Scottish Archives, May 12th, 2031.

General Alexander Redmond frowned as he looked the blueprints over. Next to him, Cheerilee looked equally sceptical, while Sato looked impassive. In front of them, Rupert Giles stood with his arms folded, a slight smile on his face, and one of his technical advisors - a young red-headed man in a long green tweed coat, arms folded impassively - stood next to him.

Three weeks ago, Redmond had ordered Giles to provide them with designs for new weapons and equipment - things that might, should the need arise, give the recently renamed UDF an advantage in battle against any enemy, be it pony or otherwise. Sato and Cheerilee had been somewhat ambivalent about the need, but Redmond was a cautious man, and the mere existence of more than one Equestria with the theoretical ability to reach their Earth made him cautious. In his mind, if there were Equestrias where she wasn't a tyrant, why couldn't there be more where she was? Better safe than caught on the back foot, especially now that Albion had died.

Besides, reports from Equestria showed that the conflict between Prince Blueblood’s new regime and the Solaminan Loyalists was showing no signs of letting up. If it continued, the Loyalists might well prove a threat to the UDF and the human survivors, and that was something Redmond would not allow to happen.

Hell Blazer had made it clear that summoning another Avatar was pointless: if nothing else, Excalibur, Elliot's weapon, had yet to dissipate from it's current home, lodged in a Canterlot Palace courtyard. That was a sign, according to the Convie, that there was more to the summoning of the next Avatar than Redmond or even Hell Blazer himself knew. Redmond called bullshit on that, but it wasn't as though he had a choice but to believe it: Giles, as chief representative of the Watcher's Council and the Governing Council's only other magic expert, had concurred with Hell Blazer's assessment, and only an idiot went against both the experts when they were telling him the same thing. Redmond was stubborn - obstinate even - but an idiot he was not, no matter what some people thought of him.

Still, it left the question of what they could do to replace the Avatar in the short term. The answer, after some work from Giles, was the Iron Clad program.

The renewed access to the rest of Earth had also granted humanity access to many tons of metals and other materials with which to build complex technologies. Already thousands of tons of this material had been imported, allowing for a rebuilding of their armouries the likes of which Redmond could scarcely have imagined one year ago. He had seen hundreds of thousands of assault rifles, racks of ammunition, strong and sturdy kevlar armour and hundreds of other pieces of military equipment rolling off the factory floor and issued to troops who had spent six years trying their best with whatever crap was salvageable from the ruin of old Earth. It made him feel… well, not happy, but content - he felt more prepared now than he had before the Battle of Canterlot itself, and that was quite the achievement: Canterlot had demanded more preparation than any battle he had ever been involved in.

These though… the Clad program was old: it had been developed in 2027 through 2028 as a response to the worsening conflict, but the resource requirements had been prohibitive. Now, though… now they had access to raw materials, and there were many humans who, with the war over, were wanting to return to work that was not military in nature.

"So," Redmond began. "Where are we?"

Giles turned to his advisor, who cleared his throat.

"Well," the man said, in a vaguely northern accent, "what you’ve essentially got is powered armour where the ‘powered’ element is provided by magic. The actual technology isn’t all that complicated - a little bit of a stretch, but there was a lot of tech development in the theory stages in the Archives."

"Sorry," Cheerilee said, frowning, "but who are you?"

"Ah, sorry," Giles said, smiling tiredly. "This is Dr Bowman, one of our advisors."

Bowman waved cheerily. "Fairly new to the project, only on temporary assignment."

"But with his help," Giles said, "we’ve managed to make some breakthroughs with our designs - we would have made them ourselves no doubt, but…"

"I helped," Dr Bowman finished, smirking. "Which is what I do."

"If you're so good, where were you during the war when we really needed this stuff working?" Redmond asked coldly. "We could have used all the ‘help’ we could have gotten."

"I was helping," Bowman replied shortly, frowning slightly. "Just somewhere else. A bloke can't be in two places at once."

"So they’ll be ready for use soon?" Redmond asked, ignoring this comment, though he still looked annoyed.

Dr Bowman whistled through his teeth. "That’s more tricky. The armour is only half the story."

"As you know, the actual soldiers in the Iron Clad program themselves are also meant to be augmented with magic," Giles said, frowning slightly. "We’ve had some research blocks with regards to making the augmentations entirely safe…"

"And magic is not my strong point," Dr Bowman finished. "which - given some of the places I’ve been over the last few months - it really should be, but it’s a tricky subject, not helped by the fact that since it’s magic, the actual research and understanding of it differs from place to place. For example - this world doesn’t measure magic in Thaumic readings…"

"Doctor," Sato said, holding a hand up. "Forgive me, but if we could focus on the problem of the Iron Clad program?"

"Right, sorry," Dr Bowman said, smiling sheepishly. "Basically - the original Iron Clad augmentations that we got to the ‘ready for testing’ stage weren’t safe."

"Weren’t safe?" Redmond repeated. "What the hell does that mean?"

"In the war, we had a different definition of what was acceptably safe," Giles clarified. Dr Bowman looked suitably shamefaced, looking away from everyone as the other man continued. "We were willing to accept magic burnout and slight-to-moderate psychological impairment on the Iron Clad subjects if the result was superior combat abilities. Now, though…"

"There is no war," Dr Bowman put in. "And I don’t know about any of you, but with less urgency I think a little more care with our soldiers is advisable."

"There’s no way to make the armour useful for non-Clads?" Cheerilee asked softly.

"As I believe has been mentioned in several of the documents previously provided, a lot of the Clad weapons and armour were designed for use by soldiers who could deal with more recoil, more wrenching forces, and harder kick," Giles pointed out, sounding slightly irritated at the question. "The armour was built to contain Clads, and the weapons had stronger punch because of this. All of the designs would have to be completely reworked…"

"And it’s easier to work on the one single problem of the Clads’ augmentations than it is to redesign a whole arsenal," Redmond finished, throwing Giles an annoyed glance.

"Precisely," the man said, perhaps a little too firmly. Bowman threw him a questioning look.

"Are you alright, Mr Giles?" Cheerilee asked quietly.

"I’m fine, Representative," Giles replied testily, and then he shook his head. "It’s just… this entire thing has been incredibly stressful."

"Made more so by some disturbing reports we’ve received," Bowman said quietly. He reached a hand into his coat pocket and withdrew something - a vial of orange liquid. Cheerilee and Sato stared at it wide eyed, and Redmond scowled.

"What is that?" he asked sharply.

"‘That’ is a new brand of potion a group of potion-bombers had on their hooves in London," Dr Bowman said.

"A new brand of potion?" Cheerilee repeated. "But without Solamina… Hell Blazer assured us that a lot of the more damaging properties were tied up in her magic, with her gone..."

"Hell Blazer might have been right about that," Bowman shrugged. "Like I said, not my area. But this stuff’s not ordinary potion. We don’t know exactly what it’s for - we don’t have the necessary equipment to analyse the magical formulas to our satisfaction - but if it’s new, one assumes they’ve done something new with it."

"And the Solaminan loyalists we keep hearing rumours about have this," Redmond stated more than asked. "They’ve already used it on humans."

"No," Giles began.

"But they intended to," Bowman added grimly. "One of the reasons I volunteered my services now - I was in London when the bombers tried their tricks. If it weren’t for Sir Eleanor of the Holy -"

"We already know about Sir Eleanor’s increased mobilisation of her order," Sato said, holding up a hand. "And her part in securing London and other places. Nonetheless, this potion presents a significant threat. We may need the Iron Clads sooner than we believe."

"How long will it take to fix the augmentations?" Cheerilee asked.

"Estimate is six months to a year," Giles said, looking rather awkward.

"Make it five months," Redmond ordered, still scowling, as though the very idea of Solaminan Loyalists made him furious. "We need those troops sooner rather than later. And redouble your efforts on analysing that potion - I want to know what we’re fighting."

Dr Bowman sighed, throwing Giles a look. The older-looking man nodded tiredly.

"I’ll see to it, sir," he said. And with that, he walked out, Dr Bowman following.

"You ask a lot of them," Sato said quietly. "We’re not at war anymore, General."

"Not yet we’re not," Redmond growled. "But I want to be ready for when we are. I will not preside over another conflict like the Solaminan War."

***

"Military minds don’t change much," Dr Bowman said idly.

"Indeed," Giles said idly, rubbing his head. The entire conversation had left him feeling more irritated than he normally did - maybe he was getting old. "I must thank you for your assistance on the project - I only wish you could stay."

"Me too," Dr Bowman said with a grin, apparently not noticing Giles’ irritation, "but duty calls and I have a lot of places to be."

"I’m sure you do," Giles said with a sigh. "You’re sure I can’t convince you to stay on?"

"Afraid not," Bowman said with a sad smile. "There’s a lot of things I’d like to do, and the war being over makes it easier to do ‘em. I’m glad I could be of some help, though."

"That you have been," Giles said. "Where will you go now?"

"Oh, I’ll likely be around," Dr Bowman said with a grin. "I owe a few humans and a few more ponies some favours - and not just ‘round here. You take care, Rupert."

"And you," Giles replied.

"No, I mean take care," Dr Bowman repeated, this time more insistently. "There’s more at work than you think there is: don’t discount the Solaminan Remnant yet. There’s more to them than you think."

Giles frowned, not sure what Bowman meant by that, but not liking the sound of it in any case.

"What does that mean?" he asked, scowling. "Do you know something?"

Dr Bowman sighed. "Look, this is all venturing into ‘spoilers’ territory and I really shouldn’t go there. I do know what this potion is, or I know what it might be anyway."

At this, Giles blinked in shock, before clutching at Bowman's arm.

"Then tell me!" he hissed, eyes wide at this surprising revelation - he didn't care how this man knew something (though he knew he probably should), so caught up he was by the simple fact that he did.

"I... I can't," Bowman said softly, extricating himself.

"You have to!" Giles insisted. "You might be able to prevent a catastrophe!"

"If everything plays out like I think it might, I won’t need to prevent anything," Bowman said, but he sighed. "Look, I’ve made some preliminary notes that you’ll find in your office - there’s nothing concrete there, but it’s enough to tell you it’s dangerous, and that is why you must not allow it to be used, and you must keep going with your own research."

"How can you possibly know all of this?!" Giles asked.

"The same way I know how to make powered armour work, Rupert," Bowman said with a sad smile. "We've met before, a long time ago from where I'm sitting, and I was as much of an expert then as I am now."

Giles blinked at this. "What do you...?"

"I've said too much," Bowman sighed, holding up a hand. "I'm sorry."

"I… can't say this makes any sense," Giles said, frowning. "Are you sure you can’t…?"

"I’ve said too much," Dr Bowman repeated, shaking his head. "Just… be careful, Rupert. Please."

"I will be," Giles nodded, not altogether happy with any of this. "Thank you."

"Hopefully," Bowman said, "we'll meet again."

Giles watched as Bowman walked off. He sighed - there was a lot to do, and not as much time to do it as he would have liked - and Dr Bowman’s warning didn’t exactly fill him with confidence. He closed his eyes, ignoring his headache and the persistent feeling of being watched by something.

Still - he sighed as he looked at the vial of livid orange potion. At least they had a lead, and at least they had something. For that, at least, he had to be grateful.

***