Para bellum

The Lancet

Like many Equestrian small towns, Foalton's city limits were very much organic to their surroundings — there was no clear line where the town ended and the forest began.  Shining Armor for one was thankful for that.  It made infiltration significantly easier.  Skirting griffon patrols as they advanced, the squad closed quickly on the town center.  Armor and the team pressed themselves against the walls of a darkened house, staying in the shadows and out of sight.

"Target building is across the square," the colonel whispered.  "We'll skirt around the outside and slip into the cellar with the panic room."

"Looks like there are patrols running throughout the square." Fletcher pointed his hoof at the silhouettes of four griffons just beyond the rearing alicorn statue at the heart of the square.  "This is the densest part of them.  Are you sure we can get through?"

"With noise and movement discipline."

The team slinked along the streets, darting from house to house, listening for the tell-tale clatter of talons on cobblestone and low chatter of gruff griffons that echoed between dwellings.  Patrols were indeed denser near the square, each four-griffon fire team ambling along in the rain exchanging nods with those they passed.  Sticking to the unpaved portions of the terrain, Tacitus wove their way through the residences, making nary a sound save the dull thuds of hoof falls on dirt and grass.

The last leg of the journey was a wide crossing.  A two-way street cut east from the square, bisecting the town and offering scant cover for the infiltrating operators.  Scanning from west to east, Armor noted the direction and distance of ARM patrols.  One squad heading east.  One squad just crossing their path, headed west.  The rest of the road appeared clear.

"By twos," Armor whispered, motioning with his hoof.  "Bones, Acclaim, you're up.  Then Corona and Fletcher."

Two by two, Tacitus darted across.  The constant patter of rainfall on cobbles softened the sounds of their movements.  Bones and Acclaim.  Corona and Fletcher.  The pairs slipped their way across the thoroughfare in sequence, Corona and Fletcher following after they'd reached the far side.  Armor did one last check of the perimeter.  No griffons.  He'd have to hurry, as the patrols would be on their way back any minute now.

Shining Armor bounded from his hiding place, slipping behind a tree planted in the median, looking left, looking right, and then leaping forward yet again.  His hooves touched cobbles as he crossed the second lane, his final leaps placing him in the grass on the far side at last.  Armor breathed a sigh of relief, trotting over to the cellar entrance of the building ahead of him.

"Hey, you!  What are you doing out here?"

Armor froze.  The voice was most certainly not pony, coming out as half screech and half barked order.  The colonel whipped around.  He'd been caught!  If he didn't finish this fast, the entire village's compliment of Aquellian marines would descend upon them in short order.  Armor dashed through his thoughts, grasping the spell for mage armor and preparing to cast it.  If they wanted a fight, Armor was going to take the squad down quickly, hopefully without them being able to raise the alarm.

"Please don't hurt him, he means well!" A mare's voice rang out.

Armor almost blurted a response, but caught his tongue just as Corona arrived.

"Look, please don't mind my husband.  He's just afraid the storm will turn into a tornado or something," Corona blathered on, her hooves nervously stamping the ground as she played up her hysterics.  "He wanted to make a run for the root cellar and I told him it would be okay but then the rain started to pick up and the wind started to blow and —"

It was then that Armor noticed her horn was glowing a faint violet.  Armor's eyes darted across the griffon fire team.  The leader of the group was visibly steamed.  Behind him, a squad member stifled a laugh with a claw while his partner rolled his eyes.  The final griffon merely looked on with a smirk.  Corona's ruse was working.

"About time you came to your senses," Armor growled in response, "This storm's a brewin'!  We need to get down in the cellar!"

"Can it!" the griffon marine snarled.  "I don't care where you go as long as you stay there!  Curfew means curfew!"

"I'm sorry, sir, I just — "

"Just shut up and get back inside!" the marine groaned, obviously exasperated.  "Damn ponies.  Always in hysterics..."

Armor quickly backpedaled into the storm cellar, catching one last glare from the griffon sergeant before the squad turned and tromped away.  The squawking laughter of the griffons could he heard as he descended.  Armor shut the doors and turned to face his team.

The cellar was an ordinary chamber dug out of the dirt and lined with  clay.  The walls were covered in shelving, each shelf bearing the preserved fruits of the summer harvest and sundry nonperishable foodstuffs.  A few storage crates loaded with dried corn sat in a corner.  One wall over sat a lone tool chest, covered with a fine layer of rust and smelling of old metal and moldy canvas.

As Shining Armor descended into the lit chamber, it finally became apparent how Corona had decieved the griffons.  In place of his plate carrier was a farmer's yoke and in place of Corona's flak jacket was a housewife's apron.  A flick of the operator's horn and the illusion was dispelled, returning their kit to its original appearance.

"That was closer than I would have liked to cut it, colonel," Corona said flatly.

"What was that they always said?" Armor replied sheepishly.  "'No plan ever survives first contact with the enemy?'"

It was enough to garner a chuckle from Bones and Acclaim and a smirk from Corona.  Fletcher, however, remained unmoved.  The marksman merely glared at the colonel before turning back to the task at hand, casting his bow and nocking an arrow, keeping it pointed towards the exit.  Shining Armor sniffed at the nonverbal slight.

The colonel brushed past Fletcher and stepped up to the tool chest.  Though it appeared old, the chest was not covered by the fine layer of dust that veiled the other appointments of the cellar.  Rapping on the surface of the chest produced loud thunks that reverberated throughout the cellar and seemingly into the wall itself.  Armor was sure this was the place.

"Icepick," he enunciated, hoping his challenge would make it through the hidden door, wherever it was.  The colonel lifted his ear, straining to listen for the slightest sound.

Finally, a muffled response drifted back.  "Phoenix."

The colonel stepped back from the tool chest as metallic ticking and clacking from springs unwinding and gears meshing suddenly enveloped the cellar.  Before his eyes, the wall began moving.  The segment of wall and floor with the tool chest upon it creaked and groaned as it was spun perpendicular to the cellar wall, revealing a long corridor that led deeper into the earth.  Footsteps echoed down the hallway, a large number of them.

Shining Armor lit his horn, the hologlyphs on his armor coming to life as he activated the mage armor spell.  With Fletcher watching the cellar entrance, the rest of Tacitus gathered around the safe room entrance, spell and hoof and wing ready in case something went horribly wrong.  Finally, the footsteps drew near.  Armor squinted into the deep shadow of the unlit corridor, slowly stepping aside as the first form stepped out of the darkness.

It was a unicorn stallion, a bit on the shorter side in stature.  His coat was jet black, much like a raven's plumage, highlighted by white feathered fetlocks and short-trimmed white mane and tail.  The stallion had an oddly serpentine profile, his physique being very sleek, even gaunt in a few places.  Behind him followed eight others bearing labcoats and laden with pack saddles loaded with notes and materials.

"Lieutenant Colonel Shining Armor, Royal Equestrian Army," Armor began.  "I'm here to get you out."

"Thank you, colonel," the first unicorn replied.  "Doctor Argent Rook, Foalton Clinic and head of this little science project.  Thank the gods it was the REA that answered our hail and not the griffons."

"We're also glad we got here first, doctor.  But the longer we stay here, the more difficult it will be to give the griffons the slip.  Follow us, stay quiet, and do exactly as we say and we'll be in Canterlot before you know it."

"I understand."  Rook turned to his fellow scientists and doctors.  "This stallion will keep you alive.  Do exactly as he says."

"Let's move," Armor said, taking the lead.  "Corona.  Radio the ship."

"Artorius control, this is Tacitus.  We have the package and are moving to exfil point, ETA one-five majesties."

As Corona got on the radio, the colonel wordlessly brushed past Fletcher again, opening the cellar doors with his magic before taking a quick peek around for griffons.  The coast was clear.  Sticking to the shadows, Armor waved a hoof in the "move out" gesture.  Tacitus fanned out, setting up in the shadows to overwatch the miniature exodus.  Fletcher's  bow remained silently drawn.  Armor's mage armor spell dimly lit the shadows with its aetheric glow.  The ironclad Bones silently looked on while Acclaim perched herself on a rooftop lookout post.

One by one, the scientists clambered out of the cellar, filing along as Shining Armor directed.  The small herd wound its way through the residences, slipping griffon patrols when they encountered them.  Fingers of forest provided ample cover as the ponies advanced northward.  Finally, the herd found itself outside Foalton's limits, fast approaching a glade in the woods.

"Artorius, this is Tacitus with SITREP.  How copy, over?"  Corona spoke into her headset as they made their way through the woods.

The sky was gradually beginning to lighten despite the constant drizzle, the dull grey giving way to muted blues and browns and finally shades of orange as the early morning sun filtered through the stormclouds.

"Tacitus, this is Artorius," crackled the reply of the radiomare.  "Send traffic."

"Package is secure at the LZ.  Tally thirteen for extraction."

"Roger that, Tacitus.  Myrmidon team is en route with extraction vessel.  ETA oh-five majesties."

"We copy, awaiting extraction.  Tacitus, out."  Corona turned to Armor.  "Extraction team is on the way.  We just have to sit tight and wait for them to get here."

"I don't suppose we can break out the cigars just yet?" Bones joked, eliciting a few nervous chuckles from the otherwise quiet scientists.

"Save 'em, Bones," Armor said, patting Bones' plate carrier.  "Quaggan cigars are expensive and there's still a lot more war to fight before we're done."

It was that easy.  They could get on that runabout, ride off into the sunrise, and the mission would be complete.  But Shining Armor knew he couldn't.  Again, General Ironwing's words echoed in his head.  Regardless of the outcome, we can’t afford to let the war consume us.

The runabout arrived in short order, the pegasi of Myrmidon flight ushering in large enough accomodations to bring the lot of them back to the Artorius at once.  Armor caught Rook's eye, gesturing with a hoof to board the ship immediately.  While the scientists mounted up, the colonel continued his radiotelephone conversation.

"Get me the captain," Armor ordered.

"This is Artorius Actual."  Sturmovik's characteristic accent came over the airwaves after a brief pause.  "What do you require, colonel?"

"Sturmovik, are your gun crews ready for action?"

"They can be ready at a moment's notice on my command.  What is happening, colonel?  Is the LZ under attack?"

"Negative, captain.  But we're going to need additional fire support for this plan.  In the mean time, prepare to recieve the package.  Tacitus is remaining behind."

"WHAT?" Corona blurted, having been privy to Armor's conversation.

"We're going back to clear Foalton."  Armor's pronouncement snappy and to the point.

"You can't be serious, Armor," Fletcher's voice dropped to a low whisper so as not to alarm the scientists.  "Even if we have Myrmidon and Berkut with us, the griffons have us outnumbered two to one.  Going back in is suicide!"

"Leaving Foalton to burn is instant death for everypony in the town!"

"So is jeopardizing a mission you've already completed!"

"Get ready to go back in.  As soon as that ship dusts off, we're leaving."

"You're not listening to me!" Fletcher growled emphatically.  "What about the mission, Armor?"

"The mission is important.  But we're ponies, Fletcher.  Ponies first, soldiers second.  We save Foalton."

"You want to buck up this entire mission because of some senti — "

"Fletcher!" Armor snapped, cutting him off.  Armor jabbed Fletcher in the flak jacket with a hoof, glaring back at him with a look ordinarily reserved for ornery cadets.  "I'm not here to argue or foalsit!  Now fall back in line!  NOW!"

"Yes, sir," Fletcher said through his teeth.

Armor turned his attention back to the radio.  "Artorius, relay for Berkut team.  Redirect the storm to heading zero-one-two and escalate intensity.  I need some good old-fashioned thunder and lightning!"

"Copy that, will relay.  Artorius, out."

As the last of the science team boarded the ship, Shining Armor hung up the radiotelephone and waved off Myrmidon flight.  The runabout's pilot nodded, punching the throttle and lifting off in a whirlwind of mist.  The fliers of Myrmidon took off after their charge, ascending from the glade until they finally disappeared into the clouds.  Armor rallied his team and broke into a hard trot back to Foalton.

"If we don't drive the griffons out, everypony in Foalton is lost.  We'll strike the command post at city hall first," Armor briefed as they ran.  "We're the lancet.  We sever the main artery, the rest of the offensive dies."

"Why city hall?" Bones asked as they ran.

"I saw an Aquellian flag and some radio antennas on our way out of Foalton.  That's got to be their CP."

"So does this mean we finally get to kick some griffon flank?"  Shining Armor almost laughed out loud at the enthusiastic quip from Acclaim.  It was a much-needed bit of levity in otherwise grave circumstances.

"Hooah," he managed in response.

North of Foalton were a series of rolling hills, one in particular providing a perfect location from which to observe.  As the team arrived, the first lightning bolt from Berkut's storm flashed across the sky.  Forked discharges snaking their way across the sky bathed the earth in stroboscopic light.  Following quickly behind, an ear-splitting thunderclap shook the entirety of the town.

The operators stopped on the windward side of the hill, dropping to their bellies and crawling up the last few meters to peek over the crest.  The rain and wind had picked up significantly, with low gusts blowing rain in Armor's face and soaking him to the bone.  Crawling up next to Corona, Armor picked up the radiotelephone set.

"Artorius, this is Tacitus Actual.  Get me Berkut and Myrmidon."

"Stand by Tacitus.  Patching you through."

"Tacitus, this is Berkut lead," a bright female voice replied.  Berkut lead was nearly drowned out by the sound of thunder from a nearby lightning bolt, but she seemed in good spirits and in control of the situation.  "Storm is escalated just as you asked."

"Tacitus, this is Myrmidon lead," the other flight leader cut in.  "Package is secure on board the ship.  Standing by for orders."

"Copy that, Berkut.  Keep up the good work.  Myrmidon, I have additional tasking for you.  Approach low from the east and land at TRP one-niner.  Continue into the village on foot and take out any griffon patrols you encounter.  Rendezvous at city hall in thirty majesties.  Keep it quiet if you can."

"Understood Tacitus, Myrmidon proceeding to waypoint.  Out."

Hanging up the set, Armor waved his hoof forward.  "Tacitus, move out!"

************

The rains came down hard, battering Foalton with stinging droplets and freezing wind.  Glistening rivulets flowed between cobbles and churning pools of frigid liquid.  Mists from the downpour formed a lingering miasma that sucked the color from the world, leaving only washed-out greyscale punctuated by intermittent flashes of jagged lightning.

"That storm certainly kicked up fast."  The griffon marine sniffed.  Streams of rainwater dribbled off the brim of his combat helmet, splashing to the ground in silver rivulets

"S'matter?  You afraid of a little thunder and lightning?" His partner chuckled, punching him playfully on the shoulder.

"No.  I just got a bad feeling about this.  Those pegasi can do all sorts of crazy stuff with the weather.  What's to say they're not doing this?"

"Relax.  Intel says there's no activity in this area.  All we gotta do is stand guard over some ponies too scared to come out of their houses until PSYOPS gets here to process them."

"I know.  But I just can't shake this feeling."

"You worry too much.  Have a smoke.  It'll calm your nerves."  The marine turned to his partner, cigarette in claw, to find that he was alone.  "Oy, you could have told me you were going off for a — "

The griffon stopped cold as he saw the crumpled form of his comrade behind him.  The lone griffon dashed to the body, kneeling down and extending a claw to his neck to check the other marine's pulse.  His talon caught on something — something cold, hard, and unnatural.  The next flash of lightning illuminated the shaft of a single arrow with violet fletching.  His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat.  His comrade was dead.  The marine went to cry out, to call for backup, but suddenly found himself short of breath.  Looking down again, he found the same violet fletching staring back at him.  The marine followed the shaft from fletching to arrowhead — an arrowhead that was now buried in his chest.

As the corporal slumped over, a loud clang from metal contacting metal sounded from behind.  The limp silhouette of a griffon marine flew across the east road, followed by the sickening crunch of flesh and bone on cobbles.  Just feet away from that, lightning flashed curiously close to ground level, the clap of ensuing thunder drowning out the cries of the fourth and final griffon meeting his demise.

Silently, the five fleeting phantoms went about their grim work, quietly and methodically extinguishing griffon marines like hoof falls on errant embers.  The shadows slipped between buildings and slinked through yards and alleys, leaping fences and flowing around shrubbery, finally arriving at Foalton City hall's assembly building.  A flash of lightning illuminated the phantom forms, casting the operators of Tacitus in sharp relief against the rough-cut stone walls.

"Stack up," came the terse order.

On cue, Stone Bones stepped across the doorway, taking up post opposite Shining Armor.  One after another, the others slid up against the wall, stacking up in a single file line behind the colonel.  A peculiar high-pitched keening could be heard as the unicorns of the squad charged spells.  For a moment, all was still.

"Breach."

In a split second, the stillness was shattered.  The assembly hall doors exploded in a spray of splinters, pulverized by a mighty kick from Sergeant Stone Bones.  Shards of condensed aether swept into the hall, fulminating in a flash brighter than the sun and a roar louder than a thunderclap.  In perfect synchronicity, Tacitus surged to its targets like forked lightning.

Shining Armor blew past the wooden fragments suspended in space, leaping across the threshold at his first target.  The griffon marine clawed at his blinded eyes, blood dribbling from shattered eardrums as he fumbled for his sidearm.  Armor willed his aetheric hoplon into existence, swiftly sweeping the disc forward in mid-leap.  As Armor's hooves touched the ground, the edge of the shield connected with the griffon's forehead, snapping his neck backwards with a crack.  The marine's revolver flew from his claw, clattering loudly as it struck the floor next to its fallen owner.

A yellow streak shot past Shining Armor and slammed into another marine with bone-jarring force.  The griffon's rifle spun wildly away as its owner crashed to the ground.  Acclaim quickly mounted him, pinning him to the floor before he could draw his revolver.  A crackling orb of electricity coalesced at the tip of her hoof as she called upon pegasus storm magic.  With a feral hiss, Acclaim jammed the globe of ball lightning right into the griffon's throat, finishing him in a blaze of voltaic fury.

Gunshots from above redirected Shining Armor's attention.  Two griffons appeared from behind the balustrade on the upper level, revolver carbines in claw.  Snarling in adrenaline-fueled ferocity, Armor energized the aether around him, conjuring a glowing violet sphere around himself that stopped the bullets cold.  Their cylinders empty, both marines discarded their longarms and drew their sidearms and sword bayonets.  With a mighty screech, the raptorian gunmen dove upon Shining Armor.

A radiant beam of charged aether intercepted one of the griffons as he dove, sending him spiralling into the ground with a smoking wound on his chest.  Hissing in anger, the griffon tucked, rolled, and brought his pistol to bear on his assailant.  A second beam blew the gun out of his hands, eliciting a shriek of shock and pain.  In an instant, Corona was upon him, kicking, jabbing, and finally sweeping his hind legs out from under him.  With another brilliant flash of luminous magic, the griffon was no more.

The colonel dispelled his barrier, wheeling right to greet the remaining attacker with a swing of his hoplon.  Sparks flew as magic clashed against steel.  The griffon worked his sword bayonet with practiced precision, probing for a weakness in Armor's technique while keeping him off-balance with the threat of the pistol in his off-hand.  Finally, the griffon lunged, locking weapons with his adversary.

Shining Armor pushed back against his equally strong foe.  Seeing that he was getting nowhere in a shoving match, the griffon placed the barrel of his gun right against the surface of the hoplon and pulled the trigger.  The direct impact of the round at point blank range overloaded the shield, collapsing it in an instant.  Superheated shrapnel from the shattered bullet scored Armor's neck and shoulder and overhwelmed his nostrils with the acrid smell of burned propellant and metal vapor.  Armor stumbled backwards in a rush of vertigo.

The griffon cocked the hammer back and raised his weapon, intent on finishing the job.  But before he could squeeze the trigger, the marine seized.  A single rivulet of blood dribbled down down his neck from a subtle incision, staining his chest feathers bright crimson.  The griffon teetered on his hind legs for a moment before landing face-down on the floor, the violet-fletched shaft of a single arrow protruding from the back of his neck.  Shining Armor glanced past the fallen griffon and met the eyes of Fletcher.  The former captain stared back impassively before wheeling away to engage another target.

The clangs of metal on metal caught Armor's ear.  Near the rear of the hall, Stone Bones dueled his opponent.  The griffon's agility did him little good.  Bones halted every bayonet thrust and deflected every close-range shot with careful positioning and sweeps of his shield.  A final lunge brought him into position and a sharp blow to the griffon's rifle sent it skittering across the floor.  With one final windup, Bones threw the entire weight of his massive physique into an all-out attack.  The force of the charge sent the griffon careening into the rear wall where he finally came to rest — unmoving.

"Clear!"  Stone Bones shouted.

Bones' speech hung in the air, bouyed by the miasma of hot metal, gunsmoke, and ozone lingering in the aftermath of the fight.  Debris covered the floor from smashed furniture, carved up flooring, and pulverized stone.  Victims of spell, shot, and brute force littered the ground.  After the horrible din of battle, there was finally silence.

Shining Armor allowed himself a few scant breaths.  With the haze of adrenaline clearing, he finally felt the ache of his wounds.  Had the griffon struck a few inches to his left, he would have been dead.  Armor's neck throbbed from the gunshot, the score marks slowly scabbing over blood-matted fur.  His shoulder chafed uncomfortably from the sudden blast of heat and gun flash.  Flesh wounds.  There would be time to clean up later.

"Acclaim, check the upper deck!" he barked, pointing a hoof to the balcony.  "Bones, watch the door!  Fletcher, search these guys for intel.  Corona, radio!"

As the other operators went about their tasks, Shining Armor picked up the wireless set.  "All Artorius units, this is Tacitus Actual.  City Hall has been secured.  We'll dig in and set up an observation post here.  Meanwhile, I want Myrmidon and Berkut to clear the town.  Artorius, I need you on standby to extract us once we've cleaned up."

"Berkut acknowledges."

"Roger.  Myrmidon wilco."

"Artorius understands."

Before Armor could continue, a loud boom outside rattled the windows of city hall, resonating deeply in his chest.  The colonel would have brushed it off as thunder from Berkut's storm, but something didn't seem right.  Another one sounded quickly after, then another.  They were too regular, too rapid, and none of them were preceded by flashes of lightning.

"What the hay was that?" Stone Bones' ears perked up at the sound, confirming the colonel's grave suspicions.  A strange keening at the edge of perception grew into a howling shriek, spurring Armor to action.

"Everypony DOWN!" he shouted, throwing up his barriers to cover the team.

A massive plume of dust and smoke shot into the sky as the first shell made landfall within spitting distance of City Hall.  The store that stood in that space was obliterated, its fittings and wares blasted away by the sheer force of the bursting charge.  The windowpanes in city hall shattered, peppering the barrier with razor-edged shards of glass.  More explosions quickly followed, leveling storefronts and gouging monstrous craters in the cobbled grounds of the city square.

"Tacitus, this is Berkut lead!"  The radiotelephone crackled to life.  "Be advised, you have an Aquellian frigate making for the city.  Enemy guns are hot and we are taking fire!"

"Damn," Acclaim spat.  "To think we had this in the saddlebag..."

"Hang in there, Berkut!" Armor shouted into the receiver, doing his best to cut through both the maelstrom outside and the ringing in his ears from the near miss.  "Get me a target reference point and a heading for that ship and then get out of there!"

"West of city hall, headed right for you!  Bearing zero-seven-one degrees, 500 meters and closing fast!"  The shriek of shells and the rattle of gunfire flying past the flier's microphone made Armor wince.  "Sorry, sir!  Airspace is too hot!  Berkut is plugging out!"

As the dust from the first barrage began to settle, Armor ventured a glance out the nearest window.  In the distance, framed by lightning and backlit by the ghostly orange glow of tracer fire, was the unmistakable outline of an Aquellian frigate.  Its beak-like prow cast menacing shadows on the ground below as its cannons continued to rain fire upon the square.

"Colonel, that ship is going to tear this place apart once it ranges us!  We need to back off and complete the exfiltration!"

"Hold your positions!  We're finishing this NOW!" Shining Armor countered Fletcher's assessment.  The colonel brought the radio back to his lips.  "Artorius, this is Tacitus.  We are dug in at city hall, TRP zero-four.  ARM forces are making a determined counterattack against our position!  Requesting immediate suppression, danger close, bearing two-seven-one, range 400 meters.  Target, Aquellian frigate in the open west of the city!"

"Artorius confirms immediate suppression, danger close.  Shot, over."

Shining Armor heard a dull roar from the northeast as the Artorius' guns returned fire.  The familiar wail of gun-howitzer rounds streaking overhead filled his ears as the Equestrian rounds splashed down just shy of their target.  As if startled by the barrage, the Aquellian ship rolled to port and nosed up slightly.  But the near miss did little to halt the ship's advance.  Even as shells continued to fall around it, the frigate righted itself and steamed onward, returning fire as it moved.

"Rounds fell short, Artorius!  We need — "

The window before Armor disintegrated in a spray of pulverized brick and wood.  His barrier spell barely deployed in time, stopping the shrapnel but doing nothing for the concussion of the blast.  Armor's vision blurred and stabbing pains filled his head.  His hooves left the floor.  For a moment, he was flying.  The colonel struck the floor hard, the impact leaving him gasping for breath.  His barriers flickered and finally faded as he greyed out.

Shining Armor barely perceived the feeling of hooves slapping his cheeks.  Indistinct blobs of color floated in his field of vision and barely audible speech flickered through his consciousness.  Willing himself to stay awake, the colonel pawed helplessly at the radio set, unable to pick it up with his magic or manipulate it with his hooves.  Any efforts at communication only came out as unintelligible mumbling.

Feeling began to return to Shining Armor's body, the first sensations being the uncomfortable grating of his rump and back against the debris on the ground.  His vision slowly began to return, the fuzzy shapes resolving themselves into the faces of Acclaim and Stone Bones as they dragged him back from the now destroyed wall.  Outside, fires burned in the town from where artillery had annihilated dwellings, storefronts, and terrain.

"Armor, can yae hear me?"  Bones was surely shouting in his face, but the ringing in Armor's ears barely allowed him to hear.  "Stay awake, siir, we're getting you out of here!"

"C'mon, colonel!  We need you!" Acclaim's voice echoed in his ears from close by.

Sounding in the distance, Armor could barely pick out Fletcher's voice.  "Actual's been hit!  I say again, Actual has been hit!"

"Corona... radio... ship..." Shining Armor couldn't hear his own words spoken, but he could certainly feel them.  Even thinking about speaking produced sharp stabbing pains in his head, leaving him feeling like somepony had turned his horn around and jammed it back into his skull.

"Corona's fine, siir!  Looks like the barrier soaked up the worst of it!"

"The guns!" Armor snarled through gritted teeth, struggling against the pain.  "Artorius needs coordinates!"

"They're already on it, sir," Acclaim's reply was muffled, her teeth firmly secured around the colonel's plate carrier drag handle.

As if on cue, Corona and Fletcher galloped back to the colonel's position.  Fletcher had wasted no time.  The wireless set floated next to his head in the glow of his magic as he barked orders to the gunline.

"... authorization Delta-Scepter-Omen.  Adjust fire!  Load HE-AA, shift add 100 meters, right two degrees, six rounds danger close, fire for effect!"

"Authorization confirmed," the response crackled over the airwaves.  "HE-AA danger close verified!  Firing for effect!"

Though his view still swam, Armor's vision had cleared enough for him to see the silhouette of the frigate looming just outside Foalton limits.  One after another, brilliant orange fireballs blossomed on the Aquellian ship's hull.  Purple flame boiled out of gaping holes in the frigate's ruptured aethergas reservoirs.  The ship listed heavily to starboard, teetering precarious before nosing down, its props spinning wildly in a vain effort to bring it back to trim.  With a sickening crunch, the doomed ship smashed into the plains west of Foalton, folding in on itself on impact.  A burning heap of twisted metal wreathed in violet flame was all the remained of the once-proud vessel.

"Wooooooooo!" Acclaim dropped Shining Armor as she exulted, leaping up in the air on wing, only to be pulled back down to earth by Stone Bones tugging on her tail.

"Artorius, this is Tacitus," Fletcher said slowly.  "Good effect on target.  Enemy destroyed.  Stand by for further instructions."

"Good... work..." the colonel managed to utter.

Shining Armor was tired.  It had been a very long and very tiring day.  A nap sounded amazing right then.  Armor's mind yawned, though he was certain his body wasn't responding in the same manner.  "Goodnight..."

"Colonel?  Colonel!  Stay awake!  We need you to—"