Inequine Condition

The refugees all but leap backwards as they emerge from the mines, into the bitter cold of the blizzard that had enveloped the whole Empire and showed no signs of stopping. Well, it was bitter cold for them, at least. Shining Armor didn’t even wince.

Ponies don’t shrug off temperatures this cold with barely a wince. As much as he hated that tiny voice in the back of his head, he had to concede that it had a point; barely a few seconds out in the cold, and the crystal ponies were already shivering, huddling up against each other in an attempt to preserve what little warmth their malnourished bodies still had. Yet he barely even felt chilled down. There was no comfort to be had in his unnatural resistance to the cold, though; it's just another reminder of what he’s become.

Now that he was out of the mines, he kept his distance from the survivors, always in sight but almost never within earshot. He knew from experience that it was better this way. He can scout ahead of the group, perform ambushes and reconnaissance that he simply couldn’t with a gaggle of skittish, jumpy crystal ponies following his every step. And the crystal ponies, for their part, don’t have to notice the scars on his face, don’t have to look at his fleshmetal hide, can pretend that the flowing electric-blue fibers that jut from the back of his head and have replaced his tail are just the mane hair of an ordinary pony. Plus, they can whisper amongst themselves about him all they want without hurting his feelings.

"As grear hun klos sektor."

"No aktuvhutee to gregort."

"Hut's too kwuhute."

If only the voices of the invaders were so easy to get away from.

Far as he can tell, the bipedal aliens have some sort of means to communicate with each other over long distances — like the magical “radios” he’d seen in Manehattan, but somehow fueled without any magic — and he’s able to listen in on their broadcasts. Another reminder of his condition… but at least it makes it easy to tell when the invaders’ patrols are close.

One such patrol is right up ahead, approaching the survivors’ position. His horn flashed twice; Danger. Patrol Ahead. The crystal ponies got the signal — one of several he’d explained to the group of survivors — quickly scrambling for cover. They’re civilians, not S.M.I.L.E. agents, but they know how to stay quiet, and he now has plenty of time before the patrol comes close enough to spot them.

Ponies can’t climb walls. The voice returned as he scrambled up a ramp of rubble that was, admittedly, so steep and tall he wouldn’t have been able to scale it if not for the talons jutting from his forehooves. “As if I needed that.” He muttered as he crawled across a crystalline rooftop, taking up position. Now all he needs to do is wait until they pass below… there.

“Jutr onke, hu rhusr hut rudor get ekskhutung around reGUH?!” In the blink of an eye, Shining Armor was on the ground, right behind the squad leader. One of his betaloned forehooves seized its throat, a strangled cry slipping through his one-hoof chokehold as the other hoof crushes its radio with its bare claws. His telekinesis withdrew the heated dagger every one of the invaders seemed to carry, ramming it through the brainstem of his victim with one swift, fluid motion.

“Grat kle...?” “Rarframe!” Guns bristle as the armored soldiers swivel on their two feet, their voices laden with surprise and panic. It’s almost enough to make him feel sorry for them.

Almost.

Once again, he clambered to the top of a building. His horn flashed once, twice, three times. The way is clear. Try not to look at the bodies. The survivors emerged from the nooks and crannies they’d taken shelter in, continuing to trudge their way through the fetlock-deep snow.

Not all of them heeded that last warning he’d given them a few hours ago, when explaining what each pattern of flashes meant. One of the Crystal Ponies who didn’t listen choked loudly, reacting badly to the sight of one of the invaders, cleaved in half at the waist. At this distance, he couldn’t hear it, but he could see the unlucky Crystal Pony struggling not to retch.

Fortunately, The invader’s patrols along the route Shining Armor chose were lighter than average; he managed to route the refugees around the remaining patrols without having to… remove any more. Always a plus; the less mutilated corpses his subjects have to walk past during their journey to the relative safety of the crystal palace, the better.