At first noticed, fluctuation in power. As if, a reality-bending structure with the force of a thousand suns struck her in the mind. Nothing. Whispers of the death, the particular aura of the moon being able to be sensed within her. She was still there, in the satellite, wandering through halls of theory that never ceased to expand, along with the hundreds of souls that had perished in the same place as her that same night. Silence. Overwhelming sense of dread that compulsively threatened to kill it all, over and over again.

Fluctuating current of existence that had not considered slowing down for once, yet it did, then accelerated again, and repeated the same process. Something wanted to wake her up. The whispers went quiet and stared at her, voices arriving that however did not want to stop and watch like the whispers did. Getting stronger, not only the voices, but herself as well.

How far had she approached the void? Time would tell. It never lies unless you adjust the clock to lie for you. Even then, it was honest, already telling her that she had to breathe.

She tried, yet could not. Not even an image to give name to the everlasting death that would not let go. Dancing words that could hardly form coherent thought and line of prose. Coma would be an adequate definition for the state she was in. A spark, lighting the fires of the sun that warmed the body and fed the soul. Tragic stories of death forming paragraph upon paragraph of thought that lined themselves like drunken sailors.

Luna opened her eyes to see the burning light behind armored body. She was alive, and something joined the ride with her.

Pipsqueak’s visor slid closed as he looked up into the sky, polarizing as to compensate for the glaring strength of Zebrica’s sun. Far above him and the canyons was a massive, flaming object breaking out of hyperspace in the middle of the atmosphere. What looked like a meteorite was blazing towards the planet, and with little time to react, the Commander turned to his squad and yelled out: “Take cover!” as he crouched down, prompting the others to do the same.

The meteorite was quick to fly over their heads, crashing down with a deafening blast nearby. The ground quaked with intensity as it did, and light flashed around the crash site as it collided.

He remained in the same position for a few seconds, listening as his radio picked up a signal. “Commander, this is Apex HQ, come in Commander.”

Releasing a grunt, Pipsqueak stood up, grabbing a hold of his rifle and looking at the rest of his team as he replied, “Commander Pipsqueak here…”

“We just picked up a strange hyperspace rupture in your area. Can you confirm?”

“Confirmed…” He frowned behind his visor. His squad whispered to each other in confusion.

“Acknowledged. As your squad is nearest to the location, we require you to go investigate. Code: SENT, GATHER, SACRIFICE.”

“... Copy that.” Pipsqueak stomped on the ground angrily as the transmission line cut off, forcing his squad to look over to him. “Alright, listen up!” he yelled. “We’re heading to the crash site, and let’s be quick.”

It took a few seconds for his subordinates to process the order. They then, reluctantly, began their move towards the crash site, following the canyon.

With rifle in hand, he pressed on, briefly wondering what it was that he would find on the crash site.

“Born to go into harm’s way, I guess,” Corporal Jamble said as they observed the massive meteorite. A metallic structure, red hot from the friction it received as it entered the atmosphere and crashed.

Pipsqueak shouldered his rifle, grumbling. “Command… you getting this?”

“Affirmative, Commander. Request send one of your units to investigate. SACRIFICE code is now in full effect.”

He looked behind himself, seeing his squad staring at him worriedly. Pipsqueak then turned back to the object. “Stay here. All of you,” he said as began to walk towards it.

“But… sir,” Mirror uttered.

“That’s an order!” the Commander barked as he sped up his pace. He maintained a firm grip on his rifle, walking ever closer to the object itself, to the point where the well-defined, metallic plates and hydraulics of it were visible to him. His geiger counter lit up, crackling with intensity.

A low, metallic growl emanated from the structure. He stopped on his trail, several dozen meters away from the massive pseudo-meteorite. “Sir…” his radio picked up Kent’s voice. “Get out of there.”

He began to step back when another deafening metallic growl shook the ground under his armored feet. Completely stoic, he watched as it uncurled itself, still glowing from the heat, what seemed like an arm stretching out into the air, then a second one, both of them fitted with massive claws and several cannons. It was not long before it used both arms to prop itself up, standing up on two, reverse-jointed legs, looking directly at Pipsqueak with two, glowing red eyes. Underneath them was a dented jaw, with the half-mangled body of a human hanging from it.

General Gilda, along with an entire team of technicians inside the Apex Citadel stared at a group of holoscreens, each of them displaying an enormous, bipedal construct from the point of view of a certain Commander Pipsqueak. Her eyes widened as it began to open fire upon the Guardsman.

“It’s… not friendly, Ma’am,” one of the technicians muttered.

Gilda furrowed her brow. “They need air support, and they need it now.” She lifted one of her forelegs up and pointed with her claw at the screen. “Call in emergency surgical strike package Luna at hostile location. Dedicated forces, roll in!”

Pipsqueak continued to run, explosions blasting near him as the metallic monster continued to unleash fire. He took cover behind a rock, yelling over the radio, “Kent! Get everyone out of here!”

“Localized assets, report hangar bay zulu, immediately!” a gruff, male voice sounded off throughout the station. She rushed through the airlock, alarms blaring out in a deafening manner, complete with strobing orange lights.

Coordinated chaos inside the hanger, people ran towards every direction, Colonial Guardsmen getting ready for battle. “Go, haul flank!” a sergeant yelled out, directing his squad inside a dropship.

She climbed onto her fighter, strapping herself to the seat, which stabbed her spinal cord with multiple neural links. Once done, and as she closed the cabin, she looked over to her right, where another fighter lay docked. “Darkstar, are you ready?”

“Ready as can be!” her wingman yelled out.

With her hooves, she began pressing the buttons meant to light up the vehicle. “Engine: online,” the fighter’s VI called out as the thrusters heated up. “Sensors: online.” The display in the cockpit lit up like christmas. “Weapons: ready.” With a few mental commands, she spun the GAU Twenty autocannon at the nose of her plane.

“Lance one, Darkstar one, you’re both ready to lift off. Move it!”

“Copy!” the landing pad turned red hot as she applied more thrust to her engines, lifting the fighter off of it. She adjusted her position in the seat and turned off the vertical thrust, compensating it with forward force. The fighter soon left the station, going through the hangar’s energy field and onto New Earth’s orbit.

“Passing through low orbit,” Darkstar called out.

“Copy, Gryphs. Target zone is Killbox Delta. Ground team’s requesting full fire support. Don’t hold back.”

“Gryphs in the area,” said the pony piloting the fighter as she flew over the border of Zebrica. “Darkstar status?”

“Receiving strike location…” said her wingman. “Three hundred kilometers forward.”

“Copy, copy,” she replied.

“Sir!” Mirror called out over the radio. “Friendlies incoming!”

“Get that thing marked!” Kent yelled. Soon after, the machine was lit up with laser sights.

It continued to fire mercilessly upon him. Pipsqueak slowed down to a halt and turned around as the angry roars of Colonial Guard fighters reached his ears, just in time for him to see a barrage of projectiles and missiles hit their target.

As the smoke cleared out, the Commander was able to see the machine break out from the cloud, barely even scratched.

“Target area not clean,” a voice said over his intercom. “Station Shockwave, use M.A.R.S rounds. Crack the sky.”

A flash of light above the clouds, an orbital strike breaking the sky apart.