Escalation

Prologue

Inside one of the splendid guest rooms of Canterlot Castle, a figure started to rise from his bed. He was not a griffon ambassador, for that nation had closed its borders a long time ago. Nor was he a member of the Royal Staff, for they lived in the lower levels of the castle. His clawed toes slipped out of the rich sheets, and came to rest on the polished floor of the lavish bedchambers. Next to the bed were his black combat boots, polished and blacked almost to the point to where they would fail inspection. A job overly done, probably by one of the staff. Seeing the freshly oiled leather sitting right on the polished floor made him grimace and worry that it might stain. Everything in this room seemed almost too perfect to use. Lying in that bed felt like he was spoiling some display, and walking his freshly polished boots across the floor almost felt like an insult to the palace maids.

The decadence of this place never ceased to amaze him and it seemed like there was no such thing as mass production to the citizens of Equestria. Each and every article in his chamber seemed hand-carved, meticulously polished, and lovingly placed. Everything from the rosewood bed to the sturdy desk and even the glossy floor that it stood on seemed to bear the mark of some master craftsman. The sun’s glow flowed from the large window in the room and slowly began to warm Tarkan’s skin. And with his mind finally awake enough to process where he was and what had led him here, he let out a groan as he stretched his old bones. It was one of the best rooms in the whole castle for her appreciated guest.

Tarkan was the military advisor to the grand ruler of Equestria, the illustrious and not-often seen Princess Celestia. The ghostly, colorless body of the humanoid creature stumbled away from his bed. His pale bald head shined in the glow of the rising sun. His marine-blue, slitted eyes squinted as the morning rays illuminated the room. The sun here always bothered his eyes, and he shielded eyes with a hand until they could adjust to the alien star. The advisor was not by any means an Equestrian; he, like other members of his species, hail from a star so far away that it could not be seen through the most powerful of Equestrian telescopes.

They were Raslians, the sons and daughters of the Raslian Republic, one of the two powerhouse that had once jockeyed for control over hundreds of star systems against a separate union of planets and races, often with war and violence. But tempers had cooled, and the Galactic Union had signed their armistice with the Raslians. But all that declaration had done was move the conflict away from the battlefield, and into a long and drawn out power struggle that continually drove both factions to seek more worlds to bring into the fold. This led the Raslain Republic exploration ship: Narada to this world.

Tarkan drew a clawed hand over his scaly, white skin, relieving himself of the nagging itch that seemed to come every morning. Even though his bed was made from some of the silkier textiles that this backwater planet had to offer, it still had nothing on his bed back home. He missed his home ... he missed it very much. He massaged his wrinkled forehead with his three-fingered hands.

It’s going to be another long day in Equestria.

After putting on his boots he walked to the desk. He grabbed a black short-sleeved t-shirt that was hanging from the office chair. Putting on the soft cotton fabric over his upper body, he then started on the task on hand. He bent down and opened one of the drawers, removing a yellow manila folder from the wooden furniture. Collecting the items that littered the desk from last night's work session, he quickly sealed it to present his morning report to the self-proclaimed, all-powerful leader.

Tarkan seized the vintage bottle from the desk, opened it, and greedily downed it's amber-colored contents. The liquid burned as it went down his throat, leaving a warm sensation within the pit of his stomach. He paused his guzzling, removing the rare bottle from his lips. Tarkan looked at the window and laid the file back down on the desk, drink in hand. He leaned an arm against the frame of the window.

There he saw the entire beautiful, decaying city of Canterlot in its former-splendor; its many towers crumbling from the consent barrages of missiles that allied and insurgent forces hid in. The streets emptied of life, homes and business looted and ransacked for anything useful to survive. In the end it was all about survival. Gaining the upper hand against an enemy, using any means to outlive them, to fight them, to kill them.

Tarkan took a sip. He could see a small pillar of smoke billowing from the city below. The sound of spinning blades could be heard as a dropship raced towards the scene, its black metallic frame shining in the morning sun .Dual rotors spun in synchronized fashion as it headed for its destination. As the sound faded, so did the dropship, disappearing over the horizon like the moon falling to make way for the day. Just another day in Equestria, Tarkan took another sip from the bottle.

Ah, shit…

Six months after they made landfall... Gods had it been six months since? More like six years, on this rock. Tarkan chuckled to himself on the thought. But for him it’s been years since he’d seen his wife. His marriage was falling apart,so, he joined the army. Over the years he rose through the ranks but ever since…the fuck up happened he was transferred to the newly formed Raslian Republic exploration fleet. Forever ago since he’d seen his child, that… no, the last time he saw him was… when his ex-wife took custody of the child. I-it felt like a lifetime ago. Tarkan sighed, and took a drink.

Tarkan was extremely fortunate that these bipedal ponies spoke the universal language: English. In the abyss they said that they were here to help but…damn it what was that blue alicorn’s name? …L-luna yes, she almost ruined the talks with her declaring that Tarkan and his men came here for war…war and occupation of Equestria! How in the abyss could a force of 1,300 men occupy one whole city let alone inhabit a whole Gods damn kingdom. But still she wouldn’t listen even though he specifically said that we come in peace, that we are here to help you with the problem that your kind faces. Tarkan took another sip.

With the use of advanced technology and the united forces of the RRS Narada crew and the newly converted royal guard they will hopefully find a cure for the disease, this plague… that was slaughtering these ponies day after day. So far a cure has not been found and their stay only brought more problems than solutions. After their Captain Vendan Viseer went M.I.A, Tarkan quickly assumed command. Vendan even gave Tarkan the bottle as a gift before he went missing. Tarkan looked at the bottle and sighed it was almost empty.

Vendan… he could have become a fucking admiral but, he risked his whole career vouching for Tarkan at the trial, just because those higher- ups said he was charged with a war crime that he didn’t do! What the fuck, he had direct orders to attack! Over the twenty plus years he served in the armed forces he never question orders, he just followed them. But Vendan had to do this, he just had to come here and get involved with these animal’s affairs.To become a hero... The reason why is that Vendan could finally get promoted to admiral and Tarkan could get his old position back.

Document and leave those were the orders that Tarkan followed. He didn’t want to sink deeper into the shithole he dug himself into. But that bastard...no more like a mother fucking coward just left. No one knows why he did it. Maybe he couldn’t handle the stress, the pressure of seeing piles upon piles of the infected doused in flamer fuel waiting to be set ablaze! He just disappeared leaving Tarkan to clean up his mess to finish what he started. Tarkan gritted his teeth, and tighten his grip around the bottle. He was losing his temper again, breathe, Tarkan,breathe. He closed his eyes, and took several deep calming breaths.

Tarkan opened his eyes; he already wasted a sufficient amount of time. He turned around and placed the bottle back on the desk he then grabbed the folder and headed down toward the door.

Outside the window of Tarkan’s guestroom to the dying city, a very weak signal crackled in the coms at first but, as the dropship headed deeper and deeper in the city the signal increased gradually until the pilot could make it out.

“Mayday, mayday, this is Echo Base One requesting support! Repeat this is Echo Base One requesting immediate support! Over,” screamed the speaker.

“This is Bug 610 to Echo Base One, I read you loud and clear. Coming by to assist, over.” Said the pilot.

A pause, in the background you could hear a low whistling and a large boom. “Located at grid: 4Q, sector: 2467 we are under heavy enemy mortar fire. Please can you assist, we’ve got sick and wounded over. ”

In the background a young woman was crying, more whistling and bangs, some rapid exchange of laser fire, screaming of men, women and children filled the airwaves. All of this was happening while a voice trying to be heard amidst the chaos; “We need to get these civvies to the evac zone!”

“Oh shit in-incomi-” There was a loud bang.

“Echo Base One to Bug 610 respond, repeat Echo Base One please respond,” the pilot said.
Only radio static could be heard on the other end.