Clockwork stood before the Vikare, him and the rest of the team fully equipped to deal with the threats of the desert as well as the enemy. Clockwork, Charger and Mganga, the newest member of the team, were almost unrecognizable, for they were all wrapped from head to hoof in loose, grey robes. Switcher though, looked no different than when Clockwork had seen him last, though he had likely taken a shower and restocked on chemicals. His armor, years of advanced training, and surprisingly durable exoskeleton granted him several extra layers of layer of protection from the inevitable hot sands they would soon encounter. For now, they had said their goodbyes to their teammates onboard Szary, Clockwork had kissed his marefriend goodbye and Haywire had hugged him so tightly he felt as though his ribs may have cracked from the pressure. He would’ve laughed at the shocking levels of affection, but now wasn’t the time nor place. Now was the time to focus on the adventure ahead, but for that they’d need a leader. Luckily, he had just shown up, fully armored this time sans his helmet as always.

“Alright everypony, here’s where we stand. On my signal, Nimbus will teleport Szary to an area of the midland desert approximately four or five clicks away from Dodge Junction. Like Zebrica, we’ll be providing relief supplies to help our wounded bison allies recover from the invasion of Appleloosa. Now, I’d just like to remind everypony what we’re up against, and why we are to take the opposition very seriously. Switcher, if you would.”

“Ahem.” the undisguised changeling took his place at the commander’s side. “I understand that I should have made you all aware of this the day you joined Meteor, but I must place the safety of my home before everything else. However, the situation calls for the declassification of this information. Several years after the failed invasion of Canterlot, my people were forcefully expelled from the Capital city to lands unknown. Tired and hungry, we wandered the wastes for many months before coming upon the birthplace of our ancestors, the original changeling hive. The best translation in Equuish is Tir Na Bog, and the sight ignited something within my people that saved them from extinction. Specifically, we no longer required other lifeforms’ love to feed off of; we became a self-sustaining society, and gained individual sentience shortly afterwards.”

Clockwork almost took a step back at this revelation, but knew that the changeling wasn’t finished.

“However, this transition did not go smoothly, and a rogue faction quickly developed within the hive. My people, The Pure, deemed them the Corrupted. The Corrupted desperately clung to the old ways of sustaining themselves through the theft of others' feelings, namely the strongest such as fear and anger, and became warped shells of their former people’s glory as a result. There was no civil war, no bloodshed, merely begrudging understanding. Out of mercy, Mother Chrysalis allowed them to leave, but they did not do so without inflicting a single casualty. As they left, the Corrupted stole Chrysalis’ first daughter egg, the one destined to be the next queen. My people believe it is this queen that is controlling the Corrupted through a hive mentality, and is able to birth miniature queens similar to the one Clockwork and Charger fought underneath the Consortium base in Zebrica.”

Clockwork and Charger looked to each other in understanding. So that’s what that. . . thing was.

“I can say no more, but I am telling you all this because the Corrupted have been confirmed assisting the Supremacy, and have made their presence quite known on this front. They prefer numbers to strength, and it is through said numbers that they succeeded in helping a large griffon force push all allied soldiers out of Appleloosa.”

“So we are to fight both elitist winged abominations as well as the demented shadows of your people. Is that correct?” Mganga asked.

“Bingo.” Long Shot retook the helm. “They can convert a city into a hive in a matter of weeks and can also reproduce at a much faster rate than the Pure, so expect to keep your weapon barrels hot. We’re being sent instead of a large counter offensive force because numbers are pointless here, it’s about spray and pray as well as unconventional warfare. Meteor Squad’s two primary objectives are to take out what we believe is a prototype Railgun under the control of the Supremacy and to assist in the retaking of Appleloosa by any means possible. The apple orchards there are some of the largest in the kingdom, so securing them will help get badly needed foodstuffs to soldiers out fighting on the front lines. Any questions?”

“No sir!”

“Anyone feel like sitting this one out?” the Nocturni asked with a smirk.

“SIR NO SIR!”

“That’s what I like to hear. Everyone load up!”

Without another word, the five soldiers entered the Vikare and struggled to get comfortable amongst the multiple large crates of food and ammunition. From what Clockwork had heard, the Bison, while large and seemingly unwieldy, were some of the best when it came to warfare. They had probably packed up everything and retreated in an orderly fashion without losing more than a few soldiers at most. The pegasus smiled as he pressed himself farther back into his seat, a familiar spike of adrenaline running up his spine as he heard Long Shot call out to Nimbus to send them in. He felt a little more comfortable fighting now, knowing all too well that he was defending his home, and was looking forward to seeing the immense beasts in action. Quite frankly, he was glad they were on his side.

“Hey,” Charger’s sweet voice rang in Clockwork’s left ear. “you’re shivering. You okay?”

Clockwork nodded, wiping his brow when he felt sweat accumulating on it. “Yeah, it’s just always a little nerve-wracking, the moments before getting dropped into another battle, you know?”

The earth pony mare nodded, removing one of her gloves and holding out her right hoof as she did. “You can hold on if you want. I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

Clockwork sat there for a moment, dumbfounded. He must’ve looked ridiculous, for Charger only giggled and turned away as he grasped for a response.

The pegasus hesitated for a moment before he took the mare’s hoof, and almost gasped when he realized that it was easily the softest thing he had felt in his entire life. His nervousness disappeared completely as Charger tightened her grip ever so slightly, to which Clockwork responded in kind. Was this legal if he was already in a relationship?

Clockwork turned his efforts towards taking slow, deep breaths as a familiar purple fog enveloped everything. After a few long moments of his nostrils being filled with that familiar sickly sweet smell, it vanished in an instant and the Vikare roared to life. Szary’s bay door parted as the dropship’s bay door closed itself tight. Clockwork felt the momentum of the ship lifting itself from the floor and propelling forward. In moments, the ship was clear of its parent vessel. Said zeppelin was wrapped in the purple fog of teleportation magic and disappeared once more

Clockwork raised an eyebrow at the sudden departure before looking to his commander. “Long Shot, have there been any estimates as to this Railgun's effective range or accuracy?”

Long Shot shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If that thing can take out a frigate with one round at close range, then it could probably cause some serious damage at real artillery ranges. It makes sense for Szary to stay as far away from wherever that thing is as it can. I doubt that thing can lock onto, track, and take out a single dropship no matter the range.”

The pegasus, after looking over his team, sighed. “What are our numbers in terms of force?”

“I looked over the personnel documents earlier,” Mganga explained, “approximately three hundred bison were in or around Appleloosa at the time of the Supremacy invasion. Very few casualties on the buffalo’s part were sustained, though many of them were injured in their evacuation to Dodge Junction.”

“How are three hundred bison able to fit in Dodge Junction? From what I remember, that city isn’t very large; the cherry orchards actually take up most of its area,” Charger mused.

“The Bison Clans have their own areas of residence, teepees and such. Three hundred could easily set up residence outside of either Dodge Junction or Appleloosa. Such a form of shelter would also allow the buffalo to form a protective wall around the city, almost certainly ensuring no successful ground assault,” Switcher answered.

Clockwork chuckled through his nose. “You guys think we’ll pull it off? Three hundred and six soldiers against Celestia knows how many griffon soldiers, Corrupted drones plus their super fancy new weapon, three supposedly invincible warriors, and their no surrender, no prisoners policy?”

“You make it sound like they have a fair chance.” Long Shot laughed, that familiar, determined smile present at the edge of his mouth. “I fought with bison before, and they're tough sons of broodmares. We fix up the bison, destroy that Railgun, and take back Appleloosa before tomorrow’s dinner!”

Before anypony could respond to the Commander’s shouts, a shrill alarm broke out from the cockpit. The pilot’s voice followed not a second later. “Nonononono! Projectile fired and heading towards us! Banking right!”

Nopony could react before the gravity inside the ship caused the squad to be pressed farther into their seat cushions than originally believed possible. After what seemed like hours of the unrelenting pressure, Clockwork noticed the edges of his vision darken. He wanted to ask what the hay was going on, what had fired at them, if they were going to make it.

The pilot emitted a strained, “Clever. . . bastards!”

And then all Tartarus broke loose.

A loud metallic ripping sound blasted through the ship as the cockpit literally disappeared before the squad’s eyes. Said eyes instinctively shut as a sandly blast of hot desert air shot through the bay. Shreds of metal were flushed out of the ship, and one by one the crates followed. Clockwork wanted to puke as he felt his stomach rise, courtesy of the plummeting dropship in which he was still sitting.

“EVERYPONY BAIL!” Long Shot yelled as he tore himself from his seat and was subsequently sucked out of the ship. His voice could still be heard clearly in the squad’s ears thanks to their radios. “Well, you guys wanna become pony pancakes or earn your skydiving licenses in the field?! MOVE!”

The squad members quickly ripped themselves from their seats and were sucked out of the ship with little effort. After a few seconds, Clockwork was the only pony left inside. His seatbelt was jammed, and the damned thing showed no sign of giving up its struggle. Clockwork tasted bile in his throat, dear Celestia was the ship’s hull spinning now?!

“Kid! No matter how strong your wing is it can’t shield you from an impact at this speed! Switcher’s got Charger, but my magic can’t keep myself, Mganga, and these crates from crashing! GET OUT HERE, SOLDIER! NOW!”

Clockwork shook his head for a moment, desperately trying to clear away the black that was engulfing his field of view. He wrenched his body forward just enough for his left wing to free itself and slice through his restraints like they were butter. Clockwork felt his wing take the impact of something meant for his head as he was pulled out of the dropship by the sheer force of the wind. He struggled to breathe a sigh of relief as he felt his wings unfurl and slow his descent, but moments later he saw his Commander and half a dozen crates of relief supplies fall past him.

“Kid? You want a pancake for a Commander?”

Long Shot’s slightly panicked voice snapped the pegasus out of his state of relief. Clockwork pressed his wings to his body and waited until he was alongside his commander before taking hold of him and unfurling his wings to full length. He felt his wings strain to hold both himself and his heavily armored Commander, but dared not loosen his grip. Long Shot grabbed each crate and Mganga with a light green field of magic and set them on the ground moments before he did the same to himself and his comrade.

Clockwork must’ve bounced at least twice as the semi-solid field of magic neutralized his descent and actually sent him back upwards for a moment.

After making sure that he was firmly on the warm sand that composed the desert ground, the stallion looked behind him and confirmed that his squadmates had landed safely as well. He began to make his way over to them, but his path was cut off as the hull of the ship impacted inches from his nose.

It was a good thing, because Clockwork would’ve hated for his teammates to see him eject his breakfast from his stomach in short order. The stallion panted as he spit out whatever the hay was left in his mouth, and wiped his mouth before standing dumbstruck on shivering legs. He had just cheated death twice. He actually managed to laugh before his team came rushing around to his side.

“Guys, I’m fine. Really.” Clockwork lied as Mganga examined him. “Ya know, I just almost died twice, but who hasn’t these days?”

“He’s fine.” Long Shot glanced inside the Vikare's broken hull. “Can’t say the same for our pilot, though. Dammit.”

“Speaking of which, what the hay hit us?!” Clockwork asked with a shaky voice. “Nopony could see the round until after it was fired, and even though we banked hard it still hit us!”

“Whoever was at the controls of the gun was clever enough to predict our movements and adjust accordingly,” Switcher noted.

Everypony cringed at the cruel irony of almost being killed by the very thing they were sent to destroy. “Commander, how are we to destroy something we cannot see that can shoot us out of the sky from long range with precision accuracy?" Mganga asked.

“I dunno yet, but we’re damn well gonna give it our best,” Long Shot answered as he floated to the top of the downed vessel. He retrieved his long rifle and looked in every direction but towards the sun. “Good news, there’s no signs of life nearby, bad news, that means nopony’s gonna find us for a while.”

Just as Long Shot finished his sentence, a rumbling akin to a single unbroken crack of thunder reached the squad’s ears. When he had looked in the direction of the sound, Clockwork’s eyes went wide at the sight of a massive dust cloud that the stallion had only seen in old historical texts.

Long Shot eyed the growing cloud. “Sandstorm. Big, fast, and heading this way. Everypony inside, the storm will shred us if we stay exposed.”

Nopony even thought of arguing as they filed their way back inside the ship. No sooner had they managed to block off the hole in the ship with the relief crates before the thunder reached its loudest. Clockwork covered his ears to block out what he could, and feared for a moment that he had gone deaf when the thunder came to an abrupt end, leaving only an eerie silence.

The silent question of what had happened went unanswered until a soft yet commanding voice broke the quiet. “Hello! Is anyone alive in there?”

“To be frank, Strongheart,” a second, far gruffer voice replied,“if anything survived that crash, I’m a lamb.”

On Long Shot’s orders, Clockwork pried open a small hole in the crates.

“Then you’re a damned fat lamb!” Long Shot called back after looking through the hole. The commander disassembled the crate wall and was greeted by the battle hardened faces of over a dozen bison. They seemed to be led by a smaller, though no less threatening, female.

“Who are you? How did you survive?” she asked.

“We’re Meteor Squad, the reinforcements you were told to expect. It's an honor to meet the second in command of the United Bison Tribes.” if Long Shot was intimidated by Strongheart, he showed no signs of it. The Nocturni moved to shake the buffalo’s hoof.

The massive bison standing next to Strongheart nearly headbutted Long Shot. Steam essentially poured from his nose. “You didn’t answer her second question. I suggest you do so.”

“Correction, you’re the fattest lambs I’ve ever seen.” Long Shot laughed. “I already answered the second question. We’re Meteor Squad, hit hard hit fast shine bright. Getting shot out of the sky isn't gonna kill us.”

Much to the squad’s surprise, the behemoth unleashed a hearty laugh before patting one of Long Shot’s shoulders. The unicorn’s knees buckled a little with every gentle pat. “As fearless as the stories from the battlefield claim he is!”

“Wait, seriously?” Clockwork asked as he raised his unconsciously conjured wing shield. A few gears clicked into place in the stallion’s head, and something made sense. “How’d you guys respond to our crash so fast?”

“Even bison must patrol their borders. We may be among the most durable creatures in the world, but that doesn’t mean we’re invincible,” Strongheart explained.

Clockwork shrugged, still too tired to formulate any real response. Getting shot at with something bigger than him was a new feeling.

The five bison immediately behind Strongheart knelt down. “You are lucky to have been shot down so close to Dodge Junction, for given the current situation, sandstorms are the least of your worries.”

Strongheart took a moment to look at Switcher, a disquietingly long look at that. “You do deserve to rest. We are more than willing to carry you and the supplies that you brought along.”

“Appreciate it, ma’am.” Long Shot thanked the buffalo before teleporting himself to the top of one of the bison, carefully making sure he was not stepping on its eyes or horns, and promptly settling in on his huge back.

The rest of the squad followed suit, and Clockwork almost passed out as he laid down on the bison that had confronted Long Shot. This guy’s coat felt like a luxury mattress!

As the warriors began their journey to Dodge Junction with their relief supplies in tow, Clockwork feigned sleep when he heard the bison carrying him ask a question.

“Hey, you awake up there?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve heard a lot about your squad, but I don’t remember any mention of names beyond Long Shot. Yours?”

“I’ll trade the squad names for yours, deal?”

“Deal.”

“My name’s Clockwork. The mare with the gloves is Charger. The Changeling is called Switcher; don’t worry though, he’s not hostile. The zebra with the staff and no-nonsense attitude is Mganga. Got all that?”

“Indeed, pony, I can remember names. My own is Bull Rush, by the way. You can just call me Rush if you want.”

Clockwork nodded before dozing off on his back, a small smile on his muzzle. He could get used to this.

Several miles from the crash site, a griffon cannoneer lowered his spyglass. With calm, deliberate motions he scratched another tally mark into his pauldron. That was his fifth kill today.

“My lord.”

The dog turned, its green cloak billowing behind it in the hot wind, revealing the black and gold armor which lay beneath. A solitary Templar stood at attention, its eyes carefully downcast to avoid offending its master. The dog motioned him to speak with a flick of its wrist.

The griffon bowed again, almost touching the ground with his beak.

“My lord,” he repeated, “the scouts have returned. They report that Meteor survived the crash, and are enroute to Dodge Junction. We suspect that-”

He was cut off by the weight of a metal paw pressing down upon his bowed head as his master passed. The gesture was meant to be affectionate, a pat on the head for a job well done, but still he felt the cold trickle of fear run down his spine.

When he was well and truly sure that the master had left, the Templar straightened up, dislodging a scrap of expensive vellum that had somehow found its way into his armor. Curious, he picked it up and unfolded it, revealing the neat, spidery script which lay within.

Alliance counteroffensive imminent. Make all necessary preparations.

~ Echo Ghostclaws

Clockwork was removed from his surprisingly terror-free nap by the sudden halt of Bull Rush’s progress. It was a miracle he didn’t get launched off into the building in front of him. After wearily getting to his hooves and looking around, he realized just how bad the situation was.

Dodge Junction had always been a small town. Even after the industrial revolution, the wild-west looking town had remained a quiet backwater known mostly for its vast orchards and the high-quality cherries said orchards would produce. Very few buildings were present, and even fewer bore the common resemblance of an industrialized nation. To every five bison was a single pony, and all the smaller equines were preoccupied with tending the wounded. Very few guns were visible to Clockwork's passing glances, though that characteristic bronze armor was present on every bison who wasn't being tended to. Other than all that, the desert village appeared untouched by the horrors of war.

"Clockwork, you done sightseeing yet?" Long Shot asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Help me with these crates when you are."

With only a nod, the pegasus helped to lift several of the containers before his commander transported them to the necessary locations. "Sorry again," the Nocturni apologized. "In all my years, I've never been able to progress past basic spells. Everypony has their flaws, I guess."

"It's no trouble at all, commander."

After the duo returned to their original location, they were quickly approached by Strongheart. “I am glad that you all managed to survive that crash unscathed, but I am afraid that you will have to face death twice more if we are to succeed in taking back Appleloosa.”

“Could you explain, ma'am?” Charger asked.

“Follow me. Everything shall be explained soon enough." the female made her way inside what Clockwork had realized was the Town Hall, and the squad plus Bull Rush followed close behind. Clockwork was surprised at how large the structure was, the hallways could’ve held three buffalo shoulder to shoulder. The entire building felt like a relic straight out of a history book, for much like the town's exterior, there were no signs of the steam technology that made up modern Equestria’s inner workings.

The group soon entered a room with large circular table with an equally large map at its center. Opposite the arriving warriors was a massive creature that Clockwork immediately recognized. That headdress and custom made bronze armor was unmistakable. Chief Thunderhooves was present at the other side of the table.

Without even thinking, every member of Meteor Squad saluted the elderly warrior. He returned the gesture in kind with a healthy grunt. Thunderhooves raised an eyebrow when he noticed Switcher. "Hmmph. I've read the reports, but I still find it difficult to believe that a changeling can form complete sentences. My sincerest apologies if any of my brothers attempt to harm you, for the news of your existence is still new to many."

Switcher was a bit. . . something, for Clockwork was unsure whether or not his insectoid companion could even feel anger as he understood it. “In times of war it is necessary to convey information quickly and without fault.”

“Well whaddya know, a changeling that isn’t a mindless flesh eating savage!” Bull Rush cried out as he playfully shoved the changeling. “I like him, boss.”

Thunderhooves gave the bison a look like one would view a puppy with a malformed head, and sighed. “As do I. Now, enough with the pleasantries. I know all of your names and you all know mine, so let’s get straight to it!”

Thunderhooves, Strongheart, and Bull Rush flattened the map so that it lay uncreased. It wasn’t a map of the entirety of Equestria though, just the desert portion of the land. The pegasus was surprised at how barren everything seemed, even with Equestria’s tendency to make things seem just a bit more wonderful than they really were.

“Appleloosa was lost, but not without struggle; we fought valiantly, but no one escaped injury before we evacuated to Dodge Junction.” Thunderhooves explained. “If it weren’t for that new magnetic cannon of theirs and their seemingly endless supply of insect cannon fodder, the Supremacy wouldn’t have taken the city.”

“Speaking of which, do you have any information on said weapon?” Charger asked. “The pre-mission briefing was scarce on details.”

“We know the Supremacy uses the railways scattered across the desert to transport it. That much is clear. In an effort to limit its movement, we destroyed any railways nearby to grant the Supremacy no clean entrance to Dodge Junction.”

Mganga rolled her eyes. “Chieftain, the squad has already received a large majority of this information. Do you have anything new, such as its size, speed, reload time or clear capabilities?”

“That’s the problem. The way the Railgun operates, we have no way to detect it, well, not without following the trail of bodies it leaves behind.” Strongheart’s tone had become disturbingly grim.

Long Shot raised an eyebrow. “We were informed that the bison had suffered minimal casualties during the exodus of Appleloosa. Did we miss something?”

Bull Rush sighed as he made his way to stand alongside his comrades. “The last thing a buffalo wants to do is acknowledge the death of a teammate, especially if it wasn’t a struggle.”

“Chief, what happened?” Clockwork asked, half-dreading the possible answer.

“We patrol our borders to ensure the safety of the city. It should be harmless work. Unfortunately, when a patrol goes out, sometimes it never returns.”

“Chief Thunderhooves, I understand that the topic at hoof may be difficult to discuss, but Meteor Squad needs every piece of information relevant to the current situation if we are to succeed,” Switcher added.

“The railways we did not destroy in our evacuation have been the weapon's primary method of transportation. However, the only indication that it's even present is a single patch of land where my brothers enter but never leave. There are no signs of struggle, no indications of a missed shot. All that is left of the bison is red mist. Hence, the patch of land has been unofficially dubbed Red Sand Stretch.”

“You’re telling me this thing shows up, turns your warriors to nothing, and leaves before anypony can react?” Clockwork inquired.

“I’ve lost far too many warriors to an enemy that is too cowardly to show itself!” Thunderhooves snorted.

“Hmm. . .” Clockwork pressed a forehoof to his chin. Something didn’t make sense. Even if the Railgun could render itself invisible, the sound of a single blast would attracted anypony nearby, and when they showed up, such a massive machine was flat out gone? The pegasus’ eyes lit up as a theory hit him. As crazy as it sounded, it must’ve had some truth to it.

“Gems, I think,” he muttered.

“What?” everypony else asked.

“Whatever this thing is, I think the Supremacy is using gems to power a majority of its functions. Something this big and powerful couldn’t be moving as fast as it does using steam as a propulsion source. So, it's either using some sort of gem to power itself, or it’s using onyx to cloak itself while it trudges along.”

“What does a black rock have to do with this?” Strongheart asked.

“Before Valor Point, Meteor Squad had a run in with a griffon stealth team," Long Shot explained. "They went down easily, but it took some effort to find them. They used suits dotted with onyx to cloak themselves and attack unseen. Maybe that’s what the Supremacy’s using to cloak their new toy?”

The room took on an eerie silence as the individuals inside contemplated the stallions' words. Eventually, Switcher broke the silence. “The commander's memory serves him well. Yes, while I am not an expert on gems and their specific functions, onyx’s sole militaristic use is to hide that which it is attached to from any and all sight and sound through the application if electricity. That is why you have never heard the cannon’s echoing boom or its engines roaring.”

“Even Nocturni night vision can’t pick it up,” Long Shot added. “So if the thing’s completely cloaked and we know its routes. . . why not put a tracer on it? We can follow it where it goes and destroy it when we have a clean shot.” the Commander’s pupils shrunk. “Except, we wouldn’t be able to put a tracer on it if we can’t find it.”

“Wait a second.” Clockwork raised a robed hoof. “What’s the nightly temperature in the desert this time of year?”

“Warm, very warm, why?” Bull Rush asked.

“My plan’s a stretch, but why the hell not? Long Shot, Bull Rush and I head out to Red Sand Stretch, look for any major distortion in the heat waves, and plant a tracer in front of where they come from. I don’t know of any gems used for locomotive propulsion, so the cannon would likely need to use steam to move itself, and steam gives off a lot of heat.”

“. . .How old are you?” Chief Thunderhooves asked.

“Going on nineteen or twenty I think. I haven't really been able to keep track of stuff like that lately,” Clockwork replied with a small, embarrassed grin.

“It seems the next generation of warriors will keep our land safe when we leave it.” the massive bison grinned. He turned to his comrade beside him. “Rush, prepare your equipment and ready for a battle. As soon as the sun sets, you go with Clockwork. Protect him and his comrade with your life.”

“On it, boss.”

Clockwork took another peek through Long Shot’s scope before handing it back to his Commander. They had been out here for hours, maybe. Bull Rush made no attempt to hide his frustration, while Long Shot stayed absolutely silent.

“Red Sand Stretch” certainly lived up to its name. Even in the near perfect darkness, Clockwork could still notice the crimson hue the local sand had been colored. He shivered, wondering how many buffalo had lost their lives here. Ten? Twenty? Fifty or more?”

“Look alive. We’ve got company.” Long Shot’s voice jolted Clockwork back to the present.

“What? Where?” I don’t see any distortion changes, and I’ve lived in this desert my entire life!” Rush half-shouted.

“Shhhh!” Clockwork pressed his metal wing over the bison’s mouth. “Just because we can’t see or hear them doesn’t mean they can’t see or hear us!”

After some grumbling, Bull Rush settled down, an unimpressed frown across his muzzle. Suddenly, the entire world lit up with purple and gold, and a thin wisp far off in the distance turned a bright yellow, standing out from the purple backdrop of the midland desert.

“What in the spirits’ name is this?” Rush asked.

“I cast my night vision over the both of ya so you could see what the hay we’re looking for. Clock, how far up should I aim? For all we know this thing could be flat sans the cannon.”

“I'd say a few meters is a safe bet. If those distortions are anything to go by, this thing’s engines are massive."

"Got it." Long Shot retrieved a single, surprisingly small, bullet from a pouch on his armor. Under his night vision, the tip glowed a brilliant orange. "Tracer round, hits, sticks, and glows for days on end. Now, let's see what we're dealing with."

Long Shot held his breath for just a moment, squeezed the trigger, and breathed out. The tracer round hit precisely where he seemed, and seemed to be flying through the air of its own accord. It had stuck and was glowing almost as bright as a full moon. "Now we follow it, let's move."

Clockwork and Long Shot climbed aboard Bull Rush, knowing full well that the bison was the only one of them that had the strength and stamina to carry two full armored comrades and keep pace with the train. And kept pace he did, staying a safe distance from the tracer as the followed the train for what seemed like days on end.

"Rush, hold up. We can't go any farther."

The bison skidded to a halt much more graceful than Clockwork would've believed possible. "Why not? I don't see nothin' but sand and cacti!"

"That's 'cause you don't have enhanced night vision courtesy of the alicorn of the night herself. Top of that hill. I think we found where this train stops for refueling."

"And where would that be?" Rush asked as he came to the top of the raised patch of earth.

"Heh, Aaaaaaapleloosa." the Commander replied.

Sure enough, the city the Nocturni had addressed glowed almost as brightly as the sun under his night vision. It was all too clear that the Supremacy had set up some serious shop. However, the city looked next to nothing like the pictures Clockwork had seen. A strange, black chitin was slathered over many of the buildings, and tiny figures could be seen swarming above.

"The Supremacy sure knows how to make use of the time they have."

"It sickens me," Rush growled. "There is more than enough land in Equestria available for settlement. They could've just asked for some of it."

"Let's get back to Dodge. We've got enough info, and Clockwork and I can figure out the rest back at base."

No sooner had Long Shot finished his sentence did Bull Rush take off at top speed. A combination of anger and determination fueled him, and before they knew it, they were home.