History of the Lunar War
By Sleepybrain
I
The bitter wind whipped through the tattered Equestrian flag, the once-vibrant image of the Royal sisters now worn to a dull, dreary gray. The storm, as every colonist knew, never ended. It only wavered in its intensity from time to time. As it happened, this was one of the milder times of day (a relative, almost archaic term that only applied temporally, here), a time when freight and supply shipments were scheduled to arrive.
The airship's wake intensified the wind around the colony, the flag threatening to break free. The machine was only five years old at the most, but its rusting copper flanks already seemed to be many decades senior to its well-kept, steel-bladed wings. The wings now spread for drag as its legs unfolded from its belly with a creaking whine and the faint whirring sound of its magic-sensitive core; a subtle sound nearly inaudible over the raging blizzard's din.
Steadfast Chrome, a stocky pegasus stallion, smiled slightly under his scarf. Decked head-to-hoof in protective gear, he could have easily been mistaken for a jury-rigged automaton; especially due to the large, tinted goggles he wore to keep the wind from damaging his eyes.
The airship was now steadily planted on the landing pad, its core whirring to a halt at the same instant its anterior hatch slid open. Its crew of half-a-dozen ponies began their work of unloading its cargo and moving it to the heavy lift. As they moved to-and-fro about their various tasks, one more pony stepped casually down the ramp; a mare, very slight and small. Steadfast knew, however, that this said nothing of her personality or her ability to defend herself; not only was she extremely powerful in certain areas of magical manipulation, she was also wiry enough to take down the average colt with a buck or two.
Steadfast grinned to himself as he trotted toward her, unable to keep from smiling as he saluted her. “Captain,” he said over his built-in radio.
She returned the salute with her own, her small voice replying, “Superintendent.”
For a moment they regarded each other in silence, and despite the heavy garb both wore, they each knew the other was grinning. Finally the two laughed, sharing in a fond hug.
“It's good to see you, Steady,” the unicorn sighed, releasing him.
“You too. But hey, you're fifty seconds late, you know. I'm gonna have to write you up.”
She punched his shoulder, chuckling. “You liar. I'm always on time.”
He shook his head, “Nuh-uh. Can't fool the chronometer, Trigger,” he tapped his goggles lightly with one hoof. “Precise timing. My job here.”
She scoffed, the two beginning to walk toward the lift. “Fine. How about I buy ya a drink and we call it even?”
“Oh, bribery then? Keep this up and it's gonna be the brig for you.”
She laughed, punching him again, “Oh, you really need to shut up.”
In the year C.R. 1403, certain ponies had become restless. They looked around them, and saw more of the same thing; their world had lost some of its former magic. Specifically, one earth pony by the name of Horizon had reached adulthood without finding her true purpose, and looked on her bare flank with an equal longing as when she looked to the sky. Coming from a wealthy family, she gathered a group of like-minded ponies, their goal seemingly unattainable: to colonize the moon. Ten years later, that the dream was finally realized, and an expedition in a fully-functional craft was launched. What the team found was nothing less than miraculous: a world as rich in natural resources and raw materials as it was hostile and lethal.
The first colony, named Port Horizon, quickly became an economic boon, harvesting raw materials and shipping them back to Equestria. Daring ponies from across the land jumped at the opportunity of a new frontier. A new age had dawned, and things were brighter than ever for citizens of Equestria.
Three years and twenty Equestrian colonies later, an amazing discovery was made; ponies from the mining colony Mare's Eye Beta uncovered a strange metal ore that, for all intents and purposes, carried a permanent and seemingly undying charge of pure, raw magical energy. It wasn't long before every major faction in the world got news of this wonder-metal, dubbed Arcanium, and the nations began constructing their own craft to stake their claim. The Zebras were the first, with their strange, angular vehicles made from onyx. The Gryphons quickly followed suite with their own craft, through collaboration with pegasus engineers.
Relations went smoothly between the colonies, until the Gryphons became too ambitious for their own good. They encroached upon Equestrian territory with increasing aggressiveness, certain independent parties even resorting to raiding pony mining colonies, all because of one rumour that had begun to spread:
The supply of Arcanium is dwindling.
To this day, the risk of war has loomed, ever present, tenuous threads of peace threatening to snap at any moment. Colonies remain on constant guard for raids and sabotage.
There have not been any known casualties recorded as of yet.
Then again, this could simply be the start of the history of the Lunar War.
II
Port Horizon, being the first Lunar colony, was a bustling hub of activity. While Steadfast occasionally missed the fresh air and plush clouds of his birthplace, he believed he would never call another place home but this. He never tired of the constant activity, the teeming energy, the feel of the well-worn grating under his hooves. The draft was a bit much, he would concede, but that's nothing a coat wouldn't fix; and since a coat was part of his standard uniform, that was never a problem. He trotted alongside Hair Trigger, the gray unicorn disregarding the unique scenery in exchange for putting her attentions on the blue-coated pegasus beside her.
“And just what're you looking at?”
She looked away, smirking to herself as the two rounded the corner into the entrance of the port's canteen, the Miner's Boon. “Nothing. It's just been, what, two months?”
“Four. Four months.”
She blinked, surprised. “Four? Wow. Four months, then, since we last saw each other. And you still haven't done anything with your stupid mane.”
He sighed as they approached the bar, nodding at the bartender, an aging unicorn who nodded knowingly, the nonverbal request conveying Steadfast's meaning perfectly, and he began to prepare their drinks.
“I told you,” the pegasus said, looking up toward his messy, frizzed black hair. “There's nothing I can do about it. The storms blow it around.”
“Whatever. I still think that's a pretty weakass excuse.” The bartender set their drinks before them, and Steadfast thanked him, pointedly ignoring Trigger's remark. “Anyway, since you're obviously gonna be stubborn, how've things been around here? I mean... things must be pretty hectic, right? With the... situation?”
He blinked, setting down his drink slowly. “How'd you know?”
She shrugged, smiling through her embarrassment. “Word gets back to the mainland faster than you'd think, especially in the circles I run with.” They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks. The bar was unusually quiet for this time of night. Trigger spoke up again, “Is it true, though? Is the Arcanium starting to run out?”
He sighed, biting his bottom lip. “There's... nothing to substantiate it at this point. The whole thing was started from a message we got from an establishment over the Mane Range. Just some mildly startling readings, really. Unstable seismic activity and the like, and a void they hit. Probably just a misinterpretation.”
Trigger raised an eyebrow, detecting a nuance of uncertainty in his voice. “Probably. You don't buy that, do you?”
“It doesn't matter what I buy, Trigger. I just keep things running here, I'm not a colonial administrator.”
“But you do have an opinion. An opinion that colonial administration wouldn't like, I take it?”
He sighed, looking at her with exasperation. “In my personal, off-record opinion, the whole thing is just propaganda to push us into colonizing the Dark Side.”
She scoffed, turning back to her drink, swishing it thoughtfully with her magic. “Extremists have been lobbying for that since the start of the business. What makes you think one rumour's gonna change that?”
“I don't think one rumour will. But I think it's pretty suspicious how close this thing is to the gryphon's increased aggression.”
She shook her head, her ice-blue mane falling into her eyes. “You, my friend, sound like a conspiracy-obsessed colt again. Thought you got over this crap back in highschool?”
“This is different, Trigger. Serious. We're out here in uncharted waters. The last thing we need is some 'mix up' starting a war.”
The two sat in silence for a long moment. The silence had almost a forced emptiness to it, as if the two were attempting to clear something from the air. “War” was not a word that a pony tossed around lightly, for it was a dreaded word that represented everything the unified races had fought so hard to destroy forever. It was plainly obvious to everypony paying attention, however, that things seemed to have been going far too well in the past few years. Peace between the races, or so it appeared on the surface. Bountiful food supplies and thriving culture. Everypony in Equestria lived a well-rounded life, more or less, even ponies with more menial jobs such as the garbage ponies or rock farmers.
There was only one thing missing in all this; progress. Advancement. The last technological advance, in fact, had been three hundred years ago at the start of the post-Classical Era (rapidly coming to be known as the Golden Age) was the steam engine. It had changed the face of commerce forever, but some viewed it as the reason Equestrian society had tapered off into such a well-leveled society it was at the time.
But now this new frontier of lunar exploration had reared its head. A minority of speculators had been protesting it for years, now, saying that ponykind was not ready to make such leaps yet, that they were rushing into it all headfirst with no regard for political and economic ramifications. But, they were not an especially vocal minority, and were largely ignored.
But it still lingered in everypony's mind, that small inkling of fear. A fear that perhaps they were right; that progress needed to be halted or at the very least slowed, or else they may very well have a conflict on their hooves.
Steadfast cleared his throat, breaking the silence finally. “So... how are things planetside?”
Trigger raised an eyebrow, looking at him oddly. “Uh... nothing that you wouldn't have heard about on the radio...”
He chuckled in response, shaking his head. “No, I meant with you. How's your dad? Any better?”
She blushed slightly, looking into her drink. “O-oh... well, yeah. He's doing a lot better, actually. He's up and walking again, although he's still pretty weak. He's living at the shop with my sister.” She smiled up at Steadfast proudly. “There may be better magic casters, but nopony's got anything on my dad when it comes to watchmaking.”
He grinned. “Good to hear. Seems almost too good to be true.” He sipped his drink. “Few years ago everypony thought Unicorn Blight was terminal. Low chance of survival.”
“Don't remind me. He was only diagnosed the year they discovered the treatment. It took a whole month for it to get approved, and that whole time we thought dad wouldn't live to see the next year.”
“I recall. That was when you almost dropped out of Transit Commission training.”
She winched slightly. “How about we go back to politics and conspiracies? As a lighter topic change, ya know?”
He bit his lip, chuckling nervously. “Heh, yeah... probably not the best direction to turn a conversation in.” He put his hoof up to his temple, sighing exasperatedly. “I forgot, I've got the manifest to check in tonight, still. All that bucking paperwork... I wish I could do it all drunk, but it requires a certain level of clarity.” He moved away from the bar, hastily wrestling a few bits from his vest pocket and depositing them on the counter. “Sorry to cut this short...”
“No, no. It's fine, I understand.”
“Thanks, Trigger. I'll catch up with you later, yeah?”
She nodded as he moved toward the exit. “Sure thing. See ya, Steadfast.”
With that, he left the cantina, leaving Hair Trigger alone at the bar. Practically everypony else had cleared out, and it seemed to be later in the day than it felt. She remembered that the lunar clock was roughly four hours ahead of the standard Equestrian timezone; a fact that she never could get used to. She barely noticed as the bartender trotted up, noting her empty glass and asking her if she needed anything else. She smiled and declined politely.
“I should probably find my new quarters, anyway,” she explained.
“Stayin' on a little longer this time, Miss Trigger?”
She nodded. “Yep. New power units came in with the shipment. Got about a week tops while they install it. Higher-ups don't wanna make two runs, so I gotta stay while they work on it.”
“I see. Well, you need any help findin' your place, y'oughta talk to Chick.”
She frowned. “That's the security chief, right?”
“Yes indeed. Keeps to herself, but she knows her way 'round.”
“Hm. Why's she keep to herself? Shy or something?”
He chuckled. “I'm pretty sure that question'll answer itself when you meet the gal. Let's jus' say there are some who'd object to havin' one such as her on the station.”
