From beyond the grimy, shaded window of the small, bare apartment, the echoing booms of jets going supersonic brought the sleeping man in bed to the state of awareness with a tired groan. Kenneth Chase slowly sat up on the thin, hard mattress, and blinked blearily. “Damn flyboys and their stunts…” He muttered, before turning and placing his feet on the floor, standing up and stretching. The boards beneath him shuddered ever so slightly from the sound waves, but he ignored them as he stumbled into his small kitchen, and looked out the window overlooking the base.
What had once been a small, mostly discrete base for the former United States Air Force was now a full-blown city in its own right, after the Fall. The desert sands were kept out by a dedicated maintenance and janitorial staff, a defensive perimeter had been built far beyond the actual compound, and of course, at the center of it all…Ken grinned as he brewed his morning coffee. The reason for them all being there was smack in the center. Turning from the sight, he headed off to prepare for his day.
“Weather reports are calling for temperatures well into the upper 90s and above, so parents keep your kids inside today- also possible are everyone’s favorite killer sandstorms…” The small radio mounted on his ancient Jeep crackled with static, and Ken groaned before kicking it with his free leg, even as he was bounced all over the road by the old war scout’s poor suspension system. The Jeep’s gas gauge went up a notch, along with the soldier’s eyebrow, but nothing else happened. Old tech’s wearing out, he thought. God, I hope they finish everything up soon. If the other factions don’t beat us to it, this weather’s going to kill us all.
Chase tugged the steering wheel and sent the vehicle around a much more modern and heavily-armed Humvee, which was doing a routine patrol of the route leading to the Phoenix’s massive facilities. The uniformed trooper manning the large .50 caliber machine gun snapped off a lazy salute, which he returned as the smaller vehicle overtook them from behind. The Jeep passed a few sandbagged bunkers and more entrenched positions, before reaching the edge of the enormous wall that surrounded the site of the project. A quick glance upwards revealed an ominous dust cloud forming off to the west, and he frowned in the direction before shifting back into gear and drove through the main bunker door, into the building.
For a few moments there was nothing but the dim illumination provided by the Jeep’s well-used headlights, until bright white lights flashed into existence, revealing a nearly sterile-looking room with another reinforced door just up ahead. Armed guards stood on balconies on either side of him, with mounted weapons covering the entrance as he drove through the next door, and parked alongside a number of dust-covered civilian cars. Refuge, as the facility was known, had been the hotbed for multiple experiments by the US military back in the day, and before the collapse of the economy and division of the states, the Air Force, working deeply behind the scenes with NASA's best and brightest, had been onto something big.
“Commander Chase?” A lightly accented voice spoke, the English tinged with the faintest trace of a Russian accent. Kenneth finished straightening his dark gray uniform jacket and turned, snapping to attention. An older man with gray in his hair and lines on his face returned the salute calmly, before dropping it and grinning. “It is good to see you again, my young friend. Fate seems to have brought us together once more, no?”
Kenneth chuckled and shook his hand firmly. “I'm not that young anymore, sir. But that it is, Captain Aleksei.” The Russian native shook his head. A former military man himself, Nyavosky had been a Captain with the Russian Air Force, and had experience with space travel and survival. During Chase's own desertion, he'd encountered Nyavosky, who'd taken him with him to their current location. He most likely owed his life to the Russian.
“It is just Aleksei now, Kenneth.” He said, voice becoming a bit more serious. “After all, it would seem that what our task is will be of the utmost importance to our entire race.” The younger man nodded, grin fading.
“Well, they couldn’t have picked a better man for the command.” Alexei laughed heartily and patted his fellow officer’s back.
“It is good to work alongside you again, my friend.” Motioning for Chase to follow him, the Russian turned around and started walking down the long and well-lit hallway, a sign displaying Observation & Control Room just overhead.
“And you as well, Aleksei.” Chase replied, as the two passed a pair of armed guards whose stares never strayed from the corridor behind them. “I'm going to go out on a limb and guess they've started gathering the full crew and explaining why we've all been teaching 'random' skills to the enlisted?” Aleksei nodded with a faint grin and snort of laughter.
“Yes, and the technicians are finishing their final work on the Phoenix. Such a fitting name, she has...” The Russian murmured, eyes going slightly blank as a memory obviously flashed into his head. Ken knew the type. He saw enough of them at night; saw the hell that the Fall had brought out replayed in his dreams time and time again. Remembered waking up one morning to a scrambling barracks of nervous sailors and Marines, the news channels going on and on about how an earthquake had brought Rome crumbling down and leaving people panicking as similar events began happening more often, and how the economy was collapsing. It hadn't taken too long for old rivalries to re-emerge...and then ignite into a blaze that soon began to consume the rest of the world...
Yet the greatest minds of the time had seen it coming months before. Certain patterns began to emerge while natural disasters became more and more prevalent in society. The climate began to shift for the worse, while few attempted to do anything about it. The availability of resources dropped, and their prices skyrocketed. Unable to change the paths of their countries, plotted by ignorant rulers, they had no choice but to turn to each other through the most secretive channels, slowly spreading word to their peers of one final chance to save humanity, before their planet and their own stupidity exterminated them: Project Phoenix.
The following months after conclusions were reached, it began. Nations were left scrambling as their best designers and inventors for weapons and defense disappeared one after another; the minds behind the progress of humanity had put themselves towards a different goal to achieve.
“Captain Nyavosky, Commander Chase.” A weary voice rumbled, and Ken blinked, before looking directly ahead and spotting the Director himself-the leader of the group- waiting before him.
“Director Hudson.” Chase snapped to attention, before the elderly man waved his hand dismissively. Hudson had formerly been the head of the National Air and Space Administration, and was one of few with the firsthand knowledge of the Phoenix.
“At ease, boys.” The Director coughed, covering his mouth now with his hand. “It’s good to see you two again.” A faint grin formed, as he nodded towards the window behind him. “We’ve almost got her finished now. Final checks will happen tomorrow morning.” The trio stepped up to the long, armored plate-glass window, and looked out upon the massive underground hangar. The sense of elation Chase felt upon seeing the Phoenix so close to completion was almost as tangible as the adrenaline he felt coursing through his veins now; the angular, gunmetal-gray painted surfaces of the Phoenix’s hull gleamed softly in the spotlights as workers crawled all over her, finishing welds and checking sections.
“She’s beautiful…” Kenneth murmured, blinking slowly. The ship was a former military experiment- they’d converted her from the orbital transport and assault craft she had originally been to a carrier vessel, so to speak. At exactly 1,250 feet in length, with the beam being no less than 100 feet in the smallest spot. Her original armament had been vast, but most of it had been stripped to make more space for cargo and passengers. However, the ship retained her imposing figure, angles sharp and efficient, with very few true curves anywhere to be seen.
“Yes, yes she is.” Hudson said, with a faint touch of pride in his voice. “And the two of you will be taking her up in one week.” Chase and Nyavosky both whirled around in surprise, prompting Hudson to lean against the window with a tired look. “The Eastern Republic is preparing for a massive offensive against us and our outposts, and it’s expected within the next few days.” He looked both of them in the eyes. “Gentlemen, they’ve got nukes, and from the satellite pictures we’ve managed to get, they’re preparing to use them.” The quiet was so loud that any of them could have heard a pin drop.
“What?” Kenneth’s voice was near whisper volume. “For fuck’s sake…you’re serious?”Somehow, a nuke had gotten into a spat involving D.C. a while back…and now the former capital of the fractured country was a smoking, radioactive crater. Since then, the different factions had to all intents and purposes agreed not to use any recovered nuclear weapons.
“Yeah, I’m dead damn serious.” Hudson replied. “We’ve got control of some of the best tech left out there, we’ve got agricultural communities that keep us in decent supply of food, and a peaceful enough home situation. The Republic is on the border of collapsing inwards- not only do they need food, water supplies, and the tech to manage it all, they need a target, and we’re one of the better ones out there right now.”
Hudson paused for a moment, shaking his head. “Gentlemen, you know at least half of our 'military',” He practically spat the word out, “Is using crap we've recovered from war museums and personal collections. We're lucky we have the technology to fabricate new parts for the old vehicles, and the different ammunition styles our older firearms and heavy weapons used. Now, the Republic doesn't have much in the way of advanced civilian tech, but seeing as a lot of the old guard joined them, they outnumber and outgun us with some of the most modern killing tools in existence. We could use our own nukes as a first strike, but then it's just asking for every last asshole with a grudge to do the same.”
“Well...we all know what our mission is, in any case.” Nyavosky said grimly. The other two men nodded silently, as they turned back to look at the ship. “Director Hudson, it would be my honor to command her.” The Russian and the old scientist shook hands, even as Kenneth looked on in a daze. My god...
“Atten-shun!” A voice barked loudly in the barracks, and Chase looked to his left to see a sergeant snapping to attention and bellowing at the rest of the room. “Officer on deck!” The rest of the Marines had already followed suit as quickly as they could, previous tasks abandoned. Really, right now, the term “Marine” is being pretty loosely applied, the commander thought dryly. Right now, the Colonial Marines were a group of the various forces that had joined this faction. Air Force, Navy, Army, anyone with military training was included, and the few actual Marines like Chase were working hard to try and train the rest of the unit in the tactics that would help them become a unified fighting force.
“At ease, everyone.” Chase said, returning the salute. The older Marine nodded, the severe flattop haircut only now showing the traces of gray spreading. “What’s our status?”
“Permission to speak freely, sir?” The Gunny said after a moment of silence and observation of the soldiers back at their own business around him.
“Granted, of course.”
“This is one helluva crock of bullshit.” He grunted, scowling. “I’m supposed to make Marines out of them?” The gunnery sergeant shook his fist at a group of card-playing troopers, who looked up in mild surprise, nodded at Chase, then looked back down. The Commander had to suppress a snort of laughter.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Gunny Anderson.” With a groan and a nod, the gunny looked back at the Commander.
“I guess so, sir.” Chase looked around for a few moments, before leaning in closer.
“Make sure they've got their shit squared away by tonight, and I mean all of it. The launch has been moved up to next week.” Gunny Anderson stiffened in response, his sharp blue eyes widening in surprise, then narrowing.
“Aye aye, Commander.” He replied gruffly, before turning around. “On your feet, Marines!” Anderson bellowed, loudly enough to leave Chase's ears ringing, and the soldiers jumping up instinctively, facing the older sergeant. “I want all of your kits fully packed by 2000 tonight, and all of you combat-ready!” The room was silent for a few seconds as the order sank in. Anderson scowled again. “Well what the hell are you waiting for, a personal invitation from God him-fucking-self? Get your asses moving, on the double!” And with that, the barracks erupted into action, Marines grabbing rucksacks and starting the process of filling them up.
“Thanks for that, Anderson.” Chase chuckled, grinning at the sight. The older man allowed a faint smirk to take hold on his face.
“Always my pleasure to put the fear of the Almighty in these whelps, son.” Anderson snorted, before snapping off another salute. “I'll have these sorry sonsabitches ready for you when you need them.” The younger nodded with a small grin, before turning about and heading back out the door.
Chase groaned softly, sliding into the small driver's seat of his Jeep as the suspension creaked. He twisted the key in the ignition, and just enjoyed the sound of the engine rumbling to life, before grabbing the stick and standing on the clutch, shifting the vehicle into first gear. The choppy start made him grit his teeth, but soon the small off-road vehicle was up to a respectable 30 miles per hour, zipping across the rough pavement that lined the main streets of the city. The few minutes of driving under a mostly clear night sky sadly did not help to clear his head much at all.
Pulling up to the prefab apartment building, Chase shut off the Jeep and went inside, climbing the stairs to his room and entering silently, before flopping down on his bunk tiredly. He had to be up by 0600 tomorrow to start preparations for...well, an entirely new beginning. The Marine tossed and turned restlessly for a long while though, before finally falling to a troubled sleep.
“Bravo Two-One, this is Bravo Actual. I need a sitrep!” The smell of burning asphalt, buildings, and smog. Screaming and shouting from the mob in front.
“Bravo Actual, this is Two-One, we've got civvies pounding on the gates and screaming at the tower-shit! Improvised firebombs are present!” The heat of a Molotov cocktail shattering against the window, flames clinging to the hardened, bulletproof glass.
“Two-One, is everyone alright!?”
“Yeah, yeah, we're fine, but damn these people are pissed...” A makeshift battering ram appears in the farthest ranks of the enraged mob, heading for the front steadily.
“Shit...Two-One, I'm getting orders from the top. You're to open fire, target the armed rioters.”
“What!? What the hell do you mean, 'open fire'? They're just civilians, it was just a burning bottle of booze!”
“Bravo Two-One, this is Command. You have your orders, clear our damned perimeter! Drop those goddamned rioters right now!”
“But sir, we-”
“Now Lieutenant, or I swear to God above that I'll shoot you myself for disobeying a direct order!”
“I-yes sir...squad! O-open fire...”
“LT, what?!”
“Fire, goddamn me, open fucking fire!” Gunfire, deafening in the amount and volume. Bodies. Bodies everywhere. Screaming and shouting, people running around as a firebomb shattered in the midst of the crowd, and the scene turned into one from hell.
“Chase! Chase, come on!”
“Chase, get your ass out of bed now!” Chase woke up suddenly, gasping for breath as he rolled out of bed and yanked the pistol from beneath his pistol, the old Colt a comforting weight in his hands. From the window entered the faint, faint light of the desert dawn, bright flashes overpowering the dim glow of the sun just under the horizon. Weapons flashing as they were fired. “We have to leave, my friend!” Nyavosky's voice was urgent and loud, as a hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around. The Commander's first sight was of the older Russian wielding an M4 and garbed in desert BDUs, even as the sounds of gunfire and heavier weaponry sounded in the distance.
“Shit, what's going on?” Chase demanded, blinking tiredly as he sat the pistol down and grabbed his fatigue jacket, pulling it on. Thank Christ I slept in most of my gear, he thought somberly. Next came his boots, and he grabbed the pistol again as Nyavosky conversed with a fellow Colonial Marine.
“-regular Army's holding off the main assault as best as they can, but they're getting slaughtered out there. Their best guess is an advanced heavy tank division with artillery and light air support. For fuck's sake, our boys have old Pattons going up against Abrams!” The soldier punched the wall, growling in rage. Nyavosky nodded and gripped the man's shoulder reassuringly, before looking to Chase with a steely look in his eyes.
“Commander, we are leaving now, grab anything you need, because we will not be returning.” Chase managed to blink, before turning to look over the small apartment. So very little of true value was there, that he wasn't overly concerned. Still...the Marine went into action, grabbing his rucksack and tossing a few small pictures and mementos into it, stopping at a worn and ornate scabbard laying across the dresser. His great-grandfather’s old and well-used U.S. Cavalry sword, a beloved family heirloom. Chase grabbed it and hooked it by the scabbard onto his belt easily enough, turning to Nyavosky with the sack over his shoulder and Colt in hand, round ready and chambered. “Ready, sir.”
“We have to get to the Phoenix!” Nyavosky shouted, as the Humvee tore across the streets, its diesel engine roaring as they bounced over a curb and smashed through a bench. Chase clenched his teeth together as the wheel shuddered in his hands, but held steady. The sight of Refuge ahead filled him with a faint sense of hope, and he pressed down harder on the accelerator as the checkpoint approached. Civilians were streaming through the gates as a squad Army personnel tried to maintain the area's perimeter.
“Soldier!” Nyavosky bellowed, as Chase jumped on the brake and skidded to a stop in front of the gate. “Captain Alexei Nyavosky and Commander Kenneth Chase, we need entry now!” The Army corporal took a good luck at both of them, and then nodded.
“Good to go, sirs.” He looked over his shoulder at the guardhouse. “Open it up!” The man hollered, and the gate quickly rose up and out of the way. “Alright, go on in sirs, things are getting-”
“Incoming!” The Marine manning the Humvee's .50 cal shouted, as a sudden whistling noise filled the air. Only a few hundred feet away, explosions tore into buildings as artillery fired on the outer edges of the base, demolishing some of the civilian structures with the initial barrage. Nyavosky groaned, shaking his head before looking at Chase.
“Get us moving, my friend!” Chase needed no further encouragement. Nodding to the corporal with a knowing and respectful look, he stomped on the accelerator and took off down the straightway, even as the incoming artillery fire kept moving closer to Refuge. “This is Captain Nyavosky to Director Hudson, we need counter-battery fire on enemy artillery, I repeat, counter-battery fire on artillery!” Beside Chase, the Russian was speaking quickly into the dash-mounted radio.
“Copy that, Captain. I've got a little surprise for them.” Hudson's bass voice came back through the speakers, even as Chase watched a trio of vehicles emerge from the Refuge bunker. M270s...The Commander realized with a sense of relief. The fairly modern Multiple Rocket Launch System vehicles were formidable indeed. “Alright, we've got their locations locked, best cover your ears boys!” Each of the three M270s swiftly rotated the rocket launchers on their backs, in various directions as they each targeted different coordinates.
“This is Iron Hand, firin' now.” A voice with a thick Texan accent spoke, before bright flashes of light went off behind the cabs of each tracked vehicle, missiles blasting out of their holders and into the air. “Missiles away, 30 seconds ta impact.” The operator drawled, even as the M270s shifted into reverse and backed up into the hardened bunker once again.
“Alright, Nyavosky, Chase, get your asses inside now!” The Commander needed no further encouragement, and stomped on the pedal again, making the engine growl as the Humvee darted inside the facility. Chase cranked the wheel as he smashed down on the brake, letting the armored truck screech to a tire-burning stop facing the entrance, the gunner watching it intently.
“Let's move, Commander!” Nyavosky urged, kicking open the armor-padded door with surprising strength, before sprinting towards the bunker door with the M4 cradled in his arms. Chase followed with all due haste, the Colt back in its holster as it and the Bowie slapped against his legs from his sprint. Passing a newly-erected barricade of Marines with an MG, they headed down the hallway to the control room.
“Glad you two survived.” Hudson spoke briskly, coming up to them as they gained entrance from another group of Marines guarding the secure area. “We've got reports of serious damage to the town itself, and civilians are flooding the evac routes.” Chase nodded as Nyavosky stroked his beard, frowning at the report.
“For where, exactly?” The Russian asked, eyebrow raised. Hudson gave them a level stare.
“Some for here. Others...well.” He turned around, staring out at the Phoenix beneath them. “We can't fit everyone onto the ship. We're going to try and get as many of the others left behind to relative safety as we can.” Chase blinked, even as Hudson turned around with a haunted look in his eyes. “I could have done something to prevent this. I should have seen the signs.” He shook his head, then ran a hand through his extremely short hair. “You two will be the most senior-ranking officials onboard, I won't be coming along. Nyavosky...keep 'em safe.” Both men stared at him in shock, even as he shook off his melancholy mood.
“Now, we've already got the necessary personnel boarding and preparing the Phoenix for launch, but it's going to take at bare minimum another hour. We've got to hold off the Republic until then.” Hudson looked directly at Chase. “Son, I need you to keep them out of Refuge for at least that long, so that Nyavosky and I can get things squared away down here. Everything we've got that isn't going on the Phoenix-and even a few things that'll be loaded at the last minute- is at your call, alright?” The Commander almost had to close his jaw with his hand.
“I...” He blinked again. He'd never asked for this...but...hell, he didn't have a choice. “Aye aye, sir.” Chase saluted sharply, then turned on his heel and headed back into the hallway, taking a different route as he went for the armory. As the footsteps of the other man trailed off into the distance, Hudson looked at Nyavosky and nodded.
“Make your final preparations, while I make mine.” The Russian nodded, as Hudson turned back to the large control panel taking up half of the wall. Moving to and sitting in the chair in front of the main cluster of monitors, he tapped a button on the panel. “Mr. Scott, status?” He asked quietly.
“Director?” A deep, clear voice rose up from the speakers. “Scott here, sir. Engineering's fully-manned now, we're bringing everything online.” Hudson took a glance at one of the security monitors, watching Chase speaking with a few Marines.
“Is it ready?” It took a few moments for the reply.
“Well...all of the tests have been theoretical, and I can't guarantee it'll work like we're hoping-”
“Scott.”
“...Yes sir, it's ready.”
“Alright then.” Hudson sat back in his chair, watching the window with a faint curiosity. “Power it up.”
“Aye aye, Director.” Scott's voice was uneasy, but Hudson ignored it. They'd come too damned far now to be afraid to take a few risks. The survival of the Phoenix, and of the human race as a whole, rested on this one, incredible piece of technology. A sudden dimming of the lights for a few moments brought Hudson's attention to the room around him, before he looked back at the monitor. A few streaks of lightning had cascaded down the Phoenix's thankfully worker-free hull, then disappeared.
“What's its status, Mr. Scott?” Hudson leaned forward in his chair, hands pressed together in anticipation.
“Director Hudson...” Scott started quietly, as if in awe. “The wormhole generator is online.”
Luna blinked in surprise, looking up at the twinkling night sky swiftly. By the ancients...she wondered, as the feeling of something...anomalous, made itself present in her domain. Something that she'd never encountered before, in all of her years, even those banished to the moon. A source of energy that rivaled even her and her sister's enormous power. But...extraordinarily vague, one she could not pinpoint to any single location.
She stretched out her wings, taking leave of the balcony of her room, and flying up into the cool night with a burning curiosity. Should I alert sister? She thought quickly, then struggled with the idea. Since her return not even a year ago, she'd had enough problems adapting to the modern, drastically different Equestria that now lay below her. If she took this to her sister immediately, she could view it as a sign of difficulty of finishing the adaptation process, of not being able to handle things on her own, something Luna did not want.
The Princess of the Night soared high, darting above and through clouds as she pondered the odd occurrence. Tomorrow, she decided. If this...thing… remains among my stars when dawn comes tomorrow, I shall speak with Tia. With that thought secure in her mind, a slightly less-intrigued alicorn descended from the sky, returning to her balcony and opening the doors to her room. With one last glance back to the stars, she entered, and went to bed, entering a peaceful sleep within minutes.
“Firing for effect!” Chase dove into a sandbag bunker as the mortars behind him went off in a barrage, 81mm rounds arcing overhead to hammer the enemy that had taken up position only 100 yards away, in the recently-abandoned bunkers formerly occupied by Chase's own men. The perimeter had shrunk drastically in the past 50 minutes, and he'd lost good men and women as the fighting had grown more and more fierce. To make matters worse, the Republic had gone and made the fight nuclear. Half an hour ago, he'd had the horrific privilege of watching a mushroom cloud rise above the last known position of the remnants of the Colonial Army units.
“Copy that, keep up the fire!” He bellowed, before taking a peek over the sandbags. Heavy armor was beginning to join the fight, and the situation was about to go from bad to desperate. “Hudson, this is Chase, I'm going to need a damned ace card out here fast, it's getting FUBAR!” The Marine winced as the sound of a tank cannon firing pierced his ears, and a plume of dirt and rock erupted just a couple of yards away from his bunker.
“Standby, Chase.” Hudson's voice was distracted over the radio. “And..alright. I’m diverting an Odin to your position now.” The Commander paused, eyebrow raised in momentary confusion. A...what? His mental query was soon answer as the bunker's main door rumbled open, and out stepped something from a sci-fi fan's wet dreams. A walker standing nearly sixteen feet tall, heavily armored and gleaming a menacing black color. And it was quite obviously heavily-armed, as well. The ground shook as the mech moved with surprising speed to Chase's position, its slow jog well-coordinated.
“Well well now, looks like we meet again, pardner!” The man with the Texan drawl from before spoke over the mech's external speakers, and the enormous machine raised a hand to wave as a peal of laughter echoed through the air. That noise was then followed by the sound of another explosion, as a tank shell detonated right in front of the heavy mech. The right arm of the mech rose as it turned suddenly, the large rifle-like weapon mounted on it whining loudly before a bright flash and loud, metallic noise combined with its firing. Chase turned to look, and spotted an enemy Abrams MBT with a scarily large hole blown straight through the front of the turret, one that was sure to leave no one above the main hull alive.
“Hudson gave me orders to get ya inside now, Commander.” The Texan spoke from within the mech's cockpit, scanning the area as the enemy armor took cover to reassess the situation before continuing the assault. Chase looked around, only to see the rest of his troops falling back into the compound in as organized a fashion as they could muster. The frazzled Marine nodded weakly and gripped his ACR, before jogging towards the bunker door with the mech slowly lumbering along after him.
15 minutes later
“Good to see you still in one piece, my friend.” Nyavosky said tiredly as Chase entered the room. The Commander eyed the Russian, now garbed in full, armored combat gear, holding his M4 carbine once again. Chase nodded, shifting the rifle in his hands to a more comfortable position.
“You too, Captain.” The older man ignored the formality, turning to Hudson.
“Is she ready?” He asked, looking out at the Phoenix, the hull now lit by her own lights. The ship looked alive, and Chase couldn’t help but feel in awe now at the sight of it.
“As ready as we can get her.” Hudson confirmed from the master control station, hands racing across command consoles. “We need to get you all out of here soon; the Republic will breach the compound eventually.” He tapped a single key on the board and grinned in satisfaction as over a dozen status lights flashed green. “We’ve got internal automatic defenses online now, so we should be able to get even most of the military personnel onboard.” Hudson blinked, and then turned back to the console.
“Attention all remaining personnel, now hear this: fall back to the launch bay and board the Phoenix, man your positions and prepare for launch. That is all.” The Director shut off the P.A. system, and looked at the two. “Now, I want you both on that ship, ASAP.” The tone he used left no room for interpretation, even as Chase hesitated. “Go, soldier. I’ve made my peace with this.” Hudson turned to the console again, and slowly pulled a silver key from around his neck, before slotting it into the board. With a gentle twist, flashing yellow alarms sprang to life as the entire facility rumbled.
Outside of the room, in the launch bay, the Commander watched as the very ceiling split- revealing the above airstrip to be a cover-up for the Phoenix’s launch system. Running on the same principles as mag-lev trains, the ship would bring its engines to full power while the 5 mile long magnetic accelerator would bring the ship up to speed enough to help it break the Earth’s gravitational pull. Farther down the length of the accelerator, it began to angle upwards, eventually leaving the ground at a 45 degree angle.
“Now, they know what’s going on, we have to get you-“Hudson was cut off as the bunker complex suddenly shook violently, the ceiling collapsing inwards in the center of the room as the lights suddenly died. Chase was thrown off of his feet and against the wall, hard. Coughing and groaning as plaster and debris peppered him; he sat up and gripped his side, a few ribs screaming in protest.
“Agh...Nyavosky! Director Hudson!” He called out, climbing to his feet unsteadily, and grabbing his ACR again, flipping off the safety and yanking back on the bolt. “Is everyone okay?” The Commander cursed as he fumbled for his flashlight, pulling it out of a utility pocket and flipping the switch for the red-tinted light. He held it in one hand and the ACR in the other, scanning the room before stopping on the outline of a body nearly buried under rubble. “Shit!” He swore, stumbling towards it in a daze. “Aw, hell...” Chase hung his head, as he recognized the dead man as Hudson. God damn it, this is all falling apart... A quiet cough and a gasp caught his attention next, over the alarms that began sounding as the perimeter was breached.
“Chase...” Nyavosky's voice was strained with pain and fatigue, and the younger man whirled around to find him. Half crushed by a support beam was how Chase found him, and he rushed over, pulse racing with adrenaline and fear.
“Nyavosky! Stay with me, I'm gonna get you out of here.” He said with a hardened voice, mind working through the situation. Nyavosky was probably critically injured, hostiles were invading the facility, and everyone else was already falling back-
“No, my friend, I'm afraid you won't.” The Russian coughed hard and gasped, blood staining his lips. The man managed a faint grin, which seemed more like a death mask than anything else. “We both know I will not last more than a few more minutes. If I had to guess...massive internal trauma, no?” Chase closed his eyes and gripped the flashlight in his hand hard. The feeling of someone grasping his arm brought them back open.
“You have been a good friend to me, Kenneth.” Nyavosky rasped, blinking tiredly. “And you are a good soldier...a good man.” He coughed again, body convulsing. “Agh...they need you on that ship.” Nyavosky squeezed his arm again, but the grip was much weaker this time. “You must be there for them. You must save them.” He blinked, body going limp as the light faded from his eyes.
“Dammit, Alexei...” Chase whispered, as the man coughed one final time and then stopped moving entirely. “God damn it…” He knelt there for a moment in respect, and then looked up with a grim expression, grabbing the ACR once again. Chase strode towards the console, which was flickering faintly, just barely still working. His fist came down hard on the speaker button. “This is Commander Chase, to anyone left alive in here. Get the hell out, ASAP!” He turned away and looked to the elevator that would lead down to the ship’s main airlock and gangway, and started walking.
Even as he heard shouting coming from outside the bunker door, he stepped into the elevator and punched the down arrow, watching the grate slide closed in front of him before the elevator suddenly dropped, his stomach rising to his throat at the speed. Within a few seconds, he heard the sounds of an explosion up above, and narrowed his eyes. It’s going to be a close one. Even as the lights flickered inside the elevator, he kept his composure and breathing steady, and when the movement finally stopped, he stepped out onto the long walkway that led to the ship. The scale of the area awed him again for a moment, before he remembered just how close his opponents were. Looking back and above, Chase winced, and then started off for the ship’s airlock at a dead sprint.
“Are you the Commander?” A booming voice demanded, and the sound of a bolt being yanked back made Chase come to a teetering halt almost 5 yards from the entrance. From out of the main hatch a large, dark-skinned man in a naval uniform appeared, holding a UMP .45 in one hand.
“Commander Kenneth Chase, Colonial Marine Corps.” He barked, glancing over his shoulder cautiously. “The Captain and the Director are both dead, and we’ve got hostiles closing in fast.” The man blinked, then looked at the other with a solemn expression.
“Chief Engineer Robert Scott. Well, this is a Charlie-foxtrot.” He tapped the side of the headset he was wearing. “Bridge? Yeah, the Commander’s here. Captain Nyavosky is KIA. Yes, the chain of command is gonna be established.” He looked back to Chase. “Commander? You’re now in charge. You’d best get to the bridge, ASAP.” Another muffled explosion sounded behind him, and Chase whirled around with his rifle raised. “Now!” The other officer bellowed. “Engines are almost finished warming up, we can leave soon!” Chase nodded and sprinted past the man, entering the narrow confines of the Phoenix.
“What’s our status?” Chase called out, stepping onto the bridge as he finished struggling with the final securing of his g-suit, the somewhat bulky gear fitting snugly over his dark uniform.
“Engines are hot and primed, just waiting for the accelerator activation before we light 'em up.” Scott reported, slinging the submachine gun over his back. “I’m going down to Engineering sir, holler if you need me.”
“Jamming signals are active, nothing should be able to touch us during the launch.”
“Life support’s in the green.”
“All cargo and passengers are secure, Marines are at the ready and are standing by to repel any boarders.” The woman paused, uneasy. “Um…everyone who made it here, that is.” Chase gave her another look. Just a civilian…he thought numbly. This is fubar.
“Navigation is go, destination set and the computers have calculated the drive's abilities as best as they can.”
“Good.” The Commander stated tersely, feeling uncomfortable in his new role. “Ah…alright, everyone strap in.” Chase took the captain’s chair with a good deal of hesitation, but his voice was steady when he spoke next. “Navigation, bring the accelerators online, and prepare the explosive release bolts. Prepare for launch.” The entirety of the bridge crew burst into unorganized action, and the lack of unified training showed. Nonetheless, soon all were secured nervously at their stations, the man in the big seat the most nervous of all. A loud thump echoed through the ship as the gangway pulled back, retreating to the platform.
“Accelerators are coming online, sir.” He nodded, fingers digging into the arms of his chair. "Launching in t-minus 30 seconds."
______________________________________________________________________
Cheerful humming filled the main room of the timepiece store, as sunlight streamed in from the large, wide windows. Derpy watched as the stallion fiddled with the old watch, the internal cogs and gears getting prodded and poked as he hummed absent-mindedly.
“Alright…just about…there!” He exclaimed, as he tapped one last bit, before closing up the back and carefully winding up the watch.
“Thank you so much!” The mail pegasus gushed, leaning in to look upon her favorite watch. “What was wrong with it?” The other pony snorted in amusement, grinning widely.
“Oh, just some of that silly timey-wimey stuff, nothing to worry about!” Derpy smiled happily in response, as she turned her head to nose through her saddlebag, pulling a small sack of bits out and dropping it on the counter.
“Umm, okay then. But thanks, really. Here’s something for helping me.” Derpy looked up to see Doc Whooves, as they’d taken to calling the moderately eccentric and mysterious stallion, looking back and shaking his head.
“Oh, for that? No need, no need at all, happy to help with-“ He paused, and then blinked. Derpy could hear a faint whirring noise coming from the back of the shop, and raised an eyebrow in confusion.
“Umm…Doc?” She said hesitantly, as the expression on his face shifted into something akin to fear. “Mr. Whooves, are you okay?” At this, the brown stallion shook his head violently, before looking back at Derpy.
“Ah…yes, sorry.” He nudged the bag of bits back across the counter, and flashed her a genuine, if small, smile. “I was quite serious, no need for that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to close up shop for the day, alright?” She nodded, now very confused, and tucked the bag of bits back into her saddlebag as Whooves smiled nervously at her. The mailmare trotted out the door, hearing it close with a solid click behind her.
And immediately after, darted to the nearest window.
Derpy watched as the stallion bolted through the door, as a blue light lit up the room beyond in a steady strobe effect. Her eyes widened as Whooves pushed open the doors to a small blue box, and disappeared inside.
“What the...” She gasped, tilting her head, hopelessly lost.
“No no no no, not now!” The Doctor brought a hoof down on the console, hard enough to make the noise echo. “Not here!” He glared furiously at the display. “Not to them...” The pained whisper was much lower in volume, as the stallion brought his hoof back down to the floor, sighing and shaking his head. Lit up on the screen, very clearly, were a handful of words, repeated ominously.
Spatial rift detected. Spatial rift detected. Spatial rift detected.
