than I intended it to be. In the future they'll usually be around the length of Chapter 1 (3K-4K words)

Chapter 3/Russia: Breathe In

In times of war, the truest test of humanity is not in how well we defend ourselves, but in how fiercely we protect and uplift those around us.

???, August 6th, 2045. 9:00 AM

Everything went white.

Lieutenant Colonel Rujy Nagarin blinked, wondering why his vision had flashed white for a moment. He dismissed it and turned his attention back to the table covered with screens, radio phones, and documents- the 'command center' of the Volki task force air division. There was a moment of silence, then every radio burst to life at once.

"We've lost two-"

"-where in God's name-"

"-engines failing, I repeat, engines failing-"

Rujy sighed and hit the 'BROADCAST ALL' button.

"Command to all units, remember your training. Raise your hand before speaking, over," he ordered with a strong Russian accent.

All of the radios were silent before one brave operator spoke up.

"Command, Pilot Sokolov here. We appear to no longer be in Antarctica, check your camera feeds. Over."

The Lieutenant Colonel looked up at the wall of screens to see that they were, in fact, currently flying above what appeared to be an endless landscape of plains and forests. He tapped a nearby soldier on the shoulder, who picked up the radio set and lugged it behind Rujy as he rushed up a flight of metal stairs to the deck with the cockpit. Inside, the two pilots were desperately poring over a set of manuals and a map.

"Ah, Lieutenant Colonel," one of the pilots saluted. "We seem to-"

Rujy cut him off, "Yes, I know, comrade." He stared into the horizon. A vast body of water sparkled in the distance; a huge lake or the sea. Below, there were lush, green plains and patches of thick woods. A huge city sat on the coast, far to what the compass claimed was the south. He fiddled with the radio as the pilot attempted again to explain the situation.

"Sir, all of our engines have failed. We're currently gliding on a helpful wind current, but we can't stay up for long. The other aircraft report similar problems. Dedushka suggest-" The poor pilot was cut off yet again by a buzz from the radio.

"Unit 1-5 to Command. 2-11 is breaking off from the formation and all communication has ceased. Requesting permission to pursue. Over." Rujy's face tightened, and he held down the broadcast button again.

"Command here. Permission denied, 1-5. We don't understand the situation yet, stay in formation. Over." After he received 1-5's confirmation, he opened a line to the communications and navigation officers.

"Sargent Polsky Vlad, try to contact allied forces. Lieutenant, figure out where we are and if there's anywhere we can land if needed. Over."

The navigation officer replied almost instantly, "The computerised maps can't figure out anything with the data we have, sir. This is either uncharted territory or it hasn't been scouted for some time now. As for landing, the sea in the distance is looking very inviting, comrade. Over.

"Well then, Lieutenant, guide our fleet there. We'll be landing on the coast. Sarge, what've you got?"

"No response, comrade. Either the 38th' is sleeping or we're flying above the Yanks. Over."

"Sir, this chunk of metal won't make it to the coast. Too much weight."

Rujy muttered a curse and shoved the radio set into the arms of an officer just outside the cockpit without explanation. He leaped over the railing of the deck onto the main cargo floor of the plane, where soldiers sat along the edges or hurried around to prepare for the landing. A huge supertank occupied most of the space- the Blackbear model tank; pride of the Russian armored forces.

The Lieutenant Colonel barked orders to prepare the Blackbear to be deployed via parachute, which the soldiers hurriedly complied with. He climbed over the metal frame of the supertank till he reached the hatch, and swung it open to reveal a ladder leading down to a barely visible, dark space.

"Soldiers, we need to deploy the Blackbear. Are you ready?"

"Uhhh almost sir, just need to finish some last-minute preparations and make sure the crate with parts is securely fastened," said the tank captain. A muffled noise floated up that sounded suspiciously like someone eating chips.

"No worries, comrade. You can wait till we land, eh?"

Rujy grinned and hopped down from the tank, nodding to the group of soldiers standing ready to strap the tank to its parachute. Another soldier rushed to the cargo plane's ramp and set his fist just over the heavy red button on the wall. The young Lieutenant Colonel checked the straps of the crate full of parts necessary for the Blackbear to operate, then helped a soldier trying to attach another crate full of what appeared to be survival supplies.

Seeing the preparations completed, the Lieutenant Colonel signaled the soldier next to the ramp and held the railing along the edge of the plane firmly. The rest of the crew in the cabin did so too, and the soldier at the ramp hit the button.

"Hey, tank crew, buckle up! We're getting some turbulence!" shouted Rujy at the tank, receiving an illegible, muffled reply. The ramp lowered open and the tank rolled down the cabin, out of the plane. The unfortunate soldier next to the ramp, forgetting to brace himself, was also pulled out by the force of the wind.

The Lieutenant carefully rushed over to close the ramp, peeking out below he did so to see a group of three heavy parachutes and one, much smaller parachute blossom open far below. The Blackbear and the soldier were safe.

He slammed the 'CLOSE' button and made his way back up the cabin to the cockpit as the ramp slid close. He was greeted by the sight of the rapidly approaching body of water which was evidently too big to be a lake.

A fighter jet zoomed overhead, despite the engines of all the planes having failed. Rujy turned to the free pilot with his eyebrows raised.

The pilot explained, "We're caught in a strange wind current, leytenant polkovnik. It's letting us glide almost effortlessly, and the jets are struggling to keep formation."

After a moment's thought, Rujy shrugged it off. As long as they weren't barreling towards the ground or zooming at unimaginable speeds, he'd leave the flying to the pilots.

Grabbing a pen and paper, he sat down on a stool just next to the plane's controls and began sketching out their formation.

The cargo planes formed a loose 'W' shape, keeping the most vital ones securely in the middle and relatively safe from enemy fighters or anti-air weapons. In total there were 13 left; 2-5 had been lost in the quick skirmish with the American aircraft carrier, and 2-11 had just broken off, probably deserting. That left a gap in the middle front and back right of the 'W', positions which they didn't necessarily have to fill.

Around the cargo planes were 4 aircraft wings, each having 5 fighter jets. They loosely covered possible attack vectors on the formation and would harass enemy fighters or distract anti-aircraft if the Volki were attacked, giving the cargo planes enough time to escape or deploy their forces.

Overall, it was a well-prepared, carefully thought-out task force that could easily destroy any minor enemy unit: the best Rujy could have asked for on such short notice and with the ongoing war.

But nothing could have prepared them for teleporting deep behind potentially enemy lines, in an area they had no info on. The Lieutenant Colonel furrowed his brow, wondering how they'd get out of this situation. Snatching up another spare paper from the stack on the ground, he began drawing a map of the surrounding landscape while he took a moment to think.

If we can see the north half of the city, they may be able to see us and almost certainly hear us. We must be wary of any garrisoned forces.

The farmlands only stretch out a couple of kilometers from the city limits. If we're fast, we can skirt around far enough on foot to not be noticed by anyone and still get far away before the enemy investigates our aircraft.

Dammit, we should have given our comrades in the Blackbear long-range radios!

I promised I'd write to Babushka a few weeks ago...

"Lieutenant Colonel, preparing to land. We've found a nice, sandy beach with clear seas around- perfect for landing the fleet. Shall we proceed?"

"Ja, Pilot, go ahead. Coordinate and make sure we aren't all landing in the same spot."

Rujy stumbled out of the cockpit into the main cabin dimly lit by red emergency lights, where the crew were hastily putting their belongings in secure containers and strapping themselves into seats. A squad of young-looking soldiers crouched by the closed ramp, clutching rifles with a small rubber craft set in between the squad. Rujy approached them.

"Shouldn't you be in your seats?"

One of the soldiers turned to him- a Sergeant Major- and smirked at him. "Officer, we're doing a lot more than you, sitting on your ass in the cockpit." Rujy raised his eyebrows at this blatant disrespect.

Another soldier tapped the Sergeant Major and whispered into his ear. Rujy barely caught the words, "Jona, that's the Lieutenant Colonel. See the insignia." Jona laughed and spoke out loud.

"Just playing around with you... Lieutenant Colonel. Nice to meet you, I'm Jona Bolkov," he said casually, sticking out his hand for a shake instead of saluting as he should have.

Rujy smiled coldly and accepted it. One of the advantages of being extremely young for the job was that no one expected an officer in their mid-30s to be the highest ranking person in the area; he could easily assess how his soldiers actually behaved, when they weren't putting on a show for the brass.

"Bolkov? Are you perhaps related to-"

"Boris Bolkov, da. He's my dyadya, uncle."

Rujy nodded approvingly. "Boris is a great soldier. It's a shame they pulled him off the front to tour Russia. I hope you'll be at least a tenth as good as him. Anyways, let us not get off track," he motioned towards the rubber boat and tense soldiers. "What's with all of this?"

"Well, comrade, we'll be towing the plane to shore after we land. Got to be quick, we don't want the plane to get shredded by rocks. If you're not as insane as us, you should enjoy one of those comfy seats over there."

Hm. Jona doesn't show the respect he should towards his superiors, but him being Boris' nephew has to mean something, as well as him having such an important job on the plane... I'll keep him in check, for his own good.

Right on cue, Rujy felt the plane begin its descent and listened to the pilot announcing their imminent landing. He hurriedly strapped himself into the seat closest to the ramp, next to a smoking soldier who somehow managed not to swallow the cigarette despite the bumpy ride down to the water. The cabin was mostly silent except for the occasional clink of metal against metal as rifle stocks collided with the floor. The Lieutenant Colonel could practically feel the tension in the air- it seemed news of their sudden teleportation had spread, or that the stress of their skirmish with the American carrier had finally caught up.

The plane shook lightly as it splashed onto the water, landing as smoothly as possible without its engines to control its speed and rotation. Even as the plane was still slowing to a halt, Jona's squad opened the ramp and dragged the rubber boat to the edge.

Rujy blinked away the bright light bursting into the plane to see a sandy, golden beach a few hundred meters away. To the left and right, the other cargo planes were landing in a similar fashion as the command plane: they flew in low over the beach to meet the water just a few meters ahead, then used their air flaps to quickly slow down while skidding over the sea.

Meanwhile, the fighter jet pilots had much more trouble. Most of them landed smoothly along the beach, but others weren't so fortunate. The fighters landing in the water almost immediately disappeared as the sea swallowed them up, their pilots hurriedly crawling out of the cabins and swimming for land.

The Lieutenant grimaced as he took in the last cargo plane coming in; its left wing was dented and it seemed to be struggling to control its descent. As he and the rest of the soldiers in the cabin watched, the plane came in too low and failed to glide over the beach. Instead, the front of the plane crumpled into the hard earth and dirt just behind the sandy beach, with the fuselage rolling over before coming to a rest at the very edge of the beach. The shallow water lapped at its base as the wreckage slid slightly into the ground.

Rujy shouted to Jona's squad, who were already in the small rubber craft, hooked up to the cargo plane and ready to tow it to land. "Get a move on! We need to help our comrades!"

No one responded as the boat's motor roared to life and it began tugging the plane to shore.

Slowly. Painfully slowly.

As the boat pulled the plane to the beach, Rujy organised the other planes over the radio and prepared them to aid the crashed one. Fortunately, there had been no issues in landing besides the crash, and they had only lost 6 fighter jets. The landed jet pilots on the beach were already pulling survivors out from the wrecked plane where they could.

Rujy wished he could get their info on the situation, but their radios were firmly fastened to the jet cabins.

By the time the command cargo plane reached the shore, two others had already docked and were now swarming over the plane wreck with heavy equipment and medical supplies, helping those they could and identifying those they couldn't. The heavy ramp of the plane touched the bed of the shallow water, and Rujy ordered the men to aid with helping the crash victims as planned.

Meanwhile, he had a vital meeting to attend to.

"A small scout unit is moving through the forest here," a wrinkled, gnarled hand pointed at a shaded part of the crudely drawn map, "and will report back to us in 10."

Rujy glanced back from his careful observation of the emergency aid taking place on the plane wreck. By now, every body- dead or alive- had been cleared from the crash and moved to triage. Most of the non-medical personnel were currently occupied with extracting what equipment and vehicles they could.

"Ah, dedushka, good call on that. I suggest we pack up and leave as soon as the scouts return. Our aerial 'incursion' no doubt attracted Yankee buzzers, and we must find a suitable place to treat the wounded."

The third member standing around the metal stool spoke up indignantly, "Are you insane? We have no idea where we are or we can go, our injured may not make the journey,"- he motioned at the medics desperately operating on the sand- "and the enemy will find us no matter what. It would be best to make a stand here, with the shelter and equipment of the aircraft, instead of wandering off looking for a safe haven!"

"Captain Rolan Semyonov. I'd like to remind you who is in cha-"

"I know who's in charge, and you're an incompetent fool. Captain Artimey here is five times your age and ten times more experienced."

Rujy's felt hot frustration and rage boil up inside him. Yet another subordinate questioning him simply because of how young he was. It was with a measured voice that he stated, "You may bring up the issue with High Command. For now, we must get out of wherever this is, if we hope to have at least a chance of surviving. It will do us no good to fight. Comrade?"

Captain Rolan huffed and marched off in defeat, only sparing a salute to Rujy. Captain Artimey, the old, blue bereted officer, chuckled as he swept the map off the stool and lowered himself onto it.

"You should not antagonise Semyonov, Nagarin. Although he may appear to be rash and short-tempered, he's one of the best officers I know. Almost like Boris, if Boris was sensitive about his age."

Rujy laughed despite the awful situation and current dispute. "Uverennaya veshch', dedushka. I won't let him disrespect me, though."

The old Captain simply nodded and began conversing with another junior officer. Rujy took this to mean that Artimey approved of his plan, and set out to prepare the men to leave.

It was in grim silence that the now 500-strong battalion marched down a loose dirt path in the thick forest, the late afternoon sun barely filtering in on them. Their 30 or so vehicles had been reserved for carrying supplies and wounded, leaving most of the soldiers to walk on foot.

At this point, everyone understood what was happening. They had teleported deep into enemy territory, likely by American tech, been forced to ditch their aircraft, and had entirely lost two cargo planes' crews and supplies. The Blackbear was separated from the main force, leaving both parties highly vulnerable to an attack, and they had no idea where they were.

Suffice it to say, morale was low and Rujy found even himself being infected by the poor mood. He focused on keeping himself updated on the status of the injured, rationing efforts, and how well the battalion was moving through such a densely wooded area.

It felt as though the trees were closing in on the soldiers, forcing the entire unit to walk in a thin file along the trail that was only defined by the cleared trees and marched steadily southwestwards. Rujy was concerned that they may eventually reach a main road or, worse, the huge city to the south he had sighted from the air.

Rujy saw the leading section of soldiers stop and crowd around something on the side of the path. He slung his rifle over his back and jogged to the front of the convoy, ignoring Captain Rolan's protests about security. The squad members saluted to him as he came to a halt and looked at what had interested them.

It was a sign, in Russian, facing away from the direction the convoy was approaching from. It read:

Warning, Dangerous Woods. Do Not Enter. Like seriously, do not enter, you will die immediately.

Public safety message courtesy of the Stalliongrad Outer Metropolitan Administration.

With a shrug, Rujy motioned for the squad to continue ahead and waited for the rest of the convoy to catch up. He slipped in next to Captain Rolan.

"Captain, it would appear we're somewhere near Stalingrad- or a poorly spelled version of it. This is great news! Tonight we'll be sharing our exploits with the Stalingrad garrison over a few shots of Vodka."

Captain Rolan shook his head and lowered his voice. "Nyet, Lieutenant Colonel. It doesn't line up. We received no welcome, no radio contact, and we still do not know how we got here. I believe... I believe Stalingrad has fallen."

Rujy's blood went cold as he considered this possibility. Considering everything that had happened, it made the most sense. With an equally quiet voice he whispered back, "Do not tell the men. We will keep our distance from Stalingrad and try to regroup with any retreating elements, or camp on the outskirts of the city and wait for an allied counterattack. Although it may be quite a distance away- Stalingrad is far inland, so the coastal city we spotted might be a town under Stalingrad administration rather than the great city itself."

The Captain nodded slowly. "...I agree. Let us continue."

As the soldiers marched onwards, Rujy quietly hummed an old, sorrowful tune he had heard a long time ago.

"Lieutenant Colonel! We've reached the edge of the forest!"

Rujy flicked his flashlight on and hurried to the front of the battalion, where weary soldiers were filtering out of the woods, relieved to be in a wide open space again after so many hours; first in the plane and then trekking in the dense woods.

A Wolverine- the VDV's main airborne IFV, which was a heavily armed APC- rolled out of the forest. Captain Rolan hopped down from the side along with two other escorts.

"Now what, Lieutenant Colonel?" he motioned into the darkness. From the dim light of the moon, they could barely make out the outline of some hills blocking their view a couple of kilometers away. There was a faint, orange glow of electric light just barely visible. To the left and right, and the edge of the forest formed a huge semi-circle. It seemed the only way forward was over the hills, which Rujy relayed to Captain Rolan.

He looked around at the battalion, which had finished spilling out of the woods. Some of them had formed a loose defensive perimeter around the battalion, while a squad covered the route they had come from. The rest, however, simply took the time to rest, eat and drink, and converse about what had happened. Rujy didn't want to drag them into the countryside while they were resting.

"Alright, here's the plan. I'll take a squad with me to scout that light we can see across the hills, while you and dedushka set up a perimeter on the hills' summits and let the other men rest for a bit. They deserve it."

The Captain objected, "It's not safe for you to join the scout group, and they don't require you to lead them anyways; they'd do just as well under their regular squad leader. It would be be-"

Rujy raised a hand. "I'm going and that's final. We'll fight our way out if we're ambushed. Rasslablyat'sya- relax, comrade."

Captain Rolan didn't press the issue, but wore a small frown on his face. Rujy ignored this and called over a free VDV squad, explaining their task to them.

Within a few minutes, the squad was positioned at the crest of the tallest nearby hill. From here they had quite a view.

To the north and east, the huge forest almost completely blocked their view, with the huge coniferous trees towering easily towering over the hills.

For as far as they could see westwards were mostly flat plains which faded away into the darkness. A small, double storey farmhouse with a few plots of tilled soil sat much closer, just a few minutes' jog and within clear sight of the hills. A single light shone brightly from a window in the ground floor. A small dirt path was barely visible, leading down to the south.

Rujy turned his gaze towards the south, following the path into the darkness and- he gasped sharply as he took in the sight beyond that. Set between the vast pitch black of the country and the barely visible glitter of the coast was a huge display of lights; the city they had spotted earlier. It was like an island of light in a sea of darkness, clearly visible even at such a tremendous distance.

The inner city was surrounded by a short wall, with what appeared to be factories and warehouses hugging it from the outside, and dense residential commie blocks occupying the interior. From their position, they could see a main road snaking in from the city walls to reach a huge, grand City Hall with Roman-like architecture.

The Lieutenant Colonel tore his eyes away from the sight and motioned quietly for the squad to proceed to the nearby house. They instinctively split into two teams curving around the house, one heading for the front and the other for the back.

With a grimace, Rujy stepped into the light. If anyone was watching from the house or the surrounding area, they'd now clearly be able to see the Russian squad.

The squad had already swept through the tiny ground floor, which seemed to consist only of a lounge and kitchen separated by a single wall, with a flight of wooden stairs leading to the second floor. While the squad took up positions around the stairs and windows, Rujy inspected the kitchen and lounge.

Both of the rooms were impeccably neat and tidy, and the kitchen was devoid of any consumables or other items aside from the occasional pots and cutlery in the cupboards, suggesting no one had used either rooms in a while. There were no pictures or really any decorations hanging on the lounge walls aside from a 'Quality Assurance' farming certificate. The furniture was clearly of Russian make, though: further proof they were in Russia.

Rujy, unslinging his assault rifle, joined the squad quietly trooping up the stairs. At the top was a dark bedroom, taking up the entire top floor. Two windows faced opposite sides, with shelves and a wardrobe lining the left wall. Directly across from the stairs was a bed with a heavily snoring, clearly asleep figure under a blanket.

The squad leader motioned forward and one soldier stepped stealthily towards the bed with a nod. He carefully lifted up the blanket to check who was there, then rushed back.

"Sir, there's a... small, weird-looking horse in a coat sleeping there." He said this defensively, as if he expected someone to turn down his statement.

The squad leader turned to Rujy expectantly. After a moment's consideration, he came to a decision and withdrew his combat knife.

"We don't want it to make noise, and we have no use for it. I'll put it down."

Jeez, some people are weird. Who puts a horse in their bed?

Creeping over to the bed, Rujy quietly peeked under the covers. Just as the soldier had described, there was the head of a very odd, small horse with soft, round facial features clearly deep asleep. The face was eerily similar to that of a human in that Rujy could tell it was slightly distressed just from its facial expression. It had an unusual deep navy blue coat and bright blue mane, and was male.

With only a slight twinge of guilt, the Lieutenant Colonel put the knife under the horse's throat and sliced it cleanly. The horse jerked as blood poured out, and Rujy could almost swear he could see shock and horror in its face, then went limp a few seconds later with another stab to the weak throat artery.

Meanwhile, the squad had turned on the single light bulb and scoured the room, checking every wardrobe and shelf. Judging from the lack of personal possessions, it seemed no one was living there. Two squad members tossed the corpse out of the window- much to the surprise of the soldiers holding the ground floor- and headed down. Rujy and the squad leader follow them, leaving only a soldier each stationed at the windows.

After some discussion with the squad leader, Rujy headed back to the main battalion with a small escort while the squad got to work hacking down unnecessary furniture and digging rectangular holes outside the house.

After all, the horse wasn't the only corpse they had to bury tonight.

Rujy insisted on participating in the first watch. To his surprise, Captain Rolan hadn't objected, but had gone to rest along with most of the battalion.

The house itself was reserved for the injured and weather-sensitive equipment. They had parked the 34 vehicles in a sort of loose perimeter around the house, allowing the battalion to set up tents and stoves to finally catch up on their sleep and cook some meals.

The Lieutenant Colonel sat on the edge of a Grizon, devouring a warm piece of bread with cheese and a lukewarm bottle of coke. The night was pleasantly not too warm and not too cold, although the clouds blotted out the stars and prevented them from seeing more than few a meters out. The heavy lights of the IFVs, APCs, and jeeps, however, cut clear beams into darkness, allowing the defenders to spot any potential enemies as far as the hills around them. Laughing soldiers stood on top of the vehicles with slung rifles chatting about the day's exploits.

Rujy was glad that morale was a bit higher, despite the squads just behind them lowering covered bodies into a hurried mass grave.

He chewed on a chunk of bread, suddenly feeling drowsy. It seemed he was... a lot more tired out than he'd thought.

I'll just... go and find a nice, warm blanket and a chair... or sleep here...

The last thing Rujy saw before his vision went dark were black shapes creeping into the light.

Author's Note

I apologise to any Russian speakers damaged by the Russian-sounding words I invented.

Chapter 4/ECA: Comfort of the Castle

Recruits go to war for the action and bravery and sacrifice. They return with a newfound respect for a quiet and calm night.

Ambassadors' Wing, Canterlot Castle, 6th August, 2045. 03:04 PM

boing-boing-boing

scribble-scribble

"...and thus, first contact was made. A historic moment for all man- and pony-kind..."

bang-bang

Chief Corporal First Class Andrej decided suicide by table-head smashing wasn't fast and pushed his chair back from the small, posh oak desk in the corner of the bedroom. Behind him, Soldier First Class Everard and Soldier First Class Lukas North were watching their fellow Soldier Newbery's acrobatics on the huge, incredibly bouncy king sized bed while Corporal Harris Romano had taken over another desk to write what he called 'the greatest nonfiction journal ever created'.

Corporal Harper was currently in the fancy bedroom's ensuite bathroom; his intestines had not liked the drop from zero-gravity space at mach 25. The two women in the squad, SFC Janelle and Chief Corporal Sharice, had been given another room entirely to themselves just across the hall.

Andrej strolled over to the fourth-story window- an ornate glass with velvet curtains- to gaze outside.

The view would make any Swiss mountaineer instantly jealous. The ambassadors' wing of 'Canterlot Castle', where the 200 soldiers, engineers, medics, and scientists from the European Continental Alliance currently resided, was a huge four-story building that, despite its height, managed to almost blend into the vegetation and greenery of the castle grounds when gazed upon from outside.

The part of the castle where the wing was stretched out into the city on the castle's west, allowing each room an unobstructed view of Canterlot's rich uptown beyond the castle's outer walls. It was clearly meant to act as a display of wealth and power to any visiting dignitaries.

Below, Andrej watched armored Royal Guards- which seemed to be Equestria's ceremonial military force- patrolling the grounds. The ponies, mostly unicorns albeit with some earthponies, pegasi, and other species he had never seen, had weapons sheathed at their sides. These ranged from battle axes to swords- he had yet to see any kind of firearm.

Beyond there were rows of houses and shops stretching till the huge, steep mountains, which enfolded the city from almost all sides. Andrej could honestly see why the city was the capital of what was supposedly one of only a handful of countries in this world.

Firstly, the city was built along the side of a literal mountain. On the lower half of the mountain was Lower Canterlot, where the bulk of the population and industry were located. Apartment buildings, businesses, and houses occupied whatever space they could find in the maze of streets which wound up and down- literally- through the city. A handful of main streets ran in a zigzag from the base of the mountain to Canterlot Castle.

The other part of the city, Upper Canterlot, was built on a sort of plateau that appeared to have been carved right out of the mountain. Except for where it was connected to Lower Canterlot, Upper Canterlot was surrounded by huge mountains of rock towering over it, snow capping their peaks. The difference in height made Andrej feel slightly queasy.

Upper Canterlot was mostly occupied by the upper- and upper-middle class, with mansions for the rich and apartment blocks for those who serviced them or worked at the castle. According to the ponies, Equestria was extremely equal in wealth and quality of life, but evidently there was still a gap between the rich and the commonfolk.

The architecture of the buildings seemed to Andrej like a mix of every European culture. It felt strangely familiar and new at the same time- if it weren't for ponies walking the streets or soaring overhead, and the location of Canterlot, it could have been any large western European town.

A loud clatter of metal and a crash behind him made Andrej leap forwards into the window. He whipped his head to see SFC Newbery out cold on the floor, a dented metal grate on the floor next to him. Lukas was checking on him while Everard stared upward in shock.

Andrej looked up too to see a gap in the roof where the cover to the ventilation system was. with the head of a grey-coated pony stuck out. She was gnawing on a stark red apple with two fangs in her mouth, her light red mane hanging down
limply. Andrej could make out the tips of wings just behind her shoulder.

Corporal Harris grabbed his assault rifle, lying next to the desk, and tossed a pistol to Andrej which he caught deftly, flicking off the safety.

"DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE!"

The pony- a thestral- raised her hooves in surrender, apple stuck in one of her fangs.

"Domt shoot!" Her voice was muffled by the apple, which she unpinned from her fang with a hoof.

Andrej moved carefully across the room, keeping the pistol pointed at the thestral. He stopped next to the door and exchanged the pistol for a more accurate rifle, placing his hand on the doorknob.

"Wait, no! I'm sorry about err, knocking out your friend, it was an accident!" She glanced at SFC Newbery who was now sitting with his back to the wall, attended by SFC Lukas.

He sighed.

"What are you doing up here?"

The thestral had retreated further up into the vent, and Andrej could just barely see her taking a wary bite from the apple.

"I live here. I heard a lot of noise so I came to investigate."

Newbery grinned guiltily.

"So," the thestral said as she carefully lowered herself further from the vent, evidently hanging upside from some point inside it, "who are you? I haven't ever seen any of your species before. It's like if a griffon and a minotaur had a deformed ugly baby." She made fake puking motions.

Andrej decided not to take offense. "Well, we're humans, from the world of Earth. We're all soldiers of the European Continental Alliance and we were, er, dropping from space and somehow landed just below Canterlot. Then we met wi-"

"WAIT, WHAT? FROM SPAAAAAAACE?" The thestral's eyes are wide in awe. From Andrej's limited experience with the ponies, he decides she must be a teenager or young adult.

"Oh, yes. Our technology is much more advanced than yours. We have a magnetic launcher that can send rockets with supplies or people outside the atmosphere with just a bit of electricity. Everyone here from the ECA was on standby on an orbital station. There was some urgent mission in Antarctica- that's an icy continent to the very south of Earth- and our orbital station was the only one orbiting close enough to get the drop pods down quickly."

The thestral, having finished her apple, put her hoof to her chin thoughtfully. "So, there's more of you here? How many? Are they all Your-o-peen soldiers? Are they all ugly? Do any of them have wings? Can they be sneaky? Can they sink their fangs into someo-"

"Alright, chill it, thestral. What's your name?"

The thestral jumped a little at the interruption. "Oh, right! I'm Hopeful Shadow, and you can just call me a batpony! 'Thestral' is just what the fancy people use."

Andrej nodded and shuffled once again to the door. The batpony's 'fangs' comment had put him on edge.

SFC Everard was still trying to load his rifle, currently slotting bullets into an empty magazine, and Lukas was tending to the extremely dizzy Newbery. Corporal Harper had not yet appeared from the bathroom, despite all the ruckus.

If the batpony attacked, they could probably kill it before it did any damage if it shared the anatomy and durability of a regular horse. However, he didn't know if it had any magic or ranged attacks, or more mundane weapons. It would only take a fraction of a second for the batpony to throw a dagger or knife at any one of them.

The uncomfortable silence was broken by the door smashing into Andrej's back, sending the batpony back into the vent with a hiss and almost causing Andrej to fire his rifle.

He spun around to see Chief Corporal Sharice and SFC Janelle standing in the doorway, concerned looks on their faces- or, at least, on Janelle's face. Janelle had apparently hastily donned full heavy combat gear: bulletproof gear covering her entire torso, and a combat helmet sitting lopsided on her head. Sharice, meanwhile, was simply wearing regular non-combat uniform. Both of them carried assault rifles.

Sharice inspected the room, taking in the rifles and pistols in everyone's hands, SFC Newbery lying against the left wall, Everard surrounded by fallen bullets, and vent soot covering the huge king bed just in front of the doorway. A flush sounded from the bathroom to the right and Corporal Harper stepped out, pistol gripped tightly in one hand.

"So, chief.... we heard some noise and came to investigate," Sharice said with a French accent. She gave Andrej a judgmental stare.

He waved his arms wildly at the room. "There was uhhhh a vampire in the vents... and she tried to kill the... and Everard's magazines were empty... so we made it surrender and uhhh..." He shrugged. "Everything's fine, I suppose."

Sharice rolled her eyes. "Alright then. While you were fighting the vampires hiding in the ventilation system, command distributed duties to everyone. Here," she passed a two-page document to Andrej, who lay his rifle against the wall.

By order of this unit's commanding officers, on behalf of the European Continental Alliance:
Due to the loss of contact with ECA High Command for the foreseeable future, all ECA missions in the area will come under the command of Commandant Woodward. The following rules are in effect until further notice:

All equipment not currently in squad possession must be cleared by the head Quartermaster before being signed out.

No paramilitary member, soldier or officer may leave the building without express permission of a Captain and without their squad unless part of their duties.

Follow Red Zone safety rules: Keep a weapon on you or within reach at all times, ensure your squad leader always knows your location, and avoid frivolous use of supplies.

Keep your ID on you AT ALL TIMES

You will not receive pay.

If you wish to dispute these rules, please contact a clerk of your nationality and have them file a complaint.

Andrej looked up. "Aren't all our clerks back on Earth? And what's this about us not receiving pay?"

Sharice shrugged. "There's no money to pay us with, and it's worthless in Equestria anyways. No point in getting paid." Andrej hmphed at this and resumed reading.

Remember, we are not just Europe's, but the entirety of humanity's ambassadors to an entire world of sentient creatures. Be trusting and kind, but also vigilant.

See the second document for your squad's duties and schedules.

Good luck, and God save us all.

Andrej picked up and inspected the other page. It showed a table of squad names, duties, and timings. He scanned the 24-squad list- noting the times the guard would be changed and when the paramilitary departments would be available- until he came to 'Wooderatten'.

Their duty simply read 'Public Relations', with the timings slot being left empty. Andrej turned over the page to see notes on each duty.

Public Relations- Interact with local populace and authorities. Gather intel on way of life, improve public image, etc. May leave building at any time.

That was surprising. The Wooderattens were the youngest squad in the unit, having been sent to the orbital purely so that more veteran sections could be diverted to the front lines. He had expected them to receive guard duty or a desk job, not the important task of PR in such a situation. He shrugged.

"Alright, squad. Get suited up. Yellow zone combat gear. We move out at... 3:20." The small crowd of squadmembers around him dispersed with salutes to get ready. Andrej joined them while he formulated a plan in his head.

"Ready, chief."
"Ready, sir!"
"...and the Wooderattens now prepared to head out into..."
"Do you think five armor plates are enough?"
"R-ready! I think?"
"Can we go now?"
"Ready, sir."

Andrej inspected his squad proudly. Corporal Harris had brought a notepad with him to document their 'travels', Janelle was wearing way too much equipment, and Everard was still struggling to tie his helmet strap, but it seemed they were well prepared. He gave Newbery a light pat on the back to stop the hyperactive soldier from bouncing all over the place, and motioned down the corridor.

To say that the Floor 4 of the Ambassadors' Wing was spacious would be an understatement. Each room easily accommodated an 8-man squad each, potentially twice as many if they were housed as tightly as in regular barracks, yet there were over 40 rooms on the floor. The layout was simple, with a single corridor running the length of the building, bedrooms and other cupboards, dining halls, and conference rooms lining both sides.

The corridor itself was huge. The ceiling stretched upwards so far that they had to crane their necks to look up at it; the corridor was clearly designed with flying species in mind.

The unit had taken advantage of the width of the corridor to pile equipment and building materials on either side without blocking movement, as well setting up a small command center currently occupied by two squads with Commandant Woodward. In fact, it was so wide you would need to park two main battle tanks to-

Andrej stopped short at the sight of two Leopard MBTs blocking the end of the corridor, the still decently wide gap between them being taken up by a small desk and crates to funnel visitors into a metal detector. It seemed they were already trying to turn the place into a secure embassy.

As the squad approached the checkpoint, Andrej could hear a loud argument taking place between a navy-blue pegasus and one of the human guards on duty. A pair of unicorn Royal Guard watched intently from the other side.

"I'm not stepping into your-" the pegasus glared at the metal detector- "infernal machine."

"Qu'attendez-vous de moi ? Se rendre?" replied the guard, appearing bored. Andrej could tell otherwise from the Frenchman's tight grip on his rifle. "On ne se rend pas toujours, tu sais."

"I don't speak Prench," huffed the pegasus. Andrej flashed his ID at the French guard, who moved aside to let them pass.

On the other side, the pegasus gave them a suspicious glare while the two Royal Guards blocked their path. Andrej could swear he heard quiet movement coming from the empty space to his left, but he dismissed it.

"Halt! State your intentions."

"We've been assigned to tour the city and learn about the pony way of life," replied Andrej diplomatically.

The guard to the right- a white-armored, white-coated pony with a special orange marker on her right front shoulder- looked them over skeptically. Andrej uncomfortably shifted his rifle, which was slung over his shoulder.

After a moment, the guard shrugged and motioned to one of the four rooms on the 'Equestrian side' of the corridor.

"Ask for the journalist team. If they're on break, come back in half an hour."

Andrej nodded his thanks and walked over to the room, leaving his squad by the checkpoint. The door was wide open, revealing about a dozen ponies with desks, large stacks of paper, sofas, and some equipment. If it wasn't for the various forms of medieval weaponry along with other sharp-looking objects resting in a rack against the far wall, this could have been mistaken for an office room without computers.

About half of the ponies were busily working at the desks, only sparing a curious glance or two at Andrej, while a group of ponies in Royal Guard armour were deep in conversation around a water dispenser. Andrej decided it was safe to enter and approached the guards.

"...and they actually let it sign up."

"What the hell? We can't join the Nightguard, but batponies can join the Royals? Sounds like the Princess is playing favourites."

"I dunno. The Nightguard is much ne- oh, hello."

"Er, hi. I'm looking for the 'journalist team'."

A pegasus gave a small laugh and motioned over to three of the ponies standing around the dispenser.

"Well, you've found them. Shushie Hoofs, Silver Hide, and Blurry Flash," he pointed at an earthpony stallion, pegasus mare, and unicorn stallion in turn, "can help you with... whatever it is you need."

"Right, well... we kind of need to tour the city, if you have a couple of hours?"

"There's no way."

"Yep, he's totally reformed now. I hear he's living with Fluttershy at a small town called Ponyville. Just rumours, tbough."

As the Wooderattens walked down the streets of Canterlot with the pony journalist, the Coporals and SFCs had struck up a lively conversation about the recent history of Equestria.

They were currently talking about some mad chaos god called Discord. Andrej was trying to wrap his head around the power of magic in the world of Equus, but it seemed the younger squad members had instantly accepted it. He glanced over at Chief Corporal Sharice, who as usual was quiet and cold. She was subtly watching any civilian ponies that took an interest in them, although there weren't many as the journalist team had led them through the back routes of Canterlot.

"...and she's like, one of the fastest pegasi alive! Wait, have I told you about the Wonderbolts yet? They're- oh, we're here."

The street ended very abruptly at the huge wall at the edge of Lower Canterlot, which they somehow hadn't been able to see before. It stood proud and gleaming with stark-grey stone bricks. There were occasional stairs leading up to the top of the wide wall, which they climbed up to reveal a stunning sight.

Now that they were below the thin fog which had clouded the view from Canterlot Castle, Andrej could see endless rolling plains, forests, and rivers stretching to the horizon. A couple of large farming towns dotted the landscape, with large roads winding through the terrain to connect them. It was as awesome as the view from Canterlot Castle, in its own way.

"Canterlot," Sharice said suddenly. Andrej turned to her.

"What?"

"Canterlot." She gave a sudden giggle which Andrej could only describe as 'insane'. "When a pony is running, you say they're cantering."

"OH." Andrej understood and stifled a laugh of his own. "Well, it's no worse than... Moscow."

He continued to take in the details of the landscape for a few minutes while he collected his thoughts on Equestria, ponies, and other dimensions. The rest of the squad had resumed listening to Shushie Hoofs and Blurry Flash's tales about the country and the Elements of Harmony, whatever those were.

Sharice, Andrej, and the pegasus, Silver Hide, stood together silently on the edge of the wall until Silver Hide spoke up.

"Like the view?"

"Oh, yes. Slovakia's countryside was beautiful but this... I think nothing on Earth can compare to it. It's gorgeous."

Silver Hide's grin turned slightly mischievous, which Andrej didn't properly register.

"Hypothetically, if you were to be picked up into the air, where would you be picked up from?"

"Hm? From under the shoulders, I suppose. Why- AHHHHH"

The pegasus had grabbed Andrej from the armpits and shot straight up into the sky with a single beat of her wings. They rapidly ascended Canterlot as Andrej's screaming subsided.

"Alright, alright, give a little warning first," he shouted over the rushing wind.

"Oh, sorry." Silver Hide didn't look very repentant.

It took them barely half a minute to get above Upper Canterlot, and Silver Hide's ascent slowed down as the air thin. Andrej kept his eyes firmly on her face, not daring to look down. Her eyes glinted with the joy and rush of flight.

"Oh, don't worry, human! If you happen to accidentally fall from my grip I'll catch you. Although you are a bit heavy..."

Well, I'm never going to get an opportunity like this again. May as well take a look...

Andrej forced his gaze downwards and gasped.

Although it was heavily obscured by clouds and fog, Upper Canterlot was laid out like a model town below them. He could just barely see ponies going about their late afternoon routines, with the massive Canterlot Castle and its glittering domes and spires overseeing it all. Most of the buildings were white, gold, or similar bright colours, which almost hurt to look at.

Andrej could also see a few dozen pegasi flying above or even walking on the clouds above the city. He pointed at it, shouting to Silver Hide.

"What are those pegasi doing?"

"Those are weather ponies scheduling some rainfall tonight, and some civilian pegasi just enjoying a walk on the clouds. Do you want to take a closer look?"

Andrej decided he'd had enough of flying for a day.

"No thanks, can you take us back down?"

"Aw.. alright."

Silver Hide pulled her wings in and glided down smoothly. Now that he wasn't panicking about flying, Andrej noticed ponies pointing or staring at the strange pair. He wondered how long it would take for the ponies to get used to humans in Canterlot- or if they'd adapt to them at all.

"That'll be eleven bits."

"Here you go!"

Andrej gave his vanilla ice cream an experimental lick. It was a lot thicker than he was used to, and the cone was wider, but it tasted almost exactly like any street vendor's ice cream back in Europe. He gave a thumbs up at Silver Hide's query about the taste.

The group had found a bench outside an inn- yet again reminding Andrej that pony technology and society was remarkably like that of the later medieval times- and bought an ice cream each from a passing vendor, who had used magic rather than industrial machinery to prepare and cool it.

"Speaking of bits," Newbery said as he finished off his cone, "you guys don't have internet or computers yet you have radios, right?"

Blurry Flash nodded.

"Given what you have described, our level of technology does not match that of yours. While we're on the topic of technology, I was curious about your friend's equipment..." He nodded towards Janelle's heavy armor and next-gen helmet.

Andrej narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly at Newbery, who had opened his mouth to reply. Blurry Flash had been asking military-related questions for the entire tour, trying to worm them into the conversation and make them seem innocent, but Andrej didn't want to be spilling military 'secrets' to the ponies just yet.

"Oh, the armourrrrrrrrrrrheyyyyyyy soooo if there's no internet that means there's no internet companies, right? We're sure to make a killing in such an untapped market!"

Andrej faked a hearty laugh- he had lots of experience, from dealing with officers- which was joined by the genuine laughs of his squadmates.

A batpony with a camera hanging from his neck trotted over to the group.

"Two bits for a picture? It's great quality, one of the newest model cameras available!"

The squadmembers and ponies mumbled their agreement and, after Silver Hide passed over two bits, posed in front of the inn.

Click!

I'm sick of listening to these quotes about bravery and glory and the true meaning of life. War is simply a dirty mess where no one knows what's happening.

???, ???. ???

Clink.

Another empty, brown bottle joined the growing group on the edge of the top deck. Another full bottle left the other group nearby.

The bright lights from the buildings nearby barely illuminated the face of the man sitting on the edge of the deck, legs swinging, barely caring if he fell.

Another empty bottle joined the group on the left. Another left the group on the right.

"This one's for you, Teddy."

The man tossed a bottle down onto the pier below, laughing as some guards jumped at the noise of the bottle breaking. He lazily got up and threw on a coat, then headed for the bridge.

The coat's insignia was that of a Staff Sergeant's.

Author's Note

...and that concludes day one! Thank you everyone who's been reading so far.
However, I am temporarily changing the update schedule to one chapter every two weeks. I've been having health complications recently and am facing some pressure at work. However, the regular update schedule will be restored after five weeks, so don't worry! I'll also hopefully write some extra chapters to serve as buffer for those weeks when I feel like writing less.

As always, don't forget to provide feedback if you feel like something could be improved, and have a great day/night.

Chapter 6/USA: Consequences

Commanders look at the full picture, the grand scale, the final goal. Every movement and sacrifice has meaning and they know it.
Captains look at the faces of friends and comrades. Every movement and sacrifice has meaning and they know it.

Manehatten Bay. August 6th, 2045. 11:04 PM

With a relieved sigh, Jameson signed off the memo he and a team of officers had written to the entire ship; what they knew about their situation and the ponies.

He put on his officers' beret and hobbled out of the conference room to be greeted by the concerned faces of Lee and a paramilitary member.

"Lieutenant Colonel," Lee saluted, "this is our dedicated missile specialist."

Jameson raised an eyebrow. "Missile specialist? We don't have any missiles onboard."

"That's what I came to talk to you about. He has something to show us."

Following the duo back down the elevator to the vehicle bay, which was still busy even at this time in the night, Jameson was led to a large corrugated metal gate welded into the wall opposite the currently closed ramp leading outwards. A single, bored Ranger hopped to attention and opened a small door set next to the gate when the group approached him.

They shuffled into a dark room, purged of all light when the Ranger shut the door behind them. Jameson heard some cursing as Lee fumbled around before a bright flash illuminated the room.

A single spotlight shone down on a Tomahawk missile launcher, stuffed into the cramped vehicle compartment.

"A... Tomahawk launcher?"

"Not just any Tomahawk launcher," croaked the missile specialist. His voice was hoarse, and in the stark lighting Jameson could now see his greying hair and stiff posture. "This is a Tomahawk launcher equipped with the most powerful cold warhead to be placed on a missile. It's capable of razing the entirety of Chongqing. "

Jameson felt his blood run cold. For who knows how long, they had been fighting, working, sleeping, breathing in a ship carrying a weapon capable of unimaginable destruction and death. A million questions filled his mind, but only one got out.

"How?"

"The Chinese... they gifted three of these to the American Navy. Only the highest military echelon, the Admirals of each ship, and a few trusted paramilitary personnel know of their existence," explained the missile specialist.

"Why did they put it on the USS Discord?"

The specialist gave a short laugh, almost a giggle. "What do you think they expected us to do if we found a large enemy force at the Objective? Throw fighter jets at it? And... I don't know exactly what they planned to do with the warhead, but I suspect it was meant as a show of force more than anything."

The room fell silent as the three men stared at the sleek, white missile.

Jameson finally found some words. "Who else knows? On this ship, I mean."

"The three guards, who aren't actually Rangers but in fact SEALs, the two Tomahawk operators, me, Lieutenant Commander Lee, and you. I suspect Captain Hunt knows, too, however."

"Alright... alright..." Jameson considered his options, staring at the Tomahawk. "How long would it take to launch it?"

"Depends on if we're docked or not. If we are, the Tomahawk can be deployed outside and ready to fire in two minutes of an order being given, sir. Otherwise it could take up to five."

"Right... keep it secret for now. And make sure it's well protected- we don't want any GLA or [REDACTED] spies getting in here. Lieutenant Commander Lee, you handle that."

"Yes, sir!" Both men saluted, and the trio left the room.

Lieutenant Colonel Jameson leaned against the wall outside, watching Lee and the specialist weave off through the crowded vehicle bay to do... whatever they did. He felt a tap on his left shoulder and looked surprisedly into the concerned face of the SEAL guard next to him. The SEAL looked young for a supposed member of an elite branch of the army.

"I don't mean any disrespect, sir, but you look like shit."

He gave the SEAL a weary smile. "Yeah, haven't had the chance to sleep. In fact, I may just hit the sack now, until the next disaster strikes. Thank you, young man."

"Happy to help, sir."

"Lieutenant Colonel? Sir? We have a situation."

Jameson groaned, rubbing the grit out of his eyes as he attempted to swing out of bed. He remembered, too late, the lack of his leg, and tumbled onto the hard metal floor.

"Are you alright, sir?"

He fumbled around the dark, tiny quarters for his walking stick, yelling, "Come in!"

The heavy metal door swung open outwards, revealing a brown-uniformed flight deck captain. Jameson stood up unsteadily and nodded in response to the captain's salute.

"Sir, Lieutenant Commander Lee sent me. We have a situation down at the jetty."

"What is it?"

"Pony journalists, sir."

Dammit, always the journalists.

"Inform the Lieutenant Commander that I'll be there in three. Oh, and ask him to get whoever's in charge of security."

"Yes, sir!"

Jameson shut the door to get dressed.

Exactly two minutes and fifty seconds later, he strolled- well, hobbled- down the jetty from the still-open vehicle ramp, squinting at the sun rising over the Manehatten buildings. A team of American and Equestrian engineers were putting up a chain-link fence at the end of the jetty, while their respective security forces watched suspiciously.

The miniature 'border' currently consisted of a line of a dozen heavily armed Rangers facing an equally long line of Royal Guards. Above, a Little Bird matched speed with a pair of pegasi circling the carrier. With a sigh, Jameson mentally noted to remind Captain Emma of their currently limited fuel.

Passing the Royal Guards without being stopped into the small Equestrian military base, he spotted Lee with two uniformed SEALs and a naval officer. They were clustered near the base's gate, speaking to a Royal Guard, a Nightguard- Commander Gleaming Fangs- and a uniformed pegasus who Jameson recognised as New Horizons.

Outside the gate was a crowd of ponies: photographers, journalists, and curious bystanders. The fact that the base was situated directly next to a popular park didn't help in controlling the size of said crowd. Jameson had to blink away sudden bright flashes from the handheld cameras of the pony photographers.

As he approached the group, he realised that the Royal Guard and Nightguard were having a heated argument. The Nightguard Commander was smiling victoriously at the fuming Royal Guard.

"It's completely improper! We brought in 15 of them from all over Equestria. 15, in three hours, and you toss them all out for a Coast Guard Private? No offense to you, New Horizons."

"We've been over this already. Direct orders of the Princesses. Who are we to question their wisdom? Are you perhaps having... treasonous thoughts?"

Without waiting for an answer, Commander Gleaming Fangs bid the group farewall and strolled dramatically out the base, using his wings to make a high leap over the fence. Two Nightguards appeared seemingly out of nowhere to escort him through the swarm of eager journalists and flashing cameras.

"Hm, I didn't know Equestria worked with the GLA." Jameson commented to the group, who were turned away, as he approached them. The Americans gave him crisp, firm salutes, New Horizons raised her hoof in greeting while the Royal Guard shook hands- hooves- hand-and-hoof- with him. Jameson motioned helplessly to the walking stick occupying his hand.

"This is- Oh, you're the Lieutenant Colonel, right?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Good to meet you. I was just speaking with your officers about your... official ambassador. This is Ambassador New Horizons. She'll handle official communication between Equestria and the United States of America, organise the access civilians have, and answer any questions you may have about ponies or pony life."

Jameson eyed the pegasus critically, who was currently fidgeting with the tight collar of her uniform, which was remarkably similar to a suit and tie. "Well, thank you for giving us an Ambassador. I don't mean to sound rude or ungrateful, but I've met Ambassador New Horizons before, and I don't see why she was chosen or even considered. Not because of her skills, ofcourse, but because of her position and status as a.... Coast Guard member."

The Royal Guard shifted uncomfortably. "Normally the Royal Guard would pick an Ambassador, but ever since the- well, there was a minor dispute between the Royal Guard and the Nightguard about who should be Ambassador. The Princesses intervened and selected one personally."

Fantastic, we're relying on a randomly chosen pony to guide in an entirely unknown world.

"Ya, ah'm still a bit confused myself, but I'll do ma best, sir!" stated New Horizons proudly, pulling herself up to full height with a salute and huge smile.

"Right, thank you." Jameson glanced at Lee to try to gauge what he thought of all this, but he just stared back impassively.

Now that the conversation had died down, the Royal Guard excused himself to talk to an Equestrian soldier, leaving only the Americans with New Horizons.

Jameson suddenly remembered why he had come down to the base in the first place. "Ah, yeah, Lieutenant Commander Lee. You sent someone to fetch me?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel," he started, glancing uncertainly at New Horizons before leaning in and whispering to Jameson. "This is our chance to make a good impression on the Equestrian citizens. If we don't do anything about the journalists, all they'll report will be a strange warship bearing unknown creatures arriving in Manehatten. The Equestrians will, most likely, react with fear and panic."

Jameson nodded, thinking carefully. They needed to speak to the journalists, but without offending them- ah, of course, that was what the Ambassador was for.

"Ambassador New Horizons. Do you know how we can introduce ourselves to the pony journalists with our currently limited knowledge of your culture and such?"

"Ooooh, ma first challenge! Well, ah'm not entirely sure, but ya could give a speech or- aha! I'll arrange a Q&A session with the journalists. What do ya think, sir?"

The Lieutenant Colonel nodded approvingly. This way they could put any of the ponies' fears or concerns to rest without having to make any concrete statements before they could collect more information.

"Right then, ah'll gather some of the troops and organise the 'ole thing. You can relax and think about what yer gonna say till then."

"That sounds great. Thanks, Ambassador."

"No problem, sir. See ya."

"Right then, Lieutenant Commander Lee," Jameson said, turning to Lee, "did you get my message? To fetch whoever's in charge of security?"

"I did, sir." Lee nodded to the navy officer and one of the SEALs who saluted and marched off back to the carrier. Lee motioned to the remaining SEAL, a Corporal. "This is the Delta Force Captain, and de facto head of security."

The 'Corporal' in question saluted Jameson, the sniper rifle and assault rifle on his back clinking together.

"I take it you aren't a SEAL Corporal, then?"

"No, Lieutenant Colonel. I try to keep my identity discreet." The Delta Captain spoke quietly, but Jameson could make out a faint Korean or Chinese accent. "Not many people check the entire ship duty list."

"I.... see? Well, can you give me a briefing on the state of security right now? Taking into account what we know about the abilities of the ponies."

The Captain answered with barely a second of thought, "I would say it's stable at the moment. While we don't have any forces on the jetty on the other side of the carrier, I have Rangers stationed along the edge of the ship to watch for approaching ponies, from the sky or the land. Originally we planned to have a couple of rubber boats patrol the bay, but we didn't want to worry the Equestrian Navy. That machine-" he pointed skywards at the Little Bird, which was currently hovering in the air confusedly while two pegasi did loops around it- "was not deployed by my orders. Unless the ponies have some sort of stealth magic, no one will be able to sneak past."

"Got it, good job so far, Cap'. What's the plan if we're openly attacked?"

"The vehicle bay and aircraft on deck are on standby to deploy within half a minute. If the Equestrian military engages us, we'll deploy fighters which should be able to hold off any pegasi with ease. A large team of infantry, Humvees, and the Crusader will deploy and hold the base while we ready the ship to leave. However, if the attacking force is not sided with Equestria, we'll hold our ground until pony reinforcments arrive."

Jameson nodded approvingly, "Great plan, couldn't have done it better myself. Anything else to report?"

"We haven't let any ponies onto the ship except those delivering medical supplies. As for our own personnel, only the security team and high ranking officers have left the ship. Other than that, nothing else, sir."

"Hm... keep up with what you're doing for now. Oh, and make sure none of the soldiers are shooting whenever they get nervous, but... if there's a credible threat from anypony, shoot to kill. Dismissed."

"Yessir," saluted the Captain. "God bless America."

"Right, now about the Q&A thing..."

Jameson stood awkwardly in front of a too-short podium just outside the base gate, facing a standing crowd of journalists and curious ponies. He was flanked by two Rangers, Ambassador New Horizons, and Lieutenant Commander Lee. Behind him was a large American banner on a pole, hastily added as an afterthought. With the eyes of hundreds of ponies on him, he was horribly aware of his quickly thrown-on officers' uniform and coat and crippled appearance.

Receiving a signal from a Royal Guard stationed down the street that the crowd had been fully diverted to the podium area, New Horizons stepped up to the podium, clearing her throat. Silence fell among the crowd.

"Ponies of Manehatten!" New Horizon shouted dramatically in the microphone. Jameson only now noticed an image branded on her left flank: it showed a faint white shape, indiscernible from this distance, floating in the sky above a horizon with a strong red glow. He recognised that as a 'cutie mark', which all adult ponies had.

"I'm sure y'all are confused, or even afraid. But there's no need to be. Standing with me are four humans from another land or possibly even another dimension. They're all soldiers from the nation of the United States of 'merica. The strange-looking ship behind ya contains a thousand more American soldiers. It was mysteriously teleported near here during a military exercise. It is a fearsome weapon of war and destruction... But, rest assured, they come here with peaceful intentions an' are looking forward to working together with the Royal Government. Lieutenant Colonel Jameson, leader of the USS Discord, will now answer your questions."

As New Horizons spoke, the crowd got increasingly louder with hushed murmurs and journalists furiously scribbling on notepads. Jameson stepped up to the podium, drawing in a large breath. He waited expectantly for questions, but realised the ponies thought he was going to say something.

"You can ask questions now, please."

The murmurs died down as one, young-looking earthpony with saddlebags full of rolled-up newspapers slowly raised his front hoof. Jameson motioned to him to go ahead.

"Uhh... what's the uhhh... the loud flying thing above your ship, sir?" asked the young earthpony.

Jameson didn't even have to look where the earthpony's hoof was pointing to know he was referring to the Little Bird.

"That's a machine called a 'helicopter'. There's only one species of humans, and we can't fly, so we developed tools over time to help us, like the helicopter there. It's not as fast or agile as a pegasus, but it can carry about half a dozen people."

The earthpony nodded, slightly confused but satisifed. Other ponies, like suited journalists, began raising their hoofs too to ask questions. Jameson motioned to a random unicorn near the front.

"Sir, head National Affairs reporter for the Mane Event. Would you say that your weapons and machines of war are capable of competing with pony technology and magic?"

"I don't have much information at this time, but yes, I believe that our weapons are superior to that of Equestria. However, we have no intention of using them."

And so it went on for half an hour. Jameson mostly received short questions, with many regarding human technology or expressing fear over their military capability. He was satisifed that it was going well, however, until he chose a disheveled, unclothed earthpony at the edge of the crowd to ask a question.

"Are yer men gonna take our jobs? There's no room for you here, y'know!" the pony shouted, swaying on his hooves. Jameson wondered if the ponies had alcohol, because he was clearly behaving like a human drunk would.

Jameson was beginning to regret their decision to hold the session so soon after dawn. He struggled to think of a response that would dismiss the drunk without seeming rude, before what seemed to be an incredible idea popped into his head.

"Absolutely not. In fact, in our effort to make strong bonds with Equestria, we're going to be hiring at least 40 ponies to help out on the ship and in the base, starting tomorrow!"

He was shoved ceremoniously out of the way by New Horizons.

"All right folks, Ah think that's all we have time for today! If ya have any further questions, please address a letter to me, here at the Manehatten Park Fort. Thank ya for coming, and have a good day."

The crowd slowly and uncertainly dispersed with some minor grumbling, the photographers stopping to take some last photos.

Returning into the base, New Horizons rounded on Jameson. "Sir, Ah'm gonna have to respectfully say: What the hell were ya thinking with that last part?"

"What? This helps with both improving relations with the public and mitigating our sudden shortage of personnel," Jameson replied confusedly.

Lee spoke up. "Sir, I think the Ambassador has a point. This will require a lot of paperwork and organisation to set up, and we'll need money and supplies to hire the ponies, not to mention the security threat they pose. We haven't even asked the Royal Guard about this yet!"

Jameson stared at the ground, thinking carefully. Now that he took the time to consider all this, it did seem like a rash move. "We can't just abandon it now, though. Lee, I'm sorry about this, but I trust you to get it done. If this works it'll be worth the effort. Got it?"

"Yes. Sir."

"Great, thank you. If you'll excuse me"- he glanced at one of the Rangers, a Gamma squad member- "I have someone to speak to."

"Sir."

Jameson turned back to look at Sergeant Richard, who had led him to the mess hall where they had finally found Staff Sergeant Henry. "What is it?"

"Henry isn't himself, sir. I've known him for a lot less time than you, but what happened before the Big Flash-"

"Don't worry. I know Henry. I just have to put him in his place for not showing up earlier and neglecting his duties. You can leave."

Without waiting for a reply, Jameson made it to the corner of the mostly empty mess hall. Sitting at the table, turned away, was Henry.

"Hey, man."

"Leave," spat Henry.

Jameson was taken aback by the pure loathing and hate put into that single word.

"What the hell's gotten into you? Stand up and talk to me."

Henry threw back his bench, hitting Jameson's leg and causing him to topple over backwards onto the table. In a second, Henry was on him, delivering punch after punch into his face.

"Sir!"

Jameson opened his eyes to see Henry's arms being held by Sergeant Richard and a navy crewmember. Henry sobbed as he tried half-heartedly to free his arms, shouting, "DON'T YOU CARE, CAPTAIN? COULDN'T YOU TAKE A SECOND FROM YOUR BRAND NEW JOB TO PAY YOUR RESPECTS? WE BLED AND WE FOUGHT AND NOW WE'LL DIE FOR YOU, AND THIS IS HOW LITTLE WE'RE VALUED?"

He stared back at Henry in utter confusion, mind running through the possibilities of what Henry was going on about. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but just calm down and explain."

Henry stopped struggling. "Alright, alright... let me go, I'm chill now."

Sergeant Richard looked to Jameson, who nodded, and released Henry. He helped Jameson back up to his feet.

"Jeez, I tried to fight a guy with two limbs and still lost, eh?" joked Henry. No one laughed. "Alright, Lieutenant Colonel, you want to know what's gotten into me? Take a guess. Who have you not seen since the fight with the Russians? You were always a good guesser, yeah?"

Jameson's eyes widened in shock as he slowly realised what Henry was talking about. "It can't be."

"So you never did bother to check. Well, I'll spill it. Sergeant Teddy died yesterday morning."

"..."

"Do you remember?"

"Yes."

Southern Poland. 7th June, 2045. 8:05 PM

"Roger, Little Birds leaving the nest," Captain Jameson's radio crackled. He fumbled for the BROADCAST button, ducking to avoid the debris from a nearby explosion.

"Bird-1, Bird-1. What's your ETA? Over."

The reply was drowned out by another explosion, much closer this time. Jameson peeked over the smashed wall of the ruined house they were taking cover in, to see one of their Crusader tanks in the street beyond doused by corrosive chemicals from a tractor. He winced as the occupants were shot through the new holes by GLA fighters.

"Bird-1, repeat message, over."

"ETA is 3 minutes now. How many are we taking? Over."

"By the looks of it, Bird-1, about a dozen. Over."

"Jesus, you guys had it rough. Don't worry, these things have enough rocket pods to destroy a Blackbear. Over."

"Really? Over."

"No, that was hyperbole. Keep the channel quiet now, over."

Staff Sergeant Henry approached Jameson, handing him a water canteen. "How is it outside?"

"See for yourself. Just lost another Crusader."

"Ouch. Still have the Paladins though. When are the Little Birds coming?"

"They sho-" Jameson was interrupted by the buzz of rotors and looked up to the sky to see five Little Birds approaching quickly. "They're here. Get everyone ready to go, abandon the tanks."

"You got it, Cap'. Should we fetch the corpses- GRENADE."

Jameson lifted his arm reflexively as he rolled over and curled up to avoid a small, metal object that had rolled quietly over the wall.

Pain, and the sound of rotors.

Chapter 7/GLA: A Nice Gentle Walk

Author's Note

This one's a bit short, but don't worry! The weekly update schedule is back on now that I have more free time.

As always, feel free to give me feedback or criticism.

Chapter 7/GLA: A Nice Gentle Walk

We are the vanguard, the unwavering voice of the oppressed, for we believe in a future where justice and freedom prevail, no matter the odds. Never retreating, never fleeing, fighting till all hope is lost for freedom.

???. August 7th, 2045. ???

"Time, Private?"

The Private grimaced as he fumbled for a watch from his Russian uniform pocket, covered in flakes of ice and snow. "Nearly... 4:58 AM."

???. August 7th, 2045. 4:58 AM

"Right, then, enough resting. "

The group of 23 soldiers was huddled in a line below a snowdrift, dangerously close to the ledge of a snow-coated cliff. Captain Linton squinted at the sky, making out the early light of dawn. From the distance, they could hear occasional shouting and arguing between the creatures chasing them.

"Yaks will find you!"

"Yes, Ender will be the first! Ender is best!"

"No, Horlando is best. Horlando will find invaders."

"Ender is yak. Ender is best."

"Horlando is also yak!"

"Oh. Yaks are best!"

"Yaks best!"

The arguing broke down into various cries affirming that yaks were, indeed, the best. The Captain tried to ignore the shouting, and shuffled closer to Sergeant Ahmed Woods. He was incredibly grateful for their winter gear.

"Gather round, men. We can't stay here forever. Those... yaks... will locate us eventually. We've got to make a break for it. Hopefully we can make our way to the town we spotted from the plane before we had to land and ditch it."

"That's the issue. They'll outrun us- and this time we don't have a chemical bomb to distract them," contributed Pilot Pavlov, who was slotted between two GLA soldiers watching him carefully, rifles ready.

"Pilot, keep your mouth shut, or we'll finish what the Sergeant should have completed on the plane."

"I'm just stating the obvious, terrorist." Pavlov stood up suddenly. "I'm going to talk to them. If they're sentient, surely I ca-"

He was pulled down by one of the GLA soldiers, a Corporal. "You do that, and they'll find all of us. Sit down and listen to the Captain, Ivan."

With a protesting hmph, Pavlov sat back down again and stared pointedly at Captain Linton. He, in turn, stared at the sky, twirling a coin in his fingers as he considered the situation. What the Pilot had said interested him. While they didn't have any chemical bombs, they still had half a dozen packs of conventional ones.

Perhaps they could set one of the bombs off and make a run for it while the yaks investigated? No, he thought, glancing back at the unstable snow drift behind him. We can't risk an avalanche, especially so close to the cliff. It could knock someone- or all of us- down with it.

The entire group was looking at the Captain expectantly, waiting for some genius solution. What he came up with pained him, but it was the only way they could get out with little-to-no risk.

"I need a volunteer," he stated loudly. About half the soldiers raised one of their hands.

"For a suicide mission."

Every hand went down except one, the middle-aged soldier sitting closest to the Captain. He tried to put his down too when he realised no one else was volunteering, but it was too late. Captain Linton grabbed his arm, smiling forcibly.

"Thank you for your service, Private Arshad Waqas. You will be armed with an assault rifle, a pocket bomb, and a detonator. Keep whatever else you have on you in case you survive."

"Yes- yes, sir!"

"Good man. Listen closely, here's the plan. Private Arshad will charge northeastwards, catching the attention of the yaks. Meanwhile, the rest of us run west, down the mountain." He pointed to a distant glimmer of light from halfway down a relatively close peak. "That should be the town we saw from the air. Follow my lead, and watch the Sergeants- they know how to traverse mountains.

"What about the hostage, brother?" asked Sergeant Ahmed Woods, the third-in-command of their group.

"There is no need to watch Pilot Pavlov after the first few minutes. Where would he go? He can either stay with us or perish in the cold."

"I see."

"Any further questions?"

Receiving only silence, Captain Linton nodded to Private Arshad. He darted off above the snowdrift, into the snowstorm that was just beginning to form.

Barely a minute later, a burst of gunfire rang out from the distance. Their signal to run.

As the large squad hastily stumbled and skidded down the steep hillside, the now panicked- or excited- yak shouting faded away, and the snowstorm closed in on them until they were being with wet snow from all sides.

Within half an hour, Captain Linton was unable to see the light of the town because of the snowstorm, and had to rely on his compass and general sense of direction. The slowly increasing sunlight was of no help to them. On the bright side, it seemed they had completely lost the strange yaks.

Noticing the soldiers beginning to slow down, the Captain called for a rest.

The group ate their rations in silence, Pilot Pavlov turning down offers of food. However, he eventually caved in and helped himself to a packet of cashews. They finished, and continued the trek.

The ground under their feet began to level off as the snowstorm lessened in intensity. Captain Linton noticed the snow beneath them was firmer, their feet not sinking as much, and bent down to wipe some of it aside, revealing cobbled stone laid down on the ground.

"I think we're walking on some sort of crude stone road," he shouted aloud so those who were lagging behind could hear. The squad clustered around him, with the rookies being visibly relieved to have found some sort of civilisation.

Sergeant Woods commented, "We've probably reached the valley between the two mountain peaks."

"It seems so. We'll try to stay on the road going-"

"Hey!" shouted one of the rookies, some distance away. "Has anyone seen Private Roderigo?"

Most of the soldiers gave various mumbles indicating that they had not. Captain Linton looked around worriedly, not seeing the young, Spanish Private.

"I remember eating with him the last time we stopped to rest," commented another rookie.

"That was nearly two hours ago. Does anyone remember seeing him since then?" Linton stood up and beckoned the group to gather closer, mentally checking that everyone else was still with them.

"No, sir. He was there when we left our camp though."

"He must have gotten lost in the snowstorm then. Leave him; if he is not dead, he will be able to see the village when the snowstorm clears. We will have to meet him there instead of following the road."

He carried on walking slowly along the road, stopping when he noticed only the two Sergeants were following him. The rest of the soldiers simply stared at Linton.

Low morale has finally caught up with us.

Captain Linton pumped his fist into the air and shouted, "Why do we fight?"

One of the soldiers replied reluctantly, "For freedom and justice!"

"And why did you join the GLA?"

"Because the GLA will fights for freedom and justice!" replied another soldier, more enthusiastically.

"And so, who do we fight for?"

"FOR THE GLA!" cried the entire gathering, except for Pavlov, each soldier waving their rifles in the air.

The fanatics are so easy to get riled up. No wonder the GLA almost took Europe once.

"Onwards! For the GLA and for humanity!" he marched ahead, down the road, and sighed in relief quietly when he heard the rebels following.

With the firm road now under their feet, the squad made good progress trudging through the ankle-deep snow, but Linton was still entirely unsure where they were going. As the hours dragged on, and the snowstorm faded to light flurry, he could make out a black line running along a hill in the distance. To the right and left were towering mountains, enclosing them in a U-shaped valley.

With the daytime, the light from the village had disappeared from view. Captain Linton hoped this was because of daylight rather than them being off-track.

As the tension and worry of the situation wore off, most of the rebels began chatting as they walked; their topics ranged from serious to casual banter. Linton was able to overhear most of it, partly because of the absolute silence permeating through the snowy landscape.

His two Sergeants were discussing their possible location in hushed tones:

"We cannot have gone from the Antarctic to a grassland so quickly. And there are certainly no mountains like this there. Or yak-creatures."

"What were the Russians looking for, though? Maybe it's some sort of, like, grassy oasis or something with aliens," replied Sergeant Ali in his usual laid back, disinterested tone.

"I am sure the Pilot knows," Woods glanced back at Pavlov, who was trudging along silently, staring straight ahead.

Pilot Pavlov had been the only non-GLA member on the plane to survive the flight, since they had lost control and had to bail before they had disposed of him. Captain Linton had considered several times over the previous day, while they were running from the yaks, whether to get rid of the Pilot. He had eventually decided to keep Pavlov around in case they came across the Russians.

"If they told Pavlov, why didn't they tell Linton anything?"

"I think... Russian command was not certain themselves what they were looking for. Then there was the strange white flash..."

"Whatever then. How's our, like, supplies looking?"

Captain Linton turned his attention to a conversation between a trio of rookies as his Sergeants switched to a more mundane topic.

"...our deaths," whispered a Private, trying in vain to stay silent. There was a soft thud. "Ow.."

"Don't talk like that, rookie. The Captain knows what he's doing- he may seem eccentric or strange but he's not one to throw lives away."

"Tell that to Arshad. And anyways, you've only been deployed with him once," commented a third voice who Linton recognised as their sniper.

"For half a year in southern Poland. You two are lucky to have joined us right before the Russians invaded. All you had to do was fight some half-dead Americans and put on a Russian uniform."

"My brother was in the other team," said the rookie suddenly.

The other team. It had been comprised of fifteen rebels and ten mercenaries, ready to hijack the Russian plane full of food and other supplies. The cargo plane had been shot down and presumably destroyed by American forces before the Flash.

Linton glanced back to see the sniper awkwardly patting the rookie on the back. The veteran Private, Aleksandar just sighed.

"That's war for you. They all knew what they signed up for."

"For freedom and justice?"

No one replied, as a quiet rumbling sound from afar began to louden. Captain Linton rushed up the nearest snow hill to see a plume of white smoke steadily approaching from the distance.

Northeastern Crystal Empire. August 7th, 2045. 10:38 AM

A train rumbled along the half-frozen tracks, weaving between and climbing low, snow-ridden hills in a valley between two mountain ranges. There would have been a river running here if the temperature wasn't so low.

Communications Officer Talcite Volcano, a crystal pony, lay on the sofa-bench, staring idly out the window. Across from her, the two Intelligence and Medical officers sat casually on the bench in their tight compartment, chatting about the news from Canterlot. Talcite knew she should have been excited or afraid about the arrival of an entirely new, unknown species with advanced technology to Equus, but really she felt entirely indifferent.

There was a knock on the door, which the Intelligence Officer- a pink-furred unicorn mare- got up to slide open. She spoke briefly to someone before calling back to the two other passengers, "Med, Comms, you guys want anything from the snacks cart?"

The Medical Officer perked up, his eyes hopeful. "Is Command paying?"

"Nope, not an official expenditure."

"Aw, then I'll pass."

"What about you, Comms?"

Talcite rolled over lazily. In each Spec Ops mission, every member of the team was randomly picked. They used codenames when speaking to each other since they were forbidden from knowing each others' real names. The other half of the squad- Alpha, S-1, S-2, and Engine- was in the next compartment over.

"Didn't Command arrange us a dinner in the dining carriage?"

"That's in three hours. You really want to wait that long? C'mon, buy a hayburger or something."

"Fine then. Get one for Med too, Intel."

As Med happily dug into the hayburger, Talcite sat up and carried on looking out the window at the impressive line of mountains, idly taking a bite of her burger. She caught Intel's eyes in the reflection. Intel smiled back awkwardly.

"So... Comms, you're not much of a speaker, eh? Isn't that your whole job?"

"My job is to get information across as efficiently as possible. I do my job."

"Oh, um... that's great!"

Awkward silence fell again for a few moments before Talcite tried to start up the conversation again.

"So, how many missions have you been on so far? I've finished three and it's a total breeze. The only time I actually had to heal someone was when-"

Talcite glanced out of the window for a moment, then whipped her head around again. She thought for a second that she had seen a white blur darting across the snow towards the train, but there was nothing there now. It had been too big to be a smaller animal like a snow hare, and the desolate North of the Crystal Empire was largely uninhabited anyways.

"Comms? You alright?" Med was staring at her concernedly.

"Oh, yeah. Just thought I saw something."

Med's expression became more serious. "Do you need to inform Alpha?"

"No, it was nothing."

She settled back and closed her eyes, having given her hayburger to Intel, and tried to put the incident out of her mind. After all, she didn't want to call a false alarm on her very first mission.

Not yet...

Private Arshad lay on a hill overlooking a small village, full of yak-like creatures going about their daily business. It was eerily similar to his own village-

Don't think about it.

He clutched a remote with a large, red button on the top firmly in his hands, watching as the yak search party looking for him approached the village.

Not yet...

They trotted down the main village path amidst a crowd of curious villa- yaks. Another yak approached them slowly, covered in various beads and colourful clothing. Arshad guessed that he was important to the yaks.

The search party and the yak elder met in the very middle of the village. Arshad smirked, and pressed his thumb into the red button.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it again, and still nothing. "What the hell?" he whispered to himself, picking up his rifle and aiming at the yak elder.

"Yak find you."

Arshad rolled around quickly in horror, raising the rifle, but was stopped by a heavy hoof smashing into his forehead.

Chapter 8/Russia: May Be Your

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Interlude: The Darkest Year

Why, hello there.

Western Punjab, British India. August 6th, 1944. 10:05 PM

The British officer accepted a cup of tea from an Indian servant with a smile and a nod. The servant, bowing exiting through the doors of the comfortable and cosy lounge. The officer carefully tipped a teaspoon of sugar into the cup, and began to stir.

"Thanks for coming," began his American counterpart, sitting across from him. The American had declined the offer of tea and was instead attempting to light a cigar.

"Ah, it's the least I can do. Let's skip the formalities. What's gotten you all shook up?" The British officer took a sip of the hot tea.

The American gave a short, forced laugh. "I wouldn't say 'shook up', just wanted to share something... interesting that I came across today." He paused, continuing when the British officer nodded at him to go on. "So I was down at the market, trying to spend my hard-earned paycheck-"

"Sitting around the American embassy is 'hard work' now?"

The American officer grinned at him. "I do get a bonus for being abroad in what is technically a warzone. No taxes, either."

"Ah, a dream for you Americans. Carry on."

"Mhm. So I came across this interesting stall- more of a wooden box, really, with two small gaps for seeing outside- and a woman asked in perfect English whether I wanted to have my fortune read- she had the accent and everything."

"Interesting. Perhaps someone who's worked for the government most of their life?"

"Could be. She seemed pretty old, judging from the voice. Normally I don't trust this sort of thing, I'm a man of God and of science, but she offered to do it for free."

"You agreed?"

"Didn't have anything better to do. So I offered her my hand, she just looked at it through the box for a while, and then suddenly proclaimed that she had a 'message' for me."

"Oh, I do love a good prophecy."

"No, no, I mean a message." The American motioned to a slightly crumpled letter laying on the table. "Handed me a plain envelope with this letter and a photo."

The British officer's face grew serious. "A spy reporting back?"

"No. Read it."

"Are you sure I'm allowed to do that?"

"Fairly sure. At the very least American intelligence has nothing to do with this."

The officer picked up the letter. The paper felt slightly odd- smoother and crisper than what he was used to. The whole page was occupied by a carefully calligraphed statement.

Time and time again our worlds are shaken by war. Angels and devils move their pieces, playing a thousand matches against a thousand opponents.

There must be someone to protect the pawns and the king- to give up everything for their people and their leader. For that purpose, We created the six of the Court of the King.

The Six rise time and time again in the darkest hours of the worlds. They serve to maintain harmony and protect against the forces of evil- evil that originates from all sides.

The Six do not always succeed.

But they always come back. And so they shall return, on this day, in the 45th year of the century. Do not give up hope, even when all seems lost, when creatures have lost their heads and your world burns.

The Six will return.

The British officer gave a confused laugh. The letter was too dramatic to have been written seriously.

"Don't mind this nonsense. It's a beautiful piece of prose though, don't you think?"

And yet, he felt a small spark of uncertainty inside. He could see it in his American friend's eyes.

"As you would say, I'm afraid we can't immediately discard this information."

"Why not? You received something from another source?" guessed the officer.

"Sort of. I had a... dream last night." The American officer gave another, half-insane laugh. "There was a purple... horse, standing in front of me. About my height. It was wearing a crown and a chestplate with a crescent on it. And it told me the exact same thing in the letter."

There was silence in the room for a few moments, as the British officer set down his teacup delicately.

"You're sure of it?"

"Completely. It makes sense, too. The world is in peril and darkness. Despite our advances into France and Italy, and that of the Soviets into Poland, the war is far from over. Who knows how long the Nazi party will continue to hold sway over Germany, and how much farther Japan will advance into Asia?" His eyes gleamed with hope and promises of victory. "These 'Six' will end the war. I'm sure of it."

"If so... what do we do about it? Why did that woman give you the paper?"

The American officer stared at him as if he had gone mad. "Isn't it obvious? We will aid the Six and end the war!"

Proiciamus Primus HQ, Confidential. August 6th, 1945. 9:00 AM

"What have you done?"

The British officer aimed a pistol at his former American friend. The American simply laughed in response, making no effort to protect himself. Each of the dozen soldiers in the bare, white room had their rifles and pistols aimed at each other, unsure who to side with.

"So you've heard the news? I've ended the war! Or, at least, I'll end it in three days."

"You've killed hundreds of thousands civilians," responded the British officer in disbelief.

"The Japanese? They sided with evil. I will cleanse the evil."

"Why? WHY? We were supposed to wait for the Six!"

The American officer stood up and walked slowly over to the British officer, ignoring the pistol aimed at his head. He stopped right in front of it, pistol almost directly touching his forehead.

"Don't you get it? I'm one of the Six."

"You're insane," breathed out the British officer.

"Here's my prophecy. The world will know the name of Lieutenant Colonel Jameso-"

BANG

The Lieutenant Colonel's face appeared to explode, spraying blood directly into the British officer's face. He fell backwards. Dead. The British officer realised with horror that he had been the one to pull the trigger.

The white floor was stained red.

Did that shock you?

A Train, ???. August 7th, 2045. 10:53 AM

"So... when exactly did your men infiltrate the Russian army?"

Captain Linton glanced at the two pony guards sitting across from them. They wore red uniforms reminiscent of old British Redcoats, with swords sheathed at their sides. He wasn't sure how they could be used effectively in such a confined space, but he didn't want to risk it. Another pony passed by the window set in the compartment door.

He had expected the ponies to threaten them into silence like they had before, but instead just glanced curiously at Pilot Pavlov.

Captain Linton nodded to Sergeant Ali. "Tell him." He didn't see any reason to keep the information from Pavlov.

Sergeant Ali didn't seem surprised by this decision. "So we were like, chilling in Poland..."

Southern Poland. 7th June, 8:13 AM

Captain Linton pointed at the black dots fading into the distance. "Looks like the Americans have retreated. Sergeant Ali, have you found the Major yet?"

"Not yet, Cap'. But digging through this rubble is, like, really meditative and all that jazz," Ali replied. He and a dozen men were trying to find the Major- or his corpse- inside a collapsed building. Captain Linton looked down the once picturesque street, now more reminiscent of the warzone that it was.

His radio buzzed with a short message. "Russians approaching. Full unit."

Captain Linton gave a small Hmph. They would have to proceed without the Major- meaning Captain Linton was now in charge.

"Infiltration unit, get ready! Support squad, use the Humvees to get Safehouse Charlie!" he shouted as he jogged down the street to one of the technicals and popped open a crate in the back of the truck. Inside were several Russian uniforms. Captain Linton picked up an officers' uniform and headed inside the nearby half-collapsed building.

He dressed quickly before returning to the technical to grab a Russian rifle and officers' beret. By now, most of the infiltration unit had grabbed their equipment and were now rubbing dirt and grime on their Russian uniforms. The GLA uniforms were kept back in the technical which, at Captain Linton's signal, drove off to join the Humvees speeding down the road to the south.

A few moments after the technical disappeared around the street corner, a Russian Mishka APC drove up from the north end of the street. It paused when the disguised GLA soldiers came into view, before continuing on and coming to a stop right next to where the group of 50 or so soldiers were waiting.

The passenger side door of the APC opened. A young Russian soldier leaned out.

"What are you all doing here? Our unit's responsible for this sector! Who's in charge here?" He spoke in a commanding voice despite the insignia revealing him to be a mere Junior Lieutenant.

Sergeant Vladimir stepped forward, one hand held up in greeting. He was a Russian native who had joined the GLA.

"Lieutenant Vladimir. We were scouting the town when we came across a battle between the GLA and the Americans. We were just searching for our Major- he got crushed by a building." The last part was technically true.

"Got any standing orders?"

"No."

"Did you contact command?"

'Lieutenant' Vladimir hesitated for a second before responding, "They told use to wait for the main advancement."

The passenger conferred with the driver of the APC for a few seconds because beckoning Vladimir over. He was handed a radio receiver.

"Talk to Captain Rujy. He'll clear things with command."

Vladimir glanced at Captain Linton before accepting the radio receiver. He had a short conversation, then handed it back to the passenger of the Mishka.

"We're merging into your unit. Captain Rujy is in charge of us now."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Well then... welcome to the Volki, Lieutenant."

Chapter 10/Russia: Most Honorable

They must hold in their head every person and plan and possibility, and combine it into one glorious execution.

[It's an interesting quote, isn't it? It's from 2045, near the start of the Third World War. A European General was asked how the ECA's military theorists were more valuable than nuclear weaponry, and he responded with a lengthy speech that included this. They say the whole room was in tears by the end of that speech- likely an exaggeration, but it does capture the atmosphere at the time.

Ten days later, that very building was the site of a bloody four-way battle. The ECA lost.]

Warehouse 15, Sector 4, Stalliongrad Industrial Complex. August 7th, 2045. 3:46 AM

"Hatch is closed, get us out!'

Rujy glanced back from the passenger seat at the front of the Mauler. All eight soldiers- the three medics, two infantry, and three VDV soldiers- were securely fastened into the seats lining both sides of the back compartment. Princess Luna had been unceremoniously dumped upright on one of the seats.

The gunner of the Mauler stood in the tiny aisle between the seats, operating a heavy autocannon on top of the Mauler.

There was a tap on the armoured side door of the vehicle. Sliding open the lock, Rujy swung the door open to reveal the Nightguard Corporal. She was breathing heavily, with a small trail of blood lining her side.

"You're injured," commented Rujy, looking around for the Royal Guard unicorn who had healed the medic captain. He was busy fighting off three void ponies at once, hurling pieces of burning debris at them using telekinesis.

The Corporal shook her head. "I'm fine. Just focus on getting the Princess out of here. I'll cover you and provide directions. Move out when I give the signal."

Rujy noticed a black shape sneaking up behind the Corporal. He raised his pistol. "Hey, watch o-"

The Corporal had already noticed the void pony, and spun around to stab it in the neck. It dissipated immediately.

"On my signal." She rushed off to join the rest of the ponies, still ferociously fighting what seemed to be an ever-growing wave of void ponies.

Rujy pulled the door shut. He reached for a handheld speaker wired to the radio set.

"Is this tuned to the command frequency?"

The driver nodded distractedly, his eyes focused on the various camera feeds in front of him, displaying different angles of the vehicle.

Pressing the transmit button, Rujy spoke into the speaker. "This is Alpha. Blue Fang, Mechanic, come in."

Two different voices responded at once- Captain Rolan and Captain Artimey.

"Go ahead, Alpha."

"What the hell are you doing, Rujy? Get back here to safety!"

"Change of plan. We're going through the hole in the wall- which I assume was your doing, Blue Fang?"

"Yes. We moved a team of combat engineers onto the catwalk to plant the bomb- they had to retreat immediately, though. Where do you plan on going, Alpha?"

Captain Artimey's voice was completely calm despite the chaotic shouting and gunfire filtering through the radio.

"A Nightguard safehouse. We're getting Princess Luna there, and in exchange the Nightguards will explain... all of this."

The transmitter was silent.

"Blue Fang? What's your situation?"

"We're still holding. Mechanic's Maulers are definitely helping, but we're unable to push forward."

"Continue holding as long as possible. Load up the wounded and valuables in case you need to retreat. The moment you think you're getting overwhelmed, pull back."

"Roger that, Alpha. Good luck."

"Good luck, Alpha." Rolan added too. Rujy blinked with surprise. Captain Rolan wasn't the kind of person to make such comments, especially not to Rujy.

"Thanks. Alpha, out."

Rujy hooked the speaker back in its slot just in time to be tapped on the shoulder by the driver.

"Lieutenant Colonel, the Nightguard is waving at us. Should we move?"

Rujy glanced at the rear camera feed showing the Nightguard Corporal urgently waving her hoof at the APC. He nodded silently.

The driver carefully shifted the APC through the large hole in the wall. The sides scraped against the edges of the hole, but it made it through.

Outside was a huge asphalt apron with carefully-laid rows of warehouses. There was a large alleyway between each warehouse, giving plenty of room for the Mauler to maneuver. Orange-red light from the fire illuminated a small crowd gathered outside- mostly earthponies and unicorns in orange or green industrial vests- being kept back by a single Royal Guard.

The Nightguard Corporal rushed ahead to speak to the Royal Guard, while the Mauler idled on the asphalt. Rujy watched the crowd carefully through the camera feeds- there were only about two dozen of them, whispering among themselves and staring at the Mauler.

"Gunner, check rear! Fire at will!" shouted the driver suddenly. He was looking at one of the rear camera feeds- it showed a mass of void ponies filtering out through the gap in the wall. The Royal Guard and Nightguard ponies were stuck fighting deeper inside the warehouse.

The gunner reacted instantly, spinning the turret around to face the void ponies.

"HAHA, take it!" The 30mm autocannon began firing shells at the void ponies, ripping straight through them and decimating their ranks. The void ponies fell instantly as the wave was quickly turned into a trickle.

The gunner aimed the turret skywards to pick off any pegasi that had snuck by, while the Nightguard Corporal and the Royal Guard mopped up any remaining void ponies. Rujy opened his side door to get a better look.

Most of the crowd had backed off from the fighting, now hovering around uncertainly at the end of the alleyway, but one of the ponies had apparently decided to attempt to fight. He was facing a void earthpony, wielding a sharp piece of debris in his mouth.

"Stay back! I don't want to hurt you!" came his muffled shout.

Rujy turned to the back of the vehicle. "Soldiers, deploy. Deploy right now," he said urgently. This was about to get ugly.

"No, don't deploy. Pass one of the rifles, quickly," insisted the driver. He had seen the civilian pony too.

The soldiers in the back froze, unsure what to do. Rujy gave the driver a quick glare before hopping out of the Mauler, pistol in hand. It still only had one bullet in it.

He quickly crossed the short distance to where the pony was, checking left and right for any more void ponies. He stopped suddenly, taking in the scene in front of him.

The void pony had ripped off one of the earthpony's hind legs, who was now cowering some distance away. Rujy couldn't see where the leg was. The void pony approached the earthpony slowly and menacingly.

Rujy raised his pistol and fired directly at the void pony, just as the Nightguard Corporal swooped down out of the sky to tackle it out of the way. For one, horrible second he thought he had hit the Nightguard, but she was glaring at him with annoyance rather than pain. The void pony had dissipated with the shot.

The Nightguard glanced at the earthpony. "The Royal Guard will help him. We've lost time, we need to move now. Tell the driver to follow me."

He didn't see how the earthpony could be helped by the Royal Guard pegasus, but the Nightguard was right. If they waited any longer, the void ponies could attack again. He nodded and returned to the Mauler.

The driver gave Rujy a look that he couldn't read, but remained silent. The Nightguard had darted out the right side of the alley. The driver carefully followed, slowly at first but picking up speed as they left the alley.

Here was a significantly wider space which the doors of the warehouses opened into. Despite the lights on in each warehouse, and the crates and boxes arranged into pallets everywhere, the whole area was deserted. The Mauler turned left now, heading for a huge gateway set in the wall that Rujy assumed surrounded the area.

On the way to the warehouse they had been hidden inside their vehicles and pony-driven carts, so he hadn't been able to see much. He did know that they were in the industrial area of Stalliongrad, which was separated by walls in huge sectors.

No explanation had been provided for this.

The Nightguard waited at the entirely unguarded gate. Outside was a huge industrial area. Wide streets snaked between tall buildings that whirred with noise and randomly blasted light at the sky. Rujy could see dark shapes- likely pegasi- flitting between different levels of the buildings.

The Mauler stopped at the mouth of the gate, next to the Nightguard. She tapped on the door, which Rujy opened slightly.

"Don't get too distracted, Russians. This is the industrial area- the safehouse is fairly close by. Just follow me down the street and turn left when I do. Stay on the left side of the lane and ignore any ponies; they'll assume it's some new, prototype machine, there's always one being tested here. Don't stop for anything."

"This had better not be a trap," warned Rujy.

The Nightguard snorted. "As if I'm in the state to try anything." She shut the door and bounded down the street.

"Follow her."

The driver kicked the APC into action, sending it at a steady pace down the street. It was similar to an avenue, with cobbled stone making up the road and trees sitting along the median line. They passed the occasional industrial pony- mostly earthponies and pegasi, noted Rujy- but none of them paid the APC too much attention, simply giving the vehicle a wide berth.

They passed several pony-towed carts along the way too, laden with bits of metal and machinery, as well as a large stall selling hot food. Despite the time of day, there was a decent line of customers being served by a weary salesman. It reminded Rujy that he hadn't eaten for a while now.

He leaned back in his seat. "Medics, how's your captain?"

He was surprised to hear the captain himself respond, "Never been better. Well, still hurts like hell, but it's better than being dead." The captain paused for a moment. "Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel."

Glancing back in surprise, Rujy responded confusedly, "What for?'

"Getting us out of there alive."

"Ah, thank Captain Rolan and his good men. Without them we'd still be fighting for our lives there- without ammunition."

The driver gave a small smile.

Rujy continued, "Speaking of Captain Rolan- what took your unit so long? We could have used the Maulers a lot sooner."

The driver's smile disappeared, and he shrugged. "Issue with the vehicles." He didn't elaborate.

That was... extremely suspicious. Rujy narrowed his eyes but didn't press the matter. "Are the rest of you holding up fine?"

There was a general murmur of assent from the soldiers.

"Fantastic. Check your weapons and ammo, and keep an eye on the Princess, medics."

"She's still not awake. Probably."

"Alright. Don't inject her with anything- that didn't go very well last time." Rujy turned his attention back to the cameras. The street had become a lot more deserted, and the buildings here were significantly quieter.

The Nightguard had stopped at the side of the street, and was motioning to an alley on the left. The driver turned smoothly into the alley.

It was much smaller than the other alleys they had passed on the way, but still had enough space to fit the APC. The Nightguard was at the end of the alleyway, apparently motioning at them to drive straight into the solid wall at the end of the alley. Rujy and the driver exchanged glances.

"Should I...?" asked the driver uncertainly.

"Go ahead, just keep it slow. Maybe it's a sliding wall or something. I heard those were common back in Soviet Russia."

The driver slowly edged the APC forward. Rujy tensed up as the front of the Mauler appeared to collide with the wall, but there was no shudder. Instead, it smoothly passed through.

"What the-"

The Mauler made it all the way through, entering a garage-like room dimly lit by an electrical light. Various shelves stocked with mechanical tools and equipment lined the shelves. Rujy opened the door and stared back at the wall. It was still there, as imposing and solid as it should be. A second later, the Nightguard walked right through it, grinning slightly.

"An illusion. It's a solid wall unless you believe you can cross through, or someone else believes that you can cross. Applies to objects as well."

"Ah." Rujy looked around the room. "So, what now?"

"Now, we get Princess Luna to somewhere more comfortable, and wait for backup."

Despite being a tiny, two-storey building wedged between two industrial blocks, the safehouse boasted a small quarters, luxury bedroom, fully-stocked kitchen and dining room, and an armory. Princess Luna had been moved to the king-sized bed while the soldiers squeezed in around the dining table, across from the Nightguard.

"Well... I've radioed for some backup to collect and treat Princess Luna. With luck, we'll be able to deny that any of this happened."

Rujy rubbed his eyes wearily. "I'm still very, very confused."

"I suppose I did promise an explanation." The Nightguard Corporal was busy cleaning and bandaging her wound. She had refused any help from the medics. "Do you want me to explain here or...?"

He looked around at the soldiers surrounding him. He wasn't sure if he trusted the Mauler's driver and gunner or VDV troopers, but the two soldiers and three medics who had fought with him definitely deserved to hear this.

"Explain now."

"In that case... ask away."

Rujy breathed in. "Who was the pony we killed at the farm? Why hasn't anyone mentioned it?"

The Nightguard Corporal blinked. "Straight to the point, eh? Well, if you really want to know, that was Honest Hooves, a vigilante. He tried to assassinate Queen Chrysalis, and managed to kill a couple of her changelings in the process. She got pissed off and asked us to turn him over." The Nightguard sighed. "We're doing our best to avoid another conflict, on request of Princess Twilight, so we agreed to help her hunt down Honest Hooves as long as she did it quietly and without harming anyone else. We couldn't alert the Royal Guard- they'd want a proper trial in court, which doesn't consider changelings to have the same rights as ponies."

"So you found us by pure coincidence?"

"Exactly. Queen Chrysalis personally asked us to forgive you for the murder. Seeing as we can't exactly try you for it, we did."

"I... see." Rujy supposed he was still in denial over murdering the pony. It still didn't feel... real. "So... what the hell happened at the warehouse, with Princess Luna?"

The Nightguard was silent for a few seconds. "...not sure. I've never heard of anything like those shadow monsters. I do, however, recognise her alter ego."

"Her... alter ego?" asked one of the medics.

"Let me tell you the legend of Nightmare Moon, humans." The Corporal had finished bandaging her wound. Her expression was serious.

Throne Room, Royal Palace. A Long Time Ago

Princess Celestia stared at her sister in horror. "Luna, please, see reason. There's no need to fight. I can help you." She stepped forward.

"NOT ANOTHER STEP," declared Princess Luna. She was panting heavily from using so much magic, but her eyes burned with rage. The ethereal glow of her mane and tail lit up the ruined throne room. "Did you really expect me to sit idly by while they all basked in your precious light?"

"No, Luna, I-"

"There can only be one Princess in Equestria. And that princess... will be ME!" She threw her head back and cackled loudly. Her very form shifted- she was now Nightmare Moon.

"You're insane," breathed out Princess Celestia.

"Maybe I am," Nightmare Moon replied. "But once I'm done, our subjects will learn to appreciate the NIGHT as they were meant to."

"Please, Luna. Don't forget your royal duty. You need to lower the moon, and then we can talk about this."

Nightmare Moon levitated into the air, eyes glowing. "My only royal duty is to destroy YOU." She blasted a beam of pure light at Celestia, who rolled to dodge it. The beam utterly obliterated the heavy gold throne, reducing it to a pile of smoking ash.

Princess Celestia sighed. "Then I suppose I have no choice..."

She levitated six crystals from a pedestal in the corner of the room. Her horn glowed as they span around her.

"What are you doing?" Nightmare Moon sounded genuinely afraid.

"Last chance, sister. End this now." The crystals shone with ethereal light.

Nightmare Moon bared her teeth. "The only way this will end is with your smoking corp-"

She howled in pain as a wave of rainbows flew through the air, hitting her directly. Princess Celestia maintained the flow of magic to the Elements of Harmony, even as tears flew down her muzzle.

She didn't know if they were because of her own pain or her sister's.

Finally, after what seemed like millennia, Nightmare Moon had disappeared. Princess Celestia looked up through the smoldering roof at the night sky. Etched on the moon was now a shadow of a mare, forever howling.

"Your Highness!" shouted a voice from behind. Princess Celestia turned to see a squad of royal guards in white and black livery: earthponies, unicorns, pegasi, and batponies. They were spreading out, forming a protective barrier around Princess Celestia. "Are you alright? Where is Princess Luna?" asked one of the captains.

Celestia took a deep, gasping breath. "Don't..."

"Your Highness, are you alright?"

"DON'T MENTION LUNA'S NAME, EVER AGAIN!" Her voice boomed throughout the city. The force was enough to blast the unfortunate captain backwards.

She stared at him, bloodied and bruised on the ground, then at the sky. Celestia's sister still howled in pain in the moon.

Nightguard Safehouse, Sector 3, Stalliongrad Industrial Complex. August 7th, 2045. 4:20 AM

"So... she's supposed to be trapped in the moon?" asked one of the medics in confusion. He was fiddling around with the contents of a first aid kit.

"Well... not exactly. She broke out a few years ago, although some ponies say Celestia released her. Princess Twilight- well, at the time she was still an ordinary unicorn- fought her off with the power of Harmony, and Princess Luna returned."

"'returned'? And who's Princess Twilight exactly? Weren't there only two Royal Sisters?" demanded Rujy. The Nightguard responded with a weary look.

"If I have to explain every little thing about Equestria, we'll be here forever."

"It's not like you're pressed for time right now."

"If you insist. We think Nightmare Moon is some sort of alter ego or curse or something that causes Princess Luna to have sudden power fantasies. Namely, plunging the whole world into eternal night."

"Ofcourse there's a supervillain here," muttered one of the soldiers.

"As for Princess Twilight, she's a new Princess. All alicorns are considered royalty, of which there are only four in existence. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, the original two, and Princess Twilight and Princess Cadance, the new ascensions. They used to be a unicorn and pegasus respectively before they ascended for doing a great act."

"Ah."

"Yeah, it's complicated. Anything else? Backup should be here any minute, so make it quick."

Rujy considered the events of the past day. He had plenty of questions regarding the changelings, Nightguard, Royal Guard, and Equestria in general, but he chose the most pressing one.

"What's going on with you and the Royal Guard? And how did that guy know about Honest Hooves?"

"It's a difficult topic. While Princess Luna was in exile, the Royal Guard gained strength and became the military force of Equestria. They controlled the police, intelligence force, and armed forces. Then, when Princess Luna came back, she formed the Nightguard out of batponies. It's the new intelligence force- covert ops, infiltration, espionage and such. The Royal Guard didn't like that, so we butt heads sometimes over who should take responsibility for what. I don't think they trust Princess Luna either." She stared directly into Rujy's eyes. "I think you can see why it's important to us that we deny what happened. If word gets out that Nightmare Moon is back, Her Highness' reputation will be destroyed."

There was silence in the room as everyone considered the weight of her words.

...
...

knock-knock

"That'll be backup."

???. August 7th, 2045. 8:20 A.M

The Blackbear gunner threw a pebble at the sea. It bounced three times.

"Ah, dammit, I'm bored of this. You guys go ahead, I'll go look for something to eat."

He walked away from the group despite their protests and demands for him to continue playing. The communications officer was sitting on the side of the Blackbear, fiddling with a radio.

"Still not able to contact the main force?"

The officer looked up. "I'm not trying to contact them. It'll give away our position."

"Ah. So what are you doing?" The gunner leaped up to sit next to the officer.

"Just listening to local radio. They have some pleasant music, want a listen?"

The gunner glanced at the radio skeptically. "It's not Chinese propaganda, is it?"

"Nah, comrade. Kind of like what Dedushka sings. Folk music."

"Well, unplug your headphones then. Let's hear it."

The officer did so, raising the volume of the speakers of the radio. The song burst out over the beach- men loosely singing in harmony.

"In fields of toil and sweat, we stand,
Together, hand in hand.
From dawn 'til dusk, we work as one,
For a future, bright as the sun."

"Oh, comrades, hear our song,
United, we are strong.
In solidarity we'll rise,
With hope that never dies."

"We'll raise red banners, bold and bright,
Under the stars, through the night.
With hearts ablaze, we'll march as one,
Until Equestria's done and won."

Chapter 11/USA: Consequences Pt. 2

Author's Note

Sorry the chapter is late! Had to deal with some irl stuff, but it should be good now!
I've decided to switch to a one chapter per two weeks schedule, seeing as I'll be quite busy in the future. Don't worry, this means you'll be getting the occasional longer chapter!

Chapter 11/USA: Consequences Pt. 2

"Isn't it dreadful? Here we are, two officers of the German General Staff, discussing how best to murder our commander in chief."

Manehattan Bay. August 7th, 2045. 6:08 PM

"Jobs."

"Yes, jobs," repeated Lieutenant Colonel Jameson, lifting his cap to smooth his hair. Lee had insisted on getting him a proper Admiral's hat, despite how it clashed with the Army uniform.

The HR Manager stared back from down the conference table. "So, let me get this straight. A random, drunk pony said some utter nonsense about jobs-"

"It was a valid concern," grumbled Jameson.

"-and you responded by making a vague promise to employ several dozen ponies on the USS Discord."

"Forty to be exact."

"Sir, I think you'd make a good politician," the HR manager stated with a slight smile, "but there are likely some concerns to be addressed here. Anyone?"

Almost every hand went up.

The small conference table hosted the top twelve officers on board the ship, excluding Lee's right-hand man, a Lieutenant Pat, who was busy organising supplies. Two unarmed guards stood next to the heavy, locked door. A single screen against the wall displayed a record of the conversation so far.

Jameson nodded to a Navy officer. "Go ahead, Quartermaster."

The Quartermaster spoke with a nasally voice, "Well, Colonel, these... ponies... will surely require pay. We have a stash of American dollars, but no Equestrian bits. We simply can't afford to hire them."

"Don't worry about it, Quartermaster. We will have a month or so before we need to worry about salaries. That's plenty of time to figure something out- worst case scenario, we take a loan from the Royal Sisters." Jameson had thought about this in the hour before the meeting had started.

The Quartermaster frowned as if unsatisfied, but kept silent. The Delta Force Captain- whose name he still hadn't learnt- spoke up instead.

"What about security? The Royal Guard officers who I talked warned us of changeling infiltrators slipping in- and the Royal Guard or Nightguard could be trying to get some of their own ponies in too."

"Changeling infiltrators?"

The Delta Captain looked around the room at the blank look on every face. "Changelings. The small, outcast race of shapeshifting bugponies."

"Dear god."

"Aaand they crave love."

"Love?" asked Jameson. These changelings sounded quite like vampires.

"No one really explained it to me, but apparently they kidnap ponies, take their place, and steal love from their partner. Dark stuff," elaborated the Delta Captain, shaking his head. "We should hold another meeting with the Ambassador pony to learn more about the threat each race poses."

"Yep. But, until we can figure out a way to detect changelings or other malicious ponies, let's simply be careful. Captain, I want you to write a modified version of the Visitor regulations that allow for doing essential work tasks on the upper decks and on the apron."

"Yessir."

Another Army officer spoke up. "What about the safety of the ponies? They're either not able to use or are untrained with our equipment and regulations. What sort of work will they be doing anyways?"

Jameson gave a thoughtful nod. It would look extremely bad if a pony was hit by a snapping rope, or a helicopter's rotors sliced a batpony or pegasus.

"The ship does occasionally get contractors on board during peacetime, right?" he asked Lee, who nodded in response.

"They usually help with cleaning, cooking, refueling, loading supplies, and maintaining the electrical systems. We have safety precautions to ensure they aren't in danger," explained Lee.

"Then apply those here. Pretend these are contractors, but make the most of their special skills. Repairing a broken transformer is a lot easier when you can do magic, eh? They can help with educating our men on pony culture, too."

The Army officer gave a respectful nod. "Sounds good, Lieutenant Colonel. Might be worth assigning a squad specifically to deal with the pony workers, though."

Jameson gave a slight grin. "I have a plan for that. Now, if no one else has anything to say about the ponies, let's address the bits issue. How can we raise funds before the end of month?"

The room was silent for a moment. Captain Emma, the air wing captain, stood up suddenly from near the end of the table. "The ponies don't use any heavy machinery for transport, right?"

"I believe they have trains and such," said one of the Army officers.

"I mean for aerial transport. All they have are pegasi and batponies, who aren't particularly strong. They simply can't transport heavy or large objects by air- at least, not cheaply."

Jameson frowned thoughtfully, trying to figure out what she was getting at. "What are you suggesting?"

With a smug grin, Captain Emma explained, "We have a Starlifter on board, sitting around and gathering dust. This thing is capable of carrying several hundred tons of goods without breaking a sweat, and it only needs two pilots. What if we use it to transport goods for the ponies?"

"What about fuel costs? Can we even procure fuel here?"

One of the Navy officers spoke up, "The on-board distillery can produce more than enough required to keep a Starlifter operating. We just need a consistent supply of seawater- and I don't think that'll be a problem."

It seemed like a solid plan. Jameson wasn't sure who they could deliver for, especially if they were charging a high price, but he could ask New Horizons about it later. "Sounds good. Captain, talk with the Lieutenant Commander and the Ambassador after the meeting is over."

Captain Emma gave a small fist pump as she sat down. "Yes, sir!"

"Isn't she too young to be a Captain?" whispered one of the Navy officers sitting near Jameson to another officer.

"She technically isn't. She's a Lieutenant here from the Air Force-" The responding officer was silenced by a glare from Jameson.

"Ah, Lieutenant Colonel, if I may contribute one of my own suggestions," said the Quartermaster.

"Go ahead, Quartermaster."

"We know the ponies have access to a limited quantity of poor-quality firearms from the griffons, but they are far inferior to what we can produce with our on-board workshops."

"You want to... sell them guns?" Jameson didn't like where this was going. The Americans didn't know anything about the fighting capabilities of the ponies, so he didn't like the idea of giving them more toys to kill humans with.

"Correct, sir. We can modify them to be suitable for ponies- perhaps by adding a mouth trigger- after consulting them about possible designs. They can't even copy it- only we have the right equipment and knowledge to produce the weapons." The Quartermaster's expression was entirely bland and impossible to read.

Jameson picked up a pen, inspecting it while he thought about how best to turn down the proposal. He simply didn't feel comfortable with the idea of selling weapons to the ponies. Worst case scenario, they were used against the Americans in the future. Best case scenario, they disrupted the balance of power in Equestria and caused a major headache for the local government.

"Yeah, Quartermaster, uhhh... I think the Royal Sisters would frown upon us coming over and selling small arms to anyone who can afford them. We should focus on proving that we're not a threat to the ponies before securing our own interests. How about we talk about it in a couple of weeks?"

The Quartermaster smiled coldly. "Of course, Lieutenant Colonel. I have nothing else to say."

Jameson returned an equally cold smile. He wasn't sure if the Quartermaster disliked him, or if he was simply that way with everyone.

"So... when should we begin hiring, sir?" asked the HR Manager.

Jameson collected his documents from the table, sorting them into a neat stack and passing them to Lee. The meeting was just about wrapped up, and he wasn't eager to see the manager's reaction to what he was about to tell him ."Oh, I'd say... tomorrow, preferably."

The HR Manager made a strangled sound. "To-tomorrow?"

Smoothing out his jacket, Jameson began hobbling towards the door using his crutch, with Lee close behind. The rest of the table began getting up too.

"Good luck, officer."

"You- I can't-"

The two guards saluted as Lieutenant Colonel Jameson and Lieutenant Commander Lee left the room. The other officers filtered out behind them, heading towards their various workplaces, leaving the HR Manager alone inside.

Jameson slowed down as the duo arrived on the flight deck. It was unusually quiet and calm, considering the time- normally the apron would be full of technicians and flight crew preparing for the day. He supposed the crew was getting their due rest after having been kept awake for nearly a full day. There was the occasional guard patrol and crewmember passing by, but it was otherwise deserted.

"Lieutenant Colonel?" asked Lee as they watched a Little Bird being lazily polished by a trio of Navy crew. Only their solemn expressions indicated the disaster of the previous day.

"Yes?"

"Do you think..." Lee paused, reconsidering his words. "Maybe it would... We should start thinking for the long term, sir."

Jameson raised a questioning eyebrow. "The long term?"

"Yes, sir. Our crew are still running this ship like an aircraft carrier- giving out salaries, organising leave, preparing to receive regular supplies. We can't go on like that forever, though. We need to modify the entire way this ship functions; this is no longer simply the USS Discord, it is an enclave of American territory far out of reach of the mainland, and we modify our systems to prepare for everything."

He honestly had not thought of that. Jameson had simply assumed that the crew would adapt to their new situation, that there would also be spare men to carry out whatever tasks were needed to run the ship in this wildly different scenario.

"What are you saying, Lee?"

"I just told you. We need to make-"

Jameson interrupted, "No, I meant, what are you saying we should do. Where do we start?"

Lee blinked. "Well, we can assign a team to go through the administrative branch of the ship and iron out unnecessary tasks, then compile a list of needs we have to address."

"Good man, let's start now. Get to it, and report back on the progress with replacing the lost officers and the status of the wounded, too. Make sure the supplies the ponies provided have been distributed."

Lee saluted, disappearing back into the island structure on the flight deck.

"Ah, there ya are! Sir! Ah've been tryin' to get through to ya for ages!"

Jameson turned to see Ambassador New Horizons half-cantering, half-flying across the flight deck towards him. He took an involuntary step back. Behind her, a light-yellow pegasus he didn't recognise followed her more sedately, with two worn-out Rangers trying to catch up.

New Horizons stopped in front of Jameson, saluting. The yellow pegasus also saluted as she stared at Jameson.

"Hello, New Horizons." Jameson watched, slightly amused, as the exhausted Rangers jogged across the flight deck towards them.

"Hiya, Jameson. Ah've arranged something important for you, but those gentlemen tried ta stop me when I came to tell ya, so ah gave em the slip."

"The perimeter guard? They must have recognised you, or else you'd be dead right now."

New Horizons didn't seem to be too bothered by that fact. "And this is Private Glint, the Royal Guard assigned to... guard me, I think."

Glint gave Jameson a small wave. "Hello," she said pleasantly. The Rangers skid to a stop just behind her, saluting almost simultaneously.

"Sorry, sir, they're quite fast," said one of the Rangers sheepishly. "Should we escort them back off the ship?"

Jameson shook his head. "This is the Ambassador, she's supposed to have guarded access to the ship. Let her in next time."

"Yes, sir." The soldiers moved a respectful distance away, but kept a close eye on the pegasi. Jameson supposed that they were there to guard him.

"So, Ambassador, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Oh, right! Ya aren't busy or anything, are ya, sir?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. Not for the next two hours or so. Why?"

New Horizons beamed widely at him. "Well, there's some important news ah have to share, but first- ah've been talkin' to the Guard, and we decided that we should take ya on a tour of Manehatten, seeing as ya couldn't experience much in the night." She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "They're rather proud of their big city. Ah don't think it's too pretty maself."

Glint narrowed her eyes slightly. "Well, I think it's quite-"

"What were you thinking?" interrupted Jameson. He had no desire to watch the two ponies bicker.

Giving Glint an apologetic glance, New Horizons pointed towards the Little Bird being polished. "An aerial tour! Ah've arranged for a pegasi escort to show ya all the best places. Might be a lot of tourists, though. They're on standby now, so whenever yer ready."

Jameson had a sudden, fleeting vision of families of pegasi being torn to shreds by the cruel rotors of the fast-flying helicopter. He blinked it away, hoping that the Little Bird pilot was skilled enough- and the tourists sensible enough- for there to be no accidents

"Maybe we should ask Captain Emma first..."

"Captain Emma? Who's that?"

"That'd be me. Captain of the USS Discord's air wing."

Captain Emma Stone was standing just a few meters behind them, having exited the island with a Navy technician in a high-vis vest.

"Hello, ma'am," greeted New Horizons, raising her front hoof for a shake. Captain Emma bent down slightly to accept it. "I'm the Ambassador to the Americans."

"I heard something about an aerial tour?"

"Yes ma'am. Ah assume yer in charge of the heli-cop-ters?"

"Yep. And yes, you can take one. I'll have a pilot and a couple of Rangers to you soon, Lieutenant Colonel."

Jameson nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Captain. Get to it." He watched as Captain Emma disappeared back into the island, leaving the technician to inspect the condition of the temporary door. "In the meantime, you said you had some news, Ambassador?"

New Horizons stared blankly at him for a moment. "I did?" Glint tapped her lightly on the shoulder, and she blinked. "Right! I did! So, yesterday morning, the Royal Castle accepted a group of humans- part of the Oor-apeans! Humans, just like you guys!"

Jameson froze. The ECA? In the Royal Castle... that would be in Canterlot, the capital of Equestria.

There were other humans. Just a couple days' train ride away, and a few hours by helicopter. Jameson had accepted the idea that they were entirely alone in this strange world- that no help was coming-and here were their sort-of allies going through the same confusion that they were.

He didn't want to process the implications of this new information just yet.

"Soldier, get me Lieutenant Commander Lee. Now." Jameson spoke aloud to one of the Rangers. He had guessed that they had been eavesdropping. The Ranger left immediately, understanding the severity of the situation.

New Horizons stared at him confusedly. "What's wrong, sir? You told me that you were allies with the Ooro-peans."

"It's a bit more complicated than that Ambassador. I think we may have to cancel the-"

"No." said the other pegasus firmly. "The Royal Guard really wants you guys to go on the tour. We've kept the pegasi squad waiting for too long." She paused. "Please?"

Jameson made some quick calculations in his head. If the tour took less than an hour, he could be back in time for Lee's briefing.

"OK. Ok. New Horizons, can you talk to Lee? Tell him what you know about the ECA? It's quite vital information."

New Horizons wore an uncertain expression. "Ah dunno, we need someone to co-ordinate with the escorts..."

"I can go instead," suggested Glint. "I'm familiar with the city too, so I can provide some extra info."

"Yeah, that works! And ah think those are your men, sir. Enjoy!"

Jameson glanced over to see that there was indeed a flight crew doing pre-flight checks. "Thanks, Ambassador."

He led Glint to the helicopter. "Will you fly yourself, or do you want to sit inside?"

"Sit inside? Oh, no, thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. I wouldn't trust such a heavy thing to carry me into the air." She shuddered. "No offense, though. Your machines are quite advanced." Glint looked around the small interior. It featured a space for the pilot as well as four seats facing out towards the doors, and a weapons rack at the very back.

"Suit yourself. Lead the way, and tell the other pegasi to keep a safe distance from the rotors. You don't want to see what these things can do a body at full speed."

"Don't worry, sir. We're good at dodging things."

Jameson nodded and climbed inside the helicopter. A pair of Delta Force operators got in with him, armed with light machineguns. He wondered if the Delta Force Captain had heard of his impromptu tour.

"Pilot, tail that yellow pony."

The two pilots were already in the cockpit, and the Little Bird smoothly started up and lifted off the ground, with the doors still open for a better view. Jameson put on the pair of headphones attached to the seat and listened to the calming hum of air traffic control radio.

Following Glint, who was flying a safe distance ahead, the Little Bird flew in a curve around the beachside park, which was lined by high rise apartments that blocked the view of the interior city. In the distance, Jameson could see huge, glass skyscrapers, much taller than the ones back in the USA. It was remarkably similar to the coastal side of New York City.

Jameson tensed up as about half a dozen pegasi flew up to form a loose sphere around the helicopter, but relaxed when he saw that they were dressed in Royal Guard armour.

The Little Bird came to a halt just half a kilometer away from the USS Discord, hovering in place above a more rocky beach. Ahead of them, Glint was motioning towards the narrow gap between the tall highrises lining the city street. It was mostly empty, with only a few pegasi and a couple of batponies flying through.

Jameson lowered his headset mike. “Pilot, can you fit in there?”

“Not sure, sir. A gust of wind could blow us into one of the buildings. We could go over, instead,” came the crackled reply.

“Understood. Give me a second.” He checked that his harness was properly tied before standing up and leaning out the side of the helicopter. The rotors spun uncomfortably close to his head. Jameson made an upwards motion with his remaining arm, shouting, “Can we go above?”

He wasn’t sure if Glint had heard, but she nodded and darted upwards, a few dozen meters above the rooftops of the apartments. Two members of the pegasi escort followed, keeping civilian pegasi a distance away from the helicopter. Jameson leaned back in and sat down, much to the visible relief of the Delta operator sitting next to him.

“Sir, with all due respect, please don’t do that again.”

Jameson didn’t reply, too focused on the sights below him.

There were the mundane scenes that he’d expected to see- ponies sitting on the rooftops, chatting or eating or just generally relaxing, and the early morning rush pushing their way through the streets of Manehatten. But there were other scenes which reminded him of the differences between the two worlds. Chariots pulled by duos of pegasi flew beneath them, seemingly weightless, unicorns materialised onto rooftops with flashes of magic, and earthpony children play-duelled each other with wooden sticks.

Some of the rooftops were covered with an impossible amount of greenery. Jameson spotted entire forests and flower gardens, and even what seemed to be a rabbit habitat in the distance. The buildings themselves were highly varied too, in both height and architecture. He shook his head in disbelief at an office building that looked like a series of huge, mossy rocks haphazardly stacked on each other and hollowed out.

They were interspersed by the occasional park or pond or patch of woodland, which didn’t seem to obey any sort of city planning or design, and were unbothered by the heavily developed, urban landscape around them. Jameson couldn’t see an end to the city from here.

It was an insane, impossible, cartoonish fantasy world, and here they were in it. Jameson felt incredibly out of place in the noisy, heavy helicopter, wearing an American military uniform and Admiral’s cap, missing an arm and leg.

The helicopter picked up speed as Glint changed direction, heading for the city center instead of following the coast. As they drew inwards, the buildings became taller and more haphazard, forcing the helicopter upwards. It became harder to make out the ponies in the streets below them, and there were less civilian pegasi flying at such a height. The escort drew outwards, allowing more space for the Little Bird to manoeuvre.

Far ahead of them, Glint had stopped and turned around, pointing her front hoof downwards.

Jameson leaned slightly out of the side to see a massive raised park on the joined roofs of several, shorter buildings. It was rectangular in shape, and big enough to comfortably allow for the terrain to curve and slope, forming small hills and valleys. There was even a decently sized stream running through the center, falling off at the close edge into another, smaller park below.

Jameson wondered how the stream was fed. He suspected magic or technology had something to do with it, but he couldn’t be sure.

The helicopter was guided by the escorts to a large, flat-ish plain in the park that was empty of any ponies. The pilots skilfully touched down the Little Bird, and shut off the engine. Around them, the Royal Guard pegasi landed, seemingly not tired out by the quick flight.

Jameson and the armed Delta Force operators got out, leaving the two pilots in the helicopter. He looked around, wondering if the ponies wanted him to see this park.

One of the Royal Guards- a fit, blue-furred pegasus- approached Jameson. She took off her helmet and shook her rainbow-coloured mane.

“That’s a neat toy you have. Couldn’t fit in that large gap back there, though.”

Jameson immediately disliked her smug, self-important tone. “It’s not made to. We have drones and wingsuits for that.”

The pegasus smirked. “You can nerd out about your tech later. We’ve got some work to do. I….”

She struck a dramatic pose.

“Am Rainbow Dash, the Bearer of the Element of Loyalty, one of the Mane Six.”

Chapter 12/GLA: Calmly Disembarking

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 13/Russia: Most Generous

"Love the Queen and she shall bring you back that love, tenfold!"

[The above is from a Changeling propaganda poster. The Changelings are little more than shadowy nightmares to the wider pony populace, but the closest to the Royal Sisters know just how disastrously close their Queen got to taking Canterlot in the Changeling Invasion.

However, after the defeat of the Changelings, and with their population being reduced to a fraction of their original size, the Queen began forming relations with the Royal Sisters via certain individuals; namely, batponies.

Even I am unsure as to how this occurred exactly. I suspect some batponies may have known about the existence of the Changelings even before the invasion, which raises more questions than it answers.

Regardless, both the defeat and the following attempts at diplomacy strongly indicate one thing: the Changelings are weak. Perhaps it would be best for ponykind, and their world, to wipe them out once and for all.]

Sector 4, Stalliongrad Industrial Complex. August 7th, 2045. 5:37 AM

Captain Artimey stood silently next to Captain Rolan, a Royal Guard pony, and a firefighter pony, his arms folded.

They watched together as the warehouse in front of them burned, almost entirely obscured by the thick black smoke pouring out. Russian soldiers and pony firefighters worked to put it out, pouring water and tossing sandbags wherever they could. Above, pegasi flitted in and out of the tall, open windows, tossing water in and clearing out before the smoke choked them.

A pair of Russian Grizons pulled up in front of them, with large, red tanks strapped to either side. A squad of Russian soldiers hooked a hose to each tank and opened the valve, spraying water at the building. It wasn't as good as a foam extinguisher, but it would have to do.

After Lieutenant Colonel Rujy had left the scene, the endless stream of shadowy fake-ponies had continued appearing, melting out of an unnaturally dark spot in front of the doors of the warehouse. The fire from the explosion meant to give them an escape route had spread out of control- there had been gas lines running through the walls, which the engineer squad had not anticipated.

Thankfully, a squad of Royal Guards had responded and aided the Russians as they slowly retreated out of the building, away from the fire, and the wave of shadow ponies had ceased.

Captain Artimey hoped that this meant they had stopped appearing, rather than just being blocked by the fire.

The fire had quickly become the bigger threat, and now the Russians were working with the Royal Guard and the ponies to put it out. It had been over half an hour, with little to no progress.

"All rise for Regiment Commander High Coat, Duke of Stalliongrad," came a loud, commanding shout from behind Artimey.

He glanced around. No one was sitting.

Behind them, a fancy pony-drawn carriage came to a stop, complete with elaborate, gold-plated framing, and footmen- hoofponies?- standing on their hind legs, hanging on to the sides. A Royal Guard unicorn rushed to open it, bowing as an imposing, blue-coated unicorn, wearing an actual coat similar to a Russian Admiral’s one, stepped out.

Regiment Commander High Coat, Duke of Stalliongrad, took in the weary ponies and soldiers rushing about, the warehouse belching fire and smoke, and the rows of injured soldiers on stretchers being treated by both Russian and Royal Guard medics. His cold, grey eyes fell on Artimey, and he trotted over.

He held out a hoof. "Lieutenant Colonel Ruj-ee?"

Captain Artimey accepted the hoof with a forced smile. The pony was evidently young, but held himself up with the confidence of a member of royalty. Artimey wished Rujy had some of that confidence- it was vital in asserting order over subordinates, and showing capability to superiors.

"The Lieutenant Colonel is busy at the moment, but he has left me in charge. What do you need, Duke High Coat?"

The Duke gave him a sideways glance, the kind given when someone knows you aren't telling the whole truth. "This is an important matter. I must speak to him. Where is he?"

Artimey feigned surprise. "One of your own ponies escorted him into the main city. I thought you would know."

He enjoyed messing with people who thought too much of themselves.

"What? I haven't-" The Duke looked around at his own guards, who offered no explanation. "What about the Princess Luna? Is she secure?"

"About that..."

Nightguard Safehouse, Stalliongrad. August 7th, 2045. 6:39 AM

knock-knock

"That'll be backup," said the Nightguard batpony. She got up from the table to open the door to the garage.

Rujy had developed a sudden, splitting headache in the past few seconds that darkened the edges of his vision with a sickly green, but he brushed it off to his stress and lack of sleep.

Another batpony, this one a mare with a pitch-black coat, stepped into the small room. She wore a pair of brown bags on her sides, and seemed tired out, looking around in a sort of daze.

"What happened to you?" asked the Corporal in concern, leading the other pony to a chair and helping her sit down.

"Ah, long flight. I'll be fine." She held out a rolled-up piece of rough, thick paper. "Message from command."

"A message? Why not use the radio?" The Corporal took the parchment and unrolled it, scanning the contents. "Too sensitive?"

"Yep." The batpony finally seemed to notice the silent Russians sitting around the table. She raised a hoof in greeting. "Hey."

"Hello," responded one of the medics quietly. No one else spoke.

The Nightguard Corporal finished reading the parchment, and tore it into tiny shreds. Rujy detected some slight annoyance or rage in her actions.

"Lieutenant Colonel, you and the medical personnel are to accompany this thestral to the Nightguard headquarters. They want to question you about the... incident. You are to leave any weapons here. Another team will arrive shortly to collect Princess Luna," she reported. "I'll be escorting the rest of your soldiers back to the warehouse after the Princess is secure."

The Mauler's driver was the first to speak. "Sounds like a trap-"

"I'll go," interrupted Rujy. They were at the mercy of the Nightguard here. At least if he got a chance to speak to their commander, he could get some answers and guarantees about what they planned to do with the Russians, and how, if possible, they could get back to Earth.

Refusing would only result in consequences.

"It's an invitation, not an... order," explained the Corporal.

Rujy shrugged. "I suppose I'm in a generous mood. How are we getting there?"

"I have a teleportation rune."

The Corporal glanced at the other batpony. "A rune? Only the alicorns can make that. Where did you get it?"

"Command will explain," responded the batpony curtly. She opened one of her bags and extracted a small, smoothed stone tablet with a single diagonal line inscribed in it. "To the garage?"

Rujy looked sternly at his soldiers. "You all listen to the Corporal here. Make sure you get yourselves and the Mauler back in one piece. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" The soldiers stood up from the table and saluted almost in unison. Rujy returned the salute and led the batpony and the trio of medics into the garage- Sergeant Alekzander had recovered somewhat, and was able to stumble along with the help of his two squadmates- Private Mikhail and Levy- into the garage room.

Despite the order not to carry weapons, Rujy kept the empty pistol and knife concealed in his coat. The medic team still hung on to their two, dull brown trauma bags.

The batpony shut the door behind them. "Just stand as still as you can. I'll handle the rest." Her voice sounded slightly different; less exhausted and more businesslike. "This may hurt, but don't panic."

The Russians stood patiently as the batpony closed her eyes in intense concentration, holding the rune in front of her in one hoof. Rujy's headache persisted, now slightly worse.

After a couple of minutes, one of the medics broke the silence. "Are we supposed-"

A bright, sickly green flash permeated the room, filling Rujy's vision.

Somewhere else...

Cold and dark.

He could feel green magic emanating from the horn on the batpony's head, in a way he couldn't quite articulate.

But batponies didn't have horns.

He looked down at his own hands, only able to feel them. They pulsed with a faint version of that same magic. Around him, the medics had a similar aura, but this felt different.

Dark red.

Back in the physical world...

The group appeared in a small, gloomy cavern with walls made of mossy, rough stone- floating about a meter in the air. They were still in the air for a moment until gravity caught up.

Rujy fell on his knees, holding out his hands to brace himself. He stood up slowly, feeling nauseous and disoriented. He wasn't sure if it was from the teleportation, his headache, or both.

What just happened?

In front of him, in the place of the batpony, was... Queen Chrysalis. Ofcourse. Rujy should have suspected it, given what little the Nightguard had explained about the Changelings in the warehouse. Masters of disguise and infiltration, cunning, devious; they fit all the checkboxes for "evil". He doubted that they had been brought here for a round of drinks and a friendly chat.

"The hell is that...?" muttered Sergeant Alekzander. Rujy remembered that he was the only one who had actually seen the Changelings back at the farmhouse.

"ahem. Welcome, humans. I hope you enjoyed your trip, short as it was. Guards!" The Queen laughed haughtily as about a dozen Changelings wearing grey-black armour flooded in. They surrounded the Russians, pointing long spears at them.

Rujy put his hand on Private Levy's shoulder to reassure him. "Queen Chrysalis, I am not sure that the Nightguards or the Russians would take it kindly if we were to... disappear."

The Queen smirked. "Disappear? Are you suggesting I kidnapped you? No, this is merely a... guided tour."

This stopped Rujy short. "So... you'll send us back."

"Ofcourse. I just need a little favour from the four of you. First of all, let me show you around." And on that menacing note, she exited via the open metal door set in the wall. With the spears of the guards behind them poking in their backs, the Russians had no choice but to follow.

The door opened into a curving corridor with the same floor and walls as the cavern before. It was lit by the occasional gloomy green lamp, basking everything in a slight colored tint, with the walls being regularly interrupted by a vertical beam of wood. The corridor curved slightly to the right and upwards.

He wasn't sure how deep underground they were. The air pressure felt about the same as it did aboveground.

The corridor wasn't very wide, so the guards split into two groups: one in front of the Russians and one behind. As they went, Rujy quietly explained what he knew about the Changelings to the medics.

After just a couple of minutes, the corridor straightened out and stopped rising. There were occasional small openings on either side, just large enough to fit a pony. They opened into unfinished, rubble-strewn rooms.

As the group continued on, Queen Chrysalis began narrating facts like a tour guide.

"Forgive the unsightly appearance. Outpost Asp is only a couple of weeks old, and construction has been put on hold while we sort out a... situation. There are about thirty or forty changelings currently residing here; scientists, workers, and, of course, guards." She paused.

Rujy took this as a cue to ask questions. Nothing to lose in doing so. "Guards? For what?"

"Pony militias, centipede invasions, sudden visitors. All sorts of things can happen, but our guards are well trained to deal with all of them."

"I just hatched two weeks ago- ow!" One of the changelings was silenced by a slight kick to the side by his fellow guard and a glare from Queen Chrysalis.

"Two weeks?" asked Rujy in surprise. The guard looked almost exactly the same as the others, with glowing teal eyes, black armour-like chitin, and random holes in its legs. Only a slight height difference and the lack of any scars or tears in its chitin differentiated it.

"Changelings don't need as much time to learn as other ponies," explained Chrysalis shortly.

They walked on in silence with not much change in scenery, except for passing another changeling who moved to the side and bowed down to Queen Chrysalis.

Rujy wanted to use this chance to gather information on their potential enemy, but he didn't know how to phrase any questions innocently. Luckily, Mikhail mustered up the courage to ask something.

"How many of you are there exactly? And do you all live underground?"

Queen Chrysalis continued trotting on casually, but she responded in a serious tone, "Hm... at least five thousand? Maybe six thousand this week? We're not due a census for another two days. And yes, we mostly live underground in Hives, although we do have an aboveground town. They're usually a lot nicer than this though, this is just an outpost."

Five thousand was much smaller than Rujy had expected. With their insect-like appearance, he had imagined huge, swarming underground nests with tens of millions of them, and perhaps millions more infiltrating pony society.

He noted that the lights had switched from the glowing, dull lamps to brightly light fluorescent bulbs. They were powered by a long electrical cable pinned to the ceiling.

"So you have electrical lights?" asked Rujy. It seemed like a fairly non-threatening thing to ask.

Queen Chrysalis glanced upwards. "Oh, these things? The Nightguard supplied them, they're quite useful. It runs on the Equestrian MANES line." Chrysalis spelt out each letter of 'MANES'.

"Mains?" said Rujy confusedly.

"MANES. I'm not sure what it stands for." Chrysalis fell silent.

After a moment, one of the guards spoke up uncertainly. "Magically Amplified Network for Electrical Systems."

"Hmmm?" asked Chrysalis in her loud, authoritative tone.

"That's what MANES stands for. Your Majesty." The guard seemed quite tense.

Queen Chrysalis responded dismissively, "Oh, right. Whatever."

Rujy quietly filed away the exchange in the part of his brain working on escape plans as the group came to a sudden halt.

The corridor opened into a much wider one, and he could actually see the end now: a heavy, vault-like gate set into the far wall. The walls on either side were formed of much smoother stone with a brick texture cut into them, and the floor was laid with amateurish but pretty multi-colored bricks.

There were several large doors cut into each side. All were closed except one, which a pair of changelings exited out of. They both wore stark white lab coats, which seemed ridiculous on top of their dark chitin.

"Aspen, please-"

"I don't care what the ethics committee says, I need a pony and I need it now! Back in my day, we recycled young, non-compliant changelings like you!" barked Aspen.

"Please don't remind us of your age, Researcher," commented Chrysalis drily. Half of the guards dispersed, heading into various rooms, while five remained surrounding the Russians. Sergeant Alekzander glanced at Rujy, evidently asking if he had a plan to escape.

He shook his head.

Meanwhile, Aspen had noticed Chrysalis. "Your Majesty! You've brought the specimens, yes?" It shoved past the Queen and limped towards the Russians, waving the guards aside.

"They're just guests, Aspen! Don't do any of your weird experiments on them."

"My experiments have saved the species several times over, I'll have you know!" The scientist stopped in front of Private Levy, inspecting every inch of his body.

"You are a youngling, I presume?" Aspen whipped out a clipboard and pen seemingly from nowhere, taking rapid notes. "The markings on your coat... perhaps your status in your society? Or just a military rank? And these... talon-like extensions, they seem useful in complicated manual tasks. If I had to guess, I'd say your society is much more advanced than ours, mmm?"

Poor Levy was overwhelmed by all these questions. "Uhhh... what?" He turned desperately to Rujy, who stepped forward to greet the researcher with an outstretched hand.

"Greetings, researcher. I am Lieutenant Colonel Rujy, the commander of the Volki, an elite battalion of the Russian Armed Forces- are you listening?"

The changeling was intently taking notes on its clipboard, flipping over pages at an astounding rate. "Hm? Yes, yes, do go on."

"What if you showed them the lab, Aspen? I have business to attend to. Scream for help or something if they try to murder you." Queen Chrysalis didn't wait for an answer, instead continuing down the corridor and leaving by the vault door, which opened into a pitch-black cave.

The guards followed her, leaving the silent Russians alone with a muttering Aspen and the other researcher changeling. They collectively stared at Aspen.

"Do we... murder him? It? Them?" whispered Private Levy.

"Where would we go? I say we go along with it." Alekzander looked to Rujy for confirmation, who nodded. The whole situation was utterly bizarre, but they had learnt plenty about the Changelings so far.

"Aspen? Sir? Maybe we should show them the l-lab, like the Queen ord- suggested?" said the other changeling gently. Rujy was unable to guess their genders because of their androgynous tones, overlayed with that slight insect-like buzzing.

"Yes, yes, ofcourse. Plenty to do in the lab. Come along now, humans."

Aspen led them through the open door into a decently sized laboratory. There were two rows of smooth stone tables, cluttered with the various objects stereotypical of a lab: scattered papers, gas burners, and vials filled with strangely-colored liquids.

A row of sickbeds lined the opposite wall, separated from the main lab by thick curtains. Another changeling wearing a gas mask and lab coat exited that area, then immediately turned around and went back in when he spotted the humans entering.

Aspen took a seat at one of the stools, setting the notes from its clipboard aside and grabbing fresh pages. It motioned distractedly towards the huddled group of Russians. "Pass your bags, please. I assume they contain medical supplies?"

Rujy nodded to confirm that they could give the changeling their bags. Their contents were entirely harmless- he hoped- and the sooner they were done here, the sooner they could leave. Aspen accepted one of the bags and zipped it open, unceremoniously turning it upside down and dumping the contents on to the already cluttered table.

Sergeant Alekzander, tired out from the walk because of his injuries, took one of the stools. The other changeling stood a little distance away from them. It made the occasional, almost nervous buzzing sound.

The bag was quite bare, only containing a few items: two rolls of sterilised bandages, a large, plastic bottle of strong disinfectant, two small bottles of an unknown substance that Rujy suspected was vodka, various pieces of surgery equipment, a tablet, and a couple of adrenaline syringes.

Aspen picked up one of the syringes, inspecting its label. "Adrenaline... 0.5mg, 1:10000 solution... This is the substance you injected into Her Highness, Princess Luna?" The researcher's guesses were uncannily accurate.

"How did you- ...yes. Just one syringe, it's usually just enough to get someone awake and active. It just lasts a few minutes," explained Private Levy automatically. "You probably shouldn't-"

Aspen had immediately picked up a syringe on the words 'just one syringe', turned around, and injected its assistant with it.

The other changeling gasped, its small, insect-like wings beating frantically, and eyes pulsing with brightness. "Wow... wow, that is STRONG."

"Don't waste it, Spir, we only have one more-"

"...of our adrenaline shots..." muttered Rujy.

"-so just describe how you feel, then we'll move on to tests."

"OK... OK... my heart is beating really fast, I really want to do a spinny, and my magic is feeling especially powerful," burst out Spir. "I can feel all your emotions! I'M A MIND READER NOW!"

Rujy was slightly concerned about that last part, but he was content for now to watch the experiment. He drew out a stool and sat next to Sergeant Alekzander.

The other changeling was taking down notes at lightning-fast speeds. "Let's do a little magic test. Levitate that stool there, gently as you can."

"Right, Aspen!" The stool in question was surrounded by a thick green glow, and almost immediately skyrocketed into the ceiling, shattering into pieces. "...oops."

"Magical... ability... greatly increased..." muttered Aspen. "Alright, try some other exercise. The foal stuff. And remember, as gently as you can." The researcher only sounded slightly enthused, but that was a step up over its earlier complete disinterest with anything aside from his notes. "Try levitation again."

The changeling's horn glowed again, and it lifted up the last unused stool in the room. This time, it was much gentler, dexterously picking up the light wooden object. "Feels a lot lighter than usual, Aspen. And-" The stool moved towards Aspen and began orbiting its head, rotating on every axis as it did so. "-I can manage the more complex stuff now!"

"So... both more power, and increased control over that power... fascinating. Try teleporting across the room. Hurry, we don't have a lot of time."

Spir was a bit less enthusiastic about this. "Eh, I'm not sure I want to end up splattered in a cave somewhere..."

"Don't make me call the Queen."

"Right, I'm on it." Spir closed its eyes, concentrating, and just... vanished. Rujy had expected some sound, or at least a dramatic flash, but it had simply disappeared entirely. He looked around the room but couldn't see the changeling assistant.

Aspen made a disappointed noise. "I just got that assistant a couple of weeks ago. Ah, well." He bent over his notes, apparently unconcerned by the loss of his fellow changeling.

"Should we... do something?" asked Sergeant Alekzander.

There was a slight pop as Spir appeared into view again, exactly where he had been before. "Phew, miscalculated the shot a bit. Ended up falling several hundred meters above the Industrial Sector, but I was able to charge up the spell in time to get back."

Aspen was, somehow, entirely uninterested. "Yes, good job, Spir. Shapeshifting, now, please. Not a lot of time."

"Who do I shift-"

The door to the lab swung open loudly, and in entered a pair of humans.

Rujy's jaw physically swung open in shock as he recognised one of them.

"YOU!"

"...me?"

Author's Note

We love hanging off cliffs here don't we

Chapter 14/USA: Consequences Pt. 3

"The dead men dreamed they were free."
"Oh, knock it off with those old quotes. Where do you keep getting these?"
"..."

Don't worry. It'll all make sense someday.

Manehatten Bay. August 7th, 2045. 7:12 AM

"Is this everyone?" asked Henry as the door of the crowded storeroom swung shut.

Not one of the several dozen Army and Navy soldiers standing and sitting around the small room answered.

"I'll assume it is. Well, I called you all here because there's something this young man has to say." Henry stepped off the table, shoved against the wall opposite the door, and motioned to a Navy technician in a high-vis vest.

He climbed nervously onto the table, but his voice was calm and steady. "Well... the Lieutenant Colonel was just visited by that pony, the Ambassador, and one of the winged guards. They said- they said there's more of us. In Canterlot, the capital."

A murmur rushed through the room as the assembled soldiers took in the technician's words. A shout rang out from the back of the crowd.

"More of us, like more Americans? Or more humans?"

"It's the European Continental Alliance. A small military unit, just like us, I think."

Henry raised a fist for silence as the whispering erupted again. He stood up on the table as the technician stepped off. "You heard him. I don't know whether this is true, but it means we're not alone here. The ECA may still be our allies... or they could be our enemies. Perhaps they're the reason we're here in the first place. Maybe they know exactly what's going on. Clearly this is a situation that needs addressing." He paused dramatically. "Lieutenant Colonel Jameson has gone on a tour of Manehatten, leaving Lieutenant Commander Lee in charge of the situation. He's basically abandoned us."

More whispering. A pair of soldiers quietly left the room through the back of the crowd.

"I'm not done! The Lieutenant Colonel hasn't done anything to arrange our security, or guaranteed our independence from the ponies, or provided any help for our wounded. He left all of that to Lieutenant Commander Lee while he met with the pony monarch privately and had an emotional breakdown in front of her. This is the man we're trusting to lead us."

A soldier spoke up from the front of the crowd indignantly. "What are you suggesting? This is treason of the highest order!"

Henry replied soothingly, "I'm not suggesting we do anything, or make any sort of conspiracies. Simply that we... look out for each other. We've got to watch each other's backs, help each other out. We must carry on the flame of America!"

The soldiers muttered their approval, some cheering and raising their fists in the air.

"Tough times are upon us, and we need to do our best to face them. Inform those who you trust and who were unable to make it here. The next meeting is tomorrow morning, same place, same time.

"God bless you, and God bless the United States of America."

The crowd filtered out of the room, leaving Henry alone.

The short meeting had gone well, but he felt no sense of victory. Only sorrow and regret.

Manehattan City Park. August 7th, 2045. 6:45 AM

"And that's who, exactly?"

Jameson couldn't tell whether the pegasus was genuinely important or just showing off. She wore no armour, only an armband displaying the same picture as her cutie mark- a rainbow shining through some clouds.

Rainbow Dash gave him a skeptical look. "You don't know the Elements of Harmony? Heroes of Equestria? Saviours of the world, several times over?"

He shrugged helplessly. The pegasus' expression switched from skeptical to shocked. "You seriously haven't heard of us? You've been here for what, over an hour, and no one told you about the Elements of Harmony?" She glared at Glint, who also shrugged.

"I wasn't aware you'd be here, Dash." Her tone was surprisingly slightly questioning and confrontational- not something Jameson would expect from a Private speaking to what was apparently a national hero. She said to Jameson, "Very quick briefing- this is Rainbow Dash, the bearer of the Element of Loyalty. That's a special artifact granted only to the most loyal pony in existence- in this case, Dash- and is a part of the Elements of Harmony, five other ponies who together fight whatever supernatural evil threatens Equestria. Got all that?"

Jameson nodded. "I'll ask the Ambassador about the rest once we get back. What do you need, er... Rainbow Dash?"

She hovered off the ground with her wings, apparently bored of the conversation. "Qu- Princess Celestia has a message for you of apparently vital importance. I guess I'm just a postmare now."

Tucking his crutch under his shoulder, Jameson glanced at his watch. He had planned to be back within an hour. Listening to a supposedly vital message would certainly be worth the extra time spent on the tour.

"Alright, tell me."

Dash glanced around at the guard pegasi, who had formed a wide circle around the helicopter and the group and were pretending not to listen. "Gonna need a biiiit more privacy than this. I hope you don't mind a short walk, cripple."

"Rainbow Dash!" scolded Glint.

"Right, right, 'creature of special ability' or whatever we call them these days."

"I can walk just fine," huffed Jameson. He nodded at the Delta operators. "One of you, with me. The other one, stay in the helicopter. Remain on standby."

A young, light-brown haired operator, stepped forward. Private Glint shook her head when she saw his gun. "No weapons, please. This is a friendly meeting!"

"Oh, right." The operator sheepishly handed his machine gun to his fellow soldier.

Rainbow Dash led the way into a thickly forested part of the park. It was slightly disorienting, knowing how high up they were and yet walking on a beaten dirt path in a dark forest.

As they walked, Glint fell a little behind Dash and spoke to the humans. "So, how do you like Manehatten so far? And our world, in general?"

Jameson opened his mouth to respond, but the operator cut him off. "I like it. It feels like we can do anything we want."

Glint glanced back at him. "Aren't you worried about the whole this-isn't-my-world part?"

"I've come from a war-torn, nightmarish hellscape into a peaceful world of talking horses and magic. I should be scared, but... there's so much potential here, so much to discover, and relatively little to worry about. There are things here that would help us build a better Earth, if we ever go back, and there's so much we can help you with. And- I can dream that I'm free."

Jameson grinned. "Loving that American spirit, soldier." He gave a small laugh.

But the operator's words had touched him. Jameson hadn't thought about it until now, but what waited for him back on Earth? A few more ceremonial tours as a Lieutenant Colonel, then retirement and a quiet death?

And, according to Lee, a behemoth-sized missile had been about to strike the carrier. At least everyone on the deck would have died instantly, if not for their miraculously timed teleportation to Equus.

He blinked, realising they stopped at a small clearing in the woods where the path ended.

Rainbow Dash faced Jameson. "Ready?" She wore a strange grin.

"Er, yes?"

"Good."

A flash of green fire engulfed Rainbow Dash's body for a moment before disappearing. In her place was an insect-like, horse-shaped creature, with glowing teal eyes, pitch-black, armour-like plates, and, for some reason, holes in its legs.

"What the-?"

Green light filled his vision.

???

Jameson found himself standing in a brightly-lit, stone-walled corridor lined with heavy metal doors, facing the insect creature from before. The operator and Private Glint were in the same position relative to him that they had been in the forest.

"...hell?" he finished.

He glanced around at Glint, but she didn't seem afraid or even confused, just slightly angry. The Delta Force operator was waiting for him to give an order.

"It's unsafe to teleport into corridors, Echicren! We have an access room for a reason," Glint scolded in a slightly annoyed tone.

"Oh... sorry, Glint." The insect's speech had a slight buzzing tone to it but was otherwise perfectly normal.

"So... mind explaining... all of this?"

Glint ignored him, instead of pulling out a notepad from her saddlebag. "Alright, we're a bit off-schedule. The Queen will be busy at the moment." She flapped her wings absent-mindedly. "She warned us not to take them to Aspen beforehand, but if we don't then we won't have the time before we have to return them. Don't try anything, soldier," she warned. The operator had reached his hand inside a pocket of his suit. He didn't take it out, but didn't move it either.

Jameson glared at her. "This looks very suspiciously like a kidnapping attempt. Explain."

The pegasus closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if mentally preparing herself. She opened her eyes "Right. Right. Lieutenant Colonel Jameson, you have no reason to trust me, but I promise there is a good reason for teleporting you here." Glint motioned to the insect-like creature standing next to her, who stared at Jameson. "This is a changeling."

"I've heard of those." Jameson eyed the changeling, wondering how exactly it 'stole love'. The creature was frightening at first glance, but behaved mostly harmlessly. He guessed that Rainbow Dash had just been a disguise.

"That's... I'm assuming you haven't heard very good things about them?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Well, they're honestly quite nice once you get to know them. They're not 'monsters of the dark' or anything, they just want to survive without being bothered. I mean, look at this adorable little critter!"

The changeling gave Jameson the puppy-eyes look. He sighed. "This 'adorable little critter' apparently just impersonated a hero of the nation and kidnapped the leader of a group of very angry men with guns."

"Don't worry, this isn't a kidnapping. You can return at any time."

"Then I choose to-"

"WAIT! Hear me out first!" Glint put on a determined expression. "The reason we brought you here, to the underground Outpost Asp was to meet the Queen. She wants to discuss... well, I don't know, but I assume it's diplomacy. It won't take long!"

Jameson stared at her, wondering if every single country on this planet was a monarchy. He noted that the changeling leader was a queen rather than a princess like with Equestria.

"You couldn't have just, I don't know, asked before teleporting us here?"

"Would you have agreed?" shot back Glint. "I wasn't going to risk you getting Echicren caught. You have no idea what the Royal Guard does to changelings."

Jameson huffed. He couldn't waste any more time on arguing. "Fine! Fine. I'll meet the Queen. Just remember, this is a Delta Force operator. He's one of the best of the best, and he won't go down easily," he warned. Then Jameson realised something about Glint's choice of words. "Wait, why do you keep talking as if you're not a changeling?"

Glint blinked. "Well, because I'm not."

"Oh? So why are you working with them?"

A slight red tint formed on the pegasus' face. "Nevermind that. The Queen will be here in a couple of minutes. Before that, you can meet our head researcher, Aspen. I'm sure he'll have some questions to ask you." She motioned to one of the closed doors. "In there."

Jameson walked to the door with the operator. As he went, he overheard Glint and Echicren talking.

"Did you have to use the Dash disguise?"

"It makes me look more honest!"

"You mean it's the only disguise you know. Spread out your impersonation skills!"

The door had no handle, but it swung open when he pushed it. It made a loud creaking sound.

Inside were two changelings in lab coats, and a group of four humans sitting on various stools. One of them stood up suddenly, giving out a shocked cry.

"YOU!"

He stared back confusedly. "...me?"

Joint American-Chinese Refugee Camp, Hamburg. 2028.

You want to go back? Sure. Hamburg, 2028. Not a particularly pleasant place and time to be, especially given my dislike of nukes. But it's important.

The irradiated ashes falling from the sky above a ruined Hamburg make a wonderful backdrop for the flashing cameras of the journalists at the refugee camp. They're held back by a line of stone-faced Chinese soldiers, guarding a large, hastily-constructed wooden stage. The journalists aren't interested in the rest of the camp, made of endless rows of military tents, ragged civilians, overworked aid workers.

Platoons of soldiers marching through, assigned to search for GLA operatives or to keep law and order. They're aided by the occasional Crusader or Paladin tanks. Both the infantry and the tanks were engaged in fierce fighting against the GLA just hours before, until the GLA detonated a dirty bomb and retreated.

They're interested in the brightly lit podium on the stage, which an important Chinese general has just stepped off.

Brigadier General Jameson the Fourth, escorted by a squad of heavily armed American soldiers, takes the podium. He clears his throat into the mike, and the crowd falls silent.

"Thank you, Marshal Feng, for your kind words to the European people. I will now be taking questions."

There's a rush as reporters wave their arms in the air, trying to make their voices heard.

"Yes- yes, you, the gentleman in the brown suit, at the front."

The crowd quiets slightly as the journalist shouts above the din, "Where is the GLA now? Will they be able to strike again soon?"

Jameson the Fourth considers his words carefully. "I wouldn't say that. Next question."

As he answers various questions about the state of the war-torn Germany and of the retreating GLA, storm clouds roll in. Lightning flashes across the sky. Soon, it is pouring, and the crowd and the soldiers are drenched. The conference goes on, however.

On the edge of the crowd, a pair of reporters stand. One of them holds a camera. They worry that they will be unable to get a good picture of the Brigadier General before the conference is over. Instead, they go down the line of soldiers till they reach an American squad, taking pictures where they can.

A voice rings out from one of the officers. "Don't answer any questions, men! Let the Brigadier General handle it."

One of the American soldiers is tying his shoes. As he stands up, he whispers to his partner, "What did the Sergeant say?"

The pair of reporters hear him. They swoop down like vultures, notepad and camera in hand. One of them directly addresses the soldier before the soldier's partner can respond.

"Hey, you! What do you think the GLA will do next? Where will they strike?"

The soldier stared back in confusion. "They won't? We've won, haven't we?"

A ray of light breaks through the clouds, shining from behind the soldier. The photographer snaps a photo and views it on the camera's screen.

It's heavenly. The reporters thank the soldier, and rush back to send the soldier's statement along with the amazing picture they've captured back to their newspaper.

They send the wrong photo, a view from the back of the crowd of the Brigadier General answering a question. The editor of the newspaper misattributes the quote to the Brigadier General, and has it printed on the front page alongside the photo.

Almost every single human on Earth will see the picture of an American officer giving what appears to be a fiery, inspiring speech, soldiers surrounding him and the ruins of Hamburg in the background. Almost every single human on Earth will know for sure that it was Brigadier General Jameson the Fourth who said the famous words, "We've won, haven't we?"

Including a young Russian boy in Vladivostok, far away from the nuclear explosions and chaos and war. He would remember that face as he marched to war in Europe, and as he rose rapidly through the ranks of the wartime Russian military to become Lieutenant Colonel Rujy.

Outpost Asp. August 7th, 2045. 6:54 AM

"But how?" muttered the young man who had spoken.

Jameson finally recognised the uniforms of the group of humans. The young man wore the tan uniform of a Russian soldier, and the insignia of his cap indicated seniority. The other three Russians were dressed in the arctic camo, which was highly out of place against the stone-and-wood structure of the building they were in.

Russians. Working with the Changelings.

"Ofcourse you'd be here," he snarled. He'd been a fool to trust the changelings after the warning that the Delta Force Captain had given them. "Operator?"

Nightmares. Shapeshifters. Love-stealing monsters. They think they can trap us here, but we won't go down without a fight.

"You take their officer, sir. I can handle the rest." The Delta Force operator pulled a knife out of his suit.

"Wait, wait there's no need to fight!" shouted Glint.

One of the lab coat changelings glared at her. "I'm not done yet! Get this rabble out of here!"

The Russian in the officers' uniform held up his hands. "Listen, let's all calm down and-"

Jameson leapt forward, swinging his crutch at the officer's head. The officer leaned back to dodge, but it hit him directly in the nose. He fell to the floor, clutching his face in his hands. Jameson leaned against a table to regain his balance.

The Delta Force operator was keeping the three other Russians at bay, who stood a wary distance away. Jameson hobbled over to the grounded Russian and aimed his crutch at his skull.

"Spir, stop them! Stasis spell!"

A wave of light burst through the room, and Jameson felt himself unable to move, no matter how much he struggled. It was as though he was encased in hard stone. He couldn't even breathe. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that everyone else in the room had frozen too.

One of the labcoat changelings rushed over and knocked the crutch out of his hand.

Jameson was able to move again. He crashed to the floor next to the Russian officer, gasping and wheezing for breath.

"Foal!" growled the other, older labcoat changeling. "You just put a stasis spell on everyone in a who-knows-how-large radius. This is a disaster! Echicren, take these other humans back, now! I'll get the Russians where they need to be. Spir, alert the outpost. Evacuate before Celestia comes crashing down on us, and may the Queen have mercy on you."

In a flash of green light, the changeling and the dazed Russians disappeared from the room. The other researcher, 'Spir', cantered out of the room, shouting "Alert! Alert!"

Private Glint had her face in her hooves. "This is such a disaster. Echicren, get them back, tell the pegasi I was called away for some important work. Americans, please forget any of this ever happened. I'll be seeing you tomorrow." She exited the room hastily.

"Well... I guess I'd better get you guys back. Sorry about the mess." Echicren's horn flashed green.

Manehattan City Park. August 7th, 2045. 6:58 AM

They were back in the woods again. Echicren's body flashed with green fire, which burnt away to reveal Rainbow Dash. "I'll fly ahead and explain the delay. Take your time."

'Rainbow Dash' beat her powerful wings, taking to the air and zooming off above the treeline.

The two Americans were left in silence.

"Lieutenant Colonel, what just happened?"

Jameson muttered, "I'm not entirely sure, but it seems we're not quite as free as you hoped. Let's get back. Double time."

The operator jogged patiently alongside Jameson as he moved as fast he could down the path. Within a minute, they were back in the wide open area where the helicopter was parked. The engine was already on, with the rotors blasting heavy wind at the nearby pegasi. Evidently 'Dash' had already informed the pilots to get ready.

He rushed to the helicopter and boarded quickly along with the other two operators, strapping himself into the seat and signaling the pilots to take-off. The pegasi quickly reformed their escort as the helicopter rose high above the city and made the short journey back to the USS Discord.

Jameson was too lost in thought to appreciate any of the sights.

Europeans, Russians, Changelings, and the Royal Guard. Jameson had no idea what each of these factions wanted, but they each posed a threat to his ship and his soldiers.

He was overwhelmed by an ominous feeling of foreboding.

The helicopter arrived at the ship and touched down without incident. Jameson had asked the pilots to radio some instructions ahead, and, sure enough, Lieutenant Commander Lee was waiting on the flight deck.

Lee didn't look particularly pleased.

"What have you learnt, Lieutenant Commander?" he asked as they walked briskly together towards the bridge. The deck was slightly more active than when he had left, with soldiers loading and sorting through supplies they had received from the Royal Guard.

Captain Emma Stone had a group of pilots and technicians surrounding her at a table covered with spreadsheets and papers. He guessed she had already started on organising their planned aerial transport venture.

"What have I learnt? I've learnt of a European military force stationed in Canterlot and of a potential conspiracy to replace you, that's what I've learnt."

"Fantastic. Let's talk about it in the cafeteria, I could use a meal."

Author's Note

Aaaaaaa I put all of the times in PM instead of AM by accident and just realised it a month later

Chapter 15/ECA: Taking Root

Take root, and grow! Stand tall and strong and proud! Embrace the wind!

Ambassadors' Wing, Canterlot Castle. 7th August, 2045. 10:38 AM

"Over here! Andrej, was it?" called out Shushie Hoofs, the earthpony from the Royal Guard journalist team, from further down the corridor of the Embassy area.

Andrej had spent the last couple of hours or so wandering the gardens of the castle alone, having nothing else to do. Half of his squad was on standby in case command needed them, while the other half was enjoying their downtime socialising with the ponies and the other ECA soldiers. Andrej didn't really know any of the soldiers, having just been assigned the week prior to the orbital outpost from which they deployed, so he supposed it was a good idea to get to know them.

He, however, needed time to think about the situation they had got themselves in. Andrej had spent much of last night lying awake, listening to the quiet snoring of his squadmates, wondering where they were or how they had got there.

He knew they weren't on Earth, that was for sure. From what the ponies had told them, the New World- as many of their fellow soldiers had taken to calling it- was split into three major continents and several tiny landmasses. There was Equus, which was primarily taken up by Equestria as well as other countries belonging to different species; Griffonia, split between a trio of massive griffon empires and several smaller communities; and Zebrica, the smallest continent, which lay to the south.

The New World was remarkably similar to home in both its landscape and its people. There were rivers and plains, forests and deserts, jungles and marshlands, just like on Earth. The society, at least of Equestria, was uncannily identical to Europe. Despite the obvious biological differences between the humans and the ponies, they shared the same societal norms, economic practices, customs, and even had large overlaps in culture.

Andrej suspected that there was a reason for this. It was possible they were no longer even in the same universe, but instead some sort of parallel dimension.

The thought of a billion dimensions in an infinite universe had made him feel incredibly small, as such thoughts usually do, but there was another layer to the dilemma that upset him. He wanted to go home- he HAD to go home, he had to win the war, he had to see his family- but he felt utterly insignificant against such a large force. Whatever had brought them here wouldn't care for the wishes of a single human.

They were stranded and it utterly frustrated him. The best they could do was simply try to keep up with the events rapidly unfolding around them, and survive.

But back to the present. He gave Shushie Hoofs a wary smile. The earthpony was standing next to a massive pinboard, with a tall ladder and a small metal box by his side. A large sign at the top of the pinboard declared 'Friendship Board'.

Andrej crossed the quiet corridor to the board. It was entirely deserted aside from a group of Royal Guards, the human and pony engineers, and a trio of European soldiers manning the makeshift security post next to the Leopard tank.

"Hello, Shushie Hoofs." He still couldn't get around the strange names of the ponies. "What's all this?"

Shushie Hoofs was pinning a large, fancy-looking paper near the bottom of the board. "An idea of Silver Hide's. Anyone- human or pony- can leave a friendly message or picture here. The point is to help us get to know each other."

The idea seemed childishly optimistic, but Andrej supposed there was some logic behind it. He read the paper Shushie Hoofs had just pinned up.

To all members of the ECA,
Greetings! We extend our warm welcome to you, and hope dearly that you feel comfortable and safe within the...

Andrej skipped ahead to the end. The lengthy letter was signed by Princess Celestia.

Shushie Hoofs noticed Andrej reading it. "The Princess liked the idea," he said proudly. "She wrote this document personally. And there's another letter..."

He picked up the other letter from on top of the box, frowning.

"'From the Cutie Mark Crusaders (We're learning diplomacy)'." Shushie Hoofs shrugged. "Must be a mistake." He tossed the letter to the side. "What do you think, Andrej?"

"It's quite an idea. A bit unusual for us, though," Andrej stated, inspecting the elegant frame of the board.

Shushie Hoofs stared at him in confusion. "What's unusual about it?"

"The whole 'friendship and harmony' thing in general. Isn't it a bit too optimistic?"

"It works, doesn't it? Everyone wants friends, and harmony is basically the goal of every society."

Andrej shook his head, backing away. He had been reminded of the stark differences between Earth and the New World. The ponies here were so friendly and innocent that it hurt to watch them interact, knowing that this was the society Earth could have had. "Not everyone wants to be friends. Not everyone can be friends. We tried, and look at where it got us."

Shushie Hoofs narrowed his eyes. "What happened exactly on Earth? I know there's a war going on, but that's basically it. Why are you so afraid of harmony?"

"What is harmony anyways?" Andrej was getting frustrated. It was like they were speaking two different languages; he was receiving entirely irrelevant questions. Well, two could play at that game.

The earthpony sighed, sitting down on the box and rubbing his forehead with his hoof. "Harmony. It's... not exactly a religion, more of a core belief of all ponies. Like universal morals, in a way. It's the idea that everyone and everything can get along, that there is always a favourable solution, and that working together is that solution."

"Sounds like communism," commented Andrej. He'd heard the exact same overly-optimistic ideals repeated in communist quotes listed in history books. Now he was genuinely curious about harmony.

"Don't- don't mention communism," warned Shushie Hoofs, wincing.

"What? Why not?"

"Something that happened in Stalliongrad a couple of decades ago. Communism has been a taboo subject ever since."

Andrej stared at the earthpony. "Stalliongrad?"

"Yes? That's a coastal city in the northeast, it's-"

"Stalliongrad... and it has something to do with communism..." muttered Andrej. Another similarity. There were too many coincidences, too many links between the two worlds for them to simply be planets in the universe. He blinked, shaking his head to focus. "Right, uhhhh... sorry for distracting you, Shushie Hoofs. I'll be on my way."

"Oh, right, I almost forgot. I called you over because a pegasus was looking for you. He said he'd wait in a garden just out front."

Andrej frowned. He had no idea why a random pegasus wanted to meet him. "Did he tell you why?"

"No, he just gave me his name. 'Bluewings' or something."

Ah. Of course.

The blue-coated pegasus was waiting patiently on a bench just outside the grand entrance to the Ambassadors' Wing, watching the exotic birds hopping from tree to tree. Andrej had noticed that the birds here were remarkably unafraid of the ponies and humans, not even flying away when they got close.

Andrej quietly sat down next to Bluewings. "Hello, Bluewings."

"Chief Corporal First Class Andrej," acknowledged Bluewings.

Andrej didn't recall telling Bluewings his rank.

"I've secured some possible funding for you. The Royal Canterlot University of Magical Technologies wishes to host a demonstration of your image-projection machine, and its ease of use for unicorns. If successful, they will provide you a decent grant and some engineers to help you roll it out across a limited section of Upper Canterlot," explained Bluewings in his aristocratic, slightly arrogant accent.

"That's fantastic, but I thought you were the one providing funds."

Bluewings winced. "My financial situation is... not ideal at the moment. I spent what money I could scrounge up on registering your company and renting out a small office space directly outside the walls, which was not cheap given its location."

"I... see. Thank you." Andrej meant it. The small project was moving much faster than he'd expected thanks to the work of the blue pegasus, with no work at all from Andrej himself. He had to remind himself of the 'favours' they owed Bluewings. "When's this demonstration?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning? I'll have to ask our tech wizard, Alex, about that, then. We don't really understand how any of this works. What if it suddenly explodes?"

"Don't worry, nothing of the sort will happen. You would... I shall speak to you later." Bluewings suddenly leaped up into the sky with a powerful beat of his wings.

Andrej looked up to see where the pegasus had gone, but he had disappeared over the wall. The sky was only occupied by a large team of thestrals pulling along a regular, mundane carriage through the sky. As Andrej watched in astonishment, the carriage descended on the other side of the castle, out of view.

"Weird," he muttered. He stood up, stretching, and decided to check on the active part of the squad. Just in case some sudden crisis had popped up in the past few hours.

After some asking around from both Europeans and ponies, he was directed to a small dirt field sheltered by the wall of the building on one side, thick, leafy trees on the others. What he witnessed made him sigh.

Harper, Janelle, Newbery, and Everard were facing off against Silver Hide, Blurry Flash, and another unicorn in a match of volleyball.

As Andrej watched, Everard accidently smashed the ball into Harper's face, leaving him spread-eagled on the ground. The ball passed over the net but was hit straight back by Silver Hide, who had leapt into the sky with her wings, and struck Harper in the face again. The two European soldiers in the audience groaned as the ball hit the ground, giving the pony team a point.

"Need help?" asked Andrej as he jogged onto the court on the human side. Harper grinned at him dazedly.

"Could use some, yeah."

"Hey, that's cheating! You guys have way more players," complained Silver Hide.

"And you have wings," retorted Andrej. Silver Hide grinned back at him.

He organised the team into a proper formation- Harper and him in the front, the other three at the back. They reset the score and began again.

After a couple of lost points, Andrej realised that the pony team's only weakness was their reliance on Silver Hide. She would cover the front, with her teammates hitting the ball high up in the air and allowing her to smash it from far up. It was impossible to tell where the ball would strike, and the speed at which it came barreling down made it difficult to strike.

However, without Silver Hide, the pony team had a severe height disadvantage. Although the unicorns usually hit the ball hard and accurately, they had to stand on their hind legs to hit some of the balls, which was inaccurate most of the time.

They just needed to stop Silver Hide from getting the ball. As Andrej smoothly hit the ball back over the net with his fingers, he noticed that the pegasus was hesitant to hit the volleyball if it was too close to the ground, instead preferring to maintain her height and let the unicorns handle it.

The ball came smashing back. This time Andrej took a risk and struck the ball gently, allowing it to slowly cross the net. Silver Hide waited for one of the unicorns to hit it, but the ball was too close to the net. It hit the ground.

The morale of the Europeans improved significantly as they tried the tactic again twice and succeeded both times. By the fourth try, however, Silver Hide had caught on, and folded her wings to dive down and butt the ball back across the net with her head. It flew towards Everard, who failed to hit it.

The following few rounds went exactly the same- Andrej eventually gave up on the tactic and tried others, but nothing worked. The pegasus was simply too agile. Eventually, the pony team scored their twentieth point, and they were forced to concede defeat. The two teams decided to rest before the next match, with the human team occupying a pair of benches by the court.

"Harper, you've got the brains. Can't you figure something out? There's got to be a way to beat pegasi at volleyball, otherwise the sport wouldn't exist here," commented Andrej as he slurped down some water. "And I think there must be some counter. If there isn't, the pegasi would be barred from using their wings, like the unicorns with their magic."

Harper nodded, rubbing his nose. He has taken several hits to the face already. "Good thinking. The only time we reliably scored points was when you tried that trick with Silver Hide."

"...hitting the ball low so she has to dive. But she started expecting it soon enough, so we can't do it again."

"I've got it." Harper smiled at Andrej in a way that told him the Corporal had already figured it out. "Why was Silver Hide so reluctant to just stay low?"

"So that she has a better angle for direct hits?" guessed Newbery.

"That too, but there's something else. The ponies behind her have a severe height disadvantage- so if a ball goes high enough to pass over them, but low enough to stay in the court..."

Andrej was catching on. "She has to block it."

"Exactly. So what happens if she has to dive to hit a low shot, and then immediately after gets a high shot?"

"There's not enough time to regain height. Thanks, Harper, you're a genius. Everyone, keep that in mind. Low shot, then a high shot, and be quick about it."

A couple of minutes later, the teams regrouped at the court. By now, a decent crowd had formed- ten or so bored European soldiers, and a few Royal Guards who had likely just finished their shifts. There was a single, lone Nightguard standing to the side too, his armour and fur coat blindingly dark in the late-morning sunlight.

The match began like the previous one, with the ECA team losing a couple of points almost immediately. But then, Andrej was able to get a good low shot. As expected, Silver Hide dived to return it, but Harper sent the ball flying straight back at a perfect angle. Silver Hide was unable to change direction quick enough to block it, and it sailed over the heads of the unicorns.

The tactic worked, and it worked well. The only issue was that they didn't always get the chance to apply it. Half an hour later, both teams were tied neck-in-neck at nineteen.

The crowd was silent as Newbery served the ball. It sailed over the net- once, twice, three times, until a well-placed hit by Everard brought the ball straight into Harper's hands. He sent it low over the net, and Silver Hide took the bait as usual, but this time immediately switched direction in anticipation of a high shot.

As the volleyball flew towards Andrej, Harper shouted, "Hit it low!"

He froze. Low or high? If he shot it low, Silver Hide would almost certainly be able to block it. If he hit it high, there was at least a chance of the ball getting through. However, Harper never called out shots without reason.

In the last moment, he flicked his hands and shot the ball low. Silver Hide executed a quick dive, reaching for the ball with one hoof...

And it slammed into the ground, kicking dust right into her muzzle. She pulled up and landed normally, wiping the dust off. "Oh, c'mon! I was this close."

After a few moments however, she congratulated the Europeans on their victory. A quietly cheering crowd- or rather, small group- escorted them to the fancy dining hall for a celebratory meal. There, they found their bleary-eyed squadmates, having just woken up for their shift, having breakfast.

After congratulations were said, only a small group of ponies and humans, including the volleyball teams, remained in the dining hall, chatting about various topics.

Andrej was mostly silent, preferring to stare outside the window and savour their close victory. He knew that such a petty thing as an unorganised sports match shouldn't have made him feel so good, but he supposed it was nice to have something going for them for once.

Eventually, the conversation around the large table went from sports to Earth.

"So, what's up with the war stuff going on there?" asked an overly cheerful Silver Hide. Most of the soldiers froze, giving each other uncomfortable glances. Andrej sighed.

"Guys, we're going to have to answer this question eventually. Better now than later, right?" There was a general mumble of reluctant assent. "Who wants to go first?"

No one did.

"You don't have to-" rushed Silver Hide, but she was cut off by Andrej.

"You all should know. You can tell the rest of the ponies this." He breathed in. "In 2039, Europe learned to harness the power of the Sun itself. Free electricity, as much as we wanted, forever. That same year, we ceased all coal and oil imports from Russia and the Middle East. Russia didn't handle this too well.

"They experienced the worst economic recession since... well, since ever. They had basically no money left to import food, clothing, all the other basic essentials. China and America were busy mopping up the GLA. Then, in 2044, the worst drought in the history of humanity struck Asia. Food shortages, riots everywhere... I suppose Russia had enough. They gathered up their army a couple of months ago, and rolled into Poland and Finland. We were powerless to stop them until the Americans arrived... we could only offer token resistance as our homes and farms were bombed and torn up by tank treads."

Andrej stared at his hands.

"I know they were scared. I know they were angry at being abandoned." He glanced out the window at leafy, shady trees outside. "But I can't forgive them. For bringing war back to my home."

The whole table stared at him. Silver Hide slowly stood up, trotted over, and wrapped her forelegs around him in a hug.

Andrej was glad to return it.

Author's Note

P.S: Make sure the read the Interludes, they are extremely important to the lore and you may be confused otherwises!

Chapter 16/GLA: Definitely Not An Insurgency

I know where the enemy is! They are somewhere to the East or the South or the West or the North of Baghdad.

[I'm a Ghost, not a God. I don't know everything. Don't expect me to tell you what I know, either. I'll give you the puzzle pieces, and you sort out the puzzle.]

???. August 7th, 2045. 11:32 AM

There was a stunned silence. The pony who had spoken- a charcoal-grey coated pony with a horn on its head, wearing rag-tag, regular workers' clothes- tilted his head to the side curiously.

"You can understand me, right?"

"Oh, just speak up already. Yes, we can understand you," groaned Pavlov from the floor. "Got a medic?"

Captain Linton nodded. "Priorities. We need medical equipment, if you have any. This soldier is wounded." He helped a soldier drag Pavlov onto a table in the corner of the room, keeping his distance from the ponies.

The grey coated pony raised a hoof. "Now, now, we can't let a sick... creature rest somewhere as uncomfortable as a wooden table. Come with me, we have accommodations." He glanced around at the few swords carried by the GLA soldiers. "And leave your weapons here. I promise you'll come to no harm- there's only us three here in the building."

Nodding in response, Captain Linton picked up Pavlov with the soldier and carried him up the short steps through the wooden door set in the wall, following the grey coated pony. The doorway was a bit short, and he had to duck his head to get through. The rest of the soldiers filed after them.

They came out into a large dining area dominated by a huge table that could easily seat the whole group, along with enough chairs for all of them. Linton noted with relief that the wooden chairs looked entirely normal.

They couldn't eat without a table, after all.

The walls were mostly bare, although there was a framed photograph showing an entire family of the pony creatures, smiling and waving at the photographer. Four doorways led out from the room, two at each end of the rectangular dining hall. A cramped stairway was set into the wall next to one of the doors.

The grey pony led them into a cramped, largely unfurnished room lined with empty beds. There were two windows with drawn curtains at the other end of the small room. Linton and the soldier set down Pavlov on the nearest bed.

"I'll be right back- I need to talk to my companions. Make yourselves comfortable, you could be here for a while. Medical supplies are in the cabinet." The door shut behind the pony.

None of the soldiers moved, looking to Captain Linton expectantly. He ignored them, instead opening the cabinet to find strange-looking bottles and various medical equipment. Linton chose the only familiar objects- a roll of bandages and a bottle of cleansing alcohol- and brought them to Pavlov. He handed them off to the soldier and chose a cot to lie on.

"Captain, please. This isn't the time to laze around," complained Sergeant Ahmed Woods in a frustrated voice.

"Why not?"

"We should be escaping, right? I'm sure one of those windows can open. We'll get out, and then-"

"And then what?" Linton stared at the ceiling, wondering about the mark he had seen on the flank of the grey pony. It was a colourful but simple picture depicting a half-open curtain letting in a ray of light from a window.

"And then... oh, godammit, where the hell are we?" Woods sat down on the opposite bed, holding his head in his hands. "This doesn't look like Earth. Who were those soldier horses? Who are these ones?"

"I don't mean to, like, ruin your flow, Woods, but I'm sure the Cap' has a plan. Let's just chill till those pretty ponies come back."

"Yeah... you're right, Ali. I trust you, Captain."

That was the cue for the rest of the GLA soldiers to disperse. Everyone found a bed for themselves or grouped up to discuss the events so far.

Linton simply closed his eyes and meditated until he heard the door open again a few minutes later. The same grey-coated pony entered, warily smiling.

"I see you're all comfortable here. Fantastic! We've prepared a meal for you. I hope it's... at least edible."

Linton led the way back into the dining room, where the table was laid with an impressive amount of various, recognisable foods, plates, cutlery, and even a couple of lit candles in stands. The electric lights had been dimmed.

Clapping his front hooves together, the pony announced, "Sorry for the poor choice of foods! It's all we could scrounge up on such short notice. Fiery Coat and Reeling Rifle are preparing desert. Till then, I will be your host. Please, sit down."

Linton shrugged and took a seat without hesitation. The rest of the soldiers followed suit, warily scrutinising the food. Sergeant Ali was just as relaxed as Linton, piling up his plate with bread and something that looked suspiciously like tofu. There was no meat available.

He took only a piece of bread, which he nibbled on as he listened to the pony speaking.

"Right, so- my name is Curtain Drawer. I'm the leader of this cell of the CPM, and thus was happy to provide you assistance when we noticed the Imperial Military looking for you. I'll explain more once you tell me- who are you all? What are you doing here, fleeing the government?" asked Curtain Drawer.

"I'm Captain Linton, of the Global Liberation. We're humans, from Earth, which I think is an entirely different planet from this one. As for how we got here... we don't know. We were... travelling... over Antarctica, an icy region of our planet, when we suddenly appeared in the mountains north of here."

Curtain Drawer's eyes widened. "Another world? I should have guessed as much- after all, random sentient species don't just appear from nowhere. How long have you been here? Did the Imperials catch you?"

"Just over a day. The Imperials, as you call them, had us under guard on a train. We escaped and ended up here."

Linton didn't see any harm in telling the strange pony all they knew. The 'CPM' seemed as though it was against the Imperial Military, judging from how they had helped the GLA hide. At the very least, they could question the pony about this New World they had found themselves in.

New World. That was a neat name.

He continued to answer the rapid-fire questions Curtain Drawer sent his way; about the GLA, Earth, the war, what they knew. He had to lie a little when questioned about his own past, but Curtain Drawer didn't seem to notice.

After a few minutes, Curtain Drawer seemed satisfied. He began answering various questions from the GLA soldiers, as the two other ponies- Fiery Coat and Reeling Rifle- brought more food and sat down themselves.

Over the next half an hour, they listened as Curtain Drawer explained the Crystal Protection Militia's purpose and origin, and some general knowledge about the world itself. Apparently it was formed only a few months prior to liberate the Crystal Empire from its overlord- a much larger and more prosperous country called Equestria, which was taking advantage of local resources and outdated industries in order to profit and exploit the population.

All of this was remarkably familiar to Linton- the story of every colonised nation that the GLA fought to restore the dignity of etc. etc.

There was something about the Crystal Empire 'reappearing' into the modern world that he didn't fully understand, but he guessed it was a metaphor of some sort. The CPM wanted to overthrow the royal family installed by Equestria and instead form a democracy.

"Most ponies are hesitant to sign up, though, because our last leader was much, MUCH worse than the current ones. They're content to accept a 'benevolent' Princess, even if it costs them their freedom."

"How much worse?" asked a soldier from the end of the table. Everyone had mostly finished eating, knowing they would be sick if they ate too much after over a day without food.

"Literal enslavement and mind control magic worse," explained Curtain Drawer with a serious expression.

"Magic?"

"Y'know, magic." An empty was surrounded by a watery grey glow and lifted itself up of its own accord, to the shock of the humans. "...I'm guessing you guys don't have that. A single race with no special talents, that's really weird."

"Wait, if you can use telekinesis," said Sergeant Woods, frowning, "why didn't the Imperial soldiers use it when they were fighting us, instead of their front hooves? Wouldn't it have been better than trying to swing a sword around in a train compartment?"

"Only unicorns and crystal ponies can use magic, so that rules out any earthponies or pegasi from Equestria- although they are uncommon here. Telekinesis is great, but it is not very strong or accurate. A poorly trained soldier could just as easily impale themselves as the enemy," explained Curtain Drawer.

"Mister Curtain? Who are you talking to-" A high-pitched, childish voice came from the stairway. Everyone glanced at it to see a small, dark grey-coated foal standing there, red-pupiled eyes wide.

"Not right now, Suffs! Reel, take him back upstairs."

The silent colt was ushered back up by a gentle but firm Reeling Rifle. Curtain Drawer smiled apologetically at Captain Linton.

"Sorry about that. That's Suffused Silhouette, but we call him Suffs for short. I think he's the son of some high-ranking officer or something, we're taking care of him for a few days since the main base is a lot more likely to get raided. Any more questions?"

The soldiers seemed mostly satisfied for now. Linton shook his head. "What do you plan to do with us now?"

"Ah, well..." Curtain Drawer seemed slightly uncertain for once. "We can't just let you stay here out of the good of our hearts, the upper echelons would find out eventually. And, trust me, you do not want to end being shuttled around their ethically-questionable research labs. We will not just throw you out and let you fend for yourselves, either. So, how about a compromise?"

"You want us to do something," guessed Linton. No one ever did something out of the good of their hearts. He was ready to accept almost anything, though- there was no way they could sneak out from this hideout without alerting Imperial Military, especially considering it was apparently set on a main road. The Imperials would be searching the back routes too after their quick escape.

"The CPM needs all the help it can get. How does this sound- your men do some basic, perfectly safe errands while you stay here. You all can leave at any time, or when we've figured out some nice, remote area to send you to. I've heard the penguins are looking for skilled immigrants."

"The what?"

Curtain Drawer ignored Pavlov, who had spoken up from the doorway to the 'barracks'. He was looking better already with some actual medical treatment.

"We just need you to do things like delivering supplies, messages, or watching out for Imperial Military soldiers."

Linton raised an eyebrow. "Suspiciously good offer aside, we can't exactly wander about the streets as humans, can we?"

Grinning, Curtain Drawer got to his hooves and opened a drawer. He took out five strange gold necklaces, each with a pendant displaying the head of a buglike creature. "I was hoping you would ask that. Here we have specially made transformative amulets, shipped straight from Canterlot! They use changeling magic, or so I'm told, to create a visual and physical illusion of a random pony. We use it whenever we go outside, being wanted fugitives with highly recognisable Cutie Marks. Not sure if it'll work on you humans, but it's worth a shot."

"I'll try it on," Linton offered before anyone else could. He wasn't going to risk his soldiers to some strange 'magic'. Curtain Drawers carefully handed one of the amulets to him as he stood up from the chair.

"If you feel weird, take it off immediately. It works on griffons and yaks, but your body could be simply too different."

Linton put on the amulet.

Nothing happened.

"Oh, right, you have to sort of- will the amulet to work? It's hard to describe."

Amulet, do something.

Still, nothing. He thought for a moment. Willing something wasn't the same as wanting or asking for it. It was similar to moving one's limbs, he guessed. He just had to pretend the amulet was a muscle of his body-

And, just like that, Linton got it. His perspective had suddenly shifted to much lower than normal, but he didn't feel anything particularly different...

...except for his arms now being legs with hooves attached to them. He looked down, raising his hooves to inspect them, only to fall over forward.

"You said this would just be an illusion, Curtain Drawer," Linton complained.

"Well- it makes you a pony in everything but attributes. No magic can simply make you stronger, or give you abilities. Imagine it as... wearing a costume."

Linton accepted the explanation and inspected himself in the mirror by the 'barrack's door.

He had become a lime-green coated pony with bright orange eyes and white marks close to his hooves. He turned and saw that his Cutie Mark- which according to Curtain Drawer was an indicator of a pony's special talent or qualities- displayed an empty, barren field, barely visible against his coat.

"Captain...?" said Sergeant Ali uncertainly.

"Yes, Sergeant?" Linton's voice seemed

The Sergeant had lost his exaggerated American-hippie accent for the first time in years. "How in God's name did your Russian uniform turn into a horse one?"

And so it had. The thick, winter uniform he was wearing had the same blue-brown camo pattern of the Russian VDV, but there were now shoulder pads with the GLA insignia, and green streaks on the sleeves.

"That's... new," he murmured. His backpack had also transformed into two bags on either side of his barrel, within easy reach of his front hooves.

"Magic is not a mindless machine. It adapts to the situation," explained Curtain Drawer, walking around Captain Linton. "Hmmm... wearing those uniforms out in the open should be fine, they look similar to what maintenance workers wear, especially in winter."

With a bit of struggle due to the awkwardness of the hooves, he shook off the amulet. In an instant, he was back in his human form.

"Your uniform is, like, still all rebellious. I like the vibes," noted Ali, back in his weird accent. Linton looked down and, sure enough, his Russian uniform had kept the GLA insignia and green streaks.

"How did it feel, 'Captain'?" asked Pavlov from the doorway. He had opted not to take a seat at the table.

Linton thought for a moment. "A little strange, but not as much as I expected." He had some strong suspicions that their host had rushed the whole introduction along because-

"I will admit, there is something I need your men to do right now."

Aaaand there it was.

"Go on."

"It's not dangerous, and Fiery Coat will be with you-"

"Get to the point."

"-and, after all, no reason in delaying-"

"Yes, yes, we agree."

"-but ofcourse, you can always turn it down if you'd like to rest-"

"Curtain Drawer," interrupted Woods firmly after Linton's failed attempts. The pony looked up, startled. "Soldiers, raise your hands if you volunteer to go on Curtain Drawer's mission."

Every single hand went up, including Pavlov's, surprisingly.

"See? No one knows what they have to do, but they're prepared to do it. This is what we do, Curtain Drawer. We are..."

"...the vanguard..." continued another soldier.

Private Aleksander picked up the chant. "...the unwavering voice of the oppressed..."

"...for we believe in a future where justice and freedom prevail..."

"...no matter the odds," finished Sergeant Ali somberly.

"That is... quite a motto. I must thank you profusely for being so trusting. The world you come from must be one better than this one. If only ponies had such faith and harmony..." Curtain Drawer's tone became businesslike. "We only have five amulets, and Fiery Coat will need one, so only four of you will go. The mission is very simple: in an hour or so, an arms supplier will be waiting a few blocks away with some rifles. You just need to keep a lookout for Fiery Coat, and help him bring the rifles back."

"You guys have rifles?" Corporal Hugo, their sniper, perked up. "How do you even use them?"

"Telekinesis, or standing on our front hooves- kind of like with the swords. They're not very popular, though. A bit too heavy and unwieldy, and they do not always fire. Most ponies prefer a good, reliable sword or battle axe."

Interesting. Perhaps they could provide some pointers on how to improve the guns.

"When do we leave?" asked Linton.

"Now."

"Now?" sputtered Woods. "We're half dead on our feet, we just ate, and-"

Linton interrupted him. "Sergeant Ali, choose three men. You're leading the mission."

"You got it, Captain."

Ali, now a hopefully-nondescript purple-coated crystal pony, carefully walked- trotted?- after Fiery Coat out the front door of the hideout. They stepped out onto a wide stone street that sloped upwards to the right. It was lined with terraced houses, similar to ones in rural Europe. There were a few more ponies in various clothes and a single bored Imperial soldier walking along the street, but no one paid them any mind.

"This way." Fiery Coat guided the group to the right. "I'll walk some distance ahead to make it look like I'm not with you. The four of you, just stay in a group and occasionally chat or something. If you get separated somehow, make your way back to the safehouse."

"Got it."

As Fiery Coat had instructed, the GLA soldiers fell behind a little. The slower pace helped them get used to walking around with hooves.

Ali tensed up as a duo of Imperial soldiers marched past, but they were entirely ignored. It seemed that Curtain Drawer had been right about the uniforms not drawing much attention.

Speaking of the uniforms, they had gained the same makeover that Captain Linton's uniform had. They were a lot nicer than the usual GLA uniforms, if a bit too warm for the temperate climate.

After a few minutes of casual walking, they arrived at some sort of commercial district. The houses were replaced by stalls and shops with glass storefronts. There were more ponies here, but still much less than Ali had expected.

He spotted Fiery Coat turning into an alleyway between the shops. The soldiers picked up the pace to catch up.

A little way down the tiny alley, just out of sight of the street, Fiery Coat was speaking to a rough, old-looking earthpony. The earthpony's eyes widened at the sight at the GLA soldiers, but Fiery Coat explained, "They're with me."

The earthpony growled. "Bits. Now."

Fiery Coat handed the earthpony a few large, gold coins. "And the rifles?"

"In the dumpster. Good luck." The earthpony left the alley.

Ali opened the dumpster at Fiery Coat's nod. Sure enough, inside were about thirty strange-looking rifles. They were more akin to Interwar semi-automatic rifles than the modern assault rifles of Earth, and instead of a small trigger with a guard had a much a larger, broader one that he guessed was easier for ponies to use.

"Load up your saddlebags. Six guns each."

They did so with only a little struggle- the rifles were heavy and long, but fit easily in the saddlebags.

"Why do you need, like, thirty guns if there's only three of you? Not that I'm against having ten guns a person, the more the merrier."

"Most of these are being passed on to larger cells," explained Fiery Coat. "I hate to give money to Equestrian arms dealers, but we need the guns and they have reasonable prices."

As they entered the main street, Ali noticed it was much, much busier than before. Lunchtime, he guessed. The wide variety of ponies- mostly crystal ponies, but there were some earthponies, pegasi, and regular unicorns too- browsing the shops, haggling at stalls, or being served meals seemed well-off for a supposedly occupied country, but he supposed this was a richer area.

They made it back to the hideout without incident, surprisingly, and dropped off the rifles with an extremely thankful Curtain Drawer. Ali was glad to be back in human form, though- the pony form was seriously weird.

They sat around the table and discussed future plans while Curtain Drawer explained more aspects of pony society and ideology. Linton was notably absent- apparently he was resting in the barracks.

After about an hour, Ali decided to join him. It had been over a day since any of them had slept, and his head was starting to spin.

Ali entered the dark room, closing the door behind him.

"Back into the fire, huh, Captain?"

"Back into the fire," agreed half-asleep Linton from under a thick blanket in a bed at the end of the room.

West Crystal City Station, Crystal City. August 7th, 2045. 11:45 AM

Talcite waited patiently as Alpha trotted along the busy train platform towards her with deadly calmness. They were in West Crystal City Station, a massive, fifteen-platform station built in the time of King Sombra. Despite its size, it was packed with waiting ponies from all over the world, being a central transit hub for the city.

Med had whisked away heavily injured Intel to a Special Forces base somewhere in the city before any medical personnel- Imperial or civilian- started asking questions. Meanwhile, Talcite had been left to face the wrath of their team members. she had disembarked from the train quickly with the Imperial soldiers carrying their dead comrade, initially planning to escape, but had eventually realised that it was better to face the consequences now rather than later.

She took a physical step back as Alpha loomed in front of her. Talcite had seen him angry before, but this was different. He seemed unusually calm and composed.

"Comms."

"Alpha."

"You let them get away."

Talcite shrugged. "I couldn't have stopped them. I'm a communications officer, not a soldier."

"You could have delayed them. You know S-1 and S-2 were on their way. Instead you stopped to help Intel."

"How can you be mad at me for that?"

Alpha kept his calm, cool composure. "You compromised your objective in order to help a fellow team member in a non-life-threatening situation, yet you left another soldier to die alone from his wounds."

Oh, that was low. Talcite was at a loss for words. If Alpha was trying to make her feel guilty, then it meant...

"Comms, the world needs good ponies. Special Forces doesn't." Alpha's tone became warm, almost pitying. "Leave Special Forces, Comms. Enjoy the world."

"No..."

"The order came in. You are officially discharged. Seeing as you had no official gear on you, you don't need to report to HQ. Your discharge pay will be mailed to you."

"No..." Her head swam. This wasn't happening. She hadn't come all this way, struggled through a year of harsh training just to fail on her first mission before it even started. "Nononono..."

"I understand this can be a shock- Talcite? Talcite!"

Huh, he knows my name. That was her last thought as her legs buckled under her and she fell unconscious.

Author's Note

Sneaked in a little reference there to another video game :)

Chapter 17/Russia: Last

I need a thousand labourers working around the clock for a hundred days, and we shall have our forts. There will be no step on our snieg!

Somewhere else. Could use a name.

It was the same as before. Green magic, dark red magic, and more green magic in Rujy's hands.

Compared to Aspen's horn, his hands were extremely pale, with only a slight green shade.

Right. Don't panic this time. What can I do?

He could feel the changeling's magic emanating outwards continuously, being absorbed by... he couldn't tell what, exactly. By contrast, the dark red glow of the other humans was static and viscous, sticking firmly to their bodies.

Experimenting a little, Rujy grabbed a tiny part of the changeling's magic. He could feel time running out, so he simply observed as a bright white light engulfed them.

[Reminds me of myself in a way. So foolish and trusting of the unknown, so willing to experiment. It will have consequences, though.]

Sector 4, Stalliongrad Industrial Complex. August 7th, 2045. 6:58 AM

"Move it over here, to the left! No, the other left! Your left!"

The shouting sounded like that of a Russian.

Rujy, the three medics, and Aspen had appeared in a small, protected alcove behind one of the warehouses, surrounded by large boxes and crates cleverly placed to look like disorganised clutter yet completely protect the small space from view.

The changeling was scribbling something on his notepad. He hurriedly tore off and folded a couple of pages with his front hoof and pressed it into Rujy's hand.

"You, human. This must get to Princess Twilight Sparkle- I don't care how many months or years it takes, but it must get there. Remember that name very carefully. Princess. Twilight. Sparkle. Tell her it's from Aspen. The fate of the changeling race relies on this. Don't give it to the Royal Guard, and especially not to the Stalliongrad government. I have to go now- the Royal Guard must already be teleporting into Outpost Asp, the stasis spell would have alerted Princess Celestia. I must secure my research. Goodluck, humans."

"Wait-" The changeling disappeared in a mild flash of green light. "Oh, dammit." Rujy had no idea who this Twilight Sparkle was, whether she was a changeling or a pony, or how to get to her. He tucked the pages into his coat.

"You three, not a word about this. We don't want any panic spreading. I'll confide in dedushka myself. Understood?"

"Yessir!" replied the three medics.

The group carefully exited the protected space. They were in a small alley wedged between two rows of warehouses. From one side, Rujy could hear shouted orders and conversation. It sounded like the fighting had stopped.

"This is a convenient place to teleport to," he quietly observed as he led the way around the side of the warehouse. Each warehouse was a huge, decently tall brick building topped off with a slanted roof with large windows to let daylight in.

"I don't like this whole pony business, Lieutenant Colonel. The changelings and the Nightguard especially seem kind of suspicious. What, they just randomly found us in the middle of nowhere, and a full plan ready to sneak us and our equipment into Stalliongrad? I don't buy it." Alekzander shook his head.

Rujy didn't answer as they stepped out of the alley into the noisy, busy wide 'street' between this row of warehouses and the next.

The warehouse that they had previously been residing in was entirely burnt down, now just a pile of still-smouldering debris and ashes that a group of Russian soldiers was picking through. Hastily erected canvas tents on the street formed a haphazard field camp, with soldiers moving between the tents, sometimes carrying medical equipment or structures. A large quantity of guns, ammunition, tools, and other military equipment lay on a tarp in the open air. It was guarded only by a trio of half-asleep soldiers.

Their vehicles were lined up in a row in front of one of the warehouses, soot and ash being cleaned off of them.

A frighteningly large contingent of a few dozen Royal Guard soldiers two warehouses down the street formed a perimeter keeping civilians and what seemed to be a militia armed with crude rifles and pitchforks at bay. Captain Artimey and Captain Rolan were nearby with a large escort of Russian soldiers, deep in conversation with two ponies- one dressed in fancy military apparel and the other in plain but clean work clothes. There were more Guards and militia around the ponies.

The medic squad dispersed. Rujy decided that the conversation going on seemed to be the most pressing matter, and warily approached the small crowd. The nearest Russian soldiers saluted and gave way, relief etched on their faces. He stepped through the crowd and hovered uncertainly near Captain Artimey, listening on as the two unicorns argued with each other.

“I will remind you to respect our autonomy, your grace, High Coat.”

High Coat huffed. “Equestria takes care of foreign policy and military matters. This appears to be both.”

The other unicorn smiled slightly. Both of the unicorns were similar in appearance, with the same pristine white coat of fur and about the same height. They were, ofcourse, much shorter than the humans.

“Ah, but do they form a sovereign and internationally recognised nation?”

“Don’t get technical with me, Grey Coat-”

Grey Coat appeared not to hear. “And, thus, they are refugees, are they not? And this area-” He motioned around at the field camp and surrounding warehouses. “-is a refugee camp. To imprison or dislocate these refugees which we have accepted would constitute an overreach of the Equestrian government and break our treaty. Do you really want that, your grace?”

From his position, Rujy could see a trickle of sweat running down Grey Coat’s muzzle. The unicorn was stressed but trying not to show it, compared to the stoic and entirely impassive face of High Coat.

The two unicorns stared each other down. Finally, High Coat sighed.

“I’ll contact my superiors. We will speak again in, let’s say, five minutes. Hopefully, with the presence of the Russian commander.” He glared at Artimey, who simply tipped his hat respectfully. The two unicorns marched off in separate directions- High Coat surrounded by Royal Guard, and Grey Coat by militia.

Artimey finally noticed Rujy. “Ah, Lieutenant Colonel! We were getting worried. We thought you may have been kidnapped by those bat horses.”

Rujy grimaced. “Your guesses weren’t far off.” Artimey raised an eyebrow. “Later. For now, er- what do we do?”

Captain Artimey waved off their escort of soldiers, leaving just him, Rujy, Rolan. “You’re the Lieutenant Colonel.” He gave Rujy a hard stare.

Rolan watched the exchange with a small grin, like a shark waiting to bite off a large chunk of flesh. Rujy supposed he hadn’t been very Lieutenant Colonel-y so far.

“Ah. Right. Well… report on the situation, Captain.”

“Yes, sir. The fire from the explosion our engineers caused spread much more violently than they anticipated. The gas lines probably ruptured. We began pulling out the injured and whatever equipment we could from the warehouse.

“It seems that the void creatures were unable to cross outside the building when dawn arrived, so we just waited as the heat devoured them. Then the other warehouses began catching fire, and the Stalliongrad fire department finally arrived and directed us to help.”

Artimey shook his head appreciatively. “If only Soviet Russia had more men as brave and strong as those earthponies. They asked no questions, went right down to business. Meanwhile Duke Important over there arrived with a lot of Royal Guards- which would have been helpful much, much earlier- and started asking questions. I pointed him to the Nightguard, who he argued with until Grey Coat showed up.

“From what I can tell, Grey Coat is an important member of the Stalliongrad government- which is the autonomous government of this region, that gained partial independence a couple of decades ago but is still occupied and 'protected' by the Royal Guard. Messy, messy politics.”

Rujy winced. Dedushka’s explanation added context to the argument from earlier, and it looked like the Russians were caught between two opposing groups. Not good in the slightest.

“What’s the status of the wounded?”

Artimey’s voice turned grim. “Two more passed since you left. The rest are stable, but it’s all hands on deck for the medics, and no one has had more than two hours of sleep since yesterday.”

Rujy swallowed. “What are our numbers? And the status of our equipment?”

“493 in total, with 57 injured. We have ten Mishkas, Wolverines, and Grizons, and four Maulers. Our current equipment is sufficient to arm about 700 infantry, so we have no problem in terms of weapons. Food, fuel, water, and medical supplies will last at least a couple of weeks. Alcohol is running out. We left most of our heavy equipment and electronics back at the crash site, but I sent a squad to go fetch it in a pair of Maulers. None of the ponies stopped them.”

Seeing High Coat returning out of the corner of his eye, Rujy asked hurriedly, "Anything else I should know?"

"Not much. I'll go now to see if anyone needs me. Just... be careful of what you say- this may be an informal meeting, but your words will be noted. Our priorities right now are a place to stay, and some way of getting essential supplies. We can figure out getting back home after that. Good luck, Lieutenant Colonel!"

With that, Artimey hobbled away towards the tents. Rolan stopped, looking like he wanted to say something, but eventually followed Artimey.

"Oh, where have they gone off to now?" grumbled High Coat. He was joined a second later by Grey Coat. Both of them only had a duo of guards each backing them up this time. Rujy hoped this meant that they were more willing to talk cooperatively.

"You won't be needing Captain Artimey, uh, your grace. I am Lieutenant Colonel Rujy, commander of the Volki. Good to meet you." If there was one thing Rujy was good at, it was talking smoothly. He just needed to fill the conversation with empty pleasantries until he could figure out what exactly each of the unicorns wanted.

"Finally! I was starting to think that the fabled Lieutenant Colonel would never show up."

"Good to meet you too," responded Grey Coat more politely. "And welcome to Stalliongrad. I'm deeply sorry that we couldn't show you a better welcome."

"Ah, do not worry about it. I wish you didn't have to see us in such a state."

"Right, right, to business. What do you intend to do with them, Grey Coat?" High Coat's voice was strangely stressed, compared to his cool demeanor before.

"As I said before- offer them refugee status and allow them into this refugee camp. What did your superiors say?"

High Coat turned directly to Rujy. "Lieutenant Colonel, you are granted asylum in Equestria. Your men will be processed and eventually offered full citizenship, if you wish. We can arrange other terms, too."

Grey Coat's brow furrowed. "What? But they're refugees-"

"And so they may choose if they want to stay here, or take refuge in Equestria. Such is international law." High Coat gave a cold smile. "What do you say, Lieutenant Colonel Rujy?"

Rujy was entirely lost here- he didn't trust the Royal Guard from how the Nightguard had reacted to their raid, but he knew next to nothing about either the Royal Guard or Stalliongrad. He had no idea what would be done with the Russians if he chose either option. An idea formed in his head.

"Does the offer still stand if we choose to stay in Stalliongrad?" he asked High Coat.

"Well... yes, I suppose so."

Rujy turned to Grey Coat. "And, if we stay here, are we free to leave at any time?"

"Ofcourse. We can't exactly keep you trapped here, but if you do leave, it will have to be quick. No offense, but you could be a threat to our civilians."

Rujy genuinely smiled. He finally felt in control for the first time in the chaos of the past few hours. "Then it's settled. We will make our home in Stalliongrad- for now."

Unnamed Special Refugee Camp, Sector 4. 8:16 AM

"A bulletproof vest at all times, and two bodyguards," instructed Captain Artimey to one of his officers. "We can't risk the safety of the Lieutenant Colonel- if anything seems off, they are to block the line of sight of any Stalliongrad gunponies. Understood?"

"Yes, sir! I'll arrange it immediately."

As the officer left the command tent via a flap at the front, Rujy sighed. "Again, is this strictly necessary? Those are two less men for more useful tasks."

"This doesn't feel right. Stalliongrad has a perimeter of ponies practically corralling us in, as if they're waiting to invade. A firing line, of sorts."

"Invade?" scoffed Rujy. "They have, what, two dozen ponies? And only half of them have rifles. The rest just have random shovels and pickaxes. These aren't well-trained soldiers, these are random workers they picked off the street. No, this is their poor attempt at security, not intimidation."

The two men were hunched over a small table scavenged from one of the warehouses, sharing a box of rations. Biscuits and stale bread didn't make for the best breakfast, but Rujy downed it down anyways. Captain Artimey had already finished his portion and was going over a large document on the history of Stalliongrad. The 'command tent' was fairly spacious, but entirely unfurnished except for three chairs and two tables. A group of officers surrounded another table, planning out perimeter security.

At Grey Coat's insistence, High Coat's Guards had withdrawn quite quickly. Grey Coat himself had only exchanged a few pleasantries with Rujy and promised to provide medical supplies as soon as possible before leaving. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Afterwards, Rujy had sat down Captain Artimey and Rolan and summarised the events of his sort-of kidnapping. There were few questions- he guessed the two men considered it just another crazy, unexplained part of the new world.

After a few minutes, Rujy stood up and stretched his arms. "Let's take a walk, dedushka?"

"If you say so, Lieutenant Colonel."

The two stood up and exited the tent. The little field camp formed a semicircle on the road, consisting of a command tent, supply tent, three barracks- hardly enough to fit forty men, let alone five hundred- and two infirmaries. A group of soldiers was lugging in a small radar array, which they brought into the supply tent.

"What's the electricity situation?" asked Rujy.

Artimey frowned. "We tried hooking a computer up to the heavy outlets in the warehouses. It blew instantly. The engineers attached a resistor first, they thought the voltage may be too high- same issue. All of the meters don't function either. They're currently working on the issue, but don't expect results."

Rujy stopped in front of the large main door to another of the warehouses. It was entirely empty inside, but he couldn't see into the small office area that each warehouse had. He guessed it was unfurnished too, though.

"Portable generators?"

"Good idea. I'll see if the recovery squad got any from the crash site. Oh, speaking of the recovery team- they pulled all of the fighter jets that they could back onto the beach with the Maulers. The cargo planes are still there, too. We can go back at any time to see if they're functioning."

Rujy nodded appreciatively. "Good to have an escape route."

"Rujy... what's our plan exactly?"

He stopped and breathed in. He had expected this question, sooner or later.

Rujy had asked it himself, and he was afraid to answer it.

"I don't know."

Artimey simply nodded. He put his hand on Rujy's shoulder.

"Lieutenant Colonel Rujy. You are young, and I am old and experienced. We both know this. And, so far, I have acted in only an advisory capacity."

This was sounding suspiciously like the start of a declaration of mutiny.

"And I will continue to do so. You have great potential, Lieutenant Colonel. You just need direction and opportunity." Artimey spread his arms wide. "Here is your opportunity! There are no superiors here, no corruption, no internal strife to stand in the way of a new Russia! We can build a harmonious and prosperous society here, protected from our enemies, the way we see fit! Doesn't it fill you with strength and determination? Shake off the sins of your fathers, and of theirs, and strive for peace and greatness, Lieutenant Colonel Rujy!" The old man stopped, short of breath. "I need to- huff- stop giving big speeches."

Rujy wasn't sure where Artimey had gotten this sudden inspiration, but it was infectious. His mind was filled with endless possibilities and ideas on how to help their men and develop their little camp. "You are right, Captain. We can do this! One step at a time."

He led Artimey back quickly to the command tent, where a large group of officers had gathered with Captain Rolan.

"Ah, Lieutenant Colonel. I was about to send for you. We've finally drawn up a perimeter security plan. Should I explain it or...?"

"Captain," nodded Rujy. "And officers of the Volki. The security plan can wait. I have a more important plan to discuss. Someone, grab a notepad, and be our secretary. This is our first meeting in the field.

"Our mission hasn't changed. We were sent to investigate and possibly build a temporary research base for the next couple of weeks in Antarctica. Although we have no support or advice here, what we want to do is basically the same- construct a camp with all the basic facilities that we need for long-term survival. We have more than enough space- four warehouses and the area between them- and hopefully access to all basic supplies from the Stalliongrad government. We will not survive here, no, we will thrive while we gather information about this New World and try to find a way to get back to Earth. That is our long-term goal!

"We will start by sorting out command. If I recall correctly, each of you were assigned civic duties in addition to your military roles, right?"

"Yes, sir," responded one of the officers. The rest remained silent, clearly unsure where this was going.

"Name your roles in turn, please. Clockwise around the table, starting from my right."

"Communications and pay assurance, sir."

"Medical services."

"I take care of food and water."

In total, they had twelve people responsible for some civic part of the base. Rujy assigned security to one and foreign relations to another, bringing it up to fourteen.

"I need all of you to make a report on whether the needs you're responsible for are being addressed, and how to solve any related issues. Our first priority is getting the very basics of each department up, and then building on top of that in the future. Let us discuss what we need the most right now."

An officer raised his hand. The engineer company head, if Rujy remembered correctly. "We have plenty of interior space available in the warehouses. They have indoor lighting, heating, and one of the warehouses is full of general furniture and construction materials like brick and cement. We could throw up some interior walls, build proper living and work spaces for everyone. It wouldn't take too long, either- maybe a week or two, at most a month if we're being fancy."

"Is that really a priority right now?" argued another officer. "We need to get everyone rested, and the injured treated, before we start giving the men heavy manual labour to do."

The engineer raised his hands defensively. "I was just throwing out a suggestion."

"We need assurances that this 'Stalliongrad' government will actually give us the essentials we need. Do we even know if ponies eat regular food? They could be grass eaters for all we know."

"Don't worry about that, officer. Focus on the things we can affect," intervened Rujy. The conversation was going in a direction that he didn't want it to- back towards uncertainty and factors out of their control.

"I say we start by dividing personnel into each 'department', instead of directly adhering to the command hierarchy. That way, everyone can work on their projects," suggested someone at the back of the tent. No one objected, so Rujy grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper and noted it down.

It seemed the others were more emboldened by this successful idea, and the suggestions now came much faster. It ranged from practical ideas- mostly from the engineer head- like setting up a proper electricity system throughout the warehouses, to farfetched things such as providing a cargo transportation service to the ponies- which was, ofcourse, utterly ridiculous and something no sane person would consider.

One idea interested Rujy.

"It'll be harder for Stalliongrad to just chuck us out or encroach on our land if we build a wall. Nothing impressive, just a brick wall with a couple of guard platforms. Make it clear where our territory starts, and that we're ready to protect it."

"Not really high priority, but I will note it down. Any objections?"

No one had any. Rujy waited for more suggestions, but it seemed that the well of ideas had finally been drained. He looked over the perimeter security plan, but it didn't seem vital enough to warrant a full meeting.

"Well, I suppose that will wrap it up. Thank you for coming, everyone, and goodluck. Use the rest of this day to make your reports, collect information, and get the men rested. Tomorrow, we begin! Dismissed."

As the officers filtered out of the tent alone or in pairs, Captain Artimey sidled up next to Rujy.

"I'm impressed."

"Hm?"

"You aren't normally so commanding and focused. Did old man Artimey's speech finally get through to you?"

Rujy gave a small grin.

"Not quite just that. This... well, I realised that no one else is going to take charge. We are in a tight situation. The slightest error could be disaster. I do not understand what the Nightguard, or the Royal Guard, or the changelings, or Stalliongrad, or the Americans want, but it seems we are just pawns in a game of chess. Well, we'll give them a damn good match. What we need is hope, and progress, and focus. And I think... I think I can give people that."

Captain Rolan butted in. "You forgot one thing, though, Lieutenant Colonel."

"That is?"

"A name for this little experiment of yours, of course."

Rujy shrugged. He was still trying to figure out Rolan- why the soldier put in so much effort, and yet was so disdaining and unfaithful in Rujy. At first he had thought it was because of his own incompetence, but now he wasn't entirely sure.

A name, hm...

"How about... Krylya?"

"Krylya, hm?" considered Artimey. "I like it, it rolls off the tongue well."

Rolan shook his head, but he was smiling. "Fine, then. Welcome to Krylya! Possibly the first human colony on this New World, and the last."

Interlude: War in the Heavens

Oh, our bombs and cannons do tarnish this lovely night sky... fire again!

The Dream Realm. Timeless.

A blue-coated alicorn wearing a tiara was tumbling through the darkness with a similar alicorn wearing a suit of armour.

"Hey, Lulu.," mocked the armoured alicorn with a grin, before her expression became serious. "We need to talk."

"You're asking to talk, Nightmare? No, thanks." Luna unfolded her wings, transitioning the tumbling freefall into a graceful descent. Nightmare matched her movement like a shadow.

"It's about the humans."

"The ones you tried to murder, along with my poor ponies?"

Nightmare Moon waved it off. "Nothing personal, just my latest attempt to take over the world."

[Was the murder attempt really necessary? The Russians did lose some people, you know.]

"Major!" cried out Luna and Nightmare, one relieved and the other slightly annoyed.

[Oh, god damn it. Sorry, not today.]

Luna skidded to a stop on the suddenly appearing pitch-black ground, casting a spell with her horn. She closed her eyes for a few moments before opening them with a sound of frustration.

"Gone." She looked up into the void. "Why couldn't Major stay?"

Nightmare stood up, ruffling her wings in annoyance at having hit the ground so ungracefully. "I do not know. Either something is keeping it away, or it does not want to talk. At least we know Major is still out there. This is quite the time to reappear, though."

"You don't think-" Luna began.

"It is too much of a coincidence. A century, and it returns now? Right after the humans arrived?"

"Major must want something. It can't move on."

Nightmare stomped her hoof. "It must move on. That's the natural order of things."

"The 'natural order' of things? We are not death. It's not our responsibility." Luna sighed. "I must awaken."

She looked to Nightmare Moon. "You can always make amends, you know. We don't have to fight."

"I cannot promise anything. Just..." Nightmare Moon gave Luna a small smile. "Good luck. You will need it in the weeks ahead."

"What?"

But the Princess of the Night was already waking up. She disappeared from the Dream Realm, leaving the Princess of the Dark alone.

Central London. August 7th, 1945. 8:53 AM

"Agent 5. Target's moved inside the courthouse."

Agent 7 frowned. He put down his binoculars and flicked on the walkie-talkie. "Agent 7. That's not possible, I just had visual on the target. He's surrounded by- oh, what the hell?"

He had looked through the binoculars again at the court house down the end of the street. Outside, confused military police were running out like ants from a kicked nest. The target, who had been in their custody on the steps of the courthouse, was nowhere to be seen.

"Agent 5! I have eyes on the target, exiting from the back of the courthouse. Taking the shot."

"Agent 3. I'm at the back of the courthouse, I don't see anyon- GAH!"

A loud shot rang out over the block. Agent 7 cursed, picking up his rifle and binoculars, and ran for the back stairs of the office building. He shouted into the radio as he descended.

"Agent 7, someone report!"

"Agent 2 here. Agent 5 is compromised. I repeat, Agent 5 is compromised. Agent 3 is down. I think- yep, that's the target there, entering a shop near you, Agent 7! 'Horton's Sweets'. Please advise."

Agent 7 left his equipment at the foot of the stairs. There was no time to collect it. "Agent 7. Agent 2 and Agent 6, arrest Agent 5. Use lethal force if necessary. I'm going after the target. Everyone else, regroup at the exfil point and secure our transport."

He pushed his way through the crowd of people on the street, receiving angry glares from the people he shoved aside. Agent 7 stopped just outside a sweet store with a glass front and a huge sign above it labelled 'Horton's Sweets'.

Drawing his pistol, he carefully entered the store. There was a single old woman sitting behind the counter who gave a frightened shriek and raised her hands when he entered.

"I'm with the police, don't worry, ma'am. Have you seen a middle-aged, brown-haired man in a red coat, and white shirt? Out of breath, maybe? He's armed and dangerous," He whispered, hoping the woman's shouting hadn't alerted the target. If he was still here.

The woman pointed towards a door set in the back of the small store. Agent 7 nodded and crept quietly to the door. He grasped the handle, creaking it open, just to see-

The target vanishing in a flash of white light. Agent 7 blinked, then rushed into the small room and looked around. It was completely bare, with nothing to hide behind or disappear into. He grasped for his walkie-talkie.

"Agent 7. The target just disappeared. What's the situation?"

Static.

"Report! Someone, report!"

"Agent 1. I have the target cornered in a sweet shop. Moving to eliminate."

Agent 7 turned around, a feeling of dread slowly creeping up on him. The door to the main store slowly slid open, revealing Agent 1 armed with a pistol.

"Agent 1? What are you..."

Agent 1 squeezed the trigger five times in quick succession.

Agent 7 stood no chance.

He looked down at the body and calmly turned on his walkie talkie. "Agent 1. Target is down. Agent 7, what's your location?"

More bodies to stand on. Heh...

Then stand on them proudly, young one.

Outpost Asp. August 7th, 2045. 7:13 AM

"Tell me where the Queen is, or die. Simple." A unicorn in Royal Guard armour wearily stared down a changeling in a white labcoat.

"Please, I don't know anything. The Queen left a while ago, I don't know where to," whimpered the changeling. It had been giving similar responses for the past couple of minutes.

"Fine then." The soldier threw down the changeling, and nodded to the other Royal Guard soldier in the corridor. "We have no more questions for you."

The changeling gave him a relieved look. "Thank-"

A levitating sword cast in a golden glow pierced its barrel. It fell backwards, choking and sputtering as its deep red blood stained the floor.

The two unicorns stepped back with a salute as a towering, white-coated alicorn with a rainbow-colored ethereal mane entered the corridor, accompanied by more Royal Guards.

"What happened here, soldiers? What's the situation?"

"Your Highness! We only found one changeling. The rest fled by the time we teleported in. This was one packing up some research equipment- probably used to make horrible bioweapons and such. We questioned it about the location of Chrysalis, and as you informed us, she was here earlier and likely responsible for the stasis spell. The changeling refused to cooperate further, so we disposed of it."

Princess Celestia stared at the twitching corpse. Slowly, slowly, her muzzle curled up in a very slight but utterly terrifying smile.

"Good job, my little ponies," she whispered.

Chapter 9/ECA/GLA: Capital in the Castle/A Pleasant Train Ride

"Stand proudly on the bodies."
"What?"
"It's nothing. Just put on your uniform."

Ambassadors' Wing Gardens, Canterlot Castle. 7th August, 2045. 6:45 AM

"CCFC Andrej stared straight ahead at the behemoth of a structure being erected by our engineers. The Region Command, pride of the European Engineer Corps, capable of coordinating-"

"Hey, Harris," Andrej greeted Corporal Harris, patting the empty space next to him on the bench he was sitting on. They were in the Royal Garden surrounding the Ambassadors' Wing. Andrej had come down to watch the ECA and pony engineers putting together Region Command. "Couldn't sleep?"

Harris shrugged. "I'm not the only one." He made a little note on the small journal he had taken to carrying around. "There's something you need to see."

"Oh?"

"It's... complicated. I'll have to show you."

Andrej nodded, standing up. "Lead the way, then."

They strode through the huge doors of the Ambassadors' Wing, passing various ponies and the occasional group of griffons. Most of the ponies gave them friendly greetings or nods, although they did receive cold stares and wary glances from some.

Andrej supposed that Corporal Harris, scribbling on his journal and muttering eccentrically, was not helping with the ponies' view of the humans.

Harris led him up a side set of stairs to the floor of the Ambassadors' Wing which had been given to the ECA.

Although ECA Command had insisted on keeping full control of access to their temporary base, there was free access to the part of the humongous hall closer to the main stairs; a sort of neutral ground.

Even at this time in the morning there were dozens of humans and ponies scattered everywhere: soldiers sharing stories, a pony in a suit explaining something to a group of officers, pony journalists, and a group of curious Royal Guards talking to the crew of the Leopard tank parked in the hallway.

"In here, sir." Corporal Harris motioned to one of the many doors set in the walls of the hallway.

This part of the hall housed several mostly-empty utility and conference rooms from which any ambassadors could work. At first the sheer size and capacity of the Ambassadors' Wing had stunned Andrej, but considering this was the only major embassy in one of the only countries in the world, it made sense.

Andrej was almost knocked off his feet by a Nightguard rushing along the corridor. He gave Andrej an apologetic nod but didn't stop. Two more followed him, flying just slightly above the ground. Andrej grunted in annoyance before continuing along to the door.

They entered the room. Inside were Corporal Harper, SFC Janelle, SFC Newbery, a vaguely familiar, old European in a lab coat, and Blurry Flash from the Royal Guard journalist team.

Along one of the walls was a table holding a computer and some advanced looking broadcast equipment. A video image was being projected above it, which appeared to originate from Blurry Flash's horn.

The researcher was talking excitedly with the ponies, gesturing wildly. Blurry Flash seemed to be sharing his enthusiasm.

"SirthenicescientistjustinventedsomethingreallycoolandnowIdon'tneedamonitorformyconsoleIjustneedaunicorncanwekeeptheunicorn PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE?"

Andrej involuntarily stepped back from this sudden burst from Newbery. "Um, no?"

"Oh, that's alright then."

"Sir, Newbery learnt that the ponies don't have anything capable of displaying video, so he wanted to fix that. Specialist Alex," Harper motioned to the researcher, who was oblivious to the newcomers, "seemed interested, and we convinced Blurry Flash to help out. The other Guards tagged along."

Andrej nodded to the projection on the wall. "I assume it worked?"

"Yep, chief. Don't ask me how, but using a thermo-baric-crystal-thing Specialist Alex managed to broadcast video feed from that computer directly to Blurry Flash, who with some concentration can project it onto any surface. Took some trial and error though." He rolled up his sleeve to display several minor burns. "I'm the only one who got hit. Twenty seven times."

Wincing sympathetically, Andrej replied, "Could be worse. How big of a discovery is this exactly?"

Blurry Flash had wrapped up his conversation with the researcher. "I'm not sure about what's being broadcast right now, but I've heard you guys have a few 'video cameras'- Alex explained them to me- which could be really helpful. Imagine, any unicorn in the city could simply tune into a broadcast as easily as turning on the radio." His eyes went sparkly. "This will transform our society entirely- for the better. Spreading pictures and videos instantly across the whole of Eque-"

Specialist Alex interrupted him. "Not sure about that. You're a good lad but even from this range it took you a decent amount of effort to get the video going. At the very max a single broadcasting unit could cover maybe... the entire castle."

"Oh. So there's no way to get video to, say, Lower Canterlot and Upper Canterlot at the same time?"

"Not exactly. We can connect each of the units with wires. They're cheap but we have a limited supply of them, so you'd need a local producer to make some for yourself," explained Alex. He smoothed his greying hair. "Training unicorns could be an issue too; there's only one of you."

Blurry Flash waved all this away. "We'll figure something out. Chief Corporal First Class Andrej, as the designated squad for communicating with common ponies, I assume it is within your jurisdiction to manage the flow of technology to us?" He said that sentence very formally and carefully.

"Indeed it is, Blurry Flash," replied Andrej, wondering where all of this was going. "I'll still have to ask Command if we're taking any equipment, though."

"Oh, don't worry. I have enough spare materials to create two more of these units, and I assume you already have a computer or laptop for broadcasting," contributed Specialist Alex. "I'd best be off, though, have to move my stuff to Region Command. Keep this unit and the laptop here for now, contact me if you need anything."

"Thank you, researcher."
"Thanks doc!"
"Thanks, Specialist."

"Just doing my job. Have a good one." With that he left the room.

Blurry Flash cleared his throat. "The ECA will get nowhere without bits, and I am sure the Royal Sisters will not directly fund an armed organisation right within their castle. Especially with the group in Manehatten-"

"The group in Manehatten?" interrupted Harper.

"Haven't you heard the news?" replied Blurry Flash, mildly surprised. "Princess Celestia released a formal statement a while before dawn today. Apparently there's another faction of humans in Manehatten- that's a huge coastal city- calling themselves the United States of America's military. They came on a huge ship with heavier-than-air flying machines, called the USS Discord."

"An aircraft carrier..." muttered Andrej thoughtfully. He was conflicted between relief that they weren't the only ones here, and wariness at what the Americans may be up to. They weren't exactly known for peaceful resolution and diplomacy.

After some thought he shrugged. "It's not our problem, High Command will deal with it. But you're right, we do need to secure a source of income. Though if the Royal Sisters don't want us to, why are you helping us?"

"I like you guys," replied Blurry Flash simply, flashing an innocent smile. Andrej narrowed his eyes slightly. He didn't believe for a second that the sly Guard was doing this purely because he 'liked' them, but he couldn't see any ulterior motive except securing human technology, which would be in vain as the Engineering team was already giving it out.

"Well, alright then," he replied with an equally fake smile. "So, what's your plan?"

"I propose that you start the first ever human company here- a telecomms company!"

"A telecomms company?"

"You know, stuff to do with this broadcasting equipment. I'm sure every snob in Canterlot would be willing to pay a decent price to see... well, we'll figure out what to broadcast later. For now, you can sell a novelty."

"And what's your role in all of this?" Andrej was skeptical.

Blurry Flash deflated slightly. "Well, as a Royal Guard it's illegal for me to accept any bits at any time from anyone except the Castle... and I can't own a company or anything... but it's enough for me to know I helped along a technological revolution for ponykind."

"So... where do we start?" Andrej wasn't sure how they were going to do this, or if they even could, but he didn't see anything wrong with trying.

"Visit the Canterlot Hall of Government Affairs and ask for permission to register a company. I don't think it's legal for ambassadors to do something like that, but you can at least try. I told the guards to look out for your squad; you should be able to enter the city freely. Don't let this one out alone though," Blurry Flash waved his hoof at Newbery, who was currently showing a bemused Janelle a 'better' way of holding pistols. "He'll end up racking up a bill on cotton candy or something."

"Oh, we know. Harper, Harris, are you two free?"

"Yeah, chief. You want to go right now?" Harper looked up from unplugging various wires connected to the laptop.

"May as well. Janelle, inform Sharice that we're out. She's in charge. And wake up the boys, tell them to help you get the broadcasting-thing to our room."

"Yes sir," saluted Janelle. She dragged Newbery with her out of the room. Andrej and the Corporals followed, Blurry Flash right behind them.

"So, do you think they'll let us start a company? Earn bits? Build broadcasting towers?" Harper asked as they made their way down the corridor.

"They won't."

The trio turned around. Just behind them was the same blue pegasus that they had seen yesterday, trying to get through the ECA checkpoint. He had a smug, knowing grin on his face. Andrej considered how to tell the pony to mind his own business without seeming rude.

"But I can."

"Oh?"

"I can help you, and you can help me." The pegasus motioned to an open door leading to a tiny, empty room. "Let's have a chat."

Andrej looked to Harper and Harris, both of whom simply shrugged at him. "Sure, I guess. Harris, come with me."

They entered the room, the pegasus closing the door behind him.

"Now, if I understand it correctly, you want to start a legal, profitable company. Correct?"

"Maybe."

"What kind of company?"

"That's none of your-," Harris started, but he was stopped by Andrej raising his hand.

"It has to do with this new technology we've invented. It can transmit video- moving pictures- in a small radius, which unicorns can display onto walls."

The pegasus lost his smug smile for a second, replaced by genuine interest. "That sounds like some fictional magic."

"Well, our technology is quite advanced..." Andrej glanced at his pistol meaningfully.

In what appeared to be deep thought, the pegasus murmured, "If you connect a radio with thermobaric crystals..."

"Pardon?'

"Nothing. It just sounds similar to something I've been working on. Anyways..." The pony put on an old-timey salesman accent. "What you need is a middleman. A middleman with funds, who knows his way around Canterlot. I can be that middleman."

"We have no idea who you are." Andrej was incredibly skeptical. The pegasus seemed like a sketchy businessman looking for some quick profit.

"Nevermind that. I rather suddenly lost my status yesterday, but I still have some contacts and quite a lot of bits at my disposal."

"So you're paying? What's the catch?"

The pegasus shook his head. "There isn't any. I'll fund the company's startup, manage the pony side of things, and you get all the profit. In return, I need you to do me some favours every once in a while. That's it."

"Favours? What kind of favours?"

"Oh, you know. Just some odd jobs that a human could do better than a pony," replied the pegasus vaguely. "Don't worry, you can decline any of the favours if you want to."

Andrej nodded slowly. "What should we do?"

"Nothing for now. I'll work on setting up the company and get back to you in a few days. Then your team comes in and sets up the broadcasting thingie- if it's light enough you can attach it to a radio broadcasting tower, there's several across Upper Canterlot. What do you say?" The pegasus held out his hoof. Seeing Andrej's hesitation, he continued, "There's no risk at all for you here- I'm the one taking a risk, in fact, working on such little information."

Andrej held out his hand reluctantly. It was all going so fast, but they seemed to be moving in the right direction- or at least, not the wrong one.

They shook, hand and hoof. As Andrej and Corporal Harris were leaving the room, Andrej remembered something.

"I'm CCFC Andrej. I didn't catch your name."

The pegasus grinned back. "Call me... Bluewings."

Unknown Train, ???. August 7th 2045. 10:40 AM

“Captain? You dead?” The voice could barely be heard through the howling wind and rumble of the train’s wheels on the tracks.

“Not yet,” Captain Linton called back from the tiny porch on the back of the carriage. Next to him was Pilot Pavlov, the squad sniper and three other GLA soldiers. “All of you made it?”

The rest of the squad was scattered along the train, having grabbed onto side ladders or hung onto the porch railings like Linton and his small group had. They were at the very last carriage.

Sergeant Ali called back, “All 21 of us, excluding you five! Doesn’t seem like we’ve been detected. Thanks, god, for, like, GLA stealth and stuff.”

“Regroup at the front of the train. We’ll make our way over the roof.”

“Roooger that.”

The soldiers worked on lowering the ladder strapped to the back of the carriage, while the sniper was peeking through the window set in the door. Linton glanced inside too. It was a utility cart, full of crates and boxes. There wasn’t anyone inside.

“Change of plan,” he shouted above the wind, and tested the handle of the door. It was unlocked, strangely. He unslung his rifle and stepped inside. The soldiers followed him.

The carriage was no warmer than the outside. Linton lifted the lid of one of the crates to reveal frozen, ready-to-heat meals. It seemed that the train ran purely through the frozen mountains, if the operators felt no need for artificial cooling.

“You two, grab some supplies. The other two, come with me for scouting.”

He opened the windowless door on the other side of the carriage. The porch here connected to the one of the next carriage with a gap. A lowered ladder revealed that Sergeant Ali had climbed onto the roof here.
Linton nodded to the windowless, grey metal door of the next carriage.

“Prepare the breach.”

The soldier and the sniper hopped over the gap, moving to either side of the door.

As Linton hopped over, the train hit a gap in the rails and shook suddenly, almost throwing Linton off the edge. He clung on to the railing, tripping and falling onto the metal porch with a loud clang.

“Are you al-” The trio froze as the door slid open. The head of a small, strange-looking horse popped out, with a coat that sparkled and glimmered in the light.

“What in the-”

He was cut off when the sniper bashed his stock into the pony’s skull, causing him to crumple to the ground. The door automatically slid shut behind him.

The soldier nudged the body warily with his foot. “You killed it!”

“No, it’s just unconscious,” explained Linton. “It would seem that yaks are not our only problem here. We must inform the others, and quickly. Fetch the others, we’re going on the roof.”

Private Aleksander clung onto the roof of the carriage for dear life, his face battered by wind and the occasional clump of snow. He was with Private Havildar at the very front of the train, right behind the locomotive itself. They lay down to avoid falling off.

“How long do we have to wait here?” complained Havildar.

“Until the others catch up. Don’t worry, it’ll just be a couple minutes more.” Aleksandar was starting to get tired of the younger Private. The wet snow seeping through the winter uniform didn’t help improve his mood.

As if on cue, he felt a tap on his foot. Looking back, Aleksander saw the rest of the GLA force, clustered up on the carriage behind them. Captain Linton was directly behind him. Linton put his finger to his lips, whispering, "Don't panic. We're hijacking the train. There's horses."

Aleksander thought he'd misheard the last part, but the Captain continued on to the locomotive at a slow crawl. The duo followed, with the rest of the GLA squad catching up behind them.

The Captain drew himself up to a crouched position, unsheathing his knife, and hopped down.

Linton carefully drew himself up to a crouched position, unsheathing his knife, and hopped down next to two uniformed ponies. He grabbed one by the muzzle and put his knife against its neck.

“Don’t move, don’t scream,” he whispered threateningly to the other pony. It understood and closed its muzzle tightly.

Private Aleksander and another soldier climbed more carefully down the ladder, wincing when hot steam from the locomotive’s chimney blew into their faces. They took stock of the situation and drew their rifles.

"No one has to get hurt," muttered Linton, "but they will if you don't cooperate. Where is this train-"

Metal screeched behind him. Linton spun his head around to receive a hoof-kick straight in the face. He fell to the floor of the porch, dimly aware of the sound of a rifle going off.

Northeastern Crystal Empire. August 7th, 2045. 10:51 AM

"Understood, Alpha."

Talcite hooked the phone receiver back into the radio slot.

"What did Alpha say to do with them?" Med was standing directly next to her. An Imperial Army officer was with them, listening intently.

The Imperial Army had taken control of the front carriage of the train to hold the prisoner humans, with four prisoners and two guards in each compartment.

"We are not to communicate with the luggage. A team will covertly pick it up when we arrive," recited Talcite.

The Imperial Army officer wasn't satisfied. "A team? Your own ponies? Shouldn't the Imperial Army deal with this?"

"Oh, Captain." Med's voice was deadly cold. "We ARE the Imperial Army."

"Then what about the chain of command? The proper procedures?"

"Do you see what those things are? Procedure doesn't apply here." Talcite was starting to get impatient with the officers of the mundane Army. A glance from Med indicated that this was the wrong thing to say.

"Procedure applies everywhere, Agent. I will be contacting military court about this."

"There's no need, Captain. Why don't you have a drink, I heard they have a nice selection of wine here..." Med led the officer away, leaving Talcite alone with a pair of half-drunk Imperial Army soldiers.

She squeezed her way down the narrow corridor, checking each compartment. Most of the prisoners were sullen and silent, with any conversation being stopped by a harsh glare from the soldiers on guard. Talcite stopped outside one of the compartments, looking inside curiously.

This one held only a single prisoner- a younger human who had shot one of the Army ponies. Said pony was in critical condition, being treated by the singular Army medic.

The prisoner sat across from his two guards, his head bowed. His uniform was similar to that of the Griffonian Legion's winter uniform- white camo and a long coat- but had certain elements that she supposed were unique to the humans, including shoulder pads and heavy-looking vest. There was a shawl wrapped around his face which the guards hadn't bothered to remove, despite the relative heat in the carriage.

The prisoner turned his head to look at Talcite. She locked eyes with him for a brief moment, then continued on through the corridor.

Prologue: The Sky is Beautiful

War may conquer new lands, but it is only through peace that those lands can truly be called home.

[Europe is consumed by war once again! Russia, with its population starving and unable to produce basic necessities for itself, invades the mostly-demilitarized European Continental Alliance in a desperate bid for resources. Although Belarus, Ukraine, and Poland fell quickly, American support has arrived and the war seems even. Only time will tell, however, which side will emerge victorious.

China watches on from the sidelines. Although its factories are already churning out weapons and equipment to support the American war effort, the military is hesitant to join in. A certain ceremonial unit however, the Red Guard, does not lie idle. It will do what it must to protect China, even if the military lies dormant.

Amidst the chaos, the Global Liberation Army in Africa and South Asia is rapidly gaining supporters. Despite their defeat in Hamburg in 2038, they have mostly recovered and are once again the undisputed rulers of the lawless lands of central Africa. Their leaders observe the situation carefully, plotting and waiting for the moment to finally usurp the imperialist regimes.

No place is left untouched by the war. But in spite of the horrors, a vague hope emerges: this is surely the last war. The new world will rise from its ashes, a phoenix reborn, never to see such tragedy again.

Our subjects, though, likely won't see this world. They have another one to visit.]

Northwest edge of Antarctica, August 6th, 2045. 08:53 AM

A middle-aged, dark-skinned man with a beard rested on an armchair in a small but fancy lounge, his eyes firmly shut. A soldier dressed in the blue camo pattern of the American Navy approached him with a salute.

"Lieutenant Colonel sir, Rear Admiral Rowling has asked for your presence in the bridge in 10 minutes," The soldier's eyes drifted over the Lt. Colonel's left arm- or rather, the space where his left arm would be. "We're nearing the location of our objective, he says."

The Lt. Colonel's eyes gently opened as he gave his reply, "Understood, I'll be there. Dismissed!"

The soldier saluted again and turned around, sneaking a glance at the officer's left side before he left. An empty long, tan sleeve hung loosely from a short stump only slightly extruded from his shoulder. The slightly-shorter-than-average Lt. Colonel was permanently leaning slightly to the left as if to balance himself, even while sitting.

The Lt. Colonel sighed. He supposed he should use his few minutes of free time as they could very well be his last for a few days. Dragging himself out of the comfortable chair, he made his way down a long corridor and up a flight of stairs, passing only a few Navy and Army soldiers on the way who respectfully saluted or nodded at him. He opened the heavy metal door at the top of the stairs and blinked away the blazing morning light reflecting on the white-and-grey landscape outside.

The USS Discord, a huge monster of an aircraft carrier, pride of the USA's Joint Quick Reaction Force, was covered in a white, frost blanket. The Lieutenant carefully strode past the tarmac housing various grounded helicopters and folded fighter jets, where crewmembers were working desperately to clear the apron of ice and snow. After watching them for a moment, he turned back to the small building jutting up from the top deck of the ship, the 'Island', but instead of reentering it he walked down a flight of stairs shadowed by the Island till he reached a tiny deck holding a light anti-aircraft flak cannon. Two men in tan uniforms greeted him with their backs to the sea, smoke rising from the cigarettes in their mouths. The one holding a lighter was tall, with ever-so-slightly longer limbs.

"Heya, Cap'. Everything alright in Officerland?" The soldier offered the Lieutenant a cigarette and a lighter which he took in his hand with a smile.

"Yep, I'm supposed to head to the bridge in a few minutes. We're about to reach the weird science-signal thing... supposedly."

The second soldier on the deck spat out his cigarette and stamped it with his boot, "Finally, I'm freezing my ass off in this godforsaken winterland. I bet the Russians actually get indoor heating; there's not a day that I wake up without a sore throat and runny nose. What about you, Captain?"

The Lieutenant opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by urgent shouting from the above top deck.

"All hands to stations! Unknown aircraft spotted!"

A moment later, the same message repeated from the ship-wide speaker system.

The first soldier grinned. "Let's get you to the bridge, Cap'," he tossed his cigarette over the railing. The Lieutenant dropped the lighter and cigarette on the deck as raced up the stairs to the top deck, past two Navy crewmembers rushing to man the AA cannon. The soldiers shadowed him as closely as possible.

It was chaos on the deck. Ground crew urgently readied a pair of fighter jets waiting on the runway, pilots strapped themselves into helicopter and plane seats, and various crewmembers walked as fast as they could on the icy tarmac with a mix of panic and purpose. The Lieutenant himself shoved through the door to the Island and sprinted down the same corridor he had exited the building from. There were a lot more people here, carrying messages, reports, or just generally trying to make themselves useful. The Lieutenant turned right at the sign marked 'Bridge', revealing a flight of stairs ending in a landing with a large, closed door.

The officer continued up the stairs at a slightly more careful pace, but as he neared the top a loud thud vibrated through the ship, and it swayed to the left. The Lieutenant's foot caught on the step, his left shoulder flailing uselessly as he hit the staircase roughly. His two escorts finally caught up with him and helped him lay up with his back to the wall.

"Woah there, Cap', you don't look too good. Take a mo-" The first soldier began to speak. He was interrupted by the entire wall to the bridge bursting outwards in a huge explosion. And then, black.

Staff Sergeant Henry woke up with a jolt. His body was limp, lying on his left side. Something was on top of him, blocking his breathing, and he reflexively shoved it off before he realised what it was. A torn, bloody sack of meat and bones blocked his view of the beautiful sky exposed above the smoking debris at the top of a staircase. Henry stuffed his fist into his mouth to fight off the wave of nausea, crawling backwards away from the staircase and the remains of his squadmate.

He had to focus. The bridge was clearly completely annihilated; it would be pointless trying to search for survivors there. Henry stood up shakily, taking in his surroundings. He spotted the limp, unconscious form of the Capt- Lieutenant Colonel, lying against the wall opposite the staircase; he must have been tossed there by the explosion. His eyes widened with horror when he took in the huge spray of shrapnel dug into the Lieutenant's right leg, shredding it to a mangled mess, and put two and two together.

The only reason Henry was uninjured was because his squadmate's body had effectively blocked the shrapnel, saving Henry's life. At a price. The Lieutenant had been mostly spared because he was lying down, sheltered by the top stairs. Henry winced at the thought of the Lieutenant having to suffer the rest of his life like this; if they survived, he'd have to make do with only an arm and a leg.

The speaker system crackled to life somehow, "Attention, attention. Field hospital on the top deck apron. Head there immediately if you are severely injured, and help others."

Henry nodded to himself. There was no helping his squadmate now. He leaned down and dumped the Lieutenant's hopefully breathing body over his shoulders and stumbled down the corridor. A trio of medical personnel shoved past him, barely sparing him a glance except to shout, "Take him to the apron!".

The Staff Sergeant sighed in relief as an unknown soldier came to his aid, helping him carry the Lieutenant to what looked more like a hashed-together morgue than a field hospital; medics conducted open surgery and desperately tried to preserve the lives of about two dozen injured soldiers and crewmembers with nothing but a white sheet separating them from the cold, cruel tarmac. After laying down the Lieutenant and making sure a medic saw to him, Henry turned his gaze to the chaos around him.

Five or six huge black dots were approaching just over the horizon, which he assumed were the enemy aircraft. He could see the smoking, torn wreck of a large cargo plane close by on an icy glacier. The anti-aircraft guns dotted around the ship continuously pumped out heavy lead in the general direction of the approaching planes, forcing anyone on the ship to shout if they wanted to make themselves heard. Henry shuddered as his gaze drifted over the small control tower he had just exited; the top two floors where the bridge had been were reduced to smoking rubble, completely annihilated by what Henry assumed had been a heavy shell or perhaps some explosive device planted beforehand.

The Staff Sergeant realised the urgent shouting and footsteps of the crew on the deck had dimmed and he turned around to see most of them with their heads turned in the direction of the incoming planes, eyes wide and shock written over their faces. He himself looked up and was struck by similar shock.

A massive, white missile, larger than a Blackhawk transport helicopter, was careening towards the ship and unbelievable speeds. It was some distance away but approaching fast, and the AA guns seemed to completely miss it despite its size. As Henry watched, the lone American fighter jet in the air attempted to launch rockets at the missile, but they were entirely ineffective. The fighter jet was caught by the missile's thruster's backblast. It shuddered violently, spiraling downwards out of control and leaving a huge, violent splash as it disappeared into the waters.

Henry had no doubt the missile would destroy everything on the ship and perhaps within a three kilometer radius. He looked to the sky one last time, muttered a prayer, and saluted. The sky was awfully beautiful in the Antarctic.

Just as the roar of the missile's thruster threatened to burst his eardrums, everything went white.

Chapter 5/Russia: For This Breath

What is the thing for which we fight, for which the men with whom we feel the stir of sympathy throughout the ages have fought?

???, ???. ???

Rujy awoke with a start, jumping in the cold, hard metal chair he was sitting on. The musty smell of a heavily used sack overwhelmed his sense of smell, and opening his eyes revealed nothing but pitch-black darkness. His hands were tied tightly behind the chair; too tightly, far too tightly.

"It's awake."

This was it. What every Russian soldier feared and dreaded.

The Europeans had caught him.

Well, the Europeans, or the Americans, or the Chinese, or the GLA, or the [REDACTED], or perhaps even their very own secret police. It was hard to tell what with each faction having a similar procedure when interrogating officers. Rujy tried to think back to how he'd got here, but everything past falling asleep on guard duty was blurry.

He'd fallen asleep on the very same guard duty he'd assigned. The 'caught by our own secret police' option was looking far more likely by the second.

"Hello? Can you not understand me or are you just brain-dead?"

The feminine voice had no specific accent, but had a distinct authoritarian tint to it. Rujy could tell this was someone who expected things to get done at a single command. The sound told him he was indoors. He decided to wait as long as possible before answering, so if he ever got out the situation no one could accuse him of collaboration.

"Be patient, Chrysalis. This is not purely a changeling operation."

"I don't remember asking for Nightguard involvement," replied the first voice coldly with an almost animalistic, deep growl.

"My Queen, and , er, Captain, please focus. The subject is awake, remember?" broke in a third speaker.

"Right, right. We will settle this matter later. You, thing, I know you are listening. Speak up."

Rujy decided that this was the best time to break the silence, preferably with a classic patriotic opener.

"You will not make me betray Mother Russia!"

There was no response for a few anxious seconds in which he seriously entertained the possibility that his interrogators had believed him and would now have him executed. The second voice spoke up tentatively.

"Changelings...?"

Changelings, Nightguard, a Queen, and a Captain. They're using codenames, but their antagonism between each other earlier seemed genuine. Perhaps a joint operation between departments who don't like each other?

"Sorry, Captain, just discussing using the... y'know."

"Ah, right. Carry on then. I'll fetch the Lieutenant. Don't say anything to the subject in the meantime."

Rujy heard two heavy pairs of footsteps move away a bit, going down some stairs, then return with another two pairs. The four voices had a quick conversation, too hushed for him to make out any words or even the general sounds. After a moment, the first voice cleared his throat and spoke to Rujy.

"Don't worry, we're not trying to make you betray anything or anyone, and certainly not your own mother. We just wanted to ask you a few questions."

Classic interrogator behavior. Make the victim feel at ease with some light reassurances and jokes. For now, he'd pretend to comply.

"Go ahead then."

"What is your n-"

Chrysalis interrupted, "No time for lengthy conversations. State your name, rank, allegiance, and species. Then you will explain the purpose of your mission, and how you arrived here. Do not lie, do not twist the truth, do not attempt to avoid answering anything. Begin, and make it quick." A dim green glow leaked under the hood.

Overwhelmed by the instructions, Rujy attempted to fulfill them as fast as possible without a thought.

'Lieutenant Colonel Rujy Nagarin of the Russian Federation VDV- paratrooper- division. Human. I am the commander of a mission to investigate a signal originating from the edge of Antarctica. We have no idea how we got here, we were flying above Antarctica, engaging an enemy aircraft carrier, when a white flash blotted out everyone's vision for a moment and we simply appeared in a new land."

A sharp, stabbing sensation pierced his forehead. He gasped in pain before calming himself. It seemed the plan had changed, and he was telling the interrogators the whole truth.

"Good, I suppose. Are you the highest ranking soldier out of all those here?"

"Yes."

"Hm..." Chrysalis mused over this before the voices began another hushed conversation. Rujy took this chance to compose himself, ignoring the pain in his forehead, while he gathered his thoughts. Every plan and idea he had, had gone out of the window, and he was down to improvising.

Before he had time to think, Chrysalis fired another barrage of questions.

"Good job, human. We're done."

The dim green glow which had permeated his vision disappeared

Rujy panted heavily. It had been about an hour or two of constant questions, threats, and little verbal encouragements, during which his already awful headache had grown steadily worse. He was fairly sure he had told the interrogators everything he knew about Russia, the war in Europe, and humanity in general.

They had seemed especially interested in the horse corpse.

"Alright, we're going to remove your hood. Just don't freak out. Understood?" This was the original voice, which hadn't spoken since the start of the interrogation.

The Lieutenant Colonel nodded carefully, shifting his blood-drained wrists. The splitting pain in his head had faded to a dull murmur.

The hood was slowly lifted up to reveal a dark room which Rujy recognised as the second story of the house they had occupied. His back was to the bed. The downstairs light and starlight shining through the windows illuminated just enough for him to see...

He gasped in shock. In front of him were four strange horse-like things. Two of them were pitch-black with leathery wings folded along their barrels, fangs sticking out of their mouths. However, their strangeness paled in comparison to the other two- one of whom was extremely tall.

The only reference Rujy had for them was insects. They had glowing pairs of eyes, translucent, bug-like wings, a horn each on their forehead, and a vaguely aquatic fin adorned the head of the shorter one. Heavy, grey, chitin-like armor plates glinted in the starlight, shifting as the regular-sized one moved uncomfortably under Rujy's stare.

The taller one stared back with what Rujy guessed was indifference on her face. Her eyes glowed green rather than blue, and she had a green-black mane and tail. She also lacked the sharp, long fangs of the regular-sized bughorse. Her horn was crooked and long as opposed to the short, smooth curve of the other bughorse.

"I think we broke it," muttered one of the bat-like horses.

The regular bughorse extracted a clear glass bottle and a case of shot glasses from seemingly nowhere, holding both items in its front hooves seemingly without any problem in balancing itself.

"Er, vodka? Alcohol?" It waved the bottle in front of Rujy's face, who broke out of his trance to nod towards the ropes binding his wrists. "Yeah, we should probably do something about that. My Queen?" It turned to the taller pony, who gave a slight nod.

"You haven't asked us about this, changelings," said the grey bat-like horse coldly.

"Lieutenant..."

Rujy blinked to himself. His interrogators had been sentient, talking horses the entire time it seemed. It sounded like something out of those cartoons Dedushka would talk about sometimes, where brightly-coloured animals possessed very human-like qualities and had some lesson to teach the audience every episode.

Which meant the horse they had found in bed...

He cut off that line of thought and decided to simply go along with whatever this was. After all, they had recently teleported from the freezing Antarctic to a late-summer grassland. Some mythical force was at play here.

"I could go for a shot of vodka right now," he spoke aloud, surprising even himself. The bughorse- changeling, as the Lieutenant had called them- shrugged, waving her front hooves as if to say, the human requested it, nothing I can do now. The Lieutenant sighed and motioned forward.

The changeling gave a wide smirk, skillfully laying down the glasses in a line on the floor and tipping the crystal clear vodka bottle over each one. It handed them out, then moved behind Rujy and tore open the ropes with its fangs. He shivered slightly as the sharp teeth passed his wrists by barely a centimeter.

The changeling handed a glass politely to Rujy before picking up its own.

"Cheers, human," it said in a slightly buzzing voice that differed greatly from the one it had spoken in before. It sounded as if its voice was overlayed by another, ever so slightly out of sync one.

"Yeah... cheers." Rujy downed the glass in one go, not feeling particularly cheerful.

Judging from the silence permeating the room, aside from the clink of glasses on the floor, the horses felt that way too.

"Alright, time for business." The 'Captain' quickly briefed Rujy on ponies, their society, the princesses- Rujy noticed the taller changeling, who was apparently the Queen of their entire race, giving the Captain a glare when spoke about the subject- the Equestrian military, and finally an intensely brief explanation of the changelings from which he only learnt that they were a close-knit race of ponies that lived separately from Equestrians.

"Ok, so... you are magical ponies that talk and behave like humans, and are separated into various equine species with their own abilities and biology and stereotypes."

Queen Chrysalis smiled coldly. "Yes, and you are feeble, hairless minotaurs which tore their world into several factions based on nothing but ideology."

"Ja, so we understand each other now. Where are my men?"

"Your ponies- uhh, men- are unharmed. All of them are artificially asleep."

Rujy's mouth turned downwards. "The injured require medical care. Most of them are badly wounded and won't make it through the night without attention from our medics."

Queen Chrysalis huffed while the Lieutenant gave the Captain an 'I told you so' look. "Surely your injured will survive just a few more hours? We have more things to go through before we can deal with 500 more, potentially unreasonable, humans."

The Lieutenant Colonel shook his head. There was no way he would sacrifice some of his own mens' lives for diplomatic points with the ponies, even if they were literally making history right now.

"At the very least the medics must be awoken. I will not negotiate on this," he stated in what he hoped was a firm tone, rubbing his raw wrists.

The Lieutenant and Captain of the Nightguard broke into a hushed conversation between themselves while the Queen and changeling did likewise.

"We'll take you back to Stalingrad."

"We shall escort you to our Hive."

Queen Chrysalis and the Captain made their offers at the same time, looking at each other in surprise.

The Queen made her argument first, "They are avengers and thus guests of the Hive. It is only right that we have the honour of taking care of them."

The Lieutenant bared his fangs. "We will process them through the proper channels and ensure they are safe and taken care of- back at Stalliongrad."

"The proper channels? Is any of this"- the Queen waved one of her forelegs around- "proper? This is just a dirty black ops mission to maintain Luna's façade of actually caring about the changelings."

It seemed that Rujy's assessment of the changelings and Nightguards not particularly liking each other was true. He looked around the room for any weapons he could use in case things went south, eyes coming to a rest on a sheathed sword lying against the staircase railing.

It would have to do.

"We're risking all of the trust our fellow batponies have built with the public. Don't act sour just because your 'lings are too hideous to- ACK"

A sickly green glow had enveloped the Lieutenant's head, which slammed repeatedly into the floor. Rujy noted that Queen Chrysalis's horn had the same glow, an expression of deep concentration on her face.

In a flash, the Captain had drawn a knife and held it against the other changeling's neck, who was too stunned to react. Rujy picked up his chair threateningly.

The head-floor slamming stopped. Queen Chrysalis placed her hoof above the now unconscious Lieutenant's head, staring at the Captain menacingly.

Stalemate.

No one moved or spoke as heavy hoofsteps rushed up the stairs and two fully armored, weaponless batponies and a changeling arrived.

Queen Chrysalis, taking in the situation, gave a deep, frustrated sigh. She backed away from the Lieutenant batpony as the Captain did likewise with the changeling.

"Take the humans. And go," whispered Queen Chrysalis, fury written all over face.

"Sorry about the L-"

"NOW!" barked Chrysalis, nodding to her changelings and moving back down the stairs.

The two Nightguards didn't stop her.

Warehouse 15, Sector 4, Stalliongrad Industrial Complex. August 7th, 2045. 3:05 AM

"Going for 1,500... 1,700... 1,900... 2,100... 2,200... 2,300... and SOLD for 2,400 rubles. Now we have a gentleman offering 600 rubles for an opt-"

The double doors to the huge, empty warehouse burst open. The 400 or so soldiers inside froze as Lieutenant Colonel Rujy entered. They relaxed slightly when Captain Artimey hobbled along behind him.

Rujy strode furiously past the tables displaying various pieces of equipment, an auction floor, and groups of soldiers trying to hide their fully decked out rifles or wads of cash, until he reached the small armory area at the end of the gigantic room where the company quartermaster grinned nervously.

He grabbed the quartermaster by the collar and shoved him behind one of the empty portable weapons lockers, out of sight of the soldiers.

"I leave for 20 minutes to confer with the ponies," Rujy remarked, "and you let the soldiers start some sort of black market operation?"

"The- the-"

Rujy pointed a shaking finger towards the squad of Nightguards standing by the exterior door to the warehouse, politely declining what appeared to be a soldier trying to sell an RPG-40.

"The ponies are watching our soldiers turn this place into some sort of hyper-capitalist monkeyhouse. Do your job and make sure everyone has the equipment they need, and only the equipment they need. Understood, comrade?"

"...ja."

Rujy released the quartermaster, straightening the creases from his uniform.

"Good. Get to it." He returned the quartermaster's salute and turned his attention to Dedushka, who was speaking to another officer about the wounded.

The officer's face was grim as he spoke. "...more in the night. Our medical supply stocks are looking good, though. Nothing else to report, sir."

"Now what?" Rujy asked Artimey as the officer saluted and left to talk to a medic.

"Hm... I believe we are not guests here, but rather prisoners. Hopefully when the Nightguards' Princess Luna arrives, we'll be able to hold a diplomatic meeting of some kind. For now, I suggest we let the men rest up. It's been a long 24 hours."

The Lieutenant Colonel nodded, sitting on one of the white folding tables set up in the armory area. The chaos had died down a bit, with the soldiers now breaking into groups to chat or have a smoke. He couldn't see Captain Rolan anywhere, but he supposed the Captain was dealing with the vehicles parked in the far corner of the warehouse.

Having nothing better to do, Rujy took off his officers' coat and pulled a military cap over his head so he could blend in with the soldiers. Walking past the soldiers, idly listening to their conversations and speculations about the ponies, he eventually reached the large group talking to the Nightguard squad barring the huge steel door to the warehouse.

"...and where are the other races then?"

Rujy sighed as he heard the boisterous voice of Jano Bolkov. It seemed he had elected himself as the ambassador to ponykind.

"The Nightguard only accepts thestrals. Our missions are based on stealth and intel collection, so thestrals are best suited for the job," explained a serious-faced batpony mare. Rujy noticed a bright mark just next to one of her hind legs depicting a closed red eye.

Apparently Jano had too. "What's the eye on your flank?"

"Hm? Oh, these are 'cutie marks'. Every pony has a unique one that they get soon after adolescence. It can mean anything from their special traits or talents to their very fate."

A soldier whispered something into Jano's ear, who passed it on to the batpony, "I presume yours has something to do with counter-intelligence?"

The batpony nodded. "Yes. I specialise in tracking down and... terminating spies. However, all members of the Nightguard are skilled in every field." Her voice had a hint of pride in it.

"Yeah..."

The conversation died down a bit as the soldiers ran out of things to ask, or were too nervous to. Rujy could tell from his position near the back of the crowd that one of the younger-looking Nightguards clearly wanted to say something, but perhaps was too afraid of getting reprimanded.

Eventually a Russian private broke the silence. "Can you tell me where the restro-"

An incredibly loud knocking rang from the shut door, causing everyone on the warehouse floor to freeze.

"ROYAL GUARD. WE HAVE A SEARCH WARRANT FOR THE PREMISES. OPEN THE DOOR IMMEDIATELY."

"Oh, buck me," muttered the batpony squadleader as she directed her squadmembers away and motioned for the Russian infantry to back away from the door.

Rujy took off his cap and pushed to the front of the crowd. The Royal Guard was supposed to be the sister department to the Nightguard, but the reaction of the batponies was unsettling.

"Everyone, take cover. Do not fire unless I say so," he ordered, hopefully loud enough for the entire warehouse to hear. Judging by the scramble of soldiers grabbing rifles, turning over the tables, taking positions on the catwalk above, and moving the sensitive equipment out of potential harm's way.

He scanned the room for the other batponies but couldn't spot them.

"Why are you so spooked, Nightguard?"

The squadleader was fiddling with a small black device featuring a clear, dark crystal. "We hoped to reveal your presence on our own terms. The Royal Guard will not take it kindly when they discover we've been keeping several hundred of a new species locked up in a warehouse."

"Right then, what do you plan to do?"

"I will summon Princess Luna and have her talk to the Royal Guards. We should have a few more seconds..."

The knocking on the door and the shouting ceased. Rujy took a step back, knowing what this meant.

"Nightguard, get back fr-"

The metal door burst through the frame, sending the Nightguard squad leader flying a few meters and breaking the device. Another batpony quickly swooped down seemingly out of nowhere, deftly tossing her unconcious body on his back and cantering through the interior double doors.

Rujy backed away behind the closest overturned table to the doorway, peeking over at the rapidly dissipating smoke. He motioned for the two soldiers next to him to lower their rifles as five pony forms stepped through the smoke, spears and swords at ready.

In contrast to the batponies, these ponies were a mix of the unicorns, pegasi, and one earthpony, as described by the Nightguard Captain. The five ponies decked out in gold-and-white armor and helmets stared at the 500 Russian soldiers.

One of the unicorns' horns lit up and he spoke seemingly to thin air.

"Command, there are humans in the building. Like the ones in Canterlot, yes. Send backup."

The words, although quiet, rang out through the warehouse, which was entirely silent for the third time in just a few minutes.

The other unicorn, with the insigna of a Private, suddenly raised his hoof and barked out, "Surrender, non-pony- OW!"

He rubbed his head which had just been hit by the hoof of the red-coated earthpony. "Sorry about him, he's a unicorn supremacist."

Great, so the ponies also suffered from racism. Rujy rose from his crouched position behind the table, attempting to look dignified.

"No worries. I am Lieutenant Colonel Rujy Nagarin, leader of the esteemed Volki task force of the Russian VDV."

"Right... and how did you get here?" The earthpony appeared to be in charge of the raid squad. His eyes darted back and forth between the mass of soldiers and equipment and Rujy's face.

"Our Nightguard... allies found us to the north of Stalliongrad. They brought us here while they waited for the authorities to arrive."

"I see. Have you been... well accomodated?" Rujy could tell now that the earthpony was just stalling for time, asking random questions, likely until backup arrived.

"I'm sure the Nightguard can tell you more."

As if on cue, a black orb appeared between the ponies and Rujy, causing him to take a surprised step back. Lighting originating from nowhere struck the orb.

A pitch-black, tall shape began to appear.

Queen Chrysalis?

???. August 7th, 2045. 6:34 AM

The Blackbear gunner lowered his camera and observed the image taken. It had perfectly captured the roaring, red hot flames licking the walls of a farmhouse, smoke pouring out of the windows.

As he observed the image, fine-tuning the filters and lighting effects using an unfolded digital display, the VDV agent picked up a charred bottle from the edge of the fire. It was a bottle of coke.

"So, our comrades were here... but where did they go?" He muttered to himself, looking around for any other clues before they were enveloped by the flames.

"Found something, bluey?" shouted the Blackbear Captain from his perch atop the supertank parked just below the crest of the nearby hill, watching over the crew trying to install an electrical generator.

"Ja. Coke. Do not get excited, it's empty."

"Hmph." The Captain lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes, taking in the large city which they had identified as 'Stalliongrad' from the signposts they had passed on the way. "Everything's on fire in this region, it appears."

A large plume of smoke rose from a warehouse on the edge of the city, coating the sky an ashen black, blotting out the rising dawn sun.

Author's Note

Next up, we see how our good ol' friend the USA is doing