"So... explain why we've got to do this?" Rainbow Dash asked, for the fifth consecutive time. The medical kit was spread out along the ground around them, each piece resting alone on the bare stone. This procedure was incredibly simple when you had hands; lacking them made this almost impossible. Of course Rainbow Dash was getting frustrated, having to do things with their hooves and mouth that she never would've had to struggle with before. It wasn't fair to her, really. That didn't mean he wasn't going to ask.

Lonely Dawn had just watched from afar off, doing her duty to "keep watch" without complaint. She seemed deeply concerned with every pained twitch Charles made, though at the sight of his blood she had responded with dignity. No doubt blood was not as new for her as it was for the ponies back in Equestria.

Of course, Charles thought that he had done a decent job resisting the pain when Rainbow Dash had jammed the needle into the wrong part of his neck three times.

"We should really just get going. We don't have much food, but it should be enough so long as we ration those apples carefully." Rainbow Dash moved to get up and move away from him, but he jerked under her hooves and she stopped.

"No, Rainbow Dash. If we're leaving this equipment behind, I'm at least getting a cortical recorder in my head. If we die, if we get struck by lightning, or those changeling monsters get us, I'll be damned if I'm going to stay dead." He pressed his neck to one of her hooves. "Right at the base of the skull, in that little gap. You've got to get it at an upward angle so it makes it into the cerebellum."

"What do you mean?" Lonely Dawn's voice was barely a squeak; frightened as she was by this strange behavior and the strange objects. "S-stay dead... that thing doesn't make you an Alicorn, does it?"

Charles felt cold metal on his neck, much closer to the right location this time. He offered no encouragement, though, for fear that anything he said to Rainbow Dash might break her concentration. Instead he spoke to the other, younger mare. If only her infatuation wasn't growing by the hour. Even such an alien display would probably not put her off him for long. If only he could get the will to be mean to her, maybe she would leave him alone, focus her attention on Rainbow Dash instead. As of yet, he simply didn't have the heart. It would've been like kicking a puppy. "No, nothing like that. A cortical recorder is like a... live backup of your brain. If you die, even if your body rots away to nothing, someone can come along and grab the recorder, and give you a brand new body. A fully prosthetic body... We haven't had the need to figure out how to grow replacement organic bodies. Are you... getting any of this?"

She nodded, or at least it looked like that was what she had done. Charles didn't exactly have a very good view from the ground. "I think so... It's magic that they can use to bring a pony back to life. Equestria’s way more advanced than I thought..."

Rainbow Dash sighed. "This stupid thing isn't Equestrian magic! Bringing a pony back to life, that'd be... unnatural!" She shook her head. "As though I wouldn't have plenty of better things to do once I died." A pause. "Okay, pretty sure I got it this time. You ready?"

"Y-yeah." Charles didn't want to nod and risk making her lose her position. "If it works, I'll probably go into shock and sleep for a few hours. Don't worry, it's normal." He felt a sharp pain, much more intense than any of the previous jabs. The brain didn't have pain receptors, but getting that deep was agony. Normally a cortical recorder was something applied while under anesthetic. Unfortunately, Charles had used all the pain medication on Rainbow Dash when her wing had been injured. The recorder itself would induce unconsciousness while it performed its most invasive tasks. He only had to wait through the pain for a few more seconds...

His head throbbed. Why was everything so loud? "R-rain..." He stirred, trying to force his eyes to open. He felt far more sluggish than normal, like his head had been filled with cotton. "Q-qui..."

"Good." Charles had never heard such fear from her, and it was so uncomfortably acute that he was able to force himself to sit up. The noise wasn't his imagination. He could hear what seemed like hundreds of voices, and none of them pleasant. They grated on his ears, guttural and primitive and fierce. It didn't help his headache. Rainbow Dash seemed to be helping him to his hooves, for which he was grateful. Ordinarily after an integration like this a full day's bedrest would have been the best idea. It didn't seem like he would get that chance.

They were resting on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the crashing waves of the ocean and the beginning of the last leg of their trip back to Equestria. It was perhaps fifty feet to the rocks below, easily enough that Rainbow Dash could have used it to take off had she wanted to. Lonely Dawn stood close to them both, her whole body shivering. Charles couldn't exactly blame her for her fear. Rainbow Dash was better at hiding what she felt, though there was no mistaking her expression for one of calm.

"You should've left me behind!" he whispered harshly into her ear, his eyes gliding slowly around the crowd. They were goblins all, perhaps three hundred of them or more. They gave the ponies about ten feet of clear ground before their own crowd began. Strangely, not all of them were armored. Plenty wore bones in strange, ceremonial ways. Some wore no armor and carried no weapons at all, and Charles was fairly certain these were females. Others had misty eyes and milky scales, unmistakable signs of great age. These seemed to be centered foremost in the group, surrounding them on every side. They carried spears and clubs and bone-covered rattles, though Charles wasn't sure about their ability to use them. Only in the back of the group were the strong, able-bodied males. It seemed among this group at least they had the position of least prominence.

"Never!" Rainbow Dash hissed. "We would've flown away, but not without you. Nothing we did could wake you up."

Charles rested his weight on his hooves, and to his credit he did not collapse immediately. Despite the addition of his first implant, this body was still healthy. Once his brain grew used to having a little metal and silicon up there, the disorientation would pass. If only he could force his brain to figure things out faster. "They haven't attacked?"

Rainbow shook her head. "No. I told them to go away and they ignored me. I threatened and shouted, but they didn't listen."

Poor Dawn was in absolute terror, her whole body shaking. Somehow Charles doubted being around so many goblins was bringing back fond memories. He was grateful Rainbow Dash hadn't abandoned him, while simultaneously wishing that she had. At least they would both be safe, even if he would've been doomed.

Charles ran through the facts in his mind as quickly as he could. They hadn't been attacked. The crowd was made up of many goblin "civilians," which they hadn't seen before. From Rainbow Dash's behavior, it seemed clear enough that this was not normal behavior for goblins. What could have caused this total reversal of behavior? There was no way it could have anything to do with him, could it? With as regular as their flying had been to reach the coast, someone must have traveled straight through the night to get the message here. Unless they had riding animals, of which he couldn't see any. Ponies were too small to carry an adult goblin, and he doubted anything larger could subsist in this meager climate.

"I've got this. Get Dawn ready to fly away if things get bad." He took a step forward toward the crowd, trying to look more confident than he felt. Who was he putting the show on for, the ponies, the goblins, or himself?

"They've got bows; not all of us can fly fast enough to get away."

"Just be ready. I'm not sure this will work." Then he cleared his throat, speaking as loudly and clearly as he could in English. He still didn't know how these creatures could possibly speak it. Still was far from comfortable at the thought they were sapient creatures. "Why have you come!?" he bellowed over the crowd.

The crowd, which had been talking with one another but largely ignoring the ponies, grew silent with a few harsh mutters. Instead of only the foremost watching them, nearly all of the strange reptiles turned their startlingly human eyes on him. In just a few seconds, the clearing was silent except for the crashing of waves far below.

"Why have you come?" he asked again, not so loud since everyone was listening so closely.

In the very front of the group was a goblin that seemed to be of such great age that it was a wonder he could move at all. When Charles had first glanced in his direction, he had feared the poor creature was dead. The goblin made his still-living status very clear as he began to speak, his voice like a quavering leaf. Human hearing probably would not have been able to make out the words, but Charles was not limited to human senses.

"We heard the Strange One had come, the one who speaks in the tongue of Elders and is like us not at all."

His English was far better than that of the last goblin Charles had spoken with. He wasn't sure if this ought to be frightening or a relief. Still, he wasn't about to deny the allegation. "I am both of those things. Perhaps more than you know."

"How?" asked another voice, this one higher than the first. It was hard to tell, but it seemed this creature covered with scraps of fabric and small animal bones was female. Was it the smell? "How you speak this voice? No cousin teach you... cousins can't teach even each other."

Of course he had already answered this question the last time he had spoken with goblins, and he didn't feel cooperative. Instead of repeating himself, he said "If no cousin teaches you, how do you know it?"

"Time teaches," said the oldest, frailest of the group. "The hatchlings know it not, but they learn when they are elders too. No teacher, just time. The knowledge comes as a gift from the ancestors."

That was a terrifying thought. So far as he knew, nature had no examples whatever of advanced skills simply developing in the brains of an animal. Either they knew something at birth or had to learn, right? An implant could be used to "download" knowledge into the brain, though he was fairly certain goblins lacked the technology to build those. That only left... advanced genetic manipulation? Vastly beyond the scope of the technology as he understood it, perhaps hundreds or thousands of years more advanced.

Of course, knowing the way this world worked, it could also just be magic. That was a thing here. Something in his gut told him that wasn't the case, though. Hadn't he heard somewhere goblins didn't have magic? "That isn't how I learned," he answered, honestly. "My parents taught me; we spoke English and Finnish both in our family. No, my parents weren't ponies. I'm not sure how much you have heard about me, but I'm not from this world. I'm also nothing special. There are thousands of us back in Equestria..."

The goblins conversed with one another in hushed voices, their words completely unintelligible to him. At least they didn't use English for all their conversations. Eventually a decision was reached, and their attention turned back to him. The oldest of them spoke. "You are the one from the dreams. The strange one. The liberator. We think it is good you go to pony country; our sons fight there. Are you going to free them?"

"From what?"

A roar went up immediately from the goblins, spreading between them like a match put to dry brush. It was such a frightening sound that Charles retreated, fearing they might soon have to make a doomed escape attempt. But no; however emotional these goblins might be, only the youngest males, those in back, made any move to rise. It was hard to resist the urge to run, but he managed. Eventually the shouts and the chest-pounding and the reptilian roars settled into silence. Again it was the eldest of them who spoke, one of the few who had not been briefly consumed with rage.

"You have come to speak the truth. The truth of shells and of flowers. The truth of crystals and of beauty."

Another voice joined the first. "Speak it silently and the great dream will come and we will know. Tell us in dreams so we may know you were sent by the ancestors."

Charles stared, confused. "How am I supposed to tell you something without telling you?"

A few growls came from the crowd, and a harsh muttering that spread through it. They grew restless. The oldest of them did not sound as angry as some of the others looked, however. "If you cannot tell us, these cousins here will tear you to pieces and feast well tonight. Some have shot flying creatures before; the hard black animals that taste like insect, and hoofed animals too. You must answer for them to let you live."

He nodded, retreating a pace from them. "Tell me what I'm supposed to tell you again? I must know what it is if you want me to tell it."

The eldest of them nodded sagely as it sat, not far different really from a human in that position. "The dream Is always the same. The dream of stars as they twist in spirals, of shells on sand. Of petals as they grow. The dream of crystals in the bowels of Earth."

Charles did not know any part of this strange riddle. He didn't understand the message he was supposed to send them, or how he was supposed to send it. True, if they had even basic implants like his he could send them a simple text transmission, but these were primitive natives! They couldn't receive radio transmissions in their brains like Rainbow Dash and now he could. Of course it was possible that there were spells to send thoughts as ordinary people spoke with words, but they had no unicorns here, so no ability to perform magic.

Charles focused instead on the message he was supposed to send, finding a stick on the ground and clumsily drawing each of the examples the elder had told him in order, arranged close enough so he could look at them all at once. If only he had still been in his proper body, this wouldn't have been an issue. But then, if he had still had a cybernetic body, he probably wouldn't be flying back to Equestria anytime soon either.

He stared at his sketches, tracing them with the stick more because it gave him something that made him look busy to the goblins, who grew more restless by the second. How long could he keep this up before they rose up and tore them all to pieces?

It was in the process of sketching that he saw it. In the flowers first, then his little drawing of a galaxy with its spiral arms. There was a ratio here common to each of these objects, one he knew well since it was used by several of the basic search programs his old cybernetic brain had used. It was φ, he was absolutely sure of that now.

"Alright, Rainbow." He turned, lowering his voice to as quiet a volume as he could manage. "I think I've figured out what they want, but I might not be able to do it. If it doesn't work, I think our best bet is to jump off the cliff and fly straight and low as fast as possible. If I run, make sure you and Dawn are right behind me."

She rolled her eyes. "If you run, I'll be in front of you before we get down to the water if I have to carry her."

Charles smiled at this news, not because he thought it was likely so much as because he greatly admired Rainbow's confidence. Not that he would ever tell her that. With a reassuring nod to Lonely Dawn, he turned back to face the goblins, then closed his eyes, forcing his mind into the familiar relaxation and willing the console to appear. With such a newly-added implant, it took him nearly ten minutes of calming breathing to make it happen. Eventually he saw it, the flashing cursor.

System ready: emrg brt -f * msg '(1+sqrt(5))/2' -s 500;

Command Accepted

Nothing happened. Of course, Charles hadn't actually expected these goblins to somehow have radio reception, but that didn't make it hurt any less. He had been so sure he had the solution to the riddle, so sure that he was about to secure safe passage home to Equestria. Almost exactly eight minutes and twenty seconds passed without the slightest impact on the goblins. It was going to be time to run soon.

Then everything changed. There was no reason he knew of that suggested the plan had any chance of success. Yet somehow, he found his mind flashing with the simple message:

Data transmission received: Audio file. Beginning playback:

Then there was a voice, speaking directly to his mind. It was an older, mature sounding woman, speaking in English so bland and without accent that it hardly sounded real.

"We address this message to whichever humans eventually discover our descendants, excepting the barrier preventing travel to other matter-based universes will never be circumvented. We do not know what forms our children may be in, nor do we know if dozens of years will have passed or millions.

Despite the fantastic density of data-storage in genetic material, this message cannot contain even the hundredth part of what became of us, the people of the Avalon colony, after our arrival on this other Earth.

We could not stay on Avalon, however; it was not built to survive without the regular shipments from Earth, and those would never come. We cannibalized much of the colony to build landing craft, leaving only the master computer and the systems required to keep it running intact.

This Earth was peaceful and verdant, almost exactly like ours save that there was no humanity, no sign of advanced life of any kind. There were tribes of a small, horse-like animal, with suggestions of intelligence but no signs of tools or language as we understand them. We named this world Bountiful, for its untapped resources and familiar plants and animals.

There is a strange, mutagenic effect to all parts of this world. We felt it not at all during the years it took to retrofit the rockets to travel here from Luna, yet the instant we arrived all of our number with living bodies began to be altered by the strange effects of this place. Modifications to our medical nanomachines had to be made, to actively repair every bodily cell. Refresher injections became an annual requirement, instead of the once-per-decade requirement common to civilian medicine on Earth or Luna.

In time we multiplied and great cities rose. Further exploration of this planet proved it was not as devoid of intelligent life as we had supposed. A race ancient and powerful slept on a continent far away, in parts of the world so lifeless and without resource we had not traveled there until many generations had passed and humans searched for new homes that would not disrupt the native species of Bountiful.

They had powers unlike anything we have ever known, and the people of Avalon had never carried, built, or maintained weapons, not even after leaving our colony on Luna. We had no designs, no factories, no soldiers. By the time we realized what was happening, and made use of understood scientific principles to create weapons and military hardware from scratch, the war was mostly over. Our cities were in ruin.

Yet many survived. When a race numbers nearly a billion planetwide even a great and powerful enemy cannot exterminate them. Through the master computer of Luna, protected from decay in the dead of space, communication was still possible. We knew we could not defeat this enemy, and had no recourse to flee the planet. We knew that without the ability to manufacture the nanomedical devices, we would all soon be twisted beyond recognition, in ways we did not understand but that our enemy encouraged.

A solution was devised, using all we had learned of mutation and genetic alteration since arriving. The nanomedical device was used to alter the genetic material of every living human, so that their children would all be born with an artificial organ, which would protect itself from alteration within their brains.

We could not predict what might become of us, but we were confident that many would survive in some form or another. We thought that a few of the technologically intact groups might eventually discover a means to neutralize the enemy, before they were discovered. Either that, or the people of Old Earth might one day return, and save us from what we had become.

If you are receiving this transmission, it is through the relay established with this artificial organ we designed and the master computer still buried deep on Luna's surface. Avalon's position has not changed, and the docking systems are intact. Travel there and retrieve the records of what became of us. Learn of our enemy and the strange way they fought. The designs for the medical devices that prevent human mutation are stored as well, along with every other advanced technology we made here on Bountiful.

The purpose of this organ was not only to send this message. When this transmission was received, the master computer relayed a command to all of our descendants, to activate certain genetic changes in their reproductive systems, ensuring the germ cells produced have human genetic material. No genetic system which might repair the bodies of those presently alive could be sufficiently simple as to survive the mutagenic effects of this planet over extreme timescale, but this does not mean the next generation cannot be saved.

We do not know the circumstances in which you hear this message. We do not know if there are perhaps a few individuals of us left, or if we number in the billions. We do not know if our ancient enemy has or can be defeated. Yet this we know, that we determine not to go quietly into the dark. Whoever you are, whenever you are; the future of our children is in your hands. Earth is their birthright as much as yours. We of Avalon trust ourselves to your mercy. Without you, we will surely die."

The roar of distant gunfire was silent now, and Applejack found herself powerfully uncomfortable in the silence. Her only company was the quiet whir of the air-filters on her helmet, audible only thanks to the physical contact they had with her ears. Like the rest of her unit, her armor was in active camouflage mode, projecting the image of her surroundings for almost complete invisibility so long as she remained still.

They had to survive for four hours, that was how long it would take for the carriers to return and airlift the Sons of Barsoom to safety. She had thought that would mean doing what the Equestrian Army would have done, digging trenches and protecting themselves within them until their evacuation arrived. Ryan had laughed when she had told him what she expected to happen, saying only, "We're the Sons of Barsoom, Applejack. If we do what our enemies expect, we aren't being true to character."

Instead they had concealed themselves inside the structures, on the roofs, and in the trees. Humans were very much like apes in that respect at least; they could climb almost anything sturdy enough to support their weight. Of course, the strangest bit of this strategy was the way they had concealed many of the vehicles and turrets inside the structures, tearing down walls and interior sections and crushing foundation planks with massive treads. She hadn't voiced her objection that the ponies probably wouldn't appreciate coming back to their homes completely trashed.

Applejack and her brother were together on the roof of the Salt Block saloon, silenced rounds loaded and bodies absolutely still. Their orders were quite clear; not to fire or react in any way unless their lives were threatened or they were given the order to strike. It was a very difficult order to follow as the enemy began to arrive.

They weren't goblins smattered with a handful of changelings, as Applejack had expected. Had that been the case, she would have hardly spared a thought for what would soon befall them. Goblins were scarcely even animals in their intelligence, and stories about how they lived told of disgusting blood-rituals and even cannibalism. The rapid thumps and sound of wingbeats could not possibly belong to changelings or goblins, however.

She saw the minotaurs first, towering bodies of muscle and bone. They would have towered over the humans, armor or not, and they wore armor as well. Huge sheets of pig-iron, crudely welded and riveted, along with simple helmets with holes for their horns. Much of the exposed flesh and fur had been "branded" with various symbols and designs. Humans and even ponies had tattoos she knew, but neither burned the designs into the flesh with hot metal the way minotaurs did. Most carried gunpowder weapons, rifles so massive that a human firing them was likely to lose their arms. Of course all carried more traditional weapons as well, axes and swords and spears glinted in their straps and scabbards all over the crowd.

That wasn't the worst of it, either. There were griffons flying low above the minotaurs, scanning the air and the surroundings for any sign of the enemy they must know was occupying the town. Their armor bore none of the clan insignia that Applejack recognized, but then she had only ever met a few griffons in her life and knew little about how their government worked. Their armor was light and strong and their weapons looked well-maintained. Griffons had invented gunpowder weapons on Equus several centuries before, and no doubt had continued innovating in the years since.

It was impossible to think of either of these two types of troops as mindless animals to be senselessly slaughtered. It would've been easier by far if she didn't have to think about all the orphans and widows they were about to create. Was it really their fault they had been born into cultures that had chosen to send them here? She almost thought to flee, or worse, to call out a warning that they were walking into an ambush.

But then she remembered the stories from Seaddle and Los Pegasus, the stories of cruelty and abuse that had already made their way east. I wouldn't hurt 'em if they would let us be, she told herself. But they won't. They've come to make slaves, and to kill. I won't let that happen to mah friends an' family. So however much it might pain her to think about, she did nothing, said nothing, and obeyed her orders.

How many were there? At least a thousand between the two parties, perhaps three minotaurs to every griffon. It was a frightening sight to see them get so close, filling the town. A few griffons even landed on roofs all around them, scanning their eyes right through the actively-camouflaged soldiers around them. Thank Celestia they hadn't landed on anypony and given everything away.

Applejack didn't think this was a very good idea; to give the enemy so much territory and let them get so close, but she never said a word of question. They had been ordered to keep total radio silence until conflict had broken out in earnest.

"Sharpshooters, choose your targets. I'll count backward from five. On zero, shoot. Headshots only, please." Cigaal's voice was clear in her ear, and there could be no misunderstanding the command. Applejack's eyes tracked across the HUD, and she selected a target; a griffon scanning the structures with particular intensity. As her attention focused on him, his whole body lit up red; exactly as it would in the HUDs of every other soldier in the unit. She let the auto-aim do most of the work, focusing her concentration on his forehead and readying herself for the shot. She felt the motor within the armor spin slightly, no doubt correcting for every last fluctuation in wind and humidity and angle. It was comically easy to shoot straight when computers did most of the work for you. "Choose another target immediately. Ignore the cows until all the eagles are neutralized."

Cows? Eagles? Cigaal didn't know very much about the different species that lived on Equus, did he? This was hardly the time to correct him. "Five... Four... Three... Two... One... Zero." Applejack fired, along with fifty of her fellow soldiers. Fifty targets fell dead, many of them plummeting right out of the sky. There had been a brief crack of sound and light, perfectly synchronized from all over the town. That was the key to the timing, then; the best way not to give away their individual positions was to fire from all of them exactly at once.

A roar went up from the minotaurs, matched with a screech of rage and frustration from the surviving griffons. "Snipers, get down!" called a sensible voice from among them. "Below the buildings, now! Get to cover!"

"Someone get the talkative one. Probably an officer. Three, two, one..."

Their enemy didn't stand a chance. Before they could regroup, before all the griffons could even land, another fifty fell dead and broken. Applejack watched as the one she had chosen crashed to the ground like a broken doll, and felt absolutely disgusted with herself. She had killed before; she didn't even know how many changelings she had killed during the battle for Canterlot. But that had been different. They had been looking their enemy in the eye, giving them a fair chance to fight back. That wasn't what they were doing now, hiding in the shadows and striking down their foes as with the magic of Celestia herself. There were no survivors, no injuries. Each shot was a casualty, a family that would lose a father or a brother.

Their enemy was far from stupid, and by now they seemed to be realizing they had walked into an ambush. The trouble was just how good active camouflage really was; these troops hadn't ever encountered it before. Of course, the plan was already worked out, and it wasn't to try the same tactic over and over. "Charger group, engage! Deterrent group, decloak and engage. Everyone else, fire at will!"

It seemed at that moment Tartarus itself had been unleashed upon the battlefield. From the opposite end of town a pair of massive machines rounded the corner from their concealment behind buildings, firing anti-personnel shells into the tightly grouped formation and barreling down on them. Applejack knew the machines humans called tanks could easily outpace a minotaur at full run, hovering as they did on blasting torrents of air. These seemed in no particular rush to close the gap to the group, and moved only as fast as the group could get away. From every lower story door soldiers appeared, readying their weapons to prevent entry.

It didn't matter how well-trained this combined force of minotaurs and griffons was at this point, didn't matter how often they had drilled or how rigorously they were prepared for battle. Confronted with such horrific slaughter, the roar of tank engines and the sudden appearance of soldiers from nowhere, they began to flee. Many of the griffons took flight, and were felled by the skillful work of the sharpshooters. Applejack didn't fire another shot during the battle however, so transfixed was she with the scene of blood and horror before her eyes.

A few minotaurs charged for the buildings and were easily felled by the soldiers waiting there, their heavy armor plates and strong bodies not seeming to offer them the slightest protection from human weapons. A few charged the tanks, driven by the rage characteristic of their race in times of stress. The heavy-caliber rounds from the tanks didn't just kill the minotaurs foolish enough to charge, they exploded them.

Applejack turned away, unable to watch the slaughter any longer. "Captain, this ain’t right what we're doin'," she said over the private channel, voice filled with barely contained disgust. She knew what was coming next; the tanks were pushing the crowd right into the line of fire of the diagonally-positioned machine-gun nests, which would grind up whatever troops remained as thoroughly as she ground up apples for cider. "You sent 'em to runnin'! We don't need ta' shoot no more!"

She didn't expect an answer right away; not with the battle in full force now. If it could even be called a battle. In the split-second decisions that had to be made during a battle, the commander's attention was likely to be completely occupied. Even if it wasn't, she was questioning his orders. No Equestrian commander would be happy to have that happen.

But he did answer. "I have heard you natives have delicate sensibilities." His voice was so deep that even over the radio it seemed to make her whole barrel vibrate a little. "We cannot spare them now; or else face them later determined for revenge and full of hate as well as knowledge of our tactics."

Applejack wanted to argue with him, but for once she didn't have the courage. All the death around her was making her sick.

His voice had turned reproving. "We are fighting more than one battle here, native. These troops are strong and proud, and we will slay every man save one without taking a wound. The stories he will tell will fight many of our battles after that, battles we may win without bloodshed."

Then his voice grew sterner. Almost perfectly in time with it, she heard the harsh bark of the machine-guns, and the screaming that told her the worst had begun. "It is wrong of you to think that one way of taking life is somehow better or worse than another. It is not justice to let your enemy strike you even as you slay him. Don't think it matters to the dead man when he is with God whether he saw his enemy before he died. His judgement is the same." Then, with a little more compassion. "It is well that war is so terrible ‒ otherwise we would grow too fond of it."

True to his word, a single survivor was permitted to flee the scene of the massacre. Satellite footage indicated that they had fought some form of advanced guard. The rest of the soldiers wouldn't arrive anywhere near soon enough to confront them before their evac arrived.

"A-Group, scorched earth," Cigaal said. "Every well, every food supply. The rest of you; burial detail." He did not shrink from the scene of blood and carnage in the streets. The dry earth had soaked up most of the blood, but it could not swallow the gore without their help. Empty eyes stared up at them from the ground, filled with terror and hatred. "These were not beasts; we will give them respect in death."

The tanks did most of the digging; apparently they could function quite well as tractors when the need arose. It was the labor of the largest part of their unit to gather the dead and lay them respectfully side-to-side in the dirt. Pinkie Pie was nowhere to be seen, but Applejack and Big Mac both helped with as much of the work as they could. These humans were hard workers; scarcely two hours had passed before they were patting down the last of the dirt on the bodies of the slain. The place was clearly marked by the helmets, which had been removed and piled atop the freshly-turned earth to clearly mark the spot where their owners now rested.

With the work done, the soldiers not assigned another task gathered together under the porches and inside the damaged buildings of the town's square. Most of the unit not occupied with other work were congregating in the Salt Block, playing games with the cards and gambling tables that the ponies had left behind. Had these been other circumstances she might've considered joining them. Applejack loved blackjack.

The soldiers had scrubbed the blood from their armor with sterilizing foam, but that didn't mean Applejack could just forget about what had happened and return to socializing and laughing the way they did. Where was Pinkie Pie, anyway?

"Airborne contact!" came a shout over the radio, loud enough to startle Applejack from her reverie. The soldiers all around her reacted at once, dropping what they were doing and darting out the door almost before she could move. She switched onto her squad's frequency, and heard Ryan's voice exactly as she had expected.

"We're going to stick to cover in the structures," he explained. "AA-turrets are going to take care of it. Shouldn't be a problem unless it crushes one of the buildings somebody's hiding in."

Applejack obeyed, watching as the humans rushed into fighting positions under the veil of active camouflage. She heard the enemy approaching long before it arrived. A roar shook the valley, deep and guttural and furious. Even with the armor, even with so many powerful allies, Applejack felt a thrill of fear. She had dealt with adolescent dragons before, and the interaction hadn't been pleasant. This was clearly not the cry of an adolescent.

If the other humans were afraid, they showed no sign. Applejack scanned through the frequencies until she found the one Cigaal was using, listening carefully to whatever his plan might be. "Do not kill the creature. The dragons are leading this invasion; it will have valuable information. Damage the wings enough to force it to land without causing enough trauma to kill it."

"It would be easier to vaporize it," said a female human voice. "Those scales are tough; the natives say they can swim in molten lava, eat precious stones like candy. To be safe, I'll have to start small. Switch to progressively more-lethal munitions until we find our sweet-spot."

"They said they could breathe fire, just like the stories. Wonder what the range on that is." That was another voice, also without a name she knew.

"We will find out. Don't end this too quickly." None of the humans sounded the least bit afraid. Even as the monstrous creature drew closer, even as it blasted a quick gout of fire into the sky before it, not a soul faltered or fled from his post. The voices on the radio didn't sound the least bit perturbed. How was it they could face an enemy like this so casually? Single dragons had destroyed entire armies more than once.

Then again, they had destroyed an army today too, without losing a single soldier. It seemed Applejack had become attached to the one species that was somehow more dangerous than dragons. Who would have thought such a thing existed until now. Of course, they had also put themselves at risk and saved the lives of everypony who had lived here, so it was hard to judge them as good or evil. It was not a thought Applejack enjoyed. After all, she lived in a world of moral absolutes. This gray made her life much harder.

The dragon was perhaps a kilometer away now, so close that Applejack could see its glittering crimson scales. She also heard something else, the rat-a-tat of tracer-fire from a single AA turret. She watched from the window as the dragon flew, seeming not to notice the bullets at all. The same caliber of bullets that had made minotaurs and gryphons explode wasn't even scratching it. Next she saw a small explosion in the air right in front of the dragon, much too close to avoid. It passed through the flames and the shock wave with only a brief loss of control and no sign of injury.

The creature even laughed, low and cruel. It was close enough that Applejack could even hear the words as it roared. "Fools! Slaves and meat cannot kill gods!"

There was little time left before the dragon would be upon them. A line of light seemed to connect the ground to the dragon for a split-second, and along it flew a horrible screaming mass of bubbling, glowing light. It was like the old stories of ball-lightning, only this lightning flew up instead of down, crossing the distance almost instantaneously and striking the dragon in the wing.

The blow produced a mild spasm, but not enough to unsteadily the creature in flight. There were no burns or other signs they had actually injured it.

It was too late to try something else. The dragon reached the lowest point in his dive and flames struck somewhere Applejack couldn't see in a gout of bright white. The helmet kept it from hurting her eyes, but it couldn't stop the sound of an explosion that followed, and the shaking of the ground beneath her hooves. The dragon had struck something, and Applejack had a feeling it was something human. This town had nothing in it that ought to explode, even if they were set ablaze by dragonfire.

The dragon passed by, wheeling in the air, and the radio was suddenly filled with angry shouts. Cigaal's was chief among them, and at his voice the sound of all others ceased. "They hit Ariel! Someone get her out of the flames!"

"There's nothing to rescue, sir!" answered another voice, almost at once. "Somehow the fire set off all the munition in the turret, all at once! There's just a crater. Thank God nobody else was nearby."

The dragon came back around, laughing again. Another gout of flame poured down on them. This one struck a building nearby, incinerating it and setting those around it ablaze. It was so dry here that the fire started to spread almost at once. Everyone would lose their cover now, and their lives if they didn't move quickly.

"I've got it!" That was Ryan's voice, coming over the squad frequency as well as the global, and Applejack watched in horror as he decloaked atop the roof of a nearby building. He held a huge tube on his back, and did not show the slightest sign of fear as the dragon clearly focused on him. Applejack watched in horror as Ryan merely stood there, not firing. The dragon opened its mouth and burning death poured out towards him. At that exact moment however, he pulled the trigger, and a dark shape uncoiled itself from the end of the device.

Ryan was enveloped in the flames, though by some stroke of luck they seemed to have missed the device itself. The floor collapsed beneath him and he fell, but not before his icon in Applejack's HUD went from "ready" to "critical."

The object, meanwhile, was a gigantic net. It expanded in the air, filling the space in front of the dragon and wrapping around it as it flew. It might be made from metal, but it was so thin! Applejack knew the defense was going to fail; even if it slowed in flight the dragon was going to tear the net to pieces before it fell.

Only that wasn't what happened. Even as Applejack ran from her cover, ignoring whatever danger she might be in and rushing for where her newly-appointed squad-leader had fallen, she saw the dragon begin to twist and contort. Its muscles abruptly went rigid, every part of its body painfully extended. Of course this tore the net in more places than one, though this didn't seem to affect whatever was happening to it. Unable to flap its wings, the monster tumbled and crashed into the ground, with the sound of tearing earth and breaking bones.

It roared in agony and rage, but the tattered remains of the metal net was now entwined tightly with its body, cables knotting around the limbs that had torn through and entangling it completely. There would be no escape for it now.