Fallout Equestria: The Indefatigable

December 2, 1277 - Mission Day 54

Once again, the commissioned officer's briefing room was assembled. A vidscreen was set up on one side of the room, where Commander Calm Seas stood waiting for the meeting to commence. A trail of ponies filtered into the room from the hall, the Master At Arms standing by by the door and gazing neutrally at the procession of the ship's upper crust and specialists.

Admiral Azure Bluette was already seated at the far end of the room, sipping from a mug of coffee, fresh from the wardroom kitchen. Captain Anchor stood a few feet from her, filling his own mug from the coffee pot when a commotion kicked up at the entrance.

A green unicorn with a purple mane, patchy fur, and a ratty outfit had simply strolled in at the end of the line. She'd, of course, been immediately stopped by the master-at-arms, but she still seemed determined to push past him into the briefing room.

"I've been trying all week to get in to see your leadership. I'm sorry that there isn't exactly a fucking receptionist to talk to!" the mare insisted.

"This is a meeting for commissioned officers and invited specialists only. You're restricted to the crew deck only," the master at arms calmly explained, standing firmly in front of the door.

Azure had looked up from her mug towards the door, along with most of those in the room. Her eyes momentarily locked with that of the survivor pony, who reared up to shout over the Master's head.

"Hey! Hey you! You're in charge here right? I have a bunch to talk to you about!" the mare shouted.

The Master At Arms looked back towards Azure, a tired look on his face. The Head Surgeon facehooved as soon as he saw the face of the survivor at the door.

"Please, ma'am. She's hysterical. I've already collected her advice for my report," Dr Firm Hoof muttered.

"My fucking left asscheek you did!" the survivor shouted, directing an angry gaze over the Master's shoulder at the doctor, "You've been fucking ignoring me ever since I started trying to give you advice!"

Azure's brow furrowed as Doctor Firm Hoof turned in his seat and shouted back, "Your advice was duly noted! You simply don't have the qualification to contradict a fellow of medicine!"

Shaking her head, the Admiral raised a hoof, "Master At Arms, frisk and suppress the unicorn. She will attend and be given a turn to speak."

Firm Hoof gave a derisive snort and the survivor gave a relieved sigh. She was promptly searched for weapons, before a suppressor ring was placed over her horn. Finally, an extra folding chair was moved over for her to sit on as the door to the briefing room was sealed and locked.

Taking one more sip from her mug, Azure placed it on the arm of her chair before standing up in front of the room. She shot a look over towards Calm Seas' vidscreen, "Why don't we start with you, Commander? I assume your area has opsec?"

Calm Seas shook her head, "I turned up at least three listening devices during my sweep. It makes sense for them to attempt to listen in, to attempt to track our next moves. I moved this call to the Vertibuck and did another sweep to ensure security," she gave a slightly haughty sniff, "I believe their attempt at spywork was... extremely amateur, though."

"Nothing can quite compare to a Striped spy trying to bug your office?" Admiral Azure concluded, giving the commander a knowing look.

She shifted uncomfortably in response, but nodded, "Definitely not. "

"What is your assessment of the... Syndicate, then?" Azure asked, glancing towards the survivor pony as her ears suddenly shot up.

"They appear to be the central political power of this region. I tacitly discourage long term cooperation with them, however," Calm Seas said, frowning and lowering her voice, "In fact, I would encourage political takeover or conquest."

Captain Anchor raised an eyebrow. Captain Bugle, sitting a few rows down, perked her ears. The survivor pursed her lips, looking curiously around at the sea of white, starched uniforms and officer's caps around her.

"Conquest is likely out of the question," Azure answered quickly, "They are still civilians, and with the drastically reduced population of the mainland risking non-combatant casualties is a dangerous precedent to set."

The survivor suddenly spoke up, "The Syndicate will put foals in front of their Raiders if they think it'll turn you off."

A few glares turned her way as Azure calmly reminded the survivor, "Do not speak out of order, miss."

"Right..." she muttered, crossing her forelegs.

Calm Seas's eyes looked down at her own video feed at the slight commotion in the meeting room. After a moment, she looked back up into the camera and continued, "From what I can observe, I would believe it. A large group called the Raiders hold a majority in the democratic council of the Syndicate. They are... extremely uncivilized, and probably don't bow to the Natural Laws of Warfare."

The survivor's forehoof suddenly shot up, like she was a filly in a classroom.

Azure set her jaw, before slowly and regretfully asking, "...Yes?"

"What're the Natural Laws of Warfare?" she asked.

Frowning, Azure answered, "A set of rules for civilized warfare drafted by the Ministry of Peace. They include things like not intentionally targeting civilians for attacks, not using civilians to shield military personnel, not attacking medics trying to save the dying..."

"...They're what makes us better than the Zebras," Captain Anchor added.

Bugle opened her mouth to say something, before snorting and closing it again. The survivor nodded, seemingly satisfied, and lowered her hoof.

Calm Seas cleared her throat, "Regardless, I do have a suggestion for our next political move, Admiral."

Azure looked away from the survivor and back towards the vidscreen, giving a gesture of permission with a wave of her hoof.

"There is a party in their council called the Tarcoats. They harvest petroleum from wrecked oil tankers in order to fuel the region's only major power source, the AllSpark Power Plant," Calm Seas intoned.

Azure remembered that plant. She'd held an office at the Cracked Clam Naval Base's admiralty headquarters for a while, and that plant was listed as a major strategic location in the city. If she remembered right, it was being phased out by the construction of a thaumic reactor nearby.

"The Tarcoats are running out of fuel, which inhibits their political power as the Syndicate searches for other sources of spark energy. We can offer them a deal. Our own power plant produces enough electricity to power this region, isn't that right, Ship Right?"

Ship Right hummed, "Well, currently we only run two turbines to power weapon systems, onboard primary and secondaries... we have two turbines to power the Sunrise and another two to power our propellers. I'd have to take a look at what kind of loads they're taking up, but it's likely we could supply their grid with the minimal energy they seem to use."

Calm Seas gave a satisfied smile, "If we sail into the bay and construct a cable line to connect to their grid, we could offer that party oversight over that power source, and in return demand their political subservience behind closed doors."

Captain Anchor spoke next, "Wouldn't they still be able to see this as a power play?" a pause, "...Literally?"

"They asked for us to help solve their problems. One of their problems is a looming fuel crisis. I see this as the most direct way to solve it," Calm Seas intoned, smile still on her face, "Us bringing one of their political parties on board is simply a form of mutual cooperation with the currently reigning powers."

Admiral Azure nodded, "We'll take that into advisement. In the meantime, organize permission for a group of Ship Right's engineers to fly out to that power plant and examine the necessary details about the post-war power grid. If it's possible for us to supply this power from our own plant, we'll undertake your plan. We'll be sailing into the bay soon anyway to build a bridge to Cracked Clam, flying all of our visitors in from the mainland is too costly on our fuel."

Ship Right nodded, turning in her seat and adding, "And if we can get in touch with their suppliers of petroleum, we might be able to rig some spare parts into a refinery of sorts to turn it into kerosene for the jets and 'Bucks. Perhaps one of the refineries in the city is intact enough to be repaired as well."

Calm Seas bowed her head, "I'll get on that right after this, then," a pause, before she added, "One last thing before we move on. I've compiled a report on possible strategic keystones if conflict should occur."

Azure raised an eyebrow, "Please, go on."

"The biggest thing they have over us is their soil. I have observed the area around the old Stables which house their plantation, though I have not been given access to view inside at this time. All entrances are heavily fortified by sandbags, machinegun nests, and several armed combatants. Additionally, the doors themselves are sealed most of the time. According to what data we can find, those doors will be impervious to most things we can bring to bear unless we can breach the information security on the door control system," Calm Seas listed, looking down at her military-pattern PipBuck, "Thus, it is possible they could directly hold the plantation and its soil hostage. Nothing we have on board could breach the exterior doors, and assuming the technology inside the Stable is still active they could hold out indefinitely against a siege."

"If conflict is commenced, it is of utmost priority we swiftly capture those stables and prevent them from using it as a fallback point," she emphasized, before turning a knob on her PipBuck with a wingtip and continuing.

"Another possible strategic trap is the ship itself. Many of the patients we take aboard are directly from their militant forces. While they have very little that could disrupt security aboard this ship from the outside, it is possible the patients in our infirmary could be planted to create an uprising. We should increase security in our medical sectors to preempt this."

The survivor nodded firmly at this suggestion. Azure glanced towards her, before looking back at Calm Seas as the latter mare continued.

"The last threat i can predict against our ship is the possibility of some sort of secret weaponry. With our ship about to navigate into the bay, we would become extremely vulnerable to shore-launched torpedoes or other types of infiltration. A single pony swimming with a heavy shaped charge and placing it against our hull could severely cripple the Indefatigable, or perhaps even sink her. As we reduce our distance to the shore, I am suggesting we establish a strict perimeter around our ship, preventing any traffic from closing into a dangerous distance. Additionally, a watch should be established to monitor and log any activity on the shoreline near Sunset Town and other coastal communities," Calm Seas finished, lowering her PipBuck and looking back towards the camera.

As the information percolated amongst the officers in the room, the survivor raised a hoof once again.

Admiral Azure Bluette's lips drew into a line, "...Yes?"

The survivor leaned forward in her seat, "So, um, do you happen to know who works the Syndicate's plantation?"

Azure glanced towards the vidscreen. Calm Seas shook her head. Looking back towards the survivor, she simply answered, "No."

"It's slave labor," the survivor grimaced, "Like, if you're too deep in debt at the casino, or if you don't pay your tribute to their raiders, they come and take you to make up the debt instead. Anything they don't use to grow the food, they put on a boat and send up the river towards Fillydelphia. Not really worth it as much since the caps you get from selling to Red Eye is not that much more than the cost of hauling them across the entire wasteland," she shifted her weight, "...And it isn't some sorta like, work off your debt thing. The only way you leave their Stables is if you're dead. It's why Mayor Gears isn't too popular. The Stable Dwellers are the slave drivers, responsible for the whole operation."

Murmurs passed around the room, "Hmph. I had a feeling they were hiding something down there," Calm Seas commented.

"Don't believe me? Just ask the Dwellers directly. They probably won't lie if they're confronted," the survivor said confidently, "They'll probably tell you that the plantation's a better place to be a slave than in Filly, but..." she shrugged, "I never did see a slave older than thirty."

Calm Seas tilted her head analytically, "How many would you say work the plantations?"

"Uh, never really been there... but I'd say at least a couple hundred, at most a thousand? I think the Stables under the Gun Rush originally had a population of around three thousand though," the survivor shared.

More mutters came from around the room. Azure, for her part, suddenly began to warm up to the survivor in their midst. Of course, they couldn't be allowed to remember classified information, but perhaps they were more than just a security risk...

"Like a fuckin' Striped POW camp," Bugle growled, "Collared so your head blows off if you ever drop off the wheel."

The survivor mare wiggled her hoof at Bugle, "They don't actually do the bomb collars here. They do that in Filly, but not here. Not out of common equine decency, it's just cause they think the slaves could suicide bomb real easily in the constrained halls of the Stables."

Captain Anchor raised an eyebrow, "How do we know you're not just slandering their image?"

Calm Seas shook her head, interrupting before the survivor could defend herself, "I believe it. They've been too cagey about what's going on in their Stables. It's suspicious."

"Intelligence gathered by the 51st recon suggests this to be true as well. Militia captured several striped civilians after a firefight and discussed at length about selling them," Lightning Bringer brought up with a mutter.

"Striped civilians?" Captain Anchor straightened in his seat, before shooting over a look towards the survivor, "Do you know anything about this?"

"I mean- there's a rumor there's a conclave of Zebras somewhere in Las Pegasus. Strange robots come and trade Zebra tech every once in a while at the settlements," she said, before a sudden look of realization flashed over her face, "Oh yeah you're probably still really angry at the Zebras, like the Steel Rangers are."

Bugle, for her part, set her jaw, "The Rangers at Blueblood have override keys for any Stable door. Apparently a contingent of theirs in Fillydelphia have headquarters in Stable-Tec HQ. We could bust right through an' free those civilians right now."

The survivor's eyes shot open with shock at something in Bugle's sentence, but she didn't get a chance to speak as another voice immediately piped up.

Lightning Bringer held up a hoof, "Now now, I think open hostility is still a terrible idea. A few civilians suffering for a bit longer won't matter if we go with Calm Seas' plan of subterfuge. Once we find enough political leverage, we can force them to give up their slaves peacefully... along with the soil samples we need. Fewer risk dying that way."

Murmurs of discourse sparked across the briefing room. The first voice to rise back above the noise, however, was once again the survivor, "Whoah whoah whoah. What the hell did you do to make the Rangers want to share codes with you?" she leaned forward.

"Fixed their radio tower and worked on neutralizin' the Balefire Lava around their base," Bugle said confidently.

She gave an exasperated chuckle, "O-Okay. Holy shit. Arguably the Steel Rangers are so much worse than the Syndicate."

"We've heard much the same from the Syndicate, which last time I checked you were a citizen of," Azure Bluette reminded in a neutral tone.

"Stable eighty-three," she stated simply, "Stable eighty-three. Perfectly good Stable of about two thousand ponies. They popped open the door and gunned down every last Dweller inside, then stepped over their corpses for some fucking Water Talismans and a bunch of mushrooms. Didn't even ask to trade. At least the Syndicate enables settlements to subsist," she laughed nervously, "I-I-I mean, we were at war with them for like, three decades before you showed up. They shelled villages and took foals to be indoctrinated into their whacko religion. You're kidding me, right?"

All eyes turned towards Bugle, who had been the main point of contact between the Indefatigable and the Rangers. She simply shrugged, "Ain't got a clue. They seemed pretty accomodatin' to us."

"Yeah well-" she argued back, "Of fucking course they're accommodating to you. They pick on ponies who can't fight back. Of course they're friendly to the ponies who can!"

Azure raised a placating hoof, "Okay, okay. That's enough. Commander Bringer?"

The pegasus in question perked her ears.

"Did our Warsprite bring up any map signatures of the stable miss, errh..." Azure looked towards the survivor, "Name?"

"Flow Kindheart," she responded.

"Flow Kindheart," Azure nodded, "Do we have any map data about that?"

"We picked up the Stable, yes. We saw signs of civilization, though. It seemed inhabited still," Lightning Bringer murmured, giving another look towards Kindheart.

Kindheart, for her part, rolled her eyes, "Well, yes. It's a forward operating base for the Syndicate's raiders now. They shed a lot of blood to flush the Rangers outta there."

"Have the 51st check for us anyhow" Azure muttered, before looking back to the crowd, "Otherwise, we will stick to Calm Seas's plan for now. From now on, we will aim to slowly supplant their rule over the region from the top. We want to avoid open hostilities at all costs."

Several expressions of acknowledgement came from around the room and through the vidscreen. Flow seemed to relax slightly in her seat.

"Finally, we turn to our specialists. Doctor Firm Hoof?" Azure invited.

The doctor stood, giving a side-eye towards Kindheart, before promptly looking away from his notes and speaking directly to the Admiral, "Admiral, I am suggesting we institute rationing on our medical supplies, specifically on our supplies of RadAway and Antibiotics."

Flow Kindheart suddenly snorted, scowling. Azure gave her a curious glance, but waved a hoof at the doctor, "Go on."

"We simply have no way to reproduce these materials right now. I am also suggesting we dedicate a small team to creating a makeshift pharmacy to research the synthesis of certain drugs," Firm Hoof suggested, "Otherwise, we will lower dosages of antibiotics for acute cases of infection and reneg the use of RadAway outside of life-threatening cases of ARS - Acute Radiation Syndrome."

"If we short-change the survivors on medical treatment, this may be seen as a sign of distrust," Calm Seas noted.

"It won't be," Kindheart muttered, seemingly extremely annoyed at something, "Wasteland clinics don't treat acute radiation syndrome unless it's life threatening either. They're lucky to be getting RadAway for life threatening stuff anyway," a pause, "And you can't make more of either of those without oranges and a certain kind of fungus."

"Oranges are part of the alchemical mix of RadAway, yes," Firm Hoof reluctantly acknowledged, "Though perhaps the Ranger's fungal farms may be able to create Penicilium."

"Do we have orange seeds aboard?" Azure asked.

The ship's logistician shook her head, "Most popularly farmed oranges in Equestria didn't produce seeds. Had to grow via grafting. All the oranges on this ship are seedless."

"Aaand one of the CEOs of Stable-Tec hated oranges. Won't find them in Stables either," Flow frowned.

"Hmm..." Azure pursed her lips, before looking back towards the logistician, "Work the problem. I'm sure something can be found. What's our food status?"

"With the supermarket looted along with the trade from land, we've bought ourselves about a year until this diet starts seriously impacting the health of the crew," the ship's nutritionist spoke up, "We have time to start our farm now, though I'd advise my fellows in the infirmary to watch out for disease associated with eating meat, though. We may be facultative towards meat, but too much of it is bad for our digestive health and can lead to vitamin deficiencies."

Firm Hoof sighed, "Otherwise, treatment is going well. Most principles applied to recovering POWs and battlefield injuries can be applied to the ailments of the survivors."

"How about the zombpony we recovered?" Azure asked.

"The brain has physically degraded to a point where executive function is unable to occur," Firm Hoof chuckled darkly, "It was a hell of a thing trying to get it into an MRI to be scanned to find that out. Outside of some revolutionary new neuroregeneration treatment, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do. I do not recommend euthanasia at this time, though. It is my opinion there is no more mind in that specimen to experience pain. We would like it moved from the inpatient rooms to a holding cell so we can free up the bed, though."

"A lot of ponies have tried to treat Ghoulism over the years," Kindheart mentioned, "Mostly other Ghouls. Unfortunately, going feral is just a thing that seems to happen over time."

"Kindheart has mentioned all this before, yes. Though the prospect of a zombie with its executive functions is an interesting prospect. I'd like to try and examine one directly if possible," Firm Hoof gave a reluctantly curious look towards Kindheart.

"There used to be one in Sunset Town. An old pre-war sea captain or something. Unfortunately, they ran him off when he started rambling nonsense. He's probably gone feral by now," Kindheart scratched her chin, "I'm sure you can find another one by looking around, though they might not take kindly to being poked and prodded by... 'smoothcoats'."

"I see.." a pause, before Azure added, "Well, is there anything else you wanted to tell us, Miss Kindheart?" Azure turned back towards the mare.

She sighed, before shaking her head, "No. Most of what I wanted to say actually got spat out during this whole meeting."

"Excellent!" Azure smiled, before looking towards the Master At Arms, "Please take Miss Kindheart to the brig. I wish her memories of this meeting to be collected into a memory orb. Debrief her on the things she managed to share, but leave out any classified information. Afterwards, she will be free to return to her duties"

Kindheart's eyes widened with fear as the Master At Arms grabbed her by the scruff. Soon, she was placed in cuffs and dragged off through the door, rattling complaints as she was tugged and dragged along.

Azure, looking to the rest of her officers, sighed, "...Dismissed."

In the midst of the ruins of Las Pegasus, a drone flew high over the foothills of the collapsed inner city.

Four levitator motors kept it aloft as a spherical, metal body kept watch over its surroundings. Cargo racks bolted to the struts that ran from its body to the levitators were filled with metal crates of ammunition alongside glowing spark cells. As it approached its operational zone, it reengaged its stealth field, shrouding itself in the invisibility of a StealthBuck as it slowly hovered down towards the ground.

With the whirr of its motors, it landed in the midst of a street, though it didn't cool off its engines quite yet.

Ice Slushee was tapped on the shoulder, causing her to wrench her eyes away from her foreleg-mounted screen. Shot Stack stood behind her, "Ice. Supply drop's here. C'mon," he urged.

"Yeah, yeah, one minute," Slushee shook her head, getting up as the rest of her squad secured the area. Eventually, the pop of smoke grenades firing came from the street as a smokescreen deployed, obscuring their movements as they moved out towards the landed drone.

Rushing in behind her squad, carrying sacks of empty cartridges and spark cells on her back, they approached the supply drop. Ever since they had discovered the sniper nest, extra precautions against ambushes were being taken. Camps were now unlit, forcing them to live in night vision while they ate, smokescreens were deployed whenever they were landing or operating in an open area. It was nothing they hadn't experienced before in Zebrica, though.

The drone was quickly ransacked for its resupply. Fresh MREs, replacement ammunition, maintenance kits, and spare Spark Cells for their power armor. In return, their empty cells, cartridges, and other recyclable supplies were put on the drone.

"Command, you're good to RTB," Pounce Chaser said as soon as the last of the recyclables were on board the drone.

The motors kicked up as the invisible drone took off, the 51st quickly running back to their secured building as the smokescreen began to drift away. As the grenades died into a thin mist, the street seemingly was the same as it was just a few minutes ago, only with a few expended smokes sitting in the midst of the cracked asphalt.

Crystal Trail and Spear Bash, who had been sticking back to provide overwatch, relaxed as the 51st reentered the building, "No rest for the wicked, seems," Spear Bash greeted.

"I guess we're staying out here for another few weeks if we're getting resupplied this early," Shot Stack pointed out, sitting down with the rest of the squad as they set down the resupply crates, working to sort the rations of ammo evenly between the ten of them.

Crystal Trail nodded, "Yep. Command wants us to investigate a few more points of interest. Bigger than a few supermarkets too. We're supposed to poke around a Stable tonight, then the old MAS university, then the ruined Aerostat platforms of the old Thunderlane Airbase."

"Hey, I trained there," Shot Stack's ears perked.

"We'll move on the Stable after nightfall, so we'd better catch rest in here today," Crystal Trail nodded to the room they were in. It was the ruins of an old diner. For once, its window was intact, as it faced away from the center of the city and was far enough away that the airburst strikes likely hadn't reached it.

"Trying to ghost our sniper friend again?" Sugar Beach asked, placing a block of laser ammo in the ammo compartment of her suit.

Crystal Trail shrugged, "Partially for that, mostly cause the next location is populated. We just do aerial recon, but command might give us something else once we get the lay of the land."

Shot Stack scrunched up his muzzle, revealed as he had pulled off his respirator. They had gotten more and more lax on the respirators over time, though Ice still felt nervous about taking it off for anything other than breathing Dash and eating, "Fuck's sake. Can't they get a Warsprite to do that kinda recon?" he asked.

"Nope. Warsprites eat jetfuel. Still saving all they can in case they need to slap someone with an airstrike," Crystal Trail shook her head, "All we eat is food and spark cells. They can make more of that."

Radio Whistle nudged Shot Stack sharply, "What's wrong, Stack? You getting paid too much for this job?"

Shot Stack snorted, "I'm not sure what I'm getting paid for nowadays. Real estate market's down by about..." he pursed his lips and mimed a balance scale with his forehooves, "One hundred percent."

Ice Slushee grinned underneath her respirator, "I bet we could pool our money together, buy this diner for the low low price of fuck-all, start a nice ice cream business selling to the passing giant roaches and rats."

"Hell yeah sister," Shot Stack raised a hoof for her to bump. She did so, though she let out a slight cough at the end.

Lead Syringe raised an eyebrow, "Ice. You've been coughing an awful lot these days. Are you ill?"

"Eh. Maybe," Ice shrugged innocently, "I feel alright otherwise, though. Save it for the hospital to figure out. I've had my mask on this entire time, I doubt I caught it out here."

Lead Syringe gave her a long, burning look that caused her to wilt a bit behind the facade of her helmet. Regardless, he eventually looked away and continued counting supplies with the rest of them. Soon, most of the supply drop was packed away and ready. Crystal Trail got up and dusted her armor off, walking to a door into the back room.

"Get some rest, everypony. We fly at seven," she instructed.

Most of the day was spent sleeping in shifts. Ice had gotten the last watch, along with Pounce Chaser, Shot Stack, Radio Whistle, and Spear Bash. Together, they sat around the second floor, monitoring the surrounding buildings and streets for incursion while the others slept in a different room.

There had been another rainstorm, making Ice hopeful that the night would be clear enough to allow them to fly to their destination without taking rads.

Her foreleg mounted screen was live again as she replayed her suit camera's recording of the assault from the unknown militants on the Zebra civilians. She slowly scrubbed through the footage, taking occasional glances away to scan her surroundings. Eventually, though, she isolated three different timestamps on the footage, and gave herself a satisfied nod.

"Hey! Pounce!" Ice hissed towards the rainbow-maned mare, "C'mere."

Pounce shuffled over, having been crouched near a window, "Mhm?" she asked.

Rewinding the footage on her vidscreen, she turned it to face the older mare, "Look at this. On the militant's armor patch. You see that?"

Pounce narrowed her eyes. Through the extremely grainy, zoomed-in camera footage, she saw a red patch on the shoulder of the militants. The image of a broken cog, sewn in gold, was emblazoned on top of it. She eventually responded, "Yeah, I see it. Some sorta emblem?"

"We can see it on a bunch of the other's armor, though in different places cause they weren't exactly uniformed," Ice said, switching through more saved images showing similarly grainy patches on other members of the militant attackers.

"Uh huh. You think you can try and track them down with that?" Pounce asked.

"Seems pretty signature. We can probably ask around once this mission's over-"

Spear Bash suddenly spoke up, turning around from her place at a window, "What're you on about?"

Ice and Pounce shared a look, before the former turned towards the large mare and responded, "We think we found some identifying markers on the ponies that stole that Z- that family."

Spear Bash grunted, rolling her eyes, "Hey! I'm not the biggest fan of Stripes, but you don't gotta fucking sugarcoat that shit for me," she said as she turned towards the window.

Shot Stack, for his part, got up and cautiously stepped over rubble, walking towards them, "Hold up, can I see too?"

Ice complied, showing him the screen.

"Huh," he marvelled, "Good eye, Ice."

"The camera had the good eye. Not me. We all missed it when we were in the heat of the moment," Ice admitted.

"What's it matter anyway? They could be anywhere by now," Spear Bash grunted.

"Probably not. They were taking the civvies somewhere. Maybe we could track them down?" Pounce proposed, "Shoot up their camp. They didn't have any firepower we couldn't handle."

"On the street? Sure they didn't. Might be a different fucking story when they're encamped," Spear Bash turned around from the window once again, this time properly sitting down with her back against the wall.

"Spear Bash's afraid of something? Awwwh..." Ice teased, wishing she could pout from behind her respirator to sell the tone.

Still, it seemed to work as the mare sat, smoldering for a moment, before admitting, "...No. I just don't think saving a few stripes worth our own hides."

Pounce Chaser folded her forelegs, frowning, "That shit with the foals being taken didn't sit right with me. I know it didn't with any of you, either, did it?"

As expected, nopony answered. Spear Bash simply shifted uncomfortably.

"I mean. They said they were gonna rape them. I don't think it matters if you're black and white or pink and purple, that just ain't right," Ice agreed, looking between her comrades, "I think if we get the chance, we should enact a little bit of justice."

Radio Whistle chuckled, "Good luck getting that idea past Lightning Bringer," he said from his own lookout perch.

"Might not need to," Pounce Chaser said, a sly undertone to her voice, "Plenty of opportunity for us to lose GPS tracking and radio contact with home base. When we regain contact, we can just say they shot first. I'm sure Ice could throw something together to make sure our vidfeeds can't contradict that story?"

Ice looked up at the camera mounted on Pounce's helmet, glad that they had all mutually agreed to switch off their microphone feeds once they'd started to chat, "You can just turn off your camera, y'know. I could make something to have the health tracker register a hit, though."

"Nah. Don't need to injure us, just need to have shot near us," Shot Stack suggested, "Maybe their prisoners will still be there."

"This sounds like hero complex shit. 51st ain't heroes, we're recon," Spear Bash argued, "Getting killed over some over inflated sense of self is for the Rangers."

"Come on, Spear, we'd let you use overcharged cells in your gatlings~" Ice sing-songed, which only made Spear Bash groan.

Despite this, she still seemed to seriously consider the offer, folding her forelegs, before eventually surrendering the point, "Get the rest of the crew on board, and sure yeah I'll do it."

Unfortunately, there was little time for a team discussion away from the commslink of their commanding officer. An hour later they were in the air, flying for their next objective. Indeed, the rainstorm had left the skies calm enough to allow for smooth operation.

The jet black suits of power armor blended well with the dark sky above as they flew in an arrowhead formation. A dot of brilliant pale light was forming on the horizon, highly contrasted in the ambient light boosting night vision.

"Looks like we got our target. Electric lighting," Crystal Trail reported, "According to automap, we're approaching the location tag of Stable Eighty-Three."

"Affirmative 51. Ascend to the safety ceiling and descend in a corkscrew pattern once over the site. Get us a panoramic view and scan for how many pips we're looking at. Do not lower yourself beyond a hundred meters, or to where those spotlights can see you."

Crystal Trail simply copied with an affirmative as she flapped her wings and gained altitude, approaching the safe operational ceiling, only a hundred meters or so below the cloud line.

They continued to fly until they passed over the target area, before turning and beginning to slowly descend. From what Ice could observe, it was an old city park, clear of buildings. A ditch had been dug towards a large opening in the earth, where she assumed the Stable Door was placed.

The entire dearth in the park had been fortified with scrap iron walls. Concrete bricks shored up said iron walls, with cruel makeshift barbed wire topping them. Switching off night vision to avoid the glare of the bright lights, the contents of the secured compounds could be seen. At ground level, a few ports had been made in the walls for machinegun nests to be placed. Zooming in, Ice spotted a few turrets sitting in the nests. Other than those, there were very few inward-facing defensive areas. There wasn't even a fallback point... though she suspected the Stable itself, being underground, was fortified in some way.

"Automated defenses. Looks makeshift. Probably stole a targeting matrix from a robot," Ice assessed.

"They've definitely been here for a while though. Those fortifications are impressive," Shot Stack also observed, "...Though they ain't got nothing to defend them from the air."

As they continued to descend, dots began to appear on their compass. All yellow... for now. Crystal Trail counted each one as they appeared, until they counted around twenty. Most of the signatures were corroborated by visuals on several ponies walking around on the ground.

"51, can you verify if the ponies in the compound are wearing Stable Tec jumpsuits?"

"Come again?" Crystal Trail asked.

"The Stable-Tec jumpsuits. You've seen advertisements before. Any of the grounders wearing them?"

Another zoom level was engaged. Aside from coat colours, not a single lick of blue was visible anywhere in the compound. Trail answered, "Negative, Command. We're looking at simple leather barding over here."

"Affirmative, 51. When possible, assess whether or not they're armed."

Slowly, the squad continued to corkscrew downwards towards the camp. More dots on the compass were picked up, rising until the number reached around 40. Already, a few things seemed off to Ice. Notably was the fact that the camp had several permanent structures. Houses, huts, concrete stronghouses... there were even fires set up outside.

"Never been in a Stable myself, Command, but I thought they had... y'know, stuff down there. Like beds, heating, showers, n'all," Sugar Beach mentioned, "Why're they building so much on the surface? Wouldn't it be better to live downstairs? Probably more defensible too."

"Intel suggests the Stable may have been stripped for parts. Keep your eyes out."

As the ground got closer and the lights got brighter, fortunately not bright enough to risk exposing them, they finally got enough of a visual on the grounders to make their equipment. Leather barding, very little professional combat gear, and a combination of normal and makeshift weapons. Ice frowned, their loadouts seemed familiar.

"We're looking at amateurish weapons. The majority of them have some form of long gun, though. No mechanized equipment, no anti-air," Crystal Trail surmised with the slight tilt of her head.

"Level off your altitude there. Try and get a view down the dip in the earth and see if you can make out anything down there."

Stopping their descent and orbiting the camp clockwise, the squad's views zoomed down the small cave at the far end of the fortified compound. There were signs of a metal platform of some kind, as well as a gear-shaped hole in the wall. It reminded Ice heavily of Stable 001, the one back home in Canterlot, though missing its main door.

Switching through a couple of views, eventually switching to low-level light amplification, they could finally see what was beyond the door.

Nothing. Rocks and dirt lay behind the door. It seemed like they were mining in as well, as a rail track with a mining cart had been constructed leading out of the door. With a sigh, Crystal Trail eventually finished the report, "Stable entrance looks collapsed. Evidence of mining operations tracked."

"...Very well, 51. Flag off, secure a camp, and await further orders. I will convene with command crew as soon as your position is secured."

Pounce Chaser, flying just in front of Ice, suddenly decreased speed and tapped Ice on the shoulder with a hind hoof. Attention gained, Ice undid her zoom and looked up towards the older mare.

Pounce's eyes were locked on the walls of the base, where she eventually pointed firmly with a hoof.

Re-engaging her zoom, Ice tried to trace the leading edge of Pounce's hoof. Eventually, her blood froze as she finally acquired what was being indicated.

Draped over the side of the walls, next to a gatehouse, was a red banner. On it was a cracked open cog, sewn in gold.

Ice clenched her teeth. She had the feeling she was about to do something very, very stupid.