The War of Moon and Sun

March – April 1008

“W… what?” asked Mellow.

“Wouldn’t you be interested in going back to Manehattan,” Tempest repeated, “to work for our victory there?”

“You mean as your agent?” The stallion narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you think that’s weird, after I managed to escape that incarnation of Horswell’s book ‘1084’ by pure chance? And now you’re suggesting I go back there?!”

“Private Mellow…” Aurora snapped at him. “Stand down!”

Greg himself hadn’t expected to talk to the general of the Equestrian Army so easily. I guess the point is that I’m basically a civilian who was shoved into a military uniform and thrown to the front, he thought. And even here, I’m just part of the honor guard. Because… well, really, who in their right mind would attack the Empire right now? Unless, Celestia forbid, Chrysalis who’d lost her mind… or worse, Sombra who’d come back from oblivion… but that’s not gonna happen today, is it?

Tempest Shadow got up from the table and walked to the window.

“We still don’t know the plans of Nightmare Moon and her criminal regime,” she said, looking out at the sprawling Crystal City, “neither on the battlefield nor on the local populations in the lands they seek to take over. And while intelligence can help with the former, the latter remains a mystery. And that’s why we need our own pony in Manehattan. Otherwise, we’ll still be in the dark about what we’re saving Equestria from. It would also be nice to know about the development of weapons for the Lunar Army…”

“So send one of your trained ponies!” Greg exclaimed. “Why do you need me?!”

“Five!” Tempest said sharply as she turned, and Mellow swallowed as he met her gaze with a look of cold anger. “Five of our agents died during the infiltration before they could even begin their work! Each of them had undergone specialized training, but each time they failed. They were all from Manehattan, but had moved to Canterlot, Ponyville or other Equestrian cities before the war. Something must have tipped them off. I think the problem was that they weren’t there when it all blew up. They needed time to figure things out… and that’s what ruined them. Which means we need someone who doesn’t have to do any recon. Someone who already knows what’s going on and can get right to work.”

“But… I’m not a spy,” Greg muttered. “I’m just an ordinary clerk from the transport company… Why do you want to send me?”

“Because you’ve been in their horseshoes,” Tempest replied, sitting back down across the table from him. “You know how they think and what to expect from them. You know what it’s like to pretend. ‘They’ are those who serve the Lunar Republic, willingly or by force. Our former fellow citizens against whom we are now forced to fight.” The general looked at the soldier. “So, what’s your answer, Greg Mellow?”

The gray pony looked back. His head was spinning with what he really thought of this adventure.

“With all due respect…” he began in a suddenly hoarse voice and coughed. He cleared his throat and tried again, “With all due respect, General… I refuse. I simply won’t be able to stay in the city where I’d lived all my life before the war and where’s no freedom now. I’m sorry, but I’d rather be part of those who will come there with our victory.”

“I could order you to,” Tempest said. “But I won’t. Otherwise, you’ll start sabotaging the orders. Well, I respect your choice, Private Mellow. But I hope you’ll change your mind. Because there’s no one else for this job. When you’re in Canterlot, pay a visit to the hospital. Look at those who’ve been affected by this war. And every one of them has a family that’s had a hard time, too… And the sooner we destroy the roots of evil, the fewer ponies will have to bear the burden of this conflict.”

A hoof in a shiny black slipper slid some paper toward Greg.

“Meanwhile, this. A non-disclosure agreement. Everything you’ve just heard is not to leave this office. Otherwise,” Tempest’s eyes narrowed, “we’ll have to deal with you under the laws of wartime.”

After Greg and Aurora had signed, the general rose again and the two stood up with her.

“I won’t keep you. Go back to your quarters. Tomorrow, we leave for Canterlot, after which you will return to your unit. And if you change your mind,” she glanced at Greg, “I’ll be at General Headquarters. Three blocks from the castle, Unicorn Street, house fourteen. Ask for me and they’ll let you in. That’s all. You may go. Keep serving Equestria.”

As the door closed behind them and the guardspony waiting outside escorted them down the corridor, Aurora shook her head. “I can’t believe…”

“Believe what?” Greg snorted. “That we just talked, pony to pony? Or that I said no?”

“Both. Greg, you—”

“Lieutenant,” Mellow turned to her, “judge for yourself. The meeting was organized to be off the record, so it was obviously unofficial. And General Shadow wasn’t acting like a commander, she was just a pony who needed my help for some reason. But alas, she chose the wrong person to do it for her.”

“And yet…” Aurora hesitated. “Why did you refuse?”

“I already told you.” The stallion sighed. “Because I was there. And I know what it’s like to live in a city infested with this lunar plague, if you’re not as fucked up as almost everyone else around you. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want to be myself. That’s why I came to you in the first place. And…” he paused, “I didn’t have any friends there… I mean, in Manehattan. Already in prison I met two guys… and I was sent to the front with them. But one of them was a staunch Luna’s supporter… and the other was killed when he tried to surrender at Canterlot. Killed by a batpony from our squad. I don’t want either of their fates for myself. And I don’t even know which one is more terrible.”

“But you weren’t afraid,” the white pony said.

“No. At least not at the suggestion. But rather at the thought that I might actually turn into a pony whose role I would play.”

“Well…”

They walked on in silence. Each was thinking about their own but would probably give a lot to know the thoughts of the other.

Canterlot’s buildings were catching his eye, and he couldn’t help but stare at them more and more.

Decorated with rare and expensive stone, marble and mica mosaics, topped with ornate turrets and gazing out with narrow, elaborate windows, the houses lined up in a procession like aristoponies on their way to a ball at the Princess’ castle.

Greg swiveled his head in every direction, trying not to miss a single detail that might have caught his eye. From time to time, he had to look down at the street to avoid a pompous carriage or a military truck with the sun emblem.

Manehattan was different. There, the buildings were simple concrete boxes to be lived in, not admired; or glassy needles pointing skyward, staring out at the metropolis like cold sentinels. But there were some exceptions – like the opera house…

Greg sighed heavily, remembering that.

…the opera house where forty-two ponies had been burned alive one November night.

Buildings like that – buildings that stood out from the mass, with stories of their own – were either destroyed in a fit of blind rage or draped in banners and turned into strongholds of the new government. Like the former Crystal Empire consulate, which became the Lunar Chancellery after the diplomatic mission was shot.

Greg exhaled through his teeth and shook his head.

Stop thinking about it. Manehattan is in the past. As long as it’s the same there, I won’t go back.

Catching the questioning looks of the passersby, the gray pony turned away and quickened his pace. The mood was irrevocably ruined.

…When they returned to Canterlot after the summit, through the same portal that had brought them to the Empire, Aurora, with Princess Celestia’s personal permission, had given each of them two days’ leave. The money they’d received from the treasury was enough for an average hotel, and there was even enough left over for a few visits to cafes, but Greg didn’t feel comfortable throwing it away. After all, every wasted coin was someone’s bullet or grenade fuse not delivered on time. Little things that could bring the end of the war one day closer – or give the enemy a chance to break through.

Oh shit, not again… Why can’t I get this damn war out of my mind?! Why can’t I stop thinking about it?! Mellow sighed. Probably ‘cause I don’t have a home to come to after work, look out the window at the sunset, and tell myself that another day of this fucking life has passed. All I’ve got so far is either a dugout at the front or the barracks at Cliffmark. A hotel room on a rare vacation in Canterlot. And how nice it would be… no, no, to Discord with Manehattan! Screw it… screw it.

What’s wrong with me? I just wanted to walk around and look at the buildings… Wait, what’s that?

Greg stopped and listened.

There was soft music coming from somewhere nearby, as if someone was playing strings. Looking around, the stallion noticed that he was standing next to a large white building with a dozen medical carriages lined up outside, and a red cross emblem with Celestia’s sun above the entrance.

Yeah, must be the military hospital Tempest Shadow told me to go to.

Attracted by the music, Greg headed for the building.

The soldiers guarding the entrance gave him indifferent glances but did not stop him. They probably thought the gray pony in his carefully cleaned and ironed field uniform was just visiting some of his comrades.

Greg didn’t dissuade them. After all, I didn’t come here to carry out a terrorist attack…

The nurse at the emergency room post paid no attention to the stallion. Looking through the papers, she was shaking her head and humming softly to herself, repeating the tune not very skillfully.

Trying not to make any noise, Greg brushed past her and walked down the hallway.

The music was getting closer. Its sounds, slender and harmonious, but without a hint of classical dreariness, stirred his ears, serving as a kind of beacon to which Greg moved like a moth in the semi-darkness of the corridor.

At last, the gray pony entered the spacious recreation room – and stopped, leaning sideways against the corner.

The large room was filled with other ponies. Some were dressed in robes, others in military uniforms, with bandaged heads or legs, or in wheelchairs. Almost the entire department must have been gathered here.

And they were all listening to the mint green unicorn playing on a makeshift stage of crates in front of them. In the yellow field of telekinesis, she held a lyre in front of her, and with her eyes closed, she played the strings with her magic.

The melody she was playing wasn’t very complicated, but Greg suddenly realized that he couldn’t just walk away. Somehow the lyre’s tinkling caught his attention, and he could not take his eyes off the unicorn and her instrument.

In half a minute, the cheerful, lively melody had pushed the dark thoughts of war to the back of his mind, instilling confidence instead of anxiety and bliss instead of despondency. Greg even found he could barely keep from stomping to the music’s beat.

Finally, the melody climbed up and ended on a high note. Everyone cheered and whistled, and Greg also tapped his hooves on the floor with a smile.

The unicorn nodded, accepting the applause, and waited for the noise to die down before she spoke, “…And I would like to end the main part of the performance with a new composition, which I have named ‘Time.’[1] I hope you will enjoy it. Perhaps you will remember what you want to return to, revive in your memory something precious. Or maybe you will think of something important that you would like to realize but have not yet understood. And I think the melody you are about to hear will be just right.”

There was silence as the mare prepared to perform. Nopony dared not make a sound, lest it disturb her. Greg also froze in anticipation, wondering what he would hear.

The lyre made the first sound. Then another. Then one more and more.

Four notes formed a simple motif. So simple that it was unbelievable. But at the same time, that very introduction touched something in Greg’s heart.

The four notes repeated, but the second was deliberately dissonant.

The unicorn took a deep breath and continued to play.

Her soft melody of just a few notes, born from the strings of her lyre, filled the recreation room like the scent of perfume from an open vial. The music was quiet, but it knocked as if directly at the soul.

Greg swallowed. He suddenly imagined himself as a foal playing on the playground behind the house in Manehattan. His mom was sitting on a bench nearby, talking to the other mares, his dad was at work in the office and would be back in the evening. From down the street he could hear the hoofsteps of ponies scurrying along the sidewalks and the wheels of passing carriages whirring.

The sun was shining brightly from the cloudless summer sky, and birds were singing from the trees planted near the brick high-rise…

It was a time when the future seemed bright and serene. It was a time when Stalliongrad hadn’t even seceded yet, when Nightmare Moon hadn’t returned, and the Crystal Empire was still in a thousand-year oblivion. When the most serious thing was the accident of three wagons on Bridleway, when all it took to hide from all fears was a blanket over the head.

But most importantly, it was home.

A home that Greg clung to even after the war began, until it was unceremoniously snatched away from him.

The lyre’s melody was joined by an undertone; then the unicorn returned to the main theme, but now it was louder, and the strings creaked sharply with aggressive plucking. Sweat broke out on the mint-green pony’s forehead, but she squeezed her eyes shut and kept playing, not even stopping to catch her breath.

Suddenly, Greg realized that he could barely breathe because of the lump in his throat and something wet was running down his cheek.

What on Equus… he thought. I was so blind… and overconfident. I said I wanted to go home, but I refused to fight for it, reassuring myself that I could still make it… But I also may not be able to. On the contrary, by my own inaction, I would only allow the lunar dictatorship to strengthen its criminal power in the place where I was born. And will I even be worthy of returning there when it’s over, knowing that I didn’t do my best? The question, as they say, is rhetorical.

The melody, which had reached its climax, was suddenly cut off.

The unicorn played again, one after the other, the same four notes with which she had begun her performance. Then, just as slowly, the next four, and then she let go of the strings, letting them ring until they fell silent.

Only then did she sigh and open her eyes, looking around at the audience.

At first quiet, then louder and louder came the stomping of applause. Many were crying, but that didn’t stop them from whistling and clapping.

The unicorn bowed slightly and looked at everyone with a smile.

“And now,” she exclaimed with deliberate cheerfulness, as if to soften the impact of the piece she had just performed, “does anypony want an encore?”

The crowd clamored to offer their options.

Greg turned silently and walked away.

Thank you, whoever you are, he thought as he walked back down the hall. For opening my eyes and allowing me to see everything. I’ve been running away from fate for so long that I almost ran away from myself. What would I have become? I don’t even want to imagine.

What is to be, will be.

General Tempest, I’m ready.

“I hope you realize there’s no turning back,” Tempest Shadow said, rummaging through her desk drawer. “And that from now until the end of your mission, you will report to me and the Intelligence Office. And that end may not come for a very long time… if, of course, you live to see it.”

“I understand,” Greg replied dully, sitting across from her. “I told you; I’ve changed my mind. I realize the responsibility… and I want to be useful.”

It was just the two of them in Tempest’s office in the Equestrian General Headquarters building. Greg had gone there right after the concert he had overheard, so he wouldn’t have to think about the right thing to do. To plunge headlong into another maelstrom and change his life again.

Because his conscience wouldn’t let him stay away.

“Then sign this.” A new non-disclosure form was placed on the table. “You know that secrecy has never been abolished. And…” the general squinted at the private, “you swore an oath to Equestria, didn’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Greg nodded as he signed the paper. “The day after the operation in the camp…”

Aurora had made quite a spectacle of it then. Standing in front of the platoon in an unfamiliar Equestrian uniform in the cold wind, he read from a piece of paper on a makeshift lectern made of a wooden stand and an aluminum tray, the text of the Harmonic Army Oath written in neat white pony’s script.

I, Greg Steelson Mellow, do solemnly swear allegiance to Equestria. I swear to obey unconditionally the will of the Princess, to strictly follow the requirements of military regulations, orders of commanders and superiors. I swear to fulfill my military duties honorably, to defend the freedom and independence of Equestria, and to uphold peace among all ponies.

“Well, then honor and duty won’t be empty words for you,” Tempest said, pulling several folders out of a drawer and pushing them aside. “First, I want to give you an outline of what a scout’s job is. You will obey all orders from the center, which will come through covert channels. Any unauthorized action or carelessness can get you killed. You must never forget that you are in the enemy camp, but you cannot show it. You must play your role in such a way that no one suspects you of being a spy. Act like one of them. Even at night. Even in your sleep. You must learn to think like one of them. But at the same time, remain a warrior of Equestria.

“If they tell you to shoot a pregnant mare, you’ll smile, say you’ll do it in a secluded place, fire a shot in the air, and let her go.

“If they tell you to rape a foal, you’ll say you don’t like doing such things.

“If they tell you to burn a dozen ponies alive, you’ll joke that it’s not rational to use fuel that way in wartime.

“Apart from that, you will obey the system. And the important thing is that it doesn’t take you over completely. Because it’s one thing to obey the regime and quite another to serve as its driving force, don’t you agree?”

“You mean what?” Greg frowned.

“Power, Mellow, power. It corrupts, and the stronger it is, the more it corrupts. Did you really think we’d throw you in there as a simple LD stallion?” Tempest grinned.

Greg lowered his gaze.

Really, he hadn’t thought of that. He’d never had to play the part of someone of high rank before, and the gray pony wasn’t sure if he could do it.

A dark cherry hoof in a black slipper pushed the first file over to Greg, and the stallion untied the straps and opened the thick folder. The photo on the first page showed a light gray, almost white earth pony with a blue mane and the same brown eyes as Mellow’s; young enough, but with an expression of contempt for the world so familiar to Greg from his former office bosses. Next to him was what appeared to be a cutie mark drawing – a magnifier and a notepad, not much different from Mellow’s own pen and scroll.

This unknown officer wore a black tunic with stylized letters LD and insignia shaped like a comet on the collar and two four-pointed stars on the epaulettes. And it looked like he wasn’t just a simple servant.

“Meet Ian Danfel, Standartenhoofer of the Lunar Division… that’s something like a colonel. A member of the Sixth Department of the Lunar Chancellery, which deals with foreign intelligence. Captured by us north of Canterlot but reported missing by the enemy. He says he was at the front for inspection, but in fact he was there to meet personally with agents who had received data from informants on our side. Of course, we will crack this network and feed it with profitable lies, but Danfel himself will be imprisoned for now. So his disguise is an ideal option to infiltrate into the backstage of the Lunar Republic.”

Greg started to read the text of the dossier. But at the first lines he coughed meaningfully and looked at Tempest.

“A wife? And two foals? So I’d have to play his role not only at work, but at home as well?!”

“What did you expect?” the general snorted. “You can’t just take a pony out of society and put him back in with only a few of his social connections restored. We had to use a whole arsenal of techniques to get as much as we could out of Danfel about his tastes, habits, attitudes toward other ponies, and personality. Yes, he may seem like a rather nasty guy, but he’s hardly such a complex character that it would be impossible to faithfully recreate his image…”

“Yeah, but still… Buck, are you crazy!” Greg tapped his hoof on one of the paragraphs. “Violent, irritable, beats his wife and children... And you’re telling me to do the same thing to avoid suspicion?!” The gray pony frowned. “Favorite position in se… What?! What’s that got to do with—”

“A lot,” Tempest said icily. “From the moment of infiltration, you will be him. Everywhere. Absolutely.”

“But—”

Tempest Shadow slammed her hoof down on the table and leaned forward, towering over Greg. Her eyes flashed like two turquoise icebergs.

“If necessary,” she hissed, poking a hoof into his chest, “you will fuck his wife and kick his foals’ asses. If necessary, you will send hundreds of ponies to their deaths, make a moonlight and shout ‘Praise the Moon!’ at the top of your lungs. No matter what, you will do what circumstances demand. And I don’t care what excuses you make for it.”

She pulled away and looked down at Mellow.

“But like I said, you have to be yourself on the inside. Don’t let someone else’s personality override your own. Every time, you’ll have a choice of how to act. And it’s up to you to decide what comes out of it and what you become. Keep in mind that all your actions will be investigated, and you’ll be held accountable for any crime, even if it was committed under duress. If, again, you live to see it.”

“Nice perspective,” Greg muttered to himself and put the folder aside. “Well, at least it was fair. I’ll… think about what I’m doing. And try to do better. If you’re not gonna bring him back, then at least let Danfel, as he’s known, be a little different while the war goes on.”

“It’s up to you,” Tempest said and placed the rest of the folders in front of her. “We’ll be interested in any information you can provide. Especially the development of new weapons and the plans and activities of the top brass. What, how, when, where, and most importantly – why they are doing it.”

The next file slid across the table to the gray stallion.

Inside was a photo of a white pony with a blonde mane and blue eyes. On her collar were three comets surrounded by a crescent moon. She was smiling as she lifted her right hoof, and her cutie mark was some kind of weird, curved cross over a pink heart.

“Aryanne Wagner, LD Gruppenhoofer, the head Gestapony. She is basically the second power there after Nightmare Moon. Before the war, she was a fierce activist, picketing with slogans like ‘Equestria for ponies only!’ and ‘Let’s keep the nation pure!’ As a result, she was imprisoned for extremism on Riders Island in Bucklyn but was later amnestied by the Horsecoacher’s decree. Don’t look at her smile – it was on Aryanne’s orders that all the mayhem you’ve experienced on your own skin was arranged. You must keep a close eye on her – but be extremely careful. And be prepared that she’s watching you too.”

“What does her cutie mark mean?” Greg asked. “I don’t know that symbol…”

“Oh, believe me, the best minds in Equestria have tried to figure it out (I even heard Twilight Sparkle herself), but to no avail. Which makes this pony all the more dangerous because we don’t even know what to expect from her.”

The next folder was noticeably thinner, and inside was a black and white picture of some thestral.

“Night Sky, head of the Sixth Department of the Chancellery. Your future direct superior. There wasn’t much to know about him, since even Danfel didn’t like to talk to him much. Smart, decisive, scheming, and that’s something you can try to exploit.”

The pony in the next file was the one Mellow knew. Well, he’d heard her cello on the radio. After the Lunar Revolution and before her arrest, almost every day.

“Octavia Melody. Minister of Culture, Science, and Education, and honorary LD Standartenhoofer. In the early days of the NLR, she part-time controlled the media until the task was given to Rarity Modens. Octavia’s play is said to be a favorite of Nightmare Moon herself, so this pony has a special place in the system. In the Lunar Chancellery, she oversees Section C of the Third Department, which deals with cultural affairs. Octavia has a great influence on ponies’ minds, and she uses it to the fullest. And also from her strings stretch to an organization called Lunenerbe, about the activities of which we know almost nothing. And that’s what you’re going to have to find out.”

The last folder contained data on a light orange unicorn with a red and yellow mane. And her mark in the form of a two-colored sun seemed to Greg almost more sinister than the obscure symbol on Aryanne’s flank.

“Sunset Shimmer, commander of the Equermacht forces. Surprisingly, neither we nor Danfel know much about her. Studied at the Canterlot School for Gifted Unicorns, even apprenticed to Celestia for a while…” Tempest shook her head. “And then all traces of this Sunset are lost. It’s confirmed that she lived in Ponyville for a while about three years ago… Then she showed up last November as a general of the Lunar Army’s Land Forces! I mean, can you believe it, huh…?”

The dark cherry pony sighed.

“Anyway, I think she’s the most dangerous one to keep an eye on. It’s possible that Sunset has a game of her own that makes Night Sky’s combinations pale.” Tempest tapped her hoof on the table thoughtfully. “What could she offer this mare from the Moon, for which she (and no one else) had brought this Shimmer to the very top…? Anyway, try to find out everything you can.”

“And I have to learn it all?” Greg squinted at the stack of folders in front of him. “I don’t mind, but… how much time do I have?”

“A week,” Tempest said. “Ideally three or four days. In that time, the details of the drop operation will be finalized. We need to get Danfel back before his absence becomes suspicious. His file contains, among other things, your future legend.”

She stood up and walked around the office.

“You are not to take anything out of here; you will study the material in my presence. For all this information – do you hear me, Mellow? – five of our agents and several dozen support personnel have lost their lives. In fact, our network in Manehattan is now decapitated.” The general stopped and pointed a hoof at Greg. “And the new resident will be you. Otherwise, we’ll be biting our elbows, unable to do anything against our opponents. Okay?”

And then Greg did something he never expected to do.

Slowly pushing aside the stack of files, he got up from the table and looked into Tempest Shadow’s eyes. “I understood. I swear I won’t let you down.” Then he raised a hoof to his temple. “Long live Equestria.”

An uneasy dawn broke over the front line. From far away came the eternal cannonade, like the vague rolling thunder.

In a wooded area near a shallow ravine, two ponies in the gray uniforms of the Equermacht walked among the bushes. Their rifles were slung over their backs, and their bayonets dangled in sheaths from their belts.

Soft voices came through the rustling of the spring foliage.

“So quiet here… Before, I remember, they used to beat harder here…”

“Sure, that’s when the Equestrians stood right here. And now, Discord knows why, they suddenly withdrew their troops...”

“Why aren’t we advancin’ then?”

“You’re outta your mind, boy? Wanna die in the first wave? And if they bring in a special unit – ‘Marauders’ or whatever they’re called… then go hang yourself!”

“Wait… d’ya hear that?”

The soldiers stopped and pricked up their ears. Then one of them silently pointed toward the ravine.

Judging by the crackling of the branches, whoever was there wasn’t even thinking of hiding.

With their weapons at the ready, they both peered into the cool spring twilight. The fact that they were also in plain sight at this moment seemed not to occur to them.

Soon, the dark silhouette of a pony emerged from the thicket on the slope. Staggering and stumbling, he approached the sentries in uneven zigzags. He didn’t even see them, looking first at his own hooves.

“Halt! Who’s comin’?!” shouted one of the soldiers, pointing his rifle at the intruder.

“Will shoot!” added the second.

The unknown pony stopped and raised his head. As he came closer, they could see that he wore a tattered black uniform and a battered helmet with a crescent moon on it, just like each of the sentries.

“He’s an LD!” muttered one of the soldiers. “What’s he doin’ here?”

“Or maybe he’s that important cock that got lost somewhere nearby the other day?” suggested another and called out, “Hey, what’s your name? Give us your name and rank so we know what to call ya…!”

Instead of answering, the black-clad stallion let out a low grunt and slumped to the side, disappearing back into the thicket on the slope of the ravine.

“Oh, Discord!” cursed the first sentry, and they both ran to where the unknown figure had fallen.

He had rolled down not too far, his trenchcoat snagged on a root sticking out of the ground. The gray pony’s eyes were open, his face and uniform smeared with dirt, and his helmet had a distinct dent on top.

“Hey, you alive there?” asked the second soldier, rummaging through the pockets of the black tunic and pulling out the same dirty, crumpled and torn ID card. “Who we got here? Ian Danfel, Standra… Stardant… I can’t even say it! Hey, bro, you got a concussion, right? Oh, that must be the big shot we lost! C’mon, drag him! We might even get the Lunar Cross! Aw, gee, you heavy dude…”

“Tha… thank…” exhaled the rescued standartenhoofer and lost his senses.

Celestia have mercy, it’s been so long since I was here… Though I’ve missed almost nothing: there’s been no change since then.

And indeed. Stacked with spires of skyscrapers and boxy high-rises under the gloomy March sky, Manehattan looked the same as it had in December. Except there was no snow on the streets, just a light drizzle, and there seemed to be slightly more Lunar banners.

As he walked down the paved sidewalk, Greg thought back to the last time he had walked home from work, before he had been arrested. He was no different from the other ponies going home after a hard day’s work, so he didn’t even get indifferent looks. Everyone was too engrossed in themselves and their own problems to notice him. Mellow just… didn’t exist outside the office – for everyone except his neighbor, who had given him to the Gestaponies to get her nephew a place to live.

Now Greg caught glances full of apprehension and hidden fear. At the sight of him, some citizens turned away or crossed the street, or if they couldn’t, they huddled against the walls of houses or retreated into alleys.

And the gray pony knew what this was all about.

With his black coat, the briefcase strapped to his belt, and the cap of the LD Standartenhoofer, no one would dare stand in his way. He was now a symbol of the intimidating power that had kept half of Equestria in fear for more than four months.

…He had his coat and mane dyed, even had super-thin tape with new prints glued onto his hooves, and then was specially concussed by firing a gun next to him on a special range. Then he must have been transported to the place where Danfel was captured. After that, Greg, having come to his senses, went to the Equermacht on his own.

To carry out this operation, Equestria had to withdraw its troops and then bring them back, preventing the Lunar Army from going on the offensive. All so that a single pony could use the window to get to the enemy’s capital.

And now I have no right to let them down. Although… I agreed to it myself. So suck it up, Greg Mellow. And don’t complain.

After the infiltration, he spent a few days in a field hospital, then was sent back to Manehattan to recuperate. At first it was hard to stay conscious for long periods of time, but later the concussion wore off, and gradually Greg remembered everything Tempest Shadow had told him.

Once a Gestapony investigator came to interrogate him, but by then the stallion had already cemented his own legend in his mind, so he could easily answer all the questions.

Why was he at the front? Officially – to inspect the personnel of the LD, the rest is top secret.

How did he get wounded? Went into a wooded area at the call of nature, then a shell came. The last thing he remembered was rolling down the slope of the ravine.

Two soldiers were found dead nearby? Well, bad luck for the guys. Shit happens.

Why didn’t he go back to the troops for a week? Well, he had been unconscious for a couple of days, then too weak for a while, but eventually he'd made it up the slope where the guys from the nearby brigade had found him.

Greg had expected to be questioned about every little detail and had prepared a lot of backup explanations just in case. But the investigator seemed satisfied with his story and left shortly after, wishing him a speedy recovery.

“His” wife, a quiet and shy bluish-lilac unicorn, also visited him. It was the moment Greg had feared the most, but even she had recognized him for who he pretended to be under a layer of waterproof dye. It made Mellow especially ashamed of himself: it was unbearable to deceive, let alone tyrannize, this sweet creature.

But he had got over himself and taken on a new role, answering her questions about his well-being through his teeth, pretending to be a grumpy husband. Violet Rain – that was the unicorn’s name – didn’t look at him most of the time, and then she apologized and hurried away. And Greg, staring after her, felt like a total asshole for the first time.

A few days later, it was time for discharge. When Mellow arrived at his new “home,” he found a card in his mailbox from his boss, wishing him well and asking him to come to the office on his first day back to work.

Well, Night Sky was a schemer, wasn’t he?

In the meantime, Greg had to find his contacts and confirm the infiltration, as well as get his first instructions.

That was no problem. Mellow had damaged the radio receiver in Danfel’s apartment without “his” wife and children noticing and had volunteered to go to a workshop to have it repaired. And that same day, having prepared the first coded message, he went to Hoofton Street, where, according to Tempest’s words, those he was to meet lived.

The radio operator turned out to be a light brown unicorn named Erwin Smith. When he heard the code phrase about the rain that wasn’t there, he responded expectantly that there was no need to take an umbrella, and let Greg in.

While Erwin was examining the receiver, his wife, Cake Walk, came out to them. She was a pink earth pony with a red mane and a bulging pregnant belly, and she really did look like a strawberry cake. Erwin refused the tea, but Greg was happy to have a cup and praised the cookies. Out of politeness, the gray pony asked about the couple’s future foal, and Cake replied warmly that she would give birth in about a month and a half, but whether they ended up with a colt or a filly was not important to them. Erwin confirmed her words by hugging his wife, and then, when Cake had gone into the other room, he was busy transmitting the cryptogram Greg had prepared.

I wonder if Cake knows her husband works for Equestria, Mellow thought, watching the unicorn’s deft manipulation of the suitcase containing the illegal radio station. She probably does. And apparently, she really loves him, because even at the risk of getting caught, she still stays with him.

It’s settled. As long as it’s in my power, I’ll do everything I can to keep them safe.

Having made all the necessary preparations, Erwin began to tap out the numbers from Greg’s message in Horse code.

As a cipher, Mellow and Tempest had agreed to use the fourth volume of the collected works of Alabaster Comethoof, a Canterlot poet who had lived in the first century before Luna’s banishment, one of the few Equestrians who had not been cancelled in the Republic. The book was chosen because, first, it was in Danfel’s house and, second, it was almost unread, so it was unlikely to attract attention during a search.

The cryptogram, which took Greg half a day to complete, after which he burned the original page and washed the ashes in the restroom, contained a brief message about his successful infiltration and readiness for further action.

Jupiter to Aphelion
Out of the hospital. Remember everything well. Begin work soon. Awaiting instructions.

“Jupiter” was himself; “Aphelion” was the headquarters in Canterlot. What those words meant, Greg didn’t know, but he assumed it had something to do with astronomy. Besides, he liked the sound of it: Jupiter to Aphelion.

The next day, when Mellow picked up the “fixed” receiver, he also got a response from the center.

Aphelion to Jupiter
Good. Get to work tomorrow. Try to get into the archive and access the materials. Make sure you’re not followed.

Greg couldn’t be sure of the latter. Either he was too inexperienced to notice the tail, or the Gestaponies were able to spy almost unnoticed. However, Mellow had left no evidence on his side, so there was no reason to suspect him, he thought.

…There was some kind of crowd ahead. Greg realized it was a pack of about twenty batponies around a loudspeaker listening to Nightmare Moon’s speech and shrugged. That deep, metallic voice of the mare would give him nightmares for a long time.

And what the Mare from the Moon said made Mellow grit his teeth and want to cross to the other side of the street.

“…Our ponies will have jobs – and they will not! We will have pensions and benefits – they will not! We will have support for foals and elderly ponies – they will not! Our children will go to school and daycare – their children will sit in basements! Because they can do nothing! That’s it, that’s how we win this war!”

The batponies greeted each statement with joyful squeals and loud hoofbeats. Some of them began jumping up and down on the spot or banging pots on their heads with a metallic clatter.

Just like that fateful November of 1007.

Freaks. Scum. Bastards… Mellow thought as he approached the gathering. Not enough what that crazy mare had done in six months! How would they like it if the same was said about them? Though… yes, they had been deprived of everything for a long time, but last year a hoof of help was openly extended to them! And how did they respond? By disrupting the referendum and rioting! If it hadn’t been for the Whinnyapolis cultists, there wouldn’t have been that rally in Canterlot! If a thestral hadn’t been shot by a guardspony, Luna wouldn’t have turned into Nightmare Moon! Everything would’ve been different! But no… Why, why did they ruin everything?! What was the point of it all?!

The stallion cursed through his teeth. It is impossible to understand. It cannot be forgiven. We can only go all the way, uproot these insane ideas of superiority over the rest. Evil must be destroyed. Otherwise, there’ll be no peace in the world. And then maybe they’ll realize what a terrible mistake they’ve made.

“…four races, one Horsecoacher, one Republic!”

Luna’s speech ended, and the batponies erupted into whistling, shouting, and stomping. Meanwhile, Greg took a closer look at the banner above which a loudspeaker hung.

The silver-blue background showed a gray thestral with a purple mane and glowing red eyes, and his plate armor was clearly a reference to the times a thousand years ago. The inscription next to it read: Hail Shadow Wing, hero of the First Lunar War!

Greg knew this character from the book he had read in camp. According to the chronicles and historical documents, Shadow Wing was the commander of one of the Lunar Guard regiments during the War of the Two Sisters. After the main forces were defeated in the Everfree Forest, the regiment set out to storm the small mountain fortress of Canterlot, the temporary capital of Equestria. The attack was repulsed, and in response, the thestrals managed to slaughter half of the villages in the area before being driven out into the open and destroyed. One village was even turned into a memorial nearly five centuries ago.

But with Nightmare Moon’s rise to power in Manehattan, that history was dragged out of oblivion, turning Shadow Wing and his soldiers from butchers into heroes, and their massacre into a desperate act of resistance. Even the supposedly exact number of one thousand four hundred and eighty-eight guardsponies involved had appeared out of nowhere, though all the Equestrian chronicles put the number somewhere between five hundred and two thousand.

Another nail in the coffin of historical truth lost in artificial legends.

Meanwhile, the gathered batponies began to chant.

“Death to Celestia!”

“Kill the sunfuckers!”

“White whore to the stake!”

“May she die in her bunker!”

“The night will last forever!”

“Praise the Moon! Glory to Batponies…!”

They calmed down a bit when they saw Greg walking past them. A few hooves rose in the moonlight. It was as if everyone was waiting for him to answer.

A huge lump immediately formed in his throat and his legs turned to jelly.

No… Mellow thought to himself. Even if I act like a “pony in dragon skin” now, I still have principles. And I just can’t do the “from heart to moon” thing. At least not in front of these.

The stallion lifted his chin and turned away.

He had expected angry shouts, or perhaps to be surrounded and pinned to the wall, but the thestrals cautiously backed away from him and even stopped shouting their slogans for a while.

Of course, Greg grinned to himself. They saw that the standartenhoofer was in a bad mood, so why make him angrier? What if he has a headache? He might even shoot them…!

Amused, he relaxed a bit. Even though his hoof kept reaching for his holster to shoot the fanatics on the spot, Mellow reassured himself that he still had time. And anyway, he wouldn’t have enough ammunition for the whole crowd.

Meanwhile, he had almost reached the Lunar Chancellery.

It was unusual to approach the headquarters of the Lunazis as an official and not as a prisoner. But Greg overcame himself and, after adjusting his black trenchcoat for the last time, walked determinedly to the entrance of the building.

The two ponies with submachine guns guarding the massive doors saluted him bravely. Mellow nodded sullenly at them and, pulling his cap over his face, entered the Chancellery.

His heart was about to break into a gallop, but the stallion tried not to show it. After all, a standartenhoofer was not supposed to worry. Having reached his rank, he had to be able to go straight to any goal, deal ruthlessly with enemies, and bow only to the highest authority.

Danfel must have been like that. And now Greg had to copy some of his behavior.

With a nonchalant look, he showed his ID to the LD officers at the gate and, after squeezing through the turnstile, made his way down the corridor to the stairs.

He knew the location of all the offices perfectly. At Tempest’s request, the Crystal Empire had sent the detailed plans of their former consulate, and Danfel had told them how the building was used now. The sixth department, where the standartenhoofer worked, was on the fourth of five floors, and it took some hoofwork to get there.

But as soon as Greg was halfway up the stairs, he was called out.

“Whoa! Look who I see! Ready to get back to work, Danfel?”

Greg looked up sharply, out of his own thoughts, and could barely keep from cursing.

A dark blue thestral in a perfectly tailored black suit was walking straight towards him. Head of the Sixth Department, Night Sky.

“I’d have stayed home otherwise,” Mellow muttered, trying to imitate Danfel’s intonation and passive-aggressive communication style. “Anything wrong, Brigadenhoofer?”

“No, no,” Night Sky grinned, his fangs bared, “I just wanted to meet my best officer and get a first-hoof account of your trip.”

His friendly tone made Greg shiver.

Yeah, he’s one to keep an eye on, the gray pony thought.

“Then let’s go to the office,” he replied aloud. “No need to discuss important matters in the hallway, right?”

“Right, Danfel!” Night Sky laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, then turned back to the stairs. “Come on, tell me what you found out.”

They went up to the fourth floor and through the oak double doors they entered Night Sky’s office.

As soon as they sat down at the desk, the mask of feigned friendliness fell from the thestral. He sighed heavily and wrapped his hooves around his head for a moment, then looked at Mellow reproachfully.

“Oh, Danfel, why the hay did you go to the front, huh?” Night Sky’s voice took on a snarling tone. “What, you weren’t satisfied with the quiet work in the office with the informers? Playing a hero? Maybe I should transfer you to the Lunabwehr, that’s their field of activity, isn’t it…?”

“I just had to hear it for myself,” Greg replied grumpily. “You know I always try to check data personally.”

“I appreciate that, of course, but…” Night Sky’s face went dark. “You had no right to put yourself in this kind of danger. You’re not leaving Manehattan again, understood? Use agents if you have to… Okay, enough with the lectures, let’s get down to business. Are your assumptions confirmed?”

Greg let out a faint sigh.

This is the moment of truth. The big game is starting.

“In general, yes,” he said cautiously. “I have received reports of an increase in Changeling intelligence regarding Olenia and Equestria. In addition, a partial mobilization has already been announced in Chrysalis’ kingdom. All indications are they’ll soon be moving troops to their borders and preparing for full-scale conflict. Olenia won’t last long, stuck as it is in the last century, so it’ll be taken down quickly. And when that happens, the Changelings’ target will be Equestria, which will have to fight on two fronts.”

“Good,” Night Sky nodded. “What else?”

“Equestria itself is aware of the growing tensions in the west. Canterlot plans to negotiate with Vanhoover to intervene and organize a coup in Olenia to overthrow King Johan and bring the rightful Queen Velvet to power, but our agents have managed to stall these plans. One of Velvet’s supporters is the noble unicorn Fancy Pants, but his date, Fleur de Lis, was abducted to sabotage the negotiations, and now he’s doing his best to thwart Celestia’s efforts. Equestria simply won’t have time to change the government in Olenia and make it their puppet before the Changelings attack. The national focus on the war with us keeps the Solar from doing two things at once.”

As Specter would say – lies through my fucking teeth, Greg grinned. Actually, after Danfel’s revelations, they should have been on Fleur’s trail by now, and Fancy Pants had been instructed to push for negotiations no matter what. So now it all depends on whether Admiral Dust Hoover will agree to organize a landing at Hjortland."

He caught himself smiling. However, Night Sky had interpreted that smile in his own way.

“And so Equestria’s war on two fronts becomes more and more real,” the thestral summed up. “Bravo, Danfel. I didn’t expect you to bring back such valuable information, even though you were wounded. If the plan succeeds, I’ll even consider a reward for you.”

“Thank you, Brigadenhoofer, but that’s not important right now,” Greg shook his head. “Both of my informants from the Equestrian Forces were killed in the fire, and it’ll take me a long time to find new ones. Besides, somepony has to take care of their families in the Republic—”

“Not a word more, I’ll do it,” Night Sky interrupted. “Just give me their personal information.”

“Here you go.”

Mellow rummaged through his briefcase and pulled out a sheet of paper written in the real Danfel’s mouthwriting. The thestral nodded and tucked it into one of the folders on the desk.

I wonder, Greg thought, am I really helping these ponies – or sending them to slaughter? Night Sky might be using them as hostages to keep me in line. But there doesn’t seem to be any reason for that yet. And if there is, I’ll try to think of something.

“Anything else, Danfel?” Night Sky asked.

“Huh? Yes, there is something…” Greg pulled another sheet of paper out of his briefcase. “I need your resolution. Just to make sure nopony has any questions, so to speak.”

“A request to the archives? Well, let’s see what you’ve got here…” The batpony ran his eyes over the lines, frowning more and more with every moment. “Hmm… you know, the questions arose in my mind. Tell me, why the hay do you need reports on weapons development? That’s between the military and the Lunabwehr…”

“Equestria can’t help but recognize the threat of a second front with the Changelings in the future,” Mellow replied with a prepared explanation. “That’s why the Solar will try to defeat us as soon as possible and maybe develop some kind of super weapon… what’s it called in Griffonian…? – ah! a wunderwaffe. But I have no idea what that might be. So I need to familiarize myself with what we have, at least in general terms, to know where to look.”

“And Lunenerbe? Why do you need reports on their activities? They’re just a bunch of fanatical pseudo-scientists doing some…” Night Sky paused, apparently having realized something. “Uh-huh… so you think they might be involved… But you’re not going to share your thoughts with the Gestapony counterintelligence…” The thestral grinned again. “Just out of a hospital bed and already playing a new game?” He wagged his hoof at Greg playfully. “But that’s what I appreciate: you don’t forget about your work for a moment. Anyway, you had time to rest, didn’t you? How are your wife and kids?”

“Fine,” Greg said with a twitch of his cheek. “Are you gonna sign or not?”

“Well, it’s no trouble at all.” Night Sky took a pen between his teeth and scribbled something at the bottom of the page, then stamped it. “If you think it’s important, you’re welcome. It will be great if we can beat the Lunabwehr and the Gestaponies, if they’re interested in this case as well… Just don’t forget to report the results to me, okay?”

“Sure,” the gray pony murmured and put the paper back into his briefcase. “Permission to go?”

“You may,” the thestral waved his front leg. “If you need anything else, let me know, I’ll take care of it.”

Greg nodded silently and got up from the desk to head for the exit.

But he could feel Night Sky’s appraising gaze on his back.

“I hope you know that it’s strictly forbidden to take documents out of the hall?” the stern mare with the insignia of a stormhoofer asked as she unloaded huge stacks of folders from the dolly onto the table in front of Greg. “As well as any kind of notes or memory crystals?”

“Of course,” he nodded coldly. His mind flashed back to the sleepless nights in Tempest’s office, amidst similarly carefully guarded materials. “May I help?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” she snorted, placing the last stack of documents in front of Greg. “Perhaps you’re the one who needs help sorting through this sea of papers?”

Mellow looked around at the meter-long towers of classified data that took up most of the table. This isn’t a sea, it’s a mountain range, he thought with a barely audible sigh.

“No,” he muttered, “I can do it myself.”

“I know it’s none of my business, but…” the mare hesitated, “Standartenhoofer, why do you need all these documents?”

“That’s right – none of your business,” Greg said and glared at the archivist. “Go back to your desk and keep clopping to your magazines. Don’t bother me.”

“Yes, sir,” she said through her teeth, rolling the empty dolly in front of her and walking back. But Mellow could hear her muttering to herself, “Dickhead…”

He could have picked up on that, with the kind of scandal Danfel was no stranger to, but he didn’t. Instead, he just shook his head and looked back at the piles of paper that awaited him.

Celestia… I knew that Night Sky’s signature would help me gain access to many secrets… but not this much! I was expecting to give the Center a preliminary report in a few days – and now I’ll have to fiddle around for at least a month! And time is running out…

The gray pony took a deep breath - and then exhaled slowly through his mouth.

All right, then. Not the first time… Take it easy. Let’s pretend I’ve just been told to clear out the backlog of reports in the office… say, left over from an employee who’s on sick leave. No specific deadline, just the sooner the better. But I don’t want to miss anything. Oka-a-ay… I know the feeling… Well, focused? Now let’s get to work.

With these thoughts, Greg stood on his hind legs on the chair and pulled the first folder from the top of the first stack with his teeth.

Within an hour, Mellow’s head was spinning from the abundance of secrets he’d been exposed to.

Even with Night Sky’s authority, Greg had only been given access to the public reports of the Ministry of Armaments and War Production and the reports of the Sixth Department. But even that, as it turned out, was more than enough.

Of course, Greg had assumed that some departments and services would look at the work of others through their ponies, but he hadn’t even realized the true extent of the surveillance. What’s more, he still couldn’t believe it.

Literally everyone was watching each other.

The External SD, where Danfel worked, was being watched by the Internal SD, and vice versa; the Gestaponies were constantly tugging at the criminal ponice; the Lunabwehr and the administrative services[2] were watching the squabbling closely. And it seemed that over all this bacchanalia of paranoia and mutual hatred there was the rumbling laughter of the only beneficiary – the mad Mare from the Moon.

What if that lazy bitch was put here to spy too? Greg thought as he looked at the archivist. She was indeed distracted from time to time by a magazine with pictures of very interesting content. I wonder if the Seventh Department gives Aryanne data about visitors to the archives…? I wouldn’t be surprised. What difference does it make? I’m already here. So I have to assume that I’m being followed. At least in this building.

The gray pony sighed and looked at the folders spread out in front of him.

On the other hoof, total espionage had its advantages. While the official reports contained only general information and statistics, the reports of Night Sky’s spies revealed a much more detailed picture. Indeed, following Gestapony agents in corporate security, for example, the Sixth’s operatives reported not only their own observations, but also a considerable portion of others’.

And what these embedded informants brought to light made Greg’s mane stand on end.

During his service with Aurora, the gray pony had gotten used to the idea that Equestria – especially with Applesnack’s team – was a little ahead of the Republic in weapons development. Lilies were already being replaced by magazine-fed Lavenders, the design of battle saddles was improving every month, and automatic weapons such as submachine guns and the first prototypes of magic rifles powered by multi-loading crystals were appearing. But the mass use of the latest models was still far away.

The Lunar State, however, had chosen a completely different strategy.

With his heart pounding, Greg read about how tens of thousands of automatic assault rifles codenamed “Lightning” were rolling off the assembly lines of military factories in Manehattan and Fillydelphia and piled up in secret warehouses that Equestrian bombers couldn’t reach. And there seemed to be only one explanation.

Offensive! They’re planning a big counterattack along the entire front! Mellow broke into a cold sweat and hastily wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic. Not now, there’s mud everywhere… but in the summer… I must get this information to the Center as soon as possible. Otherwise, Equestria may not survive.

At first glance, there were no major breakthroughs in tanks and aircraft. As in Equestria, new modifications of light and medium models were being developed; just in case, Greg made a mental note to keep a closer eye on these areas of development as well. In addition, the first versions of reinforced armored vehicles were being developed, which could be a good asset for breaking through the front line.

What made him frown seriously was the abbreviation MLRS, which had appeared a few times. Hoping to find more information, Mellow had gone through all the reports from the last three months three times. But there was nothing more about what it was or how it could be used. I’ll have to let the guys in charge know. Maybe they’ll decipher it, Greg thought as he put aside another folder.

But this wasn’t even the most suspicious part.

Often, in the most unexpected places, there was a name that the stallion almost never expected to see here.

Many documents bore the resolution of Sunset Shimmer, Colonel General of the Equermacht.

Yes, one could assume that the commander of the ground forces would oversee the preparations for the rearmament of her army… But from the reports, it was indirectly evident that the new weapons were being designed almost entirely under the supervision of that ubiquitous light orange unicorn.

Another mystery to be solved.

Two small stacks stood out from the pile of light brown folders: a green one labeled “Project Manehattan” and a gray one – “Project Horizons.” Both were marked “Top Secret, of Special Importance.”

Greg’s hooves twitched as he touched the heavy corrugated cardboard covers and the wax seals on the tightly knotted ties. Surely this information was important enough to be worth his head if it would help the nation survive.

They’re just a bunch of cheaters! he thought as he read the shocking documents. The whole world is basically a map for a big strategy game, where rulers compete to see whose country will conquer all others… Divisions are just figurines of ponies, griffons, or other creatures that are moved back and forth… When one dies, they just remove it from the board. And then subtract ten thousand from the resources of the inhabitants and put a new one in its place.

And technologies determine the balance of power and the development level of the countries... And these lunar scums have definitely gotten a huge piece of knowledge from the future and are now using it! Cheaters, in short…

There was also a separate pile of papers about Lunenerbe. But just looking at the first few pages made Greg want to slam the folder shut and never open it again. In everyday, scant professional language, it described the details of experiments on live ponies! Mellow was almost sickened by the descriptions of how the mad scientists used dark magic on their patients – some of the techniques were hidden by code names. But even the plain text was enough to make the archivist turn on the gray pony, who was breathing painfully through clenched teeth.

I’ll destroy them, the stallion promised himself. I’ll find out where they’re doing their nasty experiments, and… I may not kill them myself, but I’ll make sure they’ll never be able to hurt anypony again. I’ll blow the place to Discord and be done with it. And those bastards will be brought to Canterlot to answer for what they’ve done.

He quickly recognized the name of the head of these monsters as Gizmo Poindexter. He also decided to memorize the name of Beatrix Lulamoon, the “Doctor of Medicine” mentioned in the reports of some “Project Steelpony.”

As Greg closed another file, he leaned back in his chair and took a breath. His heart was still racing, but the trembling in his legs gradually subsided. Facing such secrets was an ordeal indeed.

A cough came from above his ear and Greg could barely keep himself from jumping up. He turned and looked at the archivist, who even took a few steps back from the fierce expression on the pseudo-Danfel’s face.

“You should have warned before you approached, you idiot…!” he hissed. “Well, what do you want?”

“I-It’s eight o’clock, Standartenhoofer,” the mare replied, slightly relieved. “The archive is closed for visitors…”

“Well…” Greg rose from the table, and the stormhoofer stepped away again. “Reserve these materials for me. If anypony has any questions, please send them to Brigadenhoofer Sky. That’s all for now.”

He took his trenchcoat and cap from the back of the chair and, dressing on the way, headed for the exit, feeling like an absolute bastard.

Really, the gray pony didn’t even notice that it was evening. The lights were on in the corridors and there were even fewer black uniforms than in the morning.

As Greg yawned, he realized how exhausted he was. He’d only been playing his role for one day and he already missed the times when he’d worked with Aurora and Specter to fortify the camp they’d occupied.

But the main test was yet to come. After all, impersonating a grumpy colonel on duty was one thing, and mimicking the behavior of a household tyrant was quite another.

I’ll think about it later, Greg sighed as he descended the stairs. I have no idea what I’ll do, but I won’t be like Danfel. His family deserves someone better…

“Thinking of something, Standartenhoofer?” a melodious voice suddenly sounded nearby.

When Greg snapped out of his thoughts, he was about to bark angrily at its owner… but when he lifted his head, he almost tripped on the bottom step. His dry throat reminded him that he hadn’t had a drink all day, but he just barely realized it.

A few steps away from him stood Octavia Melody. She must have come down the hallway from the other side and happened to be near the stairs at that moment. Greg involuntarily admired the exquisite figure of the gray mare in the perfectly ironed black tunic and elegant skirt that revealed her cutie mark – but he immediately reprimanded himself. She’s a war criminal. Don’t forget that. And you’re still on duty yourself.

“A little,” he mumbled, shrugging, and got off the last step. “First day back at work after an unplanned vacation…”

Octavia grinned. She seemed to know the reason for this “vacation” as well as Night Sky.

“Well, I won’t keep you. Good luck with your business.”

“Have a nice day," Mellow nodded and walked towards the exit of the building.

I wonder what she’s doing here. Oh, yeah, there’s the Third Department office on the second floor… Or… Greg’s gaze flickered back to Octavia: she was heading for the restroom. What if she came to see Aryanne? Or Night Sky? What kind of game is she playing herself? And… Tempest said that Lunenerbe… Arrgh, why is it so complicated, huh? I’m getting so paranoid myself…

Greg walked past the guards, who saluted him, out the massive doors and down the stairs. He breathed in the cool, damp air, glanced at the purple flags hanging from the roof on either side of the entrance, grimaced, and walked through the puddles of the day toward the house where he would live for a long, long time.

His mood, which had been just about sinking all day, turned completely sour.

Yeah, Tempest was right, Greg thought as he weaved his way between puddles and rushing ponies. Power does truly corrupt. But how, how can I remain myself when the whole city is like a prison, ready to crush anyone who falls into its net…?

On the way, there was a roadblock of Gestaponies checking everyone’s papers. That’s strange, they weren’t here in the morning… So they were brought here during the day. But why?

Greg went up to a stallion in a black uniform and held out his ID. The Gestapony took a quick look at the document, then looked at Greg, as if checking his face against a photograph, before saluting and giving it back to him.

“You may pass, Standartenhoofer. Have a nice walk.”

“What are you here for?” Mellow grumbled, stuffing the pass into his pocket.

“Planned security measures,” the officer reported. “Identification of persons with false documents or of non-Equestrian origin.”

Of course, Greg snorted to himself. This isn’t “the Lunar Republic for Ponies Only” anymore, it’s more like “You’re not a pony if you’re from Stalliongrad”… Maybe I should complain to Night Sky. Tell him that these inspections violate not only my rights, but also the rights of law-abiding citizens? Let’s see if my boss has any influence on Aryanne…

“Good,” he said aloud with a nod. “Carry on with it.”

“Yes, sir!” The Gestapony made a moonlight. “Praise the Moon!”

As disgusting as it was, Greg had to respond this time. He lifted his right hoof and walked past the roadblock, wanting to wash not so much his leg as his very soul.

It was almost dark, and the lights were on in the streets, over which the dreary, rainy twilight had settled. As he walked from one island of light to another, admiring the countless reflections in the puddles, Greg felt the chains of hopelessness that had bound his heart loosen a little.

After all, he was still alive. And more than that, he hadn’t even been caught. That meant he could still change something here.

It wasn’t already much of a walk to Danfel’s house. The standartenhoofer lived far away, almost in the suburbs, but he didn’t use his car very often, preferring to walk. Greg had to adopt his habit.

But that would be convenient… Although… I don’t even know how to drive… well, I mean, I have a rough idea of how it’s done, but I’ve never tried it myself…

“Hey! Psst!” came from nearby.

Mellow stopped in surprise and turned his head around, looking for the speaker.

And when he found him, he felt a pit in his stomach.

From a dark alleyway between the houses, a Gestapony was furtively waving at him.

What is it? An arrest? Have I been exposed? Greg let out a spasmodic sigh. But I didn’t seem to give myself away by anything… Maybe I was followed when I carried the receiver…? Or is this some kind of intrigue by Night Sky?

Whatever the case, there was only one way to dispel suspicions.

Greg looked around and, satisfied with the safe number of ponies around him, cautiously made his way to the alley.

A unicorn with the insignia of an unterhoofer was waiting for him around the corner of the house. As Mellow approached, the Gestapony examined him carefully, looked into his eyes – and suddenly smiled.

“Mellow… phew, it’s you after all. I—”

He didn’t have a chance to finish. With one hoof Greg had him pinned to the wall by his throat, and with the other he pulled Danfel’s pistol out of its holster, grabbed it in his teeth and pointed it at the unterhoofer.

“How do you know me? Tell me!”

“I… agh…” the unicorn gasped. “I-interrogation… Zick-kh…”

“What the hay are you talking—”

Images from the past suddenly came to mind.

Ponies breaking into the apartment… the pennant on which the hooves had been wiped… the ride through the city in a ponice truck… the taste of blood in his mouth from Zick’s blows…

And watching it all from the side, a nondescript unterhoofer…

Greg’s eyes widened in disbelief. The leg around the unicorn’s neck relaxed, and the latter fell back onto all four, panting and coughing.

“Were you following me?” Mellow asked, putting the gun down. “Were you ordered to? By whom?”

“Ah-h… kha… I don’t know, just orders from above to watch… oof… Standartenhoofer Danfel after… after he returns from the front…” the unicorn rambled, trying to catch his breath. “Two are assigned to lead you in the morning, and Zick and I in the evening—”

“Zick? Zick Hunter?” Greg went cold. “Are you talking about him now?”

“Yeah, yeah… uh… he just went to pee, said he’d be back soon, so I figured—”

Sounds like the truth, Greg remarked, looking at the house number. Somewhere around here was my… and now probably his apartment.

So, I really am under Aryanne’s radar. And besides, on the verge of failure.

“How did you recognize me? Where was the leak?”

The unterhoofer shrugged with a smile. “Voice, eyes, walk… A lot of things. Everypony has their own unique traits that are very hard to change. And on my part, it was just an observation.”

“Anypony else know who I am? Like Zick for example?”

“No, no… I haven’t told anypony.”

“Why not?” Greg narrowed his eyes. “You’re gonna keep me hooked? Wouldn’t it be easier for me to shoot you? And believe me, I won’t get anything for it…”

“I’m not your enemy. I…” the unicorn sighed, “from the beginning… well, I wasn’t really in favor of the Republic, so—”

“And that’s why you joined the Gestaponies,” Mellow said sarcastically. “Just don’t bullshit me.”

“Listen to me! There’s no choice here! No choice at all! Either you keep up with everyone else or you’re dead! I really don’t like what’s going on, but I can’t change it!” The unterhoofer’s voice rang with anger. “I couldn’t even stop Zick when he was beating you… All I could do was watch! I…” He sobbed. “I could do nothing…”

“And why did you tell me? Why didn’t you rat me out to your superiors to get a promotion?”

“I want to help you.” The unicorn looked hopefully at Greg. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m sure it’s the right thing. If anything, you can rely on me. I may not be able to go against the system openly, but it will warm my heart to know that I’m doing something good.”

The unterhoofer smiled again, and Greg shuddered, realizing that he just couldn’t distrust him.

One day my credulity will bring me down. But I really hope not now.

“What’s your name?” Mellow asked.

“Swift Snow, LD unterhoofer, Manehattan branch of the Gestapony,” the unicorn replied, cocking his chin. “Believe me, I’m on your side. So don’t worry…” He glanced at his hoof-watch and groaned. “Sweet Celestia, Zick should be back soon! This conversation never happened,” he said quickly to Greg. “Go on, hurry up!”

Mellow suppressed the last urge to shoot him and just nodded. Then he stepped out of the alley and strode briskly toward Danfel’s house.

The first day… his mind was racing. And there’s already so much to deal with. How long will I stay alive here and… will I break? Let’s see. The main thing is to contact the Center. If I’m sixth on their funeral list, it shouldn’t be for nothing.

Night Sky may be playing a grandmaster, but I’m no fool either. Let’s see if they’re all smart enough to crack me like Snow did. If not, they’ll never be able to win the war they’ve started.

It started to drizzle again. The drops dripped down the black trenchcoat, and Greg suddenly realized that it was made of leather. But whose leather it was, he somehow didn’t want to find out.

The key to the apartment was, as in the morning, a bit of a struggle. It was hard to get it into the keyhole, and when he turned it, the lock squeaked, as if it didn’t want to let in the stallion, who obviously hadn’t taken care of his house for a long time.

I’ll have to call a locksmith, Greg thought as he pushed the door open and entered. I wonder if it’s forbidden to change the locks myself, the fine of ten thousand bits, huh?

He flicked the switch and turned on the light in the hallway, and while he took off and hung up his trenchcoat, which inevitably began dripping water on the shiny floor, he looked around at his new place.

A hall with a coat rack and umbrellas lining the wall, and four pairs of rubber boots: large, smaller, and two very small; then a corridor with several doors. To the left was the bathroom, straight ahead was the kitchen, and on the right hoof were three rooms: a nursery, a bedroom, and a study. Everything shone with a dazzling cleanliness; apparently Danfel was a neat freak who couldn’t tolerate dirt in his own house, but he seemed to have left that duty to his wife. And he made sure that his wish was strictly followed.

Violet Rain’s face peeked out from the nursery. The unicorn’s eyes widened, and she squirmed under Greg’s gaze.

“Hello, darling,” she said softly, and the fear in her beautiful voice made the gray stallion’s heart clench for the umpteenth time. “You’re late tonight… Dinner is on the stove – your favorite stuffed cabbage with hay.” Her eyes fell on the puddle beneath his trenchcoat. “Wait a second, I’ll wipe it up…”

“No need,” Greg muttered, “it’ll dry by itself.”

He walked past the unicorn, who looked at him in amazement, and went into the bathroom, where he began furiously scrubbing his hooves of the street dirt.

Not because he was as tidy as the real owner of this house. It would be a crime to walk on such a carefully polished floor with unwashed hooves, devaluing the work of “his” downtrodden wife and the mother of “his” children.

Leaving the bathroom, Greg stalked into the kitchen. On the stove was a pan with four cabbage rolls, smelling deliciously of fried hay. It made his heart tingle again to see how hard Violet was working for her “replaced” husband.

Taking a clean plate and fork, the gray pony laid out the stuffed cabbage, then sat down at the table and began to savor the meal with pleasure. The unicorn’s cooking was truly magical, perhaps not without magic indeed. The cabbage was neither too fatty nor too salty, and the hay crunched in his teeth more appetizingly than any burger.

When the plate was empty, Greg even regretted that the delicious meal was over, but then he realized that he was already full. Violet ran into the kitchen and, faster than he could stop her, gathered up the dirty dishes and began to wash them.

Mellow involuntarily admired her slim figure in her blue housedress, under which he could see a nicely wiggling purple tail and hind legs, but immediately reprimanded himself.

I can’t… I have no right to look at her… like that…

While the unicorn fiddled with the frying pan, Greg poured himself some tea – and after taking a few sips of the bitter, scalding drink, he walked away.

In his study, he threw off the tunic that was pressing down on his shoulders and hung it on the back of a chair, then plopped down on the couch and hoofed his head.

What am I doing… what am I doing?! How am I supposed to act?! I’m already imagining what Danfel was like, and I just can’t copy him!

There was a timid clatter from the hallway, and Violet opened the door and peeked in.

“Darling—”

“What?” Mellow turned to her sharply.

There must have been something “Danfel-ish” reflected on his face, because the unicorn immediately faded. “Sorry, I—” And she backed away, as if she wanted to disappear as fast as possible.

Greg couldn’t take it anymore. He jumped to his hooves, ran to the door and swung it open. Violet froze on the threshold in horror, as if expecting a blow. And it seemed like she was about to shut her eyes.

But instead… Greg hugged her. He felt her body tense under his hooves, ready to curl up into a tight ball for defense…

But there was nothing to defend against. And so the unicorn slowly relaxed, exhaling softly into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ve been so busy that I haven’t been myself… You know, I just thought…” He sighed heavily. “I guess I was a terrible pony.”

“No, what you’re saying…” she whimpered and tried to pull away...

But she stopped when Greg gently stroked her back.

“I know you’re afraid to say it, but it’s true. I’m sorry. I’ll… try to be better. Kinder… Honestly. You’ll see. I…” How hard, how hard is it to say… “I love you, Violet.”

“And I love you too, Ian,” she said in a faint voice.

“Is something wrong? Are you upset about something?”

“Yes… Randy caught a cold today. I think he and Sunny opened the window last night when it was raining… He even had to stay home from school for it. Will you go over to their room today?”

“Sure,” he breathed out. Then he pulled back slightly and looked into her face.

Violet sank down, but Mellow lifted her chin with his hoof and looked into her tear-stained blue eyes. “Don’t be afraid,” he said softly. “I’ll never hurt you again. I swear it on my life.”

At least until the war is over and the real Danfel returns, Greg thought. Or until I’m exposed. I’m only hurting her more by deceiving her! The gray pony wanted to howl at himself in frustration, but then he suppressed the urge. Arrgh, it’s so complicated… Why can’t I at least give her some hope?!

“You really have changed, Ian,” Violet said. “Is it… your trip having that effect on you?”

Mellow nodded.

“Yes. Being on the front lines and almost getting killed changes the way you look at life… and the ponies around you.” At least I didn’t have to lie about it. “I’m gonna go see Randy. I’ll just… change out of my work clothes.”

He let go of the lilac unicorn and headed for the bedroom, where a set of house clothes would surely be in the closet.

Taking off his shirt and hanging it up, Greg chose a white T-shirt and black shorts from the neat, crease-free spread of things. Danfel probably preferred to wear them at home, but the gray pony couldn’t remember exactly.

Who cares, I don’t think Violet would dare point that out to me, Mellow thought… and was ashamed of his own thoughts. What’s wrong with me… am I really starting to think like that freak already?! Tempest was right… No, I should hold on. Besides, it’d be weird explaining my clothes at home. Which means I’m worrying about it for nothing.

As he left the bedroom, he smiled at his “wife” with the corners of his lips and took a step towards the nursery…

A sudden realization hit him like an electric shock and made him freeze, already reaching for the doorknob with his hoof.

I’m supposed to walk in on kids I don’t know and pretend I’m their daddy. Sweat broke out on the gray stallion’s forehead. Only foalnappers do that… O-o-oh, why did I ever agree to this adventure…?

“D-darling? Y-you okay?” Violet asked behind his back.

Greg sighed heavily, remembering that he wasn’t alone in the hallway.

There’s no turning back. I have to go in.

“Yeah… sorry. I was just thinking,” he said and pushed the door of the room.

It didn’t budge, as if it was locked.

Mellow stared at the door for a second or two, then made a facehoof and pulled it back. With a creak, it opened.

It was dark in the nursery, but a narrow strip of light fell from the hallway. Greg looked closer and saw two beds against the far wall – and the frightened eyes of the foals staring back at him in the darkness.

“Daddy, it’s not me, it’s Randy!” the light-colored earth filly rambled, standing up on the bed. “It was his idea to watch the rain, I had nothing to do with it…!”

“Why are you lying… apchoo!” the bluish unicorn colt, a couple of years younger than her, replied gruffly and blew his nose noisily. “As if you didn’t want to…!”

Names and characteristics from the dossier immediately popped into Greg’s head.

Sunny Smirk, nine years old. A talkative and fidgety schemer. Evaded punishment by ratting on her brother. Trying to do well in school and generally maintain the image of a “proper” filly. No cutie mark. Favorite pastime is drawing.

Randy Crunch, seven years old. Quiet and shy introvert. He was cranky in his early childhood, but after Danfel’s “parenting methods” he tends to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Studies averagely, for which he occasionally gets beaten up. Not prone to lying, never complained about his sister, but never defended her either. There’s a scar on his left hind leg from being hit with a belt buckle. No cutie mark. Favorite pastime is reading.

“Quiet, kids,” Greg said, and the foals were instantly silent. The expressions on their faces became even more frightened.

I gotta do something right now. Something to defuse the situation. Why are they looking at me like that? Although they don’t seem to have Stockpony syndrome like Violet…

“No need to quarrel,” he continued, sitting down on the stool next to Randy’s bed. “It’s just the way it is. After all, you learn from the mistakes of others or from your own.” Greg turned to the colt who was staring at him in surprise. “Tomorrow I’ll leave your mother some money for milk and honey. When you drink it, you’ll be well in no time.”

“Thanks.” Randy sniffed. “Dad…”

“What?”

“Can you read us a book? Ple-e-ease…”

The colt turned on the night light and Greg noticed a thin book on the bedside table.

“Oh, good. Well, what do we have here…”

Mellow picked up the book and glanced at the cover.

Most of it was a picture of a purple night sky with pale pink circles of stars. A bright crescent moon hung over a hilly plain that looked like a battlefield. In the glow of the nightlight, Greg could even make out bloodstains and helmets in the grass, and he cringed inwardly. Who would let kids read something like this?

There was no author’s name; instead, the title stood out under the moon in a fancy white font: “Lunar Tales.” Mellow turned the book over. On the back of the cover was written in small letters, “APPROVED BY THE MINISTRY OF SCIENCE, EDUCATION AND CULTURE.” Next to it was the Ministry’s logo – a treble clef surrounded by a crescent moon with three stars between its ends.

Octavia Melody’s stylized cutie mark.

Sure. Who else? Well, let’s see how the younger generation is being brainwashed here…

There was a bookmark sticking out of the middle – purple, of course, and with Nightmare Moon’s black profile inscribed in the outline of the moon’s disk.

Propaganda as it is. In its purest form.

Greg opened the book and, sitting closer to the night light, flipped through the pages.

As he glanced through the text in the dim light of a small lamp, he couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly. Most of the stories in the anthology were actually reworkings of the usual Equestrian tales, but there were a few “original” ones as well, like “Why Batponies and Pegasi Have Different Wings” or “Moon Walk” – a story about a filly who turned into a batpony and became the apprentice of Nightmare Moon, who appeared to her in her dreams.

But Greg was interested in something else – a specific story.

The stallion cleared his throat and began to read aloud with expression.

“Once upon a time, when all ponies were just getting used to living together, two little sisters, both unicorns, were born into one of Equestria’s noble families. The elder was whiter than the sunlight on a summer’s day, the younger bluer than the evening sky after sunset.

“In those distant times, the Sun and Moon were raised and lowered by six of the strongest mages. It was not an easy job, and each time they were so tired that they could do nothing else but keep changing day and night. But one night they had used up all their strength in the ritual and could no longer raise the Sun for the new day.

“Horror gripped the lands of Equus. Nopony knew what to do; everyone feared that the night would last forever. Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, the longest and hottest day ever seen came.

“But two sisters came to the aid of the mages. They both were already skilled in magic, and after learning the spell used by the six, they were able to control the Sun and the Moon themselves. And when they had mastered this great power, it turned them into alicorns and gave them both pegasus wings. Seeing their power, the ponies recognized them as their new rulers. An era of peace and prosperity returned to Equestria.

“The sisters divided their duties. The elder sister took care of the Sun, and the younger took care of the Moon. But the ponies were used to playing and working during the day and sleeping at night, so the elder got all their love and respect while the younger was in her shadow.

“It didn’t help that at night she wandered through dreams and banished nightmares – ponies took it for granted and felt no gratitude. Only the nocturnal tribe of Thestrals, accustomed to sleeping without dreams during the day, honored the younger alicorn as the leading one in the ruling pair.

“Her elder sister grew proud and ceased to appreciate her younger helper. Moreover, the white alicorn dreamed of ruling the Moon – and thus gaining sole power over the pony lands.

“The younger sister would not tolerate this and refused to lower the Moon until the elder sister apologized and recognized her as her equal. But the elder sister refused and gathered an army to capture her and imprison her on the Moon. Not to be outdone, the younger sister enlisted the help of the Thestrals, who fought for her as their Princess.

“But the forces were unequal. Three races of ponies united against one and defeated the latter in a fierce battle at the Castle of the Two Sisters. The rulers also met in this battle and fought a magical duel face to face. But the elder sister cheated and used the power of six ancient artifacts known as the Elements of Harmony to defeat the younger and send her to the Moon for eternity. The younger sister, however, summoned the power of the stars and uttered a prophecy that read: ‘On the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in my escape, and I will bring about nighttime eternal.’

“After the defeat of their leader, the surviving Thestrals hid in caves and swamps, fleeing the madness and fury of the other three races. The ponies themselves have all but erased the memories of their nocturnal brethren.

“After getting rid of her rival, the elder sister began to rule all the ponies alone. In time, she became so arrogant and self-centered that she paid no attention to the wishes of her subjects, who continued to obey her blindly, and her croup could no longer fit on the throne as she ate banana cakes every day.

“A thousand years passed, and the prophecy came true. The younger sister returned to Equestria burning with righteous anger, but the elder sister pacified her with the offer to rule together.

“But this was only a ruse to lull the Lunar Alicorn’s vigilance. The Sun Princess was content with the way things were, and she had no intention of giving her sister any real power.

“For a while, peace reigned between the two alicorns. But when the younger sister talked about letting Thestrals live as equals with the other ponies, the elder one feared she might lose her power and decided to deal with the younger one decisively.

“The Lunar Pony was imprisoned in a dungeon on false charges. And those who defended her were ordered by the elder sister to be shot without mercy. When the younger sister learned of this, she gathered all her strength and broke free, taking with her those who remained loyal to her.

“And now, the ponies of the New Lunar Republic must unite to defeat the evil and self-absorbed Sun Princess and make her pay for all she has done.”

Buck, what unthinkable, inconceivable nonsense! Greg sighed and put the book back on the bedside table. Though… it’s all in Horsewell’s recipes. A half-truth seasoned with a convenient lie can justify anything.

“And you’re fighting for the Lunar Pony too, aren’t you, Daddy?” asked Sunny.

Mellow flinched at the question.

“I’m—” He swallowed. “I’m doing what I can. Just to make sure that… peace comes soon, and the ponies live happily ever after.”

“But we’re gonna win, right? Right?” Randy asked.

Greg looked into the colt’s innocent turquoise eyes and almost howled in pain. The gray stallion’s soul was being torn apart at that moment.

“Actually… it’s more complicated than it says here. Just as Celestia wasn’t a monster, Luna had her own weaknesses. Their fight was more of a misunderstanding… well, maybe some ponies wanted them to fight. No book will ever tell the true story. Because nopony can know the whole truth, only a part of it.”

Yeah, go ahead and change the subject. It’s so mature to evade the answer by occupying the foals’ brains with other information!

“They told us at school that Celestia ate foals for breakfast,” Sunny said thoughtfully. “Baked in banana sauce…”

Greg shuddered as he tried to imagine it.

But the worst part was how calmly the filly talked about it.

“It’s just the way things are said now,” the stallion sighed. “You just have to learn to think about what other ponies are saying. Maybe they don’t know the whole truth either. And also to keep your mouth shut in case of anything. And others would do well to do the same.”

He smiled and reached out his hoof to give Randy a fatherly boop on the nose…

But the little unicorn suddenly shrank into a ball and closed all four legs against his touch.

Like from a blow.

Greg jerked back. His breath came heavily out of his chest, and his back felt like it had been struck by a cold wire.

The gray pony staggered back a few steps, and then, unable to stand it, rushed out of the room.

Already in the hall he heard the voices of the foals.

“What’s up with him? He’s strange today…”

“Well, better that than the usual…”

That was the last straw.

Greg flew into the office and plopped down on the couch. The stallion groaned and his hoof slammed into the plush upholstery several times, then he banged his head against the hard elbow rest.

Finally, he collapsed, his entire body shaking violently.

When Violet looked in, she saw an unimaginable sight: her husband, a high-ranking LD officer nicknamed “Iron Ian” for his toughness, was crying.

April 4.

Jupiter to Aphelion

N.S. believed in the delay of the negotiations between F.P. and D.H.

A.W. put me under watch, but on my appeal through N.S. the surveillance was lifted.

Researched almost all available material in the archives on the request submitted.

Equestria is critically behind in the development and production of firearms. The Republic is preparing and stockpiling large numbers of the latest automatic rifles (more than 100,000 by the end of March). Likely that the army will soon be rearmed for a large-scale offensive. S.S. personally supervises many stages of the process.

There is an unknown abbreviation in the documents: MLRS. Decipher what it might be.

Research is also underway in three new areas.

1) Project Manehattan – the creation of weapons of mass destruction based on conventional aerial bombs with an added circuit of enchanted gems and an ampoule of dragon fire. According to calculations, the explosion of such a bomb should be thousands of times more powerful than usual. As far as I have learned, dragon fire is obtained by necromancy from dragons killed in battle. However, the location of the base where this is done is top secret. I believe it is near the Dragon Exclave within the NLR. The person in charge is Dr. Trottenheimer.

2) Project Horizons – the space program for which they plan to take over the unfinished spaceport near Hoofington. Their goal is to establish a base on the moon and put a constellation of satellites into orbit. Several military factories are secretly converted for rocket production. In charge is Delta Vee.

3) Project Steelpony – the creation of super-soldiers based on the developments of Chiropterra. They are researching ways to fuse a living body with armor and weapons, as well as enhance physical abilities. The base is the Lunenerbe Medical Institute in Manehattan. In charge is Beatrix Lulamoon. Supervisor is Gizmo Poindexter.

It will take me about a week to copy the documents from memory for transmission. Also request permission to recruit a sympathetic member of LC-IV to devise a plan to dismantle the Institute. Awaiting further instructions.

The gin and tonic was bitter and strongly flavored with some herbs. And the aftertaste had notes of juniper and sour citrus.

What nasty crap. How could Danfel like this stuff…?

Greg put the glass down and looked around the club’s blue-darkened room.

Techno from the dance floor blasted into his ears, drowning out all sound, and the flickering strobe lights made it seem like sparks were about to fly from his eyes. Many ponies were shaking in an ugly, twitchy parody of a dance; others were sitting at tables or at the bar. Behind puffs of stage smoke, the figure of the DJ, a unicorn with round dark glasses, stood on his hind legs at the console.

Hoofbeats was a rather fashionable place in the middle of Manehattan, and it wasn’t easy to get in. Not for LDs, though: black uniforms and insignia in the shape of stars and comets seemed to be a sure pass. Even now, there were glimpses of caps with cockades in the shape of the crest – or a crescent moon for ponice officers.

The standartenhoofer had a silver club card, which gave discounts on booze and served as admission to all but private parties. It also allowed him to bring along a guest, which Greg decided to take advantage of.

Just the day before yesterday, he had given Erwin the text of a new cipher at the club. And today the gray pony was going to have a conversation that wasn’t part of Tempest’s assignment – but Mellow needed it. Like a cure for a lingering pain.

Finding the right pony had been easy. Greg had remembered the name and, more importantly, the place of employment – at least three months back – and had used the power of an LD officer to send a messenger to the Manehattan commandant’s office with a letter for one of the employees. If he was no longer working there, it was necessary to find out where he had been transferred. But there was no need: the returning private reported that he had delivered the letter right into the hooves.

Greg could only hope that the receiver would get the meaning right and not mistake the invitation for a drink as a friendly gesture for the sake of recruiting. Especially since the gray pony already had a candidate to bring into the operation.

With the same letters LD and two stars on his collar.

And this pony would at least have to justify himself. No, beg Greg for leniency. Though… then the “standartenhoofer” wouldn’t let him get away with what he had done. Better just to confess.

There he is, Mellow thought as he saw the fidgety, winged figure approaching his table. The snitch who got off with a ticket for drunk driving.

“Evening, Standartenhoofer,” the light brown pegasus saluted as he approached and sat down across from him. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Unterhoofer Lazy Hack, right?” Greg asked coldly, looking at him through his drink.

“Y-yes, and what?”

“What were you doing on the evening of Nivose second with Consited Jacanapes and Stratospheres Dropper?”

“I… uh… that…”

The pegasus was stunned and stared at Greg with round eyes.

Greg put down his glass and waited for an answer.

Suddenly, Lazy clenched his teeth and jumped up, hitting the floor with his hoof.

“I knew this was a trap…!”

“Sit down,” Mellow said icily. “Or you’ll spend the night in the Lunar Chancellery. I’ve heard the cellars there are very comfortable…”

Lazy rocked back and forth for a moment, then flopped back down onto the banquette. In an instant, he seemed to shrink, as if all the air had been taken out of him.

“What do you want?” he asked in a low voice. “Money? An apology? A confession?!”

“All of the above and no bread,” Greg snorted. “And just to look you in the eye, you piece of shit. You sent your best friend and your uncle straight to the front…”

“What was I supposed to do?” Lazy yelled, standing up abruptly and slapping his hooves on the table. Mellow noticed the ponies starting to look at them. “Do I have to go to jail for company?! Besides, I was really just driving the car, it was Dropper who bashed that patrolman’s head in…”

Daddy, it’s not me, it’s Randy…! It was his idea to watch the rain, I had nothing to do with it…!

“Sit down!” Greg barked, and the pegasus shut up and sank back into his seat. “I’m sick of looking at you… Do you even know what happened to them, you scum?!”

“What?” Leisy looked up. “They—”

“Don’t pretend to care about their lives, I’ll never believe you. Your uncle’s fine… as fine as he can be. He was wounded by a shrapnel in Canterlot, but one of the soldiers carried him to the hospital. Dropper was sent to the rear, but he’ll soon be back at the front – and apparently with the rank of Hauptmann. His dream of fighting for the Republic has come true, albeit not in the way he originally intended.”

“How do you know that?” The pegasus looked at the earth pony in bewilderment.

Oops, that was a slip-up… But who is he to demand an explanation from Danfel?

“Talked to the commissars of his regiment. Believe me, I have ways to get that kind of information. And if I wanted to,” Greg’s voice dropped to a loud whisper, “I could even find out what you had for breakfast this morning and the dakimakura with the picture of which pony you’re fucking.”

Lazy was about to roll under the table.

“But… how did you know about the dakima—”

“I can tell from you that no mare’s gonna let you in. If she has any brains left.”

“Tell me… what was the name of the soldier who took my uncle out? Just so I know who to thank.”

“Private Greg Mellow,” said the gray pony. “But don’t bother, he went over to the enemy right after that. And he’d even shown up at the meeting of the three whores in Crystal City at the end of Ventose.”

“What a jerk!” Lazy said with emotion. “How on earth do bastards like that—” Suddenly his face was worried again. “How’s Consy?”

“He’s dead,” Mellow said, looking into the pegasus’ eyes. “The Equestrians’ attack had frightened him so much that he had decided to surrender on the battlefield. But he didn’t have time. He was slaughtered by a thestral from his and Dropper’s squad. And then your friend was ripped to shreds by the tracks of an Equestrian tank.”

Greg leaned closer.

“And it was all your fault. Only yours. Think about it. But I don’t want to see you in the capital,” he tapped the table, “ever more. Or I’ll contact the Gestaponies and ask them to send the case for review. You can even go to the front yourself. Although…” the stallion curled his lips scornfully, “you’d hardly help anyone there either. You’d better go and surrender to rid the Republic of yourself.”

The gray pony stood up and took a last look at Lazy. The pegasus stared into the void, his hooves wrapped around his head.

“Pay the bill,” Greg hissed. “Consider it a fine for wasting my time, you brat.”

He walked out of the club, feeling the pain in his soul replace the disgust he felt for Lazy and himself.

Am I really that much of an asshole now?

April 9.

Aphelion to Jupiter

Keep stalling. Then you can just tell N.S. that the trail was a bust.

The NLR spy network has been uncovered. Efforts are underway to locate and free F.L.

No recruiting. Five days to devise a plan. Execution time is the night of the 15th. Eight of our agents will be with you. Another will be given a package of documents.

The safe house address is 9 Bloom Street, fifth floor, right door. If there is a flower on the window, you have failed. There is a bottle of remover in the bathroom, as well as mane and coat dye. You will go to the operation in civilian clothes and with your real appearance. Take as much paperwork out of the institute as possible, destroy equipment and bodies.

Next, try to learn more about Projects 1 and 2 from the previous post.

MLRS is “Multiple Launch Rocket System.” Probably some kind of new weapon.

Be careful. A.W. may have made the surveillance less conspicuous and may have wired the house and car. Beware of the Hoofbeats: there is nothing to stop LC-IV from having full control of the place, too.

Keep the bucking secrecy.

The first thunderstorm of the year was raging over Manehattan.

Streams of water rained down from the sky onto the pavement, dimly lit by streetlights. Wires swayed in the wind over rooftops, and the windows of houses rattled. Well, if there wasn’t enough noise from the rain, the rolling thunder muffled conversations even more than the techno from the club’s dance floor.

The weather department’s a little overzealous, Greg thought, looking out of the alleyway at the Medical Institute looming on the corner. May be a good thing for us, though.

The building was only two stories high, but it was larger than even the Lunar Chancellery. Greg remembered that it had once been someone’s mansion where no one had ever really lived, but after the events of November, the owner had apparently stayed in Celestial Equestria, so the huge house had been turned over to Lunenerbe. And they were already having a lot of fun there.

The entrance to the institute was guarded by two LDs with submachine guns: a unicorn and an earth pony. They were supposed to be walking back and forth, keeping the porch clear of intruders, but because of the heavy rain overhead, they were standing on the top step between the columns, protected by a wide canopy. Greg could even make out the light of someone’s cigarette.

Tempest had obviously chosen a good time for the operation. But it was no wonder: the weather schedule was still published openly here, as it was in every other city. Any infiltrated agent could have leaked it to the other side of the front.

I wonder if it could be one of them. Greg looked back at the group of eight ponies crammed into the narrow alleyway with him. Nopony would tell me anything, though. Sadly, as always.

All of them, like Greg himself, wore black clothing and masks; under the thin jackets, armor was visible. The stallion didn’t know the agents’ names or what they looked like. They wouldn’t have recognized him either: Mellow had doused himself with remover at the safe house and waited half an hour for the waterproof dye to come off his coat and mane before heading to the rendezvous point. There was no flower on the window, so it was safe to be there. As for Violet, he had told her he would be working late and would probably stay there overnight.

He had parked his car – a black Marecedes with vanity plates – in a yard a few blocks away. It was not that difficult to drive; he just had to remember the clutch pedal all the time. But he didn’t want to go to the safe house on wheels, because there might be tracking amulets in the car. Erwin had scanned the vehicle with a special spell a few days ago and found nothing, but Mellow decided to be on the safe side anyway.

But he was worried for nothing. A couple of blocks away from the meeting place was a Gestapony van, brought in by the agents for a quick getaway. Such a car would not be stopped and checked, and if anything happened, it would not hurt to get rid of it.

At first there were nine ponies in black. But when one of them stretched a hoof after the password, Greg realized that it was a courier and gave him a package with the documents from the archive transcribed from memory, after which “Mr. Incognito” disappeared into the darkness.

Gathered like a bunch of conspirators, the stallion thought as he took another look at the ominous-looking building. Yeah, well, conspirators we are indeed. Only our goals are not the same as usual.

“How long gonna wait, Gray?” Wedge asked in a hoarse whisper, holding his rifle. “And most importantly, for whom?”

“The helper,” Greg replied, retreating deeper into the alley. “He’s the one who got us the plans of the building, and he also told me something about the security of the place. Besides, this way we can test him on the real thing.”

“And if he brings the Gestaponies with him?” growled Barge, who was much bulkier than the others. “You’ve thought of that?”

“Then he’ll be dead. I found out where he lives, so it won’t be a problem to find him and make him choke on an apple.”

Actually no, but who’s gonna check? The important thing is that at least my voice hasn’t wavered.

“Quiet. Someone’s coming,” Wedge whispered, pointing his rifle toward the street.

Greg pricked up his ears. Indeed, there was a soft clatter of hooves on the sidewalk, as if someone was walking slowly in search of a particular house.

Or an alleyway.

Everyone held their breath as a dark silhouette appeared in the passage. For a few seconds it seemed to stare into the darkness, then a spark of light flickered on the tip of its horn…

A hoof grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him under the archway. Another leg slammed down on the horn, breaking the spell and clamping his mouth shut.

“Silence”, Mellow’s voice came in his ear. “Are you sure nopony’s behind you?”

The unicorn gave a little shake of his head.

“A Gestapony!” Barge hissed, and eight guns were pointed at Greg and the unterhoofer. “Do you realize who you’ve brought here?! He’s gonna sell us all out!”

“I don’t think so,” Mellow grinned and let go of the unicorn. The latter staggered, but unlike last time, he stood up on all four legs with confidence. “Meet Unterhoofer Swift Snow, my eyes and ears in the Fourth Department… and right now, a hostage.”

“Hey, we’re not talking about this—” Snow objected, but shut up when the muzzle of Wedge’s rifle jammed into his mouth.

“If you move, I’ll shoot you. If you’ve brought the cops, too. Come with us; any wrong turn or run, and you’ll get a bullet. Understand?”

The unterhoofer nodded frantically.

Of course, Greg thought, with that ‘catheter’ in his throat…

Wedge hummed contentedly and pulled the barrel out of Snow’s mouth, then grimaced under his mask and squeamishly wiped the weapon on his jacket sleeve.

“Well…” Mellow looked around at the nine dark, armed figures. “Let’s go, then?”

The guard’s cigarette gave off light only a few inches around, but it still served as an excellent beacon. And the noise of the rain successfully masked the hoofbeats.

The small shells, carefully launched by telekinesis, hit the marble with a light thud.

“Wait, did you hear that?”

The cigarette light was obscured by a translucent haze, and two bodies fell onto the porch. The sleeping gas grenades had worked perfectly.

Blurry shadows leapt to the fallen guards and dragged them to the bushes, where they lay them down, having tied them up first. And then a group of ten ponies lined up outside the tall doors of the building, all their weapons pointed forward.

Except for the two who stood in the middle, under the cover of the side groups. One of them still had a pistol in its holster.

We’ll have to shoot everyone out there on sight, the one in front thought. But this is war. The same one that’s raging from Whinnyapolis to Hoofington right now. And there’s no way they don’t realize it. Maybe they’re not aware of everything that’s going on inside the Institute, and they’re just following orders. Whereas I’m making a choice.

“Let’s go,” he breathed, pointing his hoof at the door.

Lightning flashed and with a roar of thunder, the sluggish current of the night exploded with movement.

The doors swung open in a flash and the group burst into the building, leaping over the turnstiles. The Gestaponies at the entrance had no time to think before they were riddled with rifles and pistols. One of the gunmen crouched on the floor by the console. He pulled out a knife and cut the wire to the panic button.

Gunshots rang through the spacious, bright lobby. Somewhere in the distance, they heard the thumping of hooves galloping toward the attack site.

“Split up!” Greg shouted, turning to his team. “You three go to the second floor! Look for any papers there! The rest of you, follow me. Don’t shoot anypony unarmed. Okay, move out.”

After tossing a few more sleeping gas bombs into the side corridors, they headed for the main corridor, where barely a third of the mercury bulbs on the ceiling were lit.

Suddenly, the tip of a barrel peeked out from behind the door, and a burst of gunfire pierced the air.

“Get back!”

Everyone sprang to the sides and hid behind the square pillars holding up the ceiling. Bullets flew from the corridor again, shattering pieces of marble.

“Keep down!” Barge yelled from the left.

Greg turned toward him. The bulky stallion hoisted a thick pipe over his shoulder, its nozzle aimed at the door.

A grenade launcher?! But how…

Greg didn’t have time to finish the thought.

The pipe fired, and the whole place was covered in smoke. But the rumble of the explosion sounded as if through a thick membrane. Looking over his shoulder, Mellow saw that Snow had a pinkish spark on the end of his horn, apparently a soundproofing spell.

The gray pony nodded gratefully – and stepped out from behind the pillar, drawing a pistol from his holster.

The group burst into a cloud of smoke. The floor was littered with burning door debris and motionless bodies. The sight of flesh torn apart by the blast made Greg want to vomit, but he got over it. He remembered that he hadn’t eaten for half a day before he’d gone out on this mission.

“Come on,” he whispered, coughing from the smoke. “No point staying here any longer.”

After the rest of the passage, the seven ponies found themselves in the main corridor that ran parallel to the lobby on either side.

The whiteness of the walls and floor made his eyes water, and Greg shook his head. This isn’t the hospital in Canterlot, he reminded himself. There’s no mint-green unicorn playing the lyre. Just blinding lights, mutilated test subjects and psychotic doctors.

And just as he thought that, an elderly unicorn wearing glasses and a lab coat came running out of an office.

“Who are you?” he shrieked in a falsetto. “Who let you in here?! Guards…!”

Performing his signature trick of gagging a pony with his rifle, Wedge silenced him.

“Listen to me,” the agent growled through his mask. “Now you come with us – quietly! – and open all the doors. If you try anything stupid, or if we just don’t like it, you know what happens. Well?!”

The doctor just grunted in response.

“Go, you bastard!” Wedge didn’t deny himself the pleasure of kicking him in the bony butt.

“I… I don’t understand what you want to find here…” the doctor mumbled as he unlocked the next door. “We are doing peaceful research… here, look!”

He touched a switch with his magic and stepped aside.

The doorway revealed the interior of a typical laboratory. Complex synthesis machines and microscopes stood on tables, and in the back were shelves stacked with rows of test tubes filled with colorful liquids. However, Greg still got goosebumps at the mere sight of them.

I hope this retard doesn’t throw them in our faces. I wouldn’t be surprised if some ancient viruses were being cultured here.

Meanwhile, the group moved on.

The doctor selected the next key from the bunch, inserted it into the lock, turned it… and, swinging the door open, jumped aside with a yell, “Activation!”

And fell, cut down by one of the agents’ submachine guns.

“Fuck!” Barge swore. “What the hay did he just launch in there…?”

In the next second, the answer came tumbling out into the corridor.

Greg’s blood ran cold. Even though he’d already been sickened by the reports of the horrible experiments (fortunately almost all of them without pictures), he’d never seen the results himself.

The earth pony with the prosthetic left foreleg turned his face to the group.

It would have been better if he had not.

His skin was hanging in ugly shreds from his cheeks and forehead, and a magic crystal glowed red where an eye used to be.

The mutant opened his mouth and roared, but at least a dozen bullets pierced his head, and he collapsed to the floor. Brownish blood ran down the white marble. The red light in his eye faded, then went out.

There were strange sounds behind Greg’s back, and he turned around.

Unterhoofer Swift Snow was vomiting, his hoof resting on the wall.

“What the fuck is this?” Someone in the group poked the corpse with a hoof. “They… they were… turning their own soldiers into… this?!”

“Watch out!”

Suddenly, the lying pony’s red eye flashed again. The “corpse” rose abruptly and snapped his teeth, ripping the agent’s leg off in an instant. The agent collapsed to the floor, screaming in pain.

Three more mutants came out of the room behind the first one.

Barge’s grenade launcher thundered, and the subjects were scattered to either side. There were wires and metal fibers sticking out of the pieces of their torn bodies.

“How many of them are there…” Wedge muttered, reloading his rifle.

Holding the barrel to the head of the agent writhing on the floor, one of his comrades pulled the trigger. The convulsions stopped instantly.

“What are you doing?!” Greg exclaimed. “He’d be—”

“—a nuisance to us in battle and in retreat,” was the answer. “And if they’d caught him, he’d have given away all the names and passwords. Maybe they’d turn him into a monster too.”

A siren wailed and the overhead lights flashed red. Then all the doors swung open, and more monsters crawled into the corridor.

“There!” Snow shouted, pointing with his hoof.

Mellow looked back, and his mane stood on end.

Three unicorns were charging at them, shooting bolts of magic from their horns, protected by a common force field that shimmered purple in the air.

The corridor exploded with gunfire and shouts. Greg clenched his pistol in his teeth, but a powerful blow knocked the gray pony onto his back. The gun clattered to the floor and bounced to the side.

Greg looked up. A pegasus… or rather what had once been a pegasus, was staring at him with animal hatred. A heavy hoof slammed into his jaw, knocking the back of his head to the floor.

Through the veil of tears, the gray pony saw the wing, made up of folded metal sections with pointed tips, swing up and swoop straight for his throat… slowly… slo-o-owly… sssllloooowwwlllyyyy…

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

His right cheek stung sharply – and then it was as if a hydraulic press had been removed from his chest and the sound of a body falling beside him.

Blinking, Greg saw Snow standing nearby. Two pistols, his and Mellow’s, were floating in the unicorn’s telekinetic field, and the unterhoofer was looking at his companion with concern.

“Snow, look out…!”

Greg rolled over and knocked the Gestapony off his hooves. The body of another mutant pegasus landed like a missile where they had just been.

There was no time to think. Climbing out from under the fallen Snow, Mellow glanced sideways for a weapon.

On the floor, near the body of one of the agents, lay a rifle.

Without a second’s hesitation, Greg grabbed the new Lavender and fired all the remaining bullets into the face of the monster that had turned towards them.

Blinded, the subject roared and lunged past, his hooves pressing against his bloody face. At that moment, Snow sprang up and emptied both pistols into the back of his head. The pegasus fell to the floor and never moved again.

Greg took a breath and touched his own cheek with a hoof. The fur on his leg immediately turned red. So I got him after all. And he could blow my head off with a wing like that if he wanted to.

“At the base of the neck!” shouted the unterhoofer to the others. “That’s where they’re vulnerable!”

Belatedly, though.

Two more earth ponies lay bleeding on the floor, their necks twisted unnaturally. Two of the three unicorns had been blown apart by a rocket-propelled grenade, and Barge was now fighting hoof to hoof with the third. Greg was relieved to see that all three had their horns broken off at the root.

“Hah!”

Barge wriggled and with a swipe of his hind legs slammed the last of the test subjects against the wall. Wedge leapt to them and, clutching a knife in his teeth, plunged the blade into the base of the unicorn’s skull.

Everything came to a halt. None of the opponents were moving anymore. Only the siren continued to wail under the flashing reddish light, making it seem as if the corridor walls, floor and ceiling were all smeared with blood.

Greg looked around – and could barely keep himself from cursing.

Only four of the seven who had stayed on the ground floor had survived: Mellow himself, Wedge, Barge and Snow. The latter was apparently trying to pry open the door at the end of the corridor.

“Holy shit…” Barge said as he looked at the corpses. “Guys, how’s that, huh…?”

Then he shook his head and looked up at Greg with a sigh.

“Alright. To Discord, all of it. Let’s just blow this place up and get the fuck outta here.”

“There’s a basement!” Snow shouted.

The unicorn stood at the open door, waving his hoof at everyone.

Barge grunted and spat, then headed off first. Greg paused to reload his pistol.

As the gray pony approached the last of the survivors, he sucked in air through clenched teeth.

If those freaks could keep such monsters on the ground, what’s waiting for us underneath? Fuck it… But we have to deal with it. Make one less piece of Tartarus in Equestria. And we will do it, no matter what.

I will. Because it’s the choice I’ve made.

The stairwell was half-dark. But the siren’s monotonous howl no longer reached here, and the light of sparse lamps was cold and white. They seemed to use enchanted crystals instead of chemical tubes.

After two flights of stairs, the fighters found themselves at another door.

“Step asi-i-ide…!” Barge pointed his grenade launcher at the door again.

“Wait,” Snow said suddenly, going to the door and pulling out a set of keys with magic, apparently taken from the mad doctor’s corpse.

The huge earth pony clucked his tongue, slung the grenade launcher onto his back and switched to the rifle around his neck.

Half a minute later, all four of them were entering the inner sanctum of Lunenerbe’s lair.

A few yards ahead, the bright corridor was blocked by some kind of transparent curtain cut into strips. As soon as the door closed behind the last of the group, jets of cold steam suddenly shot from the walls.

“Ahhhhh!!! What the—” Barge roared, trying to shield himself from the damp suspension that filled the air.

“Calm down, it’s just disinfectant,” Snow said, shaking himself off and stepping through the curtain. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time already.”

The others followed him through the transparent strips of unknown material.

This corridor was more than half as long as the one on the ground floor, but there were almost as many doors with small square windows. There seemed to be tiny rooms behind them.

And at the opposite end was the Door.

Greg gulped as he saw the huge steel rectangle with the valve lock. Behind it was definitely what the whole place had been built for. Something worth half a floor for.

“Well, how do we get there?” Wedge muttered, expressing everyone’s question.

Suddenly, a lock clicked on one of the doors and everyone turned in that direction.

A blue unicorn mare with a tousled white mane stepped out into the corridor, yawning. Her mark was a lilac crescent moon and a wand on it.

As soon as she saw the four barrels pointed at her, her sleep was gone in an instant. “What—”

Barge shoved the unicorn sharply into the room, where everyone else had immediately squeezed in. Wedge slammed the door shut and watched the corridor through the window.

Greg glanced around the small cubbyhole. Apart from the bare plastered walls, there was only a narrow couch, a desk and a chair buried under a pile of papers and files. A brightly colored corner of a paperback book peeked out from under the cushion.

Typical dwelling of an employee of an establishment like this.

Barge sat the unicorn down on the couch and aimed his rifle at her dazed face.

“Who are you?! What are you doing here?” he growled. “Speak up!”

“Wait a moment…” Snow said and quickly snapped a locking ring on the mare’s horn. “That’s it, now you can talk.”

“Tr-rixie…” the unicorn whimpered. “G-great… and Powerful…”

“Dr. Beatrix Lulamoon?” Greg guessed. “The supervisor of the Project Steelpony?”

“Y-yes…” The mare stared at him. “And h-how you—”

“What. Are. You. Researching here?”

Instead of answering, the unicorn burst into tears.

“Answer him!” Barge swung at her for a punch, but Snow caught his hoof with a magical field.

“Let me do this. I think I can do better.”

The huge stallion just waved his hoof, almost knocking Greg’s head off in the small space. “Do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

Snow took a seat on the couch next to Trixie and wrapped his leg gently around her shoulders. “Please don’t be afraid. Just tell me what you’re doing. I promise, we won’t hurt you… if you obey us, of course.”

“We’re… making a s-super-powerful p-pony,” the unicorn said, sniffling. “A univers-sal s-soldier… With a h-horn and w-wings…”

“An alicorn?!” Barge’s eyes bulged.

“Yes… a-and… usual ones… Strengthen the body and… m-magic…”

“Now I see where all those monsters above came from,” Wedge said. Turning back to the unicorn, he added, “Forget about them. They’re dead. Fortunately.”

“No!” Trixie shrieked and jumped up from the couch, but Snow gently put her back down. “You’re not… Our project! We’ve put so much effort in it…!”

“And pony lives!” interrupted Barge. “How many more were you willing to maim to achieve your goal?! And many of them had families! They weren’t just pieces of meat you could plug crystals and wires into and hope they’d walk again! Do you have any idea what you morons have done?!”

Trixie was pathetic to look at.

It was as if she was trying to crawl away from Barge as he loomed over her, but she only pressed her back harder and harder into the wall. Her eyes widened with new tears at his words and her lower lip trembled.

“Tr… Tr-rixie just… d-did what she was told…”

“You all do what you’re told,” Barge said, turning away. “And think you’ve found the perfect excuse. Like, it wasn’t your fault, it was someone else up there…” He shook his head. “What a shame… Just not a ruthless state machine, but a pizza delivery…”

“What’s this?” Greg asked suddenly, and everyone turned to look at him.

The gray pony was standing at the head of the couch, looking at a book he had pulled out from under the cushion.

On the cover was an ominous-looking building surrounded by clouds and lightnings. The title in big red letters read: “The Bloody Rainbow. All the Shocking Truth About the Cloudsdale Weather Factory.” At the bottom was the author’s name, Wooden Toaster.

“Another piece of propagandist bullshit,” Wedge snorted, looking over Greg’s shoulder. “Just like these Lunazis make.”

“Wooden Toaster, he’s Glaze,” Trixie said, fluttering her eyelids. “Don’t you know Glaze?”

This name was familiar to Greg.

Glaze had been the second announcer and DJ on Radio Nox in the Lunar Republic, after Vinyl Scratch. As he’d once said on a talk broadcast, he’d grown up in Cloudsdale and even worked in the weather factory for a while. And as he put it, he’d witnessed such horrors there that he moved to Manehattan immediately after the Revolution, where he could finally talk about it without fear of arrest.

If Celestia can eat foals in the minds of these retards, then really – why not slaughter teenage pegasi for rainbows? Mellow snorted and tossed the book away squeamishly. Perhaps this Glaze has something to do with the sordid clopfics about the Princess of Equestria and her entourage being spread by the lowbrow papers…? I wouldn’t be surprised, though.

“I wish we didn’t,” he said coldly, and wiped his hoof on his jacket, feeling the thick armor plating beneath. “What’s behind that door at the end of the corridor?”

“There’s… our ‘Prototype Zero,’” Trixie replied in a strained voice. “The stallion… Tr-rixie found him once… lying unconscious by the wagon when… um… hiding from the events of last fall… But we were caught and… given a choice: either work for them or…” She sobbed again. “Or be killed. And… Tr-rixie agreed. They took us to Manehattan, and Trixie took some courses and got her doctor’s degree… Since then, Trixie’s been living in this basement and… p-perfecting that pony.”

“How do you open that door?”

“There’s a magic lock. Trixie has to s-send an impulse and the crystal will recognize her energy.”

“So you’re coming with us,” Barge said. “Get her out.”

“What? No… how dare you… Ah!”

Wedge, who had started to pull Trixie off the couch, couldn’t take it any longer and slapped her. It worked: the unicorn was distracted and allowed herself to be dragged towards the exit. There she began to flail again, and Wedge slammed her face against the door before pushing her out into the corridor.

Greg turned away. Inside him burned the desire to put the agent in her place, but he realized it would look odd right now and only waste valuable time.

We mustn’t stoop to such lowliness. Never.

He was the last to leave, following Swift Snow. Wedge and Barge had already dragged the sluggishly resisting Trixie towards the huge steel door. A trail of blood from the mare’s broken nose ran across the floor.

She pointed her horn at an inconspicuous opening in the huge door and, concentrating, shot a small white spark into it.

The red light on the side of the door turned green, and immediately there was a grinding sound. The door began to move aside.

“Thanks for your help,” Snow said as he approached the mare. “And now—”

She jerked to get away, but the unterhoofer caught her with his telekinesis. Then he deftly placed a blocking ring on her horn and pulled two pairs of shackles from somewhere.

“These are to keep you from escaping.”

“Celestia has mercy…” came Barge’s whispered voice.

He, Wedge, and Greg stood at the threshold of the great hall that contained what Lunenerbe was so eager to hide.

The walls were lined with large tanks filled with variously colored, murky liquids. And in them floated the bodies of ponies – some seemingly intact, but mostly mutilated or cut into pieces. Greg was sickened by the sight of a heart, unconnected to anything, beating rhythmically in the green slurry.

And in the center of the room, “Prototype Zero” was placed on a pedestal.

It used to be the body of a pale red stallion with a brown mane. However, now he resembled anything but a normal pony. Instead of eyes like the monsters on the first floor, he had crystals, but of a yellowish hue. Wires and steel cores protruded from the flesh all over his body.

But that wasn’t all.

On the forehead of the “prototype” there was a cap hidden by fur – obviously a horn was supposed to extend from there. On his back, there were steel wings made of plates and placed in deliberately made cavities.

And on the floor near the pedestal sat a unicorn – a technician, apparently – working on the matrices around him, from which wires ran to the half-disassembled head of the alicorn.

When the technician turned at the sound of the door, he jumped up and stared at them.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAArrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!” someone suddenly yelled.

Past Greg and the others, Snow charged with a submachine gun in his teeth.

Dozens of bullets hit the walls of the tanks. The hall filled with the rattle of gunfire and clinking glass. Puddles of chemicals began to spread across the floor.

Snow dropped his weapon and slumped to the floor, then rested his forehead on his hooves and shook with sobs.

“Aaah, you bitches! You’ll pay for this!” shouted the technician.

His horn glowed brightly, and with a face contorted with rage, he unleashed magic into the matrices connected to the “prototype.”

A shot rang out, and the unicorn fell to the ground. A bullet from Wedge’s rifle found his head.

But it was too late.

The red pony’s eyes glowed yellow. A horn emerged from his forehead, and his wings spread out like a deadly metallic blanket, enchanted crystals glittering in their sockets.

The monster’s mouth opened, and a low, almost infrasound roar rumbled through the room, causing everyone to cover their ears and fall to the floor. The “alicorn’s” horn burst into flames, and the clamps that held his massive body to the ground shattered with a clang.

And then… out of the monster came music.

Greg’s jaw dropped at the absurdity of what was happening.

The sounds flowing from somewhere inside the mechanized head were distorted by interference like a bad turntable, and the melody itself was composed as if by DJ Pon-3. At least Mellow couldn’t think of any other instrument that could make that sound than her console with buttons and vinyls.

The red pony flapped his wings and soared up. Hovering below the high ceiling, he spotted the stunned, dazed agents with his magical eyes – and swooped down on them, blazing his horn to attack.

Everyone immediately jumped aside; Barge had time to fire his rifle a few times at the monster. The “prototype” made a sharp turn just above the floor and fired magic at the stallion. The only thing that saved Barge was that he slipped on the chemical sludge and fell down. The impulse that flew directly over his head shattered one of the surviving tanks.

Meanwhile, the monster… began to sing, preparing for another attack.

I wish I was a mobile supercomputer,
A breakthrough of the future…

Greg fired twice, aiming for the back of his head. The “alicorn” turned and sent a blast of energy at the gray pony, but Greg dodged, and the magic hit the wall. Shards of stone and crumbling plaster flew everywhere.

With the dissected harmony,
I’ll get rid of my mortality…

Meanwhile, the “prototype” turned his attention to Wedge, who was firing at him from behind some technical equipment. In one fell swoop, the red pony blew the machine apart with a burst of magic. Wedge rushed away – only to be slammed to the ground by telekinesis and sliced in half by the sharpened ends of the steel feathers. A pool of blood quickly spread beneath the shredded body.

Slashing the flesh and strengthening the bone,
Embrace this sparkling mesh, this power’s all my own…

Greg jumped onto the monster’s back. With his hooves on the wings, he grabbed his pistol with his mouth and fired the remaining bullets into the base of the alicorn’s skull.

Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham!

The bullets just bounced off the metal plate with a tinkling sound.

Mellow’s eyes widened in horror.

An incredible force lifted him into the air and hurled him across the room to the far wall.

His back hitting the stone blew the air from his lungs and tears streamed from his eyes. Mellow slid down the wall to the floor, feeling the taste of blood in his mouth.

All these my simple parts are interchangeable,
Infinite neural linkings when you’re digital…

With one eye half open, Greg blinked and looked out at the battlefield.

Barge and Snow were racing around the hall, fleeing from the monster’s attacks. The thick pipe of the grenade launcher swayed back and forth on Barge’s back, slowing him down.

Another magical volley sent the big guy tumbling to the floor, bellyflopping through a liquid with a foul, pungent smell. Only Barge’s natural strength and endurance allowed him to jump up immediately and keep running.

Acquiring might with wires is sensational.
Take out any old and put in the new…

“Gimme a grenade!” Snow suddenly shouted.

“What for?!”

“Gimme it! Now!”

All was drowned again in the roar and blinding flash of magic.

When Greg regained his sight, he clenched his teeth and groaned.

Snow lay on the floor, crushed by the monster’s leg. Blood spurted from under the steel-reinforced hoof. The “alicorn” seemed to be trampling the unterhoofer’s chest from within.

My hunger for perfection is unquenchable,
A prototype completely operational…

A faint smile spread across Snow’s bloodied face. And then he lifted something with his trembling hoof.

A grenade. Without a safety pin.

The monster’s yellow eyes blinked in bewilderment. But with all his strength and reaction time, he still didn’t have time to do anything.

The explosion caused Greg to cover his head with his hooves, which had been hit by a few splinters. His ears hurt from the rumble. Unable to hear even himself, the gray pony coughed and opened one eye.

The “prototype” was hovering a few feet above the floor. The monster’s front legs had been completely torn off, hind legs up to the knees, and his face and belly skinned, revealing a mess of raw, bleeding flesh and protruding bones embedded in a metal frame and entangled with synthetic sinews. The explosion had scraped a good third of the steel “feathers” from the wings, but the power of the crystals was still enough to keep the “alicorn” in the air.

All that was left of Unterhoofer Swift Snow was a bloody stain and his entrails scattered all over the floor.

Greg turned away and vomited bile.

I’m sorry, Snow. And thanks for everything. You must have realized something far more important than anything I thought before.

This armored alloy shell is impenetrable…

And at that moment, the “alicorn” was struck by a grenade launcher shot.

When the smoke cleared, all that remained of the red pony was his head, which produced a faint crackling sound.

My ex…tence is indisp…sable…

Bang! It was Barge who fired a bullet into the monster’s eye.

“Now, you’re banned from Equestria, bitch.” The stallion spat and walked over to Greg. “You alright there?”

“Guess I am…”

Mellow coughed, spitting up blood. Then, staggering, he slowly stood up.

His insides were on fire and his back felt as if it had been stabbed with a hundred or two needles, but he kept relatively steady on his hooves. The gray pony decided that he would surely make it to the van.

Barge reached into his large saddlebag and pulled out a bomb, a bundle of explosives with crystals attached.

“I think I’ll put this one here and the rest upstairs to bring down this shithole…”

He tossed the bomb in the air with his mighty hoof, trying it out, and then threw it upwards. The special velcro caught on the ceiling and the crystals on it glowed softly.

“Now off we go.” Barge pulled Greg towards the exit. “We gotta take this cunt with us, or she’ll die… Let’s go, Gray. There’s nothing left for us to do here.”

The walk back to the giant door was longer than it had been from the front lines to the field hospital when Mellow had been carrying Dropper on his back. It turned out to be an enormous effort to move his legs. He tried not to choke on the smells of gunpowder, chemicals, blood, and death.

But as soon as he stepped out into the corridor, he breathed easier, and his mind cleared. The goal was clear: get out of the basement, leave the building, wait for the detonation and get to the van. Barge and the agents sent upstairs would be responsible for the explosion and stuff.

Trixie was at the far end, by the door to the stairs. Restrained on her front and back legs, she could do little more than crawl on her belly. Now, propped up, she tried to turn the doorknob with her teeth. She glanced fearfully at the two survivors as they came into view.

“You’re coming with us.” Barge lifted her with a single tug and dragged her along by the chain that bound her forelegs. “Your fate will be decided by a tribunal.”

Trixie didn’t answer, just cried quietly.

They made their way out into the ground floor corridor. Barge hoofed Greg the bag of bombs, and the gray pony stuck them on the walls as high as he could. Trixie shuddered at the sight of the corpses – and this time Mellow couldn’t blame her for that.

On the way to the lobby, however, it became clear that the operation had been off track for quite some time.

It seemed that the three Greg had sent up to get the documents had searched the place and come back down when the “law and order” forces arrived.

One of them was lying on the floor with his head bashed in, while the other two were shooting from the doorway, apparently from the ponice who had arrived. A bag of papers lay nearby.

“Where the hay you guys been?” yelled one of the agents. “Another minute and we’d have run out of ammo—”

“Who gives a shit…” Barge waved away, shoved Trixie into Greg’s hooves and took the grenade launcher off his back. “Run, I’ll catch up!”

No one had to be persuaded.

As he raced back toward the main corridor with Trixie at his heels, Mellow looked back with concern at the mighty figure of the stallion covering their escape. Perched on his haunches, the bulky pony displayed his infernal weapon from behind the shattered doors, and then there was an explosion and screams.

“Is there a back door?” one of the agents carrying the bag of documents asked as the group of four burst into the scene of the recent fight with the mutants.

“Should be…” Greg replied, looking around at the rows of doors. “Okay, I think this way.”

This door was different from the others, at least in that it was double and directly opposite the lobby. As luck would have it, it was locked, but one of the ponies in black kicked it open at a run.

“If Great Trixie had a free horn, she could have done this herself,” the unicorn mare muttered.

The attackers sprinted through the dark vestibule and out into the street.

The storm was over, and the thunder no longer drowned out the gunfire. Huge puddles formed underhoof, but what was water compared to blood and chemicals? Greg even scooped up from a puddle and wiped his face with his hoof, washing away the dried blood on his cheek.

The cool of the night finally refreshed his brain. The adrenaline circulating in his blood ebbed, and Greg’s knees trembled again.

Barge jumped out the back door, dragging a grenade launcher and three rifles he had picked up from the dead.

“Run!” yelled the bulky stallion. “It’s gonna blow!”

The five ponies had just made it to the backyard fence when the majestic building lit up from within with the flashes of the explosions – and then began to collapse.

In one fell swoop, Barge tore through a section of the grate and was the first to leap into the nearest street. He was followed by the agents with the papers and Greg with Trixie.

“Go, go, go!”

Nearby, a black van with a purple emblem glowed in the darkness.

A horn and wings – how bloody familiar.

Everyone climbed into the spacious interior, and Barge hopped into the driver’s seat. The engine roared and the van rolled down the street, away from the collapsing building.

Greg was staring out the back window, the gray pony’s eyes reflecting the glow of the flames.

[1] Thanks to Hans Zimmer for his masterpiece soundtrack to the movie Inception.

[2] The various departments of the Lunar Chancellery:
I – personnel and organizational matters;
II – administration and finance;
III – internal security;
IV – Gestapony – secret ponice;
V – criminal ponice;
VI – external security – ponitical intelligence;
VII – reference and documentation service;
the Lunabwehr – military department.