My father was a bit of a draconian when it came to politics. No, I don’t mean his physical form. I meant they way he handled things. He always used to say, ‘the velvet glove always has its uses, but only when it contains a steel fist’. I used to laugh at that. Not anymore.

I felt the corrosive copper taste of anxiety melt through my mouth. All around me were screams of anguish, the metallic screech of failing steel crossbeams and the vicious snarls of defiance that were brought to silence by the grim pitter-patter of gunfire. My claws danced furiously among the keypad and I spared a glance behind me when the last three digits were punched in.

I wish I hadn’t.

The old warehouse was a wreckage, strewn around were piles of garbage, worn wooden crates, some burning with the lingering fuel of the improvised incendiary cocktails we had so desperately thrown together. One of the few in my clan left standing looked at me, he met my eyes with a force of determination and courage that left me breathless for a moment. The black-scaled monstrosity gave me a humorous tilt of his head and then whipped his skull back to meet the oncoming rush of the grimly competent assassins that were scattered among the looming darkness of the gathering evening.

Actinic light burned my vision as he roared his pride and defiance at the oncoming mercenaries, flinging a talon bathed in the crimson red of his spell craft. A roaring inferno swept onwards to the surprised combatants engulfing the nearest in its hellish haze of infernal power. Shocked gasps and urgent shouting gave me a glimmer of hope as I heard the servomotors grind to life behind me, hailing us to escape the killing field. I opened my mouth to scream, to tell my clansmen that the gates to our temporary salvation were opening.

TONK.

A cold claw clutched my heart when I heard that deadly sound. A fifty millimetre high explosive round caught the massive Elder in the face and blossomed into a fiery reaper. The Elder whiplashed and landed on his back. I didn’t need to look again to see that he was already dead. Dead like so many others. I sent a quick prayer to the Ancestors to guide his ancient soul. Tears leaked from my eyes, blurring my vision, but I angrily dashed them away and firmed my resolve. I yelled at my remaining compatriots to move, move, MOVE!

The door had barely opened a fraction of the way before I shouldered past it in desperation. The cold steel felt dull against my own scales and I hissed in shock as I realised that the shot from earlier had pinched a nerve, causing the numbness. My clan members backed away slowly, flinging spells and blasting out bursts of fire to cover themselves as they made their way to the door. As the blast door reached halfway, I slammed my fist into the control for closing the bunker. The door groaned as the inertia of the heavy metal resisted the churning motors.

They will make, I thought feverishly. They have to make it.

My eyes wide with dread, I saw my fellow clan member make it halfway before an almighty crack pierced through the air and I saw her fall with a muffled squeal. I closed my eyes and whimpered. Snipers. There was no hope for the last clan member. His form was of a darker steel-grey than my quicksilver scales and his metal spines clashed as he gave me a gentle shake of his head. From the sound of the shot he knew instantly he was pinned under his meagre cover.

A lopsided smirk crept up the side of his features. I knew that look and protests caught in my throat. I wanted to scream, I wanted to shout at him. Stop. Don’t do it. I could only look on helplessly as I saw him draw from the actinic void. In his claws he held a small, round, dark olive steel ball. My eyes widened in shock.

“No," I whispered as he grinned toothily, yanking the pin out with his good forelimb.

The gap was getting smaller and smaller as the blast doors slid closer and closer to sealing me in.

A small growl, hiss and click was all he said before the bunker sealed shut.

I slumped against the side of the wall, clutching my wound that had decided to reopen. I pulled a short bandage from a small satchel around my midsection, my brain on autopilot as I bound my upper forelimb with the bandage. My mouth curled into a grimace as I tightened the bandage but I used the pain to focus. My ears were twitching among the weak cacophony of gunshots and explosions that continued to wrack the outside battlefield. The sound barely reached this place but I strained nevertheless. I strained to hear what was important to me. I strained to hear the inevitable.

Then I heard it.

It sounded oddly dull but close. A short boom and the cries of wounded men reverberated in short proximity.

I closed my eyes and replayed the last words of my brother out loud.

“Be seeing you soon," I repeated as my eyes burned.

“Ashadh," I moaned softly, the tears cold as they clung to my scales, chilled in the frosty bunker I resided in.

“My friends…” I whispered hoarsely. “My family…”

I wanted to lie here for a while.

I wanted to lie here forever.

For a moment I even contemplated on doing so and giving up.

I had lost so much…

But my father wouldn’t have it, I had to press on.

I tapped a claw on an etched scale. Luckily it hadn’t been damaged in the conflict. I sighed gratefully as the small room lit up with a cold blue ethereal light. The area was empty save for a few provisional crates. If I knew the combatants, they will eventually reach inside and finish the job. I shuddered. They may even decide to have some fun before they finish me.

I shook my head doggedly, trying to focus on the problem and not on the disturbing thoughts that were gathering in my fractured mind. I lumbered forward, recalling the patterns that my father had drilled into my mind.

I quickly brought a steel talon down, furrowing the concrete with harsh screeches that set my teeth on edge. I ignored the unpleasant feeling and concentrated on piecing together the power nodes and the auxiliary dimensional configurations. I wasn’t a fully fledged magus but I was pretty close. I paused. Perhaps I was the only worker of Power now. A shudder went through my frame and my steely mane let out an inappropriately melodious tinkle.

I almost laughed then.

The last part of the workings were almost complete but I hesitated.

My father had told me the majority of worlds were barren or simply uninhabitable. If I took this, then I may die anyway. I snorted. Better to die like this on an alien world than at the mercy of my oppressors. I etched in the last strokes to the pattern and poured in Power. The pattern glowed a dull scarlet but quickly worked its way up the spectrum until it was eye-piercing violet.

Suddenly, the space in front of me tore with a snap and a rectangular window popped into view. I ran a draconian tongue over my reptilian lips.

Oh to heck with it.

I held my breath, plunging forward into the rectangular abyss.

Author's Notes:

Not much to say here.

Next Chapter: Physics is suspended. The whole of Canterlot is in an uproar as miscellaneous floating objects fly around haphazardly.

As always, my salient readers, thanks for reading.