Fallout Equestria: The Indefatigable

December 6, 1277 - Mission Day 58

A sharp blade through scarred, scabbed flesh. A slight hiss of pain, a spray of blood, and a groan of mechanical frustration from the entity floating to his right.

"You illiterate chic-pattern rug! You're doing it on purpose!" the Steward Gutsy shouted, raising a clenched claw in the direction of Ivory Heart. The robot had said the same thing many times before, repeating over its dialogue in an endless loop.

Ivory immediately grabbed a nearby rag to hold to his wound, a slight twitch coming to his lips. Butter Apron looked up from his own station, where he was doing his best to de-bone a fish, his face sullen and tired. Ivory hadn't even meant to do it that time... at least he thought he didn't. They probably thought he was just doing it to skip work or to get attention... in all honesty, work was better than languishing in his bunk all day.

"Come on, Heart, let's get yous down to the infirmary," Butter Apron said, giving a look towards the Steward.

"Mr. Heart can report to the medics on his own, Mr Apron," the robot said firmly, hovering around a counter to access a pot that had just come to boil.

Butter Apron grabbed Ivory by the shoulder, the touch feeling rough and sharp, "I'll be escortin Ivory to the infirmary meself, boss."

"You'll do no such thing! Just because the zebra wants to sabotage my operation by cutting himself to ribbons and going for a jab of stimmies every day doesn't mean I can lose my best cook!" the Steward complained, continuing its work as its dull, glass eyes tasked themselves with staring at Ivory and Butter at the same time.

"Yeah well I thinks nopony's treatin' my friend right, so yous can file your very strongly worded complaint if yous want," Apron said, tugging on the sleeve of Ivory's uniform and tilting his head towards the doorway urgingly.

Ivory didn't complain. The job was only worth anything because the alternative was probably being tossed in a cell. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he could convince an MA to just put a sick dog down.

There might've been more complaints as they left the kitchen. Ivory's ears flicked at it, but they didn't hear anything. The walk to the infirmary was just as usual - a long walk down a long, grey corridor and down a set of grey stairs past a grey bulkhead and into a blindingly grey clinical environment that smelled of antiseptic and mint air fresheners. The only thing to spice up the formula was the presence of Butter Apron - the stallion who insisted to call him friend.

He'd almost begun to despise Butter for that. Thinking there was possibly something in the world to still care about paradoxically made things worse. Every time he'd ask to play cards or ask how Ivory's day was going or crack some sort of joke... maybe a few weeks ago Ivory would've answered, but now he didn't. It was just getting too hard. He was even too much of a buzzkill for the Admiral to tolerate, even when she just used him as a sounding board.

Waiting room, then come to be seen very quickly by a doctor, then a nurse would come and clean the wound and apply some healing bandages. Just as the doctor turned to leave, however, Butter stood up.

"Hey, doc."

The doctor turned around, peering through a pair of black-rimmed glasses at the earth pony, "...Yes?"

"This guy needs to see the ship's counsellor," Butter Apron said, voice almost demanding, forceful.

Great, more force was just what Ivory Heart needed in his life. More rocking of the boat. His shoulders sagged as his brain once again fluttered with thoughts.

The counsellor is very busy with other patients," the doctor said, "This is the fifteenth time this month I have seen this..." a hesitant pause, "Zebra come in here after cutting his hoof to ribbons. We have more important things to dedicate our extremely limited staff to other than soldiers who do not want to help themselves."

Butter Apron scowled, "He's clearly fuckin depressed, doc. I thought Ministry of Peace treated everycreature!"

The doctor stared at Butter for the longest while, before she eventually re-aimed her sight towards Ivory, "Mr Heart. Would you like to see a therapist?"

Ivory Heart, bleach-dry, sallow thoughts cloying at the edges of his mind, did not find the prospect of being forced to spill his guts to yet another medical pony appealing. Flatly, he said, "No."

Butter Apron gave his 'friend' a betrayed look. The doctor adjusted her glasses with a sparkle of telekinesis, and once again turned for the door, "A nurse will be in here shortly to treat you. After that, you're free to return to your duties."

Butter offered a crude gesture to the doctor as soon as she had her back to them, the door clicking shut automatically shortly after. The earth pony gave Ivory a disappointed look, "Yous needs to see a shrink."

The zebra simply returned his stare, before averting his eyes towards the floor, silent.

"Fuck's sake," Butter muttered, "I didn't beat up three ponies for this. Talk to me, Heart!"

Cold apathy in Ivory's heart was momentarily replaced by boiling rage as the muscles around his bleeding fetlock clenched. A single tear formed and rolled down his cheek as he shook his head firmly, gripping the underside of his chair like a vice.

Flow Kindheart sat on one of the benches in the waiting room of the infirmary, a book she had borrowed from the ship's expansive library in her hooves. It was on specific gastronomic conditions, some of which she'd seen before but been unable to diganose. There were things here that one couldn't find anywhere across the west coast. Heck, even that clinic in Tenpony Tower out East probably couldn't compete with the medical facilities and knowledge on this military ship.

She'd, more and more, been questioning her stance on the vessel and its commanders over the last several weeks. Before she'd been invited aboard the phantom ship, her life was simple: use her talent to make her too useful to be trashed by the Syndicate, all while helping as many ponies as possible. She had no grand aspirations of changing the wasteland, she was no hero. She was just a doctor.

Yet here she was, at the crux of it all. Aboard the key to the entirety of Las Pegasus, perhaps the entirety of the Wasteland. She couldn't help but feel an opportunity had been thrust into her hooves. Apparently, before they stole her memories, she was able to change the mind of the Admiral on rationing medicine. She had real power here, even if she was just a small part of a greater whole.

Yet, what did she want? The destruction of the Syndicate? Sure. The safety and security of the Raiders being pacified and the ability to trade upriver was nice and all, but the Phantom Ship could fill the same role without needing to compromise on the slavery and on fattening the gangs.

What then, though? The Phantoms were the new masters of Las Pegasus? Would they bring the fight to the Steel Rangers? Would they campaign out East and destroy the Slavers in Fillydelphia? Was that even something they could do?

And what happened when the supplies ran low? Maybe they solved their food problems for now, but Kindheart knew the ship consumed more than just food. Fuel, spare parts, ammunition, abraxo cleaner... what happened when they ran out? Sure, if they controlled Las Pegasus... the city was known across the Wasteland for its scrapping industry: its major exports of steel, parts, and concrete. Surely they would just make production lines to keep the ship stocked.

But who would man those production lines? The wastelanders, surely. Then their overseers would be the educated specialists from the Phantom Ship. It was more than likely that the Phantoms would just end up on top of the food chain, the Wastelanders on the bottom again. A new Syndicate, just under a new name.

Kindheart had stopped focusing on her book, eyes wandering down to her lap instead. However, even that reverie was broken when a voice came from above her.

"Miss Kindheart?" a pony she recognized - one of the corpsponies. The other mare was tired... all of the corpsponies seemed to be tired. They reminded her of herself back when she first boarded, with dark rings around her eyes and a slight odor.

"Uh, yeah?" she said, closing her book. If she had a choice, Kindheart would be tiring herself out just as much. Yet, she'd been mostly barred from doing any actual healing, much to her annoyance.

"Listen, you can do disinfection and healing bandages for a five inch gash, right?" the military nurse said, one of her forehooves tapping rapidly on the deck.

Kindheart, of course, could probably do that operation in her sleep. Still, the hope she was going to be able to treat a patient overrode the feeling of belittlement, "Yes," she answered simply.

"Okay. Room eight, a cook cut themselves. Just clean the wound and bandage it," the corpspony said quickly, before turning on hoof and cantering off to another task.

Levitating her book away, Flow Kindheart got up, making her way across the crowded waiting room. Going through to the inpatient rooms, she quickly located and walked through the number eight door. Inside, she found two stallions - one a zebra and the other an earth pony - seemingly in the middle of a very one sided discussion. The zebra stared dead ahead, a cloth fastened around his hoof, while a butter yellow stallion seemed to be urging him to talk. Upon her entry, however, the conversation stopped and both of their eyes looked up to her.

"...Hi," she said simply, pushing the door closed behind her with her telekinesis... before meeting the resistance of the automatic door closer. An awkward silence filled the room until the door finally clicked closed, "..I'm here to fix you up."

Kindheart reached for the cloth. The zebra didn't move, but also didn't protest as she examined the wound. Shortly afterwards, she grabbed a clipboard from the counter next to her and read the doctor's examination. She could barely translate the writing, but got the general understanding that there was nothing wrong aside from 'self-inflicted injuries to the right foreleg'. Pursing her lips, she reached up to the medical cabinet above the counter, only for the handle to resist her horn's pull. Locked.

"Err... ma'am?" the earth pony said, "Yous not one of the corpsponies, are ya?"

Kindheart's ear flicked in annoyance as she examined the lock holding the supply cabinet closed. She lit her horn again, taking out a bobby pin and grabbing a scalpel from the counter, "Nope. I'm a Wasteland doctor. I know how to fix a bandage, though."

"Are yous.. breaking into that cabinet?" the stallion spoke up again as she inserted the scalpel and bobby pin into the cabinet lock.

"They never gave me the keys, and the bandages and medical spirits are in here," Kindheart excused. The lock wasn't that hard; it was intermediate at best.

Fortunately, the stallion seemed to remain silent as the unicorn twisted the lock open with a click. Grabbing the handle once again, the door swung open with the blissful silence of greased hinges. Rummaging around, she got a bottle of methylated spirits and healing bandages, asking as she did so: "So, why'd you hurt yourself?"

The zebra looked up at her, staying silent.

Kindheart gave a lopsided frown as she turned around, the medical supplies levitating next to her, "I've seen this kinda stuff before plenty of times. Worst medical condition of all. When you give up, rest of the body starts giving up as well. You're looking thin too, bet you've been throwing up a lot."

The zebra's face twitched and he averted his eyes.

The butter stallion's frown deepened, "They won't let 'im see the shrink. Navy ain't too kind for stripes."

"Well he's one of you, isn't he?" Kindheart raised an eyebrow.

All she got was a shrug in response.

Kindheart's eyes scanned the patient up and down. She'd seen this terminal stage of depression before. When the local tackle-maker's husband died, he'd slowly gotten angrier and angrier... then he'd stopped talking... then he'd been found hanging from his own mechanical hoist. For once, her heart went out to one of the Phantoms.

Kneeling down, she began to work on the wound. He didn't flinch when she dabbed at him with the alcohol and didn't move his hoof under his own power when she grabbed it to wrap the wound. Slowly, she grew more and more angry... not at the patient, but at the other doctors.

"Have you been diagnosed with the blues?" Kindheart asked, tying off the bandage and looking up to the two stallions.

"Nope, but it's pretty fuckin' clear, eh?" the earth stallion muttered. The zebra stood, seemingly ready to leave.

Kindheart reached forward, grabbing one of the loose edges of his navy uniform, "Wait. Wait here for just a moment," she muttered, before pushing past him back to the countertop and the open medical cabinet.

After stowing the medical supplies she'd used, she began to scan through the shelf of different medications. Several white boxes, containing various oral medications sat there. She narrowed her eyes, looking for a specific name. Some of them she didn't recognize, some she did... but eventually her eyes landed on a box labelled with 'Precognazine'. Med-Tek was the brand written just above it.

She snatched the box, before opening it. Inside, rattling around loosely as if it was a mint tin, were several small green-colored tablets. Closing it again, she held the box out to the two stallions, "I hereby diagnose you with terminal sadness and prescribe you this. Take it no more than once a day and with plenty of water, it's highly addictive," a pause, "And don't tell anypony I gave it to you neither."

The earth stallion's ears perked, "...Precognazine? Isn't that what theys calls Mint-Als?"

"The only thing I've ever seen work for stuff like this," Kindheart gave a firm frown, "It'll help him get out of his head."

The zebra stared at the box for the longest time. For a split second, his irises moved up to lock onto Kindheart's... only for them to disengage immediately afterwards. After a few moments, he reached up, snatching the box and stuffing it into a pocket. Soon afterwards, he pushed past and out the door. The earth stallion made for the same move, a thankful nod given towards her.

"I need to make sure he's taking those responsibly. Where do you guys work?" Kindheart asked.

He paused in the doorframe, "...Wardroom kitchen. It's ons deck three."

Kindheart nodded, before giving him a pat on the shoulder, "Thank you, by the way."

Once again, he paused halfway out the door, "Heh?"

"Blues's the most serious condition in the Wasteland. Creatures with the Blues need friends like you," Kindheart said somberly, despite the wistful smile on her face, "And I know it's tough, being that friend. One day, though, you'll know it was all worth it."

The stallion nodded slowly in understanding, before saying, "Thanks, Miss..?"

"Flow Kindheart."

"Thanks yous, Miss Kindheart," he said, before the door snapped shut behind him.

Admiral Azure Bluette cantered down the stairs towards the Command and Information Center, imbedded deep inside of the ship. Two Rangers stood to either side of the door, giving her a slight, stiff nod as she walked past them and into the command center.

Banks of computers, controls, and displays surrounded her as she stepped inside. A holographic map showed the position of the ship relative to the mapped surroundings, in a way that mirrored a PipBuck's automapper with more tactical information. Chatter from various ensigns and officers came as they received information from across the ship and coordinated their various departments.

The CIC's purpose, as opposed to the Bridge located in the ship's superstructure, was to coordinate the ship from the safety of the interior hull. Too easily, a ship's command crew could be wiped out by a strike to its superstructure, and now that they were close enough to land that possibly anti-vehicle and small arms fire could be deployed towards the vulnerable superstructure, they'd chosen to move most command activities down below.

Through yet another door with yet another Ranger standing outside was a briefing area. It was much smaller than the main conference area, with just a table and around ten chairs stationed around it. Captain Anchor, Commander Lightning Bringer, Commander Calm Seas, Captain Brass Bugle, and the representative from the Las Pegasus Contingent - an earth pony named Roaring Thunder, were all seated and waiting for her.

Pushing the door behind her closed with a hind leg, Azure said in a clipped tone, "Somepony tell me why our working relationship with the survivors has been violently ended?"

Calm Seas, forehead and uniform soaked with sweat and her whole body slightly shivering, looked over to Lightning Bringer. The MoA mare sighed, turning towards the Admiral, "As I said in my report, the 51st Recon went off-mission and eliminated around forty armed militants at Site Romeo on the night of December 2nd," the mare grit her teeth, "Without my orders."

"Yes, yes I understand that. We were meant to disavow any involvement with that massacre," Azure grunted, sitting down at the end of the table.

Calm Seas sighed, reaching a shivering hoof out for a bottle of water. After slugging back half of the glass, she gave a sick-sounding hiccup before explaining in a shaky voice, "I-I don't know how. They apparently were able to reason that they were attacked from above. P-Perhaps the use of energy weapons?"

"What's gotten you so shaky?" the Admiral asked, adjusting the office chair she was sitting on for her height.

"In order to escape the council hall," Calm Seas gave a sound that sounded like it belonged somewhere between a burp and a retch, "...I, uh, needed to take a cocktail of PEDs. T-That's why I needed a medic before I could... d-debrief."

"So they're hostile, then?" Captain Bugle questioned.

"They seemed intent on either beating me to death or taking me to be lynched, yes," Calm Seas confirmed, taking another sip of water.

"Then their leader collapsed?" Captain Anchor spoke up, sitting opposite from the Admiral.

"I-I noticed that he did, yes... I was rather distracted with unlocking the exit to escape," Calm Seas nodded in an unnaturally jittery way.

"What about our assets at Gun Rush? The Vertibuck, the Rangers? The two MAs?" Azure asked.

"Word travelled slowly out of the council. I radioed them as s-soon as I was free. They retreated unharmed," Calm Seas hiccuped again, covering her muzzle for a few seconds before continuing, "C-Confirmed my suspicions. They aren't sophisticated enough to have radio commlinks between sections."

Lightning Bringer frowned, "Well if they weren't hostile, you pulling out as fast as you did probably confirmed the whole thing in their heads."

"She preserved herself and her subordinates against imminent danger, Commander," Captain Anchor grunted, leaning forward, "You did your best, Exo."

"Thank you, Captain," Calm Seas breathed a heavy sigh.

Roaring Thunder brushed some of his longer-than-regulation yellow mane out of his eyes revealing a very curious, blunted stump on his forehead, "So. I see you've learned how Tribals can be..."

Azure stared long and hard at the stump, her brain eventually realizing it was the base of a sawn-off unicorn horn. The rest of the room's eyes were directed in a similar direction, causing the stallion to slowly look up at his own forehead as well.

"Ah, well-" he chuckled, reaching up to touch the nub self-consciously, "Unicorn horns don't fit into Steel Ranger armor, and I was useless as a scribe."

Azure Bluette was the first to blink her shock away, before she coughed and looked around the room, "What's our intel, then? Enemy movements?"

"Hard to tell. The city may be abandoned and ruined, but it's still an urban environment. We've deployed a Warsprite, but they're finding it difficult to track movements amongst the ruins, especially when some of those can be civilian caravans moving between settlements," Captain Anchor reported with a somber frown.

"Warsprite?" Roaring Thunder suddenly asked.

"It's a heavy jet aircraft with an advanced sensor suite. We use it for scouting and intel-gathering," Lightning Bringer explained.

"Have you tried going above the cloud curtain with it?" Thunder leaned forward, ears perking up.

"Nope. The cloud curtain has a heavy amount of ionization in it. Anything we put through there will likely get fried," Bringer shook her head.

"Hmm..." Roaring Thunder muttered, leaning back into his seat once again.

Azure Bluette looked towards Calm Seas, "Any chance of a peaceful resolution to all this?"

Calm Seas, for her part, shook her head, "F-For what I can tell, the raiders aren't those to be reasoned with. Without their leader, I believe they will quickly radicalize against us."

"Know that you'll all have the full support of the Steel Rangers if it comes to war," Roaring Thunder assured.

Azure opened her mouth to ask another question, but the loud bell of the interphone ringing on the briefing room wall interrupted her. Captain Anchor, the closest high-ranking officer to it, got out of his chair and walked over to answer it, "Captain Anchor," he said as he placed the receiver to the side of his head.

He said no more as the muffled voice of the pony on the other side came through the set. Firmly frowning, he placed the interphone back on the receiver, before beginning to walk towards the door, "That was Lieutenant Charm. We might be under attack."

At that, everypony launched from their seats. Emerging from the briefing room, Azure immediately noticed the change in attitude amongst the officers around the CIC. Rather than leaning back in their seats and watching monitors, ponies were ramrod straight, hooves, telekinesis, and wings rapidly dancing around terminals and controls.

Walking through the CIC, they arrived at the command area, where one of the ship's lieutenants was minding the tactical map. Said lieutenant - the ship's third officer - saluted at the sight of the Captain and the Admiral, "Ma'am, sir! Armed combatants have been spotted on the other side of the gangway!"

Admiral Bluette looked up towards the bank of screens, showing the ship's exterior cameras. Several ponies, marked with red outlines by the ship's EFS scanners, had gathered behind cover on the other side of the long, makeshift bridge that connected the ship's flight deck with land. Reaching down and pressing a few buttons, the camera view zoomed in on the armed infantry.

"Raiders," Roaring Thunder immediately confirmed, reaching a hoof to tap the screen, indicating the makeshift, spiked armor the militants were wearing, "Probably armed with Anti-Machine rifles."

"Who's in charge of deck security?" Captain Anchor asked, walking over to the communications console.

"Lieutenant Full Clip, Marines," the third officer explained.

Dialing in the correct radio ID, the Captain picked up a radio receiver and barked into it, "Lieutenant Clip! Report!"

Through the crackle of the console's speakers, the Ranger stallion responded, "My crew has taken cover. They've made no attempt to cross the bridge thus far, but we've heard shots from the Survivor city. Not directed at us, we don't think."

Roaring Thunder scoffed, "What the hell do they think they're doing? Tribal gets an A-M Rifle and thinks they rule the goddamn world. You've got mounted weapons on this ship, right?"

Admiral Azure gave Thunder a cautious side-eye, before looking towards the weapons officer sitting a few rows down from her, "Weapons, arm the port side CIWS. Take manual control of Turret Three, do not fire without my direct order."

"Aye, ma'am!" the weapons officer responded. On a system status screen displaying the ship from a top down angle, several dots on the port side turned red. Text next to them read 'ARMED'.

"Captain. They're broadcasting demands over a loudspaker," the comms console squawked again.

"What're they saying?" Captain Anchor asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down, receiver still floating in front of him.

A pause, "...They're demanding we give them the ponies who shot up their base. They're saying they've taken hostages and have rocket launchers."

"Can they pierce the hull?" Admiral Azure asked calmly, walking down the length of the consoles, eyes firmly staring up at the various tactical displays.

"Depends what kind of rocket launcher. Our turrets have individual shields, but sustained fire could likely damage them," the weapons officer surmised, now handling a keyboard that directly controlled one of the ship's anti-air laser turrets.

"Hull's too thick, unless they're carrying a balefire launcher," Lightning Bringer shook her head.

Azure pursed her lips, before nodding to herself, "They may be trying to stop us from scrambling aircraft."

"Why?" Bugle asked, having been standing back and mostly silent as the navy personnel worked the ship.

"We depend on their trade for food. If we can't scramble aircraft, we can't use Vertibucks to attack them," Azure guessed, "They're planning on besieging us."

"They say they just want justice, Captain. They claim we've killed some of 'em" the speaker said, the pony on the other side being oblivious to the conversation being held out of earshot of the radio's microphone.

Azure Bluette ran her tongue across her teeth as her practiced, tactical mind drew up a plan, "Commander Lightning Bringer? What's the status of the 51st?"

Lightning Bringer's eyes widened, "Ma'am, you aren't seriously considering...?"

"Giving them up? No," Azure Bluette shook her head firmly, "Their suits are built for stealth. They might be the only ones who can safely get past their siege."

Roaring Thunder frowned, "Huh? You have guns trained on them, right? Those tin shacks aren't going to be able to protect them from the laser fire!"

Azure waved a hoof dismissively towards the Survivor Ranger, "They've taken hostages, and there's civilians in the way. Too risky. There's a much more elegant way to approach this."

Lightning Bringer nodded, "They 51st has been placed on standby for the past two days pending disciplinary measures."

Azure Bluette sighed, tapping her hoof, "...Tell them to arm up. They'll fly immediately to the Blueblood Academy. From there, they will assault the Gun Rush Casino with the help of the Rangers. Not too aggressively, mind you, they just need to move to threaten it. A full assault would likely result in too many casualties."

Roaring Thunder finally seemed to understand, "They depend on the Stables there for food. They'll have to move back to defend it."

"Our ship's Ranger-Marines have special suits of power armor that're waterproof," Azure gave a slight smile, turning towards Captain Bugle, "Get your ponies ready. They'll jump into the water from the starboard side, the side facing away from the enemy, then walk underwater to the shore. Once we have more intel, you'll be in a position to assault the enemy taking shelter there."

Bugle grinned, "I'll have us bring along some tear gas. We can mortar strike the town with it as part of an ambush. Doesn't look like they have any eye and airway protection."

Azure Bluette was a navy mare, not very educated in the concepts of infantry warfare, but she trusted the ranger-marine captain, "Sounds good, but you'll be staying here with half of your forces. Once we can eliminate any anti-air weapons from the town, you'll be scrambled to assault the Gun Rush," she spared a look towards the hornless unicorn, "Your ponies have override keys for Stable doors?"

Roaring Thunder gave a single, firm nod.

"Once we are able to sortie aircraft, we'll attack the Gun Rush Casino in a pitched battle. With air support and powered armor, the battle will be very one-sided. Once we capture their food supply, they'll likely have to surrender," Azure Bluette reasoned.

"I wouldn't count on it," Roaring Thunder frowned, "Tribals are foolhardy folk."

Azure Bluette wanted to question him on his word choice, but decided it was a question better saved for later, "Captain? Sound general quarters. We're at war."

BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG!

Once again, Ice Slushee launched herself out of bed at the sound of the alarm. As the announcement of general quarters rang through the ship, her and her squad hurriedly scrambled down the stairs into the power armory. In a single quick maneuver, they donned their power armor, the all-too-familiar sounds of its pumps spinning up and electromagical systems booting filling her ears as she donned her helmet and respirator.

Quickly, before their CO opened a commlink and began monitoring their inventory and health statuses, she diverted a cheeky pop of one of her Dash canisters through her respirator, huffing in the sweet scent as the rest of the squad armed up.

Lungs clear, she sprinted ahead of the squad to the ship's exterior hatches, only to be stopped as the voice of Lightning Bringer finally came in over the comms.

"51, Commander Lightning Bringer. You're all fucking lucky bastards."

"Ready to learn why, Command!" Crystal Trail reported with sharp formality.

"We need you to sortie. Move to the starboard side hatches, not the flight deck hatches. The ship has been besieged by the buddies of those ponies you slaughtered."

Ice pursed her lips, turning with unnatural grace and walking towards the hangar and towards the starboard hatches, the rest of the squad doing the same.

"You're to immediately fly to the Blueblood Academy under radio silence and with the use of StealthBucks in order to evade possible enemy SAM positions. Once there, you will pass on a message. Message has been transmitted to your onboard computers."

"We're really under attack?" Shot Stack huffed as the entire squad's HUD lit up with scrolling text information, a log being downloaded, "Why don't we just fucking sail away?"

"Negative, 51. They have hostages. After you contact the Steel Rangers at the Academy, you'll take part in a feign assault on enemy positions at the Gun Rush Casino. Command has reasoned this is an important tactical position to the enemy and will result in them abandoning positions near the ship, leaving them more vulnerable to assault from the Ranger-Marines."

"Understood, Command," Crystal Trail nodded.

"Steel Rangers? At the Blueblood Academy? Are they ours?" Sugar Beach muttered, confused. Lightning Bringer didn't answer her, though.

They arrived at the exterior hatches, where several of the Ranger-Marines were arming up as well, spools of rope being released down into the ocean. Doing some final checks, the squad queued up their StealthBuck peripherals as they lined up for takeoff.

"51, be advised, your RoE has changed. Knights, Paladins, Scribes, Initiates, and others aligning with the Las Pegasus Steel Rangers are considered allied units. All other armed, non-Navy personnel are to be canvassed as enemy insurgents. This is now officially a wartime environment."

Ice's brain had little time, ironically enough, to consider the meaning behind those words. The electric zap of their StealthBucks initiating and covering them in a see-through cloak filled the air as they spread their wings and took off, taking a wide flying circle around the occupied town and up the river towards the army base.