New Model Armyby est-halChaptersChapter 2: Settling In and Meeting the BossChapter 3: Run That By Me Again?Chapter 1: Home Shopping (revised, again)Chapter 2: Settling In and Meeting the BossChapter 2: Settling In and Meeting the Boss After a long and uneventful flight around the world, the 22nd Replica Battalion found themselves at their new headquarters, the Baikonur Cosmodrome Space Center in the arid and mountainous region of southern Kazakhstan. As the buyer was supposedly in the country, Armacham decided to acquire the antiquated space launch facility and integrate it with the battalion as part of a package deal, an unprecedented act of astoundingly good customer care. The fleet of transport planes that delivered the battalion to Kazakhstan had set down on a series of sizable airstrips not far off from the Cosmodrome. They began offloading their cargo, Replica soldiers and their vehicles filing out of the planes and onto the dirt runways before regrouping into their respective companies, platoons, and squads. As the rest of the battalion sorted themselves out in the sweltering desert heat, Replica Command, from within their private air-conditioned combination planes and mobile command centers, busied themselves with arranging a probe of their new base of operations. A convoy of light and heavy troop transports assembled and began an approach towards the long-abandoned base. They soon reached its outer perimeter, their high-power engines and titanium bullbars easily breaking through the rusty chainlink fences that purported to protect the restricted stretches of desert that was the Baikonur Cosmodrome. The convoy came to a complete stop as they reached the surface facilities of the base, kicking up clouds of dust as the vehicles simultaneously pulled their brakes. Their passengers disembarked and formed into teams before fanning out into the clusters of concrete and steel buildings, moving meticulously and with surgical precision as they swept the area for threats, finding them mostly in the form of roaches and other assorted vermin. One particular Replica hanged back at the parked vehicles, surveying his surroundings. Clad in green and black camouflage fatigues and body armor and wearing an advanced gas mask and respirator, he would have been largely indistinguishable from the other Replicas if not for the yellow “Ch1” stitched into the left breast and back of his armored vest. He put two gloved fingers to his left ear, activating a radio headset concealed beneath his headgear. “Command, this is Charlie Leader. We’ve reached the base’s surface facilities. We’re securing the area. Over.” he reported. There was a crackle of static before a response came. ”Copy that. Teams are to continue sweep and secure of all surface buildings only, then hold for further orders. Restriction of base’s sublevels upholding. Your team is to locate the central command bunker. Report back when you find it. Command out.” “Will do. Charlie Leader out.” The brief exchange over, Charlie Leader waved over a squad of similarly gas mask-equipped Replicas. Running over to him, they stood ready for whatever he was about to task them with. “We’re going to reconnoiter the area for the base’s central command bunker. According to base schematics, its primary entrance is at the northeastern edge from here.” he briefed them. “Yes sir!” his squad affirmed simultaneously in the same exact voice as each other. Charlie Leader nodded. “Good. Let’s move out!” At his word, they began trekking through the Cosmodrome’s surface facilities towards their objective, weaving between empty warehouses, weathered bunkers, and rusting scaffolding. After a few minutes of walking, they finally reached the command bunker’s main entrance. Charlie Leader stood before the partially open blast doors of the entrance, his automatic shotgun slung on his side and his hands behind his back as he took in the door’s rusted and weathered appearance with a critical eye. His squad stood behind him, their posture guarded and ready with weapons in hand. “I want this thing open, now.” Charlie Leader suddenly announced. His squad jumped at his words, splitting into two even groups, each taking hold of a door. “On three!” instructed a corporal among them. Receiving acknowledgements from each squad member, he began counting down. “One!” “Two!” “THREE!” As one, they began pulling open the blast doors, their combined superhuman strength easily overcoming years of rust buildup. The doors’ gears groaned in protest as they were forced into motion for the first time in a very long while. After some struggle, the blast doors were finally forced open… revealing another set of blast doors, this time fully sealed. The squad stared helplessly at the newly uncovered obstacle for a moment before turning their gaze to Charlie Leader, wordlessly pleading him for direction. The subcommander hadn’t moved an inch, his figure stiff and rigid. Finally, after a lengthy and uncomfortable silence, a single word escaped from the nozzle of his gasmask. “Shiiit…” Night had fallen upon the Cosmodrome a few hours later, the night sky sparkling high above the base’s defunct space rockets and their launch platforms. Despite the late hour, the entirety of the 22nd Replica Battalion was wide awake and active, elements of it moving to and fro around the base. Any Replica not on patrol or guard duty busied themselves with cleaning their new home, scrubbing away dust, rust, and all manner of filth and making sure everything was spic and span. The battalion’s combat support company in the meanwhile worked to restore the base’s utilities and install new equipment to supplement what couldn’t be repaired. Replica Command had set up an impromptu command post just outside the central command bunker, having deemed the interior of it unsuitable for operations, at least until the battalion’s janitorial staff could get around to dealing with it. A number of tents and canopies had been erected to temporarily house their command and control systems, the trunk space of a few SUVs and humvees also being utilized as desk space. Beneath one such canopy were the battalion’s subcommanders, who were currently milling over a table, its surface cluttered with various subdocuments from their mission briefing and a large map depicting an unworldly location. The map was quite unlike the kinds they were trained with, being more appropriate as a decorative office piece that a practical overlay of a locale. It was a large piece of very antiquated parchment, its paper aged a dull yellow hue. On it was a hand-drawn, artistically-rendered map of a country called “Equestria,” the homeland and true location of Lyra Heartstrings. As with their and the rest of the battalion’s reaction that their new commander was a mint unicorn with a picture of a lyre on her butt, the subcommanders didn’t bat an eye at the absurd notion of an entire land populated with such sapient pony beings and presumably other mythological creatures, only concerning themselves with how they were going to get there. Their briefing addressed that particular concern, speaking of an old subterranean rail system built within a large cave system far below the Cosmodrome, made accessible by way of a large freight elevator conveniently located on base. It was from this apparently cross-dimensional hole-in-the-ground that the 22nd Replica Battalion would find their way into Equestria and ultimately to their master. Once more, the subcommanders didn’t at all question the physics-defying premise of a cave with the properties of an Einstein-Rosen bridge deep within the Earth’s crust leading to an entirely new world filled with talking ponies, taking all of it as true. Their briefing printed on official Armacham stationary said so. They continued to examine the map of Equestria, familiarizing themselves with its terrain and locales until they knew them like the back of their hands. Something that jumped out at them about their future theater of operation were the names of many of the cities and towns labeled on the map, being plays on real world locales and modified to pertain to horses. Manehattan, Trottingham, Canterlot, Van Hoover, though some weren’t as subtle, such as “Ponyville,” a small town near the geographic center of the country. Not a chortle or snicker was heard. Ponyville was also notable for the red circle drawn around it and an arrow and the words “Primary Directive’s Location” indicating it. Southeast of Ponyville, past a large forested region labeled the “Everfree Forest,” another more reasonably named town was also circled, Dodge Junction, and was indicated as their “Point of Emergence.” The subcommanders quickly interpreted the extraneous markings as their commander’s exact location in Equestria and the battalion’s point of entry in this new world respectively. They began closely examining the town of Dodge Junction and its surrounding terrain, it very likely being the first piece of pony civilization they would encounter. Apparently situated in a desert, the town seemed like a relatively minor settlement, little more than a glorified stagecoach way station. They likely would have paid little mind to it if not for its close proximity to their point of entry into Equestria. Something about Dodge Junction that did catch their attention was the rail line that ran through it and straight on to Ponyville, a highly attractive feature of the otherwise unimpressive frontier settlement, making a mental note to commandeer it as soon as it was practical. The subcommanders and the rest of the command staff continued to formulate designs upon Equestria, drawing up plans for any contingency that may arise in the country. From Appleloosa to Manehattan, no inch of terrain was discounted in their considerations. Replica Command was thorough like that. CRASH! Their scheming was interrupted by a loud crash just outside the canopy. They all looked over to see an overturned cart, boxes of ammunition split everywhere and a pair of heavies standing off to the side and looking guilty. They all turned their gaze towards one of their fellows, a Replica decked in a blue and white uniform and body armor and wearing a fully-enclosed ballistics helmet, a small red light blinking just beneath its polarized visor. The code “T114” was printed on his armored vest. “It’s your turn, Echo Leader.” one of them dully said. A barely perceptible sigh escaped from his helmet as Echo Leader nodded and trudged off towards the cart and heavies, winding himself up for a screaming session. It was a couple days later when the 22nd Replica Battalion was finally settled in their new base of operations, the previously dilapidated Soviet-era facilities now restored to an acceptable level. The clone soldiers made themselves comfortable in the Cosmodrome’s rather spartan personnel facilities while their vehicles and equipment were securely tucked away in the various hangars, warehouses, and storage bunkers that littered the base. A distance away, on the airstrips that serviced the base, a small number of the transport planes that brought the battalion to Kazakhstan sat idle, having been left behind for their use should the need arise. Replica Command had dispatched one of their own to tour the Cosmodrome and perform a full inventory of all the battalion’s assets. Their delegate for the tedious and time-consuming task was Bravo Leader, the subcommander charged with the battalion’s covert and stealth operations. His inspection had unearthed a few pleasant surprises in the outlaying storage areas that would nicely complement what they had brought with them. He discovered in one such storage area a number of Russian-manufactured T-55 main battle tanks, BMP infantry fighting vehicles, and various other armored fighting vehicles. While most of them were beyond repair from years of neglect, a few still seemed serviceable. Pleased to have found something to busy the support company with, he moved on. In another storage area he found a significant volume of construction material and excavation equipment in pristine condition, having been left untouched in their original packaging and shrink wrap for the longest time. They would prove invaluable when they eventually established themselves in Equestria. The end of his base-wide inspection tour found Bravo Leader standing before a large elevator shaft, built in a massive chamber beneath a high-security storage bunker. It was this freight elevator according to the mission briefing that would deliver the battalion into the cave system below the Cosmodrome and ultimately into Equestria. The shaft was somewhat lit surprisingly enough, dim lighting fixtures jutting from its dirtied concrete walls at regular intervals for most of its length. The elevator itself was a large, open metal platform with black and yellow hazard stripes bordering its edges. It could easily carry multiple heavy vehicles, being meant to ferry large volumes of materials at once. Bravo Leader stood at the elevator platform’s edge, a platoon of infantry and crates of lighting equipment behind him. He looked at an elevated booth to the side of the elevator, specifically at the Replica soldier inside manning the elevator’s controls. The subcommander gestured at him, giving the order to start up the elevator’s mechanisms and send them down. Complying, the addressed Replica dutifully pulled a lever. A metallic clanking of gears suddenly resounded in the chamber and echoed down throughout the shaft below. There was a pause before the platform suddenly jerked to life, sending more than a few of its passengers stumbling. With a final groan, the elevator began a steady descent. It would be nearly two hours before it reached the bottom. The Replicas were met with pitch-black darkness upon reaching the bottom of the shaft, only their headlamps and combat lights mounted on their weapons saving them from total blindness. Bravo Leader, however, didn’t share in his subordinates’ visibility problems, the red glow of his night vision goggles piercing into the darkness and showing him all that the darkness concealed. He didn’t find it much to look at. “Set up those flood lamps. I want this place lit up nice and good.” he ordered the platoon. At once, they hastily set up and activated said flood lamps and soon their environment was at least somewhat illuminated, revealing it in all its ruined glory. The soldiers beheld an absolutely cavernous tunnel, its rock surface bearing scorch marks as testament to the explosives used to carve it out. Degraded heavy-duty power and communication cables ran along its walls, broken at various points and splitting off into the other smaller tunnels that comprised the cave system. A pair of train tracks extended along the floor parallel to each other and into the darkness in either direction, far beyond the power of the Replicas’ lighting equipment. “First and second squads, hold here at the elevator. Third squadron, check out that direction and mark with LEDs at fifteen foot intervals. Fourth squadron, on me. We’re doing the same in the other direction.” Bravo Leader directed the platoon. Receiving affirmative replies from all, he set down the main tunnel with his squad in one direction, the other doing the same in the opposite direction. He and his squad moved carefully through the main tunnel, hugging its walls and place LED lamps at regular intervals to mark their path and allow them to find their way back. The squad had bumped into their commanding officer more than a few times, his incredibly quiet footsteps and grey light-absorbing photochemical fatigues and body armor making him nearly invisible in the darkness that permeated the tunnel. They eventually reached what appeared to be a service depot for the rail system, complete with a turntable station and enclosed train car lot. Tucked away between some servicing platforms was a pair of old diesel engines, their machinery exposed and yellow paintjobs chipping. Beyond them was the enclosed lot, a large warehouse-like structure built within a massive chamber, a multitude of boxcars and flatcars stored within it. Bravo Leader proceeded with his squad onto an elevated platform and surveyed the depot in its entirety from the heightened vantage point, noting the rusting machinery and piping and decayed bits of carpentry and other organic debris that cluttered the area. The various pieces of machinery were in particularly bad shape, their gears and paneling rusted into dysfunction or missing completely and their wiring exposed from their conduits and strewn about. The depot overall was afflicted with all manner of messiness that would certainly keep whatever poor unit of the battalion that was delegated the task of cleaning it up busy for quite some time. Wondering if the depot and any of its contents were still salvageable and not really wanting to have to deal with it himself, Bravo Leader directed his squad back towards the elevator, intending to send for an inspection crew from the support company and pass the mess onto them. The next day found a small convoy of armored SUVs, humvees, and armored trucks refitted and repurposed as personnel carriers traveling through the tunnels below the Cosmodrome. Trailing them were two M1075 heavy-load cargo transport vehicles, their huge flatbeds carrying two Hind D helicopter gunships. Not far behind the convoy was the entirety of the battalion’s combat support company, working feverishly to restore the rail lines back to working order. Deciding they had delayed long enough, Replica Command organized a taskforce to traverse the tunnels and breach the dimensions into Equestria. Two platoons strong, the force was tasked with reconnoitering the battalion’s entry point in the pony-populated land and establishing an initial outpost there. From there, they would fly out to Ponyville and finally make contact with the commander and start receiving their orders. The convoy moved at a snail’s pace, the darkness of the main tunnel severely hampering their visibility and thus their speed. Their only source of illumination their own headlights and mounted floodlights, the vehicles inched carefully along the train tracks, paying great mind to each other’s position so as to not rear-end one another. They had been moving through the tunnel for almost three hours, their necessarily slow speed greatly contributing to their lengthy travel time. In the passenger seat of a humvee near the rear of the convoy sat Alfa Leader, the head of the battalion’s force reconnaissance unit. Having been bestowed the honor of leading the contact team into Equestria and being the first member of Replica Command to meet the commander, he was absolutely determined to not have any cock-ups during this operation. In his lap was a scanned image of the map of Equestria, the color of the original noticeably absent in the grayscale reproduction. Picking it up, he mentally plotted a course that would take the contact team past Dodge Junction and over the Everfree Forest and straight onto Ponyville. He carefully looked over the terrain his decided path would take them over, making note of any landmarks that would aid in their navigation. His musings over the map was interrupted by a crackle of static from the humvee’s radio. ”Sir, lead vehicle. We’re seeing what looks like daylight up ahead, about twelve meters out. I believe we’re about to hit the surface. Over.” Alfa Leader nodded before grabbing the radio piece to respond. “Roger. All convoy elements, full stop. Alright, here’s how we’re going to do this. One vehicle will move through the light at a time and give an all-clear over the radio before the next one can proceed. Keep your speed slow and steady. Acknowledged?” Receiving affirmative replies from every vehicle, he gave the lead vehicle the distinct honor of going first. Up at the front of the convoy, a tan humvee slowly started towards the literal light at the end of the tunnel, its all-terrain wheels grounding against the tunnel’s dirt floor. It soon disappeared behind the light, its blinding white glare completely engulfing it. Moments pass without any response from it, the only sounds in the tunnel the rumble of the vehicles’ engines. Just as Alfa Leader began fearing the worst, the radio emitted a beeping tone. ”Sir! We’ve emerged from the tunnel. We’re alright. We appear to be at the foot of a mountain. Terrain is suitable for light and heavy vehicles. We’re moving clear of the tunnel’s entrance, you can start sending the rest of the convoy through. Over.” Holding back a relieved sigh, Alfa Leader began sending the convoy through the tunnel’s end one vehicle at a time. The tunnel had inexplicably ejected the convoy out onto the surface despite originally starting out deep underground and having never gone on an upward incline even once. The contact team found themselves at the foot of a mountain, just as the lead vehicle had reported. Before them was a vast desert, its expansive terrain occasionally marked by a mesa or mountain. A small town that was presumably Dodge Junction was not far off from their location, the only locale of civilization they could see for miles around. The vehicles fanned out and created something of a perimeter around the tunnel’s entrance. Their passengers dismounted from them and under the direction of the platoon leaders began taking up sentry positions while others were ordered to sort themselves into patrols before moving out to sweep the surrounding area. Alfa Leader’s humvee drove out from the tunnel and parked nearby its entrance, the shadow of the mountain sheltering the vehicle and its passengers from the blazing midday sun. Stepping out of his vehicle, he looked around before waving over the platoon leaders, who had just finished sorting out the first watch. “Start setting up the outpost. I want it up and running by the time I get back. And send someone back through the tunnel to inform Command that we’ve reached Equestria and are proceeding with the mission as planned.” he instructed them. “Yes sir!” they both replied at the same time before running off to delegate the tasks to some other lower-ranking Replicas. Replicas not posted as lookouts or on patrol relegated themselves to manual labor, unloading containers of equipment and materials from their vehicles and setting up a number of tents and camouflage canopies that would comprise the battalion’s initial outpost in Equestria. The M1075s finally emerged from the tunnel and drove into the center of the perimeter, their speed slow and steady as to not upset their cargo. Slowing to a stop, they began the arduous process of offloading the massive gunships from their flatbeds. The trucks’ mechanized loaders whirred to life, the flatbeds upon which the helicopters currently sat strapped to beginning to slowly slide out of place. Hydraulic stabilizers unfolded and extended from beneath them to hold up the weights of the Hinds. After a slight pause, the flatbeds began descending, their mechanisms whirring in slight strain. Soon after, the Hinds were finally offloaded, their extended landing gear resting on the desert floor. Their pilots circled them, closely inspecting every square inch of their fuselage and propellers to ensure not a single bolt was out of place. They soon declared both aircraft airworthy and took their places in the cockpits. Two eight-man teams boarded the Hinds along with one REV6 powered armor unit. Alfa Leader waved over a small team of Tactical troopers, their blue and white uniforms contrasting greatly with the digital forest camouflage fatigues and body armor of himself and the rest of his unit. Boarding the helicopter, he signaled the pilots to take off. The helicopters’ propellers began making motion, their rotations becoming faster and faster until the Hinds were airborne and en route. Cherry Jubilee stood out on the back porch of her ranch home, taking in the fresh morning air. She looked out at the cherry trees of her orchard, smiling as a light wind blew some of the trees’ pink leaves off and caused them to dance about in the breeze. It was fast approaching noon and she had left her office to call the field workers to lunch. Just as she was about to holler out at them, a sudden and powerful gust of wind nearly blew her off her hooves. Her workers began panicking at something in the sky, taking cover beneath carts and behind the cherry trees. Looking up, the orchard boss caught sight of two very big and very mean looking aircraft. Their overall shape was vaguely reptilian, reminiscent of a crocodile’s head. Their hulls were of a grey and black coloration and camouflage patterning, making for a rather bewildering and menacing sight. The method of their flight was most unusual, relying on massive propellers for lift and control, a loud and rapid chopping emitting from their rotations. As quickly as they appeared, the Hinds had already zoomed past the orchard in the direction of the Everfree Forest far beyond Dodge Junction. Cherry Jubilee could only gawk at the retreating helicopter gunships as they flew off into the distance, leaving behind frightened and confused ponies in their wake. “What in blazes…” The Hinds’ flight had seen them and their passengers over desert and curiously a cherry orchard before the thick forest they presumed was the Everfree that now stretched far and wide beneath them. Alfa Leader looked out at the forested expanse, unable to see the forest floor through the thick canopy of trees. As the forest flowed past his vision, a break in the monotonous greenery below caught his attention. The ruins of a large stone structure, perhaps a castle or fortress of some kind, sat in a large clearing, overgrowth from the forest having overtaken much of it. He made a mental note of it as a potential hardpoint should the battalion ever find itself operating in the forest. The helicopters continued above the forest for the next hour, the monotone of endless trees and assorted greenery unceasing. At long last, the forest began to rescind and give way to civilization, a small town that was presumably Ponyville, given its close proximity to the Everfree Forest as depicted on the map. As they drew closer to the town, Alfa Leader and the rest of the team began feeling a strange psychic compulsion, an inexplicable draw towards what looked like a park. Overwhelmed by the unknown feeling, he directed the pilots to adjust the Hinds’ flight path towards the park, intending to investigate it thoroughly. Said compulsion didn’t include a desire to be discreet about it. Lyra stared up at the blue sky above, spying the occasional cloud that was left unattended by the town’s weather team. She was currently laying prostrated upon her back on a park bench, her forelegs folded behind her head and her hind legs crossed. Waiting for her superhuman to arrive was becoming a tedious affair, over four weeks having passed already. With no obligations to attend to that day, she decided to whittle the remaining hours of the day away with a session of cloud watching in the park. Already she had spotted a number of clouds that didn’t resemble anything other than a cloud and her excitement was only rising. “Ugh! Sooo boooooored…” Lyra groaned, beginning to flick her horn in a half-hearted attempt to alleviate her boredom that laid upon her head like a big head-mounted pancake. Her idle horn-flicking was interrupted by the sound of propellers loudly chopping through the air, the noise coming from the direction of the Everfree Forest. Sitting up, she looked over the bench and was met with a bewildering and utterly terrifying sight. Two large alien aircraft were approaching from over the forest with great speed. They quickly overtook the park, their rapid appearance, imposing size, and unknown but likely hostile intentions being more than reason enough for the few park goers at the time to flee in abject terror, screaming at the top of their lungs. Lyra, however, didn’t join them, instead remaining rooted in her seat on the bench, wide-eyed at the flying machines hovering above. Their sides suddenly folded up before coils of rope unfurled from them, their length reaching the ground. The strangest looking humanoid beings emerged from the openings and began sliding down the ropes one by one, their numbers on the ground eventually reaching nearly two dozen. The beings were clad in what appeared to be camouflage and armor, denoting a militaristic nature on their part. They wore futuristic looking helmets with polarized visors over a full-face mask, their faces completely hidden by them. They began fanning out into the park, assuming defensive positions and firing a few warning shots into the air with their weapons to encourage the few remaining ponies to overcome their sudden weakness of knees and heart conditions and clear out of the park. A group of them turned their attention to Lyra, who had yet to move from her spot on the bench, and began walking towards her. Their approach nearly caused the unicorn’s heart to seize up in sheer terror, her mind racing with myriads of theories as to their possible intentions towards her, none of them friendly or pleasant. As they drew closer, she noticed a few of them were decked in solid blue and white uniforms and armor as opposed to the camouflage patterning of the others, their sharp appearance giving an air of authority and command. They encircled her completely, leaving no room for escape. Time seemed to slow for the mint unicorn as the alien beings stood in an enclosed circle around her. Her life began flashing before her eyes, every milestone and notable moment of her life being replayed in her mind in vivid detail… Her early childhood in Canterlot… Moving to Ponyville… Pinkie Pie nearly giving her a heart attack at her welcoming party… Meeting Bon Bon at her welcoming party… An encounter of an explicit nature with Bon Bon the night of her welcoming party… Lyra’s flashback was interrupted mid-blush when one of the aliens in forest camouflage walked up to her, undoubtedly to finish her off. She dropped to her stomach and covered her head with her forelegs, waiting for the killing blow. Moments passed, her expectations of doom going unfulfilled. Curiosity overtaking her fear, she peaked out from her forelegs to find the alien being holding out a booklet of some sort towards her. She stared dumbly at it and the one presenting it to her, utterly confused at the unexpected and markedly non-hostile action. She tentatively reached out and took the booklet into her hooves. They all suddenly stood at attention, their posture straight and rigid. “Ma’am, Alfa Leader, battalion subcommander and head of Alfa Company, reporting for duty.” the one who gave her the booklet suddenly spoke, his voice filtered by an electronic voice changer. Lyra could only say one thing in response. “Huh?” Author's Note And the stage is (re)set... Chapter 3: Run That By Me Again?Chapter 3: Run That By Me Again? “Huh?” Lyra gawked at Alfa Leader and his subordinates, who returned her dumbfounded expression with the upmost patience. The mint unicorn was at a complete loss of the situation before her. She mentally replayed the events that had just occurred, hoping a recap of things would help her make sense of just what was going on… A group of heavily armed and armored aliens had just stormed and taken over the park, deploying from the most unusual rotary aircraft that now buzzed overhead like extremely angry and heavily armed giant metal wasps. Scaring off the few picnics and strolling lovers that were there at the time, they proceeded to encircle her in a manner that suggested they were about to send her to the great Faust in the sky, and just when her life began flashing before her eyes, they presented her with a booklet and stood at attention, apparently regarding her as a supreme authority of some sort. The synapses in Lyra’s brain fired furiously as they attempted to make sense of the bizarre and terrifying situation before her. Alas, the only return from her brain was a resounding “huh?” “Umm… could you maybe run that by me again?” she asked cautiously, a nervous smile adorning her face. “You are our commander, and we are awaiting your orders.” Alfa Leader simply stated. A Tactical trooper indicated the booklet Alfa Leader presented her with. “Perhaps the documentation can better elaborate things for you, ma’am.” Lyra gaped at them for a moment before heeding the trooper’s suggestion. She looked over the glossy, granite-colored cover of the booklet, noting the title printed on it, “Armacham Technology Corporation: Variant VI Replica Supersoldiers - Customer’s Guide.” Beneath the title was a curious symbol that was presumably this corporation’s logo, a trio of squares configured into a triangular formation. Her eyes darting between the booklet and the Replicas, she slowly opened it up to its first page and began reading… Thank you for purchasing Armacham Technology Corporation’s Premier Variant VI Replica Supersoldiers. You now have at your disposal the ultimate warriors, capable of action far beyond that of even the best trained special forces units. Capable, fearless, and unswervingly loyal, your new Replica Battalion is your one-stop solution for any military situation. Whether it be providing security, policing, hostage rescue, search and rescue, counterterrorism, counterinsurgency, and everything in between, there’s no mission they can’t handle. Lyra’s head suddenly snapped up, her left eye twitching slightly as she processed the implications of the word “battalion.” While not a military buff by any measure, she did have a vague understanding of how big such a formation was. “Uh, it s-says here there’s a b-battalion of you guys. That’s like, a-a t-thousand s-soldiers, right?” she asked with a noticeable stutter, afraid of the answer she might receive. “The battalion numbers fifteen hundred individual soldiers. Do you wish to bring in more?” Alfa Leader asked. “F-fift-teen h-hundr-red!?” Lyra stammered out, her horn sparking with a bit of magic to indicate her brain shorting out in the most spectacular fashion. There was only one way she could react to the news that there were over a thousand heavily armed alien supersoldiers in Equestria that were completely sworn to her. She fainted. Lyra’s eyes slowly cracked open, the sunlight dancing on her eyelids gently coaxing the sleep form them. She brought a hoof to her forehead, rubbing away her disorientation. Regaining all her senses, she found herself laying on a foldable cot beneath the still propellers of the now landed Hind, the other currently buzzing an apple orchard on the edge of town and getting shouted at by an elderly earth pony mare for interrupting her nap. The Tactical troopers stood over her, apparently having kept guard over her comatose form. The other Replicas were busy patrolling the park and keeping watch, maintaining their cordon of the area. The REV6 powered armor unit was also now on scene, its imposing size and heavy armaments not sending a friendly message to any who dared approach the park. “Ugh… wha’ happaned?” Lyra groaned as she slowly sat up, blinking away the last of her dizziness. “You fainted, ma’am. The medic examined you and reported no cause for concern.” Alfa Leader informed her. “Oh… how long was I out?” Lyra asked as she looked herself over while her cheeks adopted a slight red tinge, rather discomforted at the thought of having an alien poke and prod her while she was unconscious. “Ten minutes.” “Oh, okay.” She looked out at the park, idly watching as the Replicas continued to ensure the complete abandonment of the park with their militant posture and readied weapons. She began feeling around for the booklet Alfa Leader had given her earlier, subconsciously desiring it as an emotional crutch for the incredible situation that had just slapped her about the face. Not finding it, she inquired the subcommander about it. “Hey, where’s that little book? That ‘customer’s guide’ thingy?” A gloved hand suddenly held out the item in question towards her, eliciting a surprised squeak from the unicorn. Reaching out to take it, Lyra’s eyes were drawn to the Replica’s appendage, noting the five nimble digits she had grown to be so fascinated and intrigued with. ’Fingers… Hands…’ No longer dazed and disorientated, she looked carefully at Alfa Leader and his subordinates, taking in their appearance with growing familiarity and excitement. Bipedal, upright stance and posture without need of a tail, presumably flat-faced if the general shape of their headgear was any indication, technology inconceivable to ponykind, fingers and hands… ’They’re…’ “Umm… can I ask you guys something?” she asked the Replica as she accepted the booklet, wanting to confirm her suspicions. The Replica nodded. “Ready.” Taking a breath, Lyra asked the question who’s answer would finally vindicate her. “Are you… humans?” “We are Replicas, clones derivative of human DNA. So, in essence, yes.” he answered in a clinical tone. The mint unicorn felt a swirl of emotions at the soldier’s dry response, astonishment that there were actual, live humans before her, growing trepidation of having over a thousand of them at her command, and the slightest smug satisfaction at having been right all along. Feeling overwhelmed by it all, Lyra decided to find someone to drag into her panic and validate what was happening and assure her that she wasn’t descending into madness and was merely hallucinating these “Replicas” in a fit of psychosis. “Uh, I need to go get somepony real quick! Just, stay here, okay?” she asked as she climbed out of the cot, Alfa Leader and a Tactical trooper helping her to her hooves. “Shall a team accompany you, ma’am?” Alfa Leader asked her. “NO! No, that’s alright. I’ll be fine, really! Just stay here, please?” she pleaded him. “We shall remain here, then.” Lyra sighed in slight relief, happy that the Replicas were as obedient as the customer’s guide claimed them to be. “Okay! I’ll be right back!” Receiving an assurance that they would still be there, Lyra galloped towards town at full speed, intending to collect a certain beige earth pony with a rather big sweet tooth. Bon Bon nervously looked out the window of her sweets shop, her eyes scanning the outside for any signs of trouble. A panic at the park had spread to the rest of Ponyville, vacating the streets of nearly all activity. Her shop was not spared, the few customers she had at the time getting swept up in the panic and confusion of their fellow ponies and bolted out the door, nearly breaking its bell in the process. The few loud cracks and strange buzzing sound off in the distance didn’t at all assure her of matters… “BON BOOOOOON!” came a shrill voice, interrupting her morbid musings. Lyra, her roommate and longtime best friend, burst through the door of her shop and slammed it behind her before flipping the closed sign to “open,” apparently having missed that it had already been adjusted. “Whoa! Lyra, what’s going on? Do you know what’s got the whole town scared?” Bon Bon asked her friend, noting her winded state. Lyra sputtered and made frantic, indiscernible motions with her forelegs before anything intelligible came out. “Park! Replicas! Special order! Humans! Supersoldiers!” she rattled off, unable to string the words together into a coherent sentence. Bon Bon whistled sharply and waved at Lyra, shushing the hysterical unicorn mare. “Hey! HEY! What the hay are you talking about Lyra!? What’s going on in the park? Is that why everypony’s hiding? And… did you say ‘human super-replica soldiers?’ What?” she asked, thinking her friend had finally lost her mind. “Uggh! I’ll just show you!” Lyra growled out in a frustrated manner as she grabbed Bon Bon’s hoof and began dragging her out the door. “W-wait! It isn’t safe outside! We should stay indoors! At least let me lock up first!” Bon Bon pleaded while fumbling with her keys. “No time!” “Here.” Lyra said, indicating the Replica-occupied park. She had led Bon Bon through the empty streets of Ponyville, curious eyes peaking at them from behind closed shutters and drawn blinds, wondering just what the lyre player and candy maker were up to amidst the chaos that struck the town earlier. Bon Bon’s previously worried demeanor had deteriorated into near-catatonic fear as Lyra dragged her past the Replicas patrolling at the park’s edge, who curiously stood aside and allowed them through. The beige earth pony’s eyes darted all around the park under lockdown, from the massive Hind that was at rest by the fountain like a sleeping dragon, the several Replica soldiers that returned her gaze from behind their helmet’s polarized visors, and the REV6 that she knew was tracking her every movement, electronic all-vision eyes boring into her from beneath the egg-shaped armored carapace. “W-wha-what…” she quietly stammered out, her legs turning to jelly and beginning to violently quake as every neuron in her brain screamed at her to grab Lyra and run for the hills. As if sensing her intentions, a pair of Replicas came up behind her, the sound of their bootfalls announcing their presence and disabusing her of trying to make a break for it. “Remember that ‘special order’ I told you about?” Lyra began, taking a casual tone to try and keep her friend calm. It didn’t. “What the HAY did you do!?” Bon Bon screeched as she grabbed Lyra’s throat and began violently shaking her to and fro, her fear and terror of the Replicas turning into confused rage towards Lyra. “Gak!” At once, the barrels of half a dozen rifles were shoved into Bon Bon’s face, the soldiers none too happy with her throttling their unicorn master. “Ehehehe… sorry…” she sheepishly apologized with a nervous grin, releasing her now addle-headed friend. Gasping for air, Lyra waved them off. “It’s okay, guys. She’s a friend.” she assured them. Complying, they lowered their weapons and resumed their guard, though a few kept their eyes on Bon Bon, the fingers of their supporting hands drumming against their guns. Now infinitely more fearful of the supersoldiers that for some strange reason seemed completely beholden to her best friend, she began interrogating Lyra about them, a part of her not really wanting to know. “What in Tartarus are these guys!? And why are they listening to you!?” she demanded, fixing the mint unicorn with an angry and accusing stare. Lyra sighed as she worked up the courage to look Bon Bon in the eye and explain herself. “Well, like I was saying… remember that ‘special order’ I told you about a couple weeks ago?” “Yeah? A ‘build-your-own-human kit’ or something, right?” Bon Bon replied, quirking an eyebrow. Lyra shook her head. “Not that, but ‘my very own superhuman,’ from that, uh… ‘special imports company,’ remember?” “Yeeaahh…” the earth pony drew out slowly, really disliking where her friend’s explanation was going. “Well…” Lyra held up a hoof, gesturing at the Replicas and the Hind gunship behind her with a sheepish smile. Bon Bon’s eyes widened into saucers as she processed everything Lyra had just told her. “Oh, for ponies’ sake… Really, Lyra?” she asked exasperatedly, facehoofing. “Well, I got a real bargain for them…” Lyra weakly offered. “And what would that be?” “Five hundred bits for a battalion?” Bon Bon’s eyes strained themselves once more. “A battalion!? That’s like, a thousand soldiers!” she half-shouted. “Fifteen hundred, actually…” “WHAT!?” Bon Bon screamed, ready to pounce on the unicorn. The clicking bolt of a readied assault rifle reminded the beige earth pony to mind her manners. Calming herself, she began chewing Lyra out for the incredible circumstances she managed to create for herself. “First off, how in Equestria did you get a hold of an entire battalion of these guys!? I mean, AN ENTIRE BATTALION!? Just, how!?” “Well, I really shouldn’t tell you, but… have you ever heard of a company called Dis and Qordial?” Lyra asked. “Not really…” Bon Bon replied, her curiosity growing about the privileged information her friend was apparently privy to. “Well, before I tell you anything, you have to promise me you won’t tell anypony else what I’m about to tell you. I could get in a lot of trouble!” Lyra said in complete seriousness, looking intently into the other pony’s eyes. “Alright, alright, I promise.” Bon Bon assured her. “Pinkie Promise?” The sweets shop owner blinked at her best friend’s invocation of the ultimate confidence, wondering just what she was getting herself into. “Okay, Pinkie Promise.” she repeated. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Lyra began revealing to her lifelong plebian friend the secret existence of the “special interests firm” that was Dis and Qordial Limited. “Only Equestria’s nobility know about it. It’s a Trottingham company that caters to the… unusual tastes of the country’s elite families.” “Unusual tastes? Like what?” Bon Bon asked, now VERY curious about the secret guilty pleasures of Equestrian society’s upper echelons. “Oh, anything, really. Imported meats like veal and sirloin. They also do more ‘far out there’ stuff like a little vacay in another dimension. Uncle Fancypants says those are real fun.” she finished on a high note, smiling. Bon Bon’s face went green. “M-mm-meat? Nobles eat meat?” she stuttered, nauseated by the thought. “Hey, don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it. It’s a good source of protein!” Lyra said with a lopsided grin, amused at the candy maker’s significant discomfort at the idea. Gagging noises and another facehoof. “Oh, sweet Celestia, Lyra… Anything else I should know about you?” The unicorn began kicking at the ground, shifting her gaze upwards in a smarmy manner. “Well…” “Contact!” one of the Replicas suddenly called. At once, all of them snapped their weapons up and aimed at something in the sky. Before any of them could fire a shot, a polychromatic blur swooped down and snatched Lyra and Bon Bon, taking back to the air with them in the blink of an eye. The blur turned out to be a cyan pegasus with a rainbow mane and tail, a look of determination on her face as she hefted the unicorn and earth pony. “Don’t worry, guys! I’ve got you!” the pegasus shouted as she rapidly put distance between themselves and the Replicas, who sprinted after the kidnapper of their commander and her friend. The landed Hind started up its engines while the other began an aerial pursuit of the three airborne pony mares right over Ponyville. “Rainbow!? The hay are you doing!?” Lyra shouted at the pegasus, earning a perplexed and slightly annoyed look from her. “Uh, I’m saving you and Bon Bon? Duuh…” Rainbow Dash dryly replied, glancing behind themselves to see both helicopter gunships chasing after them. “Well, we don’t need saving! Just put us down!” Lyra demanded, unhappy about being taken from her superhumans. “WHAT!?” Rainbow and Bon Bon yelled simultaneously. “Lyra, have you finally flipped your lid!? You and Bon Bon are about to be vaporized or eaten by a bunch of alien monsters, and you don’t want to be saved from that!? What’s with you!?” Rainbow asked, her speed slowing as confusion overtook her priorities. Lyra only shook her head, denying the pegasus’ claims. “They weren’t about to vaporize or eat us, and they’re not aliens or monsters! Well, they MIGHT be aliens, but that’s beside the point! They’re not dangerous, so just put us down!” Rainbow could only gawk at her, an agape expression on her face. “You HAVE lost it. Or those aliens used some kind of mind ray or something on you and fried your brain. Twilight will know what to do with you.” she said as she adjusted her flight path towards the library. “No I haven’t and no they didn’t! Just let go!” Lyra insisted as she began struggling from the pegasus’ grip. “Forget it!” Rainbow shot back, her patience with the mint unicorn thinning. “Lyra, just stop! Rainbow might be right! You don’t know anything about those things! And they ARE dangerous! They threatened me, remember?” Bon Bon tried to reason with Lyra. “See? Dangerous?” Rainbow reiterated. “Only because you pissed them off by strangling me! Now leggo’!” Lyra argued, increasing her struggle. “Cut it out!” Rainbow ordered, seriously contemplating just dropping her like she wanted. “LET GO!” Lyra finally screamed, delivering a swift punch to Rainbow’s face, the hidden strength of the unicorn mare knocking her out and sending the three plummeting towards the ground. Lyra, only just remembering that they were all very high up in the air, began screaming with Bon Bon, her life flashing before her eyes for the second time that day as she, Bon Bon, and Rainbow fell to their doom. Before they could become pastel-colored smears on the ground, the Replicas that had been pursuing them on foot were suddenly beneath them, catching Lyra and Bon Bon in their arms. A loud and painful sounding thud besides them reminded them of Rainbow’s presence. “Um, why didn’t you catch her?” Lyra asked, eyeing the rainbow-maned cyan pegasus that laid in a crumpled heap on the ground, her expression dazed and her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. Stars were visibly circling over her head and the chirps of cuckoo birds could be heard. “Did you want us to catch her, ma’am? She did attempt to abduct you and your associate.” Alfa Leader asked as he gently set her down on the ground. “Well, yeah. She thought she was saving us from you, so…” Bon Bon began as the Tactical trooper that caught her set her on her hooves. “Is she alright?” Lyra asked no one in particular as she and Bon Bon went over to Rainbow’s prostrated form, noting the occasional twitch of a leg or wing. A pained groan answered her question as Rainbow came to, sitting up and putting a hoof to her addled head. “Wha-“ she began. Before she could get another sound out, she was immediately beset upon by the Replicas, who still regarded the cyan pegasus as a threat. She found herself suddenly flipped onto her belly, a heavy kneepad sitting on her neck, a number of guns pressed against her head, and a combat knife being held to her throat. She would have gulped out of nervous reflex but the feeling of cold, sharpened steel against her throat made her refrain. The Hinds had caught up with them, flying in close to support the soldiers on the ground. The REV6 powered armor stomped up towards them, a mechanical whir accompanying each step as it trained its gattling gun and repeating cannon on the pinned pegasus. The sight of the Replicas storming into the town and the gunships flying in overhead broke what little calm there was after their initial takeover of the park and sent all of Ponyville into a full panic. Ponies all over ran about while screaming their heads off, colliding into each other and tripping over their own hooves as they attempted to flee the scene. Lyra and Bon Bon could only stare at the chaos before them, their mouths agape. A choked plea from Rainbow regained their attention. “Guh, a little help here?” Looking over, Lyra gasped in horror at the Replicas holding Rainbow down. “Ohmygosh! Let her go!” she ordered them. Much to the ponies’ surprise, the soldiers complied, releasing her and backing away, though they still kept their weapons trained on her, not dismissing the cyan pegasus as a threat. Alfa Leader and the Tactical troopers flanked Lyra and Bon Bon, partially shielding them from the injured and irate pegasus. Getting to her hooves and catching her breath, Rainbow wound herself up for a shouting session despite a possibly broken wing. “Lyra!? Bon Bon!? What the HAY is going on!? Who the hay are these guys!? What the hay are those things!? Why the hay are they taking orders from you!? AND WHY THE HAY DID YOU HIT ME!?” she demanded, finishing with a near crack of her voice. “Umm… Well, about them… They’re, uh… friends of mine?” Lyra put forward, smiling innocently while dodging the question of why she punched her. Rainbow’s narrowed eyes and unamused frown conveyed her dissatisfaction with Lyra’s answer. Sighing, she offered another hollow explanation while trying to skirt admitting out loud that she special ordered her own private army. “Look, it’s complicated, and I’m still trying to figure things out myself, but they definitely aren’t dangerous! They won’t hurt anypony! So it’s fine!” Rainbow’s reaction to Lyra’s purported notion that the Replicas were harmless was thus… “AREN’T DANGEROUS!? WON’T HURT ANYPONY!? They threatened Bon Bon, dogpiled me, whatever they hay those things are, and put a knife to my neck! And you still haven’t said why you punched me!” she shouted, grimacing at the end of her rant, feeling her left wing throb in pain. “Well, I hit you because you wouldn’t put us down…” Lyra muttered, starting to feel defensive. “I was trying to save you from those things!” Rainbow asserted once more. “I didn’t need saving!” “Says you! They could still turn on you at any second! You don’t know anything about them!” Rainbow argued. “I know enough that they’ll listen to me, otherwise we wouldn’t be talking right now!” Lyra shot back, a discernable sneer in her voice. Bon Bon seemed taken aback by it. Rainbow snorted. “Oh, yeah, sure! You want me to be chill about these extremely dangerous aliens and their crazy flying machines and whatever else!? Oh, it’s okay! They’re friendly! The resident human nut said so!” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Lyra recoiled slightly at the jab. “No need to be like that…” “You’ve always been out of it, lyre player, but this is too much! Get your head out of your flank and smell the coffee!” Rainbow continued, the pain of her injuries driving her tirade. Lyra began to visibly frown. “Hey…” “These guys are trouble! Or are you too much of a loon to see that!?” The unicorn pursed her lips, fed up with Rainbow’s insults toward her, and decided to exert her authority as the Replicas’ supposed commander. “You know what? The hay with it, just knock her out.” Rainbow’s previous anger was thrown off by the unicorn’s suddenly hostile disposition to her. “Wait, wha-“ CRACK! Author's Note Three. Up next, our heroines go on a little road trip... Chapter 1: Home Shopping (revised, again)Chapter 1: Home Shopping Lyra sat on her front room’s sofa, speculating the possible contents of the booklet that sat upon her coffee table that had banged so many pony shins. Her daily morning ritual of checking the mail had finally turned up something other than bills, junk mail, and papercuts. The booklet had been sent to her by her uncle, Fancypants. She had been staring at it for a few minutes now, its glossy blue surface defiant and unyielding to the merciless bombardment of the intense gaze from her golden eyes, refusing to surrender the secrets held by its pages. After finally realizing that simply staring at it wouldn’t get her any closer to finding out what it was about, Lyra decided to opt for a more hooves-on approach. Taking hold of it with her magic, she levitated it in front of her and began subjecting the mysterious booklet to a much more intense investigation, actually opening and reading it! The title on the cover read “Dis and Qordial Limited: Home Shopping Catalogue - Spring Deals!” Raising an interested eyebrow, Lyra found herself becoming intrigued in what the catalogue had to offer. She was quite familiar with the company that purported it, having been made aware of it by her relatives in Canterlot. The Trottingham-based “special interests firm” was quite popular among the country’s nobility for being able to cater to even their most wild and twisted fantasies. From forbidden foods and the most deviant sexual experiences to extraplanetary timeshares and interdimensional holidays, there was nothing Dis and Qordial couldn’t provide for the right price. Of course, the company’s existence was a well guarded secret by Equestria’s elite families, lest word of their unusual tastes and hobbies get out to the much more narrow-minded working class ponyfolk. They just wouldn’t understand the incredible sensation of partaking in the most taboo of consumables, meat, beef steaks in particular, a widely popular favorite among the nobles. Beef, the actual MEAT of a cow, cooked rare and bloody, sizzling and seasoned with the finest herbs and spices… It could almost be tasted the terrified despair of Daisy Jo’s cousin right before she received a railroad spike through her forehead courtesy of a pneumatic hammer… The scrumptious suffering of another sapient… Lyra caught herself before she began drooling on the carpet. She turned her attention to her uncle’s letter that accompanied the catalogue and began reading… My dearest niece Lyra, How are you, my dear? It’s been a while since we last saw each other. We really must get together again and catch up. Fleur’s missed you! Anyway, the reason for this letter. I ran into your old magic school classmate Feather Duster the other day at the ol’ pub. She’s doing fine if you’re wondering. After a nice chat, she handed off to me a rather interesting find she came across while cleaning Princess Cadenza’s private chambers up at Canterlot Castle. Her Majesty really ought to be more careful of what she tosses out, ha ha! Back on track, it’s a home shopping catalogue from Dis and Qordial. You should be familiar with them (you and your sirloins, lass). It would appear the Princess has quite the… experimental side. Not surprising in hindsight, considering that she IS the “Princess of Love” and all. Captain Armor must be one happy stallion. Or perhaps not. Rambling again. I know you’re rather passionately involved in that fringe field of study, what was it called? “Anthropology?” Study of humans. There’s something on page seventeen I think you’ll find most interesting… Sincerely, Uncle Fancypants Lyra hummed contentedly as she finished Fancypants’ letter, fondly recalling her father’s brother. Despite what his name might suggest, she knew him to be quite the friendly and approachable unicorn, possibly the only non-snobby noble in all of Canterlot. That he was a major power player in the capital city didn’t seem to affect his demeanor towards others in the slightest. After a moment, she began snickering at what her uncle’s letter had said about Princess Cadence. “Uncle Fancypants is right. I should’ve figured Princess Cadence would be a freak.” she said to herself with a laugh. She now couldn’t help but imagine how the newly wedded Royal couple consummated their marriage on their honeymoon, probably involving a saddle, spurs, and a riding crop. Chuckling at the racy thoughts, Lyra stowed them away for another time, preferably when Bon Bon was around, the mischievous unicorn mare that she was. Taking hold of the catalogue once more, she began flipping through it, perusing the products on offer and quirking an eyebrow more than a few times at the circled items, presumably by Princess Cadence. “Hay, she IS a real freak…” After several pages of sexually enticing evening wear, lingerie, and exotic and highly illegal aphrodisiacs, she finally reached the page indicated by her uncle’s letter. It was dominated by a single advertisement, its loudly bolded text screaming out at her. The subject matter of it greatly aroused her interest, being very close to her heart… Your Very Own Superhuman! A limited-time offer by Dis and Qordial Limited. Imagine it! Your very own Superhuman at your beck and call! Stronger than a thousand earth ponies! Reflexes and dexterity to rival the Wonderbolts! Capable of feats you can’t even imagine! For only 500 bits, you can have a Superhuman to call your very own! Finally silence those neighsayers who dismiss humans as another old pony tale! Imagine their faces! Fill out the order form in the back of the catalogue and mail it to the provided address and receive your Superhuman(s) within 3-4 business weeks. Check or money order only. Lyra’s expression was agape, sheer amazement written all over her face. Her very own human? Not just a regular human, but a full-on SUPERHUMAN? She felt her excitement bubbling up at the prospect. Any doubt or skepticism she might have had about such a bold pitch withered before the reputation of Dis and Qordial, the firm renowned for being able to make any dream come true, no matter how fantastical it may be. Fancypants’ “companion,” Fleur, could attest to that. Who would have thought that the supermodel pony was quite the interdimensional game hunter? “She always said she had to get the oils and secretions for her ‘special baths’ from somewhere…” Lyra muttered aloud. Returning her thoughts to humans, she took the advertisement’s suggestion and began imagining the dumbstruck looks of everyone in Ponyville when she strolled down the street with her superhuman in tow. A devious and pleased smile took hold on her face as she pictured the slack-jawed expressions of all who derided her for her unwavering belief in the existence of humans and dismissed her as some obsessed loon. She would have to be sure to bring a camera… looking at the price again, Lyra found herself cringing slightly at it, finding it a bit steep, though the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that it was worth it if it meant she could finally prove humans to exist and vindicate herself. Her eyes glazed over as she began imagining her own wing in the Canterlot Royal University and Library, completely dedicated to humans and her study thereof. Coming to a decision, Lyra snatched a quill from her writing desk and began filling out the order form with furious speed, an occasional demented giggling fit interrupting the rhythm of her writing. Genevieve Aristide sat in her obscenely expensive Italian leather office swivel chair in her new office, holding in her hand a half-drunken martini in the manner of a truly pretentious corporate executive. Upon her polished mahogany desk was a high-value order forwarded to her by Dis and Qordial Limited, one of Armacham Technology Corporation’s many business partners, the salacious corporate whore that it was. The order called for an entire expeditionary Replica battalion outfitted with air and armor assets. Dis and Qordial acting as the middleman, the buyer was one “Lyra Heartstrings,” a reclusive billionaire hold up somewhere in Kazakhstan. Genevieve quirked a bemused eyebrow at the provided name of the buyer. ’What kind of name is “Lyra Heartstrings,” anyway? Sounds like a high-priced escort.’ she thought to herself. Shrugging, she continued flipping through the document, finding shockingly little in the way of specific details about the buyer. Aside from a name and a rather vague location, there was nothing else stated about Lyra Heartstrings. She shrugged once more, not particularly caring that she knew next to nothing about a potential buyer for their own private army. Now while another more responsible and globally conscious executive might wonder for more than a fleeting moment who exactly this buyer was and what they could possibly want with over a thousand mindless clone supersoldiers, Genevieve just couldn’t bring herself to care. They had already paid in full through Dis and Qordial and even purchased indefinite servicing and warranty for their battalion, and that’s all that mattered to her. The bony-faced and morally bankrupt Aristide was never one to turn away a paying customer, after all… She leaned back in her chair, taking a moment to reflect on the enormous amount of trouble she and the company went through to contain the fallout of the Origin and Perseus projects. While she didn’t know the precise details of how both incidents were ultimately resolved, the reports on them made mention of ice cream cones, potato crisps, Paxton Fettel’s apparent Oedipus complex, and the employment of a freelance sex worker to alleviate it. It was around there that she stopped reading, finding the suggested implications both unfortunate and repulsive. Shaking her head clear of the disturbing thoughts, Genevieve leaned forward and grabbed the phone on her desk before dialing the sales department, eager to get things started. On the outskirts of the massive smoldering blast mark that was the city of Fairport, a rundown airfield was bustling with activity, none of which was particularly legal. A fleet of transport planes were parked on the many taxiways of the airfield, their cargo bays being loaded with a multitude of militarized civilian vehicles and an immense volume of equipment, ordnance, and other materials. Myriads of genetically identical Replica soldiers were also boarding the planes, packing themselves tightly into their assigned seats. Collectively designated the 22nd Replica Battalion, the clone supersoldiers that comprised this unit were preparing to set out to rendezvous with their new pony commander. The details about their equine master had been disseminated to them in the final stages of their psychological conditioning. While in a hypnotic trance, anonymous voices whispered into their ears their life’s purpose, to obey all that their commander orders… and that their commander was a marshmallowey mint-coated unicorn named Lyra Heartstrings. Images of Lyra’s saccharine visage were subliminally broadcasted to their then highly suggestible minds. Her mint-colored coat and mane accented with white streaks, huge golden eyes and an amazingly human-like smile, a horn jutting out from her forehead, and most curiously a picture of a lyre printed onto her flank. Her cartoonish appearance was permanently burned into their memories along with the utterly ridiculous notion that they were to be unswervingly loyal and completely obedient to her. While normal human soldiers might be a little skeptical about taking orders from an oversized and incredibly adorable and huggable sapient plush toy, the Replicas bore no such complaints, accepting completely the equine nature of their soon-to-be pony overlord. Armacham Technology’s Replica line of genetically engineered psychic supersoldiers weren’t the type to question their commander or the orders they issued even in the slightest. Be they psychotic, cannibalistic madmen, ghosts of emotionally dead little girls doing a poor impression of Japanese onryos, or indeed cartoon unicorns from another universe entirely, the Replicas would follow them to hell and back and perform Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” while there if so ordered. The end result of such an ethically obscene process was an entire army of mindless drones, ready to take or rescue hostages, massacre entire villages or deliver aid and protection to them, to be the most monstrous of killers or the most saintly of saviors, all on their commander’s say-so. A short distance away from the rest of the battalion, a unique group of Replicas were boarding a trio of C-17 Globemaster cargo planes with their own specialized vehicles and hardware. Simply designated as “Replica Command,” the Replicas that made up this internal unit were the dedicated command team of the 22nd Replica Battalion, specially trained in all manner of strategies and tactics and tasked with assisting their commander in matters of command and troop coordination and ensure a smooth operation. Inside a communications center in one of the planes was the battalion’s assembled subcommanders, currently coordinating the loading of the battalion and its hardware onto the planes, primarily by shouting at them over the radio to hurry up. At long last, it seemed they all were finally ready to go. The subcommanders began radioing the individual sections they were each responsible for, ensuring all was set and accounted for before setting themselves and the rest of the battalion off on their journey. “Alfa Company, check in!” “Bravo Company, confirm status.” “Charlie Company, good to go?” “Delta Company, all set?” “Echo Company, report.” “Foxtrot Company, ready?” “Golf Company, ready to fly?” One by one, the immediate captains of each company reported back to them, declaring their state of readiness. “Alfa Leader, ready to go!” “Sir, ready to depart.” “Jacked up and good to go, sir!” “Affirmative, Lead. All set.” “Reporting. Ready.” “Now and always.” “Roger that.” Satisfied, the subcommanders issued the order for all planes to take off. The 22nd Replica Battalion was en route. Author's Note You may notice a few changes...
Chapter 2: Settling In and Meeting the BossChapter 2: Settling In and Meeting the Boss After a long and uneventful flight around the world, the 22nd Replica Battalion found themselves at their new headquarters, the Baikonur Cosmodrome Space Center in the arid and mountainous region of southern Kazakhstan. As the buyer was supposedly in the country, Armacham decided to acquire the antiquated space launch facility and integrate it with the battalion as part of a package deal, an unprecedented act of astoundingly good customer care. The fleet of transport planes that delivered the battalion to Kazakhstan had set down on a series of sizable airstrips not far off from the Cosmodrome. They began offloading their cargo, Replica soldiers and their vehicles filing out of the planes and onto the dirt runways before regrouping into their respective companies, platoons, and squads. As the rest of the battalion sorted themselves out in the sweltering desert heat, Replica Command, from within their private air-conditioned combination planes and mobile command centers, busied themselves with arranging a probe of their new base of operations. A convoy of light and heavy troop transports assembled and began an approach towards the long-abandoned base. They soon reached its outer perimeter, their high-power engines and titanium bullbars easily breaking through the rusty chainlink fences that purported to protect the restricted stretches of desert that was the Baikonur Cosmodrome. The convoy came to a complete stop as they reached the surface facilities of the base, kicking up clouds of dust as the vehicles simultaneously pulled their brakes. Their passengers disembarked and formed into teams before fanning out into the clusters of concrete and steel buildings, moving meticulously and with surgical precision as they swept the area for threats, finding them mostly in the form of roaches and other assorted vermin. One particular Replica hanged back at the parked vehicles, surveying his surroundings. Clad in green and black camouflage fatigues and body armor and wearing an advanced gas mask and respirator, he would have been largely indistinguishable from the other Replicas if not for the yellow “Ch1” stitched into the left breast and back of his armored vest. He put two gloved fingers to his left ear, activating a radio headset concealed beneath his headgear. “Command, this is Charlie Leader. We’ve reached the base’s surface facilities. We’re securing the area. Over.” he reported. There was a crackle of static before a response came. ”Copy that. Teams are to continue sweep and secure of all surface buildings only, then hold for further orders. Restriction of base’s sublevels upholding. Your team is to locate the central command bunker. Report back when you find it. Command out.” “Will do. Charlie Leader out.” The brief exchange over, Charlie Leader waved over a squad of similarly gas mask-equipped Replicas. Running over to him, they stood ready for whatever he was about to task them with. “We’re going to reconnoiter the area for the base’s central command bunker. According to base schematics, its primary entrance is at the northeastern edge from here.” he briefed them. “Yes sir!” his squad affirmed simultaneously in the same exact voice as each other. Charlie Leader nodded. “Good. Let’s move out!” At his word, they began trekking through the Cosmodrome’s surface facilities towards their objective, weaving between empty warehouses, weathered bunkers, and rusting scaffolding. After a few minutes of walking, they finally reached the command bunker’s main entrance. Charlie Leader stood before the partially open blast doors of the entrance, his automatic shotgun slung on his side and his hands behind his back as he took in the door’s rusted and weathered appearance with a critical eye. His squad stood behind him, their posture guarded and ready with weapons in hand. “I want this thing open, now.” Charlie Leader suddenly announced. His squad jumped at his words, splitting into two even groups, each taking hold of a door. “On three!” instructed a corporal among them. Receiving acknowledgements from each squad member, he began counting down. “One!” “Two!” “THREE!” As one, they began pulling open the blast doors, their combined superhuman strength easily overcoming years of rust buildup. The doors’ gears groaned in protest as they were forced into motion for the first time in a very long while. After some struggle, the blast doors were finally forced open… revealing another set of blast doors, this time fully sealed. The squad stared helplessly at the newly uncovered obstacle for a moment before turning their gaze to Charlie Leader, wordlessly pleading him for direction. The subcommander hadn’t moved an inch, his figure stiff and rigid. Finally, after a lengthy and uncomfortable silence, a single word escaped from the nozzle of his gasmask. “Shiiit…” Night had fallen upon the Cosmodrome a few hours later, the night sky sparkling high above the base’s defunct space rockets and their launch platforms. Despite the late hour, the entirety of the 22nd Replica Battalion was wide awake and active, elements of it moving to and fro around the base. Any Replica not on patrol or guard duty busied themselves with cleaning their new home, scrubbing away dust, rust, and all manner of filth and making sure everything was spic and span. The battalion’s combat support company in the meanwhile worked to restore the base’s utilities and install new equipment to supplement what couldn’t be repaired. Replica Command had set up an impromptu command post just outside the central command bunker, having deemed the interior of it unsuitable for operations, at least until the battalion’s janitorial staff could get around to dealing with it. A number of tents and canopies had been erected to temporarily house their command and control systems, the trunk space of a few SUVs and humvees also being utilized as desk space. Beneath one such canopy were the battalion’s subcommanders, who were currently milling over a table, its surface cluttered with various subdocuments from their mission briefing and a large map depicting an unworldly location. The map was quite unlike the kinds they were trained with, being more appropriate as a decorative office piece that a practical overlay of a locale. It was a large piece of very antiquated parchment, its paper aged a dull yellow hue. On it was a hand-drawn, artistically-rendered map of a country called “Equestria,” the homeland and true location of Lyra Heartstrings. As with their and the rest of the battalion’s reaction that their new commander was a mint unicorn with a picture of a lyre on her butt, the subcommanders didn’t bat an eye at the absurd notion of an entire land populated with such sapient pony beings and presumably other mythological creatures, only concerning themselves with how they were going to get there. Their briefing addressed that particular concern, speaking of an old subterranean rail system built within a large cave system far below the Cosmodrome, made accessible by way of a large freight elevator conveniently located on base. It was from this apparently cross-dimensional hole-in-the-ground that the 22nd Replica Battalion would find their way into Equestria and ultimately to their master. Once more, the subcommanders didn’t at all question the physics-defying premise of a cave with the properties of an Einstein-Rosen bridge deep within the Earth’s crust leading to an entirely new world filled with talking ponies, taking all of it as true. Their briefing printed on official Armacham stationary said so. They continued to examine the map of Equestria, familiarizing themselves with its terrain and locales until they knew them like the back of their hands. Something that jumped out at them about their future theater of operation were the names of many of the cities and towns labeled on the map, being plays on real world locales and modified to pertain to horses. Manehattan, Trottingham, Canterlot, Van Hoover, though some weren’t as subtle, such as “Ponyville,” a small town near the geographic center of the country. Not a chortle or snicker was heard. Ponyville was also notable for the red circle drawn around it and an arrow and the words “Primary Directive’s Location” indicating it. Southeast of Ponyville, past a large forested region labeled the “Everfree Forest,” another more reasonably named town was also circled, Dodge Junction, and was indicated as their “Point of Emergence.” The subcommanders quickly interpreted the extraneous markings as their commander’s exact location in Equestria and the battalion’s point of entry in this new world respectively. They began closely examining the town of Dodge Junction and its surrounding terrain, it very likely being the first piece of pony civilization they would encounter. Apparently situated in a desert, the town seemed like a relatively minor settlement, little more than a glorified stagecoach way station. They likely would have paid little mind to it if not for its close proximity to their point of entry into Equestria. Something about Dodge Junction that did catch their attention was the rail line that ran through it and straight on to Ponyville, a highly attractive feature of the otherwise unimpressive frontier settlement, making a mental note to commandeer it as soon as it was practical. The subcommanders and the rest of the command staff continued to formulate designs upon Equestria, drawing up plans for any contingency that may arise in the country. From Appleloosa to Manehattan, no inch of terrain was discounted in their considerations. Replica Command was thorough like that. CRASH! Their scheming was interrupted by a loud crash just outside the canopy. They all looked over to see an overturned cart, boxes of ammunition split everywhere and a pair of heavies standing off to the side and looking guilty. They all turned their gaze towards one of their fellows, a Replica decked in a blue and white uniform and body armor and wearing a fully-enclosed ballistics helmet, a small red light blinking just beneath its polarized visor. The code “T114” was printed on his armored vest. “It’s your turn, Echo Leader.” one of them dully said. A barely perceptible sigh escaped from his helmet as Echo Leader nodded and trudged off towards the cart and heavies, winding himself up for a screaming session. It was a couple days later when the 22nd Replica Battalion was finally settled in their new base of operations, the previously dilapidated Soviet-era facilities now restored to an acceptable level. The clone soldiers made themselves comfortable in the Cosmodrome’s rather spartan personnel facilities while their vehicles and equipment were securely tucked away in the various hangars, warehouses, and storage bunkers that littered the base. A distance away, on the airstrips that serviced the base, a small number of the transport planes that brought the battalion to Kazakhstan sat idle, having been left behind for their use should the need arise. Replica Command had dispatched one of their own to tour the Cosmodrome and perform a full inventory of all the battalion’s assets. Their delegate for the tedious and time-consuming task was Bravo Leader, the subcommander charged with the battalion’s covert and stealth operations. His inspection had unearthed a few pleasant surprises in the outlaying storage areas that would nicely complement what they had brought with them. He discovered in one such storage area a number of Russian-manufactured T-55 main battle tanks, BMP infantry fighting vehicles, and various other armored fighting vehicles. While most of them were beyond repair from years of neglect, a few still seemed serviceable. Pleased to have found something to busy the support company with, he moved on. In another storage area he found a significant volume of construction material and excavation equipment in pristine condition, having been left untouched in their original packaging and shrink wrap for the longest time. They would prove invaluable when they eventually established themselves in Equestria. The end of his base-wide inspection tour found Bravo Leader standing before a large elevator shaft, built in a massive chamber beneath a high-security storage bunker. It was this freight elevator according to the mission briefing that would deliver the battalion into the cave system below the Cosmodrome and ultimately into Equestria. The shaft was somewhat lit surprisingly enough, dim lighting fixtures jutting from its dirtied concrete walls at regular intervals for most of its length. The elevator itself was a large, open metal platform with black and yellow hazard stripes bordering its edges. It could easily carry multiple heavy vehicles, being meant to ferry large volumes of materials at once. Bravo Leader stood at the elevator platform’s edge, a platoon of infantry and crates of lighting equipment behind him. He looked at an elevated booth to the side of the elevator, specifically at the Replica soldier inside manning the elevator’s controls. The subcommander gestured at him, giving the order to start up the elevator’s mechanisms and send them down. Complying, the addressed Replica dutifully pulled a lever. A metallic clanking of gears suddenly resounded in the chamber and echoed down throughout the shaft below. There was a pause before the platform suddenly jerked to life, sending more than a few of its passengers stumbling. With a final groan, the elevator began a steady descent. It would be nearly two hours before it reached the bottom. The Replicas were met with pitch-black darkness upon reaching the bottom of the shaft, only their headlamps and combat lights mounted on their weapons saving them from total blindness. Bravo Leader, however, didn’t share in his subordinates’ visibility problems, the red glow of his night vision goggles piercing into the darkness and showing him all that the darkness concealed. He didn’t find it much to look at. “Set up those flood lamps. I want this place lit up nice and good.” he ordered the platoon. At once, they hastily set up and activated said flood lamps and soon their environment was at least somewhat illuminated, revealing it in all its ruined glory. The soldiers beheld an absolutely cavernous tunnel, its rock surface bearing scorch marks as testament to the explosives used to carve it out. Degraded heavy-duty power and communication cables ran along its walls, broken at various points and splitting off into the other smaller tunnels that comprised the cave system. A pair of train tracks extended along the floor parallel to each other and into the darkness in either direction, far beyond the power of the Replicas’ lighting equipment. “First and second squads, hold here at the elevator. Third squadron, check out that direction and mark with LEDs at fifteen foot intervals. Fourth squadron, on me. We’re doing the same in the other direction.” Bravo Leader directed the platoon. Receiving affirmative replies from all, he set down the main tunnel with his squad in one direction, the other doing the same in the opposite direction. He and his squad moved carefully through the main tunnel, hugging its walls and place LED lamps at regular intervals to mark their path and allow them to find their way back. The squad had bumped into their commanding officer more than a few times, his incredibly quiet footsteps and grey light-absorbing photochemical fatigues and body armor making him nearly invisible in the darkness that permeated the tunnel. They eventually reached what appeared to be a service depot for the rail system, complete with a turntable station and enclosed train car lot. Tucked away between some servicing platforms was a pair of old diesel engines, their machinery exposed and yellow paintjobs chipping. Beyond them was the enclosed lot, a large warehouse-like structure built within a massive chamber, a multitude of boxcars and flatcars stored within it. Bravo Leader proceeded with his squad onto an elevated platform and surveyed the depot in its entirety from the heightened vantage point, noting the rusting machinery and piping and decayed bits of carpentry and other organic debris that cluttered the area. The various pieces of machinery were in particularly bad shape, their gears and paneling rusted into dysfunction or missing completely and their wiring exposed from their conduits and strewn about. The depot overall was afflicted with all manner of messiness that would certainly keep whatever poor unit of the battalion that was delegated the task of cleaning it up busy for quite some time. Wondering if the depot and any of its contents were still salvageable and not really wanting to have to deal with it himself, Bravo Leader directed his squad back towards the elevator, intending to send for an inspection crew from the support company and pass the mess onto them. The next day found a small convoy of armored SUVs, humvees, and armored trucks refitted and repurposed as personnel carriers traveling through the tunnels below the Cosmodrome. Trailing them were two M1075 heavy-load cargo transport vehicles, their huge flatbeds carrying two Hind D helicopter gunships. Not far behind the convoy was the entirety of the battalion’s combat support company, working feverishly to restore the rail lines back to working order. Deciding they had delayed long enough, Replica Command organized a taskforce to traverse the tunnels and breach the dimensions into Equestria. Two platoons strong, the force was tasked with reconnoitering the battalion’s entry point in the pony-populated land and establishing an initial outpost there. From there, they would fly out to Ponyville and finally make contact with the commander and start receiving their orders. The convoy moved at a snail’s pace, the darkness of the main tunnel severely hampering their visibility and thus their speed. Their only source of illumination their own headlights and mounted floodlights, the vehicles inched carefully along the train tracks, paying great mind to each other’s position so as to not rear-end one another. They had been moving through the tunnel for almost three hours, their necessarily slow speed greatly contributing to their lengthy travel time. In the passenger seat of a humvee near the rear of the convoy sat Alfa Leader, the head of the battalion’s force reconnaissance unit. Having been bestowed the honor of leading the contact team into Equestria and being the first member of Replica Command to meet the commander, he was absolutely determined to not have any cock-ups during this operation. In his lap was a scanned image of the map of Equestria, the color of the original noticeably absent in the grayscale reproduction. Picking it up, he mentally plotted a course that would take the contact team past Dodge Junction and over the Everfree Forest and straight onto Ponyville. He carefully looked over the terrain his decided path would take them over, making note of any landmarks that would aid in their navigation. His musings over the map was interrupted by a crackle of static from the humvee’s radio. ”Sir, lead vehicle. We’re seeing what looks like daylight up ahead, about twelve meters out. I believe we’re about to hit the surface. Over.” Alfa Leader nodded before grabbing the radio piece to respond. “Roger. All convoy elements, full stop. Alright, here’s how we’re going to do this. One vehicle will move through the light at a time and give an all-clear over the radio before the next one can proceed. Keep your speed slow and steady. Acknowledged?” Receiving affirmative replies from every vehicle, he gave the lead vehicle the distinct honor of going first. Up at the front of the convoy, a tan humvee slowly started towards the literal light at the end of the tunnel, its all-terrain wheels grounding against the tunnel’s dirt floor. It soon disappeared behind the light, its blinding white glare completely engulfing it. Moments pass without any response from it, the only sounds in the tunnel the rumble of the vehicles’ engines. Just as Alfa Leader began fearing the worst, the radio emitted a beeping tone. ”Sir! We’ve emerged from the tunnel. We’re alright. We appear to be at the foot of a mountain. Terrain is suitable for light and heavy vehicles. We’re moving clear of the tunnel’s entrance, you can start sending the rest of the convoy through. Over.” Holding back a relieved sigh, Alfa Leader began sending the convoy through the tunnel’s end one vehicle at a time. The tunnel had inexplicably ejected the convoy out onto the surface despite originally starting out deep underground and having never gone on an upward incline even once. The contact team found themselves at the foot of a mountain, just as the lead vehicle had reported. Before them was a vast desert, its expansive terrain occasionally marked by a mesa or mountain. A small town that was presumably Dodge Junction was not far off from their location, the only locale of civilization they could see for miles around. The vehicles fanned out and created something of a perimeter around the tunnel’s entrance. Their passengers dismounted from them and under the direction of the platoon leaders began taking up sentry positions while others were ordered to sort themselves into patrols before moving out to sweep the surrounding area. Alfa Leader’s humvee drove out from the tunnel and parked nearby its entrance, the shadow of the mountain sheltering the vehicle and its passengers from the blazing midday sun. Stepping out of his vehicle, he looked around before waving over the platoon leaders, who had just finished sorting out the first watch. “Start setting up the outpost. I want it up and running by the time I get back. And send someone back through the tunnel to inform Command that we’ve reached Equestria and are proceeding with the mission as planned.” he instructed them. “Yes sir!” they both replied at the same time before running off to delegate the tasks to some other lower-ranking Replicas. Replicas not posted as lookouts or on patrol relegated themselves to manual labor, unloading containers of equipment and materials from their vehicles and setting up a number of tents and camouflage canopies that would comprise the battalion’s initial outpost in Equestria. The M1075s finally emerged from the tunnel and drove into the center of the perimeter, their speed slow and steady as to not upset their cargo. Slowing to a stop, they began the arduous process of offloading the massive gunships from their flatbeds. The trucks’ mechanized loaders whirred to life, the flatbeds upon which the helicopters currently sat strapped to beginning to slowly slide out of place. Hydraulic stabilizers unfolded and extended from beneath them to hold up the weights of the Hinds. After a slight pause, the flatbeds began descending, their mechanisms whirring in slight strain. Soon after, the Hinds were finally offloaded, their extended landing gear resting on the desert floor. Their pilots circled them, closely inspecting every square inch of their fuselage and propellers to ensure not a single bolt was out of place. They soon declared both aircraft airworthy and took their places in the cockpits. Two eight-man teams boarded the Hinds along with one REV6 powered armor unit. Alfa Leader waved over a small team of Tactical troopers, their blue and white uniforms contrasting greatly with the digital forest camouflage fatigues and body armor of himself and the rest of his unit. Boarding the helicopter, he signaled the pilots to take off. The helicopters’ propellers began making motion, their rotations becoming faster and faster until the Hinds were airborne and en route. Cherry Jubilee stood out on the back porch of her ranch home, taking in the fresh morning air. She looked out at the cherry trees of her orchard, smiling as a light wind blew some of the trees’ pink leaves off and caused them to dance about in the breeze. It was fast approaching noon and she had left her office to call the field workers to lunch. Just as she was about to holler out at them, a sudden and powerful gust of wind nearly blew her off her hooves. Her workers began panicking at something in the sky, taking cover beneath carts and behind the cherry trees. Looking up, the orchard boss caught sight of two very big and very mean looking aircraft. Their overall shape was vaguely reptilian, reminiscent of a crocodile’s head. Their hulls were of a grey and black coloration and camouflage patterning, making for a rather bewildering and menacing sight. The method of their flight was most unusual, relying on massive propellers for lift and control, a loud and rapid chopping emitting from their rotations. As quickly as they appeared, the Hinds had already zoomed past the orchard in the direction of the Everfree Forest far beyond Dodge Junction. Cherry Jubilee could only gawk at the retreating helicopter gunships as they flew off into the distance, leaving behind frightened and confused ponies in their wake. “What in blazes…” The Hinds’ flight had seen them and their passengers over desert and curiously a cherry orchard before the thick forest they presumed was the Everfree that now stretched far and wide beneath them. Alfa Leader looked out at the forested expanse, unable to see the forest floor through the thick canopy of trees. As the forest flowed past his vision, a break in the monotonous greenery below caught his attention. The ruins of a large stone structure, perhaps a castle or fortress of some kind, sat in a large clearing, overgrowth from the forest having overtaken much of it. He made a mental note of it as a potential hardpoint should the battalion ever find itself operating in the forest. The helicopters continued above the forest for the next hour, the monotone of endless trees and assorted greenery unceasing. At long last, the forest began to rescind and give way to civilization, a small town that was presumably Ponyville, given its close proximity to the Everfree Forest as depicted on the map. As they drew closer to the town, Alfa Leader and the rest of the team began feeling a strange psychic compulsion, an inexplicable draw towards what looked like a park. Overwhelmed by the unknown feeling, he directed the pilots to adjust the Hinds’ flight path towards the park, intending to investigate it thoroughly. Said compulsion didn’t include a desire to be discreet about it. Lyra stared up at the blue sky above, spying the occasional cloud that was left unattended by the town’s weather team. She was currently laying prostrated upon her back on a park bench, her forelegs folded behind her head and her hind legs crossed. Waiting for her superhuman to arrive was becoming a tedious affair, over four weeks having passed already. With no obligations to attend to that day, she decided to whittle the remaining hours of the day away with a session of cloud watching in the park. Already she had spotted a number of clouds that didn’t resemble anything other than a cloud and her excitement was only rising. “Ugh! Sooo boooooored…” Lyra groaned, beginning to flick her horn in a half-hearted attempt to alleviate her boredom that laid upon her head like a big head-mounted pancake. Her idle horn-flicking was interrupted by the sound of propellers loudly chopping through the air, the noise coming from the direction of the Everfree Forest. Sitting up, she looked over the bench and was met with a bewildering and utterly terrifying sight. Two large alien aircraft were approaching from over the forest with great speed. They quickly overtook the park, their rapid appearance, imposing size, and unknown but likely hostile intentions being more than reason enough for the few park goers at the time to flee in abject terror, screaming at the top of their lungs. Lyra, however, didn’t join them, instead remaining rooted in her seat on the bench, wide-eyed at the flying machines hovering above. Their sides suddenly folded up before coils of rope unfurled from them, their length reaching the ground. The strangest looking humanoid beings emerged from the openings and began sliding down the ropes one by one, their numbers on the ground eventually reaching nearly two dozen. The beings were clad in what appeared to be camouflage and armor, denoting a militaristic nature on their part. They wore futuristic looking helmets with polarized visors over a full-face mask, their faces completely hidden by them. They began fanning out into the park, assuming defensive positions and firing a few warning shots into the air with their weapons to encourage the few remaining ponies to overcome their sudden weakness of knees and heart conditions and clear out of the park. A group of them turned their attention to Lyra, who had yet to move from her spot on the bench, and began walking towards her. Their approach nearly caused the unicorn’s heart to seize up in sheer terror, her mind racing with myriads of theories as to their possible intentions towards her, none of them friendly or pleasant. As they drew closer, she noticed a few of them were decked in solid blue and white uniforms and armor as opposed to the camouflage patterning of the others, their sharp appearance giving an air of authority and command. They encircled her completely, leaving no room for escape. Time seemed to slow for the mint unicorn as the alien beings stood in an enclosed circle around her. Her life began flashing before her eyes, every milestone and notable moment of her life being replayed in her mind in vivid detail… Her early childhood in Canterlot… Moving to Ponyville… Pinkie Pie nearly giving her a heart attack at her welcoming party… Meeting Bon Bon at her welcoming party… An encounter of an explicit nature with Bon Bon the night of her welcoming party… Lyra’s flashback was interrupted mid-blush when one of the aliens in forest camouflage walked up to her, undoubtedly to finish her off. She dropped to her stomach and covered her head with her forelegs, waiting for the killing blow. Moments passed, her expectations of doom going unfulfilled. Curiosity overtaking her fear, she peaked out from her forelegs to find the alien being holding out a booklet of some sort towards her. She stared dumbly at it and the one presenting it to her, utterly confused at the unexpected and markedly non-hostile action. She tentatively reached out and took the booklet into her hooves. They all suddenly stood at attention, their posture straight and rigid. “Ma’am, Alfa Leader, battalion subcommander and head of Alfa Company, reporting for duty.” the one who gave her the booklet suddenly spoke, his voice filtered by an electronic voice changer. Lyra could only say one thing in response. “Huh?” Author's Note And the stage is (re)set...
Chapter 3: Run That By Me Again?Chapter 3: Run That By Me Again? “Huh?” Lyra gawked at Alfa Leader and his subordinates, who returned her dumbfounded expression with the upmost patience. The mint unicorn was at a complete loss of the situation before her. She mentally replayed the events that had just occurred, hoping a recap of things would help her make sense of just what was going on… A group of heavily armed and armored aliens had just stormed and taken over the park, deploying from the most unusual rotary aircraft that now buzzed overhead like extremely angry and heavily armed giant metal wasps. Scaring off the few picnics and strolling lovers that were there at the time, they proceeded to encircle her in a manner that suggested they were about to send her to the great Faust in the sky, and just when her life began flashing before her eyes, they presented her with a booklet and stood at attention, apparently regarding her as a supreme authority of some sort. The synapses in Lyra’s brain fired furiously as they attempted to make sense of the bizarre and terrifying situation before her. Alas, the only return from her brain was a resounding “huh?” “Umm… could you maybe run that by me again?” she asked cautiously, a nervous smile adorning her face. “You are our commander, and we are awaiting your orders.” Alfa Leader simply stated. A Tactical trooper indicated the booklet Alfa Leader presented her with. “Perhaps the documentation can better elaborate things for you, ma’am.” Lyra gaped at them for a moment before heeding the trooper’s suggestion. She looked over the glossy, granite-colored cover of the booklet, noting the title printed on it, “Armacham Technology Corporation: Variant VI Replica Supersoldiers - Customer’s Guide.” Beneath the title was a curious symbol that was presumably this corporation’s logo, a trio of squares configured into a triangular formation. Her eyes darting between the booklet and the Replicas, she slowly opened it up to its first page and began reading… Thank you for purchasing Armacham Technology Corporation’s Premier Variant VI Replica Supersoldiers. You now have at your disposal the ultimate warriors, capable of action far beyond that of even the best trained special forces units. Capable, fearless, and unswervingly loyal, your new Replica Battalion is your one-stop solution for any military situation. Whether it be providing security, policing, hostage rescue, search and rescue, counterterrorism, counterinsurgency, and everything in between, there’s no mission they can’t handle. Lyra’s head suddenly snapped up, her left eye twitching slightly as she processed the implications of the word “battalion.” While not a military buff by any measure, she did have a vague understanding of how big such a formation was. “Uh, it s-says here there’s a b-battalion of you guys. That’s like, a-a t-thousand s-soldiers, right?” she asked with a noticeable stutter, afraid of the answer she might receive. “The battalion numbers fifteen hundred individual soldiers. Do you wish to bring in more?” Alfa Leader asked. “F-fift-teen h-hundr-red!?” Lyra stammered out, her horn sparking with a bit of magic to indicate her brain shorting out in the most spectacular fashion. There was only one way she could react to the news that there were over a thousand heavily armed alien supersoldiers in Equestria that were completely sworn to her. She fainted. Lyra’s eyes slowly cracked open, the sunlight dancing on her eyelids gently coaxing the sleep form them. She brought a hoof to her forehead, rubbing away her disorientation. Regaining all her senses, she found herself laying on a foldable cot beneath the still propellers of the now landed Hind, the other currently buzzing an apple orchard on the edge of town and getting shouted at by an elderly earth pony mare for interrupting her nap. The Tactical troopers stood over her, apparently having kept guard over her comatose form. The other Replicas were busy patrolling the park and keeping watch, maintaining their cordon of the area. The REV6 powered armor unit was also now on scene, its imposing size and heavy armaments not sending a friendly message to any who dared approach the park. “Ugh… wha’ happaned?” Lyra groaned as she slowly sat up, blinking away the last of her dizziness. “You fainted, ma’am. The medic examined you and reported no cause for concern.” Alfa Leader informed her. “Oh… how long was I out?” Lyra asked as she looked herself over while her cheeks adopted a slight red tinge, rather discomforted at the thought of having an alien poke and prod her while she was unconscious. “Ten minutes.” “Oh, okay.” She looked out at the park, idly watching as the Replicas continued to ensure the complete abandonment of the park with their militant posture and readied weapons. She began feeling around for the booklet Alfa Leader had given her earlier, subconsciously desiring it as an emotional crutch for the incredible situation that had just slapped her about the face. Not finding it, she inquired the subcommander about it. “Hey, where’s that little book? That ‘customer’s guide’ thingy?” A gloved hand suddenly held out the item in question towards her, eliciting a surprised squeak from the unicorn. Reaching out to take it, Lyra’s eyes were drawn to the Replica’s appendage, noting the five nimble digits she had grown to be so fascinated and intrigued with. ’Fingers… Hands…’ No longer dazed and disorientated, she looked carefully at Alfa Leader and his subordinates, taking in their appearance with growing familiarity and excitement. Bipedal, upright stance and posture without need of a tail, presumably flat-faced if the general shape of their headgear was any indication, technology inconceivable to ponykind, fingers and hands… ’They’re…’ “Umm… can I ask you guys something?” she asked the Replica as she accepted the booklet, wanting to confirm her suspicions. The Replica nodded. “Ready.” Taking a breath, Lyra asked the question who’s answer would finally vindicate her. “Are you… humans?” “We are Replicas, clones derivative of human DNA. So, in essence, yes.” he answered in a clinical tone. The mint unicorn felt a swirl of emotions at the soldier’s dry response, astonishment that there were actual, live humans before her, growing trepidation of having over a thousand of them at her command, and the slightest smug satisfaction at having been right all along. Feeling overwhelmed by it all, Lyra decided to find someone to drag into her panic and validate what was happening and assure her that she wasn’t descending into madness and was merely hallucinating these “Replicas” in a fit of psychosis. “Uh, I need to go get somepony real quick! Just, stay here, okay?” she asked as she climbed out of the cot, Alfa Leader and a Tactical trooper helping her to her hooves. “Shall a team accompany you, ma’am?” Alfa Leader asked her. “NO! No, that’s alright. I’ll be fine, really! Just stay here, please?” she pleaded him. “We shall remain here, then.” Lyra sighed in slight relief, happy that the Replicas were as obedient as the customer’s guide claimed them to be. “Okay! I’ll be right back!” Receiving an assurance that they would still be there, Lyra galloped towards town at full speed, intending to collect a certain beige earth pony with a rather big sweet tooth. Bon Bon nervously looked out the window of her sweets shop, her eyes scanning the outside for any signs of trouble. A panic at the park had spread to the rest of Ponyville, vacating the streets of nearly all activity. Her shop was not spared, the few customers she had at the time getting swept up in the panic and confusion of their fellow ponies and bolted out the door, nearly breaking its bell in the process. The few loud cracks and strange buzzing sound off in the distance didn’t at all assure her of matters… “BON BOOOOOON!” came a shrill voice, interrupting her morbid musings. Lyra, her roommate and longtime best friend, burst through the door of her shop and slammed it behind her before flipping the closed sign to “open,” apparently having missed that it had already been adjusted. “Whoa! Lyra, what’s going on? Do you know what’s got the whole town scared?” Bon Bon asked her friend, noting her winded state. Lyra sputtered and made frantic, indiscernible motions with her forelegs before anything intelligible came out. “Park! Replicas! Special order! Humans! Supersoldiers!” she rattled off, unable to string the words together into a coherent sentence. Bon Bon whistled sharply and waved at Lyra, shushing the hysterical unicorn mare. “Hey! HEY! What the hay are you talking about Lyra!? What’s going on in the park? Is that why everypony’s hiding? And… did you say ‘human super-replica soldiers?’ What?” she asked, thinking her friend had finally lost her mind. “Uggh! I’ll just show you!” Lyra growled out in a frustrated manner as she grabbed Bon Bon’s hoof and began dragging her out the door. “W-wait! It isn’t safe outside! We should stay indoors! At least let me lock up first!” Bon Bon pleaded while fumbling with her keys. “No time!” “Here.” Lyra said, indicating the Replica-occupied park. She had led Bon Bon through the empty streets of Ponyville, curious eyes peaking at them from behind closed shutters and drawn blinds, wondering just what the lyre player and candy maker were up to amidst the chaos that struck the town earlier. Bon Bon’s previously worried demeanor had deteriorated into near-catatonic fear as Lyra dragged her past the Replicas patrolling at the park’s edge, who curiously stood aside and allowed them through. The beige earth pony’s eyes darted all around the park under lockdown, from the massive Hind that was at rest by the fountain like a sleeping dragon, the several Replica soldiers that returned her gaze from behind their helmet’s polarized visors, and the REV6 that she knew was tracking her every movement, electronic all-vision eyes boring into her from beneath the egg-shaped armored carapace. “W-wha-what…” she quietly stammered out, her legs turning to jelly and beginning to violently quake as every neuron in her brain screamed at her to grab Lyra and run for the hills. As if sensing her intentions, a pair of Replicas came up behind her, the sound of their bootfalls announcing their presence and disabusing her of trying to make a break for it. “Remember that ‘special order’ I told you about?” Lyra began, taking a casual tone to try and keep her friend calm. It didn’t. “What the HAY did you do!?” Bon Bon screeched as she grabbed Lyra’s throat and began violently shaking her to and fro, her fear and terror of the Replicas turning into confused rage towards Lyra. “Gak!” At once, the barrels of half a dozen rifles were shoved into Bon Bon’s face, the soldiers none too happy with her throttling their unicorn master. “Ehehehe… sorry…” she sheepishly apologized with a nervous grin, releasing her now addle-headed friend. Gasping for air, Lyra waved them off. “It’s okay, guys. She’s a friend.” she assured them. Complying, they lowered their weapons and resumed their guard, though a few kept their eyes on Bon Bon, the fingers of their supporting hands drumming against their guns. Now infinitely more fearful of the supersoldiers that for some strange reason seemed completely beholden to her best friend, she began interrogating Lyra about them, a part of her not really wanting to know. “What in Tartarus are these guys!? And why are they listening to you!?” she demanded, fixing the mint unicorn with an angry and accusing stare. Lyra sighed as she worked up the courage to look Bon Bon in the eye and explain herself. “Well, like I was saying… remember that ‘special order’ I told you about a couple weeks ago?” “Yeah? A ‘build-your-own-human kit’ or something, right?” Bon Bon replied, quirking an eyebrow. Lyra shook her head. “Not that, but ‘my very own superhuman,’ from that, uh… ‘special imports company,’ remember?” “Yeeaahh…” the earth pony drew out slowly, really disliking where her friend’s explanation was going. “Well…” Lyra held up a hoof, gesturing at the Replicas and the Hind gunship behind her with a sheepish smile. Bon Bon’s eyes widened into saucers as she processed everything Lyra had just told her. “Oh, for ponies’ sake… Really, Lyra?” she asked exasperatedly, facehoofing. “Well, I got a real bargain for them…” Lyra weakly offered. “And what would that be?” “Five hundred bits for a battalion?” Bon Bon’s eyes strained themselves once more. “A battalion!? That’s like, a thousand soldiers!” she half-shouted. “Fifteen hundred, actually…” “WHAT!?” Bon Bon screamed, ready to pounce on the unicorn. The clicking bolt of a readied assault rifle reminded the beige earth pony to mind her manners. Calming herself, she began chewing Lyra out for the incredible circumstances she managed to create for herself. “First off, how in Equestria did you get a hold of an entire battalion of these guys!? I mean, AN ENTIRE BATTALION!? Just, how!?” “Well, I really shouldn’t tell you, but… have you ever heard of a company called Dis and Qordial?” Lyra asked. “Not really…” Bon Bon replied, her curiosity growing about the privileged information her friend was apparently privy to. “Well, before I tell you anything, you have to promise me you won’t tell anypony else what I’m about to tell you. I could get in a lot of trouble!” Lyra said in complete seriousness, looking intently into the other pony’s eyes. “Alright, alright, I promise.” Bon Bon assured her. “Pinkie Promise?” The sweets shop owner blinked at her best friend’s invocation of the ultimate confidence, wondering just what she was getting herself into. “Okay, Pinkie Promise.” she repeated. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Lyra began revealing to her lifelong plebian friend the secret existence of the “special interests firm” that was Dis and Qordial Limited. “Only Equestria’s nobility know about it. It’s a Trottingham company that caters to the… unusual tastes of the country’s elite families.” “Unusual tastes? Like what?” Bon Bon asked, now VERY curious about the secret guilty pleasures of Equestrian society’s upper echelons. “Oh, anything, really. Imported meats like veal and sirloin. They also do more ‘far out there’ stuff like a little vacay in another dimension. Uncle Fancypants says those are real fun.” she finished on a high note, smiling. Bon Bon’s face went green. “M-mm-meat? Nobles eat meat?” she stuttered, nauseated by the thought. “Hey, don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it. It’s a good source of protein!” Lyra said with a lopsided grin, amused at the candy maker’s significant discomfort at the idea. Gagging noises and another facehoof. “Oh, sweet Celestia, Lyra… Anything else I should know about you?” The unicorn began kicking at the ground, shifting her gaze upwards in a smarmy manner. “Well…” “Contact!” one of the Replicas suddenly called. At once, all of them snapped their weapons up and aimed at something in the sky. Before any of them could fire a shot, a polychromatic blur swooped down and snatched Lyra and Bon Bon, taking back to the air with them in the blink of an eye. The blur turned out to be a cyan pegasus with a rainbow mane and tail, a look of determination on her face as she hefted the unicorn and earth pony. “Don’t worry, guys! I’ve got you!” the pegasus shouted as she rapidly put distance between themselves and the Replicas, who sprinted after the kidnapper of their commander and her friend. The landed Hind started up its engines while the other began an aerial pursuit of the three airborne pony mares right over Ponyville. “Rainbow!? The hay are you doing!?” Lyra shouted at the pegasus, earning a perplexed and slightly annoyed look from her. “Uh, I’m saving you and Bon Bon? Duuh…” Rainbow Dash dryly replied, glancing behind themselves to see both helicopter gunships chasing after them. “Well, we don’t need saving! Just put us down!” Lyra demanded, unhappy about being taken from her superhumans. “WHAT!?” Rainbow and Bon Bon yelled simultaneously. “Lyra, have you finally flipped your lid!? You and Bon Bon are about to be vaporized or eaten by a bunch of alien monsters, and you don’t want to be saved from that!? What’s with you!?” Rainbow asked, her speed slowing as confusion overtook her priorities. Lyra only shook her head, denying the pegasus’ claims. “They weren’t about to vaporize or eat us, and they’re not aliens or monsters! Well, they MIGHT be aliens, but that’s beside the point! They’re not dangerous, so just put us down!” Rainbow could only gawk at her, an agape expression on her face. “You HAVE lost it. Or those aliens used some kind of mind ray or something on you and fried your brain. Twilight will know what to do with you.” she said as she adjusted her flight path towards the library. “No I haven’t and no they didn’t! Just let go!” Lyra insisted as she began struggling from the pegasus’ grip. “Forget it!” Rainbow shot back, her patience with the mint unicorn thinning. “Lyra, just stop! Rainbow might be right! You don’t know anything about those things! And they ARE dangerous! They threatened me, remember?” Bon Bon tried to reason with Lyra. “See? Dangerous?” Rainbow reiterated. “Only because you pissed them off by strangling me! Now leggo’!” Lyra argued, increasing her struggle. “Cut it out!” Rainbow ordered, seriously contemplating just dropping her like she wanted. “LET GO!” Lyra finally screamed, delivering a swift punch to Rainbow’s face, the hidden strength of the unicorn mare knocking her out and sending the three plummeting towards the ground. Lyra, only just remembering that they were all very high up in the air, began screaming with Bon Bon, her life flashing before her eyes for the second time that day as she, Bon Bon, and Rainbow fell to their doom. Before they could become pastel-colored smears on the ground, the Replicas that had been pursuing them on foot were suddenly beneath them, catching Lyra and Bon Bon in their arms. A loud and painful sounding thud besides them reminded them of Rainbow’s presence. “Um, why didn’t you catch her?” Lyra asked, eyeing the rainbow-maned cyan pegasus that laid in a crumpled heap on the ground, her expression dazed and her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. Stars were visibly circling over her head and the chirps of cuckoo birds could be heard. “Did you want us to catch her, ma’am? She did attempt to abduct you and your associate.” Alfa Leader asked as he gently set her down on the ground. “Well, yeah. She thought she was saving us from you, so…” Bon Bon began as the Tactical trooper that caught her set her on her hooves. “Is she alright?” Lyra asked no one in particular as she and Bon Bon went over to Rainbow’s prostrated form, noting the occasional twitch of a leg or wing. A pained groan answered her question as Rainbow came to, sitting up and putting a hoof to her addled head. “Wha-“ she began. Before she could get another sound out, she was immediately beset upon by the Replicas, who still regarded the cyan pegasus as a threat. She found herself suddenly flipped onto her belly, a heavy kneepad sitting on her neck, a number of guns pressed against her head, and a combat knife being held to her throat. She would have gulped out of nervous reflex but the feeling of cold, sharpened steel against her throat made her refrain. The Hinds had caught up with them, flying in close to support the soldiers on the ground. The REV6 powered armor stomped up towards them, a mechanical whir accompanying each step as it trained its gattling gun and repeating cannon on the pinned pegasus. The sight of the Replicas storming into the town and the gunships flying in overhead broke what little calm there was after their initial takeover of the park and sent all of Ponyville into a full panic. Ponies all over ran about while screaming their heads off, colliding into each other and tripping over their own hooves as they attempted to flee the scene. Lyra and Bon Bon could only stare at the chaos before them, their mouths agape. A choked plea from Rainbow regained their attention. “Guh, a little help here?” Looking over, Lyra gasped in horror at the Replicas holding Rainbow down. “Ohmygosh! Let her go!” she ordered them. Much to the ponies’ surprise, the soldiers complied, releasing her and backing away, though they still kept their weapons trained on her, not dismissing the cyan pegasus as a threat. Alfa Leader and the Tactical troopers flanked Lyra and Bon Bon, partially shielding them from the injured and irate pegasus. Getting to her hooves and catching her breath, Rainbow wound herself up for a shouting session despite a possibly broken wing. “Lyra!? Bon Bon!? What the HAY is going on!? Who the hay are these guys!? What the hay are those things!? Why the hay are they taking orders from you!? AND WHY THE HAY DID YOU HIT ME!?” she demanded, finishing with a near crack of her voice. “Umm… Well, about them… They’re, uh… friends of mine?” Lyra put forward, smiling innocently while dodging the question of why she punched her. Rainbow’s narrowed eyes and unamused frown conveyed her dissatisfaction with Lyra’s answer. Sighing, she offered another hollow explanation while trying to skirt admitting out loud that she special ordered her own private army. “Look, it’s complicated, and I’m still trying to figure things out myself, but they definitely aren’t dangerous! They won’t hurt anypony! So it’s fine!” Rainbow’s reaction to Lyra’s purported notion that the Replicas were harmless was thus… “AREN’T DANGEROUS!? WON’T HURT ANYPONY!? They threatened Bon Bon, dogpiled me, whatever they hay those things are, and put a knife to my neck! And you still haven’t said why you punched me!” she shouted, grimacing at the end of her rant, feeling her left wing throb in pain. “Well, I hit you because you wouldn’t put us down…” Lyra muttered, starting to feel defensive. “I was trying to save you from those things!” Rainbow asserted once more. “I didn’t need saving!” “Says you! They could still turn on you at any second! You don’t know anything about them!” Rainbow argued. “I know enough that they’ll listen to me, otherwise we wouldn’t be talking right now!” Lyra shot back, a discernable sneer in her voice. Bon Bon seemed taken aback by it. Rainbow snorted. “Oh, yeah, sure! You want me to be chill about these extremely dangerous aliens and their crazy flying machines and whatever else!? Oh, it’s okay! They’re friendly! The resident human nut said so!” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Lyra recoiled slightly at the jab. “No need to be like that…” “You’ve always been out of it, lyre player, but this is too much! Get your head out of your flank and smell the coffee!” Rainbow continued, the pain of her injuries driving her tirade. Lyra began to visibly frown. “Hey…” “These guys are trouble! Or are you too much of a loon to see that!?” The unicorn pursed her lips, fed up with Rainbow’s insults toward her, and decided to exert her authority as the Replicas’ supposed commander. “You know what? The hay with it, just knock her out.” Rainbow’s previous anger was thrown off by the unicorn’s suddenly hostile disposition to her. “Wait, wha-“ CRACK! Author's Note Three. Up next, our heroines go on a little road trip...
Chapter 1: Home Shopping (revised, again)Chapter 1: Home Shopping Lyra sat on her front room’s sofa, speculating the possible contents of the booklet that sat upon her coffee table that had banged so many pony shins. Her daily morning ritual of checking the mail had finally turned up something other than bills, junk mail, and papercuts. The booklet had been sent to her by her uncle, Fancypants. She had been staring at it for a few minutes now, its glossy blue surface defiant and unyielding to the merciless bombardment of the intense gaze from her golden eyes, refusing to surrender the secrets held by its pages. After finally realizing that simply staring at it wouldn’t get her any closer to finding out what it was about, Lyra decided to opt for a more hooves-on approach. Taking hold of it with her magic, she levitated it in front of her and began subjecting the mysterious booklet to a much more intense investigation, actually opening and reading it! The title on the cover read “Dis and Qordial Limited: Home Shopping Catalogue - Spring Deals!” Raising an interested eyebrow, Lyra found herself becoming intrigued in what the catalogue had to offer. She was quite familiar with the company that purported it, having been made aware of it by her relatives in Canterlot. The Trottingham-based “special interests firm” was quite popular among the country’s nobility for being able to cater to even their most wild and twisted fantasies. From forbidden foods and the most deviant sexual experiences to extraplanetary timeshares and interdimensional holidays, there was nothing Dis and Qordial couldn’t provide for the right price. Of course, the company’s existence was a well guarded secret by Equestria’s elite families, lest word of their unusual tastes and hobbies get out to the much more narrow-minded working class ponyfolk. They just wouldn’t understand the incredible sensation of partaking in the most taboo of consumables, meat, beef steaks in particular, a widely popular favorite among the nobles. Beef, the actual MEAT of a cow, cooked rare and bloody, sizzling and seasoned with the finest herbs and spices… It could almost be tasted the terrified despair of Daisy Jo’s cousin right before she received a railroad spike through her forehead courtesy of a pneumatic hammer… The scrumptious suffering of another sapient… Lyra caught herself before she began drooling on the carpet. She turned her attention to her uncle’s letter that accompanied the catalogue and began reading… My dearest niece Lyra, How are you, my dear? It’s been a while since we last saw each other. We really must get together again and catch up. Fleur’s missed you! Anyway, the reason for this letter. I ran into your old magic school classmate Feather Duster the other day at the ol’ pub. She’s doing fine if you’re wondering. After a nice chat, she handed off to me a rather interesting find she came across while cleaning Princess Cadenza’s private chambers up at Canterlot Castle. Her Majesty really ought to be more careful of what she tosses out, ha ha! Back on track, it’s a home shopping catalogue from Dis and Qordial. You should be familiar with them (you and your sirloins, lass). It would appear the Princess has quite the… experimental side. Not surprising in hindsight, considering that she IS the “Princess of Love” and all. Captain Armor must be one happy stallion. Or perhaps not. Rambling again. I know you’re rather passionately involved in that fringe field of study, what was it called? “Anthropology?” Study of humans. There’s something on page seventeen I think you’ll find most interesting… Sincerely, Uncle Fancypants Lyra hummed contentedly as she finished Fancypants’ letter, fondly recalling her father’s brother. Despite what his name might suggest, she knew him to be quite the friendly and approachable unicorn, possibly the only non-snobby noble in all of Canterlot. That he was a major power player in the capital city didn’t seem to affect his demeanor towards others in the slightest. After a moment, she began snickering at what her uncle’s letter had said about Princess Cadence. “Uncle Fancypants is right. I should’ve figured Princess Cadence would be a freak.” she said to herself with a laugh. She now couldn’t help but imagine how the newly wedded Royal couple consummated their marriage on their honeymoon, probably involving a saddle, spurs, and a riding crop. Chuckling at the racy thoughts, Lyra stowed them away for another time, preferably when Bon Bon was around, the mischievous unicorn mare that she was. Taking hold of the catalogue once more, she began flipping through it, perusing the products on offer and quirking an eyebrow more than a few times at the circled items, presumably by Princess Cadence. “Hay, she IS a real freak…” After several pages of sexually enticing evening wear, lingerie, and exotic and highly illegal aphrodisiacs, she finally reached the page indicated by her uncle’s letter. It was dominated by a single advertisement, its loudly bolded text screaming out at her. The subject matter of it greatly aroused her interest, being very close to her heart… Your Very Own Superhuman! A limited-time offer by Dis and Qordial Limited. Imagine it! Your very own Superhuman at your beck and call! Stronger than a thousand earth ponies! Reflexes and dexterity to rival the Wonderbolts! Capable of feats you can’t even imagine! For only 500 bits, you can have a Superhuman to call your very own! Finally silence those neighsayers who dismiss humans as another old pony tale! Imagine their faces! Fill out the order form in the back of the catalogue and mail it to the provided address and receive your Superhuman(s) within 3-4 business weeks. Check or money order only. Lyra’s expression was agape, sheer amazement written all over her face. Her very own human? Not just a regular human, but a full-on SUPERHUMAN? She felt her excitement bubbling up at the prospect. Any doubt or skepticism she might have had about such a bold pitch withered before the reputation of Dis and Qordial, the firm renowned for being able to make any dream come true, no matter how fantastical it may be. Fancypants’ “companion,” Fleur, could attest to that. Who would have thought that the supermodel pony was quite the interdimensional game hunter? “She always said she had to get the oils and secretions for her ‘special baths’ from somewhere…” Lyra muttered aloud. Returning her thoughts to humans, she took the advertisement’s suggestion and began imagining the dumbstruck looks of everyone in Ponyville when she strolled down the street with her superhuman in tow. A devious and pleased smile took hold on her face as she pictured the slack-jawed expressions of all who derided her for her unwavering belief in the existence of humans and dismissed her as some obsessed loon. She would have to be sure to bring a camera… looking at the price again, Lyra found herself cringing slightly at it, finding it a bit steep, though the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that it was worth it if it meant she could finally prove humans to exist and vindicate herself. Her eyes glazed over as she began imagining her own wing in the Canterlot Royal University and Library, completely dedicated to humans and her study thereof. Coming to a decision, Lyra snatched a quill from her writing desk and began filling out the order form with furious speed, an occasional demented giggling fit interrupting the rhythm of her writing. Genevieve Aristide sat in her obscenely expensive Italian leather office swivel chair in her new office, holding in her hand a half-drunken martini in the manner of a truly pretentious corporate executive. Upon her polished mahogany desk was a high-value order forwarded to her by Dis and Qordial Limited, one of Armacham Technology Corporation’s many business partners, the salacious corporate whore that it was. The order called for an entire expeditionary Replica battalion outfitted with air and armor assets. Dis and Qordial acting as the middleman, the buyer was one “Lyra Heartstrings,” a reclusive billionaire hold up somewhere in Kazakhstan. Genevieve quirked a bemused eyebrow at the provided name of the buyer. ’What kind of name is “Lyra Heartstrings,” anyway? Sounds like a high-priced escort.’ she thought to herself. Shrugging, she continued flipping through the document, finding shockingly little in the way of specific details about the buyer. Aside from a name and a rather vague location, there was nothing else stated about Lyra Heartstrings. She shrugged once more, not particularly caring that she knew next to nothing about a potential buyer for their own private army. Now while another more responsible and globally conscious executive might wonder for more than a fleeting moment who exactly this buyer was and what they could possibly want with over a thousand mindless clone supersoldiers, Genevieve just couldn’t bring herself to care. They had already paid in full through Dis and Qordial and even purchased indefinite servicing and warranty for their battalion, and that’s all that mattered to her. The bony-faced and morally bankrupt Aristide was never one to turn away a paying customer, after all… She leaned back in her chair, taking a moment to reflect on the enormous amount of trouble she and the company went through to contain the fallout of the Origin and Perseus projects. While she didn’t know the precise details of how both incidents were ultimately resolved, the reports on them made mention of ice cream cones, potato crisps, Paxton Fettel’s apparent Oedipus complex, and the employment of a freelance sex worker to alleviate it. It was around there that she stopped reading, finding the suggested implications both unfortunate and repulsive. Shaking her head clear of the disturbing thoughts, Genevieve leaned forward and grabbed the phone on her desk before dialing the sales department, eager to get things started. On the outskirts of the massive smoldering blast mark that was the city of Fairport, a rundown airfield was bustling with activity, none of which was particularly legal. A fleet of transport planes were parked on the many taxiways of the airfield, their cargo bays being loaded with a multitude of militarized civilian vehicles and an immense volume of equipment, ordnance, and other materials. Myriads of genetically identical Replica soldiers were also boarding the planes, packing themselves tightly into their assigned seats. Collectively designated the 22nd Replica Battalion, the clone supersoldiers that comprised this unit were preparing to set out to rendezvous with their new pony commander. The details about their equine master had been disseminated to them in the final stages of their psychological conditioning. While in a hypnotic trance, anonymous voices whispered into their ears their life’s purpose, to obey all that their commander orders… and that their commander was a marshmallowey mint-coated unicorn named Lyra Heartstrings. Images of Lyra’s saccharine visage were subliminally broadcasted to their then highly suggestible minds. Her mint-colored coat and mane accented with white streaks, huge golden eyes and an amazingly human-like smile, a horn jutting out from her forehead, and most curiously a picture of a lyre printed onto her flank. Her cartoonish appearance was permanently burned into their memories along with the utterly ridiculous notion that they were to be unswervingly loyal and completely obedient to her. While normal human soldiers might be a little skeptical about taking orders from an oversized and incredibly adorable and huggable sapient plush toy, the Replicas bore no such complaints, accepting completely the equine nature of their soon-to-be pony overlord. Armacham Technology’s Replica line of genetically engineered psychic supersoldiers weren’t the type to question their commander or the orders they issued even in the slightest. Be they psychotic, cannibalistic madmen, ghosts of emotionally dead little girls doing a poor impression of Japanese onryos, or indeed cartoon unicorns from another universe entirely, the Replicas would follow them to hell and back and perform Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” while there if so ordered. The end result of such an ethically obscene process was an entire army of mindless drones, ready to take or rescue hostages, massacre entire villages or deliver aid and protection to them, to be the most monstrous of killers or the most saintly of saviors, all on their commander’s say-so. A short distance away from the rest of the battalion, a unique group of Replicas were boarding a trio of C-17 Globemaster cargo planes with their own specialized vehicles and hardware. Simply designated as “Replica Command,” the Replicas that made up this internal unit were the dedicated command team of the 22nd Replica Battalion, specially trained in all manner of strategies and tactics and tasked with assisting their commander in matters of command and troop coordination and ensure a smooth operation. Inside a communications center in one of the planes was the battalion’s assembled subcommanders, currently coordinating the loading of the battalion and its hardware onto the planes, primarily by shouting at them over the radio to hurry up. At long last, it seemed they all were finally ready to go. The subcommanders began radioing the individual sections they were each responsible for, ensuring all was set and accounted for before setting themselves and the rest of the battalion off on their journey. “Alfa Company, check in!” “Bravo Company, confirm status.” “Charlie Company, good to go?” “Delta Company, all set?” “Echo Company, report.” “Foxtrot Company, ready?” “Golf Company, ready to fly?” One by one, the immediate captains of each company reported back to them, declaring their state of readiness. “Alfa Leader, ready to go!” “Sir, ready to depart.” “Jacked up and good to go, sir!” “Affirmative, Lead. All set.” “Reporting. Ready.” “Now and always.” “Roger that.” Satisfied, the subcommanders issued the order for all planes to take off. The 22nd Replica Battalion was en route. Author's Note You may notice a few changes...
