Most ponies know by heart of the day the Great War started. The seventh of April, 1011, was the day all of Equus met Tartarus on Earth, all except me. I had been dragged through hell and back long before the first changelings marched across the Equestrian border. I suppose some ponies could even say my failure was the tipping point that brought all the pains of this war, or, at least, that's what you seem to be telling me.
I remember how cold it was, as my mission started. Sixteen degrees negative, that also happened to be the angle my transport plane descended at. I remember how the crackling intercom nearly made me wince as the pilot announced the drop zone was only five miles out. I remember making the calculation in my head of how long that would take. The average cruise speed of these updated planes was roughly a hundred and eighty knots, giving me just a hundred seconds to review my mission.
Three years ago, the Changeling Army annexed Olenia, the kingdom of the deer. Equestria had no interest in involvement, yet something was suddenly dug up that made S.M.I.L.E. immediately order an insertion. I only had two photographs to go off of: a blurry aerial shot of a half-destroyed airfield, and- I remember a distinct shock the first time I saw this- a sepia tone portrait of a pegasus mare. In hindsight, it would almost be foolish to have expected any deer to have forced Equestria's hoof. Aside from the two photos, the only direction I had was the identity of them: the airfield, a dozen miles southwest of the capital city, Hjortland, was connected to a classified research facility; and the mare was the subject I needed to exfiltrate from that facility, an immigrant from Puerto Caballo named Valencia Valedora.
The intercom crackled again, fifteen seconds out. The pilot's announcement hadn't finished before I stood at attention at the back of the plane. I stretched my wings as the loading ramp opened; S.M.I.L.E. had picked me, a pegasus, because even a single parachute was too big an expense for them. The intercom crackled for the last time, staying on after the five second announcement.
Three.
Two.
Drop.
The plane pulled upwards as soon as my hooves left the cabin. I held my wings tight as I shot through the chilling winds, no guides but my eyes as I plummeted towards the forest at the brink of dawn. I could feel a vibration from the one accessory I had the privilege to drop with- aside from the combat vest it clung onto- a radio pack. I carefully shifted my left wing to reach the volume dial, and a sudden pop told me it had begun receiving.
"Excellent drop form," noted the gruff voice on the other side, my commanding officer- a stallion named Sky Eye. It had been thirty hours since I last saw him, a night-blue thestral with a raven black mane. He now resided on a cruiser within Luna Bay, barely within radio range. I knew he couldn't see me even as a speck, and the moment my earpiece went quiet, I held in the talk button to snark back,
"Oh, great view of it you must have gotten. Or did you bring a whole observatory onto the ship?" I let go of the button, letting Sky Eye have his turn on the radio. That mangy cur- no offense to diamond dogs- just chuckled. He took the effort to turn on the transmitting end of his radio to laugh.
Finally, after what felt like an hour- closer to six seconds- he returned to a stern composure, I could almost feel it through the radio. "Operational security protocols state that codenames must be used so no eavesdropping bugs can trace us back. From this point on, you will be Silent Serenade. I will be Aquila. The target is designated Piña Colada"
I wasn't sure why he picked his name after a griffon country. I didn't think he said it right, either, but I didn't pry as I responded, "Silent Serenade copies, Aquila." I could just about see the individual trees, and quickly informed Aquila, "Serenade opening wings in three, two, and out!" I released the talk button just as my wings unfurled, making me jump midair as the air drag pushed against my wings.
The trees still crept closer. Soon I could see each needle, but with a flap of my wings, I leveled off, cutting through the air as my velocity went parallel. I could see the clearing just half a mile away. I had put so much focus on dashing forwards, that I forgot to watch my altitude, and I wasn't prepared as I felt something brush against my hoof.
I was flying into the trees. Another one clipped a wing, and suddenly I was crashing down. I wasn't sure how I missed any trunks as I came skidding across the forest floor, but by the time I stopped, there were only half a dozen trees in front of me before the clearing and airfield. I heard a crack, and quickly froze up, expecting a wave of pain any second.
Nothing came. I reached for my vest, and realized the source of the sound. Inside my right pocket, one of my three potassium cyanide pills had been crushed. They were meant to be used if I was discovered, and when the soldiers left my body to rot, I could take the counteragent embedded in my back tooth. I suppose now that it wasn't of much consequence, you can only fake your death so many times before it gets suspicious.
I trotted, hooves light as I fluttered to minimize my force on the ground, towards the clearing. The field was not as derelict as the old photograph showed. Mixed groups of changeling and deer soldiers, all with Gewehr 7 rifles, unloaded crates from rows upon rows of armored trucks. There must have been at least two dozen of these trucks.
I pressed in my radio, saying, "Serenade to Aquila. They're up to something here. I see hundreds of unmarked crates."
"Aquila reads," announced Sky Eye, "That is not part of the mission, Serenade. Focus on locating Piña Colada."
I looked further down the field after the transmission cut. The one remaining hangar was the destination of all the crates. Luckily, the soldiers were still only at the row closest to the hangar, so I took my chances and dashed to the back row, soaring over the fence around the edge of the clearing. I was visible for four seconds, but no shouts came after me.
I leapt into the back of a truck, curiously peeking at the crates. It seemed there was a label on them after all. At the very least, they each had a small, colored dot. I carefully pried open a green-marked crate, finding a bundle of hay. Another green one contained apples, just food, nothing conspicuous. I decided to hide inside the hay crate, there was no way I could run all the way from the trucks to the hangar.
I believe it took sixteen minutes before the soldiers got to this truck. When one finally gripped my crate, I could hear them straining to move me. "Scheiße!" muttered the soldier, in a light but still distinctly changeling accent. The accent, of course, could've just come from the way they learned the language, as they continued to say in the changeling tongue, "I thought we were past the heavy ones, it's like a whole deer is in this!" I could see traces of light as they popped the lid off. I only had a couple inches of grain above me, and when they placed a hoof inside, I was sure I would be discovered. "Tch, typical Olenians, just trying to catch favor by giving us extra." I barely stopped myself from sighing in relief as the changeling closed the lid again.
I once again barely kept myself quiet as the changeling roughly pushed me about. It felt like they chose the longest route, handling the crate as roughly as possible before they halted. I assume they needed to access an electronic lock, because after a couple seconds, a mechanical beep sounded, and I was tossed one last time into a heated space. I waited in silence for fifteen seconds before deciding it was safe to get out.
I had miscalculated. Just in front of me, someone lay in the shadows. They heard me, and turned over, revealing a half-eaten pastry. We locked eyes on each other in silence, but it turned out my luck hadn't quite turned sour. This someone, or, rather, somepony was exactly who I was looking for.
"Psst. Valedora, over here!" I whispered, "You, uhh, you mind proving you're not a bug?" She continued to stare at me in silence. As the awkward encounter continued, I noted how similar the two of us were. Without the disguise of sepia, Valencia's indigo mane matched mine in all but length, and her blue fur was just a shade lighter than mine.
"You, you're another one of those secret agents like from mi comic favorita, aren't you, miss!" She nearly shouts.
"Shh! This facility is swarming in changelings, if you want to get out, be quiet. Now, I need you to show that you aren't a changeling yourself." When she again kept quiet, I sighed, and pressed my radio, calling, "Serenade to Aquila, I think I've found Piña Colada, but how am I supposed to make sure she isn't a bug?"
No response. Was I inside a shielded facility? Before I could worry, a familiar pop in my ear pushed away those doubts. "Aquila reads," Sky Eye confirmed, "Perform the Chiropterran salute, and tell me her response."
I finished leaping from the crate, and brought my right wing to my forehead, sucking in the right half of my lower lip. Without a fang to peep out, it looked absolutely daft, but as soon as I did my part, Valencia stomped her left hoof twice before she gave a more universal pony salute. I called into my radio again, "Serenade to Aquila, Piña Colada provided two left stomps and a standard salute."
"Aquila confirms, Piña Colada secured. She knows who the insider is that has your exit ready." I finally could give my sigh of relief. I looked up towards Valencia, asking,
"Ready to leave?" She shook her head.
"We can't," pleaded Valencia, "The research here must be destroyed." I shook my head back, stating,
"My mission is to bring you back, nothing else."
"But I won't go with it intact! If these get to mass production, the changelings will win the war before Equestria can mobilize a single unit!"
"What in the name of Celestia could possibly be that decisive?"
"Guided missiles. Flying bombs that can aim and maneuver itself mid-flight. They even have plans for a variant that can be launched from an airplane!"
Present Day- May 1, 1011
"So, you chose to listen to the asset instead of your commanding officer?" Asks the trial counsel, Earth pony Major Finch, already knowing the answer. Clearly, he's more interested in ending this court-martial than getting the full picture. The fact that it's taken nearly three months almost makes me relate. The idea of execution just doesn't happen to be favorable enough to me, and thankfully, the strike of a gavel portends a remark from the judge, thestral Brigadier General Moonlit Aurora,
"Let Captain Cirro continue her testimony."
Of course, now it's time to seal my fate.
I followed Valencia northward, into a hastily constructed skyway. Underneath, the ground dipped into a valley, but we trotted forwards into the fifth floor of a great edifice. We were in open view, a soldier could easily find us. We reached the monolithic building, and just before we could go through the doors, a deer passed from the other side.
He looked at us in confusion, and I calculated how to respond. I didn't need to do much, it turned out, as the deer remarked, in half-broken changeling, "Cute, you're trying to match our little scientist. You still need some work on the hair styling." I was suddenly quite thankful for my chance similarity to Valencia.
"And you need some work on your attitude," I muttered.
"Cutesy voice down, too. Just not quite the accent." Despite the fact that it was all a facade, I truly felt a desire to put that deer in place. Probably, I was disgusted that there were so many deer so quickly willing to serve the changelings. I managed to do nothing but grunt as I trotted into the research facility.
"How can we destroy it from here?" I asked in a whisper, following Valencia across the twisting complex. The fifth story was filled with cubicles, each with typewriters and calculating machines. The inhabitants were thankfully all at work, and I realized that unlike the soldiers, who I estimated about two thirds were changelings, these scientists were almost exclusively deer.
"There are computer backups of all the schematics," stated Valencia, "If this place goes on alert, they will take those backups and run."
"Computer?" I said, bewildered, "Aren't those the punch card-using number crunchers?"
"Not quite just that anymore, the changelings have developed magnetic tapes that can store data orders of magnitude more efficiently- actually, I have developed it. These computers are what they keep me around for. Just recently, they brought me here to devise the internal systems that the guided missiles use as, well, their guide."
That kept me quiet as we made our way to the stairwell. I was also honestly growing rather nervous at the odd lack of guards. Once we had gone down two flights, we found ourselves inside the computer room.
I had thought the calculating machines from earlier were impressive. This room was filled with towering wooden cases. Behind glass panels, the insides were filled with racks of metal-capped glass tubes, glowing in sequences I could only assume were the calculations they seemed to make each second.
The two operators were both changelings, no disguise as they passed cards through the different systems. One paused as we entered, and I thought for sure I was discovered. The changeling who noticed us trotted over to Valencia, asking something in Olenian. After a few seconds, the changeling grabbed a pistol that had been out of my view, and shot the other scientist, sending out a sharp ping through its suppressor.
"So this is our insider?" I remarked, "That makes things convenient-" To match the convenience, an inconvenience balanced out my luck as a new sharp sound invaded my ears. Alarms had started in the facility. "Great work, shooting someone right in the middle of the secure facility, it's like you have a teenager's understanding of what a suppressor does!"
"Nein," responded the changeling defector, "Far too quick. You stick out!"
"The only one who saw me thought I was just shapeshifted!" I defended.
"Maybe for a few moments, but you got no gun, no ID, no fancy soldier hat!"
"Wow, you don't know what those are called either?"
"Ooh! I do, I do!" announced Valencia, "Those are boinas!"
"That's great, Valedora," I lied, "but we need to do whatever it is you expect will destroy the research, then get the hell out of here. My radio team is probably wondering what the hell is keeping me occupied."
A crackling in my ear made me shudder. "Not quite," announced Aquila, "Your transceiver is an always-active- at least on your side- duplex system. The PTT button's actual function is to cause a quick ring to catch our attention. We didn't want to tell you this because research showed knowing this increased the average agent nervousness by twelve percent. However, I thought it best to inform you that this is your last chance to follow the mission as planned before your insubordination is recorded."
"Your commanding officer was willing to ignore your lapse of judgment, yet you continued on this path?" asks Major Finch, once again already knowing the answer.
"The Changeling Hegemony already had plans to attack!" I proclaimed, "There was no way this advantage they had could be stopped if I didn't act then."
"You were acting on unproven intelligence," shouts Major Finch, "No, let me put that in legal terms. You were acting on hearsay."
"You're breaking up, Aquila," I stated.
Sky Eye couldn't even finish calling "Bullshit-" before I tore off the earpiece, and smashed the radio underhoof. I decided to pick up the cracked radio in my mouth, and tossed it at one of the cabinets, shattering glass cases and tubes.
Valencia looked at me, unimpressed, before revealing, "We need to focus on the tapes." To give an example, she took a spool of this black, filmy tape, and bit into it, tearing pieces and leaving creases and bitemarks. I had stopped paying attention to our changeling ally, but suddenly they nudged me from the side, handing me a revolver and its holster that I assumed was from the other, dead changeling.
"They've been making these guided missiles, no?" I asked. Valencia only paused to nod before tearing into another tape. "So there would be at least one here. Can't we aim it at the building."
"Ohh, quick thinking, huh?" grunted the changeling. Despite the thick accent, I could tell they were being sarcastic, and their next remark only proved it: "We're days ahead of you."
"Well that's not fair," I said, "I just got here."
"Well, it's time we just got out," announced Valencia. She had noticed a spark from the computer I destroyed, and had brought a piece of tape up to it. In a second, the tape was alight, and she tossed it into a pile of spooled up tapes. "We've already spent two minutes here, we can't press our luck any more. I just hope they can't put out the fire in time."
We dashed away from the fire, back into the stairwell. Below us, a deer soldier looked up, and before he could say anything, I gripped the revolver in my mouth, clenching a tooth against the trigger. The lack of a suppressor, or a mouth guard, or really any accessory, made it hurt as hell to fire the gun. Of course, the deer didn't fare any better, as he collapsed instantly after the shot pierced through his throat. My allies went ahead of me as I recovered from the shot. It wasn't that I was untrained for this situation, but the proper way to use a firearm with no suppressor, ear protection, eye protection, mouth protection, or hoof magnet can be summarized in one word: don't.
The squad that had been advancing up the stairs was only three soldiers, and our insider changeling- I ought to give them a name, it's becoming tedious to repeat all that, I mean, I guess at the end I heard their name, if you don't mind me skipping around, it was Thoraxio; honestly shocking their parents (do changelings even have parents?) were allowed to pick that name, given the obvious homage to an enemy of the state. Anyhow, Thoraxio had already shot the other two. We trampled down the stairs, but I stopped to steal the rifle from the deer I killed. Unlike the soldiers outside the hangar, this one had been equipped with an up-to-date submachine gun. On the deer's hoof was a magnet, one that would make firing much easier, except it was for a deer, a cloven hoofed animal. Thankfully, one that would fit a pony like me happened to be on the next soldier, a changeling, and I quickly put it on.
We had no business downstairs, though. The missiles would be in the hangar, so once we had taken our spoils, we turned back up the stairs. There was no resistance as we made our way back to the fifth floor, but when we left the stairwell, half a dozen soldiers stood at attention, expecting us to try to get back to the hangar. We dove down, barely reaching the cover of a cubicle as two of the soldiers opened fire.
"Flank them!" shouted one of the soldiers, assumingly the leader of the squad. To my right, a changeling tried to lean around the set of cubicles. They were carrying a bolt action rifle, and didn't have a chance to aim before my hoof magnet pulled the trigger of my own weapon. A barrage of bullets rained towards the changeling, and one struck the soldier's hoof, spraying the bug's green blood against the floor. They quickly returned, swearing, to the cover behind the cubicle, but I noticed a gaping hole in the wall. Their cover was nothing to the power of supersonic lead. I aimed, and fired another barrage. No sound came from them other than a slump against the ground.
"I got one!" I shouted.
Two shots, then Thoraxio called, "I just got two myself!" That left only two more soldiers. I quietly turned along the path the bug I killed came from. Suddenly, from behind, I heard a shout. I spun back, and a deer had Valencia at gunpoint.
"One move and she's blasted to Tartarus!" shouted the deer.
"That's not me!" shouted Valencia's voice from somewhere else in the room.
Of course. The oldest trick in the changeling book. I remember pleading to myself that there was an obvious hint. I remember pleading to Celestia. Finally, I saw it. Peeking out of the nearby cubicle, a boina. The "captive" had hastily tossed away her uniform. I took a single step closer to the deer and "Valencia."
"H-hey! Stop that or I'll shoot this damn mare!" The deer's threat was a clear farce. I aimed my gun, and the deer pushed their captive aside, proving my theory even further as they aimed their own gun. Their action proved to be for naught, as I unleashed my weapon, tearing into both the deer and the fake Valencia, splashing red and green mixes across the wall.
My SMG clicked, out of ammo, and I let my weapon drop, hanging from my neck. I approached the dead deer, taking its magazine for myself as I reloaded my gun. I regrouped with Thoraxio and Valencia right by the skyway door. Thoraxio was peeking through the thin window, checking for hostiles. It was clear, and we dashed through to the hangar.
I hadn't gotten a chance to look inside the hangar itself earlier. Most everything was covered in tarps, but there was one notable exception. Standing in the center of the hangar was a plane, but something was odd about this one. There was no propeller. In place of a propeller were two great tubes beside the fuselage. Inside these tubes were turbines, but there was no way they alone could push enough air to move the plane. Despite this, the plane was exactly what Thoraxio and Valencia ran towards, and I had no choice but to follow suit.
They had already cantered onto the plane's ramp when a line of bullets cut between me and them. A changeling soldier hovered above us, making themself a smaller target as they aimed a light machine gun at us. Thoraxio fired a couple of rounds at them, but to no avail. I didn't have the finesse to make suppressing fire for myself, but a second volley of bullets proved I couldn't wait for an opportunity. I fired a handful of shots, but the moment I stopped to move, the soldier was on me. If I flew myself, it would devolve into a chasing game, neither me nor my enemy able to land a hit from a distance. Finally, I decided to tear my gun away from me, and toss it to Thoraxio.
The enemy changeling immediately fired around the gun, but I took to the sky after them. I still had my revolver from earlier, and with my hoof magnet, I could probably attack rapid-fire. I only had five shots left, though. The changeling looped in the air to avoid me, and I used one of my rounds as they tried to fire their LMG at me. The revolver round struck their gun, bouncing off into one of the many tarp-covered objects.
"Scheiße!" shouted Thoraxio, "You'll blast us all to pieces if this doesn't end soon!" The enemy soldier seemed to smirk at that, but that smirk didn't last as Thoraxio had finally got to my SMG, and fired a volley that struck straight through the changeling. The instant I saw that bug's blood, I dove back down to the plane, which was starting to whir to life. I landed inside the cabin, and the ramp rose while we picked up speed. I glanced curiously through the window, to the cylinders which were now spewing out flames.
Thoraxio had stopped the ramp just before it was fully closed, and once we were halfway out the hangar doors, he lined up his gun towards one of the many missiles, and fired until the inevitable cascade of explosions.
"You may stop there, Captain," announces General Aurora, "We already have reports of how you were recovered."
"Your Honor," calls my attorney, unicorn First Lieutenant Mellow Winds, "It is clear that Captain Cirro was presented with a clear and present danger to the safety of Equestrian subjects, and it would have been selfish for her to act in any other way."
Aurora nods, silent. The jury members murmur, and after a long, still minute, an aide passes a note to the judge. Finally, she strikes her gavel. "Indeed, just a few days after this event, other intelligence agents found evidence of Changeling war goals against Equestria. However, this incident has already been publicly called out by multiple foreign powers. It is with great sadness that I must declare Captain Cirro of the Equestrian Army Covert Operations Division guilty of treason. She has since been summarily executed. Soldiers!"
This is it. I am to die, but now it's to appease public opinion. Hell, not even Equestrian opinion, probably to get Stalliongrad to be willing to aid us.
"Ready!"
Wait, I've been to courts martial before, the defendant isn't executed on the spot like this.
"Aim!"
Did the judge say that I was executed, as in the past tense?
"Fire!"
The four ponies which aim their rifles at me all pull their triggers at once. Four shrieks emit from their rifles, but no projectiles come out.
"We then discovered that a changeling imposter lay dead before us. The real Captain Cirro had died on February 16, and will soon be given an honorable army funeral. Major, who the hell is standing before me?" General Aurora looks towards the prosecutor, and I realize this was long planned.
"I believe you are looking at Strato Altus," claims Finch.
"A bit cheesy," Aurora notes. I admit, however,
"I rather like it."
General Aurora laughs, then stamps her gavel one last time, announcing, "Well then, you are dismissed, Major Altus."
I salute Aurora, bringing my hoof against my forehead. "Thank you, General."
