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                        Para bellum                        
                       -by Jin Shu-                        
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                   1. Prologue: Eclipse                    
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1. Prologue: Eclipse
Eclipse
Prologue
"Si vis pacem, para bellum."
Gilded hooves rang with sharp click-clacks on marbled stone, echoing in the vaulted spaces of the colonnade.  The warm breeze flowing up from the valley rolled up over the gardens, bringing into the colonnade the sweet fragrance of lavender.  Taking a deep breath of morning air, Celestia continued, her mane and tail of many colors streaming out behind her as she walked.  The princess stole a glance across the terrace as the long shadows in the valley below began to disappear with the morning mist.
The tranquility of the Canterlot morning with its warm breeze and soft sunrise belied the tumultuous evening before.  If you desire peace, prepare for war.  The mantra continued to echo in Celestia's mind as she walked.  War, war, war.  The Griffon nationalists clamored for it, the Equestrian populace quailed at it, the media sensationalized it.  Though no shots had yet been fired, tensions ran high and the world seemed fit to explode.  In the midst of it all was Princess Celestia, quiet, collected, calm, reasonable.
While the princess handled business as usual, news reports were flying left and right about the most recent round of joint policy talks.  Every day it seemed that Celestia needed to quash another tabloid rumor or set straight another excited reporter who couldn't be bothered to fact check before sending her notes to the press.  Princess in a huff?  Griffons on the rise?  War on the horizon?  Economic downturn imminent?  The pace was exhausting and the themes were exasperating.
It was complete and utter chaos.  Celestia was still fielding questions about the Razorcalw funeral a month prior, the solemn starting point of the entire political crisis.  The princess recounted her last meeting with the late Aiden Razorclaw, prime minister of Aquellia before his untimely death.  Razorclaw was something of a celebrity on both sides of the border.  A kind soul, whip-smart, and with a firm desire to make peace despite disputes in ages past, Razorclaw was a true advocate of Harmony — regardless of species.
But it was not to last.  A horrible airship crash had taken the lives of Razorclaw and several members of his cabinet, including his vice minister, Ezra Steelfeather.  All species mourned their passing; even Celestia and Luna had been in attendence of the funeral.  With the cabinet decimated, the lines of Aquellian succession quickly shortened.
Celestia had only met Member of Parliament Valerian Titanclaw once prior to the funeral.  Razorclaw's successor was young, ambitious, and brilliant, but strongly nationalist.  But succession was succession, and Equestria did not interfere with other nations' political processes.  Still, Celestia could not say with any amount of honesty she was happy with the sudden paradigm shift in Aquellian politics.  As much as she admired Valerian's zeal, Celestia's gut feeling was one of dis-ease.
The media had made quite a show of the last meeting between them.  To say that the discussion was unproductive would have been an understatement.  While not unfriendly, Valerian's fiery oration and penchant for driving a hard bargain were both immediately apparent.  This was a griff who knew what he wanted and would stop at nothing to get it.  Though her reserve of patience was vast, it was not infinite.  Celestia would have to carefully consider how to deal with him.
The princess sighed as she finally arrived in her boardroom.  The paperwork would be a welcome distraction from the bureaucratic skulldruggery and media maelstrom of the past few weeks.  The princess chuckled as she seated herself on the low cushion before the great mahogany desk.  Had it really come to this?  Had paperwork finally become her solace?  Celestia gently set her folio down at the desk and began unpacking it.  Dossiers for a few Royal Equestrian Army officers up for promotion, bills that needed assessment, an invitation to Fancy Pants' dinner party — all standard fare for a morning's desk work.
"Good morning, your majesty!" A spritely voice chirped.
Celestia looked up and met eyes with the dainty ice-blue unicorn at the door.  "Good morning, Sapphire!" she smiled in response.
"I do hope I'm not too late," Sapphire said, bowing a little bow.  "I've brought your breakfast!"
Sapphire trotted into the boardroom with her horn alight, a little wheeled cart trailing behind her glowing purple in her magic.  The unicorn hummed to herself as she served Celestia, a tea set gracefully dismounting from the top deck of the serving cart and arranging itself in parade formation before the princess.  A salt and pepper shaker rocketed up from the bottom of the cart, settling into a slow orbit around Sapphire's head as she delivered the silver platter to the princess.  With a flick of her horn, Sapphire removed the cover, placing it back on the cart, finally setting the salt and pepper shakers just within reach.
Celestia smiled.  Sometimes it was the simplest things that were the best.  The breakfast was meager, a few pieces of triangular-cut toast and scrambled eggs, a little dish of jelly, and a steaming hot cup of tea with more piping in the kettle.  A single purple crysanthemum garnished the tray from a little vase in its corner.  "This looks marvelous."
"My pleasure, your majesty," Sapphire bowed and spun around, hooking the cart with her magic and beginning to trot away.
"Sapphire?"
The unicorn jumped in shock, but quickly regained her composure, spinning around to face the princess.  "Yes, your majesty?"
"Could you please bring me some cream and sugar?"
The color drained from Sapphire's face.  Celestia fought hard to keep from giggling out loud at the little unicorn's antics.  Was it really so terrifying to be in the presence of royalty?
"I... I'm sorry!  My apologies.  I'd simply forgotten.  I'll fix this right away," Sapphire rattled off, quickly trotting away to fetch her majesty's request.
Celestia put a hoof to her lips, half in amusement and half in embarrassment.  Try as she might, it was difficult to convince some ponies that she was a very down to earth pony.  A million radio addresses and working with Mi Amore Cadenza and her Canterlot Royal Public Relations with a million open houses and a million meet and greets couldn't change the ingrained belief that royalty had to be capricious and intolerant.
The Sun Princess sighed and went back to her paperwork, gingerly nibbling at her breakfast as she browsed.  One cadet Diomedes Ironwing to be commissioned as a lieutenant for the Royal Equestrian Army?  Signed.  Public works project for renovation of the Violet Square Library?  Nixed.  They hadn't changed the proposal one bit from their last meeting with the princess and her advisory board and until they did, she would continue to shoot them down.
A sip of her tea made Celestia scrunch up her face.  Sapphire had most definitely oversteeped this.  There was an odd bitterness about it that lingered on her tongue and refused to wash away with subsequent bites of toast or even a nibble of the chrysanthemum.  Oh well, Sapphire would be coming back soon enough and it wouldn't kill her to ask for another kettle.  A stray bit of toast made Celestia cough, which in turn made her gulp down a bit more of the awful tea.  Celestia put the teacup down and pushed it away.  Twice was enough.  She would not be having any more of this.
Despite her best efforts, however, the princess could not seem to refocus on her task.  Her stomach began churning and that bitter taste in her mouth intensified.  Was the tea really that bad?  Had Sapphire spilled a bit of spoiled milk in the eggs?  Perhaps the jelly was past due?  Whatever it was, she was not feeling well at all.  Celestia picked up the quill again to sign one of the bills, but could not for the life of her remember which it was.
Suddenly, the golden glow of her magic around the quill began to flicker, stuttering for a moment before it ceased altogether.  The inked quill fell from Celestia's grasp, landing point first on the document.  The quill wobbled on its tip for an instant before skidding out from under the feathering, drawing a jagged line across the page as it fell flat.  Celestia looked down in shock.  She hadn't let go.  How did...
Before she could gather her thoughts, her mane fell into her eyes.  As she parted it with her front hooves, the sickening realization dawned on her.  Her mane was not magical and flowing in the aether.  Instead, it was normal hair, lacking in luster and completely, utterly devoid of magic.  This was no mere spoiled food, this was something far more insidious.
Celestia's body went numb, her hooves growing cold and her breath seizing in her throat.  Her chest burned with hellish heat, her head spinning with vertigo.  She wanted to cry out, to scream for help, but no sound broke her lips.  To Celestia, dread was an ancient foe long thought vanquished.  But as she slowly faded, Celestia was wrought with it.
Luna needed her.  Twilight needed her.  Equestria needed her.  What would become of them were she to fall?  In one last act of defiance, Celestia threw every ounce of her will into building a stronghold within her mind; the last bastion of herself in a rapidly blackening world.  The sun fought.  The sun struggled.
The sun set.
************
Humming quietly to herself, Sapphire gently rapped on the boardroom door.
No answer.  The princess was likely absorbed in her work.  Perhaps she should come back later?  The unicorn shook her head.  Nonsense!  Princess Celestia appreciated initiative!  With complete confidence, Sapphire closed her eyes, took a deep breath and nosed the door open, trotting onto the familiar marbled floors with serving cart in tow.  Happily ambling along to the princess' desk, Sapphire levitated the tea set in front of her as she trotted over to Celestia's side.
"Good morning, your majesty!  I do hope I'm not too — " Sapphire stopped in midsentence, her jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water, her throat paralyzed and her lungs choking for breath.
She tried to scream, but her voice caught in her throat.  In shock her magic ceased to function, the suspended teaset clattering to the ground; saucer, teapot, and teacup all shattering into thousands of porcelain shards.  Sapphire backpedaled in panic, her hooves skidding on the marbeled stone, scooting back on her haunches before scrambling to her feet.  The little mare finally screamed as she galloped away hoping upon hope that she could find somepony to help.
So Sapphire fled, leaving only the fallen princess behind.

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                      2. Warfighters                       
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2. Warfighters
Warfighters
Change.  Change was in the air.  The changing of the guard, the changing of the tides, the changing of the reins of state.  The world had changed and Canterlot with it.
The bright gold and purple ceremonial garb of the Royal Equestrian Army had been replaced by cold steel and matte green.  Pegasi and airships patrolled the skies and gun batteries embedded in the mountainside kept their sights elevated and their radios tuned, waiting for the calls for fire that would surely be coming.  Canterlot itself was safe for now.  But off in the distance, plumes of black smoke rose into the sky, marking the locations of downed airships and freshly-razed villages.  The war would be upon them soon enough.
The distant thunder of gunfire faded into the sound of hoofsteps on marbled stone.  Unlike the gentle, spritely steps of Celestia, these hoof falls were measured, martial, and commanding.  Gone were the soft metallic clicks of gilded horseshoes, replaced by the hard, resonating clacks of anodized steel.  The dark metal horseshoes and mantle glittered in the aetheric starlight emanating from the flowing mane of the Princess of the Night.
Princess Luna bothered little with the view from the southwest colonnade.  The casualty reports that landed on her desk daily were more than enough to draw her ire.  The smoke from burning villages and the glow of fires on the horizon were additional unwelcome reminders of the true gravity of the situation.  Ignoring the guards that saluted her at the entrance of the boardroom, Luna threw open the massive oak doors with her magic, immediately making her presence known to those at work there.
The southwest colonnade boardroom had been converted into a war room, complete with radio operators, uniformed adjutants, maps of every size and sort, and corkboards set up on stands at workstations scattered throughout the chamber.  At its core was a massive map of the Equestrian continent around which several serious-looking ponies clad in combat tunics gathered.  Those at the table looked up, immediately snapping to attention and saluting as Luna entered the room.
"As you were," Luna spoke curtly.  The other stallions immediately went back to their stations, with only one remaining at the head of the table.
The pegasus stallion had a coat of ruddy brown, accented by white feathered fetlocks and a tuft of a beard that had been allowed to grow in spite of standard REA regulations.  He was heavily built, his shoulders looking like they were cast from bronze and his facial features chiseled from solid granite.  In spite of the wrinkles on his face, the old warhorse looked as though he could still throw down with the rest of the soldiers he commanded.  The rank stars on his uniform were arranged in a pentagon, marking him as General of the Royal Equestrian Army, chieftan of the warriors that defended Equestria.
"General Ironwing," Luna said, nodding in acknowledgement as she took her place at the opposite side of the map table.
"Your Majesty," the General replied, promptly returning the nod.
The map marked the positions of REA fortifications and formations, a thin smattering of them guarding major cities across the Heartland.  Red boxes with wings were clearly marked as having bypassed the first ring of Equestrian hardpoints.  griffon airborne elements were forming the point of a spear — a spear aimed right at Canterlot.
"I trust you've reviewed the reports," the General said.
"More than I care to, General," Luna spat.  "There is only so much slaughter I can read about before I wish to visit the same upon my enemy.  If there was a way to end this war with one singular act of violence, I would do it in a heartbeat."
"Were it so easy."
Luna sniffed at the remark.  If only one singular act of violence could end this war.  But violence had started this conflict and violence would continue it.  Someone had visited violence upon Aiden Razorclaw.  The Griffons knew it and Luna knew it.  There was foul play at work in the Aquellian parliament, but she could not prove it.  That vexed Luna to no end.
"How is my sister?" she spoke instead.
"We should honestly be glad she's alive," the general replied.  "The medics say stasis is the only thing left between her and the poison."
Violence had been visited upon Princess Celestia.  Luna still seethed when she thought of it.  Who would have the audacity to strike down an Equestrian monarch?  Who would have the means to sneak something like that into the castle's food and drink supply?  Why would anyone want to strike down a leader as well-liked and well-respected as Celestia?  Luna could only guess, but her guesses all seemed to come up as griffons.
"Noted," Luna lamented.  "Things have changed a lot since Ironhoof."
Violence had been visited upon Ironhoof.  The northern town had been a bustling seaside trade hub for Equestria and a popular stopover for  along the Talonopolis-Stalliongrad trade spine.  One day, not long after the Fall of Celestia, Ironhoof had vanished.  No mail, no couriers, no radiotelephone transmissions.  The REA platoon deployed to investigate found nothing but ashes.  The entire town had been burned to the ground.  Again, blame had fallen upon Aquellia and the new captain of the ship of state Valerian Titanclaw.
"That's putting it lightly," the General chuckled ironically.  "The world has gone to Tartarus in a saddlebag.  Ironhoof was just the beginning.  We all knew that.  But even I wasn't expecting Stalliongrad."
Luna visibly bristled.  Violence had been visited upon Stalliongrad, along with a healthy dose of deception.  "The Stalliongrad Accords were supposed to restore peace between Equestria and Aquellia.  We all know how that went..."
Luna would be the first to admit that her reception of Valerian Titanclaw was lukewarm at best, but she tried her hardest to keep the accords at the forefront of the discussion.  She had a country to run and Equestria was counting on her not to let her emotions get the better of her.  But Valerian was as shrewd as he was zealous.  The griffon could talk in circles, something that infuriated Luna to no end.  The first day's talks had been fruitless and both parties had retired that night to rest and prepare for another round of discussions.
"Of course, I would be lying if I said I never wished it upon him," the princess scowled as she recounted the events in her head.
In the wee hours of morning, shortly before the next set of talks were scheduled to begin, an attempt was made on Valerian's life.  Though he managed to escape with his life, the incident sparked a scandal that even now reverberated throughout Equestria and Aquellia.  Every bit of evidence seemed to implicate Equestria and the Luna administration.  Obviously, no such order had been given, but the damage was already done.  The assassination attempt made the Aquellian Prime Minister out to be the victim and the Princess of the Night an incompetent autocrat.  Valerian had returned to Aquellia that afternoon, leaving a harsh warning of retaliation should the "Lunar Tyrant" decide to press her luck.
"Nopony was expecting Stalliongrad, Princess," Ironwing replied.  "Just like nopony was expecting the Aquellian Blitz."
Luna had decried the initial incursion into Equestrian territory, calling for emergency meetings to halt hostilities.  But by then it was too late.  The radiotelephone channels had fallen silent and the fleets were already in motion.  Equestria was at war.
"What happened?  How did all of this get so far out of control?" Luna wondered out loud.
"I can't answer that question right now, your majesty," Ironwing said flatly.  "There was a lot that went wrong."
Valerian was responsible for this, somehow.  Luna was sure of it.  Remove Valerian from the equation and the scales of power would fall back into balance.  Luna shook her head and sighed.  Though not as versed in statecraft as her sister, Luna still knew enough to understand that killing Valerian would neither stop the war nor bring Celestia back.  She would have to find another way.
"What of the Elements of Harmony?"  Luna asked.
"The element bearers and the elements themselves have been relocated to Canterlot Castle in an effort to keep them out of griffon claws," the General replied.
Luna nodded, sighing softly in relief.  Earlier that week there had been some uncertainty as to the status and location of the Element Bearers.  Knowing that Twilight Sparkle and her friends were safely sequestered in Canterlot was the first good news Luna had heard in a while.  Letting them fall into griffon claws would have been a costly blow to the Equestrian war effort in both morale and materiel.
"Could we not use them to destroy the Aquellian Armada?"  Though Luna knew what the answer would be, she had to ask nonetheless.
"I understand that you want to end this conflict quickly, Princess, but the Element Bearers are normal ponies, not soldiers.  You cannot expect them to perform like soldiers when confronted with actual combat," the General replied promptly.  "In addition, it ruins our prospects for future diplomacy if we decide to use what will surely be percieved as a weapon of mass destruction against the griffons."
The General's reply gave Luna pause.  Even with a war on his hooves, General Ironwing still thought of peace?  Despite her long lifetime, Luna had always been the more hardheaded of the two sisters, resorting to force and intimidation in stark contrast to Celestia's patience and diplomacy.  Luna bowed her head and closed her eyes.
"You believe there is still hope for peace, General?" Luna muttered quietly.
The General's tone softened, causing Luna to look up from her personal lamentation.  "I always have hope for peace, princess..."
With a deep breath, Luna forced composure upon herself.  As much as she appreciated the General's undying support, losing her head, especially in wartime, was unbecoming of a princess.  There was still hope.  There was still an Equestria worth fighting for and Luna had to put her all into it if she hoped to lead her people to victory.
"... but I don't delude myself with how fast or how easily it can be obtained.  This will get much worse before it gets better," the General finished.
Luna managed a wan smile.  Celestia had often spoken of General Ironwing, particularly of his frankness.  Honesty was a quality that Luna appreciated, even if sometimes the truth was ugly.  She could work with this.
"I understand, General.  Now I'm sure you called me here for more than just a chat.  What needs done?"
"We don't have the numbers or the firepower to win a stand up fight, not right now, at least.  We'll need to be clever, unconventional.  But in order to do that, we'll need some very unconventional warfighters."
"I'm listening."
The general reached for his folio, sliding it along the edge of the table.  The folder came to rest immediately in front of Luna, conveniently opening up to reveal a set of dossiers for six ponies in particular.  Picking up the dossiers with her magic, Luna quickly leafed through them.  Officer, soldier, spy, aviator, mage, knight.  All the cream of the crop of their respective units.
"I call it Task Force Tacitus," Ironwing added.  "They will be my premier unconventional warfare unit."
"You'll have your ponies, General," Luna assured.  "I'll have them transferred to your command, effective immediately."
"We won't disappoint you, Princess."  Ironwing clicked his hooves together, raising his front right hoof in salute.
"Good," Luna said, returning the salute.  "I'll leave you to it, General.  You have a war to win."

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                        3. Reunion                         
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3. Reunion
Reunion
There were some things about airships that Shining Armor would never get used to.  The constant drone of the props and the pocka-pocka of the piston engines would surely be the death of him.  How was anypony supposed to get any kind of rest with that kind of racket going on?  The REA officer sniffed at his own musings.  According to General Ironwing, he'd probably be spending the duration of this war on an airship, so he should probably get used to it.  Standing up from his cushion in the galley, Shining armor stretched his legs, arching his back and tilting his neck, generating little pops and crackles as he worked out joints stiff from sitting for hours.
"I'm heading topside for some air," he tossed over his shoulder as he started towards the stairs up to the main deck.
"Wait up, colonel, I could use a quick breath, too," a chipper voice responded.
Shining Armor climbed up on to the deck, offering a hoof to the pegasus mare behind him.  Sergeant First Class Acclaim hooked her fetlock into his, allowing herself to be hoisted up on deck by the unicorn.  The pegasus fluttered her wings to propel herself onto the deck with Shining Armor's assist, gently alighting on the floorboards.  The sergeant was considerably smaller than Armor, her frame lean and limber as was typical of REA airborne troopers.  Her coat was a dull yellow, reminiscent of citrine, and the graphite streaks in her stark, black mane and tail seemed to shimmer as the high-altitude wind lofted them out behind her.  But most prominent of all was the grin plastered across her face.
"Oh Celestia, THAT'S the stuff!" She exulted, closing her eyes and feeling the wind through her mane.
Shining Armor chuckled.  Leave it to a pegasus to enjoy the wind in her mane.  He could tell a lot about pegasus personalities by how they carried themselves.  The reserved ones tended to keep their wings folded when they walked while the showoffs tended to carry their wings high and proud.  Sergeant First Class Acclaim, of course, was the latter; a consummate athlete, soldier, and tactician.
"Isn't this the best, colonel?" Acclaim shouted over the wind.
Colonel.  Short for Lieutenant Colonel.  It had been less than a decade out, but his cadet days seemed like forever ago.  Shining Armor had climbed the ranks quickly since he'd been commissioned, rising from lieutenant to captain and securing the path to major shortly after the Changeling Incident in Canterlot.  The start of the war pushed the REA to extend more commissions, finally resulting in his promotion to his current rank.  Lieutenant Colonel Shining Armor.  It was a bit of a mouthful, and to be honest quite a hoof full as well.
"Wonderful," Shining Armor replied flatly.
Of course climbing the ranks had been a double-edged sword.  With higher pay grades came more responsibility and with more responsibility came more consequences when things went wrong.  Dealing with changelings was enough.  Armor didn't need any more potentially career-threatening disasters this lifetime.  The colonel sighed.
"C'mon, Armor.  Live a little!" Acclaim playfully jabbed him on the shoulder.
"I've lived plenty, Acclaim," Armor said impassively.  Who was he kidding?  He wasn't even that old.  'Old' was General Ironwing old.  Shining Armor had heard he and Celestia went way back; the running joke being that 'way back' was during Nightmare Moon's reign of terror.
"You're a laugh a minute, Armor," Acclaim huffed.  "Ease up a bit, huh?  We're not in the horseapples yet."
"Sorry, Acclaim.  Just got a lot to think about."
Shining Armor had mellowed out in the years since the Changeling incident.  The goofy, gregarious cadet had gradually given way to a quiet professional over the course of work with castle security and V Order.  That wasn't to say he was unfriendly and unfun.  His wife would say quite the opposite, as would the other military patrons of the Ponyland, a jazz club he frequented in Canterlot.  But on mission, he was the quiet professional he was expected to be.
"We're all here, colonel.  We're not just your soldiers, we're your friends, too.  I figured you of all ponies should remember that.  Isn't your sister an expert on the magic of friendship or something?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right!"  The quip was enough to elicit a chuckle from Shining Armor.  "You get any fun in before they called you up again?"
"Caught up some with the Trottingham United boys and got to see my folks back in Cloudsdale, but that's about it.  Not that it needed to be anything else.  I got family and I got the Army.  What more do I need?"
"Point taken."  Armor's attention was diverted by the sound of the hatch opening behind him.
"Might want to get back inside, colonel," a goggled pegasus shouted above the wind.  "We're coming up on the line!  It's going to get a bit loud out there!"
"Got it."  Shining Armor waited for the crewman to clear the hatch before stepping back inside, Acclaim close behind.  The two settled back down in the passenger compartment, watching the descent through the cloud layer through the corvette's portholes.  The sound of cannon fire immediately caught Shining Armor's ear.  Just below, atop a low hill, lay an Equestrian gun battery.  The pungent smell of burned propellant hung heavy in the air, filtering in through the vents as the corvette descended towards the fire base.
"Firebase Titus, this is Foxglove Eight-Three-Niner requesting permission to land, over."
"Foxglove-839, this is Titus control, you are cleared for descent.  Landing pad three is open and awaiting your arrival.  Stay low and keep the gun lanes clear, over."
"Roger that, Titus.  We are on approach.  Foxglove-839 out."
The corvette descended nearly to ground level, hovering a few meters above the landing pads, the wash of its props kicking up dust devils as the ship descended.  The pilot deftly slewed its tail around and extended the landing skids, gently setting the small ship down on the hastily-constructed concrete circle.
"Keep the engines hot," Shining Armor shouted over the roar of props.  "We'll be quick about it."
The pilot acknowledged with a quick tap of his hoof on his flight cap.  Acclaim and Shining Armor dismounted via the side door, trotting off the pad into the trenches.
"Who are we looking for?"
"You'll know him when you see him."
Ponies scrambled back and forth, some toting folios full of documents, others running verbal commands from one gun to another, and others still hauling carts full of ammunition and powder charges.  A few paused long enough to snap off salutes, which were returned in kind by Shining Armor.  From the trenches, it was a short walk to the command bunker, less a structure than a dugout shored up with chopped up tree trunks and steel grating.  Radio operators and adjutants occupied the perimeter, ringing the battered-looking folding table that served as the combat information center.  Shining Armor smiled as he approached.
"Sergeant Stone Bones?"
The chestnut stallion was a veritable mountain of a pony.  Tall as an alicorn princess and twice as wide, 'Bones' looked like he could crush a griffon with a single hoof or haul an airship by his teeth.  Roaned patches on his fetlocks and a single stripe blaze on his muzzle only served to highlight his enormous size.  At the summons, Bones looked up, his eyes quizzical at first, but quickly widening as a grin spread across his face.
"Armor, ya mare-forsaken bastard!" the big pony laughed as he rushed around the table to embrace the colonel.
Shining Armor thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head with how hard he was being squeezed.  The colonel patted his hooves against Bones' forelegs in vain until the big pony finally released him.
"How the blazes are ya?"
"I've seen better, Bones," Armor said, dusting himself off.  "But you... look at you, a staff sergeant!  You finally got your big boy chevrons!  How did you manage to talk the brass into THAT?"
"Aye, it really wasn't that hard," Bones admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with a hoof as he did.  "They were groomin' me for staff sergeant ever since I got in!  After the war started, they dropped me right in the horseapples and here I am!"
"Chevrons look good on you, Bones.  I'm happy for you!"
"Thank ye, Armor... or should I say Colonel Shining Armor.  Never thought I'd see you wearing a silver leaf.  Why, I remember when your captain's deuces were still fresh!"
"Hah!  Those were the days..."
"Hey I hate to break up your little kissy-kissy, but are you two ladies done with your romancing yet?  The corvette's burning aether as we speak!"  Armor looked back over his shoulder to find Acclaim leaning up against the wall forelegs crossed, wings allowed to droop, and a smirk on her face.  Shining Armor snorted.
"Grab your gear, Bones.  We're headed back to Canterlot."
"Canterlot, sir?  But the fight's the other way!"
"General Ironwing wants you on that corvette.  He's got a different kind of fight in mind for us."
"What the hay is going on in here?" a sharp voice broke the chatter.
Bones immediately snapped to attention and saluted the ruddy pegasus stallion who had just entered the bunker.  The stallion was nearly as big as Stone Bones, a rarity among Pegasi.  Despite his intimidating size, he had a distinct air of youth about him, a hunch confirmed as Shining Armor caught the outline of single bars on his rank tabs, the emblem of a second lieutenant.
"New orders, lieutenant," Bones reported.  "I'm being transferred."
"Transferred?" the lieutenant said, slamming his front hooves on the table.  "You just got here, sergeant!  I need you in this fight.  Who in Tartarus is poaching my reinforcements right out from under my muzzle?"
"That would be General Ironwing, lieutenant," Shining Armor dictated, putting special emphasis on his commanding officer's rank.  The colonel opened his saddlebag, removing his document folio.  From it, he produced a written order, stamped clearly with General Ironwing's signet.  "Staff Sergeant Stone Bones is needed in Canterlot immediately.  His replacement will be arriving shortly."
The lieutenant shot a dirty glance at Armor, but quickly went wide-eyed with suprise when he realized just who he was addressing.  He stumbled backwards, nearly falling back on his haunches, his wings flaring out in shock and a clumsy effort to stabilize himself.  Having gotten all four hooves firmly planted on the ground again, the lieutenant stiffened up to attention and clumsily saluted.
"My apologies, Lieutenant Colonel!" the lieutenant fumbled, obviously flustered.  "I didn't realize who I was addressing!"
"Cool your hooves, butterbars," Acclaim yawned.  "We got this."
It was now Shining Armor's turn to glare over his shoulder, to which Acclaim replied only with a shrug.  "As you were, lieutenant.  I was in error for not coming to you first.  Regardless, my orders are to bring the sergeant back to Canterlot."
"Understood, sir!" the junior officer chanted in reply.  "Permission to speak freely, sir!"
"Make it quick, lieutenant."
"My father speaks very highly of you, sir!  I'm happy to lend you use of my troops if he thinks it's necessary for the war effort!"
"Father?  You're old Ironwing's kid?" Shining Armor squinted.  It was true; the family resemblance was definitely there.  "Well I'll be damned!"
"Yes, sir!  Second Lieutenant Diomedes Ironwing, sir!" the lieutenant piped up proudly.
"Your father speaks highly of you as well, lieutenant.  I'm sure you'll do that commission proud.  Now if you'll pardon me, I have an airship to catch."
"Yessir, thankyousir!"
Shining Armor snapped off a salute, dismissing the lieutenant to his duties.
"I'll meet you on the landing pad, Colonel," Bones threw over his shoulder as he trotted off to retrieve his things.  Shining Armor nodded, turning towards the landing pad while motioning for Acclaim to follow.
"I almost feel bad for him!" Acclaim chuckled as they walked.  "But not really!  I looooove watching butterbars squirm!"
"Don't tell me you never considered joining the officer corps..."
"Not on your life, colonel!" Acclaim raised her voice to be heard as they approached the idling airship's whirling props.  "Unlike you, I actually LIKE working for a living!"
Armor shook his head as he climbed the step back onto the corvette.  She was going to be a hoof full.  Acclaim gave her wings a flutter, alighting on the top step before slipping back inside.
"Ach, you two are lucky you caught me when you did!" Bones' distinct accent carried over the sound of props.  "I hadn't even unpacked my saddlebags yet."
Leaning out the side hatch of the corvette, Shining Armor offered a hoof to his old friend.  "Either way, Bones, we're glad to have you."
The big stallion hooked Shining Armor's fetlock into his own, pulling himself through the barely-adequate the hatch opening.  With all soldiers on board, Armor lit the hatch with his magic, pulling it shut and locking it tight.  Trotting up to the cockpit, Armor banged on the bulkhead to get the pilot's attention, waving his hoof to indicate that they were ready.  The pilot nodded and hit the throttle.
"Titus Control, this is Foxglove Eight Three Niner, requesting permission to take off, over."
"Foxglove-839, you are cleared for takeoff.  Happy trails.  Titus, out."
The whine of the corvette's engines increased in intensity, the airframe shuddering as weight was lifted off the skids.  Glancing out the porthole, Shining Armor watched as the earth fell away, leaving the thunder of guns behind.  With the airship back under way, Armor headed back up to the galley, taking a seat at the one booth by the kitchenette.
"So what's this all about, Armor?"
Bones dropped his pack saddle with an unceremonious thump, almost sending Shining Armor flying from his seat.  The big pony grinned sheepishly before shoving his pack to the floor.  Resettling himself on the couch, Armor chuckled and shook his head.
"Call it a family reunion.  After Saraneighvo, General Ironwing decided he couldn't do without."
"Guess old Ironwing missed the company, eh?"
"I'll let him tell you when we get back.  He's got quite a bit to go over with us."
"Don't feel bad, big boy.  He didn't tell me a damn thing either and he was my ride in."  Acclaim was already kicked back in the seat with her helmet pulled down over her eyes.  She was obviously planning to pass the hours on the ride back to Canterlot asleep.
"I'll take yer word for it, Armor," Bones replied, sniffing at Acclaim's remark.
"How's your old sire, Bones?"
"Still in physical therapy.  He's doing much better after the surgery, but he's still got to learn how to walk again.  Old draft horse is chomping at the bit to get back to work.  I have to keep reminding him that I can cover the costs until he's back on his hooves again."
"Sounds like old Ironwing in a way," Armor chuckled.  "Old sire Bones sounds like a hay of a stallion.  I'd love to meet him someday."
"If this war ever ends and we have a right proper REA ball, you'll get to meet him.  Expect him to be chatting up all the butterbars at the counter with stories from the ring!"
"I can see it now," Armor said, adding a grizzled-sounding growl and a laughably bad accent to his voice in imitation of Bones' father.  "Ach, when I was your age, I was plowing fields by day and rearranging faces by night!  I could crush heads like sparrow eggs between me thighs and once wrestled an ursa minor until it tapped out!"
"That's closer than you think, Armor.  You sure you've never met him before?"
"I think we'll get along just fine when we do."
Bones reached down to his ruck, withdrawing a canteen from its pouch and taking a swig.  "How's the missus?"
"Busy, just like me.  You know that new radio program, 'the Voice of Equestria'?  That's her brainchild."
"Aye, I thought that voice sounded familiar!  I'm glad she's making a name for herself.  She'll do Equestria a whole lot of good while she's at it.  You must be proud, Armor."
"I am.  I only wish I had more time with her to myself.  But duty calls, and Cadence answers."
"I don't blame you," Acclaim chimed in.  "If I were married to a bombshell like her, I'd want her all to myself, too!"
"Hoi, Featherfluff!  Weren't you planning on sleeping?"
Acclaim lifted her helmet and scowled.  "How the hay am I supposed to sleep with you two ladies jabbering on like you do?"
"Ye aren't!  Get your flank over here, sergeant!  We were making proper conversation!"
"That's sergeant first class to you, buddy!"
"Oh I see!  Got your big girl bridle on now, don't you?  All ready for the army to ride you harder?"
"Hey, hey!" Acclaim laughed, fluttering up onto her hooves and sauntering over to them.  "Let it be known that Big McLargeHuge over here was the first to break out the innuendos, not me!"
"And let it be known that Flitter Fleatherfluff can dish it but can't take it!" Bones retorted, rising from his seat.
The scene was so comical that Shining Armor had to put a hoof to his muzzle to stifle a laugh.  Bones, the huge earth pony glaring down at Acclaim.  Acclaim, the plucky pegasus who was barely half his size but no less resolute.  The glaring match continued until finally Acclaim cracked a smile, leaping up to embrace Bones in a hug.  Bones hooked a massive foreleg around her back and gave her a squeeze, returning the greeting.
"Good to have you back, Bones!"
"Likewise," Stone Bones chuckled.  "You give the Trottingham United boys a run for their bits back home?"
"Damn right I did!"
"Good!  No loose ends; we're all set for whatever Armor has in store for us, then!" the big pony laughed heartily as he sat back down, Acclaim flopping down across the cabin table from him.
"You mean whatever old Ironwing has in store for us," Armor corrected.  "I don't write the plays, I just run them."
Bones dipped into his saddlebags again, this time retrieving a very different kind of flask.  Holding the steel container in his front hooves, Bones deftly undid the cap with his teeth allowing the vapors of its contents to slowly waft into the galley.  Shining Armor could detect the faintly smoky odor of Bones' local brand of whiskey.
"Now I've been saving this for something special," the big pony began.
"How very thoughful of you, Bones!" Shining Armor laughed.
"I figure this is as good a time as any, you know, since the family is back together again!"  Bones cleared his throat, raising the flask high in both hooves as he began the toast.  "Here's tae us!  Who's like us?"
Bones took a drink from the flask, passing the flask off to Shining Armor.  Armor grasped the flask with his magic, nodding to Bones in acknowledgement.
"Damn few!" Armor declared, taking a drink before passing it off to Acclaim.
"And they're all dead!" she chanted, completing the toast.  The sergeant tipped the flask back, taking a long swig.
"Hey!" Bones said leaping up and grabbing the flask from Acclaim.  "Don't drink it all!  Glenrisset is expensive!"
"Oh Celestia, that stuff is good!" Acclaim laughed.  "You sure know how to pick your drink, Bones!"
"Thank my father," Bones chuckled as he replaced the cap.  "You'll have to meet him some day, Featherfluff!  I bet the old sire could still give you a run for your money both in the ring and on the pitch!  By Tartarus, even the Hoofington boys think he's still got fight in 'im..."
The banter between the enlisted ponies faded away in Shining Armor's mind as he turned his gaze to the porthole.  Below them, the greenery of the Heartland flew past; apple orchards, flowing fields of golden wheat, quaint hamlets, and tiny copses of deciduous trees decorated rolling verdant hills peppered with patches of multicolored flowers.  This was the true beauty of Equestria: the land lovingly tended to by the ponies.  War had not yet reached this far east, but if reports were accurate, that would soon change.  Armor could only hope that whatever Ironwing had planned was worth pulling them off the line.
"You better know what you're doing, old sire..."

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                   4. Back in the Saddle                   
//-------------------------------------------------------//
4. Back in the Saddle
Back in the Saddle
If there was one thing that could be counted upon, it was the skill and precision with which the cooks in the cafe were able to whip up food and drink.  Soups, sandwiches, salads, entrees, confectionery, soft drinks, caffeine; all were the purview of the culinary wizards of Canterlot.  Having hot food brought all sorts of comfort to the otherwise stressed staff, not the least of which were the soldiers fighting the war and the officers directing them.  But to fight a war, the soldiers needed to know their enemy and the officers needed to know where to send their soldiers.  So behind the scenes toiled the intelligence community.
Steam rose steadily from the mug of coffee sitting dormant on a cafe table.  The brew had a peculiar pungency to it, a nutty aroma interspersed with hints of spiciness that nipped at the tongue and warmed the olfactories.  The mug was suddenly enveloped in the faint violet glow of unicorn magic, to which it responded by gingerly lifting off the table and floating to the lips of the unicorn it belonged to.  His coat was a striking ultramarine color, highlighted by a blaze of bone white upon his muzzle, the same color as his mane and tail.
Fletcher sipped at his Quaggan dark roast as he scribbled down notes in pen.  War had changed just about everything except the coffee at the company bar.  Guard reports on petty crime turned into casualty reports and dossiers on artifact traffickers and petty thieves turned into folios of information on Aquellian commanders, politicians, and underworld movers and shakers.
Fletcher tapped at the folded up newspaper on the cafe table with a white feathered hoof.  This was his break time.  He was supposed to take a few minutes off analyzing documents and grab some coffee, perhaps finish a number grid puzzle to take his mind off things.  But the number grid had been filled some time ago and his pen gyrations turned into unintelligible scribbles laced with mathematical calculations on ballistic trajectories and kinematic analyses of his past few sessions at the archery range.  The unicorn snorted.
This wasn't his job.  His job was field work.  Reconnaissance.  Pathfinding.  Ever since the Royal Equestrian Intelligence Network had picked him up, his daily life had gotten more and more sedentary.  Fletcher trained himself mercilessly in an effort to keep the desk job from making a doorstop out of him, but without Army PT and the constant pressure from missions, it got harder and harder to keep up with his regimens each day.  Still, Fletcher prided himself on his laser-like focus and he wasn't about to quit for the sake of a few pompous pains in the flank at HQ.
The coffee mug drifted to Fletcher's lips again as he took another sip.  Quaggan dark roast was one of the more unique brews that came through the cafe.  Originating from specialty growers in northern Unyasi — land of the Zebras — it was well known only by government workers and a select few students from Canterlot University who would often take pride in the fact that their peers had never heard of it.  Quaggan had a unique flavor to it; a taste akin to hazelnuts, but with a bit of burn to it not dissimilar to fresh jalapenos.  It was often served with cocoa, the bitterness of the unsweetened chocolate precursor serving to temper the spice.  Whatever it was, it was strong enough to keep Fletcher from having his muzzle face first in his paperwork.
"Hot drink?  And none for me?"
"Get your own," Fletcher replied curtly.
The voice belonged to a unicorn mare, a bit taller than average, leggy and dextrous with an eyecatching figure and plenty of swagger to match.  Her brilliant red mane and tail were long and luxurious, impeccably styled though oddly practical, constrasting heavily with her pearl white coat.  Fletcher didn't even have to glance up to know she was turning heads as she entered.  She always did that.  It was actually quite vexing.  For a field agent, she certainly attracted more attention than Fletcher cared to deal with.
"A 'nice to see you, Corona' would have sufficed."  The fire-maned mare slinked around the table, sliding herself onto the cushion across from Fletcher.
Agent Corona Borealis was simultaneously Fletcher's biggest asset at the "other government agency" and his biggest liability.  Highly intelligent, magically capable, and ever the charmer, Corona was one of the best illusionists and social engineers in the game.  Of course, that was a double-edged sword when it came to accountability.  Corona had a tendency to play fast and loose with the rules, meaning Fletcher was usually the one to rein her in and in the end cover for her shenanigannery before OGA dropped the hammer on them.
"That would have been too easy," Fletcher muttered, half his muzzle already buried in his coffee mug.  "Since you obviously didn't come to chat, I presume you're here to prematurely terminate my break."
"Oh Fletcher, so brilliant!  However did you figure it out?" Corona exclaimed in the most mockingly dramatic fashion possible, complete with hoof emotes.
Fletcher scowled.  He really wasn't in the mood for silliness.  But if it got her out of his mane faster, he supposed he could indulge her.  "First, you didn't bring a hot beverage or a meal to the table.  Consuming food and drink occupies the space between conversation segments, making the pacing more natural and therefore less awkward.  Since food and drink occupy time, it can be assumed that you aren't going to be spending much time in the cafe.  You also made a direct line for my table at a brisk pace which was quite easy to hear, though probably not so easy for the mouth-breathers gawking at your flank two tables down."
Fletcher paused for a moment to set his mug down and refold his newspaper.  "Besides, it's kind of hard to miss that folio floating behind your head."
"Well, ace, you got me," Corona shrugged.  "Guess you get a prize!"
"Let's see it."  Fletcher tapped his hoof on the table impatiently.
Corona opened the folio daintily, producing a single document, this one stamped with the signet of the General of the Royal Equestrian Army.  Fletcher gripped the document with his magic, his hoof sliding along his chin as he read.  Body of text.  Fine print.  Approval signet.  This was the real deal.
"So the army wants me back?"
"Not quite.  The didn't forget Saraneighvo."
Fletcher gritted his teeth.  Saraneighvo.  The name still made him bristle.  "I should have figured they wouldn't.  Then again, neither should you."
"I haven't forgotten, Fletcher.  After all, I'm still — what's the word?  'Indebted.'"
Indebted.  A fancy euphemism for having saved her life in more ways than one.  Sometimes Fletcher had to wonder if it was really worth it.  Corona was a loose cannon, not just for OGA, but for him personally.  The situation was complicated in peacetime; now that there was a war on... Fletcher growled in exasperation.  He was going to have a hard time keeping things from breaking apart if Corona got on OGA's bad side.  But for better or for worse, they were saddled together and he wasn't about to let his partner fall.
"Right.  Indebted.  OGA seems to like you still.  Somehow.  Let's not change that."
Corona waved a hoof dismissively before leaning over and taking a whiff of Fletcher's caffeinated concoction.  "Quaggan dark.  As if your insides weren't bitter enough!"
"Cut to the chase, Corona."
"We've got a new assignment," she replied flatly.
"We?"
"Well, we're partners, after all," the fire-maned beauty smiled.  "You didn't think old Ironwing would let you off that easily, did you?"
Fletcher put a hoof to his forehead and sighed.  The former army captain was practically chomping at the bit to get back in the fight.  The field was where he belonged.  His skill set was much better suited to special activities than analyst work.  Corona knew it, Ironwing knew it, and he himself knew it.  If Ironwing could make that happen, he was going to jump at the opportunity... if he didn't buck Corona in the face first.
"When does he want to see us?"
"Now."
Fletcher groaned.  "At least give me time to get my hat and saddlebags."
Fletcher picked up his coffee as he stood up, doing an about face and heading straight for the door.  Corona slinked out from behind the table, flanking Fletcher as they made for the door.  Fletcher finished off his coffee, dropping the mug in the bussing bin as they left.  The two unicorns made their way out of the cafe, bound for Fletcher's office in the old wing of the building.
The REIN HQ was a mishmash of modern stylings and old architecture.  The cafe was a relatively recent addition to the building and thus carried with it a sleek, modern look with open spaces, curvy styling, and warm colors.  As they left the cafe and entered the office wing, the atmosphere changed dramatically.  The office wing was a shining example of old-school architecture.  Greco-Roaman pillars highlighting drab walls with creaking varnished hardwood floors that had seen far too many hooffalls were the highlights of the wing.  Despite its austerity, the office wing had a certain charm to it that Fletcher found comforting, especially after spending hours reviewing the perpetual deluge of reports coming from the western front.
"What do you think Ironwing has stowed in his saddlebags this time?" Fletcher mused as the trotted.
Corona shrugged.  "Hard to say.  He called me in, said he had new orders for you and then sent me to fetch you."
"Looks like the Army still doesn't want to touch me with a ten-foot pole."
"I'd like to think I'm far better-looking and far more functional than a ten-foot pole!"
"I'll have to think about that," Fletcher smirked.  "You make it tough to tell sometimes."
"Well, I never!"  Corona replied in mock consternation.
"You never, but I do."  The two shared a chuckle as they entered the office cluster.
Fletcher's office wasn't so much an office as it was an oversized cubicle with a desk, plenty of writing utilities, an amanuesis plate, and an impressive set of filing cabinets.  Not that anything terribly important was kept there; they had merely been a holdover from the previous occupant.  Fletcher would have had them thrown out and burned, but REIN seemed intent on keeping them there as a reminder of his new profession.
"The papers say to meet Ironwing in the war room." The former captain retrieved his fedora and suit jacket with his magic as he spoke, standing on his hind legs to replace both on his person.  "Ironwing must be desperate for adjutants if he wants to poach me from REIN just to do paperwork.  I wonder how comfy the desks are in the war room..."
"They never said which unit we were being attached to or what we were doing with them, only that we were being transferred in preparation for some new REA operations that were coming online soon."
"And?"
"Wake up, Fletcher.  Vagueness?  Wishy-washy wording?  Leveraging administrative authority?  Don't you think this smells like wetwork to you?"
"Smells like irony to me."
"Ugh, fine," Corona huffed, rolling her eyes.  "Stew in your little bin of self-pity over Saraneighvo while the rest of Equestria burns."
Fletcher glared at Corona, his expression a mixture of disbelief and ire.  Something clicked inside, causing a distinct change in Fletcher's ordinarily calm demeanor.  The former captain gritted his teeth as all desire to mollify his rage evaporated.
"You can't stand there and tell me REIN hasn't made every legal attempt to put me out to pasture short of firing me outright!"  His voice sank into a terse whisper from where it had risen to a shout.
"Look at this!"  He growled, waving a hoof around the cubicle.  "This is my punishment for doing what I thought was right!"
Fletcher was visibly trembling now, his voice still steady but his glare and the tremors making him look like he was primed to explode at any moment.  Putting his muzzle close to Corona's and glaring until he was sure he could shoot lightning into her eyes, Fletcher spat his retort, venom dripping from every word.  "So don't come and complain to me about self-pity.  Don't tell me I can't do my job.  I have no delusions about REIN treating me nicely.  I wouldn't expect them to.  But let it be known that I'm here to make sure Equestria doesn't burn to the ground and you can be gods damned sure I'll do my job until I die!"
Corona stared straight through Fletcher, her face expressionless, but her eyes clearly searching his.  What for, Fletcher would probably never know.  As long as he'd worked with Corona, she had been forever inscrutable.  Growling in frustration, Fletcher broke eye contact, whirling around to sling his saddlebags onto his back.
"It's an opportunity, Fletcher.  I've never known you to throw opportunities away." Corona was perfectly calm as she spoke, unfazed by Fletcher's outburst.  "Think of it as way to get OGA off your back for a bit.  Ironwing isn't the kind to get pushed around by sniveling REIN spooks with their own agenda.  He'll take care of you."
Corona was incisive and precise with her remarks, knowing just how to push the right buttons, while hardly seeming vulnerable to it herself.  But though Fletcher still seethed inside, Corona's subsequent pronouncement was strangely comforting.  Fletcher sighed.  She was right.  Again.  It was a way to escape the OGA watchdogs and get back into what was surely shaping up to be wetwork.
"I'll take your word for it," Fletcher finally replied.  "Let's go see the General."
************
The walk from headquarters to the palace complex was thankfully short.  The two continued into the main entrance of the palace complex, flashing their badges and being ushered in by the guards out front.  A tip of the hat, a wave of the hoof, a flash of the badge, and the two agents passed through the palace gates unmolested.
Finally, the Fletcher and Corona arrived at the Southwest Colonnade.  The covered walk's open side faced out into the valley.  Below lay the suburb of Solstice Heights, perhaps best known for its vineyards and wineries.  Farther out lay Ponyville, home of the Element Bearers and one of the better-known small towns in the Heartland region.  But it was neither the suburbs nor the quaint country village that caught Fletcher's eye.  Out near the horizon, thin plumes of black smoke rose high into the sky.  From the far distance, the sound of distant thunder reached Fletcher's ears.  Despite the calm in Canterlot, Equestria was still at war.
"Kind of makes you think, doesn't it?"  Corona quietly uttered.
Fletcher quickly glanced at Corona.  "About what we'll do once the war finally gets here?"
"No.  What started this all.  I mean I'm sure you've read the reports, but with something this big, how did REIN miss the signs?"
"I don't make the decisions, Corona.  I just inform the ponies who do.  Furthermore, I wasn't on assignment for the dispatches that came through on the eve of war."
"I wasn't blaming you, Fletcher."
"Who you blame now doesn't matter.  Eventually we'll all pay for our sins."
"Noble Fletcher, ever the martyr."
To Fletcher's dirty look, Corona replied only with a shrug and a gesture of her head to keep moving.  Finally, they arrived at the board room.  Corona stopped just short of the guards at the door, turning to face her partner, the slightest of smirks tugging at her lips.  Fletcher looked at her quizzically.
"Something up?"
The fire-maned mare lit her horn, enveloping Fletcher's tie and collar with her magic.  The former captain felt a tug left and a tug right before subconsciously gagging as Corona tugged down on the short end of the tie, fitting it snugly to his neck.  His scowl was rebutted with the smile of a filly who had just gotten away with mischief.
"Your tie was crooked," she nickered happily.  "Have to be presentable for the General!"
"Right..." Fletcher grumbled.
One more flash of ID badges admitted them to the inner sanctum of the Equestrian war effort.  Fletcher instantly tuned out the shifting of papers, the chattering of conversation, and the buzz of radio traffic around him, instead focusing on the brightly lit table that served as the war room's centerpiece.  As he approached, Fletcher was already analyzing the war map, guesstimating Aquellian troop movements and playing out possible scenarios in his head.
Fletcher's youth had been spent vexing the teachers with both his mathematical prowess and inability to remain focused in class.  While his parents had kept him occupied with advanced reading material and later on advanced classes, he had perpetually been a thorn in academia's flank.  The Army and REIN support work with V Order provided him the kind of engagement that kept him out of trouble.  His tactical brilliance had placed him on the fast track to promotion, which meant better pay, better assignments, and more challenges to cut his teeth on.
But his genius was a double-edged sword.  Ennui was a constant problem that Fletcher struggled with.  If he wasn't engaged, he wasn't happy and if he wasn't happy, neither was anypony else in the company.  After his first deployment in Stalliongrad, the local Guard units had even given him a nickname for his ferocious need to keep himself occupied: "Akula," Stallian for "shark."
"General Ironwing?  Agents Fletcher and Corona reporting for duty."
The former captain shook his head and blinked several times, suddenly realizing that he had been staring unblinking at the war map for the better part of a minute.  He hadn't even announced their presence or greeted anypony there!  Fletcher took a deep breath and turned his attention away from the map, instead focusing on the broad-shouldered uniformed stallion at the far end of the table.
The General stepped out from behind the war map, trotting towards the two with a smile.  Reaching Fletcher, Ironwing extended a hoof to shake.  "Agent Fletcher.  It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Don't remind me," Fletcher muttered, returning the shake.  "OGA's had me locked in the archives running intel analyses ever since the war broke out."
"So I've read," Ironwing replied, returning to all fours.  "OGA appreciates your talents, Fletcher."
"I'm sure they do, sir.  But if it were my choice, I'd rather have my bars back."
"I can't give you your bars back, Fletcher, but I can get you away from that desk."
To the General's remark, Corona could only issue a smirk, which Fletcher caught out of the corner of his eye.  Was he really putting them back in the field?  Were they really back to conducting direct action and strategic reconnaissance?  Was this the chance Fletcher had been waiting for since he'd been thrown into the bureaucracy?
"Color me interested," Fletcher piped up, perhaps a little more excited than he intended to sound. "What have we got?"
"Call it a special assignment," the General answered.  "I'll brief you all when the rest of the team arrives, which should be any minute now..."
General Ironwing could not have timed it any more perfectly.  With a loud clack, the doors to the war room unlocked, slowly opening to reveal three silhouettes backlit by the glow of twilight outside.  Fletcher squinted to make out faces and bodies, but could not until the three stepped past the threshold into the war room proper.  Fletcher's eyes first went wide with surprise before quickly narrowing as the switch of recognition clicked in his mind.
"You..."

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                        5. Tacitus                         
//-------------------------------------------------------//
5. Tacitus
Tacitus
The war room never slept.  Around the clock, ponies came and went, some bringing reports, others bringing coffee and food.  Radio chatter formed the basis for background noise, and the constant buzzing of tubes, transformers, aetherium generators, and switches electrified the atmosphere.  This may not have been where the war was fought, but it was certainly where the war would be won.  Shining Armor returned the salute of the guards at the door, waiting patiently as they opened the door.
The oaken slabs creaked open, projecting a widening wedge of twilight into the dim expanse of a war room lit only with aetherium lamps and the occasional flash of an amaneusis spell.  Shining Armor scanned the room as he crossed the threshold, finally meeting eyes with a familiar unicorn.
"Fletcher?"
"Shining Armor," came the flat response.
"Good to see you back on your hooves."
"Indeed."
Fletcher's response left Shining Armor at a loss.  From their brief prior meeting, the colonel knew him to be something of a hard-boiled pessimist.  Given the circumstances of that meeting, however, Shining Armor wasn't terribly certain his assessment of Fletcher's character could be accurate.  However, it seemed here that his gut feeling was correct.
A clearing of the throat brought all eyes upon the grizzled visage of General Ironwing.  Shining Armor, Acclaim, and Stone Bones instantly stiffened to attention, their right front hooves popping up in salute.  The General returned the salute, silently motioning to the war map immediately afterwards.  The assembled company took their places around the table, glancing back and forth at old acquaintences and former comrades in arms.  The General tapped his hoof on the table, formally beginning the meeting.
"Fillies and gentlecolts," General Ironwing began.  "I don't have to remind you how bad it is out there.  You see it every day if you look out to the western horizon.  You read about it every day in the newspapers and the casualty reports that no doubt have been landing on your desks."
Shining Armor had heard it all before.  After all, he was one of those tasked with coordinating local security and escalating it appropriately as the war approached Canterlot.  The colonel distracted himself by leafing through the documents provided by General Ironwing.  The General motioned with a hoof to the red spearhead that loomed over the western edge of the Heartland region.
"The ARM is making a determined push across the Heartland.  Thus far they've been ignoring defensive hardpoints and bypassing any hedgehogs we've left for them.  It's obvious that they are going straight for a decapitating strike against Equestrian leadership in Canterlot.  REA forces harrying the advance are slowing them down, but the fact remains that we don't have a lot of time left."
"How much time is 'not a lot'?" The first question came from Fletcher.
The unicorn's inflection was impeccable, precise.  He already had a plan in mind with what he'd gathered from Ironwing's notes and the war map.  That much Armor could see.  This was the Fletcher he knew from the dossiers, but there was a bit of an edge to his inflection that he hadn't noticed before.  He was eager... very eager.
"Two weeks if we're lucky," General Ironwing continued.  "Maybe more if the Griffons continue to be lax about protecting their flanks."
"A week should be more than enough time for Stalliongrad's fleet and a detachment of VSS to mobilize."  Tapping on the boundaries of northern Equestria, Armor motioned towards Stalliongrad with a hoof.  "We could use Stallian Guard battalions to blunt the Aquellian spearhead until we can muster enough forces to counterattack."
"If it were that easy, I wouldn't have called you all here."  The General's response made Armor's heart sink.
"Called it..." Fletcher uttered quietly.
"Stalliongrad is out of the picture."  The General pointed to the Northern Frontier territory, where blue boxes indicating Stallian airships and red boxes indicating Aquellian airships stood astride a line of question marks.
"Radio communications has been dodgy," the General continued.  "From what we were able to piece together, the whole of the Northern Frontier Territory is being hammered by a storm of epic proportions.  Our one consolation is that the Aquellian battlegroup sent to seize Stalliongrad is stuck in the same predicament."
"So it's just us," Shining Armor said quietly.
"Of course." Acclaim snorted, letting her hoof fall to the table.  "How could we ever fight a war if we were actually ready for it?"
"Without Stalliongrad's ships and the REA still reeling from the Blitz, we can't fight on equal footing with the ARM."  Ironwing concluded.
So it had come to this.  The Griffon fleet was steaming headlong towards Canterlot and there wasn't a damn thing that the REA could do about it.  Maybe Ironwing had called Shining Armor here to have him set up the shield spell to protect Canterlot until the fleets arrived?  Armor shook his head.  That was madness.  Stopping a few changeling drones and rooting out infiltrators was one thing, but halting unending barrages of cannon fire and an army of angry Griffons?  That was insanity.
"So what's the plan?" Armor asked slowly.
"We can't win a stand up fight, so we'll need to be subtle — unconventional.  I need unconventional warfighters."  The General paused for a moment to let it sink in.  "I need you."
"Well damn," Acclaim muttered in amusement.  Shining Armor caught her tail flicking and rear hoof tapping in barely contained excitement.  "Could have said that earlier!"
"Fillies and gentlecolts, welcome to Task Force Tacitus," the General smiled as he declared.  "Forget anything you heard from high command and OGA. From now on, you work for me.  You will have full access to the magical and technological might of the Royal Equestrian Army and full authority to conduct operations against enemies both foreign and domestic in support of the war effort."
This was it.  He  was really going to war.  He was going to take the fight to the enemy instead of sitting back awaiting his fate.  He would face capture and death and he would command his troops to do the same.  Armor could deal with the former, but the prospect of the latter chilled him to the bone.  These weren't just his soldiers he was sending into the maelstrom.  These were his friends.  His decisions would determine life and death.  Failure was not an option; the price was just too high.
"There's no question that we're going to lose Canterlot.  But before that happens, I need Tacitus to handle a few things for me.  It's still early in the war; the battlefield is still chaotic for both sides.  We can use this to our advantage."
"When do we start?"  Acclaim leaned forward, crossing her hooves on the table in front of her.
"Now.  We are on a very tight time table.  I've arranged for your issue gear to be transferred to our operations airship, though you'll have to gather any personal effects yourself.  Shining Armor will brief you on board ship while en route to objective."
"I will?" Armor sputtered.  He'd barely finished reading the notes in the folio he'd been issued and now he was expected to be the expert on the mission?  The colonel quickly regained his composure, scanning the pages for a departure information and clearing his throat to give himself a moment to refocus.  "I will.  Everypony make sure you're on the ship by... 2200 tonight.  She's docked at the palace complex's private berth.  Rest up and we'll brief at 0400 before mission.  Hooah?"
"HOOAH!" Came the chirped reply from Acclaim and Stone Bones; less so from Fletcher.
"Excellent," Ironwing nodded, concluding the briefing.  "Lieutenant Colonel, I will need to see you afterwards.  The rest of you are dismissed."
Armor bit his lip.  Now what?  Part of him still went through the same motions as an ornery colt who had just been called into the principal's office.  The other smuggly brushed his own shoulder and planned on sauntering up to the General, who clearly regarded his service as exceptional.  Holding them both together and driving him to trot over to General Ironwing was the training that all REA officers received on how to greet their superiors.  The other ponies slowly filed out as Ironwing looked him straight in the eye.
"General?" Shining Armor inquired as he paused at parade rest before Ironwing.
"Son," the General began, slowly pacing around the war room table.  "Do you know why I'm putting you in charge of this mission?"
"It's my job, sir.  When they — you — tell me to go, I go.  There's nothing more to it." Armor answered with the most generic answer he could muster.
"Armor, I had my doubts at first.  When I asked for a competent captain and I got you, I thought high command was joking.  But after Saraneighvo, I knew I had somepony special."
"Thank you, sir.  I'm flattered.  But forgive me if I don't understand what you're getting at."
"You can do a warfighter's job, Armor.  We need soldiers to fight this war.  But more than ever, we need ponies who remember who they are.  Regardless of the outcome, we can't afford to let the war consume us."  The General turned to face Armor directly, staring straight into his eyes as he spoke.  "We aren't savages.  We haven't gotten to where we are by butchering our foes and delighting in the slaughter.  With all the recent cries for Griffon blood, I need somepony who can keep his hooves firmly on the ground.  I trust you to be that pony."
"I won't disappoint, sir."
"Good.  Now call your wife.  It's going to be a busy week."
************
The clip-clops of bare hooves on marbled stone echoed through the vaults of the Southwest Colonnade.  One set of hoofsteps were brisk, but deliberate, angry, even.  Interspersed between them were lighter, more spritely steps, seeming to dance circles around their partner, never struggling to keep up.  Arriving at the terrace overlook, the steps became muted as they diverted from the walkway to the grass, finally stopping as they reached the balustrade ensconcing the small garden.  The two unicorns, originators of the dance of hooves stared off into the twilight, their manes drifting in the light breeze, until one finally broke the silence.
"You're not happy, are you?" Corona was the first to speak.
"Eager, yes," Fletcher spat.  "Happy, no."
"I know what you're thinking.  Armor doesn't deserve command of this unit.  But you could at least give him the benefit of the doubt.  You owe it to him after Saraneighvo."
"Noted, but he's still the greenest LTC I've ever seen.  I don't care how much training he's had, Saraneighvo is one real data point out of hundreds needed to make a capable commander.  Did you see the way he twitched and sputtered at the mention of combat?"
"Yes.  But who can blame him?  Wouldn't you do the same if you were in his horseshoes?"
"No!  I was trained for this, Corona.  I have field experience, I have leadership experience, and I know what it's like to be in combat.  Armor doesn't.  He's been in combat once.  ONCE!"
"He also has a wife and a family, Fletcher.  Those are things he has to think about.  Not everyone is as free from the burden of attachment as you are."
Fletcher gritted his teeth.  Armor indeed had family: parents, a wife, and a sister if Fletcher remembered correctly.  Fletcher, on the other hoof, was not shackled by such "commitments."  Though she spoke nothing but the truth, Corona's words cut deeper than any knife of steel or aether.
"We're going to war, Corona," Fletcher countered.  "If Armor's head isn't in the game, we're done and so are they."
In spite of Fletcher's riposte, Corona was ready with an immediate counterattack.  "Funny you should say that after Saraneighvo."
"Things have changed since Saraneighvo, Corona," Fletcher snapped.  "This isn't about me.  This is about Equestria.  Fresh meat just got assigned to lead one of the REA's crack special operations teams.  This has disaster written all over it."
"Only you would let somepony dragging your flank out of the fire sour your relationship."
"No, Corona, I'm genuinely concerned," Fletcher growled, visibly agitated now at her continual needling.  "Armor may be a nice guy, but palace security is nothing compared to this.  This is WAR.  There are no second chances, no magical rainbow beams and god-princesses to save the day when you buck up.  He doesn't have the stones for actual wetwork.  I don't even know if he could kill a Griffon if it came down to it!"
"I seem to recall a time when a certain captain felt the same way."
"That certain captain is no more," Fletcher said quietly.
"And now this agent of REIN doesn't trust that officer of the REA to do his job."
"I know enough about Shining Armor to know he'll do his best.  He's the REA's poster boy after all.  But I can't accept 'his best.'  Only victory is acceptable.  Equestria depends on it."
"If you don't trust Armor, do you at least trust General Ironwing?"
The remark was enough to give Fletcher pause.  Ironwing was something of a father-figure to him — in the sense of a father who would scold a foal prone to fighting in the schoolyard while simultaneously being proud of him for winning those fights.  Ironwing imposed his will upon Fletcher to be sure, molding him into the stallion he was today.  But Ironwing also cultivated in him a nose for trouble — a talent that had gotten him both into and out of many jams.
"I trust Ironwing," he finally said.
"Then trust Armor.  If Ironwing thinks Armor has what it takes, you should defer to the General's judgment."
"We'll see," Fletcher snorted in contempt, doing an abrupt about-face before returning to the walkway.  "I'm headed to the ship.  I'll see you there."
************
The cold radiance of the aetherium lamp in the security chief's office cast hard, sharp shadows from the pool of milky white centered on his desk.  Less a security post and more an executive office, the chamber was graced with a spacious ceiling, warm colored walls, expansive bookshelves, and a large bay window with a full view of the valley below.  But in the night the ceiling was dark, the colors faded to shades of grey, and the window smattered with the ghostly form of a single pony's reflection.  Of in the distance, the faint glow of fires tinted the horizon blood red long after the sun had set and radiant bursts of gun flash punctured the darkening sky with lances of fierce brilliance.
Shining Armor closed his eyes and sighed.  He thought he'd been prepared to leave at a moment's notice, but some things never changed.  After being separated by crisis after crisis, Armor wished that just once he could spend some quality time with his wife.  With heavy heart, the colonel turned to face his desk, lifted the reciever from its cradle with his magic, and dialed the number.
One ring.  Two rings.  Three rings.
"Hello?"
The voice of Mi Amore Cadenza was nothing short of magical.  It was that voice that Shining Armor first fell in love with, but the rest of her proved just as enthralling.  Twilight always joked about how birds and butterflies followed along in her hoofsteps and how she did nothing but spread happiness and joy wherever she went.  While the former was obviously hyperbole, the latter wasn't terribly far from the truth.  Armor rejoiced every night he got to see her, touch her, and love her.
"Hey honey, it's Armor."
"Hey, lovely."  Armor could hear the smile in her voice and felt one of his own tugging at his lips.  "Let me guess, you're going to be late because of paperwork?"
"Listen, I..." Shining Armor stuttered.  It would hurt her.  He knew it would.  "I know I told you I'd be home soon, but new orders just came in.  We're shipping out tonight."
"Oh..." Cadence was audibly crestfallen.  With the fall of her voice, so fell Shining Armor's spirits.  "I'm so sorry, Armor..."
"Me, too..." Armor sighed.  "Listen, honey, I'll check back in when I can but I don't know when I'll have access to a telephone."
"Promise?"
"I promise," Armor replied solemnly.  "I have to go now.  The ship is waiting for me.  I love you."
"I love you, too," she whispered.  "Stay safe, mio amore."
Click.
With the call terminated, Shining Armor clicked the lamp off and lit his horn, the ghostly purple glow of aether brushing the walls of his office with soft shadow and softer light.  Lamenting his own departure would get him nowhere.  His wife had her job to do and he had his own.  They would be together again once they had completed their tasks.  Picking up his pack saddle, he slung the harness over his back, adjusting the heavy rucks laden with his uniform and pieces of kit.  The colonel took a deep breath, collecting himself before setting off.
It was time.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                        6. The Drop                        
//-------------------------------------------------------//
6. The Drop
The Drop
Canterlot nights were different.  The streets were once bustling with activity after dark, the cobbles lit by aetherium lamps as ponies from all over trotted about in the sights and sounds of the city of magic.  But no longer.  The shops were closed, the bars and restaurants nearly empty, all shutters drawn, with nary a light to be found.  The ancient city drifted in the night in silent repose, watched over only by the careful eyes of the Lunar Guard and the vigilance of the mountain batteries.
By contrast, the palace complex was well lit, presenting no place to hide for anypony.  Guards posted at nearly every door stood watch over washed out courtyards, empty corridors, and the steel lattice that formed the palace complex's private airship docks.  Few ships had the privilege of calling these docks home.  It took a very important ship indeed to clear the massive corridor of anti-aircraft guns, obelisks, and barrier engines that formed the defensive network for Canterlot Castle's inner sanctum.  Tonight, there was only one, a single middling-sized vessel docked in the first berth.
Shining Armor looked up as he walked, quietly observing the dockworkers at work doing final refits of the ship prior to departure.  Pegasi dashed back and forth on wing with blow torches and riveters, fixing spot welds and anchoring armor plate into position on the hull.  Unicorns slung armor plating into position to be welded or bolted in place.  Earth ponies hauled munitions and fuel pods on wheeled pallets into open cargo doors on the ship's ventral side.
This ship in particular was unique.  Its griffon origins were immediately evident in the design aesthetic: a prow resembling a raptor's beak, lean and aerodynamic lines, the clear wing motif on its rear stabilizers, and the feather-like layering of its sailframes against its hull.  Were it not for the emblem of the Equestrian sun and moon painted on its vertical stabilizer fins and the rearing alicorn flag flown from its radio mast, it could easily have been mistaken for an Aquellian scout ship.  A weathered sleekness lingered about the vessel, akin to a wizened athlete; a bit rough around the edges, but thrumming with barely-contained strength beneath.
Atop the airship's dorsal deck, Armor spotted the ominous silhouette of a single Equestrian gun-howitzer, a large-caliber cannon for both ship to ship combat and long-range fire support.  In sponsons on the ventral side of the aethergas reservoirs, sat smaller cannons in dual mounts, positioned for large fields of fire against ships and ground targets to the frigate's flanks.  Finally, in a single gun blister on the ventral spine rested the long, finned barrels of an autocannon cluster.
"Lieutenant Colonel Shining Armor?"
Shining Armor paused at the query, turning his head to address it.  The voice belonged to a ruddy red pegasus stallion, a bit shorter than Armor himself, but broad of shoulder and well-muscled.  White feathering adorned his fetlocks, the same color as his tail and mane, highlighted by the golden yellow of his pinion feathers.
"That's me.  To whom do I owe the pleasure?"
"Captain Sturmovik, VSK Artorius, sir," the captain smiled, extending a hoof to shake.
The stallion was obviously an aeronaut, judging by his flight jacket and watch cap.  The name was decidedly Stallian, as was the accent and the telnyashka that peeked out from under his flight jacket.  The colonel returned the shake firmly.  Anypony who made his home in the Northern Frontier Territory had be tough and likely respected those who were cut from similar cloth.  Armor wasn't about to disappoint.
"Good to meet you captain.  How does this evening find you?"
"As well as the war can find me, komandir."
"Me, too, captain.  Me, too," Armor echoed in agreement.  The colonel glanced up at the dock workers.  "Last minute preparations, I presume."
Sturmovik waved a hoof dismissively.  "I told Canterlot crew that my engineering team could handle overhaul on their own.  Canterlot dry dock workers obviously don't know how to work on Stallian engine; they take one look at internal systems and walk off the deck."
"You guys must have done a hay of a job down there."
"We are proud of our work, da," the captain nodded.  "We value what is inside the ship, just like we value what is inside pony."
"Glad to hear it.  Care to give me a walkaround of the ship?"
"My pleasure, colonel.  Seeing as you will be spending much time on ship, you should get to know her well."  Sturmovik began ambling around the U-shaped dock, slowly trotting towards the prow of the ship.  "I tell Canterlot crew they only need to give us guns and ammunition and they decide to give my ship bath and new paint job!"
"Standard procedure when requisitioning a new vessel for Equestrian use."
"Yes, yes.  Still much bureaucratic chepuka, horseapples, you know?"
"More than I'd like to," Armor chuckled.  "I used to work palace security before they put me up for this.  If that wasn't bureaucratic horseapples, I don't know what is."
"She runs using Razorclaw turbine engines; top of the line," Sturmovik detailed, waving a free hoof towards the airship's stern.  "We use turbine for electrical power generation and running the props.  Much more efficient than pistons."
Armor nodded in acknowledgement.  "I presume you've already been briefed on the mission?"
"Da.  The General offered his sincerest apologies for appropriating my ship, even giving us gun crews for newly installed weapons.  But I told him if it gets us home faster, he was welcome to appropriate my crew as well."
"Home to Stalliongrad.  Are you VSS?"
"Nyet.  Stallian merchant marine.  We've done plenty of runs for VSS, though.  I probably have had more soldiers on my ship than most Stallian warships."  Sturmovik stopped for a moment, pointing to the array of propellor nacelles protruding from the ship's airframe.  "Six props total.  Four propulsion to the rear and two on canards to the front for maneuvering.  Very fast, very agile.  I used to bring her through mountain passes on way to Talonopolis to save time."
"I'm sure she was the star of her fleet before the war."
"Indeed," the captain assented.  "Standard armor plate.  Protects against small arms and heavy machine gun fire, but will not stand up to sabot or HE-AA."
"I'd like to avoid any enemy fire if at all possible.  The Artorius is going to be my home for the next couple weeks so I'd rather keep it in one piece."  Armor chuckled.  Resuming his trot, the colonel continued.  "How did you manage to escape the storm?"
"We didn't.  We were laying over in Hoofington when news of the storm hit.  Next thing we know we are receiving dispatch to Canterlot and here we are."
"Always happens that way it seems."
"Da.  But could be worse.  I could be freezing my flank off outside Stalliongrad.  Poor Aquellian svoloch.  Frozen scum." The captain snorted at the epithet before gesturing towards the Artorius' armaments.  "We have 122 millimeter gun-howitzer for big targets, 57 millimeter for ship to ship, and .52-caliber repeaters for ground targets.  This is enough guns to handle small ship or ground forces, but not enough to deal with dreadnaught or cruiser."
"I don't anticipate going up against a dreadnaught any time soon,"  Armor replied, glancing to each artillery piece as the captain listed them off.  "Have you heard back from Stalliongrad?"
"Nyet.  All radio traffic in and out of the Frontier has ceased."  Sturmovik paused, turning his gaze towards a group of pegasi struggling to move a bit of armor plate into place on the exterior of one of the Artorius' aethergas reservoirs.  "Just a week ago, my crew and I were hoping to return home, but now it appears that is not an option."
"You have my condolences, captain," Armor empathized.  "Everypony wants to return home.  The sooner we end this war, the sooner we can do that.  We've barely started and I'm sick of it already."
"Of course." The captain said solemnly.  "Tell me, komandir, have you ever been in combat?"
"Once.  A few years ago."
"It changes a pony.  You begin to realize things you never did before."
"Like how precious life is and how easily it's snuffed out?"
"No, like all the vodka you'd be missing if you didn't come home from mission!" the captain laughed.  Shining Armor only managed an awkward half-smile in response.
"Listen, colonel," Sturmovik softened his voice, turning his head so he could look Shining Armor straight in the eye.  "There is war on, but that does not mean you need to spend every waking moment thinking about it.  You are pony!  Remember that.  We ponies are at our best when together and happy about it!"
"Thanks, captain," Shining Armor sighed.  "I'll be sure to remember that.  Shall I call off the dry dock crew?"
"Nyet.  They seem to be finishing up on their own.  I would recommend getting back on board, though.  We will be leaving shortly."
"Glad we had this talk, captain."
"As am I," Sturmovik nodded.  "This is my ship, Colonel Armor.  It is my job to ensure that anypony who sets hoof on her makes it back alive.  But to bring them back alive, I must first make sure they are willing to be brought back alive."
"Much appreciated."
"I will be on bridge to begin startup.  Good night to you, colonel."
************
The harsh glow of aetherium lamps cast sterile white light upon the ready room.  Dull blue anodized mesh lockers lined the chamber, running from bulkhead to bulkhead, each bearing the name of the soldier whose gear occupied it.  Wooden benches rising from metal grating via pylons gave plenty of space for holding gear being donned or doffed.  At the back, however was the focal point of the ready room, a wooden table with surface roughened from years of use, marred by tacks and slipshod lacquer jobs in an effort to preserve its usefulness.  All members of Tacitus huddled around the staging table, upon which was pinned a map of the area of operations.
"Several weeks ago, a team of scientists began work on a cure for Celestia in the town of Foalton," Shining Armor began.  "Because of the sensitive nature of the project, a clandestine lab was established under the Foalton clinic where their research was conducted.  When the invasion began, we lost contact with the scientists."
The colonel pointed to a red 'x' on the map near the center of the town.  "Thirteen hours ago, we recieved a coded radio transmission from within the town center, indicating that the scientists had gone to ground and were awaiting pickup.  They are safe, which is the first good news we've heard in weeks."
Armor then proceeded to trace an imaginary circle around the border of the town with a hoof.  "The only problem is that the Griffons got to Foalton first.  REIN says they're waiting for a psychological operations team to come process the villagers for intel.  Feathernecks don't know what they've stumbled upon yet.  I don't know about you, but I'd like to keep it that way."
"This will be a simple extraction mission."  The colonel levitated a pencil out of his combat tunic pocket and traced a set of arrows on the map.  "Berkut team deployed as of 0330 this morning and will provide us with cloud and rain cover for the duration of the operation."
"The Artorius will drop us off here."  The colonel put his hoof on the edge of the map, sliding it over to their insertion point southeast of the village.  "We will air drop into the forest to the southeast of the town then proceed to infiltrate the perimeter and make for the panic room.  Once we make contact with the scientists, we will exfiltrate to the northeast.  Myrmidon flight will meet us there with the runabout for extraction.  Questions?"
"How do we know we've found the scientists and not a griffon ambush?" Corona was the first to respond.
"Our challenge is 'icepick,' countersign 'phoenix.'  Anything else and you have full authorization to breach, bang, and clear.  If we can't recover the science team alive, we'll make do with their notes."
"Expected resistance?" Fletcher asked, tapping his hoof on the table.
"Berkut reports a single platoon, 40 or so marines," Armor replied.  "The griffons are positioned in a cordon circle around Foalton's limits with a few fire teams patrolling within the village itself.  Once we penetrate the perimeter, it should be easy to avoid the patrols."
"Equipment and arms?" Acclaim asked, raising a hoof.  "Any heavy weapons we need to watch out for?"
"Looks like a reconnaissance unit, lightly armed.  They came in ahead of the main force so they don't have heavy weapons.  Berkut reports all standard-issue weapons: ArK rifles, revolvers, and a few Aquila carbines.  So just regulars; no spec ops."
"What about the villagers?" Bones asked.
Shining Armor paused.  Their mission was priority.  Even if the village burned to the ground and every villager with it, they would have to get those scientists out of Foalton.  But Ironwing's words still rang in Armor's head.  Regardless of the outcome, we can't afford to let the war consume us.
"Our primary objective is to extract the scientists.  We will focus on that first," Armor finally answered.  "But we will attempt to free the villagers and direct them to safe refuge, time and mission permitting."
"And the griffons?" Fletcher spoke again, his eyes now focused on Shining Armor rather than the map.
It was a test.  It had to be.  Since they had been assembled, Fletcher had little enthusiasm for Armor's command.  While the former operator had said nothing of his thoughts, Armor was more than adept at reading body language.  The way the former captain carried himself and addressed him was a dead giveaway that he didn't approve.  But Shining Armor had dealt with enough ornery cadets and cooler denizens to know that he was not about to be intimidated by a bad attitude.
"Avoid contact if possible," Armor said, returning Fletcher's unflinching gaze.  "Killing attracts atention and we don't want to attract attention.  Ideally we'll be in and out without ever being seen."
His piece complete, Shining Armor put both his front hooves on the table, looking each team member in the eye.  "Anything else?"
Silence was the only response.
"Good.  Suit up."
************
The locker labeled LTC S. ARMOR clacked and creaked as it magically unlatched and swung open to reveal Shining Armor's pack saddle and plate carrier.  Other lockers down the line clinked and clanked under either manual or magical manipulation.  SSG S. BONES.  SFC ACCLAIM.  AGT FLETCHER.  AGT C. BOREALIS.  Canvas zipped against canvas.  Tempered steel plate clanked against ceramic scales and cold-rolled metal hardware.
A plate carrier floated out of Shining's locker borne on glowing aether.  Shining Armor was well-acquainted with the Equestrian combat utility uniform.  In wartime, it was the standard dress of all soldiers from the lowest private to the highest general.  Desk jobs, however, did not often come with body armor.  The colonel snorted as he pulled the armor carrier over his head, resting it upon his uniform jacket.  Cumbersome?  Perhaps.  Necessary?  Assuredly.
"Bones, can I get your honest opinion?"  Armor said to his friend as he cinched the straps down.
"What's the craic, colonel?"  Bones was occupied in donning his own combat armor, but his ear remained cocked inquisitively towards Armor.
Shining Armor hesitated a moment before answering.  "What's up with Fletcher?"
"Don't know, sir," Bones shrugged.  "Why don't you ask him?"
Armor narrowed his eyes.  "If I'd thought that would have done anything I would have done it back in Canterlot.  He's a tough nut to crack and I need a second opinion."
"He's a cynic, sir, I can tell that much."
"I gathered.  After Saraneighvo, I didn't think I'd ever see him again, but here we are."
"Funny how that works, isn't it?"
"He's professional, still got that edge about him.  The briefing proved that.  But something about him doesn't sit right with me.  Every time he looks at me, it feels like he's ready to shoot me in the face."
"I wasn't aware you two had built up animosity over the years."
"Neither was I."
"Use that ROTC-educated brain of yours, colonel!"
Shining Armor did little more than roll his eyes at the interjection.  Acclaim had sauntered up during conversation, butting in at Armor's momentary pause.  The colonel stole a quick glance at Fletcher and Corona at the far end of the ready room.  They conversed quietly, entirely inaudible over the drone of the ship's engines.  If they'd overheard, they weren't letting on.
"He was obviously expecting to be in charge of this horseapples outfit and he wasn't," she continued.  "Simple as that!"
"Nothing's ever simple, sergeant," Armor mumbled a response.
By the time he'd finished donning his armor, the colonel found the entirety of his team waiting expectantly.  Taking a deep breath, he waved them towards the deployment bay.  The troop fell in behind Armor, marching out the hatch in single file into the next compartment.
The deployment bay was less a livable compartment than an interstitial space with sections of hull that could fold away to allow ingress and egress.  The red alert lamps cast their ominous glow upon the members of Tacitus team as they lined up on on the deck, glinting off their armor and dulling their coats in sickly crimson radiance.  A goggled pegasus, the jumpmaster for the ship, saluted Armor as he approached.  The colonel returned the salute before turning back to face his team.
"Tacitus," the jumpmaster shouted above the drone of engines.  "Check radio!"
Corona turned back towards her radio pack, twisting a few dials and tapping on her PTT switch.  "Artorius control, this is Tacitus.  Radio check, over."
"This is Artorius control.  We read you five by five," came the reply from the Artorius' radiomare.
"Understood, control.  Tacitus standing by for jump."  Corona tapped her hoof on the deck before shouting, "Radio's good!"
"Check slow fall spells!" came the jumpmaster's voice again.
"Slowfall spells!" Shining Armor repeated.
The colonel lit his horn, leafing through his mental inventory of spells and selecting the correct one.  The glow of turned bright green as he flicked his horn, sending the energy pulse cascading across his body.  For a moment, Armor felt light as a feather, almost like he was going to drift upwards away from the deck.  But within moments he was back on all fours.  Checking his kit, Armor noted that the hologlyphs floating near his armor now glowed green, indicating that the spell was primed and ready.  Looking over his shoulder, Armor saw Fletcher and Corona performing the same spell.  Shining Armor turned to Bones.
"Ach," the earth pony snorted.  "Couldn't we have done this with parachutes instead?"
"Less messy this way, Bones," Shining Armor chuckled as he applied the slow fall spell to his friend's kit.  "Ironwing wanted quick in and quick out, so we opted to use spells."
"Doesn't make me any more comfortable with falling a thousand feet..."
"Could've asked the princess to give you wings before we left!" Acclaim quipped.  Raising her voice above the wind and engine noise, Acclaim did a poor impression of Stone Bones' accent.  "I'm Princess Stone Bones, are you a princess, too?  My wings are so pretty!"
"You can keep 'em, Featherfluff!  I like my hooves firmly on the ground!"
"You'll get over it, big guy!" Armor grinned, patting Bones' plate carrier.  Shouting to the jumpmaster, Armor announced, "Slow fall spells ready!"
"Five mikes to DZ!" the jumpmaster announced.
Shining Armor nodded to the jumpmaster before addressing his team.  "Simple mission, team.  Keep your wits about you and everything will be fine.  Hooah?"
"Hooah!" came the reply once again.
"And may Celestia Invictus smile upon us," Armor mumbled the ancient blessing.
Armor wasn't much for superstition, but if he said he wasn't nervous about this mission, he'd be lying.  It was the first combat he'd seen since Saraneighvo and his troops were counting on him to make the right calls.  The colonel took a deep breath.  Now was not time to choke.  They had a war to fight.
"Thirty seconds!" the jumpmaster shouted.
The hull doors opened, buffeting everypony in the deployment bay with high altitude wind and spraying them with the fine mist of stormclouds and falling rain.  The weather control squadron had outdone themselves.  Outside was nothing but grey-white cloudcover, large enough to hide the Artorius and thick enough to obscure a few ponies dropping in close to the perimeter.  Armor's tail twitched in anticipation.
"Fifteen seconds!"
As they approached, a small space opened up in the cloud cover below them, giving Armor a clear view into a meadow amid the forest surrounding Foalton.
"Five!"
Four.  Three.  Two.  One.
"Go!  Go!  Go!" the jumpmaster shouted above the wind, waving his hoof to signal the team.
Tacitus filed out the deployment door, kicking off the ramp and splaying their legs out to maintain control as they went into freefall.  The team linked up as they fell, forming a five-pointed star with their bodies.  Acclaim tapped her helm to get Armor's attention.  In response, Armor tapped at his head with a hoof before making the "move out" gesture with his hoof.  Acclaim grinned.  The pegasus spread her wings, peeling off from the formation and banking into a steep dive that left thin cloudy wisps behind her.  The vortex trails twisted and dissipated in the blowing wind and rain, slowly vanishing as Acclaim traced a wide loop around the DZ, establishing an orbit from which to overwatch the rest of the team as they landed.
Combat jumps would never, ever, get old.  The rush of wind flying through his mane and the alien sensation of freefall was at once exciting and terrifying, especially with somepony such as himself not being gifted with wings.  Looking down below, the meadow was rapidly approaching and the ticking noise emitted by the slow fall spell gradually sped up until it finally coalesced into a single ringing tone.  Armor felt a jerk on his plate carrier as the slow fall spell kicked in fully, deccelerating him as he approached the ground.
The lower he fell, the slower he went.  Armor put his hooves down to landing position, his body stopping just short of impact.  The spell glow and the loud humming reached its climax before finally falling off, leaving Armor to drop to his hooves the last few inches of his descent.    Armor's heart still pounded in his chest, but he quietly breathed a sigh of relief.  He was on the ground again — safe.
THUNK.  THUNK.  Fletcher and Corona both landed a few meters away, managing to stay on their hooves as they landed.  Bones was not so lucky.  The earth pony giant landed on uneven footing, his front hooves catching on a concealed depression, sending him tumbling as he hit the ground.  Armor rushed over to his friend, offering a hoof.
"Get up, Bones.  We can sleep when we're back on the ship!"
"But this was so comfortable!" the sergeant groaned in jest.  Bones hooked his fetlock into Armor's, allowing him to be pulled back on his feet.
Suddenly, a flash of yellow crossed Shining Armor's view.  Acclaim had returned.  The night guard banked hard into the wind, flaring her wings and gently touching down on the field.  Catching her eye, Armor made the "move out" hoof motion towards the tree line.  Silently, the team made their way out of the meadow and into tree cover.
"Rally up," Armor said as soon as they were within the forest proper.  Tacitus formed a tight, outrward-facing circle, all eyes scanning the woods for threats while keeping their ears peeled for orders.  "Sound off."
"Fletcher."
"Corona."
"Acclaim."
"Bones."
"Everypony up?" Armor queried.
"Got a bit scratched up back there," Bones whispered, "But I'll live."
"Good.  We need you on your hooves."  The colonel replied.  Armor turned and tapped his team flier on the shoulder.  "Acclaim, SITREP."
"Area looked clear, boss.  No feathernecks near the DZ.  They seem to have settled in pretty comfortably around the town proper."
"Understood.  Corona!  Get me the Artorius."
"Artorius, this is Tacitus, how copy, over?" Corona whispered into the wireless set.
"Artorius reads you five by five," came the dispatcher's reply.  "Send traffic, over."
"Wireless is live, sir," Corona said, handing off the auxilliary set to Armor.
Shining Armor grabbed the set from Corona with his magic, holding the radiotelephone apparatus to his ear.  "Artorius, this is Tacitus Actual.  SITREP: We have hooves on the ground and are proceeding to target, over."
"Understood, Tacitus.  Be advised, Berkut team is on standby with combat weather control, over."
"Roger that, Artorius.  We'll keep you posted.  Tacitus, out."  Armor took lead of the formation, pointing them towards the town.  "Target is half a klick northwest of our position.  We're on the clock, so let's hustle.  Move out, Tacitus!"

//-------------------------------------------------------//
           7. Interlude: The Voice of Equestria            
//-------------------------------------------------------//
7. Interlude: The Voice of Equestria
The Voice of Equestria
Interlude
My friends, I want to take a few minutes to talk to the citizens of Equestria about the war.  Equestria is a peaceful land, her policy both foreign and domestic guided by the philosophy of Harmony.  I recognize that it is indeed a troubling time for our nation.  Our peace has been disrupted.  Our homes burned to the ground.  Our families splintered.  Our harmony all but lost.  War has indeed come upon us.
The current conflict needs no introduction, but its root causes and the Equestrian government's actions to preserve our nation in the face of it deserves explanation.  I owe this to the fortitude and good temper with which the citizens of Equestria have endured the materials rationing, the flights from encroaching battle fronts, and the hardships experienced by a nation at war.  I know that when you understand the causes of this crisis, I shall continue to have your cooperation as fully as I have had your sympathy and help during the past months.
Those who follow politics are well aware of the leadership situation in Aquellia, the land of the Griffons.  Aiden Razorclaw, the late prime minister of Aquellia, left a power vacuum in the wake of his untimely passing; a vacuum which was eventually filled by the Aquellian Nationalist Party.  Valerian Titanclaw, the nationalist candidate, was elected the leader of Aquellia by majority vote. While we did not expect Valerian to become the head of state, we gave him a chance, as we should for all prospective leaders.  It is the Equestrian way.
Unfortunately, as is often the case in statecraft, Valerian's ideas of what was right and good for his people conflicted with what we believed to be right and good for our people.  While diplomacy is the preferred method of resolving conflicts of interest, in this case, the differences were too great to permit a peaceful resolution.  Thus, with a heavy heart, Equestria committed to war.
As tragic as this turn of events is, it should be remembered that war is an implement of the state, not the citizen.  It is not in our nature to hold hate in our hearts against the citizens of Aquellia.  Instead, it is up to us to hold compassion and resolve, even for our adversaries on the battlefield.  I do not hate the Griffons, for the citizens of Aquellia have done me no wrong.  Instead, I pity them for the decisions their leaders have made and hope that they will soon realize the price that we all pay for this war.
What, then, drove the Aquellian leadership to make the decisions that they did?  As most of you well know, the Griffons are a proud people, passionately patriotic and fiercely loyal to their families and friends.  There is no question that they would rise up to defend their nation if there was ever a threat to her.  Because of the strength of the Equestrian state, the prevalence of Equestrian culture, and the commitment to showing the strength of Harmony both at home and abroad, the Aquellian Nationalists saw Equestria as a grave threat to not just their security, but themselves.  Nowhere is a Griffon more ardent than in defending his or her identity as a Griffon.  These are fundamental conflicts of interest; complex and difficult to resolve.  They can only be overcome by the willingness to negotiate and reach an acceptable compromise, a step that the Aquellian administration was unwilling to do, the end result being the crisis that exists today.
I do not promise you that this conflict will be without loss.  Bloodshed and material damages are inevitable in full-scale war.  But I can promise you that the REA is doing everything in its power to safeguard the ponies of Equestria.  Citizens are being evacuated from towns and villages in the way of potential battle zones and efforts are being made to keep civilians from being caught in the crossfire.
Even as they continue to fight, the REA does its best to minimize collateral damage.  We are not savages.  We do not delight in wanton destruction and senseless slaughter.  We show compassion to refugees displaced by the fighting.  We accord Griffon prisoners proper food, housing, and medical care so that they might return to their homes after the war and tell of our compassion even for our enemies.  We show the best of ourselves even in the worst of times.
It has been wonderful for me to catch the note of confidence from all across Equestria.  I am forever grateful to the ponies of Equestria for their loyal support of Luna and myself in this time of tribulation.  After all, there is more to winning this war than guns, steel, and magic.  Courage and compassion are essential in securing victory, not just over the invading army, but over the circumstances that led to this war.  Equestria will stand strong in the face of adversity.  We will show the world that we can endure any trial, face any foe, and see each other through any crisis.  Harmony will prevail.
To quote the words of the olden hymn, 'a circle of friends we'll be to the very end.'  As friends, as representatives of Harmony, we stand fast together.  And together we cannot fail.
This is Councilor Mi Amore Cadenza with the Voice of Equestria, signing off.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                       8. The Lancet                       
//-------------------------------------------------------//
8. The Lancet
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—"