General Mason

General Mason

General Mason

General Mason straightened his uniform for what felt like the ninetieth time that minute, every movement he made making another crease he had to rid himself of, and the only way to do that was to move. And so another crease appeared. He thought the title over and over to himself, not to save himself from forgetting his very identity, but in the hope that somehow it would aid him in projecting it. He needed his authority, his stature to be known as clear as day, he needed to emanate it. He tugged at his sleeve as another crease appeared around his elbow, and then another around his shoulder. The dark grey of his uniform held light in a very elegant way, it let it flow over him with almost a surreal fluidity, emphasizing every sharp corner, every curve and imperfection. And every crease.

A part of Mason despised the crease, despised how it gave his form imperfection, how it ruined his sharpness and distorted the very aesthetic of his uniform. Yet in another way he needed another crease to appear, he needed to busy himself with a task, even a task as minuscule as smoothing out a simple groove upon his blazer. It was a very smart blazer. The collar sat flat against his neck, trimmed with an even darker rubber with a pair of indentations running its length all the way around his neck. A wealth of different shades of red and orange danced across the left of his upper chest in the fashion of several horizontal stripes sat above two rows of holographic medals. Also red. Also orange.

A knocking came from his door.

"Come in!" Mason called out, his tone calm and simple.

A single security soldier stepped through the door as it slid to the side, concealing itself within its wall.

"General, Sir! The meeting is about to begin, your presence is requested at the bridge." The soldier saluted before informing the general, his form utterly solid.

"Thank you Corporal, dismissed." Mason replied, his eyes still glued to the mirror sat before him.

The soldier saluted once more before sharply turning and marching out of the Generals quarters. Mason took a breath, destroying one last crease before turning his attention to his facial appearance. His dark hair remained clean and well combed back, just as he'd left it five minutes earlier. His eyes were small, soft eyes that seemed to be in a consistent state of lax, not that it impaired the General at all, but others had said that he always had this look about him that he was daydreaming. His strong jaw was a strange sight among his kind, making him appear very much like a bit of a caveman, but he didn't mind, sometimes he sure felt like one.

General Henry Mason gave his blazer one last tug before heading out his quarters and to the bridge.

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"General on deck!" Announced the superior of deck security who stood by the entrance door, his hand quickly snapping to his brow in a salute.

Mason stopped a second after his third step into he bridge, taking just that tiny moment to take in his surroundings. The immediate bridge was a level platform surrounded by a strong, thickly built railing barrier. Below the barrier was a second level that payed home to twenty computer terminals that controlled ship-wide systems and kept a close watch over the colossal vessels status.

The UTF carrier, the Frontier of Reason, was a magnificent testament to the UTFs might, it's utter superiority. The ship was twenty kilometers end to end, a giant block of grey in an ocean of diamond speckled darkness. The heavy carrier was second only the the colossal Dreadnought super-ships, but its class was still considered the tip of the sear when concerning space engagements. Boasting ten tesla-conductor cannons, twenty nuclear warhead silos with each fully loaded with ten missiles, two adjustable ion cannons, thirty rail-accelerator cannons and enough defense turret to plough a small country, the carrier was the ultimate off switch to any conflict.

Then why is it here? Though Mason.

The General descended a short set of metal grill stairs and stepped up to the holographic table at the center of the platform. From this position he could see the rest of the bridge, a vast expanse easily the size of a public pool, host to dozens of command consoles and data terminals. A hundred staff busied themselves about the command deck, all firmly submerged in their work. Mason took note of those already assembled about the neon orange table, six officers all in formal dress.

First was First Commander Nehdela Mula, a tall man of dark flesh, strong features, shaved head and sincere expression. He held himself with a respectable level of self awarness, not enough to make him appear arrogant, but so much that his very posture announced 'I am here, I am proud'.

Next was Nicholas Chang, second lieutenant and commander of the UTF forces stationed within the location known as Manehatten. His build was fair and solid, yet he had a distinct wideness to his shoulders and chest. Whereas Mula has only two bio-circuits running straight backwards from the far corners of his eyes, Chang had dozens, making him appear as if overflowing with bio-digital data. In a way it made his well rounded and smooth features appear sharper and more radical. He stood with a strange form of lifelessness, yet was not the kind that relaxed the body but instead much like one would expect when observing a statue.

Captain Sirahbid Muhahlah, commander of the Frontier stood with his palms rested upon the surface of the holo-table. His skin was unlike most others, comparably fully of color next to the deathly white of Chang. Bio-circuit ran down his forehead like freshly fallen rainwater, aglow with a healthy orange. His body language spoke of many hours of sleepless work, his expression heavy with exhaustion. Mason understood Muhahlahs' tiredness, he'd been aboard the Frontier for a solid month and he'd seen the man run a marathon around the ship at least six times. The man was dedicated and hard working.

Natalie Rsenomena was representing Doctor Kliener, who had announced he was too busy with his work on the surface of Epona to join the meeting aboard the carrier. The doctor before him was a lady of small build, full features and graceful Bio-circuits that complimented her features remarkably well. She was dressed in formal civilian clothing rather than the uniform shared among the officers about her, which made her look a touch out of place, like some sort of half-welcome bystander.

The next face Mason new far too well, General Solavona Dragovich. The guy was built solid as stone, his face rounded and full, yet splashed with various scars. His expression was a strange mix of being stern and at the same time somewhat mildly amused by something, as if he was always in the middle of a funny thought. His head was shaved clean which showed of a fair few circuits that lay there glowing their fiery red. He was by far the oldest there, pushing fifty, but everyone knew there'd be no ridding of him until he was a smoldering corpse on some battlefield, the man preferred to command from the front line.

And lastly, stood next to Dragovich like a lapdog, was Sergeant Major Lambert Kelly. He was the only one not dressed in clean cut, freshly ironed uniform, instead he wore full battledress. He appeared much like a common assault trooper, only his armour plate was a blood red and was gifted with extra cuts of conde-carb kevlar, to ensure that Dragovichs' favorite pet didn't go get himself hurt. Being completely honest, Mason had never gotten a good look at Kellys' face, which didn't surprise him too much seeing as how the guy was practically a 23rd fanboy. Kelly had a reputation for acquiring the services of the shady assassins far too often for it to be considered entirely necessary, a habit Mason was beginning to notice had been passed to Dragovich himself.

"Ah, my friend, Mason! Please, come join us." Captain Muhalah waved Mason, showing he was relieved someone he'd known for longer than the last four minutes had arrived.

The other officers all seemed to assess Mason, their calm eyes scanning over him for just a fraction of a second before returning to the holo-table.

"I do believe that is everyone now. So, I believe the spotlight now goes to General Dragovich. Al yours, sir." Muhalah announced, stepping aside for Dragovich and his lacky to fill the center point of one of the tables widest edges.

Dragovich took a second to quickly load up a holographic display upon the glassy surface of the display table. Upon the pool of neon orange was summoned a spectral representation of Equestria, the country the federation found so interesting as to devote an entire planetary defensive detachment to watch over it. The smooth surface of ionized light particles formed a sculpture of a vast and graceful landscape, a beautiful mix of rolling hill, swift rivers and monumental mountains. Icons and text highlighted cities, town and UTF facilities, civilian compatible structures highlighted with a hammer and sickle icon, military posts with a gas masked helmet.

"Good afternoon everyone, I hope your stay has been a comfortable one. I will deliver my own personal report and overview on operation REDSTORM, and when I am finished I shall take a moment to hear all of your own. So where to begin? I guess it'd be sensible to start with the obvious and unnecessary. UTF personnel fatality is still at an applaudable zero, energy expenditure including feul and life support systems are well within acceptable levels, maintenance and facility quality is in the green and all the paperwork is flowing nicely."

"Now, onto troop morale. Most of you would believe the men planet side would be in a fair mood as they would be in any other operation. This is the case in most military stations, and would be for all of them if not for some very apparent difficulties a handful of towns have been experiencing. As you are fully aware the indigenous population, the Equestrians, have for the most part been rather easily influenced and accepting of the reason and progress we have to offer them. Reports from locations such as Manehattan, Fillydelphia-"

Mason noted how a couple of the officers gave a slight snort of amusement at the names of the cities. The general kept his face disciplined and calm.

"-and Trottingham suggest that the Equestrians have gladly accepted the new regime. The privileged, prideful and materialistic have been all but evicted or disposed of, meaning production and benefit can be initiated smoothly and immediately after the next quarterly tax collection."

The officers gave a series of nods and mutters of approval. Mason remained still and silent.

"However, stations at Ponyville, Canterlot and the ground generator complex beneath Cloudsdale have all provided increasingly disturbing reports. The condensed light collection facilities are functional and since the last...incident, have been installed with stationary overshield generators. I'd like to see those pastel-colored maniacs try the same trick twice now."

Trust you to think they'll stop there Thought Mason.

"Ponyville has its very own 'masked vigilante' running around causing havok. We have a pretty solid idea who she is, but me and some of the feds floating about have agreed it's best she be arrested and charged with her crimes in the right way, at the right time, so we'll wait until she makes a mistake. Then we'll show all of the town what happens to enemies of reason."

Mason, Natalie and Muhalah did not nod in firm agreement like the others upon hearing Dragovichs' divine scheme. Muhalah failed in this due to his goliath effort into suppressing a much needed yawn. That guy really needed some sleep.

"Canterlot has been more of a waste of time than actual trouble. Trying to reform that damn fairy castle is like trying to turn a rock into a sponge. I see no further need to invest any more resources on the location, so it'd be best to break the morale of those royal snobs over the next few weeks and let the hard working mares and stallions of the larger cities take the castle for themselves, perhaps with some aid from our own forces; seal the deal with their society and our own. But beyond these small bumps in the road, reforming this planet has been a breeze and our swift success is something you have all made possible. So an applause to all present, thank you everyone for your hard work!" Dragovich announced, first to the officers and then turning to the dozens of staff about the bridge, granting everyone a small applause that spread like wildfire about the command center.

Mason gave his own applause as well, perhaps not as enthusiastically as Dragovich and certainly not those who whooped and whistled, but still a sincere one. Everyone had worked hard, working around the clock to kick start the much needed revolution these primitives needed. A lot of lives had been made a lot better, entire cities becoming more beneficent for the people that lived there.

But not everyone was happy.

Not everyone had made it to this point.

The sacrifice was necessary The words echoed through Masons' skull for what seemed like a century.

The following reports seemed to just repeat what Dragovich had just said, only in finer detail. Shipping schedules, supply counts, civilian identification, civilian labor records, tax records, education results. Mason kept a rough tab on everything said, though he was really just waiting for his chance too speak, for certain things had so far remained unsaid. Next was Muhalah.

"Soooo...uh, I'd say everything has been going well, though I cannot remain silent on how taxing the work up here has been. Hours are long and sleep has become something of a privilege. This toil is mostly focused on the comms deck and the staff there; you guys really like making a lot of long phone calls back home and it's proving a chore for our personnel and systems. Just last week I myself had to help a ten man team replace a burnt out signal coil because so many high yield messages have been made. I'm by no means saying to stop delivering the federation its much needed reports on our work here, but it'd be handy if everyone in your departments could just try cutting down on the number of unnecessary video logs and photo stacks; I'm sure the feds don't need forty pictures of moss and woodlice."

Mason was guilty of such insensitivity. He hadn't truly considered what his reports had done to the relay systems and staff maintaining them. To imagine what a thousand times his usual report of twenty terabytes was doing to the comm amplifiers, it would mean the teams up here would have to change a coil every two days, and considering they take twenty four hours to replace it meant the teams would be looking at possibly two or even three days without sleep or rest.

"Weapon systems are still cool and have remained unused since Appleoosa. I'm expecting a new ion core for two of this ships own guns, the feedback residue has been piling up recently in the main drives. If you spend any time in the other ships, make sure the captains are keeping a close eye on their own guns, the last thing we need is our guns blowing out a hundred tons of toxic ooze instead of actually firing anything."

Muhalah finished up and stepped down, allowing the doctor to speak her own story. Before beginning she unfolded and activated a digital tablet to read from, shedding light on how this was quite the alien situation for her.

"Right, well, firstly I'd like to voice Doctor Klieners' deepest regrets having not been able to attend this gathering. He assures everyone present that his work is more than worth his absence, crucial and troublesome work needs to be overlooked for the next few days."

"The planet side laboratory complex has made some truly fantastic discoveries. Our studies into the indigenous population of Epona are by far our most intense and highly concerned work as we have delved deep into their unique abilities and biology. Studies have shed a great light on the unicorn talents of telekinesis, matter redistribution and-"

Dragovich cut the doctor off, his rough, rumbling voice drowning out her own.

"Yes, yes Doctor, we all know the pretty ponies can pick stuff up with their horns. Shadow squad has already covered the work your team still picks away at even today. Are there not better things to busy yourself with other than science that has already been solved?" The general growled.

The doctor couldn't help but roll her eyes at the generals arrogance.

"General I assure you that our work runs deeper than the shallow observations made by a group of psychopaths and their 'WikiFed' goggles! Yes, the....first contact team made some very clean cut discoveries and provided them with very solid but very short sighted theories -"

"Facts, Doctor, facts." Dragovich shot at the doctor, Kelly crossing his arms next to the general.

"....Yet these theories have been made by UTF technology and by our own species, limiting our perception of these discoveries by...well, our own perception. There still remains missing reactions, gaps in the math that throw the entire calculation off center. Recently, Doctor Xi discovered that what we thought was an electromagnet conductor in the unicorn horns is only an emitter, an amplifier for a much more elusive energy signature that we, quite frankly, are having great difficulty pinning down with numbers. We'll continue to draw up formulas but we're currently looking at a decade long scientific investment judging by how deep this science goes. Even then, this may only be a fraction of the true answer we're looking for."

"Very well, conduct your experiments to your hearts content. Now, what about what we really want to know about?" Mula piped up in a sharp tone.

Natalie gave a sigh before continuing. She flicked her fingers at her tablet and then at the holo-table to bring up a light sculpture of a very exotic looking firearm, like a coil gun but with much of its outer chassis shed.

"The experimental weapons division is proceeding with more...'solid' results. Although we have only cooked up the basic formula for larger scale weapons, the first batch of prototype Xeron AA-62 rifles have been fabricated and firmly tested a number of times. Though we, thankfully, haven't tested the firearms on living test subjects, we can estimate the weapons effect on the energy signatures of the Equestrians. The semi-automatic rifle has a maximum effective range of around sixty feet, a range we feel we could double in the next two years. The rounds begin as solid containers that are charged and travel along the barrel of the weapon, once at the end of the barrel the round discharges and the casing disintegrates to release the energy pulse held inside."

"The effects when hitting an Equestrian target are quite odd. The target should feel no pain directly, but the round essentially destroys the elusive energy signature meshed into the bio-fabric of the being. The individual first experiences severe numbness, exhaustion, temporary blindness and looses the ability to string together coherent thought for a few seconds. Beyond that the individual is expected to loose their pre-determined pigment blemish, their 'cutie mark', and loose their ability to excel in whatever the mark dictated they be proficient in. Unicorns will loose the ability to use their talents, Pegasi loose their weather manipulation abilities and the earth ponies loose a portion of their overall strength and energy that influences biomatter around them. These effects wear off after a period of ten years or so, but they are very solid as long as they are in effect."

The officers all looked very pleased with the new product being displayed, a new toy to let the troops play with. Mason himself was looking forward to seeing the weapon in action, though feared the infantry might see it as more of a tool similar to pepper spray or stun baton. This thing was very much a weapon, it caused a very potent kind of damage to the mind of the victim, being essentially made useless with but the squeeze of a trigger.

"That'll be all doctor. So, where do we go from here? First we finish all scheduled work set out for the next quarter, and seal up any loose assets along the way. Then we start moving our military forces into all cities and towns, supporting the local revolutions and dealing with whatever the federation supporters can't. These people haven't seen terrorism like we have, so they won't know how to effectively deal with acts of terrorism. So, as minor as these acts might be, our forces will repel them so the majority of the work goes to the natives." The general emphasized his plan with a series of hand gestures, everyone paying close attention to the details of the plan that followed.

"And so, this plan will be lead by General Masons' forces. Mason, if you would." Dragovich gestured to the table, his gaze fixed on Masons' own.

"My forces will act as the spearhead for this operation, we'll head into the cities and stick close behind the civilian crowds. As we proceed we'll set up defensive choke-holds inside the buildings overlooking the streets, making sure no one who wishes to deal damage to the crowds from behind. The forces following us in are to be stopped at the checkpoints we set up and re-briefed on the status of the upcoming sector even if they learn nothing new. The last thing I want is troops mowing down a crowd of civies because their intel says the sector is a hot-spot for rebels, and I don't give a shit how many men whinge and whine about how tedious this process is. In fact, every time a guy starts bitching the officer giving the briefing has to start over, consider that a federal law when participating in this operation."

"Ah, Mason, thorough as ever. I'm sure such precautions are quite unnecessary. Our men can surely handle a primitive situation like this." Dragovich chuckled, echoed by most of the other officers, even Muhalah.

"Strange that it's a situation we're so familiar with then? Right?" Mason swiftly shot back.

Dragovichs' full, strong face slowly seemed to melt, the humor and superiority dripping away to reveal a much more basic sneer.

"I want a full report on every trooper, every gun and vehicle we have. I'll cut up the numbers and send you the requests within the week. Just get me details on our forces." Mason finished.

"Right then, best we all get to it. I have my men to see to, I'm sure you have your own." Dragovich announced before marching off, Kelly in close tow.

Mason knew where the general was headed, who....what he was going to summon. Mason made for his own destination at a quick walk, hearing the speedy steps of Muhalah rushing to keep up.

"They came aboard yesterday Mason, they brought enough firepower to level an amusement park. They're obviously here to put a heel down on the social targets." Muhalah talked as though he'd just run a marathon.

"Thank you Captain. I'm gonna get the word to the big guys, I need you to keep things solid here. And for goodness sake man, get some damn sleep." Mason said without pause, keeping his pace solid.

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

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".....And you can assure me a one hundred percent success rate along with a minimal clean up record."

"Yes, General. No collateral damage, minimal civilian casualties and a zero witnesses through each operation. We'll keep up the theatrics, get them real scared real fuckin' quick. There won't be a native on the streets after dark for the next century after we're done."

The shadowy figures voice was a monotone buzz, a digital mutter that could be easily understood, but was difficult to grasp with any sense of comfort.

Dragovich liked this very much.

"I want every native with a wallet fatter than my fist to be either throwing gold at the nearest educated worker or feed them bullets." Dragovich said with a tense tone.

The shadow cracked his knuckles.

"With pleasure, General."

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"Great, playing moral tennis with the gouls. Fuckin' great."

The giant pulled his mass up once more towards the steel bar. His muscles worked with little stress or flaw, working fluidly as if he was light as a feather.

"Unfortunately, yes. Captain, I know your Olympians have been kept in this quiet corner of the universe for a while now, but this is important. No heated combat, no skull crushing, you just gotta act the poster boys for now." Mason said to the giant who dropped to the metal floor with a thud, turning to face the general.

"No worries, General, we got you covered. I'm gonna want to get my boys fully stocked up on equipment though, don't want to caught with our pants down if things decide to explode into an all out conflict."

"It won't come to that...I hope. And sure thing, consider the armory open. Thank, Theo." Mason said giving the Olympian a firm grin.

The Olympian, the master of combat itself calmly marched over to the general. The augmented soldier stood at 7'2'', towering over Masons' 6'1''. His muscles were outlined by the flow of his bio-suit, a mesh of bio-synthetic muscle weave that acted as a second skin. His mass was thick and extremely well toned, his build solid. The soldiers face was of dark flesh, the darkest Mason had ever seen. His face was a maze of circuitry that burnt a surreal yellow as if his skin was splitting apart through failing to contain such raw power beneath. His eyes were a pale blue, his small pupils standing out all the more, making him appear almost undead.

"My pleasure, sir."