CWiE: Clan Wolf in Equestria

Chapters

Chapter 1: Hunting
Chapter 2: In Far Country
Chapter 3: Blinded With Science
Chapter 4: Wolf on the Border
Chapter 5: Wake Up Call
Chapter 6: Lyran Affairs
Chapter 7: And Seventeen Clanner Refrigerators Grew Proud

Chapter 1: Hunting

Cadet Flynn walked through the door leading to a set of steps to his BattleMech. It was time for his next lesson, hunting another 'Mech.

As far as any of his superiors were concerned, Flynn was one of three members of the Scarlet Howl sibko raised on Circe to have made it this far in training. He was mildly notable for his above average test scores and knowledge of a BattleMech. However, he also neared being reprimanded on at least three separate occasions due to his accused arrogant attitude. Other than the aforementioned traits, Flynn was considered to be nothing special.

This is it, he thought, climbing the stairs, each step making a metallic thud. I get to actually fight another BattleMech. I get to prove myself that, unlike what the instructor is wont to claim, I am not some surat. He reached the top of the stairs and looked to his left.

A massive humanoid machine rested at the other end of a platform, its arms were raised above its torso like a Y, with the forearms bent and pointing forward. The machine was an unremarkable tan aside from the logo of Clan Wolf painted near the left 'armpit'.

I feel so grateful that I was born into Clan Wolf, the proudest, mightiest and noblest of all the Clans. The Cadet slowed down slightly so that he could look at the symbol longer - a howling red wolf in front of a matching red bar, with six stars forming a horizontal row. I wish, no, I promise that I will rise high into the ranks of my Clan. My actions will earn me my Bloodname. And when the Treaty of Tukayyid expires I will strike the Inner Sphere with the wrath of the Wolf. Then, when I stand upon the sacred grounds of Terra, I wil-

“Today, wetnose!”

Flynn snapped back to reality, his daydreaming had caused him to stop just a few meters from entering his designated Firemoth. He quickly entered the 'Mech and prepared to start up the machine. “Only scientists are allowed to daydream, Cadet. And you have nowhere near the intelligence necessary to be one with that wet sponge inside your thick skull.” His instructor said through the speakers in the neurohelmet to Flynn's side.

“Aff, sir.” Flynn nervously said, putting on his neurohelmet. His instructor did not hear him however, the minimal communications suite inside his Firemoth could only receive signals standard. Diagnostics were complete, all systems were nominal, all he needed to do now was activate the reactor.

After doing just that, a series of heads up displays blinked into Flynn's vision. Namely his radar, compass, the status of his 'Mech represented in blue two-dimensional wireframe and, to his slight pleasure, the weapons: Two Medium Lasers, one in each arm and a machine gun array in the center torso, right under the cockpit. It was not an impressive arsenal - a standard Firemoth had an SRM-4 and an SRM-6 in place of the machine gun - but it was an upgrade from the two Small Lasers he had before.

The most important thing that Flynn could see was the Timber Wolf standing perpendicular to his 'Mech. It was one of the most fearsome OmniMechs ever invented, and it was being piloted by one of the most fearsome people Flynn knew: his instructor.

“Okay, Cadet, follow me to Nav Alpha.” The Timber Wolf proceeded to run off full speed to the northwest, toward a cluster of mock buildings a couple kilometers away. Flynn did as he told and throttled his Firemoth to half-speed. If he wanted to, he could run circles around the slower but much heavier 'Mech. However, his orders were explicit, follow, not orbit. According to his instructor, as long as he did as he said, he would not get upset. His instructor also said that he does bad things when he is upset, and considering the standard armament of a Timber Wolf, he had all the credibility he needed.

“Today you are to engage your first BattleMech.” The confirmation was enough to return Flynn to attention. A small grin formed on his recently shaven face. “Before you get too excited, do not think that the Clan would waste a state-of-the-art machine on a worthless Cadet like you. Out there at Nav Beta is a drone 'Mech, it is not fast, and it has outdated weapons. Nonetheless it is dangerous to fleshy-headed mutants like yourself. Kill it, and meet me at Nav Gamma.”

Flynn had his orders, and ran off to where his computer designated Nav Beta. His instructor slowed to a halt moments ago to observe him from a distance.

“Autopilot: Engaged.” Flynn let his Nav computer take over while he thought about what type of 'Mech he would be fighting. They were always supposed to be between twenty and thirty tons, meaning he could be fighting anything from another Firemoth, to a formidable Kit Fox, or something in between like a Mist Lynx. Whatever it was, Flynn was ready to take it down.

Even as he neared his destination he felt antsy, he was on the edge of his seat, constantly adjusting himself to get comfortable. Just a few more moments and a check for hostiles later, he would need to sober up and be serious. He had to make sure this anxiousness did not follow him when he would cut his teeth against the green chickens. Sure, he would need to win his Trial of Position first, but beating a washed-up MechWarrior pilot should not be much harder than the drone awaiting him.

“Autopilot: Disabled. Remote Piloting: Engaged.”

“What?!” Flynn shouted out loud, looking around his cockpit for anything that could have triggered this new setting.

Whoever was now controlling his Firemoth was making it veer off course, he was now headed west toward another collection of mock buildings used for inspection training - his next lesson after hunting.

Despite his efforts he was unable to retake total control of his 'Mech. He could still twist the torso and move the arms, but the legs of his 'Mech were being possessed by some outside force.

“Scrub, why are you heading towards the inspection training grounds? That is not Nav Beta, correct your course.” Flynn's instructor sternly ordered with the slightest hint of confusion.

Wait, if he is not controlling his 'Mech, who was? It could not be headquarters - they would have told his instructor beforehand otherwise. And judging from how genuine his agitation was, that was not the case. There was only one assumption left to make:

Sabotage.

Though this may have answered his previous question, it only presented two more. Who would do this, and why? Flynn tried to remember any instance where he might have ticked off a technician. The only act he could think of was when he talked down to a technician four months ago, except that tech was stationed at another base, and was likely still there.

What about the Jade Falcons? The thought left his mind almost as soon as it entered. It would be uncharacteristic and outright dishonorable for a rival Clan to do such a dirty trick - especially the Falcons. Not to mention that surely a potential saboteur would target something more valuable than a training 'Mech...

“Cadet Flynn of the Wolf Clan, you are disobeying a direct order from a superior officer. Shut down your 'Mech and await your Trial of Grievance. If you refuse, Star Commander Morton is authorized to utilize lethal force. You have ten seconds to comply.” This was a different, unfamiliar voice, probably some communications operator from the HQ speaking on behalf of the commanding officer.

Not. Good.

Those two words were the only thing on Flynn's mind, he was unable to shut down his 'Mech - not from lack of trying - nor was he able to eject. Whoever was behind this was thorough in both regards. The Cadet was now squirming in his chair trying to take off his harnesses in some last-ditch attempt at preserving his life. The young, aspiring pilot simply could not allow his promising career to be cut short, not this way at least.

Time was not on his side, as klaxons wailed throughout the cockpit - he was locked on, and would receive a bombardment of as many as forty LRMs to his backside. Two salvos of LRM-20s was more than enough to shred a 'Mech twice the weight of a Firemoth to pieces.

The Firemoth reached the fake buildings. “No...” He whispered to himself, “Not like this!” he jerked the torso of his 'Mech as far to the right as it could. If he was to meet death here, he at least wanted to face it. At that same time, the right leg was in the middle of flexing forward when it froze in place. The sudden shift in weight caused the machine to lean over and fall behind a fake building. In what can be considered a stroke of immense good fortune, the missiles were still far away enough to maneuver into a collision course with the structure. An even greater moment of luck was that Flynn endured the fall without any injuries, some bruises here and there, but nothing serious. Though he still hit his head hard enough to be knocked out despite his neurohelmet absorbing most of the shock.

Star Commander Morton simply sat there in disbelief. Right after being given the order to fire upon the rogue Cadet, and after said Cadet ducked behind the building, the single most baffling, outright jaw-dropping moment in his life occurred.

He had to give the Cadet some credit - taking cover behind the building like that was a clever, if dishonorable tactic. It was when the missiles struck the structure that things got weird.

By weird, he meant that an enormous surge of energy was detected by his computer coming from the structure, the building itself was expectedly scarred, but largely intact. Blue electricity, similar to that discharged by a PPC surged and cackled in the air. The feeling in his gut scolded him that he just hit something he really, really should not have.

“Command, what was in there?” He regained some focus and spoke into his communicator.

“I do not know, Star Commander. Whatever it is, it is giving off a lot of energy, on a scale only found on Kearny-Fuchida drives.” Another communications operator replied, no less baffled than the MechWarrior.

“No, it's exceeding the scale!” Morton could hear another operator shout in the background, he almost ignored the contraction considering the dire situation. Almost.

“You are saying that thing could blow up and take out the base at any second?!” Morton barked into the microphone connected to his neurohelmet.

“Neg! That anomaly has enough power to destroy the continent!

“The energy is starting to contain itself somehow!” The other operator exclaimed. “It's concentrating into the area immediately around itself.” Strike two for contractions.

“Do something!” Morton was on the verge of panicking, this was not a good way to die for his Clan in the least.

“It's going to blow, brace for shockwave!” Morton shut his eyes as hard as he could before the sentence could be completed. It was that quick reflex that may have saved him from being rendered blind by the brightest flash of light he would ever see. The reinforced glass windows of the Timber Wolf's cockpit cracked and shattered from the kinetic force, the 'Mech as a whole staggered from the blast.

Morton released the breath he held, and realized he was still alive. He hesitantly opened his eyes and scanned the controls. The windows were completely gone, or rather scattered everywhere, including his face. The most surprising thing of all was that not only did his 'Mech sustain practically superficial damage, the same applied to the base. Most of the windows were disintegrated, and the flagpole waving the proud banner of Clan Wolf was torn off, but otherwise the base was largely unscathed and it was likely most of the inhabitants were okay as well. The biggest change was that what was once the target inspection site was a massive crater. Even then quick torrents of electricity still danced about its perimeter.

There was one thing that got to Morton, however. Though he did not, nor was expected to know much about K-F drives, were they not supposed to give off a lot of radiation? That obviously was not the case here, because he was still alive and did not feel ill whatsoever. A little shaken perhaps, but nothing he could not recover quickly from.

In any regard, this was one of those situations that he did not care about how or why something happened the way it did, just that it did. It was the Scientist Caste's job to figure these things out anyways.

“Star Commander, are you still alive. Quineg?” One of the operators, specifically the one who made those sacrilegious contractions.

“Aff, freebirth.” Morton replied with thinly veiled scorn.

“Excellent, dock at Mechbay three and await further orders. Quiaff?”

“Aff.” Without further instruction, Morton throttled his Timber Wolf back to base.

Flynn groaned as he regained consciousness, reflexively shutting his eyes as soon as he opened them. Whatever happened, there was now a bright light shining on him. He slowly opened his eyes again, this time they adjusted better.

He was still in his Firemoth, but the Cadet quickly realized something was wrong. A wave of uneasiness washed over himself. His muscles felt weak, his head was still throbbing and his stomach was dancing around in his gut and he struggled to fight back to urge to vomit. As he looked out the cockpit window; a wasteland awaited him, a rocky, reddish desert all the way to the horizon.

He tried to think back to what happened, but his headache seemed to worsen whenever he tried to remember anything beyond his orders to stand down. He did manage to piece together the fact that his 'Mech was falling to the ground. Everything else was too blurry to recollect.

Yet, from the angle he was looking at the ground, he could tell that his Firemoth was standing upright. Flynn's anxiety mixed with the added confusion, and exasperated the already queasy MechWarrior's condition.

As Flynn struggled against nausea, he reminded himself that needed to adapt to the situation at hand. Somehow, he and his 'Mech have been moved somewhere else, but why? He was not far from where he started regarding his situation. His 'Mech gets hacked by an unknown party, then he gets relocated while he was out cold? It just did not add up.

Flynn began to swallow his saliva hastily, an impulse that signified he was going to throw up at any moment. He was not about to let that happen, the last thing he needed now was to get his breakfast all over the control panel.

Although his head still hurt and he was quite shaken up by everything, he reached for the restraints in his chair. Whatever muscle weakness that remained in him was willed away as the MechWarrior removed his safety harness. Once the belt was off he slouched back in his chair slightly to put his stomach at an angle. He did not know if it would help - if anything he may have been making the problem worse - but it was the best he could think up on short notice.

For a few moments Flynn rested in his chair, the nausea grew fainter and fainter until he decided it was at an acceptable level. He sat back up and took another look at his surroundings outside. He looked to his left, red sands, a few oddly placed mesas, and typical desert wildlife. He then looked to his right, with similar results. The only things that Flynn immediately found peculiar was that the sun seemed to be a bit low in the sky, as if it was literally the size of a small moon and was hanging in low orbit. He put it down as a hallucination, he was still disoriented from what had happened and whether Circe had a personal star nearby or not was the least of his concerns.

Then there was the desert flora, mainly the cactuses (or was it cacti?) scattered around his field of view. They were nothing Flynn had recognized on Circe, they looked too... vulnerable, too docile for the harsh conditions the planet bore.

This observation only made a new addition to the Cadet's list of unanswered questions. Just where was he?

Author's Note

I hope I am able to portray Clansmen decently here. Outside of what Sarna.net and the holoprojectors in MW2 tell me, my knowledge of BattleTech is limited. I fear I am making him too stereotypical, or worse, "Spherical". If there are any questions, concerns and/or suggestions regarding Flynn's charaterization or other aspects of the story, please leave them in a comment so I can make the appropriate changes.

Chapter 2: In Far Country

Cadet Flynn was in a tough situation. Not only was he having the most bizarre day of his life, but it resulted in him being lost in the middle of an unfamiliar desert. Somehow, on the way to beating his first BattleMech in combat. The MechWarrior's Firemoth was hacked and subsequently fired upon. The last thing he can remember was his 'Mech falling over behind a fake structure. Next thing he knew, he woke up where he was.

Am I dead? Flynn thought aloud, holding up his hands before him and flexing his fingers. He did not feel dead, but that may have been attributed to the fact that he did not know what death felt like, or of there being an afterlife.

Flynn never did spend much time on what would happen to his soul when he died. Some members of his sibko said they would join the Founder and the Great Father among the heavens, others just thought of oblivion. What they all agreed on was that whatever the afterlife may hold - if there was one - was not to influence their actions in life. Otherwise it may put their genetic legacies in jeopardy.

There was nothing here that signified importance, and the Cadet decided it was time to explore and gain his bearings. He sat up in his chair, his nausea was all but gone but his headache was only beginning to ebb away. It would be an uncomfortable ride, but it would not be a disabling one. Flynn went through a pre-startup check and activated his 'Mech

One of the things he picked up at some point during his training was that upon startup the onboard computer would state the name of the planet, its ambient temperature and the local time. This only happened if the 'Mech was on the planet for the first time or had otherwise been off world. Therefore, if he was still on Circe, the computer would say nothing.

However, Flynn was in for a serious surprise. The reactor powered up, making a progressively louder hum before stabilizing at a certain volume. The Firemoth stood up straighter than it already had, to which Flynn recognized by the cockpits view leaning upwards slightly. What shocked the Cadet was not the fact that he was somehow off-planet, but rather the planet that he ended up on.

“Planet: Earth. Ambient temperature: Nine-seven-point-three-four degrees. Local time is: Ten-fifty-nine-twelve GST. All systems nominal.”

Terra...

He was on Terra.

Cadet Flynn gripped the ends of armrests tightly, and sat in his chair staring blankly at the control panel. The only company he had in the cockpit was his own heavy breathing and the occasional beep from the computer. In what was meant only as a casual announcement for his location had resulted in being a revelation that shook him to his core.

The first thing that came to mind was that he was deceased, and in a way that allowed him no honor from his Clan. Whatever - whoever had done this set him up, and yet, there were no significant suspects. Any potential enemy with technical knowledge of a BattleMech was somewhere else and likely had more pressing things to do than murder a Cadet. That, or a potential saboteur failed miserably in their mission and he was merely collateral.

Both theories were far-fetched at best and absurd at worst. There just was not enough fruit worth to bear either way.

Flynn took a deep breath and cleared his thoughts. He was dead, there was nothing he could do about it. However, he was obviously privileged enough to be allowed to see Terra, and he would not waste this opportunity to explore his true home, regardless if his Clan now saw him as dezgra. Flynn shook his head at the last thought, he seemed unable to defeat his worries now, but he could at least cast them aside for the time being.

The Cadet glanced at the wireframe representation of his Firemoth's status: an all blue trace of the front of his 'Mech. Flynn switched to the HTAL readings, the outline of his 'Mech morphed into a series of solid green bars under the letters, H, T, A, and L: head, torso, arms and legs respectively. His 'Mech did not have a scratch on it, Flynn was briefly surprised by the readings - the fall his 'Mech had would have at least busted an actuator somewhere - but quickly realized that his rules did not necessarily apply anymore. Every other system, from radar to weapons was in a similar state of ideal condition.

Having determined everything was set, Flynn decided it was time to get out of the middle of nowhere and find civilization. The Cadet depressed the throttle and the Mech took a step forward, followed by another and a third after that. Within seconds the Firemoth darted across the desert at its top speed of 150 kph.

Flynn swayed gently to the sides as his 'Mech ran, a subtle reminder to him that even in death he still had skill as a pilot. He denounced the impulse belief that he would never need these skills quickly from his mind. To exist in an afterlife without battles, war or otherwise conflict would be regarded as eternal punishment to any Clan warrior. I wonder to whom I shall be honored to fight, or at least meet. Flynn thought, thinking up of three people.

The first was the Great Father himself, Aleksandr Kerensky, Protector of the Star League. It was he who led the Star League Defense Force into involuntary exile as the Inner Sphere collapsed into itself. Sadly, even he could not keep the deep wounds of civil strife at bay amongst his followers. However, his son, Nicholas, could heal these wounds. In creating a second exodus and taking eight hundred warriors with him, the Founder created the Clans and retook the Pentagon Worlds in Operation Klondike. Of these eight hundred, the first Khan of Clan Wolf and the founder of Flynn's bloodline, Jerome Winson, was at the head of the Eden front.

It was settled, he would meet the three most important people to him in the afterlife. All that remained of his goals was to find out where they would be. Flynn slowed his Firemoth to walking speed to allow himself to think harder. The capital of the Star League was Unity City, located somewhere around an area called the Puget Sound on the continent of North America.

His mind went blank at the realization that he knew little about the native geography of Terra. He could tell that he was on the North American continent, considering that the local cacti was similar to the genetically modified cacti on Circe, and the cacti on Circe was based on a North American species. But that was it, the Puget Sound could be at the northern or southernmost extremes of the continent, or anywhere in between.

A new thought entered Flynn's mind, when - and if - he reached Unity City, would the Kerenskys even be there? After all, the Great Father and his two sons were born in Moscow, a city in a continent called Europe, and even Flynn knew that would mean Moscow was on the other side of the planet.

And yet, what if that was somehow a test? Maybe meeting the Founder required tests of faith, loyalty and courage so difficult that only the warriors who not only were the equals, but possibly superiors to the eight hundred could accomplish. Flynn agreed with himself that that was the case, it would at least give greater meaning to his traveling than simply finding one's way out of the desert.

Flynn returned the Firemoth to full speed, the cloud of dust quickly turned into a swollen, tan streak of sand, dirt, rocks and things kicked up by the 'Mech's heels. Remaining vigilant, Flynn would twist the torso of his 'Mech to the left and right regularly to scout the landscape.

Still nothing but cacti, sand, and mesas as far as he could see.

Flynn knew that as long as he kept in one direction long enough, he would assuredly find a road, or otherwise some path to civilization. Once he found a road, he would then follow it to where his next challenge awaited. If not, at least he would have found a better idea of where to look.

“Neg,” The MechWarrior said aloud, recollecting a quote from the Founder. “True warriors do not follow paths, they make them.”

Flynn realized at that moment that if he were to use a road as a guide, he would surely fail. He had to make his own path, a path to civilization not laid out by laborers and architects, but by unwavering devotion and perseverance.

And for a half-hour he did just that, he ignored the railroad he crossed, or the beaten dirt roads likely made from generations of traveling merchants. He even gave nothing more than a cursory glance to the herd of buffalo resting near an abandoned, primitive settlement. All he did was run in one direction: forward.

To his satisfaction, the fruits of his dedication had been literal. During the last few minutes of his trek across the wastes, a sage green rim emerged over the horizon in front of him. As he drew closer the rim morphed into a forest, no, an orchard of trees. When he zoomed in with his HUD, tiny light green and crimson specks dotted the flora.

Not far from the orchard were a cluster of wooden buildings. Their design was practical for a small trading post, even if it did look archaic to Flynn. It did raise another question to his list of unanswered queries: If Terra was the most industrious city in the Inner Sphere, neg, known space. Why would such a town still use structures easily centuries old, more importantly, why would it even exist at all? Would the inhabitants not realize that other towns were more advanced and move there? Or perhaps, the townspeople only saw technology as a means to an end, and avoided it when possible.

Whatever the reason, Flynn had reached the outskirts of the orchard. He had made his path, now he needed to know where to make his next.

“Shutting down.” The computer chimed, the reactor hum made its finale in a fading whir. The HUD vanished from sight and the lights dimmed in the cockpit. Flynn took off his neurohelmet and set it on the floor to the side of his chair. He then unfastened his safety harness, got up from his chair and stretched. He did not know how long he was seated, but to stand up and move about was well-appreciated.

The Cadet stepped to the entrance, the cockpit was small and cramped, but still large enough to carry a second person in relative comfort. The door released and the dry desert air wafted into Flynn's nostrils. The air was incredible, it was crisp, clear and fresh, unlike the stale, heavily recycled air in the cockpit or the hellish atmosphere of Circe.

He could not spend all day being distracted by smelling the sacred air of Terra, however. He needed to stay on target, he needed to reach the Founder. A retractable cable ladder unfurled beneath the door and stopped only a foot or so from the ground. Taking one final deep breath of the air, he slowly descended the ladder.

When he reached the bottom step he paused for a brief moment, he was just about to step foot on Terra, the mere thought was simply shocking to the young MechWarrior. He was about to do something that every Clansman before - and certainly many after - him dreamed of since the first Exodus. It was by no means an easy step to take from his ladder.

A moment later, and Flynn was on the ground, having discarded the fact of the earth he was standing on now. Yet another test, he thought. Maybe this test is to determine my willpower by presenting me the beauty of Terra, all in an effort for me to stray from the Way of the Clans.

The Cadet stepped toward a tree a few meters away from his Firemoth, and looked back at his 'Mech. Was it really a good idea to leave it there? It was not like someone could hijack it - again - while he was at the town. However, the townspeople may, for apparent reasons, be terrified by the fact that a ten meter tall war machine was parked just outside their orchard.

But perhaps Flynn was over-thinking all of this. BattleMechs had been around for centuries, it was practically impossible for any civilized world, let alone Terra to be ignorant of the machines. He needed to go to the town and stay focused while doing so. He could not afford to see the forest for the trees right now, even if it was technically an orchard.

Flynn paced down column after column of trees until he reached the town proper. He looked around, and not a single soul was in sight. He knew there were people here, - the orchards looked too well maintained to be wild, he just needed to know where.

The sound of a piano playing gave him the hint he needed, he traced the music coming from a saloon around the center of town, across the street from what seemed to be the town hall. Flynn walked up to the structure, taking a look at the slightly tinted windows, he would be unable to see inside from them. That was not his concern, and the MechWarrior walked up the fronts steps and through the sliding doors.

As soon as he passed the doors, Flynn froze wide-eyed in place. Sitting at the tables were... Horses, of varying colors, all staring back at him. They wore ancient laborer attire one would expect on humans, specifically that attuned to ranching. Even more surprising was that there were mugs, plates of half-eaten meals, silverware and playing cards at the tables, and that some of the horses inexplicably held these items by their hooves.

Flynn began to step forward towards the counter, most of the horses returning to their meals and games without uttering a peep. He sat down at a bar stool and quickly assessed the situation. There is no way they could be real horses, he thought, massaging his head. They just look so... docile. The only equines Flynn knew of were the Hell Horses of Circe. Large, highly aggressive beasts with an affinity for caves. They lived up to their name and then some - no less thanks to being genetically engineered - as no one had ever tamed a Hell Horse.

These things, however, were the exact opposite of Hell Horses. For one, they were much smaller, their bodies seemed to have been “rounded”, for want of a better word, in every sense. Their eyes were much too big for their head and took on a myriad of colors. Their manes and tails, too were unnaturally colored and some frankly looked too... human to be on a horse. The most unsettling aspect of all was that, these things were obviously smart, too smart for horses to possibly be. They used tools, they looked at him directly with full attention, and they dressed in human clothing seemingly tailored for them.

Flynn was not intimidated by the idea of sentient horses inhabiting the afterlife, not if their appearance was any indication of their nature. If they were only eying him suspiciously, and not panicking or attacking on sight of him, it would mean that these horses had been around humans before. Flynn grunted at the thought of fighting these animals, perhaps if they were determined enough, they could swarm him like a pack of cowardly carrion eaters without too many losses.

“Well howdy, partner, don't reckon Ah've seen anypony like you around these parts.” A voice to Flynn's left called to him in some malformed dialect - certainly nothing resembling proper Star League Standard English. The Cadet jolted upwards from his slouching position and bolted his head to the left.

One of the horses, a light yellow colt with a long golden mane had just greeted him. He took a better look at the horse, it had thin green irises in proportion to its massive eyes, its mane and its tail seemed to be two different, even shades of yellow. It wore a slanted hat Flynn would expect a tender of livestock in the Laborer Caste would wear, and some kind of beige leather vest to go with it. The last notable trait was that a picture of an apple was grafted onto its sides like a tattoo - probably an identification mark made by the owner of the horse.

Still, the horse did ask who he was. Flynn got up from his chair, towering over the horse by a solid two and a half feet, and introduced himself. “I am Cadet Flynn of the Wolf Clan, to whom do I address my queries to?”

The horse looked confused initially, but enthusiastically responded once it seemed to understand Flynn's words. “Well, mah name's Braeburn, and you're happenin' to be stoppin' by the best eatery in-” The horse stood on its hind legs and kicked its forelegs in the air. “Appleloosa!”

“Appleloosa?” Flynn asked, not particularly phased by the pun.

In the wake of everything so far, having a two-sided conversation with a horse may not have been as shocking as it should have. It felt almost like a dream really, but Flynn's instincts suggested that it was all very real, and Flynn knew well to trust his instincts.

“That's right! 'bout a few months ago we all set up our orchard out here in the Mild West.” Braeburn pointed one of his hooves to the other horses in the saloon. “I'd say thing has been goin' pretty good so far.”

“For a bunch of freebirth laborers, maybe.” Flynn spoke loud and clear for Braeburn to hear, if he was going to insult the horse, he would at least do it to its face. The MechWarrior was not pleased at the fact that Braeburn was butchering his language with contractions, but what could he expect from a talking equine?

“Hey, don't have anythin' nice to say 'bout our home, don't say anything at all.” Braeburn furrowed his brow at the Cadet's snide remark.

“And you think that just because you said so that I am going to become mute? Especially from a horse?” Flynn crossed his arms and glared down at Braeburn, “If you want me to respect your crop, you must earn it in battle.”

Braeburn looked Flynn straight in the eye. “Mister, we don't like roughhousers around these parts, Ah suggest you finish your business in this town sooner rather than later.” Flynn could hear other horses getting up from their meals and games, perhaps the equines were not as big as pushovers as they first seemed.

It quickly dawned on Flynn that while he was interested in testing the horses combat skills, he knew there was no honor in fighting civilians over petty squabbles. “Surkai,” the Cadet said, resting his arms to his sides. “I ask for the Rede of Forgiveness from you for my actions.” Flynn then quoted three lines from the Remembrance, the ongoing epic depicting the history of the Clans. “Laborers to till the land, to do the tasks: They shall have our undying gratitude, For they are the muscle behind us all.”

Braeburn just stood there not sure what to do. “Um, apology accepted?”

“I thank you, I await the punishment you intend for me to accept.”

“Um...” Braeburn looked around the room nervously until his eyes focused on something next to Flynn. “Well, you need to, uh, drink a whole mug of apple cider within ten seconds.” It was the best punishment he could think up without actually trying to hurt his guest - at worst he would get a bad case of hiccups.

On cue, a bartender horse took a mug and held it under a barrel's spout as cider poured into the container. The barrel's contents were apparently drained as the spout sputtered and the stream turned into progressively slower dripping. Nonetheless, there was still enough fluid to get the mug nearly full.

“Down to our last barrel, Braeburn.” The bartender shouted, looking back at the horse. “Sure you still wanna give him the cider?”

“Yeah, it's on me.” Braeburn fished into an inside pocket and pulled out a single gold coin, and exchanged it for the mug with the bartender. Braeburn then slid the mug to Flynn. “Ah'l count the time.”

Flynn clutched the mug by the handle up to his nose and smelled the contents, it was apple cider for sure, but he hoped that the beverage was not alcoholic. Flynn did not want to get drunk just yet, not before celebrating his unity with the Kerenskys - and likely not even then.

“Ready,” Braeburn announced, keeping his eye on a clock across the room. “Go!”

Without hesitation, Flynn chugged the mug of its contents, it was then that he realized how thirsty he really was. He knew being in the desert for who knows how long can result in dehydration without drinking water constantly, but it was not like Flynn really needed to worry about dying twice.

Flynn slammed the mug down onto the counter with one second to spare, Braeburn's eyes widened even further in surprise. “Ah guess that means you are forgiven, partner.” The Cadet breathed heavily for a few moments before willing himself to normalcy. “You're not from around here are you?”

“Neg,” Flynn replied, sitting back down in his stool. The Cadet felt he should not stay in Appleloosa for any longer than necessary and continue his journey. “Horse, I-”

“We're ponies, sir.” Braeburn corrected.

“Pony, I request the location of Unity City. Do you know where I may find it?”

Braeburn did a gesture that Flynn assumed was a shoulder shrug. “Sorry, partner, doesn't ring a bell.”

Perhaps I should not expect the ponies to be smart enough to know of the Founder. Flynn thought, But I may as well try again. “What about Moscow?”He asked.

“Moscob?” Braeburn readjusted his hat with a hoof as he leaned his head to one side. “Shoot, that's on the other side of Equestria.”

“That is what you use when referring to Terra. Quiaff?” The Cadet queried as he leaned forward slightly in his stool.

“Come again?”

“Query affirmitve?” Flynn clarified.

“Ah guess so,” Braeburn walked over to one of the windows. “If that's where you're headed, the next train to Canterlot is due in a half hour, if y'all willin' to wait.”

Flynn was starting to lose his patience, why did he keep referring to puns and false towns? “I do not wish to go to 'Canterlot', pony. I wish to meet the Great Father at his place of birth! Not dwell further among more horses.”

“Sorry, Flynn was it? Ah didn't think you'd like runnin' around like a chicken with its head cut off either.” Braeburn lifted up one of his forelegs in an unnatural angle and put his hoof up to his chin to scratch it as he paced in a small circle. “But I do know somepony who can help ya.” The pony faced Flynn and pointed the hoof in the air at the announcement.

“How so?” On the inside, Flynn questioned himself if Braeburn was really suggesting going to another horse for help.

“Well, mah cousin Applejack in Ponyville said in a recent letter that she made a new friend, who happens to be the new librarian. Maybe if you went to her, she could help ya out.”

He did.

Flynn got back out of his chair and crossed his arms. “Are there better alternatives available?”

“If there were, Ah would have told you those instead. Ah'm sure Applejack's friend could answer your questions better than me.” Braeburn began searching inside one of his inner pockets. “Want me to pay for your ticket?”

“Neg, just inform me of where I must go to find 'Ponyville'” Flynn replied, tapping his fingers to lazily create air quotes

“You're really gonna walk the whole way?” Braeburn asked, more concerned at the claim than surprised. He trotted over to the window again and urged Flynn to follow. “See those train tracks there?” He raised a hoof to point at a set of tracks a few dozen meters away. ”Just follow them to the east until you hit a Y-junction, then go right, should be a straight shot to Ponyville from there.”

“My gratitude, pony, but I must go. The Founder awaits my return.” Flynn proceeded to leave through the door he came in from.

As Flynn neared the entrance, he could hear Braeburn call out to him. “Come back soon! There's always plenty to do in Appleloosa!”

Braeburn paced up to the stool Flynn was sitting at and got on it. Well that was peculiar. He thought, Oh well, you never know who you're gonna meet out here on the frontier. Braeburn had little reason to be too surprised by the visitor. While ponies had known about dragons and griffons for as long as recorded history goes, most of the planet they lived on was unexplored, and it was not unheard of for explorers from distant lands to show up every now and then.

The bartender placed a plate of food onto the counter in front of Braeburn with his. “Here you go, Braburn. Desert fruit salad sandwich with sun-dried hay on the side, the usual.” The bartender said in a gravelly tone.

“Thanks, Barleycorn.” Braeburn accepted, his voice suggested he was not paying full attention. Barleycorn grunted an Mhmm and went to the back of the saloon to fetch the last barrel of cider.

Wonder where that fella's from, Braeburn returned to his thoughts, munching on a strand of hay in the process. Celestia's sun probably don't shine there too often, he sure didn't seem too civilized. He swallowed the last of his piece of hay and put a new piece in his mouth. And what the hay is a 'wolf clan', isn't that what Trots say when referin' to their families? That'd mean he was raised by wolves or somethin', heh, probably explain his manners.

Out of all the traits about the... thing, the way he just apologized so quickly to Braeburn and quoted some poem was the most unsettling. He looked so eager to start a fight, then he just changed his mind without a second thought. It just didn't make any sense, he's insultin' us one minute and asking to be punished the next? Good thing he did change his mind though. That's the last time me and the colts try intimidatin' somepony out of town that's for sure. We'd all be in big trouble if he called mah bluff.

Braeburn grabbed his sandwich with both hooves, reached up and took a small bite. His taste buds danced about in his oral cavity from the tangy stimulus.Sure beats the carrots back in his old home, still can't believe it's all we had for month once... With another bite in his maw and old memories flowing back, his encounter with Flynn was cast aside.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“There's that thumpin' sound again,” Braeburn put his sandwich down on his weakly rattling plate and listened, the other ponies in the saloon noticed the sound too and tried to locate it before quickly ignoring it and returning to their business.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It's gettin' louder, closer, like it's just outside the town, near the train tracks. Braeburn pondered on what it could be, Maybe it's Flynn on some kind of ridin' animal, a big one. It'd make sense, it started low and got louder for a while, then it stopped when Flynn walked in, and now it's back louder than ever. Braeburn got off the stool, leaving his food half-eaten and returned to the window. Wonder what it looks like.

Braeburn peered out the window to see a massive, bipedal titan of steel jog past, hugging the train track as it went. It had roughly the same shape as Flynn, minus a head, its arms were raised in the air at a forty-five degree angle with the forearms pointed forward. The last detail that he could make out before it ran out of view was the picture of a red wolf on the side.

“Oh buck...” Braeburn dashed behind to the counter and tore out a blank piece of paper from a notepad used for records keeping. “I gotta tell AJ he's comin' before he starts a panic.” He snatched a pencil with his mouth and hastily wrote a letter:

AJ,

Not much time to explain. Giant metal thing headed for Ponyville, has someone inside it. He wants to meet your new friend for help. Show him around Ponyville, but make sure he doesn't make a scene.

Braeburn

Braeburn rolled up the impromptu letter and tied it shut with a loose string of fabric on his vest. Now Ah just need to send it. He ran out the saloon and scanned the town. He quickly looked at the post office before turning elsewhere. Post office would take too long. He then observed a lever cart, and too looked elsewhere. Not fast enough. When Braeburn turned around, he saw just who he needed.

A pegasus colt with a coat blue as the sky walked out town hall, though that didn't tell Braeburn anything about him on its own, his blasted-back indigo mane gave him away.

“Soarin!” Breaburn dashed up to the pegasus, who turned to the sound of the voice calling him.

“Am I really that easy to spot out of uniform? Soarin asked, having a look of concern and slight embarrassment on his face.

“Doesn't matter, Ah need you to send this letter to mah cousin Apple-”

“Hold on there, buddy.” Soarin waved his front hooves in a slow down gesture. “I'm not a mailpony, and I'm on vacation.”

“Didn't you see that thing run by?!” Braeburn shouted, shaking in place out of urgency. “I'll pay you to deliver the letter!”

“What kind of payment?”

“A new pet chicke-”

“No chickens!” Soarin shrunk back, shaking his head in terror.

“How about an apple pie?!”

“Well, I do like pie,” Soarin scratched his chin, “Still, Ponyville is pretty fa-”

“An apple pie and a whole barrel of cider! JUST GO!”

“Okay, okay!” Soarin conceded, “Just have it ready when I get back.” He took the letter, put it in his mouth and took off into the air.

Braeburn slumped to the ground and took a deep breath. Though he was relieved that now he may have just prevented Flynn from terrorizing Ponyville, he only finished the easy part. Now he needed to convince Barleycorn and the whole town why having to go without cider until their first harvesting season was worth it. He knew he would have an easier time talking with the buffalo.

On an unrelated note, Soarin was scared of chickens, who knew?

Chapter 3: Blinded With Science

Star Commander Morton leaned on the one bare wall of the communications center inside the base. The rest of the interior was coated in large terminals, monitors or windows leading to the outside. The MechWarrior was about to be subjected to a series of questions regarding the 'incident' a few hours ago.

So far, the only other people accompanying him were the Quartermaster and lead Technician of the base.

The Quartermaster was practically a living mountain of muscle and black fur, Morton assumed the cause of the monstrous physique was from years of hard physical work and heavy lifting. The Quartermaster may have been a freeborn, but the Star Commander honestly thought that the man would have a slight edge in a hypothetical fight between the two.

The Technician was also well built, not as profoundly as the Quartermaster but definitely a rival to Morton. That was probably because the Technician was trueborn and at one point a MechWarrior himself. An aging one at that - the Technician had to be in his mid thirties. Morton guessed that the Tech failed a Trial of Position late in his career and was demoted to the Technician caste, otherwise he would almost certainly be in a Solahma unit by now. Or perhaps it was because he was taken as a bondsman.

Morton was curious about the fate of the Technician, and all he needed to do was ask to find out the answer. However, neither side said a word to the other for there was little real reason to - the Technician Caste knew its lower but essential place in society was to be subservient to the Warrior Caste, and as such interaction between each other was strictly business for most intents and purposes.

Knowing he should not leave the room until the scientist arrived and finished their questions, Morton decided to allow his memories to manifest. He began to picture the icy landscape of the planet Dawn in the Inner Sphere, as his Star was ambushed by KungsArmee troops of the Free Rasalhague Republic.

He remembered most vividly the azure gusts of snow that danced upon the cockpit of his Mad Dog glow green and orange as he fired off his Medium Pulse Lasers and SRMs, the Cataphract that opposed him being hardly a challenge. He was not a poet, but he knew that given enough time he could have written several pages worth about the frost on the windows symbolically meaning the grip of his loyalty to the Clan; or the reactor's heat fighting the cold air in the interior representing the conflict of reigniting the fire of the Star League in the chilled cores of the Inner Spheroids.

But he did not join in Operation Revival to find a muse for poetry, he went to bring enlightenment of Kerensky's true vision to the oppressed masses, and swat aside anyone who stood in the way. He even went on to participate in the Battle of Tukayyid, the Trial of Possession that would determine the fate of Terra. Sadly, despite giving his all, and though his Clan defeated the ComGuards decisively, the Clans as a whole lost the battle and were forced into a fifteen year ceasefire. The years passed, and Morton was eventually considered too old to serve in the front line Clusters. Knowing that he would likely never live to see the day when the invasion resumed as a Solahma, he opted to becoming an instructor so that he could help ensure the next generation could accomplish what he would not.

Morton caught himself in realization that just earlier today he called out the Cadet for daydreaming, and now he was doing the same thing. After quickly comparing the circumstances involved, he found no meaningful hypocrisy to be had - not that he would really care anyway - and continued sifting through his memories.

Scientist Derek double-checked his beige hazmat suit for the third time in what he assumed was ten minutes. He was a K-F physicist that had been called in from another side of the planet due to his advanced understanding in the subject. He personally did not know why he was being summoned to an out of the way training facility hundreds of kilometers from the nearest major settlement, but considering the unwillingness of the Aerospace pilot in telling him, he was once again on a need to know basis.

Being a member of the Scientist Caste had its benefits. For one, scientists literally held the future of the Clans in their hands. It was they who were responsible for ensuring that the genes of the original 800 warriors were carefully maintained so that the next generation could be born without difficulties.

Unlike traditional reproduction, the majority of Clan warriors were conceived and bred in artificial wombs. Allowing the genetically enhanced offspring, or 'trueborns' to be produced in groups of twenty in the time it would take to produce one (freeborn) child naturally.

Another perk of the Scientist Caste was the general freedom bestowed in comparison to the lesser Castes, and arguably even the Warrior Caste. Only the most oppressive Clans would meddle with a scientist's work intentionally, and Clan Wolf was not one of them.

But Derek knew all of this, and reminding himself would do little to change the level of insight he had. He looked at the pilot sitting in the cockpit seat in front of him through the narrow viewing space his suit allowed. The pilot was a small, almost grotesquely slender figure, he could not see the pilot's eyes, but he knew they were spaced out much more than normal.

Derek had always thought Aerospace phenotypes were unsettling, Elementals were just tall and muscly while MechWarriors were also that to a lesser degree. The woman flying the Vandal fighter, however, frankly looked too much like an alien for his comfort.

With no clue as to why he is being transferred other than needing a hazmat suit; Derek assumed a malfunction had just occurred on a drive which resulted in a radiation leak and he was apparently going to help figure out why and take notes in the process. What did not make sense was that there were no reports of anything extraordinary occurring. Sure, if the situation was worrisome enough the Warriors would suppress the media response so as to not upset the lesser castes, but what he was referring to was that none of the researchers, the seismologists, the people he knew who would be the first to know this kind of stuff were totally ignorant.

The only thing Derek could hope for was wait for the Vandal to reach the base soon, it was cramped inside the cockpit and even more cramped inside the suit. He was not claustrophobic, but that did not mean he did not want to get out and stretch his legs for the first time in two hours, if only for but a moment.

“We are nearing the destination, ETA two minutes.” The Aerospace pilot flatly announced, not even a trace of vested interest was in her words.

“While am I disappointed that I never received my mid-flight movie, I suppose I should still give a tip.” Derek was treading on thin ice by humoring his pilot in such a way, but luckily she played along.

“Thank you for flying with the 20th Crimson Support Cluster, we hope you enjoyed your flight.” The pilot replied. Derek was genuinely surprised, his previous experience with trueborn warriors had imprinted the stereotype that they lacked a sense of humor - or at least only shared it among themselves.

Then again, perhaps it was this lack of conformity that brought her current position in the planetary garrison instead of something more prestigious. Whatever the reason, he ultimately could care less about her life story. He had more important things to get ready to think about.

Derek felt the fighter craft gradually slow and descend as he began to grow anxious to get out of the compact interior. He tried to look at what was visible at the front of the plane, but was only able to detect a moderately sized crater and what appeared to be the base still a few kilometers away. Moments later he shook lightly when the Vandal touched the ground and continued its deceleration until the craft finally arrested near some kind of firing range. Dozens of lime green orbs with protruding scarlet spikes hovered off the ground, fluttering about in a set pattern close by.

The canopy of the Vandal hissed and slid back, exposing the two inhabitants to the outside world. Derek crawled up and prepared to leap to the ground, only to be stopped by the pilot after the mention of a ladder being sent to the craft. Sure enough a pair of technicians moved toward the Vandal, carrying a simple twelve foot step ladder over their backs.

Once on the ground, Derek wasted no time in getting inside the base. No effort of a security clearance check beyond showing an I.D. was made as the scientist hastily scouted the halls.

Reaching his destination, the communications hub, Derek stepped through and was greeted by the Quartermaster with a terse 'greetings', the other two simply nodded in acknowledgment.

“Alright, would one of you explain to me why I have been summoned?” Derek asked to all three, but focused on the lead Technician.

“In response to the recent... anomaly, you have been called to investigate into it.” The Technician, who's I.D. designated him as Pytor, answered.

“Okay...” Derek held up his enveloped hand to the location of his chin to simulate the action of being in deep thought. “Where should I begin?”

“I suggest inquiring Morton first, he is our best witness to the event.” The Quartermaster lifted his arm and pointed a furry digit at the MechWarrior.

“Today started off like any ordinary day - I was going to send a Cadet to fight a drone 'Mech so he could cut his teeth.” Morton stood up straight and let his arms relax to his sides. “On the way to the designated rendezvous point, the Cadet inexplicably dashed off in another direction, towards a set of mock buildings used for inspection training.

“I ordered him to correct his course, but he refused and continued to the inspection grounds. After requesting for further instructions on what to do, I received an order from Star Captain Christian to fire upon the Cadet if he failed to heed a warning to stand down and prepare for a Trial of Grievance.

“When he did not relent, I fired a salvo of two LRM-20s upon the Cadet, who managed to duck behind a building in time to evade the missiles.”

“With all due respect, Star Commander, how does this relate to the supposed phenomenon here? Particularly the crater near the base?” Derek interrupted Morton when the latter paused. While it was unusual for a Cadet to behave in such a way, how did that have to do with a giant hole in the ground? There was certainly no way LRMs could be the culprit, not even - no, definitely not even - a 'Mech's reactor going critical could do that much damage.

“When the LRMs hit the structure, it began to surge lightning from it.” Technician Pytor answered.

Derek raised his eyebrows in intrigue, not that his companions could see.

“The structure began giving off a strong amount of energy, similar - and then quickly exceeding - in scale to that of a K-F drive in action. We do not know how or why, but the result was a blindingly bright explosion that shattered the exterior windows of the base. When the light faded, all that was left of the training grounds was the crater. There were no radiation signatures, nothing significant on thermals, it is as if the course and the area immediately surrounding it just vanished from the universe.”

Derek stood there frozen in disbelief, he had spent most of his life studying K-F physics and he was totally unprepared for this. It was totally possible for a drive to malfunction, with results ranging from the drive simply quitting to the JumpShip using it ending up in a different star system - sometimes inside the star itself. It was also known that a JumpShip could simply disappear after jumping, never to be seen again.

The problem was that K-F drives could only be used in certain areas of space where gravity was sufficiently canceled out by two celestial bodies. Yet if what he heard so far was true, that a drive had been successfully activated on a planet's surface; just about every practical everything he knew about the topic had been spat in his face.

Derek shook himself lightly and continued eliciting answers. “Was there anything notable in the mock structures?”

“Neg, other than a small transponder inside each building, nothing should have been inside.” The Quartermaster spoke up, scratching his burly right bicep.

“And the purpose of these transponders were?”

“Each transponder was programmed to create an identification signal. For example, grain would be one of the readings of an inspected building, even though there is no actual grain inside.”

Derek nodded, “What was the signal that the building the Cadet hid behind emitted?”

“Hardware,” Pytor added in, the other three in the room turned to him with varying levels of attention. “The building was listed as containing nonspecific hardware, but as Ignatius already mentioned the probability of anything actually being in there that should not have been is microscopic.”

The scientist directed his attention towards a radar terminal then back at Pytor. “Who else detected this signal?”

“Almost no-one,” Quartermaster Ignatius grunted.

“According to our nearest patrol located five kilometers away from the event, they briefly reported a very weak energy reading from the direction of the base. Our second patrol, located fifteen kilometers away noticed nothing out of the ordinary when asked to report in.” Morton added, tapping his fingers against his side.

“So, the energy spike was intense enough to break virtually every record regarding energy output but not potent enough to be spotted by someone more than five or six kilometers away? Granted, the sensors on a 'Mech are not as powerful as ones that would be found on say, this base, but you seem to be implying that nobody has detected this outside this facility. Quiaff?”

Pytor nodded affirmatively, he did not need to say more at the moment.

Derek shut his eyes tightly and thought of what next to do. This is not leading anywhere, but they expect me to know the answer to something that just cannot be explained at the moment. It is just so statistically improbable that... He reopened his eyes and examined the room once more, finding nothing of note that he did not spot before. I need to tell them that there is simply not much I can do right now. I do not have the necessary equipment, and nobody here is presenting a solid foundation to go on in their answers. Closing his eyes once more, a wave of tingly feelings washed over much of his upper body, akin to developing a case of goosebumps. Derek was not anxious, because if anything he found the feeling soothing. I need a rest to clear my thoughts, I suppose sitting in an Aerospace fighter for two hours with nothing to do is more draining than I first thought.

And so he did. As he concluded his apologies for having to cut the questioning session short, Derek asked for somewhere to rest. Ignatius led the scientist down the hall towards an elevator, the two took it down the subterranean levels of the base. From there it was a matter of going around a corner or two before reaching a barracks.

“You have two hours,” Ignatius grumbled and abruptly shut the door behind him.

Derek sighed and began removing his hazmat suit, when he was finished he was only in a fairly loose silver bodysuit, otherwise known as a pair of satin pajamas. NBC apparel was uncomfortable to wear as it is, and Derek saw to it that wearing it did not have be an overly unpleasant experience. It is not like standard lab attire would make me any safer from radiation should my suit fail, he reasoned to himself.

The scientist pulled out a small datapad from a sealed pocket in the suit, sent and read some messages, set its timer application to one hour and forty-five minutes (he neared the fifteen minute mark by the time his errands were done), and placed it on the upper bunk of the bed he was going to use.

With no further matters to attend to at the moment he crawled into the bottom bunk, his last thoughts before quickly drifting into dreamland went along the lines of: I can make some sense out of all this mess. I just hope this is all worth the hassle when I do.

Chapter 4: Wolf on the Border

As the Firemoth charged down the seemingly endless train tracks, Flynn had become bored out of his mind. He switched his objectives screen on, completely blank aside from the time. It had been nearly half an hour since he spoke with Braeburn and it had been only a minute ago that he went to right at the Y-junction.

The Cadet looked to his left to see the other track slowly shrink into the distance behind him. Perhaps that railroad leads to 'Canterlot', whatever that is. He thought, turning his attention back to the front of him.

It was there, in that long journey down the tracks, that Flynn discovered his newest talent. It was not an easy one to attain, but the Cadet had easily mastered the art of simultaneously being alert as a fox yet bored out of his mind just enough for the experience to be agonizing.

He needed to destroy something - or at least do some target practice. That way he could hopefully be content long enough to reach Ponyville all the while sharpening his skills. However, he could not just fire his lasers at the ground and make a streak of scorched earth - it was too sacrilegious to harm holy Terra in such a careless manner. He also could not blow up an isolated homestead that he had stumbled across just then, even though it seemed long abandoned.

I am being careless, only the Founder knows what he has set in store for me next. Maybe there is a cowardly ambush up ahead, one that if I am not prepared for could shred me into... Flynn spaced out, after running into a deep philosophical question for the second time. What happens if I get 'killed' again here? Do I just wake up where I fell hours later, or somewhere else or do I just 'disappear' or- “I really need to stop overthinking this all.” He said aloud.

Not long after the Cadet stopped himself, the ground changed from golden sand to emerald grass up ahead. The transition was not subtle, it was as though someone had drawn an invisible line and told the grassland and the desert not to cross their sides. Whoever made this line did not account for a twenty ton war machine to rush past it, and part of the vegetation was torn up from the ground when the Firemoth lifted its leg for the first few steps.

Flynn twisted the Mech's torso to the left, then to the right. He was in a moderately sized valley, the trees were scattered into small clusters, too sparse to be used as cover by a 'Mech. The birds inside flitted away in terror from the sound of his stomping. He scanned the terrain until something caught his eye. Is that a castle? Flynn wondered, in the far-off distance a tall but narrow fortress sat on the side of an insanely steep mountain. An old fortress at that. With only a simple turn of a dial a camera zoomed in for Flynn to see better, the ivory walls were made of stone, the roofs cone-shaped and brightly colored banners waved on the walls, the symbols on it still too distant for the Flynn to identify.

“That must be Canterlot,” The Cadet said aloud, retracting the zoom feature by reversing the dial. As he did so, a new structure appeared in his vision. In this case a clock tower peaking just over head a small hill.

The Firemoth slowed its course and paced up the hill, revealing more of the tower and an entire settlement around it. It was a medium sized town, but like Appleloosa, seemed to be stuck in the distant past. The appearance of the houses, the shops and virtually everything else implied that even basic metallurgy was still an emerging concept. The town was still a few kilometers away, but reaching it would not be difficult and he knew everything he needed from the observation.

“That must be Ponyville.”

Applejack made a quick sigh as she walked with her brother Big Mac through downtown Ponyville. The sun shined brilliantly as it neared the position in the sky signaling high noon. The many ponies in the town going about their routines.

Except Big Mac did not want to do that.

“Come on, why ya gotta be so stubborn?” The orange pony glared at her defiant brother, at the rate he was going she might have to start dragging him soon.

“Ah ain't goin' to the doctor again,” Big Mac furrowed his brow back at Applejack, trying to appear as stern as he could.

“For cryin' out loud, ya just need two more rounds of physical therapy and you can stop.”

“Ah don't need 'em.”

Applejack groaned, “Ya shouldn't have gotten yourself hurt before Applebuck Season then!” Big Mac was not known to be stubborn - at least not as stubborn as herself tended to be - but for some reason she just could not figure out, the colt did not like going to the doctor, no matter how serious the reason. Even when he injured his foreleg weeks before he insisted on using a pillowcase as a makeshift brace instead of gauze. When the Apple family finally did get Big Mac to the physician, Nurse Redheart recommended two weeks of physical therapy to help him recover after everything she could do was done.

Money, or lack thereof, was not the reason for his unwillingness to go. Sure, Granny Smith could have used a new hip, and Applejack intended to pay for it with the profit she would earn at the Gala sometime down the road, but that was beside the point.

It would have been easy to put it down as a phobia, but he did not break into cold sweats at the mention of needles or anything that implied standard 'doctor business,' as Applejack put it. Once he was inside the office, he would turn semi-cooperative: enough to do as the nurse told, but in a state of unpleasantness during every second of it. In a way, simply getting him to the physician was harder for the two than actually being there, if only by a sliver.

Big Mac stopped walking, his demeanor adamant as ever. His sister slowed and glared back. “Do Ah need to drag you? Again?”

“Nope,” Replied the colt, shutting his eyes and pointing his nose upward in a show of tenaciousness.

The orange pony gritted her teeth, leaned low to the ground and prepared to reach for the yoke that her brother loved to wear. Big Mac still had his eyes closed as far as she could tell, as long as she was quick enough he would not be able to react in time. Her plan was simple enough, snatch the yoke from him and hold it hostage until he gave in. On three, she thought, having crouched to the ideal pouncing level.

One...

Two...

“Are you Applejack?”

The farmer pony lost her concentration and jolted up, almost leaping into the air in surprise. She cocked her head to the source of the voice, a sky-blue pegasus hovered inches off the ground. It was not her friend Rainbow Dash, but rather a colt with a scroll dangling from his mouth. She nodded her head. Uh-huh.

“Message for you.” The colt placed the letter in his hoof and handed it over, as soon as Applejack clutched it the pegasus soared off into the Western sky. However, before she had the chance to untie the string holding it shut, Big Mac seized the opportunity to run in the opposite direction like a startled goat.

“Get back here, Big Mac!” Applejack yelled, biting the letter between her teeth and giving chase. The particular streets of Ponyville that the two dashed through were mostly empty, but both brother and sister had to occasionally weave around somepony in the way.

Despite Applejack's athleticism, Big Mac had the benefit of emotion-induced adrenaline powering him. Because of this, the red colt moved at a pace oh-so-slightly faster than his sister's - enough to stay within her sight for a while, but not enough for a sudden catch-up sprint to be effective.

The buildings and houses soon gave way to apple trees as the two raced into Sweet Apple Acres. Really? Applejack thought, switching to a slower, more rhythmic gallop to save energy. Big Mac meanwhile made a sharp turn to the left after passing a tree, nearly losing his balance in the process. He's doin' it again. He's goin' to run straight home and hide under his bed until Ah go away, or he gets hungry. Then when he does get hungry, he's gonna to assume we forgot all about the doctor and be normal old Big McIntosh. Having long since memorized the layout of the orchard, Applejack easily slalomed through the trees. Knowing how things were likely to go down, she refocused her attention to concentrate on her memory and thought back to how she got him to get into town in the first place.

It was happening just like last time, exactly like last time. She first started off easy by asking him to go for a walk, which Big Mac did not really question - he liked the exercise. It was when she gradually guided him into Ponyville proper that he would raise the question. “Am I goin' to the doctor?”

The mere uttering of that query was where things fell apart. Applejack was anything but a liar - she was the Element of Honesty for a reason. Because of this fact, she was obligated by her very nature to answer 'yes'. In retrospect, it was not the most cunning of plots, but Applejack did not want to spend too much time bogged down by trying to figure out how all the minutiae would kick in, unlike her friend Rarity.

Ah might have to convince Nurse Redheart to reconsider making house visi-

WHAM!

Applejack placed her hoof to her forehead and rubbed it tenderly, she did not remember what had just happened, but she knew it made her look very foolish. When she opened her eyes, the side of a metal silo encompassed her vision.

“That is your sibling. Kwee-aff?” An unfamiliar voice said.

“Eeyup,” Another voice, Big Mac's, replied.

“What are you blabbering abo-” Applejack turned her head to the source of the talking, but frankly, she just did not believe her eyes. A bipedal animal, kind of like a tall, hairless monkey stared back at her.

“I am Cadet Flynn of the Wolf Clan, identify yourself and your role in the Laborer Caste.” The monkey said, in a tone that came off as impassive but could almost be construed as condescending.

The hay is he talkin' about, Applejack thought, ignoring the throbbing pain in her forehead long enough to think of a response. “Uhh, Ah'm Applejack, and this is mah brother Big Mac,” she pointed to her brother, who matched Flynn's blank expression. “And, uh, we're both farmers that harvest and sell apples.” Applejack felt somewhat disappointed in herself, she could and should have handled that introduction better. She should have shown more pride, added more 'oomph' - for want of a better word - to her speech. She had one chance at a first impression, and it was a weak one.

Then again, showing off one's hard work was usually not considered a priority when one's head hurt.

“Are you the relative of the Laborer, Braeburn?” Flynn asked.

“Braeburn sent ya?” The orange pony inquired, the monkey nodding affirmatively. That quick mention that was all that was needed for her to check the letter. Unfurling the note, sure enough the letter hastily mentioned someone heading for Ponyville, with the implication that he wanted to see her new friend, Twilight Sparkle. What Braeburn meant by 'giant metal thing' was not clear until Applejack made a double-take of the 'silo' she just hit. A simple glance upwards revealed the silo to actually be a leg belonging to some weird-looking statue, causing the mare to gaze wide-eyed. “Nice statue,” she muttered, too entrenched in a state of disbelief to even question what it was doing in the middle of her orchard.

Ah am just not thinkin' at all today it seems like. She pressed her hoof against her forehead, both to assert her lack of foresight and to help fight off the pain. Ah can't believe I ran into that thing.

Flynn meanwhile, could not have cared less. The horse in front of him was visibly ashamed of something, not to mention in agony. The reason of the anguish did not directly affect him, and he clearly saw her absentmindedly run into the left leg of his 'Mech, so he opted not to put any more thought into either. “Your associate is a record keeper, and you will lead me to her so that I may continue my journey. Quiaff?”

“You mean Twilight? Yeah, she runs the library around here.” The orange pony pointed her head off in the general direction of town. “But before we head off, this letter from Braeburn says Ah'm supposed to give you a tour of Ponyville.” She bit the top of the paper and held it out for him to see.

Flynn snagged the letter from the pony's maw and read it to himself. The clear haste of its penning shown in sloppy handwriting and rushed body. That was all he could make out of it, however. The message was so illegible that he could not understand what it said whatsoever.

And why would I have to go on a tour when the horse could easily escort me to where I needed to go? He thought, he had the right as a warrior to demand a direct trip to 'Twilight' if he wanted it. Then again, there is potential value in familiarizing myself with the locals. They are more... 'modern' is too strong a word, less primitive than Appleloosa, if not by much.

“I will accompany you around your settlement. You may lead the way.” The MechWarrior deadpanned, observing the pony's pleased reaction.

“Okay, sugarcube, let's go!” Applejack turned around and began a slow canter back towards town, Flynn following with a fast walk. “First stop is the doctor's office, where mah brother needs to make a little visit.” Applejack shifted her head to face the MechWarrior, only to stop half-way upon seeing Big Mac quickly closing the gap between him, the monkey and herself and matching his pace beside her.

This of course made Applejack puzzled as to why he was so willing to go now, but a closer investigation revealed all she needed. Big Mac had the telltale look of fear in his eyes, he walked more hastily than needed, and he would occasionally catch Applejack looking at him and immediately facing forward again. Is he afraid of Flynn? She thought, making a quick glance at the monkey-like being through her peripheral vision.

Flynn too found the red colt's sudden terror confusing. He looked back to when he met him moments before to try and understand the pony's fear.

The Cadet gazed up at the trees in the orchard with intrigue. He had no clue what made for a well-cared-for crop, but if what he saw before at Appleloosa was any indication, this particular orchard made for a great rival. What really separated the two was that while this orchard was far larger than the first, the trees that made it up were smaller. As a result, the Firemoth towered over the farmland, easily visible to all.

Then again, subtlety was distasteful.

The farm buildings the inhabitants lived in was a few hundred meters away from his position, but he knew better than to make the civilians a target by parking his 'Mech there - even if they were only a bunch of talking horses. Under normal circumstances, he would have parked the Firemoth within the outer edges of the artificial forest. However, the orchard here was so vast that he would have to cross as much as a kilometer and a half of grove to get from the 'ideal' parking spot and the town.

Flynn was too suspicious to allow himself to be outside sprinting distance of his 'Mech in case something unexpected happened. And while he did not want to admit it, he felt... vulnerable outside his 'Mech. He was trained since early childhood to be a MechWarrior above all else, but to be exposed like this, out where the lowliest infantryman or even a disillusioned and especially bold civilian could harm him. He simply felt anxious almost beyond belief even if he did not easily show it in his outward expression and had little reason to be worried in the first place.

There was a word for this feeling of helplessness when dealing with a situation one was not skilled at: Powlessness.

After making another glance back at his 'Mech to check if it was secure, Flynn was about pace off to the barn when out of the corner of his eye did he see a horse charge towards him fifty meters. A small, red, panicked horse at that. The already on-edge Flynn tersely sunk low to the ground, ready and waiting for the ideal moment to tackle the equine head on. The colt seemed so oblivious to the world that it did not react initially to the MechWarrior's sudden sprint. If anything, the horse seemed to speed up out of desperation once it noticed him.

Flynn rushed by leaning forward to use his shoulders for more force, trying to emulate the blitzing style of 'American rules' football that Elementals loved to play. However, Flynn was not an Elemental. He was physically fit and well-toned, sure, but he lacked the gargantuan stature the infantrymen had. In addition, while the pony was little, it was definitely the equivalent of strong among its kind.

By the time the two were within ten meters of each other, it became clear that neither side was going to yield. At five their bodies tensed up in preparation for impact, each letting out a low grunt while the horse lowered its head to straighten it with its body. At collision, the colt rammed into Flynn's unprotected stomach, and instinctively shot its head up with enough force to flip the Cadet off the ground as it continued on.

Flynn yelped in shock and landed flat on his back, moaning from the abrupt, blunt pain he was in. It quickly dawned on him that he may have made a needlessly reckless decision by charging a horse dead on. Even if it was a smaller, less menacing by nature horse than the ones he was familiar with. Flynn took the opportunity to ask himself the question he should have beforehand: Why would I do this? The pony was fleeing from something like a coward, and the Cadet was just in the way. Embracing cowardice was shameful, but he had no obligation to get involved. He was provoked to act out of reflex, but it was not inherently the pony's fault either.

The Cadet rolled over and looked up to see that the colt staring back at him a couple feet away. “Sorry about that,” it said with the sound of remorse filming its words.

“You are forgiven,” Flynn replied as he proceeded to ignore his pain and stand up. The difference in height between the two was not as significant as the one between him and Braeburn. This pony was about half a foot taller than the first. Its coat and mane resembled the red and yellow found on Hell Horses, albeit brighter and darker respectively. Like Braeburn, the pony had green eyes and an apple symbol on its flank - this one of a green apple sliced in half, revealing the insides.“I am Cadet Flynn of Clan Wolf. I am seeking the pony named Applejack, do you know where I may find her?”

“She's mah sister,” The colt answered in a mellowed-out state, the complete opposite of how it acted only a minute before.

“Where is she-”

WHAM!

Both turned their attention to see an orange pony, this one a mare, recoil off the leg of Flynn's Firemoth. Its bright yellow mane and tail were fashioned into... ponytails via two oversized crimson beads. The horse wore a stetson hat much like its cousin and seemed to have 'freckles' on its face. Lastly, instead of Braeburn's single apple, of a triad of the fruit was on her flank.

The two swiftly walked up to the dazed equine. “That is your sibling. Quiaff?”Flynn asked rhetorically.

“Eeyup.”

Having assessed the situation, Flynn made one last check of his Firemoth and set his mind on the task at hand: To become acquainted with a town brightly odd-colored ponies in the hopes that it would help him locate the Founder. If one is going to forge their path, they need to know as much as they can about where they are going. Flynn bemused, recollecting a fitting quote he once heard, of when and where he could not remember.

“If a man does not know to what port he is sailing, no wind is favorable.”

Chapter 5: Wake Up Call

The three continued their trek across the orchard to the doctor's office. Big Mac, worried as ever had taken a small lead with Applejack close to his side. The farmer pony shifting her head to her brother to watch for any sign of another rout. Flynn, meanwhile walked on the opposite side of Big Mac, the three creating a tight wedge formation.

“Sorry, he's not like this usually,” Applejack spoke up as the group's course shifted to the right to move down the current column.

“I am sure he is not,” Flynn replied impassively, turning his head to notice a small street lined with colorful houses and shops beyond the apple trees.

Applejack was curious of this creature, he was nothing like the monkey he seemed to emulate. For one, he was sentient. Granted, there were a lot of sentient species in Equestria, but with the exceptions of dragons and griffons the majority of self-aware beings - such as ponies, minotaurs and to a lesser extent goats - were hooved. However, since dragons and griffons were originally from foreign lands, chances are the 'monkey' was too. She just needed to raise the question. “So Flynn, where ya from?”

“Circe,” came the reply.

The hay is Circe? That ain't a town Ah ever heard of. Applejack thought as she followed up her first question. “And where's that?”

“Sixteen hundred light-years from this place.”

This bit of information did not help either, but it was surprising to Applejack nonetheless. She had no idea what a 'light-year' was nor what it meant in distance, but if the inclusion of the word 'year' was any indication, Flynn had gone a long way to get here. “You traveled for sixteen years just to get here?”

“Neg, I am here because the Founder has brought me here,” Flynn corrected, mildly irritated.

“And who's 'The Founder'?” Applejack first thought was Princess Celestia, for she 'founded' Canterlot, and by extension modern-day Equestria. But that was a stretch at best and it was unlikely that Flynn was referring to her.

“Nicholas Kerensky - son of the Great Father Aleksandr Kerensky - is the Founder. He invented the Clans, whose purpose is to restore the Star League. Unfortunately, I perished from dezgra tactics and am unable to participate in Operation Revival when it would restart. However, I have been gifted the opportunity to explore Terra and meet the Founder personally.”

The orange pony just stared back at Flynn the whole time. “Uh, Flynn,” she briefly paused to think up the words to say. “Ah'm sorry but most of your speech flew over mah head.”

Flynn groaned to himself, finding the pony's ignorance grating. However, it was somewhat understandable. It was doubtful the populace in the Inner Sphere knew about the personal history of the Clans - not if the nobles in the Houses wanted their populace to stay loyal to their despotic regimes. Not to mention, she was a pony. A talking, orange pony that inhabited and apparently tended an apple orchard on Terra, but a pony nonetheless.

Still, her bold honesty was commendable. It at least meant that she understood the concept of honor. But it also brought another question that hanged at the back of his mind. What if this is not Terra? Flynn only held the question in his mind long enough to take note of the ludicrous shape of the mountain 'Canterlot' rested on before dismissing it. He had to be on Terra.

Applejack checked up on her brother, who was still trotting along faster than need be. He seemed to have calmed down a bit, as his rhythm was more relaxed. The pain of hitting the statue was only now strong enough to be noticed, which led her to her next question. “So, why is there a statue in the middle of our orchard?”

“That was not a statue, it was a BattleMech,” Flynn corrected.

“BattleMech?” Another word Applejack learned to say, and another word that Flynn seemed to assume knowing was a given. She was not sure what 'mech' was supposed to mean - possibly short for 'mechanical' given its metallic appearance - but the 'battle' part made her grit her teeth in concern. “What's that?”

“A BattleMech is an unmatched machine designed for combat purposes. BattleMechs weigh between twenty to one-hundred tons, and have speeds as fast as one hundred fifty kay-pee-aych. The only true counter to a BattleMech is a second one, for no other vehicle can match its combination of versatility, firepower, speed and armor.”

Flynn paused briefly to see if Applejack was following along, the mare nodded and her facial expressions implied so, with a little hint of shock for good measure. “So, you brought a war machine into the middle of mah orchard without tellin' anypony beforehand?” Applejack questioned incredulously.

“Aff, I needed to get close enough to the town that I would not have to walk so far when I have finished my business. I apologize for this, but once I know where to find Unity City, I will be on my way.” Flynn answered.

Applejack blinked. "Ah'll accept your apology this time, but don't think that means you can just go around walkin' on other ponies property just because ya got a fancy machine. Got it?"

"Aff," Flynn complied, he was by no means intimidated by the pony's attempt at sounding strict, but he would consider her request.

The farmer pony breathed deeply to calm down and continued the conversation. “So, you were saying about 'BattleMechs'?”

Flynn took that as a cue to continue. “There are hundreds of different BattleMech designs that have been made over the centuries, each having a role in which it is best utilized in. The BattleMech I have is a Firemoth, a light, twenty ton machine designed for reconnaissance and Elemental transport.”

Applejack widened her eyes and picked up the pace to slightly above her brother's, the other two slowly matched her new speed. The monkey's - probably should ask what exactly is he supposed to be soon, she thought - explanation helped her out. It still did not help her bruised pride after running into the Firemoth, but she decided that it would be best to let that go.

But while Flynn's answer helped, she still had a few new questions to ask in the wake of her insight. “So ya don't actually fight in it do you?”

“No, not really,” Flynn said, withholding his tongue for a moment as the trees gave way to a moderately worn cobblestone road lading inside the town. “If I issue or am issued a batchall, a challenge by another warrior, and they had a 'Mech of approximately equal weight. Then yes, I would fight once the bidding is bargained well and done.”

“So you don't pick fights just for the hay of it?” The orange earth pony checked her brother, and found his return to being his calm old self while she talked to Flynn. At the back of her mind, however, she knew that may not last.

“Of course not. Such carelessness is wasteful, and waste is frowned upon in my society.”

“Interestin',” the pony said with faint relief as the three passed a deserted intersection. Shops, empty stands and and restaurants of various kinds laid closed, or unattended. Where is everypony? This part of Ponyville's never this empty during lunch time - it's where all the restaurants are for cryin' out loud.

The Cadet opted to change the subject. “Your brother does not talk often.” Flynn stated the sentence as a fact instead of question.

“Not if Ah don't have to. Still don't want to go to the doctor though,” the colt replied, lazily rolling his head to his left. He then turned his attention to his sister. “Do Ah really have to?”

Applejack groaned, and gave her brother a stern, if slightly annoyed look straight in the eyes. “Ah told you this a dozen times before, Big Mac, yes ya have to go to the doctor.” She shook her head as if to point to the structure at the end of the street. It was a small, one story building with a red cross and... whatever that snake-staff-thing that's name was beyond all three on opposite sides of the glass door (caduceus), but otherwise near-indistinguishable to the other straw, medieval-style buildings around it. Despite being well-kept, the clinic was due to be closed down once the new, larger hospital outside town had finished construction. “If you end up aggravating your injury buckin' apples or somthin' else, you might have have to stay at the hospital all the way in Manehatten or somethin'. And you wouldn't want that to happen. Would you?”

Big Mac lowered his head in defeat without offering further resistance. He had to admit that a handful of two-hour visits once a day preferable to potentially an entire week or longer in the recovery ward. Both were undesirable to him, of course, but still.

“Well?”

Big Mac shook his head as they reached the front door. No.

“Thought so,” Applejack pushed open the door halfway with her foreleg, the colt sighed dejectedly and slowly but surely stepped through the glass door, closing it behind him. “Does this every time, you'd think he'd have realized this by now,” she said to Flynn, then peered through the window to see if her brother was actually checking in with the receptionist.

“Why does he despise seeking medical help, and why does he even need it in the first place?” The Cadet asked, scanning the street for anyone else. Still no-one in sight. Had they seen my 'Mech incoming and are hiding? No, probably some other reason, there is no sign of a rush.

“Well for your second question, it was Applebuck Season, and he hurt his foreleg warmin' up - he forgot to stretch first, Ah think. And for the first Ah don't really know. He just doesn't like the place is the best answer Ah can give. He doesn't talk about if Ah ask him, but it's not like the curses or doctors are cruel to him, they're some of the nicest ponies in town.” The mare shoulder shrugged at the last part.

“Where I am from, a Trial of Refusal would be declared when someone refused to accept another's demands. If your brother was victorious in this Trial, which is most commonly a fight between both parties, he would be allowed to not see the doctor. If he lost, he would be obligated to go under penalty of gaining dezgra status,” Flynn explained.

“That just sounds like he'd be worse for wear then,” Applejack pointed out, “Besides, fightin' him wouldn't solve anything, it'd probably just only make things worse.”

To a (former) member of the Warrior Caste, the idea that might did not make right was a foreign and ultimately faulty mindset. However, it was not the place for the lower castes to fight anyway. “The Trial does not have to be combat, it can be some other type of contest, such as a race.”

“Naw, that wouldn't be right either,” the orange pony shook her head. “We're tryin' to do what's best for him, letting him potentially get off the hook like that wouldn't be very responsible, now would it?”

Flynn could see the genuine concern in Applejack's eyes as she spoke and nodded. “So be it.”

“Anyway, might Ah ask what 'dezgra status' is supposed to mean? Is it some kinda insult?” Applejack inquired, trying to change the topic slightly.

“If a person or group is labeled dezgra, it means they have done something dishonorable in the eyes of the Clans. In my case, I was marked dezgra for insubordination.” Flynn's manner of speech grew bitter as he spoke. “Due to the circumstances involved, I was unable to justify myself. My 'Mech had been hijacked by an unknown third party. I was knocked unconscious when my 'Mech fell over and subsequently killed afterward.”

“Um, ya don't look dead to me,” Applejack prodded the Cadet's shin curiously with her foreleg. “You're pretty solid for a ghost.”

“Indeed, but you are also solid, as is your brother and every pony I have seen thus far.” Flynn's use of the words 'every pony' felt weird to say after hearing Applejack and Braeburn use them to refer to their kind, even if it was appropriate in the context currently used. “Therefore, spirits in the afterlife are solid.”

“But you're not dead, you're as alive as anythin' else around here,” Applejack reiterated. “Besides, that isn't very sound logic anyway.”

Flynn stood his ground. “All other explanations for my presence on Terra would make no sense. Now, may we go to Twilight so that I can be on my way?”

The orange pony thought about the question for a moment before giving an answer. “Well, it doesn't look like there's much goin' on in town anyway.” No sooner than Applejack finished her sentence did she notice two of her friends walking - hovering in one case - towards her.

“I'm tellin' ya, Rarity. I don't like that thing walking around AJ's farm like that,” Rainbow Dash said as the two trotted down another deserted street. Virtually everypony on the weather patrol had seen the beige, thirty-foot monster-robot-thing rush up the train tracks. It was nothing like they had seen, and already rumors that it was straight out of the Everfree Forest were spreading. As the thing got closer, many of the pegasi either hid behind clouds, descended to the ground or flew higher into the sky hoping it would not notice them. Rainbow did the latter.

“This has not been the first time a monster left the Forest and wandered around her farm, dearie,” Rarity countered. “And every time they eventually go back not long after without causing harm.”

“This is different though, this thing didn't even come from the direction of the Forest. Plus, I'm not talkin' about hanging around the edges near the woods. It actually walked up to her barn and then just stood there. Last thing I saw it do before I flew down here was a ladder coming out the back of it, but who knows what that could actually be.”

“Is that so?” Rarity raised a brow, skeptical at the notion the thing was a malicious beast when it had done nothing particularly threatening. “Perhaps the 'thing' is some kind of riding animal or even a machine belonging to someone. While that does not explain why it is at Applejack's home, I am sure we will find out soon enough. She most likely has met the rider by now. Until then, we should only worry about getting her to the premiere on time.”

"I don't think you're taking this as seriously as you should, Rarity.” Dash sighed, outstretched her wings and lifted herself a few feet off the ground. “But maybe you're right, but if that's true and there's someone controlling it, I say we keep an eye on 'em. Can't be too careful after last week, yanno?”

Rainbow Dash was referring to when Gilda, a griffon she knew for some time, visited Ponyville. At first Gilda and Rainbow had the time of their lives as friends reuniting after so long, but by the end of the visit the relationship turned sour when Gilda turned out to be a jerk to everypony behind Rainbow's back. Ultimately Gilda walked out, essentially calling her former friend and everyone else present lame and had not been seen or heard since. Good riddance.

“Innocent until proven otherwise, Rainbow Dash.” Rarity replied as the two reached the end of the street, both mares searched opposite sides of the intersection until Rainbow nudged the white unicorn to look to her right, finding Applejack talking with an unfamiliar being. Both proceeded to approach the two until they were noticed.

Flynn inspected the two newcomers, somewhat surprised by what they were. The feeling was mutual. Up until then he had only seen the 'normal' ponies - as normal as oddly shaped, brightly technicolor, talking ponies could get at least. If he knew his mythology well enough, the first one was a unicorn. It was a somewhat off-white mare with a long, well groomed, purple mane with a coiled tail of the same color. It seemed to wear eyeliner to compliment its almond-shaped blue eyes, while its horn seemed vestigial due to it being quite small and dull. The symbol on its flank were three diamonds shaped in rhombuses. What are they even supposed to mean? he pondered.

The second was an entirely different creature - a pegasus if he recalled. This one, also female, was a light blue, similar to a cloudless sky on a sunny day and had rose colored eyes. The wings it used to stay off the ground seemed too small to support the horse so easily in flight, yet there it was floating effortlessly. It had a cloud puff shooting a bolt of multicolored lightning for a symbol. However, the most striking feature of all was not the wings, nor the symbol, but its hair. The pony's shoulder-length mane was a literal rainbow, evenly striped in red, orange, yellow and so on in such a way that it would have been a pain to dye. It was practically the opposite of his short but thick black hair.

Simply having to consider the hair colors being a natural trait, on top of it being a no doubt sentient mythical creature coupled with another mythical creature was pushing Flynn more and more out of his comfort zone. The seed of doubt planted from questioning whether he was really on Terra was sprouting, but Flynn rejected it again, albeit with more difficulty than before. Much can happen in almost three hundred years.

Rainbow Dash felt two things upon seeing the creature standing by Applejack: unease, and a vague sense of deja vu. The former because of the unknowns the thing represented. Plus, it had brown, forward facing eyes - the latter detail being the trademark of a carnivore such as a manticore, or less derisively, a griffon or a minotaur. Not that I'm scared of those, she reassured herself without a shadow of doubt.

Indeed, more than anything it was the lack of trust with a hint of simple evolutionary instinct giving her unrest. That likely also justified the second feeling, she had a similar, albeit lesser bout of anxiousness upon seeing Gilda the week before after so long. It nailed the middle ground of being just strong enough to be noticed, but also too weak to influence her state of mind or actions. Just what the hay is that thing?

Meanwhile, Rarity had a similar disposition, but had a question not-entirely unlike her friend's. What on earth is he wearing? She asked herself, her eyes widening more in disgust than in curiosity. Is that... camouflage?

“There you are, Applejack, we've been lookin' for you for like a half-hour,” the blue pegasus spoke to Applejack, it made a quick glance at Flynn before returning its attention to the orange pony. “And who's that?” Suspicion lined its words as it spoke.

“I am Flynn,” The Cadet answered, now finding it unnecessary to state his rank and affiliation unless explicitly asked.

“Do forgive my friend, she is not always so... impolite.” The white unicorn apologized, its voice soft and polished. “This is Rainbow Dash,” it turned its head to the blue pony.

Rainbow Dash was quick to add to her introduction. “Fastest flyer in Ponyville,” she said with an aura of confidence.

“Indeed,”the white unicorn returned her attention to Flynn. “And I am Rarity, but you may address me as 'Miss Rarity'.”

“Are you the noble of this town, Miss Rarity?” Flynn asked, he thought it was a valid question considering that the unicorn looked, sounded, and somewhat acted like one. Then again, the fact that she did not insist on being called 'Countess', 'Lady', or a similar arbitrary title may have meant he was jumping to conclusions.

“Oh, no, I am not,” Rarity answered, blushing lightly. “I merely run the Carousel Boutique where I work as a seamstress.” Rarity was flattered by such a question, even if it was not true - yet. She was holding out for a hero that she would no doubt meet at the Gala, a prince to adore, wed and who would induct her into the royal family. For the time being however, she was just a dressmaker.

“And what are you supposed to be?” Flynn queried to Rainbow Dash as he crossed his arms, less than impressed by her claims. “What do you do here?”

“Me? Oh yanno, I just clear the sky of runaway clouds, make sure the weather is on time, that kinda thing.” Rainbow Dash smirked proudly, letting the words sink in for roughly a second before adding to them. “The difference is, I can do it faster than anypony else.”

Flynn might have have labeled the horse as arrogant and asked for a demonstration if he was not so caught up with the first part of her boast. “Did you just say that you control the weather?”

“Yeah, pegasi can change the weather, how do you not know that?” Rainbow replied, silently grunting in annoyance. “It's common knowledge.”

“He's not from around here, Rainbow,” Applejack pointed out, to which the blue pony responded with a 'no duh' expression. “He says he's from 'Circe', sixteen hundred 'light-years' away, wherever that is,” Applejack stood on her hind legs and made the approximation of air quotes where it was needed.

“She is right. Where I am from, we do not have talking horses, let alone ones with wings that can control the weather,” Flynn added, he contemplated pointing them the direction of where Circe would likely be, but felt it would be of little use. They would probably just think he was pointing to the sky for no reason.

“Anyway...” Rarity spoke up in an attempt to change the subject before things could potentially get out of control. “Applejack, the reason we were looking for you is because a caravan showed up in town not too long ago. Apparently the owner is a traveling showmare and wants to present to the crowd, hence the lack of activity around here.” The white unicorn rolled her head as if to point around her. “It is set to begin in a few minutes, and we would-”

Dash decided to simply cut to the chase.“You wanna go see it with us? Not like there's anything else to do in town right now anyway.”

“I'd like to, but I was going to go introduce Flynn to Twilight, it's kinda the whole point he's here.”

“Aff, just lead me to this Twilight so that I can get my questions answered and be on my way. You may then go back to whatever business you had.” This is a very odd afterlife, he thought. And yet, it is no doubt going to be even stranger as I go along. Is the afterlife supposed to be a joke, a long, complex prank that these horses are all in on? A joke where they trick me into believing this is Terra, yet create all sorts of anomalies to it just to mess with me?

While Flynn pondered over his circumstances, he half-heard the three ponies talking about how the 'showmare' was apparently overly boastful or something along those lines. He lacked the full story, and could care less about it. Frankly he needed to get away from these talking horses for a moment, but he had to keep going if he was to reach the Founder anytime soon. Almost on cue, new doubts as to whether Kerensky was even there rose, and swiftly Flynn denounced them, if for no other reason for his subconscious faith to retain hope for the better.

“Applejack, you may go with your friends to the spectacle. I will meanwhile reposition my 'Mech so that it is no longer so deep in your orchard,” while walking through the rows Flynn scanned the landscape somewhat, and he had found a more suitable location to park his Firemoth anyways. Particularly some older, taller trees he could potentially hide his 'Mech around. While he would probably be noticed by the town in doing such a task, he reasoned that it was only a matter of time before he was discovered if he was not already.

Applejack could tell by the Cadet's lack of eye contact, among other subtle aspects of body language that he had another reason why he wanted to go - a lie of omission. However, she put that aside for the time being. “Didn't you hear anythin' we said? If there's a show goin' on, Twilight's probably gonna be there. Then, you can meet her and ask your questions to her. It's a lot easier, don't ya think? And no, Ah don't want you stompin' around mah orchard more than you already have.”

She actually has a point, Flynn noticed, Still, I need time to process this. Up until now I could accept the oddities of the afterlife, but I will be overwhelmed if I do not stop to breathe. Flynn knew that if he was going to spend any significant amount of time here, and deep down he knew he was, he would have to adapt. It is what wolves do best after all: adapt. To the others, it seemed Flynn stared off into space, which was exactly what he was doing. Of course, things are different here, he reasoned. Had this been a war zone, or some other dire situation, adaption would come easily and without conscious thought. This... He weakly pointed his left hand at the three subconsciously. How could anyone anticipate this?

“Flynn, are you alright?” Rarity inquired, trying to break up the awkward silence. She could also tell by the look in Rainbow Dash's eyes all but outright saying to her 'I told you something's not right about him'.

“Aff,” Flynn replied almost immediately. Forget it, Flynn, running from this nonsense is beneath you. You should be ashamed for even thinking such freebirth thoughts. “How long will this show last? I do not want to be here longer than necessary.”

“It should only take a few minutes, but we must hurry if we are to avoid being late.” The white unicorn assured before cantering off, Applejack shrugged before following suite.

“Then let us go and I will not get upset, I-” Flynn stopped himself, trying to quote his instructor word-for-word may not be the best decision to make. “I have had a very eventful day so far and I am low on patience,” he said as he speed-walked after the two. Out of the corner of his eye, Rainbow Dash placed her hoof up to her own eyes and then pointed at Flynn in a 'I am watching you' gesture before forming up with her friends.

Not twenty minutes had passed since Derek had fallen asleep when the howling of sirens awakened him. He snapped to attention the best he could, but a lack of experience in such a situation meant his grogginess would not fade so easily. For a second, the pulsing red florescent lights tracing the edges of the ceiling provided the only light in the room. This quickly changed once the door to the room opened by itself, casting the lights from the hall in.

Derek could not think to his best ability, but he knew he needed to move. With a jerking motion he rolled off the bunk and landed on all fours. He stood up trying to reach for his datapad, but the low light and his own recklessness caused him to slam his hand into the underside of the top bunk. The scientist grunted more out of frustration than pain and snatched his datapad on the second try. Not even bothering to put his hazmat suit on, Derek rushed out of the door to see what was happening.

“Alert, incoming Jade Falcon forces have been detected. All non-combat personnel are to evacuate to the nearest vehicle bay immediately.” A commanding voice evenly said over the intercom, causing Derek to run faster down the hall. Other inhabitants of the best, mostly technicians or the occasional Solahma guardsman scrambled to where they needed to be. Thankfully Derek managed to stop just short of slamming into Quartermaster Ignatius in the process of watching the semi-chaotic show.

“We must go,” Ignatius stated, his huge hand completely wrapping around Derek's comparatively meager bicep as he nearly dragged the scientist off.

“What is happening here? Can I not get a good night's sleep for once?” Derek yelled over the sirens, sarcasm being his preferred way to 'keep the edge off' in stressful situations.

“Hostile Jade Falcon forces are on route to this base, we cannot stay here, therfor-”

Derek irritably cut the Quartermaster short, “I know that, you stravag! How can they be attacking when the Jade Falcons only have a small research enclave on this planet? And why would they strike here of all places?”

“While you were sleeping, scientist,” Ignatius started as the two rounded a corner which led to an emergency staircase leading both up and down. “Two Aerospace craft were detected on long range sensors approaching this facility. It is unknown what model or type they are, but their aye-eff-effs indicate they are Falcons. According to the Star Captain himself, the craft are currently not on an intercept vector, and may very well be actually going after some target of interest elsewhere. However, he is not taking any chances and wants us non-Warriors to get out of harms way. Other than that, I do not know. I was in fact sent to retrieve you and escort you to the vehicle bay.”

“Is our own fighter intercepting them?” Derek asked rhetorically, to which he was replied with a simple, almost casual nod.

“While I find you treating this all so calmly unsettling, what about the investigation? Surely you cannot expect me to just abandon it after you went through the trouble of dragging me from my lab on the other side of the planet. Quineg?” Derek tugged against the grip of the Quartermaster, signaling him to let go as Derek stood at the top of the steps.

Ignatius descended the first flight of stairs before turning to face Derek. “The Star Captain says that you can go up to the control center and back up all available files regarding the incident, which you can analyze at your own leisure.” The Quartermaster paused for a couple seconds, which the scientist interpreted as a not-so-subtle way of implying 'But wait, there is more!' “At the bottom of these steps is the vehicle hangar, and the estimated ETA for the Aerospace craft is eight minutes. If you fail to enter the wheeled APC within five minutes, it will leave without you.”

“Very well,” Derek muttered as he climbed the stairs the fastest he could, reasoning that the elevators had been disabled due to the alert status. The scientist briefly pondered transferring the files via a wireless signal but opted against. Downloading the files that way would take too long. The service here is downright pathetic, he noted as he climbed his second flight of stairs, with three more standing in his path. I will have to directly hook up to the terminal if I want to get out of here fast.

Derek was gasping for breath when he finally did reach the top. The door to the command center laid to his right, the elevator he took down at the opposite end of the hall. Wasting no time he jogged up to the door and banged on it asking for admittance - an unnecessary move, but it allowed him to illustrate how desperate he was. The door slid open and Derek swiftly entered the empty room, where he hastily hooked up his datapad to the mainframe via a cable adapter he fished out of his pocket. He could only assume the warriors were getting into their 'Mechs to try shooting down the fighters should their own fail.

The next two-to-three minutes composed of watching the progress bar of the transfer. The scientist needed to be thorough, and planned on backing up all data logs up from the previous week, files on all base personnel, inventory as well as other tidbits of information that he knew would be totally useless but was obligated to retrieve in the off chance that they did, in fact, have clues. Derek noted with intrigue that the Star Captain had allowed him access to everything, if for no other reason that Derek was expected to erase the archives when finished, which he did with all due haste.

Once he double-checked that he cleanly swept the databanks, Derek rushed out of the command center and down the flight of stairs. In some effort to descend the steps faster, he would leap from the fifth-from-bottom step, the only noticeable effect being that it made his feet hurt from having to absorb the shock. Had he more time, the scientist might have pondered that a base-wide evacuation in the response of just two Aerospace craft was excessive. However, he would rather be safe than sorry.

When the scientist ran out of steps to leap from, he knew he was at the bottom floor, of which could be described as cave-like. This level of the base was notably dimmer despite having the same relative number of lights as the others. Even the alarm had an echo, all the while sounding more distant than the above floors.

But Derek paid that no mind, he passed the door in front of him and ended up in a garage. Two vehicles inhabited the oil-scented room, both warmed up, grumbling and clearly ready to leave at a moment's notice. The first was a hovercraft of some model unknown to Derek equipped with what seemed to be an SRM launcher, which was totally useless against fast moving Aerospace craft. The second vehicle in front of the first was the one Derek cared about more. True enough to the Quartermaster's description it was a bulky, box-shaped armored personal carrier that used wheels for locomotion with a machine gun turret on top, also useless for combat.

As Derek rushed up to the driver side window, a thick metal door popped out slightly and slid to the side. Without delay the scientist climbed inside the fairly hot, cramped cabin and took a vacant seat next to the door. If one of the other occupants was keeping time for leaving, they counted down not long after. The APC lurched to a start and the weight of everyone inside shifted to their respective sides, indicating that vehicle was going up a ramp before resuming normal orientation.

The scientist was definitely the odd man out in the cabin, everyone else was either a tech or some other support personnel that could all conveniently fall under Laborer status. Igntatius and Pytor were present, and were also the only two that were not complete strangers. Derek looked at his datapad shortly, as though to acknowledge the significance of the data inside before looking back up at the others. With the sole exception of the Quartermaster, the group was definitely on-edge from the sudden evacuation. He could just feel it in the slowly thickening air.

Nearly a full minute passed before Derek spoke above the grumbles of the others. “Okay, I need to know. Just why are we all in an APC headed off to wherever?”

“Give it about another thirty seconds, and your question will be answered.” A tech from the rear of the cabin replied.

“I would prefer it if my question was answered now,” the scientist retorted.

“I assure you, you will find your answer most satisfying,” another tech said.

“Satisfying...” Derek muttered under his breath as he placed his hand under his chin, implying to the others that he was thinking about it. “Let me guess, the base is about to self-destruct. How would that be a good ide-”

Derek's sentence was cut off as he heard faint explosions behind him, of which he could barely hear over the engine. Making his own conjecture from the level of volume, it was likely only the critical areas of the facility were destroyed, in effect making it inoperable and worthless as a strategic target. Practical, if disappointing. Admittedly I was expecting a ground-shaking kaboom, Derek thought, to which he promptly told the others.

“The power plant should be on fire and all twelve Mechbays should be collapsing in on themselves, provided we did our work properly,” a third tech, this time a female, proudly mentioned.

Okay, maybe it was not just the vitals. “That still does not explain why that was necessary.”

“We received a personal message straight from Star Captain Christian himself passed down from the Galaxy Commander. A 'scorched earth' policy is in effect for several outlying Wolf training facilities on Circe, including this one,” the female tech added.

Derek blinked. “For two measly Falcon fighters? Is that not, oh, I do not know... disproportionate?”

“It is not just two fighters,” she continued. “Jade Falcon JumpShips are believed to have entered the system a few hours ago and may be carrying an invasion force to take our hold of the planet.”

“Has the situation really gone that sour?” Derek asked, finding the assertion uncomfortable, to say the least. Even more uncomfortable was the temperature of the cabin, there was no air conditioning and already he could see beads of sweat on the others as well as feel his own on his face.

Pytor, who had up until that moment kept to himself, proceeded to sit up and angrily educate the scientist on contemporary issues. “Have you not payed attention to the last few days, stravag?! When ilKhan Kerensky declared his Trial of Refusal, he did not bid a Star, nor a Cluster. He bid the entire Clan against the Falcons. Do you know what that means?” Pytor doubted the scientist knew the answer, and if he did he would not have asked such a question.

In the wake of the Truce of Tukayyid, the invading Clans were left with a problem. Because the truce was to expire in 3067 - fifteen years after being first implemented - as many as three generations of upcoming warriors had been deprived the opportunity of fighting for Terra. By the time the Invasion resumed, most of the veterans and incoming Cadets of the initial waves would be in at best Solahma units sent on suicide missions for what little scraps of glory thrown to them. Meanwhile, the Inner Sphere was on a slow technological recovery and fifteen years was precious breathing room for the Houses, especially the bordering Steiners and Kuritans to recover and face the Clans.

None of the Clans took the truce well, at least not their Crusader elements. Suspecting that their current ilKhan, Ulric Kerensky of the Wolves, had intentionally sabotaged the Invasion through underhanded means, charges of genocide were thrown at him in an attempt to elect a new pro-invasion ilKhan (ironically these charges originated from Crusaders within the Wolves themselves, who were predominantly anti-invasion Wardens). These charges, shocking as they were, were quickly disproved in the investigation.

Meanwhile, the Jade Falcons were secretly break the truce ten years early by covertly arming pirates with Clan-tech. When Ulric discovered this, he made a Trial of Refusal against the Falcons, who, because the Smoke Jaguars were bogged down by raids from both Nova Cat and House Kurita alike, and the Ghost Bears were on good terms with the Wolves, were the strongest Crusader Clan militarily and therefore the greatest threat.

At least, that was what Derek's casual observations implied. He did not have the time or interest to figure out the minutiae of Clan politics. “The Jade Falcons matched our bid?” he asked, wiping his head on his bicep.

“Exactly! Ulric Kerensky is literally throwing our entire Touman at them, and they are doing the same! The result is going to be an all-out war! A war that will likely only end when one side has completely destroyed the other, or probably, an opportunistic third Clan tries to get the Council's permission to absorb the leftovers like a carrion eater!” Pytor did not name names, but some of the more politically aware in the cabin seemed to have an idea of who he was talking about. Derek was not one of them. The technician sighed and leaned forward in his seat to try and calm down. “Chances are zellbrigen will be thrown out the window early on, and we may very well be in danger ourselves due to being targets of opportunity. But frankly, I am surprised it took this long for an invasion force to enter the system.”

“Maybe they were held up somewhere else?” a tech pointed out, “I cannot imagine all the fighting is going to take place in the Oh-Zees.”

“Maybe, but why try and take Circe? We have a much greater presence on Eden,” another said.

“Who knows what the warriors are up to,” a third added.

“So, if both sides are not going to pull punches like you say, Pytor. What is to stop those two fighter craft from just flying over and shooting us, assuming the 'Mechs fail to stop them?” Derek spoke up before the grumbles completely retook the cabin, finding the claims of the Head Technician as exaggerations.

“Let us hope that they do not,” Ignatius answered in his unnervingly tranquil tone.

Agreed, Derek thought. “I also need to ask, just where are we going again?”

“Well, the Star Captain said to relocate to some big firebase a few hundred clicks south, but he did not specify much else,” the female tech answered, wiping some sweat off her forehead due to the lack of air conditioning. “Problem with that is we do not have enough fuel to make it there in one go. Basically, we need to make a stop at Point Alpha before we can continue.”

“That is a Snow Raven town though, they might not want to get involved with our little feud. What with their own holdings being put Circe being in danger and all.”

“Unless you are volunteering to get out and push, we must try,” came the response, completely devoid of humor.

Derek did not comment further out of acceptance. He brought his datapad out of the sleep mode it entered and decided to best way pass the time was a few hands of solitaire. After a few minutes of playing, he realized something. It seems everyone just forgot about what happened today, he thought. Sure, a possible invasion is a little more immediate, but these guys do not seem even remotely shook up over the supposed incident. Then again, I have not asked them about it either. Derek shrugged and resumed his game.

He would no doubt have to figure out this mystery eventually, apparently on his own. There was obvious incentive to do so - something as strange as the supposed hyperspace anomaly was a one-in-a-lifetime occurrence. He doubted it would be easy, but to be able to figure out how it happened and why would give him great respect not just among his peers, but probably the entire Scientist Caste in the Clan. Yet, could not help but feel a bit sorry for the Cadet that perished, but Derek gave himself the benefit of the doubt and assumed that being instantly torn apart at the molecular level was a rather painless way to go.

For now, however, getting the ten of diamonds was his current priority.

And not being blown up by Jade Falcons, that too.

Author's Note

This chapter took too long to write...

I would like to apologize for the gap between this update and the last. While real-life events and working on another fic have diverted my attention somewhat, this was largely so because of my overall laziness (Discovering TVTropes did not help either). I am not proud of this and I shall not allow it to happen twice. Even with my Senior year of high school starting very soon, I will do my best to ensure an update at least on a monthly basis. I thank you for your patience if I left you hanging and if it is any consolation, I opted to merge chapter five with what would have been chapter six to offer more content. And to help clarify how I have this story planned out: for every two chapters about Flynn in Equestria, the third would center around scientist Derek trying to figure out how the Cadet got there in the first place. With this exception, I intend to stick to that for now.

Once again, if you have any questions, concerns and/or suggestions, please leave a comment and I will do what I can. At this point, I am more concerned about portraying the ponies decently than my knowledge of BattleTech lore (which I now believe is solid enough for the purposes of this fic, if it is not, let me know and I shall fix it).

Chapter 6: Lyran Affairs

The four made their way to the center of Ponyville, the three ponies still talking about the show while Flynn trailed behind, mostly out of earshot. The streets were still for the most part empty, but once or twice a distant pair of other ponies would be spotted walking towards the center of town from another road before being obscured by the houses.

“What is this show supposed to be about again?” Flynn asked to none of the three ponies in particular. He scarcely cared enough to remember the first time they talked about it, being too caught up in his own thoughts.

“The advertisements said that a 'Trixie the Magnificent' is coming to Ponyville,” Rarity answered. “Apparently she is a world-renown magician.”

“A world-renown magician that none of us ever heard of before,” Rainbow Dash added, drooping her eyelids.

“Performing arts then,” Flynn let out a groan in disappointment. “Surely you do not expect me to just wait while you watch a show when you can simply point me to Twilight and make things faster and easier?”

“Are ya under some kinda deadline for doin' what ya need to do?” Applejack asked, turning her head to look behind her.

“Neg,” he said. “To my knowledge I do not have any apparent time limit in meeting the Founder. However, I would rather not spend any more time here than needed.”

“We know, but that doesn't mean you can't stop and see the sights while you're in Ponyville just a little bit.” Applejack said before refocusing on the path in front of her. To her side, Rainbow Dash eyed her suspiciously, all but that maybe Applejack was being too trusting to the creature behind them. Rarity listened in, but tried not to get involved unless an argument broke out. “Besides, sugarcube, what's wrong with a magic show, other than the 'xaggerations?”

“Please do not call me 'sugarcube'. I am trying not to call you 'stravag'.”

Applejack did not need to know the word's full meaning to know it was derogatory. She furrowed her brow and said, ”We're tryin' to help ya, Flynn. Callin' us names isn't gonna get ya to 'the Founder' any quicker.”

“Neither is leading me to a waste of time like a performing arts show.” The three ponies seemed to ignore the retort and resumed their own chatter about the show soon after.

The town center itself was made fairly conspicuous in that the middle was a narrow, three-story tower, presumably the main administrative building. Even as the four were at the last intersection before the town center, it was clear a sizable number of residents were attending the big event.

I wonder how they can build all these houses without hands, Flynn thought as Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash and finally himself all passed under a catwalk with a heart symbol at the top of the arch. Then again, the surats at Appleloosa were able to grasp mugs and forks with their legs like they had magnets at the bottom of their feet.

Dozens of ponies gathered around one side of the tower, where a modestly-sized stagecoach was parked. Visually the stagecoach was an unremarkable yellow with a red roof and a sign fixed atop the door, which from the group's current position was barely noticeable. As they drew closer and moved counter-clockwise around the tower, the design revealed itself as a blue star-shaped wand waving an aura with stars around it.

Much like the populace of Appleloosa, the ponies in attendance paid little mind to Flynn's arrival as he sat down cross-legged at the back of the crowd, the other three choosing spots closer up front. The librarian pony may very well have been there as well, but at least for the laborers sake he would not disrupt the show by asking questions she may not even know off the top of her head - not that having to wait was preferable either. Occasionally he would catch one or two ponies making a second glance out of curiosity, only to quickly return their attention to the stagecoach once he spotted them in the act.

Not long after, the stagecoach suddenly unfolded into a small stage within the course of a few seconds. The idle chatter died down and everyone's eyes focused on the purple curtain. A light blue female pony with silvery-white hair wearing a purple cape and matching pointed hat speckled in stars emerged from the veil. A smile briefly appeared on her face as she observed the audience before she spoke.

“Come one, come all,” the pony shouted. “Come and witness the amazing magic of the Great and Powerful Trixie!” The crowd 'oohed' at her introduction, whereas Flynn rolled his eyes. Not ten seconds had passed and already he was bored. “Watch in awe as the Great and Powerful Trixie performs the most spectacular feats of magic ever witnessed by pony eyes!”

The pony stood on her hind legs and as soon as she finished her sentence, the air around the stage burst into splendorous multicolor explosions. Staged fireworks. The masses did not seem to care and raved the light show all the same.

As the last of the fireworks faded away, Flynn turned his attention to one of the ponies at the back of the crowd, primarily because it kept looking back at him more than the rest. It was obviously wondering who - or what - he was, but while it did not look necessarily shy or afraid, it seemed to be trying to build up the courage and speak to him. The MechWarrior raised his hand and gestured it to come to him, which it unhesitatingly did. Maybe that is Twilight, he thought.

Much like the majority of the crowd, the pony was female. More specifically a teal unicorn with whitish hair, yellowish-orange eyes and a stringed musical instrument for its symbol. “Can I help you?” Flynn asked in a somewhat bored tone.

“Sorry about staring at you,” it replied as it went to his left side and folded its legs to enter a restful position on the grass. “It's just that I haven't seen something like you around here before and, uh, I'm just kinda curious. I think we all are. I'm Lyra, by the way.”

“I am Flynn,” he said. “I presume you have not encountered a human before. Quineg?” He quickly realized he probably should have said 'Clansman', as humans on Terra were a given, but he did not try correcting himself.

“Um, no I haven't,” Lyra answered. “I haven't even heard of that word until now actually, or that other one. What does that last word mean?”

“It means I expected you to answer negatively to my query,” Flynn replied, quietly keeping his minor surprise at the answer to himself. “Had I said 'quiaff', I would expect you to answer affirmatively.”

Lyra nodded and smiled in understanding. “Oh now I get it. It's the words 'query' and 'negative' or 'affirmative' shortened and mashed together. Right?”

“Aff.”

“Huh, that's a interesting way to say yes or no,” she titled her head to the side lazily. “So, what brings you to Ponyville?”

Flynn looked up at the stage, where 'Trixie' had paused her act to talk to someone who was presumably heckling her in the crowd. He could not see who or hear the conversation, but he could have cared less as well.

“Well, you would probably have a hard time believing all the details in my full story,” he said. “But basically, I have been exiled from my homeland with no way to return and I am trying to find the town where I believe my idols are in this new land. When I asked a group of ponies in a town called 'Appleloosa' somewhere in the desert this morning, they told me to go here and speak to the librarian, Twilight.”

“They led you to the right place then,” Lyra said. “I don't go to her place that much, but I do know Twilight Sparkle has a huge collection of all kinds of books. I'm sure you can find an atlas or something to help you.” The teal unicorn observed Flynn's facial expression, noticing something off about it. While he appeared bored, if mildly irate to the casual observer, Lyra could tell he was also 'disconnected' from the environment. It was not just the geography, though, nor was it the visible culture the ponies had...

A few more seconds of speculation and her mind clicked a plausible solution. “Flynn, pardon me for asking this, but have you ever met a pony in your life before reaching Appleloosa?”

“Neg,” he said at first, but quickly followed up his answer. “Wait, that is only half-true. I have seen horses before, but nothing like you. The horses I knew not being able to talk is one of the differences between them and yourself.” The MechWarrior held out his hand and hovered it about a foot before Lyra, who curiously followed the hand with her eyes in uncertainty of what he was supposed to be doing. “That, and I never got so close to one before today. And no, the horses I know of cannot talk at all, not because I never tried contac-” Flynn was abruptly cut off by a second round of fireworks bursting. Both he and Lyra jumped in surprise and bolted their heads to face the spectacle before returning their focus to each other.

Lyra relaxed back into her spot and continued the chat between them. “Anyway, do you have any questions about being in a land of ponies like myself?”

Flynn broke eye contact and stared off into a distant hill. Lyra nodded in acknowledgment that it meant he was seriously considering what to ask her and patiently waited. “Just one that I can think of,” he said. “Why do you care?”

The warm smile on Lyra's face faded somewhat as she adopted a more serious tone of voice. “Well, it's because I think I can see a problem you might have around here: You're practically stuck in a foreign land where everypony is, no offense, different than you.” The teal unicorn turned her head to the crowd of ponies, lowering it as if to point with her horn. “Not just physically, but socially as well. It's already apparent from your clothes you have a unique fashion sense to wear camouflage - even if beige and brown is a bit unusual pattern to use, but I digress. Not to mention, if your journey has taken you to Equestria, the town you're looking for is likely in Equestria too.”

Lyra's reply caused something to click in Flynn's own mind. “Almost forgot, I just realized that I have not told you the name of the town I am looking for. If you can tell me where I can find Unity City, I would appreciate it and it would save me from having to ask Twilight Sparkle the same.”

Lyra kept her head low and shook it gently. “Sorry,” she said. “I don't know where to find Unity City. I have not heard of it before either.”

Flynn nodded, even if he was finding the fact that one of the two capital cities of the Star League being so obscure peculiar (the other capital was some town called 'Geneva' in the continent of Europe, but right from the start even Flynn doubted his heroes were there).

“As I was saying, with Unity City probably being in Equestria...” Lyra intentionally let the sentence hang to let Flynn fill in the blanks himself.

The MechWarrior in turn quickly caught on to what she was implying. “I would have to get used to living alongside a bunch of talking ponies. Quiaff?”

“Yes,” the teal unicorn replied. She tried to follow up her answer with something else, but was interrupted by a third set of fireworks. Lyra was not startled this time, only irritated. “I'm getting real tired of that,” she groaned as part of her face turned different colors from the light.

“If she does that again, I will call for a Trial of Grievance against her,” Flynn warned. Noticing Lyra's confusion, he added, “It is the way individuals settle problems with each other in my homeland.”

“Uh-huh,” Lyra said, wary of the 'human's' intent for the way he said it sounded like a threat; which Lyra knew would not help him adjust in the long run if he went through with it. “I don't think that 'Trixie' mare is really worth getting too upset about. The fireworks are annoying, sure but we are having a conversation while she is performing after all.”

Fortunately for Lyra, Flynn seemed to take the bait. “Back to the subject at hand,” he said. “I have only been in this land for a few hours, I think, and I can see some issues. Such as the winged ponies supposedly being able to manipulate the weather.” He pointed at a pegasus hovering above the crowd as he spoke, specifically at a gray mare with blond hair and a literal bubble butt. “Among other things.”

“You probably haven't encountered magic before then,” the teal unicorn looked at the ground, her eyes searching for a stone to use for her upcoming demonstration. “All ponies have some form of magical ability. Earth pony magic is the most passive, but I honestly don't know what it's used for though. Pegasi use it to stand on clouds and, as you mentioned, control the weather. And finally, unicorns like myself are the most inclined with magic.” Lyra was just about to telekinetically lift a stone off the ground to show Flynn, but realized they were at a show starring a unicorn showing off her magical abilities. “Just watch Trixie for a second and you'll see.”

The two set their attention to the stage, where apparently Rainbow Dash was in the midst of upstaging the magician at her own show for who knows what reason. Whatever the pegasus just did, it allowed her to create a glowing, miniature rainbow above her.

Her opponent on the stage was less than impressed. “When Trixie is through, the only they will call you is 'loser.'” The unicorn had discarded its hat, and its exposed horn glowed with a magenta aura. The rainbow above Rainbow Dash rapidly swirled around her and morphed into a tornado. The pegasus was helplessly thrashed about from her own multicolor whirlwind shortly before being tossed to the ground and obscured by the mob of adoring spectators.

Flynn clenched his fists and whisper-yelled, “Did those surats lead me here just to watch them make fools of themselves?!” While he was not explicitly trying to get attention from the showmare, Trixie seemed to personally acknowledge him by smugly nodding in his direction.

Bad idea, Lyra thought. Fortunately for the both of them, the human appeared to have enough restraint to not get up and declare his 'Trial of Grievance'. Instead he took a deep breath and shifted himself to face Lyra head on, who in turn did the same to him.

With a nervous grin on her face, Lyra said, “Well, you saw that unicorns have magic. And, uh, don't worry about Rainbow Dash. She takes her pride very seriously. And-”

“I know what you are doing, horse,” Flynn semi-calmly accused. “You are trying to talk me down from starting fights for no good reason. I assure you that I learned that lesson in Appleloosa.”

Lyra leaned her head to one side and said, “That's good, I think. It means you're making progress already in adapting.” When the human's expression went blank, she took that as a cue to explain. “Um, you know how those TV shows and books and stuff turn out with somepony having to move to a foreign land and initially there's conflict because of the difference in culture until they eventually grow accustom to each other and everything returns to normal?” She took a breath. “I think that's what's going to happen to you, Flynn.”

Smart girl... pony, he thought. He had little idea to the exact source material Lyra was citing though; as books were scarce and he used what little free time he had watching holovid programming geared toward war documentaries. Yet somehow, she sounds like this is not the first time this very situation happened. “Lyra, you sound like you have dealt with this situation before. Is that true?”

“Well, not really,” she replied. ”I've never actually talked to someone about this kind of thing before, you're the first. If it wasn't for the fact that my friend Bon-Bon-” Lyra pointed a hoof to the left side of the crowd “-the tan-ish earth pony with the purple and pink curls-” the added description allowed Flynn to find said pony with ease. ”-went through the exact same thing you are when she moved here a few years back, I probably wouldn't have brought it up at all.”

The two sat in an awkward silence for a moment before Flynn spoke up, “I am thankful for your attempt at insight, Lyra.” The MechWarrior turned his head to the mass of equines in a vain attempt to find the so-called 'Twilight Sparkle'. “Could you describe what Twilight Sparkle looks like so that I can go talk to her? I believe this show is about to end soon.”

“You're welcome,” she replied, her smile returning before she too faced the crowd and searched. “I can't see her, but she is a purple unicorn. Eye color, mane, coat, all purple. She's probably up at the front near the stage, you'll know her when you see her.” A single question popped into the teal unicorn's head as she recollected part of the conversation. A minor query that normally would only surface in retrospect, but since Lyra was thinking of it now she opted to get an answer while she had the chance. “Before you go, there's just one nit-pick question I have. You said you were in Appleloosa a couple hours ago, but the express train takes at least half a day from there to Ponyville. How did you get here so quickly if you can't fly?”

“I ran,” Flynn deadpanned. “Really, really fast.” It was technically true, as he did use a bipedal 'Mech and ran as fast as it could go without kicking into overdrive via the MASC system.

Lyra grunted in amusement at the answer but desired a more informative response. “Yeah, and?”

“I ran really, really fast in my BattleMech. That is a better answer. Qu-”

“Wait just a second,” Lyra interjected, her eyebrow lifting and ears stiffening in attention. “Did you just say, 'BattleMech'? As in... a 'giant robot with laser guns' BattleMech?” The teal unicorn leaned forward slightly as though to hear better.

“Aff. Firemoth, OmniMech, twenty-tons.”

As Flynn listed the details, the smile on Lyra's face grew into a wide grin, her eyes shot open as far as they could, she suddenly had a hard time keeping still and was practically squealing in excitement. Though the model was unfamiliar, as was the concept of an 'OmniMech', she did not care. Those were just details to a simple fact: “I knew it! BattleMechs are real!”

Flynn meanwhile tried to act unfazed by the unicorn's outburst, even if he had to admit it was at first unsettling. “BattleMechs have been real for six-hundred years, Lyra,” he said plainly. “They should come as no shocking revelation, especially here of all places.”

“What are you even talking about by 'here of all places'?! Maybe where your from 'Mechs are common, which is awesome! But here? Not at all.” Lyra could not bear jittering on the ground any further and promptly stood up to pace in a small row. “I should probably explain. Bon-Bon and I love the idea of giant robots fighting each other. We collect miniatures, we read every novel we can about the subject, we even watch cheesy Saturday morning cartoons of them whenever they come on.” The unicorn blushed at the last part, as if it was somehow especially embarrassing. “Well, okay, Bon-Bon says I'm a little obsessed with them, but I'm sure that's just because I usually beat her whenever we play tabletop. It's not my fault that she wants to play as the Everfree Acres League all the time.”

Flynn was at a loss for words. Lyra being a crazed fan of BattleMechs was forgivable, if somewhat unnerving. But the way she referred to presumably the Free Worlds League by that alternate name downright made no sense. Especially when the nearest Free Worlds planet was one jump - thirty light-years - away at most.

Of course, Lyra also mentioned that she never met a human before; when she was on Terra of all places.

...Unless that insinuated that the ponies around Flynn were humans at one point and Lyra had been a unicorn for so long that... the MechWarrior tried not to burst into laughter at such ridiculous conjecture, only stopping short at a hiccup-like exhalation.

“I should be going now,” Flynn said as he stood up and searched the front of the stage for Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash. It was not long after that he found the former three ponies talking to a purple unicorn matching Twilight Sparkle's description, who acknowledged his presence by looking directly at him, nodding and resuming her conversation with the others. “It was surprisingly a pleasure speaking to you, Lyra.”

“Hold on, Flynn! Before you go, could you show me your BattleMech please?” Lyra's pupils dilated to nearly the size of saucer plates, her lips changed into begging, quivering frown and made a 'squeaking' noise in doing so.

It was both as adorable and creepy as it sounded.

“Later,” Flynn said. “Right now I need to talk to Twilight Sparkle and learn where to go next on my journey. Once I am finished, I will pilot my Firemoth close to the edge of town to give you the opportunity to see it. Assuming doing so will not panic the townspeople.”

“It won't, I promise.” Lyra's expression reverted back to a simple smile of reassurance. The confirmation was enough for Flynn and he immediately walked off towards the three ponies as the unicorn waved goodbye with a foreleg. “Hope to see you again, Flynn. Good luck on your quest!”

Lyra placed her leg back onto the ground and watched Flynn briefly introduce himself to Twilight before they both, with three of her friends and that baby dragon of hers - Spike, if she remembered - walked off towards the library.

This wasn't so bad after all, she thought. When Bon-Bon had insisted that the both of them should see the magic show, Lyra was less than excited. She cared little about the show itself, not because of the acts, or the pony performing them. She simply did not find the appeal to be had in watching another use their magic to make pretty lights appear. Honestly, she would rather spend the afternoon doing nothing but painting her new set of hoof-crafted 'Mech models that set her back one-hundred bits, or practice the harp to unwind and relax, or both. Still, she went anyway so that her friend could be happy.

It was not long after they reached the town center that that Lyra became bored out of her mind. Fortunately, the arrival of Applejack, Rarity and Rainbow Dash with an entirely different being spiced things up somewhat. Maybe it was inappropriate to keep staring at him, but the resulting conversation with Flynn proved to be a more stimulating experience for the both of them.

Over the course of the two's chat between each other, Lyra had slowly developed a slight interest in the 'human'. Flynn seemed to be a nice enough guy. Thinking back on it, she probably should have asked a few questions about what his homeland was like while the opportunity presented itself. Then again, that was what the Equestrian mail service was for. All she needed to do was wait a reasonable time for Flynn to presumably get asylum and continue contact from there. She doubted tracking him down would be that difficult.

Of course, those plans were all but forgotten upon the reveal that BattleMechs, did in fact, exist.

Lyra scanned the crowd of now-leaving ponies for her friend, eventually finding Bon-Bon searching for herself as well near a shrub. “Bon-Bon!” Lyra yelled over the chatter of the dispersing citizens of Ponyville as she enthusiastically trotted towards her friend. “You won't believe what I just learned right now!”

Author's Note

Primary Objective: Publish and hopefully subvert obligatory 'Lyra meets human' chapter: Successful

I do apologize for this also overdue chapter. To spare you the details of why: School is tough, but I try to slowly inch my way along writing new chapters. I will still strive for an at least monthly update schedule, but I cannot promise it.

As usual, you are encouraged to leave any questions, concerns and/or suggestions you might have in a comment and I will do what I can about them.

Oh, and no offense to any Mariks out there.

Chapter 7: And Seventeen Clanner Refrigerators Grew Proud

After only a short walk down the streets of Ponyville away from the town center and Sweet Apple Acres, the six were now before a giant tree. A giant tree that just so happened to have a red door leading into the stump, windows peering out from the branches revealing bookshelves inside and a personal telescope resting on balcony at the very top.

The ponies were not lying about the library/Twilight Sparkle's home being a treehouse.

As Twilight Sparkle was explaining about the problems arrogance brought to her pet lizard, the horn on her head glowed purple and the door swiftly opened before them. The inside was packed with books of all sizes, shapes and cover patterns littering the floor. Half-empty shelves were carved into the inner walls in almost every direction. A wooden ladder leaned against a balcony and lead up to the upper floors, most likely where Twilight's quarters and perhaps even more books were located.

“Don't mind the mess,” Twilight said, levitating a few books in her path back into their right places. “I was practicing some new spells and nee-” The unicorn was interrupted by a nudging from the the small, purple bipedal lizard riding on her back. She turned her head to look back at it and sternly said, “No, Spike.”

“I do not care about your personal problems. Just tell me where to find Unity City.” Flynn said, having to duck to get through the door. Not by much, but enough to bring his head down to chest height.

Twilight let out a faint sigh. “You cared enough to tell me you didn't,” she muttered, a bit quieter than she intended, however. For that reason or another, her guest did not seem to react to her snark. She then reminded herself not to lapse in discourtesy again, not even in jest, considering the nature of first contact, and the nature of the contact.

Flynn had to admit, the lizard was not like anything he ever saw before. The same could be said about the ponies in general, really, but for now his thoughts were trained on the reptile. It was clearly young, possibly only a baby judging by its short, stubby, even more rounded-out appearance compared to the ponies. Being an infant, the MechWarrior hardly considered the lizard dangerous, even if the four digits on each of its claws seemed quite sharp for its age.

On the other hand, it could very well be a fully grown adult for its species for all he knew. If so, it would only serve as another reminder that logic as Flynn knew it acted more leniently in death.

“Lizard... Spike, what are you exactly?” Flynn asked.

“Hey, I'm not a lizard.“ Spike replied, a slight raise in voice implying offense at the term. “I'm a dragon.”

“A dragon,” Flynn repeated, not even trying to make it sound like another question. Another disconnect of the living world, he realized.

A dragon was the symbol of the aptly named Draconis Combine, domain of House Kurita. Dragons were meant to be huge, ferocious, honorable reptiles that could intimidate all but the bravest of warriors. Unsurprisingly, the despot Kuritans and their armies tried to sell themselves off as embodiments of these creatures in human form, even naming at least one 'Mech after them in their conceitedness.

Flynn smirked in self-assurance that Spike was a more accurate portrayal of the Combine military's true nature.

“Yeah, now could you please apologize for calling me a lizard?” Spike asked.

“Surkai then, we can deal with my punishment later.” The MechWarrior replied, absentmindedly waving his hand. He adopted a more stern tone and turned his head to Twilight. “Now, find the town.”

Twilight Sparkle knew well the significance of Flynn's arrival. She did not need to check her collection of bestiaries or sociology books to know that the newcomer's species was unrecorded, or the very least not well understood. Thus, the two made a deal to each other after introductions were out of the way. In exchange for the answers to his questions on where to find 'Unity City' - a town she, like the others, had never heard of - Flynn was to answer her own questions regarding his species, humans, as he called them, before later contacting Princess Celestia to set up official diplomatic ties.

The unicorn had butterflies in her stomach and a small grin on her face, side effects of the potential before her. Not only could she begin research into a new field - of what to call it had yet to be decided - but she may also learn aspects of friendship in the process. Though Twilight knew well that the study of friendship was not to be glossed over, neglected or otherwise downplayed, she did have a feeling that hearing the practically alien human's interpretation on the subject would help immensely.

She knew many words and conversations in the following days would be exchanged and likely put into many social research books, especially the ones she might end up writing herself later in life. However, Twilight had to admit that if things went smoothly - well, relatively smoothly - the four words Flynn said immediately after explaining the deal between them had potential to be the most oft-quoted phrase about establishing relations between ponykind and the humans, or any newly discovered race for that matter.

“Bargained well and done.”

She cast her thoughts aside for a moment and soon every book on the floor was covered in a violet glow and levitated into the shelves in alphabetical order. The move was only meant to be temporary, as she merely wanted to tidy the room for aesthetic purposes and there was no guarantee everything went into its rightful spot. After she had the time, she would need to reshuffle books into several additional orders, double check each time, then ensure every shelf was level by hoof so as to store the maximum possible number of tomes per shelf.

Years of practice in the Canterlot Library for just such an occurrence allowed her to finish it all on average in just forty-five minutes.

The ponies, Flynn and Spike took spots around the library and sat down on the floor. Twilight levitated a few pieces of parchment, a quill and an ink bottle onto the table before her. “Now, before I help you search for Unity City, I just want get some basic facts out of the way first with a brief session,” she said, Flynn let out a small sigh.

“No, you will not,” he replied, glaring at the purple horse with poorly hidden annoyance. “In case you have forgotten. By declaring 'bargained well and done', you agreed to our terms, that any and all questions are reserved for after you help me. This agreement is final and breaking it will lead to... consequences.”

From his observations on the other two species of 'pony' at the show, the pegasi's ability to fly and to manipulate the weather was quite imposing of a threat in the manner of creating lightning bolts to strike at enemies from above, though they also did look rather frail in body - even the presumably athletic Rainbow Dash - in comparison to the 'earth ponies' like Applejack and definitely the latter's brother. Meanwhile, if Trixie was anything to go by, the 'unicorns' and their magic allowed them to lift objects off the ground and potentially throw them with great force as well as control the weather, but in turn they appeared even more physically weak. For himself, obviously he had the Firemoth, except he was barely within sprinting distance of it at the moment, and, despite having basic personal defense training, felt somewhat vulnerable outside it.

In the confines of the library however, he might be able to negate both sides advantages and disadvantages within the close quarters as well as a wolf-like cunning use of improvised weapons - a chair leg club being the first on his mind. While he had no intentions of starting a fight with the ponies, if one broke out he did have intentions of finishing it.

Twilight did not appear intimidated by the choice of words, but she nodded in compliance. “Alright, just a minute please.” The unicorn took an errant scrap of parchment and hastily scrawled the words 'Unity City' on it via magically held quill. Then the unicorn snatched the largest, most comprehensive and up-to-date atlas she had from a random shelf. Twilight's horn and the words themselves glowed a wavy purple and the book fluttered open page by page trying to find any and all matches, which would be highlighted for quick access.

No matches.

As Twilight Sparkle watched the pages flail from one side to the other, Flynn looked at the other ponies. With the exception of Rainbow Dash who continued to eye him suspiciously, all of them apparently setting their minds about various unrelated personal things.

A thought occurred to Rarity in that moment that Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy were likely to drop by to meet the new being. Not so much so for the latter, but judging by Flynn's rather annoyed attitude, and the fact that he addressed himself as a warrior - and looked the part too, she admitted - the former may get herself into trouble if she was not careful. “Flynn, is there any chance that you have met Pinkie Pie yet?” she asked with a hint of worry in her voice.

“Neg,” he replied. “Are they supposed to be important?”

“Only the funnest, cheeriest pony in Ponyville!” The MechWarrior jerked up straight and twisted around when he heard a high-pitched voice behind him. From literally nowhere a pink 'earth pony' with huge, puffy hair leaped to his side and glared at him with enormous eyes and an even bigger grin. “Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie and I'm a pony and I don't know what you are so you might not know what I am because even though I'm pink I'm not really a pie but I think that would be sweet to be a pie especially a cherry one but I wouldn't mind being a blueberry one or even a rhubarb one because rhubarb is kinda pink like me!”

Flynn's first thought was to punch out the surat for spooking him, but he restrained himself only out of courtesy of the others. Although, he did seriously reconsider performing the action as she refused to just shut up. Evenly, he said, “Pinkie Pie, I am only going to say this once. Provoking a Clansman, especially a warrior, is an unwise move. I expect you to not sneak up on me or otherwise try to surprise me in any way again without a killer reason. Quiaff?”

The pink pony shut its eyes and smiled, “Okie dokie, lokie!” She then raised her hoof in what Flynn imagined was her performing the “OK” gesture without digits.

The other ponies seemed to pay no attention to the newcomer equine besides a quick look, implying that Pinkie Pie was no doubt the town crazy, and a mostly harmless one at that. The question of how she managed to sneak up behind him with no obvious means to do so floated in Flynn's mind for a moment, and vanished when the mundane, logical answer like a secret trapdoor or so would probably not be the case in the abstract, illogical afterlife and left it at that. Thus, Flynn thought it even more imperative to not to let his guard down outside his 'Mech - and even there he might not be safe.

The MechWarrior barely noticed the other newcomer slink in, a light yellow pegasus that also had pink hair. At first it seemed... shy, even more so than what Lyra expressed. Flynn chose to just acknowledge her presence, her potential as a threat - always beware the ones that least appear menacing, he knew - and return his attention to whatever Twilight was doing.

When the back cover of the atlas slammed shut, Twilight frowned and pulled more from the shelves. After thirty seconds of similar unsuccessful results, she looked back up at Flynn and said, “I'm sorry, Flynn but I cannot a town named Unity City.”

Flynn raised his brow and leaned forward slightly. “Nothing?” he asked, the unicorn nodded. “Give me that book, I want to look myself.”

Twilight brought to first atlas over to the MechWarrior, who pulled it closer to him mid-flight. When he grasped the tome as it was irradiated in magic, it felt like it had an extra 'skin', like it was coated in a violet glaze. A glaze that vanished almost immediately after, replaced with a moderate level of girth from the book being the size of a small tray.

Flynn opened up to a random page around the halfway mark, and stared at the page. On it was a map of a city, but that was not what he found odd. He slowly looked back up at the purple unicorn still at the desk. “I cannot read this,” he deadpanned.

Twilight Sparkle's eyes widened at the assertion. “You can't read it? Like... you can't read?”

“No, I mean that I cannot read this because the words in this book are literally either illegible scribbles or random horse-related symbols.” Flynn held up the open book for her to see. Even several feet away Twilight could tell it was the city of Calfella to the far south. On the side of the map was basic information about the town, which to her was perfectly understandable.

“Wait, I think I know why. That's the Equestrian variant of the alphabet.”

Flynn raised his brow, “What are you even talking about 'the Equestrian variant'? The only iteration that should be relevant anymore is Star League Standard, and that is not it.” Flynn knew that in places such as the Capellan Confederation and Draconis Combine, non-standard characters were used somewhat often due to the overtones to Ancient Terran cultures both nations shared, but those were exceptions to the rule and still uncommon.

Twilight's expression went from mild confusion to a smile that all but said 'stay, and learn'. The unicorn levitated yet another book off the shelf and held it open and aloft on a certain page, seeming to forget that he could not read it anyway. “Well, according to Discourse on Language, the written alphabet as most ponies know is composed of various curved lines - or 'scribbles' as you call them - to illustrate verbs, adjectives and most common nouns.” Twilight flipped the page to the next. “However, depending on historical preferences, pictographs is often used. However-” Twilight skipped a few pages ahead, which had the alphabet as Flynn knew it laid out in a row, no sign of lowercase though. “-there is a second alphabet, as you can see here-” She highlighted the box containing the letters. “-But it really isn't used around here.”

“Why not?” Flynn withheld his knowledge of the letters in actual, if faint, interest of what the unicorn had to say.

“This particular alphabet, originating from the Minotaurian Concordat and mainly used there and in the Griffon Kingdoms made its first significant appearance to the Equestrian public when it was put on the covers of the Daring Do adventure novels by A.K. Yearling. But most ponies just think it's a stylistic choice.”

Ignoring the notion that the alphabet was invented anywhere besides Terra, Flynn had heard of the Taurian Concordat before - some Periphery 'nation' in the galactic south, or 'rimward'. Since it was located at the opposite side of the Inner Sphere from where the Clan invasion corridors were, as well as being a relatively minor power compared to the neighboring House Davion, there was little incentive for him to know more than that. The Griffon Kingdoms, however, could be alluding to anything, maybe petty bandit kingdoms most Periphery worlds amount to be. He did not know, and it did not really matter at the moment.

“Fascinating,” Flynn said, as wholeheartedly as his tone implied, which was to say not much. “So, this helps me find Unity City how again?”

On one hand, Twilight considered just directly contacting Princess Celestia and asking her about the town. On the other hand, if absolutely none of the books she had referenced Unity City even in passing, it was unlikely that such a town still existed, if it ever did at all.

“I have come to the conclusion that the town you're looking for is not in Equestria, Flynn, or anywhere.” Twilight said, frowning. “I know that absence of evidence does not necessarily mean evidence of absence, but I don't believe this is the case here. Sorry.”

“Is this not Terra, for how can there be no evidence if this is Earth? Present me a map of this planet,” Flynn ordered. He would play no more questioning games with small technicolor horses, no more inner battles against self-doubt. He was going to confirm whether or not he was on Terra. “Now!”

Twilight made a minor scowl at the human's rudeness, but turned the pages nonetheless on the atlas towards a complete map of Equestria on one page and an incomplete map of the world on the other and presented it to the MechWarrior who took it in hand.

On both pages were irregularly shaped landmasses with mountains, lakes, rivers, cities and other geographical features scattered haphazardly, and not in the shape of the seven continents either. If these were supposed to be maps of Terra, Flynn could only wish that he could give such vital first hand intel to the Grand Council. The thirty-four Khans might appreciate it so much that they would put copies on their respective Clan's refrigerators for all to see.

Then again, it also confirmed he was not on Terra, despite what his Nav computer said.

Flynn lowered the book and sighed, a feeling of coldness washed over him. At first it was just a simple dermal chill that would inspire one to cover up. Had this been all been for nothing? The question lingered in his mind. The fact that he was dead because of dishonorable means hardly bothered him anymore. He had come to terms with that as early as first realizing such in the desert, the most he could do in that regard was wish his two other sibmates luck in their own quests to become proper warriors.

He had to admit, in the back of his mind he knew the odds of him being on the real Earth were slim, made ever slimmer as he discovered the ponies. But he pushed those thoughts back, for was the alternative of just idly sitting in his Firemoth, pointlessly contemplating his possible fates preferable? No, he knew, much better to have gone out and discovered it for himself. The unfounded assumption of everything being a test of character was just that, an unfounded assumption he made to try and find greater purpose to his actions.

The MechWarrior's sensation of cold grew stronger, now more akin to stepping out of a lukewarm shower, entering another room and letting the ambient temperature dry him off. If this is the afterlife, full of nonsense and ponies and magic... he thought. What did I do to deserve this? No, really, I take the last gelatin once and I get damned to Ponyland? He knew such questions would never be answered, not truthfully, but he still felt compelled to ask them.

Although he admitted the less talked about the gelatin incident's repercussions, the better.

Flynn felt something stroking his left arm near the codex bracelet on his wrist. He turned and saw the the yellow pony looking back at him with big, blue condoling eyes. He put his hand over the thing's outstretched leg and tried to find a depression in the soft fur where the hoof and the leg met. Apparently the ponies did not have actual hooves for he failed to find one. In order to preserve at least some sense of dignity, he gently pushed the leg away and jerked his head to signal for the pony to back off.

When it did, a little too eagerly at that, Flynn sighed again and tried to make the best of the situation with some semblance of humor - at least the closest analogue to humor a Clansman could make. “Welcome to the afterlife, Flynn,” he spoke aloud. “You get to spend it with multicolored mutant ponies... Forever. You may scream at any time.”

“Scream?! I love screaming!” The high-pitched, grating voice of Pinkie Pie brought Flynn out of his mild trance. “I mean there's so much to scream about because that's why I have a mouth even though I also have a mouth to eat and talk but screaming is also there too but I'm pretty sure you could scream without a mouth if you must!” To illustrate her claim in a most disturbing manner, the pink equine literally peeled off her mouth like it velcro - complete with sound effects - by performing a zipper-like motion with her hoof, making a muffled shriek and putting her mouth back onto her face. “See? You can scream with no mouth!”

The MechWarrior stared at the pony for a moment, and slowly broke into a short giggling fit. His laughter was not the reaction of hearing a wonderful joke so much as a coping mechanism in the response of the mortifying abuse of biology that occurred before him. It was like Pinkie Pie had just showed him the road to gleeful madness, and tried shoving him to make him take a step on it. Meanwhile, none of the others made even the slightest reaction, like it was somehow a normal occurrence.

It also made him think back to what Lyra said about how the general plots of holovid shows go with the situation he was in. She was right, he may not be experiencing debilitating shock - it was more like mirth for all the wrong reasons at the moment - but if and when he does he just needed to remind himself that those feelings are temporary and that he will adjust eventually. Somehow - it was at least more meaningful than whining about how things are different to himself like a freebirth.

With the impact of Pinkie's actions faded and/or reserved for late night reflection in the place of sleep, Flynn crossed his arms and said. “Alright, surats, though you may have failed in helping me, you kept up your end of the bargain. I will now keep up mine. You may begin your queries at any time.”

Applejack watched Twilight and Flynn begin by conversing the most basic of facts about the latter's species, such as average height, weight, dietary preferences and other trivial details she did not much mind for. Personally she wanted to know some more about BattleMechs and what Circe was like, and would ask those when the time was right. Ah really hope she doesn't take too long, Ah need to get back to work sooner or later.

The orange farmer pony could not help but wonder of what her brother was going through at the moment. She knew he was still at the clinic - they locked the door leading to the patient rooms from the inside just because of him.

Big McIntosh nervously shifted his eyes around his surroundings. The padded bed table he sat on was cold as the cellar at home, his nervous shivering doing nothing to warm himself. The soundproof walls were a sterile, unforgiving eggshell white with tiles with the horrible little slits in them on the imposing ceiling. There were no windows to jump out of, the thick wooden door was locked, and the provided reading material was at least ten months old!

Nopony could hear him scream.

As the door handle turned, the colt shut his eyes as tight as he could. He could bear to see the horror about to unfold. The door creaked in and the clopping, oh sweet Celestia the clopping that followed further instilled terror into Big Mac. A cheery, affable voice called out to him, “Good afternoon, Mr. Apple, glad you could have made it.”

He did not open his eyes, but he knew who it was. A white earth pony with pink hair in a bun with a red plus sign cutie mark, wearing a white nurse's coat over her natural one. He dared not remember any further details, they would only give him a reason to actually look at Nurse Redheart.

“Please just leave the blood-pressure-thing in the drawer! I checked mahself th-this morning. One-seventy-hundred-over-nine!” Big Mac curled up into the fetal position and refused to relax his appendages at any cost. He knew the nurse was still reaching for the gauge however. “Please no! It makes mah leg fall asleep!”

They went through the same, abominable routine every time: First a check of the blood pressure that subjected one of his forelegs to a grueling vice-like grip. Then the good nurse administered the stethoscope, a device that brought an intense sensation of cold and awkwardness to Big Mac's soul on par to the lick of a Wendigo savoring its freshly caught prey. While the third stage of checking his ears and nostrils for infection was largely mundane in comparison to what came before, the worst had yet to come.

Personally, Nurse Redheart found having to practically do a checkup on the colt every time he came in most unnecessary, and he obviously found it scary, but she also valued her job and needed to go along with it to keep it.

The nurse threw a depressor into the trash and turned to face the shuddering stallion. “Oh, grow up, Mr. Apple,” she said. “Your baby sister acts braver than you now.”

The assertion seemed to do the trick for the colt, who steadily unfurled his limbs and opened his eyes. He lowered his head, looked up at her with his eyes and with with cheeks redder than usual said, “Ya know Ah don't like bein' here, and ya know Ah don't like this part.”

“I know, Mr. Apple. That's why we're finally doing away with them,” the nurse leaned down and opened a cupboard by the sink. The next part of the session was to make sure Big Mac had something to eat before he went off to exercise, they never took his word that he 'ate before he got here' because it would defeat the purpose of this part of the therapy. “You see, Mr. Apple, while your dietary reports are good in general, there is one deficiency you should check into.” Redheart pulled out a silver platter complete with cover from the cupboard by her teeth, placing it on a small folding table in front of Big Mac.

With the platter obscuring the stallion's view of her, the nurse fiddled with the buttons on her shirt and continued. “You see, it has come to my attention that you are not getting enough cheesecake in your diet.” The emphasis placed on the word 'cheesecake' naturally convinced Big Mac's eyes to skeptically open wider in search of the source. Upon noticing that she had full attention, Redheart lifted the platter cover with a hoof and grinned an intentionally over-the-top grin. “Ta-da!”

The stallion's pupils swelled at the sight of the dessert between him and the professionally-dressed nurse. An ivory cheesecake about six inches in diameter drizzled with succulent dark chocolate over its horizontal surface unsuccessfully marred by butterscotch chips. The very sight of such a divine treat made Big Mac's tongue twitch in lustful desire and vague disappointment within the confines of his mouth.

Big Mac inquisitively looked up at the nurse, whose warm expression non-verbally asserted 'It is all yours'. To some ponies, the lack of a fork or similar food utensil would be a deal-breaker, but Big Mac was not to be deterred so easily. Besides, he washed his hooves in the sink almost right after he stepped into the room, so what harm was there?

The red stallion scooped a chunk of the cheesecake with his hooves, crammed it into his maw and heartily chewed, ignoring most conventions of manners for the sake of cake. Nurse Redheart observed enthusiastically with clipboard in hoof, writing into what he assumed to be his progress log.

Just as Big Mac was about to swallow his first bites of cake, the realization dawned on him that something was very, very wrong. He could taste it, deep within the layers of carbohydrates, fats and high-fructose corn syrup was the terrifying presence of a natural ingredient. The natural ingredient.

Pears.

The chunks of cheesecake still in his hooves simply dropped onto himself, the table or the floor. Big Mac's dilated irises quickly shrunk to the size of peas and the stallion himself froze in abject horror for a moment. Redheart took note, stepped out of his path and awaited what was about to happen next. Big Mac soon yelled his lungs out, spraying cake bits onto the counter top in the process, he flailed his appendages in every direction he could. When his mouth was sufficiently free of the dessert, he fell backwards onto the table, his mouth agape and unconscious body sprawled out.

Redheart groaned silently before quickly returning to her faux-cheery demanor. By Big Mac's own written confession, he had a hatred/fear for pears so strong that he injured himself during a panic attack while eating one, hence the need for therapy. Out of context the solution seemed to be avoid eating pears, however, the full story was much more than that.

The nurse flipped the progress log on the clipboard to a copy of the confession. To remind herself what she was dealing with, she reread it again:

I am an apple farmer, a successful one at that. And like any successful apple farmer, I must take pride in my work. Because I take pride in my work, I must view other fruits only in contempt, but especially pears. My disliking of pears is so strong that I tend to temporarily lose my mind in disgust upon tasting one. However, with the tasks of tending for my family as well as the orchard, it is relatively easy for me to forget that I hate pears. Therefore, every so often I usually take about two minutes out of my day to eat one to reaffirm my disliking of pears. For if I were to go too long without doing so, I would forget that I hate pears and may even come to like them. And if I did that, I would not take pride in my work anymore. And if I did not take pride in my work, I would not be a successful apple farmer and my family would lose our home and have to move in with a relative, who too would go under because I am an unsuccessful apple farmer. The process would repeat until the entire apple industry in Equestria is undermined, all because I liked pears.

When she first read the confession, Redheart assumed the otherwise mentally stable Big Mac was pulling some kind of prank. However, the first few sessions of inversion therapy (i.e. having him eat pears) to rid such a irrational phobia, of which he willingly and paradoxically participated in no less, confirmed his beliefs were genuine. To her knowledge, Big Mac's family was unaware of his unique stance on fruit, but if they were they would probably sue the Cakes into the ground if they found out that Sugarcube Corner supplied a cheesecake with pears in it when Big Mac was explicitly informed that the ineffective inversion therapy would be discontinued that same day.

As for what brought a fear of medicine in general to him, she did not know. But she did know more than one means to desensitize the stallion, which compared to his prior visits, proved quite effective.

Stepping over the cake bits, nurse Redheart reached into a pocket for a vial of smelling salts. The catatonic stallion drenched in his own sweat stirred to even before the vial reached his nostrils. When she deemed him adequately aware, she calmly said, “Come on, Mr. Apple, time for your sponge bath.”

With the worst over, Big McIntosh made an eager smile. “Eeyup.”

Author's Note

As I go through writing these chapters, I have the fear that I am not portraying the Clan characters or the ponies or the setting perfectly. I do admit that I can and will always improve as I go along. Yet, I am also aware of the fact that because there are so few BattleTech/MLP fics around, this one will inevitably be compared to much greater stories such as TTL, MW:E and Falling Stars. All of which have the lore well-researched, everypony in-character, humor and are all around magnificent versus well... this. Now, I will not let this petty moping deter me from continuing on, for I enjoy writing this. Still, I have doubts of myself when I have not read any BattleTech novels or have any experience with the franchise itself outside the computer games. That is one of the reasons I encourage you to voice questions, concerns and the like, as well as general courtesy.

All that said, next chapter we will go back to the Homeworlds and Derek's quest for glory, as well as introduce a new one.