Wormholers

Solace. A glowing white ball of a planet, situated on the outer fringes of the Geller system, one of the very first defences the system had. It was a world with only one defining feature: the fortress. Standing high on the snow covered plains the world was dominated by, and being made of brilliant white steel, the fortress was an ugly, yet beautiful spire of military power. With its large, pin like tower stretching to the sky, acres upon acres of buildings of varying purpose surrounding it like a city, and a circular wall protecting it for miles around, it was a sight to be feared. It housed hundreds of thousands of soldiers within its metre thick walls, and had a space port big enough to hold spacecraft that could carry the planet’s population twice over. It was a shining torch to the craft of man, an almost indestructible fortress defended by revolutionary energy barriers and maintained by some of the greatest soldiers and technicians the legion had ever known. Not to mention the raw power the fortress possessed, in the form of both weaponry and strategic knowledge and its perfect camouflage.

The day was a normal one, and began as such, with a blaring voice booming out of mega-speakers all through the Fortress-city as the sun rose. The message was different for every district of the city, but it had the same base message: get up and report to your station. Men from every district of the city emerged from their barracks and marched sleepily towards their stations. Some men marched towards the walls, getting ready to man one of the gates allowing exit or entrance of the city, or to maintain the automated weapon systems that monitored activity around the gate. Not that there was ever much to see, but it was good practice. Some men walked to the place where things may actually have been seen, the great spire and its observatories.  Spending hours upon hours searching the sky for any craft, threat or not and logging the time seen and the direction heading. Tireless work, but worth it to protect an entire system containing hundreds of planets.

The rest of the population milled within the city doing whatever it was they did on their time off rotation on patrol or training exercises.

Normally the streets contained one or two people running from building, carrying various pieces of equipment, weapons, or, most likely, fuel tanks to keep heaters going.

The planet was a frozen land, and nothing natural lived on the surface. So, normally, the soldiers never saw any action within the base. Everything was out in space or on other worlds.

Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened, on a normal day.

“Well, this isn’t exactly ideal.”

Today was not a normal day.

In one of the million snow laden streets of the city, four intruders stood, surrounded by several armed guardsmen.

The guardsmen were quite confused… Actually, incredibly confused.

Not only were there intruders within their base… Actual physical intruders on a world of death, ice and within their impenetrable fortress. If the fact that their seemingly impenetrable fortress had been penetrated without anyone even knowing wasn’t bad enough, the guardsman who had been first on the scene had claimed they appeared out of thin air. So, there they stood, back to back covering all directions, shivering in the freezing cold. The soldiers nervously and confusedly standing around them examined them.

One of them stood shifting the aim of a very powerful looking rifle between several men, who pointed rifles of their own back, looking tiny in comparison. He wore a jet black boiler suit, which hung loosely from his body and was rather tattered. His clothes were more than enough protection though, as they had several rather thick, dull grey metal plates attached to them on every possible surface. Not much of the black could be seen; it looked more like he was wearing a suit of solid metal like a medieval knight. The only part of him that was relatively exposed was his head, for he lacked a helmet like some of the others wore. He looked old and beaten, with his facial skin a tattered mess of scar tissue from long healed wounds. His dark blue eyes glew like new within his face of ruined skin, and were the only relatively normal feature on the man’s ruined, shaven head.  The soldiers couldn’t tell who exactly this man was, but they could tell he was a fan of very heavy weapons, as they examined the large calibre shells feeding into the gun.

Another of the group, the one who had spoken, had a more obvious affinity for technology. He stood a little shorter than the rest, but was no less intimidating to the soldiers. He pointed a shotgun at one of the soldiers examining him, but it wasn’t held by an arm of flesh and bone. His entire left arm was a bulky bionic replacement of dull iron and brass. Most of it was covered by the thick, grey riot gear he wore over his torso and legs, but enough was visible to be noticed. Frost was forming on the arm, but it didn’t seem to faze the figure. His bionic replacements didn’t end there though. Not only was his left arm a bionic replica, both of his legs were the same solid metal skeletons, as were both of his eyes. Sitting in the eye sockets were things that were clearly not organic. Silvery orbs with spherical glass lenses in centre acting as the pupil and allowing the devices to be used for sight. The spherical lenses glew a murky emerald colour, and switched from target to target. Compared to the eye snatching bionics of his arms and legs, his eyes were rather discreet pieces of technology. In fact, if one were to ignore the silver metal of the eyes, it would look like the man had a normal face and bright green eyes. His face was unlike that of the other man, bearing no scars of any sort. As before, he had a face that was almost normal. Maybe it too was one huge artificial implant.

The third member of the group, the woman, had a talent that was harder to see. Naturally of course. Wearing the same riot gear the technician wore, draped in robe of midnight black; the female figure of the group was truly a puzzle to everyone. Her mouth was completely concealed below the nose by a piece of fabric drawn across it, and her hair, the same colour as her blackened robes sprouted from the back of her head in a tight ponytail. Her bright, electric blue eyes were like tiny oceans set in her skull and peaked out above the veil covering her jaw. She stood in a pose that spoke of large amounts of agility and flexibility, but also of some amount of strength and fortitude. In both her hands she held two rather large and boxy pistols made of metal that seemed to consume all light unfortunate enough to touch the slate grey paintwork.

They all stood confidently facing the armed soldiers.

The only thing preventing the soldiers from being turned into corpses was the gloved, staying fist of the fourth member of the group being held above his head.

All three of the others refraining from causing havoc simply because this man in dirty, faded camouflage overalls had his fist clenched. Their leader.

“I’d take this over where we were.” The leader cautiously respond.

Although he was their leader, he certainly didn’t look the part. Old camouflage overalls covering his entire body. The clothes were covered in pockets and pouches all containing various pieces of equipment deemed important enough to have, a bulky black combat belt kept his trousers held tight, and they too had their fair share of pockets. All practical and simple things.

He was the typical soldier, down to the standard silver tags hanging around his neck and the dark, closely cropped hair clinging to his scalp. Not the mystery of the woman, or the protection of the bigger man, and certainly not the augmentation of the smaller man. He was simply a man. He had some bulk to his body, perhaps concealed body armour, but it was impossible to tell because of the overalls.

“Looking for instructions Boss” The man with the bionic limbs whispered over to his leader.

The leader surveyed the soldier in front of him for a moment, before responding.

“Lowering your weapon would be a start” The leader whispered back in a slightly amused tone.

Any other person would likely be reluctant to lower their weapon in the face of other armed men, but the bionic man trusted his leader. While he couldn’t quite understand his leader’s methods, they rarely failed, and he trusted them.

He simply grinned and slowly lowered his shotgun towards the ground.

The other two members of the group did likewise.

“Let’s see where this one leads us…” The leader whispered to himself as soldiers moved towards his group, ready to detain them.

“This cell is rather pretty, would you not agree, Grimock?” The bionic man amusedly yelled to the heavy weapon wielder across the corridor.

Rather unsurprisingly, the group were taken directly through the cold steel of the fortress-city, to the prison within the central spire. Long, wide corridors with doors made of thick bars lining the entire length.

“If you’ve got a fetish for white steel and neon blue lighting strips. No doubt you do, Logar.” Grimock responded.

“This seems more like blue steel.” Logar reported with a slight laugh as he tapped the solid, bare wall of his cramped cell.

“I meant the colour…” Grimock groaned at Logar’s silly joke. “Well, may as well get comfy.” He continued to sigh as he sat on the smooth bench in his cell.

The group had each been given a small cell to “rest” in, made of the same cold steel that the entire fortress was made of, and was lit by odd, blue glowing strips, as Logar had observed.

Despite its bright and cheerful colours, it was far from that. Prisons never seem fun, and for good reason.

“Do you suppose they’ll just leave us here to rot for trespassing, or will they allow us to explain ourselves?”  The woman clad in black robes asked her comrades.

Logar’s metal hand clanked as he rested himself upon the door of his cell.

“One would assume both, my dear Keyla. Questioning followed swiftly by rotting.” Logar answered.

“Bringing the enthusiasm, as always, Logar.” Keyla chuckled as she too slumped onto her bench.

“What do you think boss?” Keyla continued to ask.

“I think we’ll be questioned, like Logar said, but I disagree with the rotting. I think we’ll pull through this and reason with them.” The camouflage wearing man yelled back.

“I’m highly reluctant to doubt you, but I fear these men may be beyond reason, Titus.” Logar disheartendly responded.

“And why would you think that?” Titus half laughed back to Logar.

“These soldiers just don’t seem like the type to be reasoned with.” Logar said as he shrugged.

“You seem awfully eager to reside to a fate in these cells.” Titus laughed back, “What’s the matter with you today, hmm?”

Logar chuckled and slumped back from the door to his cell.

“You know me Titus.” Logar laughed, “Never really liked the cold.”

“Well I’m afraid you’re going to be in your own personal hell for quite some time.” A powerful voice maliciously chuckled from one end of the corridor.

The voice was enough to draw all four members to the doors of their respective cells.

“And I’m also afraid your friend in the overalls was the one who was right. On the questioning part, at least. We’ll see about the reasoning later…” The voice trailed off to be replaced by the sound of footsteps, marching ever louder towards the group.

“Come on Applejack! We ain’t got time to dilly dally!”

“This better be the last one Braeburn! I’m getting mighty tired of this…”

Applejack and Braeburn had spent the best part of the day fumbling around the desert looking for crates of seeds, of all things. Appleloosa’s shipment of tree seeds for planting had been subject to a series of unfortunate events while traveling on the Friendship Express, and ended up scattered all along the length of the train track. Tensions were high.

“I didn’t force you to do this missy, you agreed to help me.” Braeburn flatly reminded Applejack.

“Yes, I know that cousin, I just don’t remember ya’ll mention the walking across half a desert part.” Applejack threw back.

“What’d ya think I meant when I asked you to help me out? Ya’ll know our family well enough. When is our work never long and difficult?” Braeburn laughed back as he pushed a crate towards the cart they’d both been pulling.

“Heh… I s’pose you’re right, I know our work.” Applejack agreed.

Applejack always loved spending time with family. Everyone in her family were so nice, and were a complete pleasure to work with. Even if the work is even more repetitive and physically demanding than usual.

“So where d’ya reckon the rest of these crates went Applejack?” Braeburn inquisitively asked Applejack as he squirmed into the harness to begin pulling the cart again.

“Well most’ve been along the track, so I reckon we should just keep followin’ it until we get ‘em all.” Applejack responded as she joined in pulling the cart.

“Heh, well. That seems like a good idea. Let’s see what the track takes us to…” Braeburn trailed off as both he and Applejack began pushing the now heavy cart.

“So, let’s take this from the top, shall we…” The man sighed. “How exactly did you get into this facility?”

The man who had collected the group from their cells no less. The group of four had garnered quite a bit of attention, including from the Lord General of the fortress-city. The Lord General was the highest position of power on Solace, and he ruled the entire fortress. The Lord General happened to be the one who had claimed them. A large, old, man, weathered by time but not completely worn. Wearing his ceremonial black suit, complete with the General’s hat, commendation meddles and a long sabre made of some foreign, blue metal. It was both an ornamental piece and a functioning sword. His long white hair, the norm for someone born on Solace, contrasted his dark uniform perfectly, and besides certain medals, was the only thing that had any brightness to it on his entire uniform. He certainly looked the part, and he was in the mood for some good, old fashioned negotiations.

“We have our ways.” Titus responded.

“Right… And who are you again?” The general continued to sigh.

“Titus.”

The room they were in was completely apart from the prison. After a few turns down the confusing corridors and traversing the many elevators of the spire, the aesthetics completely changed from dark and doom to something akin to joy and comfort. The topmost levels of the spire were for meetings of the higher ranking residents of the fortress-city. Discussing the status of the fortress and news from their superiors. The room the party was situated in was normally used for simple gatherings. Large circular room with a large clear glass window letting the day light illuminate the room. In the centre of the room a large, circular, crystalline table which everyone was sat around. The Lord, unsurprisingly, the only person not in a set of cuffs and chains.

Naturally, guards at the doorways.

“And you?” The general asked as he gestured to the bionic man.

“Logar.” He flatly responded, just as bored as the general.

“How about you young lady?”

“Keyla.” The woman lightly laughed. She was quite amused by the man’s frustration.

“And finally you…” The general groaned as he pointed to the biggest man.

“Grimock.” The big man grumbled.

“They’re all very interesting names. I’m afraid I can’t match those however. I’m simply Dane.”

The entire room fell silent again, as it had the first time that conversation had taken place.

When you break into a city designed solely to keep people out, you can’t really get away with saying “It’s our secret”.

General Averol Dane was certainly not the type to take such a vague answer regarding the infiltration of his fortress. However, his captives weren’t being very forthcoming. The most he’d been able to get were their names and the fact that they’d gotten into the fortress. He was rather losing his patients with them. They’d been going around in circles multiple times.

“Look, I’m more than willing to pardon your trespassing if you’ll just tell me what I want to know.” Dane groaned as he slapped the irritatingly blank sheet of paper on the table, which he’d brought to jot down anything of importance.

“We’re terribly sorry, but our methods are not something you can know, as we’ve told you before.” Logar explained once more. “There is no disputing that.” He finished.

“Ah, but you see, I am the one with the guns, the guards and the fortress. Most importantly to you maybe, I’m the one who holds the key to your freedom, or inversely to your eternal captivity. Now, I would really like to know how exactly four people infiltrated my fortress.” Dane pressed.

“We snuck into your fortress when an opportunity arose.” Titus hopefully said, hoping that that would satisfy the general.

“An opportunity you say? I’m eager to hear what my base is lacking that would give you such an opportunity.” Dane laughed, masking his impatiens now that he was getting somewhere.

“A number of guards patrolling your perimeter were distracted by something… We managed to sneak in.” Titus reluctantly explained.

“That’s quite a feat my friend. Do you have much experience in infiltrating military fortresses?” Dane slightly laughed.

“He doesn’t, but I do.” Keyla interrupted. “I was the one who noticed the guards were distracted and devised the way to get in. I could explain it if y-“

Dane interrupted Keyla before she could finish the explanation.

Everyone in the room, besides Dane of course, silently held their breath.

“The walls are kept clear by automated gun systems and all the gates to the fortress are also protected by even more gun systems. Can anyone tell me what that means?”

All four members of the group shared uneasy looks. Most directed at Titus. Titus, being the leader, was the first to be looked to in times of trouble. He didn’t really have any solution.

“You’re lying to me” The general spat as slammed his fist on the gleaming table.

He slowly stood up from his silver chair, and walked towards the large window behind him.

“I tried to be civil with you.” Dane signed. “But you won’t co-operate with me, and when I finally think you are, you lie to me. Why are you even here?”

“To ask for your help.” Titus enthusiastically said, happy the subject had been changed to something he wanted to talk about.

“Hmm?” Dane confusedly muttered at Titus’ statement.

“We’re here to ask for your assistance” Grimock repeated for Titus.

Dane rounded back on the four members sat around the table and slowly grinned.

“You think I would be willing to help you after you refuse to give me information, even while you’re my captives? Really?”

“We were hoping, yes.” Titus flatly responded.

“And what kind of assistance would you be requiring, hmm? Would you like your weapons? Armour? A legion of men?” Dane laughed as he collected his papers.

“That would be nice, actually.” Logar quietly chuckled to himself.

“Well you’re not getting any of it. Until you tell me what I want to know, you can sit in the damned prison.” Dane spitefully spat back. Despite the fact that he was intrigued by the group, he could not take any chances trusting what was a very large security threat. Especially with weapons.

“Guards,” Dane bellowed to the guards he’d stationed outside the entrance to the room.

The instant the words had left his mouth, two guards in black, beautifully gilded combat armour, carrying shotguns similar to Logar stomped in.

“Sir,” Both guards said in unison.

“Both of you take these fools back to the prison cells.” Dane ordered as he turned back to face the glorious gleaming sun of Solace rising over the horizon.

“Yes sir.”

Both guards bowed to their leader, and faced to turn the four unfortunate captives.

To Dane’s surprise, the four prisoners went without dispute. They simply stood, and began to walk out of the room with the guards.

Before he left, Titus turned and said: “Why not take a chance? Why not help us?”

Dane laughed.

“I’ve been the Lord of this fortress for forty years. I don’t take chances. You’ll stay in those cells and you’ll get no help from us. Congratulations, you just blew your one chance of pardon.”

Titus sighed and left with his friends.

“I’m assuming you have a plan.” Logar whispered to Titus as he marched back towards the prison complex.

“Considering the options, give me a minute.” Titus whispered back.

“Options? We have options?” Logar confusedly shot back, in a slightly raised tone.

“Be silent, fool.” One of the guards bellowed from behind, hearing Logar.

“Yes, we do.” Titus whispered, even quieter, almost inaudible. “Assume Dane is being truthful saying there will be no pardon or wait this out and see if we get help. These people are powerful and could be valuable.” He finished.

“I’m not entirely sure we have a choice in what happens. We’re waiting this out.” Grimock disheartendly sighed.

“I said silent damn it!” The same guard angrily yelled as he cocked his shotgun loudly.

“Hmm… Don’t be so sure…” Keyla sung as she nodded towards a convoy of men carrying familiar looking pieces of equipment down a large, long corridor veering off to the right. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking Titus?”

“Well, it’s this or spend a few years in a prison cell.” Titus lightly laughed. He nodded towards Grimock and said: “Do it.”

That was all that was needed for the plan to be understood. The group worked in sync with each other, and knew how they assessed situations perfectly. Grimock turned around to the guard who had been particularly aggressive, Grimock being at the back of the group, following Titus, Logar and finally, at the front, Keyla. He twisted his body heavily to the right and before the guard could raise his shotgun to fire, Grimock slammed his linked hands against the side of his skull. There was a cry of pain, and then a clunk of an unconscious man slamming onto the floor.

“Go!” Titus shouted to his comrades.

Grimock was already way ahead of him, having begun picking up the shotgun from the downed guard. The other guard standing at the front of the group had not been completely deaf, and heard his co-worker go down. He was already turning his gun on the group.

“Run!” Titus bellowed to Keyla and Logar as he gestured to the corridor with his shackled hands.

They set off sprinting towards the gear, which the servants promptly dropped on the floor as they ran from the intruders.

The remaining guard began to set off after them all, having lost sight of them down the corridor, but as he took a sharp turn around the corner, the thought struck him that there were only three people running down the corridor. The guard, much like his counterpart, felt a sharp stab of pain against the side of his head as Grimock smacked the stock of the shotgun hard into him. He stumbled and fell hard against the cold steel floor.

Grimock stepped carefully over the unconscious man and set off running to his friends, who were gathering their equipment.

“Good job Grimock.” Titus happily said to his friend as he let Logar begin to remove his cuffs.

“They’ll be out for a while, but I’m fairly sure those guys who ran will surely sound the alarm.” Grimock nervously responded.

“You heard him Logar, get these damned things off of us.” Titus ordered, switching to his normal, serious tone.

“No problem boss.” Logar enthusiastically said as he strongly spread his arms to the side, his bionic one providing more than enough strength to break the chains. He could’ve done that at any point, be breaking out of his chains wouldn’t really do well for negotiations.

He didn’t strip the actual cuffs off, as time was short.

“Now you lot.”

Logar flexed his fingers and rapidly snapped the chains bonding his friends.

Click after high pitched click, the links broke, until everyone was free.

“Gear up, we’re leaving this place.” Titus said as he began to pick up his weapons and re-equip his combat armour, which was indeed concealed under his overalls.

Everyone had been relieved of their armour and weapons, following their capture. Good move, Titus had to admit. If they tried to escape like they were now, they wouldn’t get far without weaponry or protection.

As they were checking their weapons were in working order, a claxon blared from loudspeakers in the immensely large ceilings.

“I think they realised what happened.” Titus groaned as he cocked his rifle.

“That’s not very good.” Grimock droned as he scanned one end of the corridor with his beastly rifle.

“I hear footsteps from my end.” Keyla quietly said as she began backing away from her end of the corridor, the one they’d left the unconscious guards in.

“Run the other way then.” Titus groaned, having to say aloud the obvious. He stood from his crouched position, finished checking his equipment, and began sprinting away from the loud footsteps. His friends followed suit.

“I thought ya’ll would be with your friend, that’s why I was so surprised when you agreed to help me.”

Braeburn and Applejack had continued following the rail road through the dry, dusty desert. They’d collected all but two elusive crates of seeds while following it, but they were both being particularly tricky, and weren’t anywhere in sight. They were both beginning to lose all hope.

“I think we should just cut our losses and haul these babies back to town. We’re gonna get lost out here in this place.” Braeburn sighed, having seen enough dusty dirt for one day.

“Wha- Come on Braeburn, don’t be so easily defeated! When has the Apple family ever settled for “cutting our losses”, huh?” Applejack gasped at Braeburn.

Braeburn awkwardly looked down at the ground.

“Never-ever, Applejack. We Apples always try our very best. But can you even-“

“I see a crate!” Applejack announced triumphantly as she pointed a hoof in front of her, and at the crate cresting the horizon next to the rail track.

Applejack detached herself from the cart and set of rapidly trotting towards the cart that was now within sight.

Breaburn quickly raised his head as he saw her leave.

“Now you just slow yourself down Applejack, what are you gonna do without the cart!” Braeburn yelled at Applejack as the distance between the two increased. He turned to look back at the heavy cart. He couldn’t well pull it by himself, nor could Applejack push the surprisingly heavy crate by herself. This was going to do nothing but waste everyone’s time.

“Maybe not…” Braeburn thought as he eyed the land across from the rail. The ground was mostly dust and boulders, but there was a hint of something wooden. Nestled in a big collection of red-rock boulders, there was something different.

There wouldn’t be a cart this far away from Appleloosa, so it could be the other crate of seeds.

“Well, Applejack’s ran off over yonder,” Braeburn reasoned out loud  “so I may as well run off and see if that’s a crate, if nothin’ else.”

Braeburn slowly detached himself from the various holdings of the cart and set off walking in the direction of the possibly useful, possibly nothing he’d seen.

“I think we took a rather wrong turn!” Keyla yelled as she hid behind a large pillar.

The group of four had the awful fortune of being confronted by a four way intersection in the corridor they’d ran down. They’d ran past their cells in the prison complex, which was surprisingly sparsely guarded, and continued down the corridor to what Logar remembered to be the way they’d entered.

All but one of the three corridors they had to choose from led to relatively safe locations, and even closer to the exit, except the one to the group’s right, which led to the Royal crew’s chambers. The Royal crew being men who were assigned to protect the Lord General whenever he left the main spire of the fortress.

“I think that much was obvious!” Titus angrily yelled back as he too hid behind the same pillar.

The room was something that looked similar to a giant shower room. Large room with nothing more than beds installed in the walls and support pillars for the building spiking up from the floor to the celling. The fortress never seemed to deviate from shining steel as a building material, as this room was also almost completely constructed form it. How a tower of complete steel could stand so tall without collapsing was a wonder.

Bullets were ricocheting all around the place and each round hitting the steel walls made a tremendous noise.

“Permission to retaliate boss?” Grimock bellowed over the din of fire from yet another pillar.

“Denied!” Titus bellowed back, his voice a mix of anger and frustration.

“A Jump then?” Logar suggested.

“That looks like the only option!” Titus agreed.

The soldiers were beginning to realise the group’s lack of retaliation, and were beginning to move away from the opposite side of the room to them, and press their attack.

“Shame too! These people could’ve come around to helping us!” Keyla disheartendly half yelled half sighed to her friends.

“Doubt it!” Grimock laughed as some smaller bullets clinked off of his armoured clothing. “They seem to want information and nothing else!”

“Running out of time here, set ‘em for one-five-nine-six!” Titus ordered rapidly as he began furiously clicking at the watch like device strapped to his right wrist. Each member of the team carried one, concealed on their person. In reality, they weren’t that dissimilar to a watch in both size and appearance. Simple digital read out and various buttons and dials.

“How are we doing?” Titus questioned hastily

“All set on my end, one-five-nine-six.” Keyla reported.

“One-five-nine-six, set.” Grimock repeated.

“Ready.” Echoed Logar.

“Good, on the count of three then.” Titus sighed as he readied his hand over a button.

Such a shame that the inhabitants of this world be so hostile.

“Three…” Titus held the number and checked around, making sure his team were all ready to go.

Titus could hear footsteps coming from the corridor they’d came from. Pretty soon they’d be caged in and shot.

“Two…” Everyone’s fingers hovered over big red buttons on the watches.

“One…” Titus could see figures emerge from a passage leading into the corridor they’d come from.

“Go!”

Everyone mashed the red buttons, a series of bleeps emanated from all the watches, and a haze spread from the watches across their bodies.

“Here we go!” Grimock sighed in a distorted tone.

The haze began slowly creeping out to join with all the other members, and intensified until it was almost like an aura of white light surrounding the four.

It was a rather magical sight, and more than a few of the royal guards stopped firing to observe it.

The ones coming down the corridor were not among these guards.

“Arg!” Logar bellowed as a heavy calibre bullet punched right through his metallic arm.

The fact that his arm was bionic was, in this situation, a benefit. The complex bionics may have been able to feel limited sensations, like pain, but they were fleeting, and it didn’t really matter if the arm was damaged because it could be repaired or replaced. So it should’ve been no big deal that the arm was damaged. That would’ve been the case, had Logar’s watch not been strapped around the bionic limb. And it was now hanging by a thread, or rather, by a cable.

Titus looked at Logar with a mask of confusion and fear set on his face.

He didn’t actually know what would happen if the watch was detached from Logar.

“Time to find out…” Titus thought as the artificial arm snapped at the elbow and fell to the floor.

The fizzling haze that was engulfing everyone vanished from Logar, and he was completely exposed.

Titus dived from his cover, met by a hail of barking gunfire, and jumped at Logar.

The haze intensified, and Grimock, Keyla and Titus were all surrounded by the glorious white light, and Logar covered his eyes.

Titus landed heavily on him, and embraced him. Logar was quite confused, and opened his mouth to protest.

“Urmf!” Was all he manage before Titus smashed the air from his lungs on the ground, and drowned him in the light.

Even more guards stopped and stared in amazement. Two grown men wrestling on the floor and two other people simply watching.

*Crack*

The world did almost exactly what it sounded like it did.

It looked to the guards like the reality they saw before them cracked into a million shards, as if made of glass. Reality melted away for a brief few seconds, but it hung like an age.

And then, normality.

The world sprang back into focus, and all that was left of the cornered captives were mulched chunks of a metal arm, a tiny little watch, and a dissipating white light.

Solace; normally a very fitting name for the planet. Today, not so much.

The first thing that greeted the group upon exit of the crack in the fabric of reality was, to their surprise, solid dirt ground. They landed in a clear patch of land in what looked like a bolder field. Lots of rocks dotting all over the place.

Each one of the four tumbled out of the portal and slammed hard onto the dusty desert floor, kicking up a hell of a dust cloud. One of their less graceful entries.

Titus and Logar were the last to come out, following Grimock and Keyla. Titus was still holding tight to Logar, but released as they smashed into the ground.

Logar rolled away, half limp, and laid in a clump in the dust.

Titus did likewise.

For a few moments, everyone just lay there, motionless, with the desert wind whipping around them.

It didn’t last.

“Where are we..?” Keyla groaned.

Falls always seemed to bypass any protective clothing you might be wearing and shake you to death. No one had come off unharmed.

Grimock attempted to say something, but much like Logar, all that came out was a groan.

“Urg… Check Logar…” Titus mumbled as he pushed himself slowly up from the bone dry ground.

Grimock was already stumbling over to Logar, having righted himself by now.

He essentially slapped his hand sluggishly on Logar’s neck to check for a pulse.

“Pulse, check.”

He hovered his hand over Logar’s mouth and below his nose.

“Still breathing…” He sighed as he stood back up and straightened himself.

“Guys, where are we?” Keyla asked again as she surveyed the desert hell they’d spawned in.

“Check the watches.” Grimock replied with frustration as he retrieved his weapon, which had flown from his hands several metres when he crashed into the ground.

Keyla looked at the watch strapped to her left wrist.

Luckily the world they’d spawned in had a name wrote in a recognisable language, but it wasn’t a world they knew, which it should’ve been.

“Well we’re somewhere, but did the watches take us to the right place? The crashing through a rip in space has never happened before.” Keyla asked no one in particular as she sat down and leant her back against a large, red-rock boulder.

“Where was one-five-nine-six supposed to take us?” Grimock asked, still frustration in his voice. He didn’t like this.

“Not here, that’s for sure.”

“Someone’s coming!” Grimock half whispered half yelled.

“Cover!” Titus whisper-yelled back as he heard the mumbling in the distance that had alerted Grimock.

Everyone, save for Logar, who had to stay where he was, dived behind the collection of red-rock boulders, disregarding whether crashing into the ground would harm them or not. Getting caught out in an unknown territory could be fatal.

Something wasn’t… Right. Or rather, something didn’t sound right.

Footsteps have their own little sound. Depending on the footwear and the species, they sound different.

And the sound that was approaching…

“That doesn’t make sense…” Everyone silently said to themselves.

It could’ve been the dirt distorting the noise, but it almost sounded like the clopping a horse would make while walking.

Titus heard the unidentified voice mumble something about a crate, and it was at this point someone was a little too tempted to see this character.

Grimock peered over the rock he was hiding behind.

He rapidly ducked back down, a pale, confused look on his face.

“Grimock…” Titus whispered as he leant closer to Grimock, even though there was a sizable distance between their two hiding places.

“Horses, sir.” Grimock whispered back in a monotone voice.

“Excuse me?” Titus gasped as he slid back to his hiding place.

Grimock shrugged. He was being serious.

“Horses!” Titus thought.

He looked down at his watch again. One word. The name of the world they were in.

Titus sighed heavily.

“Equestria”.