Through the dissection I found that Zebras had well-toned muscle, possibly from years of strenuous exercise. This quality I've seen paralleled in Elites. There wasn't much of it, but the muscle tissue seemed to react mostly in sync, leading to increased strength. I further examined the body's guts.

The stomach revealed some basic meats and other sources of protein as well as something like hardtack. There wasn't much in it, indicating he probably ate before his op went live. I wasn't finding anything anomalous in the guts, so I examined the chest cavity.

The lungs proved to be capable of extreme oxygen intake. Possibly an effect of adrenaline. The heart was exceptionally healthy, almost a prime example of an Olympian's heart. Better oxygen intake... better blood flow... more responsive muscles... this guy was an athlete by any definition. His lean build suggested he was a runner. I examined the vocal folds next.

They didn't seem to have been through much use. He was clearly of the strong silent type. To bad it didn't pay off for him. I noticed he still had one eye left, so I examined that too.

The eye appeared to have great light reception, but without a brain to examine I wasn't going to be able to tell how well he could interpret what he saw. All I know is he could see very well. He was a prime example of a soldier. From what I've studied of Sangheili culture, it seemed that Caesar's regimes were very similar to an Elite's training. This was not good news for Equestria.

Quiet, strong, perceptive, and enduring. All traits that I've used to describe my ideal soldier. The mind was all that I was interested in now. I made note in my science logs of this autopsy. I would compare it to any medical records Equestria had to see how it would compare. I doubted Equestria, with a thousand years of peace, would have very good fighters.

Another thing caught my eye; the robe he had with him. The other one decloaked when he dropped the hood. I pulled up the garb, inspecting it. It looked just like any old robe to me, but the gem in its center was what caught my eye. An Active Camouflage talisman? I'd need Spectacles to examine it. It's more of his field than mine.

*BAP* *BAP* *BAP* *BAP*

The turret outside was engaging something. I grabbed my (now fully loaded) BR and ran outside. I saw Aegis flying like a bat out of hell, trying his best to dodge the auto-turret's fire. I quickly shut off the turret.

“Are you TRYING to kill me?!” He yelled at me.

“Sorry, Aegis. We just had some uninvited guests give us a run for our money. What brings you here, anyway?” It didn't look like he was hurt, just a little winded.

“I came here to tell you that the chemical analysis of that cup of coffee you got me said it had trace amounts of cocaine in it. That didn't happen to come from Donut Joe's, did it? Half the science team goes there.”

“Negative, it came from Starbucked.”

“Well, darn, the other half goes there. We were in a bit of a stalemate over which coffee shop was better. Donut Joe's always had an edge, though, always selling donuts... Well, do what you may with this intel, I've got to break the news to the science team. Hopefully I can collect on the betting pool we've had.”

“You do that. I'll go see what I can do about this.” He flew off, in all his griffon-ness.

Looks like Starfire and I have another op to wrap up. I activated the turret again, this time adding the science guys from the Nerve Center to its IFF. I also had Al Capony on my to-do list, and not much patience for him. I walked back to the barracks, pulling open Footfall's report of his compound.

It said he had two armed guards out front, but apparently many more inside. Four more had joined those two when Footfall was found panicking at their doorstep. They mentioned that Al Capony was at the top, specifically: “-the boss up top.” The guards were armed with 9mm pistols, but a few inside had rifles. The rifles I was concerned about, the pistols not so much. The guards I'd estimate to number in the fifties, given this being preliminary recon of only the front door security detail. Given the ratio of 9mm to rifles, I expected the guards to get gradually more well armed as things progressed inwards. If I wanted to get to Capony, I'd half to either be extremely sneaky, or really fast.

Luckily, I was more suited than most for that, but Pizza was only suited for running. I would like another Spartan with me in there, so I'd best wait on making my play. Give Pizza time to recover. In the mean time, there was Starbucked to worry about.

“Starfire, rendezvous in the mess hall in five mikes,” I yelled through the HQ.

“Yes, sir,” came her response, echoing from the range.

“So you want me to provide a diversion out front, so we can both slip in through the back?”

“Exactly. I've contacted the Lunar Guard about this, and they'll help out. They've requisitioned a carriage for us. It'll be right in front of the café. I want you to place a remote explosive under it. We'll stack up at the back door, planting a breaching charge synced to the same detonator as the carriage bomb. The breaching charge is a lot quieter, so it'll go unnoticed. Additionally, Celestia has requested that we don't kill anyone this time, so we'll be stuck with TTR and tasers. Bureaucratic bullshit if you ask me, so I'd pack some more lethal alternatives if I were you.”

“So what should I bring?”

“One ANFO bomb, maybe 15 pounds. I want a big boom. Five shaped plastiqué charges, they don't need to be that big. One rifle with TTR rounds. One 500,000 volt taser. A combat knife. And finally a sidearm with some teeth: a .45 or greater, if we have to go lethal, I don't want to leave behind wounded. You got that?”

“15 lbs of ANFO, five shaped charges of C-4, a rifle loaded with TTR, a taser, a knife, and a pistol. Anything else?”

“Don't forget to include two remote detonators linked to the same remote. We're going to have to be fast about this. I wouldn't include anything else except for your armor. We need to be light about this in order to be fast, but I don't want any casualties.”

“Two detonators and one remote, plus armor. Got it. When should we strike?”

“Dawn. Just when the sun is visible over the horizon. Also, I'm not to keen on how Spectacles may react to us raiding his favorite coffee shop. I'd keep him out of the loop until it's all said and done.”

“Solid copy, sir. I'll go get ready.”

Starfire trotted off toward the arms lockers next to the HMG at the shooting range. I saw Spectacles walk up to me.

“This might seem like an odd thing to ask, but do you know who left a dissected Zebra in my workshop?”

The light levels were picking up. The moon was beginning to set (which apparently in Equestria means the night is almost over). Starfire had placed the charges. I had the detonator in hand. My eyes were glued to the motion sensor. I didn't want to frag any passing civilians. The contacts moved farther inside the structure. All clear.

The first rays of sunshine lanced down through the partly cloudy skies. “Clear,” I muttered.

*KaBOOM* The charges went off in tandem; I heard only one explosion. We rushed into the coffee shop without making a sound, aside from the clattering of the Steel Ranger armor. The inside was almost too strong for me to handle, but I managed to keep it together. My BR was loaded with TTR, but it would still hurt like hell up close. I swept left to right.

Workers, three in total, were in this room. “Crimson Guard, get down on the ground!” I yelled at them. One followed suit, the other two hesitated. I kicked one in the gut (gently!) and he doubled over. I followed up with a buttstroke to the back of the head, knocking him flat on the ground and unconscious. Starfire had tased the other down and had cuffed him.

“Room secure,” she said.

“Clear the front, I'll search this area,” I said as I cuffed the one who followed my instructions, then the other one who hadn't. I opened several overhead cabinets, not finding anything particularly incriminating. I checked the freezer. Nothing. Thinking about how hard I hit Mr. Sleepy, I figured I should give him a hand.

I grabbed a bag of peas before shutting the freezer and placed them on the back of his head. “What are you doing?” asked the one who listened.

“Conducting an investigation,” I deadpanned.

“Clear, but some civvies are looking into the explosion,” Starfire shouted from the front room.

“Under whose authority?” he asked.

“I don't have time to talk about it,” I said, still searching the room.

“Can I see your warrant? You can't search this place without a warrant. Anything you find will be inadmissible in a-”

“Here's my warrant,” I kicked his face, having him make like Mr. Sleepy, though with a broken nose.

“Sir, I'm not finding anything up front, how about you?” Starfire asked, joining me in the back.

“Nothing, just a headache of legal jargon and a few bags of peas,” then it hit me. “Wait...what are peas doing in a coffee shop?” I looked over at Mr. Sleepy.

Starfire and I both glanced at one another, then we started stalking towards the bag of peas that shouldn't be. I grabbed the bag off of Mr. Sleepy's head. I drew my combat knife from its hidden vambrace compartment. I put the knife up to the bag, and cut it open. I peeled open the bag to see what was inside. White powder.

“Bingo,” I said.

“I don't think that's caffeine, sir.”

“Looks like we've found out the secret ingredient that makes Starbucked so irresistible. Come on, let's shut this place down, maybe Spectacles can get some much-needed sleep.”

We found some duct tape in a supply closet and placed large Xs on the windows and doors. I added a makeshift sign that said: “Closed due to drug trafficking, please try Donut Joe's”. That'll give the eggheads a laugh. I fetched the rest of the bags of peas, checking each one for cocaine. All of them, except one, had the drug in it. Most likely the decoy bag for whenever an investigator came by.

We contacted the local police and told them what happened, and presented the evidence for the case. We also handed over the workers we detained on-site. Looks like the police we're having their job done for them. Charges were quickly being filed. Now we just had to deal with Al Capony.

But it couldn't be so cut-and-dry, now could it?

“Joe,” Celestia began, “the charges against the Starbucked franchise are being dropped, seeing as the evidence against them was illegally obtained without a warrant. What can you say for yourself?”

“Charge 'em with treason, instead. Either one or the other would do.” Did I mention I hate court, especially case-building?

“What? Joe, we need two witness testimonies or a confession in order to charge them with treason. And they needed to act in aid of an enemy of Equestria, not your UNSC.”

“Then I have Spectacles and Starfire under my command as witnesses. They were both sold cocaine-tainted coffee from the Starbucked franchise. Cocaine has adverse side-effects that could make an otherwise ideal soldier perform sub-par. It can also cause sudden cardiac arrest, too. This could be viewed as an indirect attempt to assassinate various military or other high-ranking officials, due to the locale being in Canterlot, the nerve center of Equestria, both politically and militarily. With the land in a state of war with the Zebras, they would be aiding the Striped Menace.

“Additionally, do to the hindrances their tainted coffee instills, I now view their whole franchise as an enemy of the UNSC, with them having hindered or attempted to hinder assets critical to a UNSC Spartan deployment. As a soldier of the UNSC, it is now my duty to neutralize Starbucked-brand coffee for the war effort against Jul Mdama, due to it posing a potential risk to vital personnel and assets. If you wish to protect them, I will contact the UNSC Infinity and inform them of the situation.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I'm just informing you of what protocol will have me do, based upon your choice of action. Be it of note, if you abide by your law and press treason charges against Starbucked, then I will make note of it in my debrief onboard the Infinity, informing them of the helpfulness of the government of Equestria.”

“That sounds a bit less of a threat.”

“War is not something I wish to start. As a soldier, that ain't my job. Fighting it is.”

“So... are you sure about these charges and your witness' testimonies?”

“Affirmative, milady.”

“Then I'll go and inform the courts about these proceedings. Treason is not a common crime in Equestria.”

“That's because it takes some serious balls to commit it... or a big enough incentive.”

“What are you hinting at?”

“I think a full investigation should occur at all Starbucked locations, see if there's any link to bribery, espionage, blackmail, or kidnapping (in an attempt to leverage support). This should be done separately from this case, to make the charges clean-cut. Those who had family on the line could be exonerated afterwards.”

“Sounds like a plan, but I don't think we have the horsepower to accomplish such a large scale investigation.”

“Then just shut down all the cafés. Make an example of them, for being traitors.”

“'Traitor' is not a word commonly used in Equestria.”

“Well, it is the legal term for someone who commits treason.”

“Very well, but the manager of the franchise you raided is trying to press assault charges against you.”

“Ha,” I laughed, “Is he really? Last I checked, you can't charge a soldier for attacking the enemy. Go forth with the assault charges, but not until after the treason case.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hell yeah, ma'am. Imagine the headlines: 'Treasonous Franchise Charges Special Forces Investigator with Assault Charges'. The charges would never stick. Even if I plead guilty, I'd be jury-nullified.”

“Sounds like you know quite a bit about our legal system.”

“It's just like the UNSC's, with only a few less caveats. I also watched a few court cases in my free time. Helped keep me out of jury duty. Knowing about jury nullification can do that to a person.”

“I see, but for the sake of the matter, will you appear in court?”

“Only if I'm needed, and if it won't interfere with my deployment. Spectacles and Starfire will be presenting their testimony. Starfire was with me in the collection of the evidence. She actually did more work than me. I don't see why my being there would make any difference. If my schedule is clear, I'll see if I can swing by.”

“Excellent. Now, I'm going to have to talk to some legal teams about these charges, you should see Luna. She said something about a debrief?”

“Right away, ma'am.” I saluted, then left the main hall and found my way to the observatory.

Luna was waiting for me there, along with the Stalliongrad Survivors. “You wanted to see me, ma'am?” I asked.

“Yes, I just needed your account of what happened in Stalliongrad.”

“I'll start from when you teleported me. I found myself at 48000 feet, so I dove into the fray that was going on down below. I guided myself onto a tower, eliminated the sniper team there, then engaged other Zebra targets. Once I emptied a magazine, I went on to another hide, not wanting to be detected. I found an enemy jammer which was preventing me from communicating with the ground forces, so I destroyed that, which seemed to catch the attention of the jammer's operators.

“I then went groundside and linked up with friendly forces. From there I organized a push out of the city center, first clearing a path, making a diversion, then making a smokescreen to evacuate the civilians under. We got out with no civilian casualties, though only the three soldiers with us now were left of the original forces defending the city.

“We evaced via the metro system of Stalliongrad, which found us in the middle of a forest in extreme cold. Spectacles flew evac for the civilians out of the forest and to Canterlot, but he could only carry so many at a time. Canterlot was very far away, so we were left without evac for lengthy periods of time. No operational thermal equipment made it harder to survive.

“My team tried our hardest to make the environment a little more hospitable, burning the local foliage and even using our ammo to start fires. The cold however, was quick to snuff those flames. When the civilians started succumbing to the cold, we would strip them of their cold-weather gear and provide it to those who could make use of it. Aside from that, we did not loot the dead.

“By the time we had evaced most of them, the cold was unendurable, even for a Spartan. We had to use what little ammo we had left to burn the dead for heat. From then on, we didn't see very many more fall to the cold. We didn't have a single round left by the time the last bird arrived.

“But there wasn't enough room for everyone. I volunteered to stay behind alongside a few others. I started up a conversation to keep our minds off of the cold. It seemed to work fine, but I found out that we had made a poor decision upon returning to Crimson HQ.

“Two Zebra agents ambushed us, and right now one of our operatives is in critical condition, but we managed to defeat them. One Zebra was killed, another critically wounded. I had him sent to the local hospital under heavy guard. When he comes to, I'd like to interrogate him further. I dissected the Zebra that I killed, trying to see what made him so much more effective than a pony in CQB. That pretty much brings us up to now.”

“You did what to a fallen enemy?”

“I dissected him. I thought I made that clear.”

“Joe, that can be viewed as a war crime!”

“Good thing the UNSC hasn't declared war against the Zebras, then.”

“This isn't about the UNSC, it's about Equestria. What will the public think if they hear about this?”

“What makes you think they'll hear about it? We are the one force covered in the most black ink. If anything pops up, I'm sure the MoI could pass it off as a rumor. If not, I could just fudge a few facts about it, then publish the deceptive report.”

“Joe, it is unwise to keep the public out of the know. The more they know about the war, the easier it will be to fight it and gain public support.”

“Bottom line: they were spies. I found them and fought them. We can't let them go or else they'll report their findings to Caesar. I'll need to make sure about how much they know, then I'll see what I can do. Do we have any POW camps in the area?”

“Yes, just across the bridge, outside the city, but I can't have you going too far with this war. We need to prove ourselves better than the enemy, not more monstrous. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma'am, but I am a soldier. Not only that, I've seen what it's like to lose everything. I am not going to let that happen to Equestria. I've lost so many battles, so many lives... I just want to be able to say 'We won' one more time, and have it be true. The Human-Covenant war wasn't much of a victory, but we survived. Now I have to keep a lookout for Jul Mdama because he thinks we haven't won just yet. I don't want the same to happen here, nor anywhere. Maybe if you could understand my pain, you would understand why I fight...”

“Your pain is solely your own, Spartan, but I do feel for you. I could not even imagine the kind of travail you have endured.”

“I can only fight for what I believe in. And I believe in a lot of things.”

The hospital was rather clean, but a little too cramped for my liking. I found Daze and Fencing in a room next to the stabilized Zebra infiltrator. “Boys, why don't you step outside for a bit?”

“Right away, sir,” the two responded.

I waited until I heard the door click shut. I drew my knife.

The Zebra was still breathing, but he didn't appear conscious. I turned down the morphine to wake him up. His heart rate picked up, but he remained still... curious.

I reached my knife towards one of his hind legs. “Don't worry, I'll be gentle...” I muttered as I slowly moved the knife up his hind leg, just brushing the top of the covers, making sure to stay out of his striking distance.

As I danced the blade further up his thigh I saw little beads of sweat forming on his brow, but he still didn't dare move. I exhibited “mildly sociopathic behavior” indeed; I moved the blade right atop his boy bits. I thought I saw him flinch.

“Wakey wakey,” was my only warning.

Nothing.

I lanced the knife clean through his junk, gelding him swiftly.

He wailed like a banshee (the mythical creature, not the Covie air support) as he shot straight up in bed, pulling his restraints taught. I put my other hand forward and shoved him back. He curled up into a ball as best he could.

“Now, you're going to tell me everything I want to know. If you hurry, the doctors might be able to salvage some bits and pieces. If not, I am capable of doing worse.”

He just laid there and sobbed, but it looked like he nodded his head in the affirmative.

“First off, what intelligence did you gather on the subterranean facility?” I had to watch my phrasing, reverse interrogation and all that jazz.

“Caesar... wanted us to... find the Daemon... of the North.”

“He's still sore about that little escapade? I did sink half his fleet, though... Why did he choose you?”

“We were... quiet, the most... indiscernible.” He was starting to compose his words a bit better, coping with the pain surprisingly well.

“And yet you fell short. Why do you think that is?”

“The stars have... gifted you. You are a daemon of unimaginable strength..”

“Yeah, right. Superstition hints at solutions, yet is not one in and of itself. You failed because we were better. You may have had a pair of Kings, but I'm all Aces.”

“Then gambling is your vice.”

“Nope, it's a pastime. Vice is what routes you. Virtue is what saves you. When did you start following us?”

“The North... we were meant to find you.”

“And Stalliongrad was North enough, or were you en route?”

“Yes, it was sufficient.”

“You camped out for me and my team. What's the source of your intel?”

“You call him... Chuck Finley.”

My blood ran cold. Not just because of the name... a name kept amongst my team exclusively, but also because I noticed the Zebra was a mare. And Zebras are incredibly strong.

She sprung around, the restraints giving out under such a force. My earlier lancing was not as effective as I'd hoped at disabling her. I dodged to the right, and pushed the Zebra onward... and out the window.

I heard a distinctive splat followed by some screams from below. I peered out the window. Confirm on Zebra pancake. Kind of ironic that the one that almost killed Pizza wound up as one in the end.

Fencing and Daze rushed into the room, weapons at the ready. “Well, our asset just went out the window... literally. It looks like things are getting a bit more complicated.”

“What did he say sir?” Daze asked.

“Not enough, that's what.”

“Well, what do we do now?” Fencing asked.

“Find out more.”

Luckily the Zebra's brain had remained mostly intact, and I managed to get my hands on it. I was comparing it to both a pony's, and my own. Several regions of the brain were much more similar to mine than a pony's, especially the regions in charge of reactions and higher thought processes. Regions that were lacking were the ones that acted like a moral regulator.

Pizza was still out, and Lyra was still watching over him. I walked up behind her. She was sitting like a human, which was odd for a pony. I reached out and started massaging her shoulders. She was tense, but I was careful to be gentle.

“Thanks,” she cooed.

I silently kept up the massage. “I should be thanking you, for keeping an eye on Pizza. He means the world to me, no homo though. I haven't seen too many ponies sit like you do.”

“I like to sit like this. And I have never seen someone take such a beating and survive...”

“You know what they say: you can't stop a leatherneck, we adapt and survive.”

“Guess that's true. They also say there isn't an atheist in a foxhole.”

“Most find something to believe in before they hop in. Most go with God, but I'm not too keen on such an idea. If we're fighting with God on our side, who would stand against us? Instead, I carry hope on my shoulders through every battlefield. Hope will keep you going when you ought not to be.”

“And what if hope runs out?”

I sat down next to her, both of us gazing at Pizza's unconscious form. “If you can't run, then you crawl. And if you can't do that, you find someone else to carry you. Everyone has something worth fighting for, even if they don't know it. Keep fighting, keep them fighting, and you'll find it.”

“But what if there is no hope to begin with?”

“I think of hope like probabilities. Like there ain't much hope in me walking over to the Caesar and shoving an M69 Frag grenade up his ass... but there is a non-zero probability. No matter the odds, storms can be weathered. Hope is how we fight.”

“But what are we fighting for? It seems worthless compared to the loss of life.”

“We fight for a brighter tomorrow. Even if we can't see it, others will, and that's what's worth the fight. The dead however, are never worth it. I still think Patton had the right idea of how wars should go: one general versus another, until the other is defeated. No soldiers, just the generals. Things would be better that way, don't you think?”

“Yeah, but putting so much weight into a single fight doesn't seem very good for a nation's people.”

“And that's why there is more than just generals in a war. Damn shame, too.”

We sat quietly for a while. She snuggled up against me, but my armor stopped me from feeling her warm fur. I wrapped an arm around her. She had some ways to go, but she would go far. I'd be sure of it. Time ticked on by.

“Why did you go all batty?” Lyra asked.

“I found something worth fighting for. Something bigger than myself; a plan B for Equestria. Almost killed me, too. I still haven't gotten used to those wings yet.”

“What I mean to say is, why did you choose to change who are?”

“I didn't actually. One's character is in their heart. One's abilities is in their body and mind. I am just as I was before the procedure, but I may have grown a bit more in character.”

“You sound like you know a lot. Where did you study?”

“Never went to college myself, surprisingly. Barely made it out of high school. Dominated the ASVAB, though. Never stop reading, is my tip. Colleges just seem to only want your money. Schools just want you to pass the standardized testing so they can get more funding. Greed drives education. Passion drives intelligence.”

“Hmm... never thought of it that way. So, after all of this, I shouldn't go to university?”

“Well, it depends what you want to do. If you want to have good money, a good job, and a good house, college is definitely the way to go. Me? I wasn't looking for a job, I was looking for revenge and a paid passion. Turns out I could get both by signing up for the military.”

“But what about family?”

“Depends what you define as family. Brothers-in-arms are brothers for for life, sums it up for me. I never actually wanted to settle down and start a family... yet. The day will come, but it is far off.”

“Would you ever settle down, here in Equestria? I know this calm little town that's only a train ride away.”

“You know what... I'll probably move here outright. When this war ends -and it will end- I think this would be a nice place to live. Canterlot is just a bit too busy for me, reminds me of New Harmony.”

“New Harmony?”

“A mega-city on Mars. Very busy, military, and just a hop skip and a jump from Earth. Insurrectionists once tried to sneak a couple bombs from the military there.”

We sat together a bit more. Minutes ticked over to hours. I started hearing her snoring. I slowly got up, gently setting her down. She was cute when she was asleep. I was about to fetch her a blanket and pillow, but Lockheart was already on the scene.

“Goodnight, Lyra,” he whispered into her ear, placing the pillow and blanket.

“You must be proud of her,” I said.

“I am. Ruin her, and I'll ruin you.”

“I wouldn't even dream of it, Colonel. She is a nice mare.”

“Not the nicest. She takes too much after me. I joined the EAF a long time ago, against my parents advice. She did the same. Although I do not particularly approve of her choice, I must respect it.”

“Well said, Lockheart.”

“She cares for Pizza, you know?”

“I can see that.”

“But you don't see the weight of it. She really cares for Pizza, but she feels similarly about you.”

“And how do you know this? Dad-sense?”

“Partly, she has all of her mother's tells.”

“Best to keep her out of the casinos then.”

“Yeah. Let's get some grub, my treat.”

“If its in the mess hall, its free anyways.”

“As I said: my treat.”

I just had to grin at that.

I was prepping one of the most infamous drinks in the UNSC: Tarkov's War Cocktail. Fill a glass halfway with grain alcohol, add a shot of gasoline, a shot of detergent, a pinch of napalm coagulant, and top it all off by filling the rest of the glass with vodka. Now, if the war couldn't kill you, how could a measly drink drink? “One lifer, to another,” he raised his War Cocktail.

I raised my glass, “And to every son of a bitch in between.”

We had slammed back the nigh-lethal concoction. Tarkov knew his shit when it came to making a tough drink. The stuff guzzled down like molasses. I was still finding it funny that I snuggled up with the Colonel's daughter and ended up sharing drinks with him within the same hour.

As it turned out, Pizza, Solace, myself, and Lockheart are the only lifers in Crimson. Major Pane had only shot up through the ranks quickly, but still hadn't done much service.

Eventually we figured we should stop drinking and start trying to figure out the next steps to take. I made sure to leave out the part of Chuck Finley still being active.

“Alright, I'm a little buzzed, so we'll go back over this in the morning with sober minds.”

“It is the morning, Joe.”

I checked my clock. Damn, he was right. “Next morning, then. I think we should head back to Stalliongrad with the Canterlot One Hundred and retake the city. On our return, we'll say 'hello' to Al Capony. Sound good?”

“You're intoxicated, so no. But I am too, so yes. How about we get some sleep instead?”

I popped a salute, “Great plan, Colonel, sir.”

The sun was high in the sky by the time we awoke. Lyra was still with Pizza, while the Colonel and I were a bit hungover. I started up with a drink to help remedy that.

“This'll help, Lockheart,” I told him, passing him this pale yellow sludge of a drink.

“What exactly is 'this', anyways?”

“Seeing how hangovers are caused by dehydration of the brain as well as a corresponding lack of nutrients, I just threw together everything that was missing. I also added some painkillers to the mix.”

“You had me at 'painkillers',” he immediately took the drink, as did I. Gunshots told us the rest of the team was practicing. Hopefully this drink worked. Tarkov called in the “Reparation” to the “War Cocktail”.

“I see you've fortified again,” came a gentle voice from my six.

“Luna, didn't expect to see you down here.”

“Just coming by to see if you have any recommendations for space exploration.”

“Those horn-heads in the MAS finally decided to slip the surly bonds of Earth and touch the face of God?”

“It would seem so. Do you have any ideas?”

“Right this way.” I got up from the table and walked out the main door. Outside the HQ, the Pelican was resting easy. I stepped aboard and accessed the computer onboard. I pulled up ancient Earth rockets and extracted their schematics. I printed off the designs.

“This should do her. The Saturn-V rocket, it can carry over 100,000 pounds to a trans-lunar injection orbit. It worked fine for humanity some years ago.”

“This will be perfect. Also, the Canterlot One Hundred can handle themselves in a fight, but they seem to go through a substantial amount of ammo. I hope you can remedy this.”

“I better, we'll need them in an upcoming operation. Also, it seems that leak from Cloudsdale is still active and is working with the Zebras. I would recommend the Lunar Guard to route it. How about a little quid pro quo?”

“I'll get right to it. How has Pizza been doing?”

“He'll be fine, but he sure got a shellacking. Lyra won't leave his side. Send word to the Canterlot One Hundred to rally outside their barracks for additional training. I'd best get my team prepped.”

“Consider it done. Send Pizza my best wishes.”

“I will, ma'am.”

She took off, leaving me in the Pelican. I had a contact on my motion sensor, a friendly.

“What did Luna have to say?” Spectacles asked, sneaking up from behind.

“Canterlot One Hundred can't shoot for shit. Get your gun, and plenty of ammo. We're gonna have some fun.”

The Canterlot One Hundred seemed to pay very rapt attention to my squad standing in front of them. MCPO Daze, Major Pane, Colonel Lockheart, Rear Admiral Solace, Private Footfall, T/5 Keen Eye, CPL Starfire, PVT Fencing, Spectacles and myself all stared them down. Looking at the company's formation told me they were fourteen shy of the original 100. Well-met's victims not present.

“Today, you will learn how to shoot straight. Ammo may be cheap, but it is also finite. You're going to have to make every round count,” I said to the company.

“Sir, where's the other guy, from CQC training, sir?” Sgt. Numbskull said.

“Zebras almost did him in. Luckily the pack was too strong for Caesar's wolves. Grab your new rifles, we'll be heading out to Ponyville for this exercise. Bring your gear too.” The soldiers grabbed their saddlebags and fell in behind my team on the mother of all marches.

Hours past and we made it to Ponyville. I diverted the team to the North. The Everfree was about a mile to the West and three to the South of Ponyville when I stopped the team. They all looked exhausted, and even I felt some of their pain.

I had the men dig some foxholes, only giving them five minutes each. The rest of Crimson helped out with the drilling. Footfall had a tendency to sneak up behind the recruits and surprise them with vulgarities. He could swear like a longshoreman, though it didn't seem to be his nature.

Once they were dug in I had them ready their rifles. I had already placed a line of metal targets downrange. Time to see their accuracy. “Let the lead fly!” I yelled. The company didn't waste a second, but they treated it like a mad minute. Only a handful of rounds actually struck home. That would never do. “You're all a bunch of sissies. Crimson, show them how it's done!” I shouldered my BR.

Almost every round fired pinged off the targets. The rest of the boys seemed a fair bit surprised at this. I wasn't, we had already tuned our accuracy and firing discipline. I was here to pass on such disciplines to the Canterlot One Hundred.

“Company, can anypony tell me how you done fucked up?” I asked.

A lone LT yelled from his foxhole, “We got too excited?”

“I'll take that. Where I'm from it's called 'Buck Fever'. The thrill of the kill makes you hurry the shot. Now, reload and try that again, but be patient this time. And take your guns off of automatic, you won't hit anything that way.” I heard mags slam home in receivers, then firing switches toggle over to a less rapid setting. “Shooters ready?” I didn't hear any negatives. “Commence fire!”

Several more pings sounded off downrange. I smiled a little behind my golden visor. So they could learn.

Time inched by, the sun no longer graced the hardened faces of these soldiers, the moon rose high into the night sky, then the last round echoed out. The cool night air was welcomed to their sweat-stained fatigues and exhausted muscles. “Cease fire,” my order range out, seeming to echo through the environment.

I saw more than a few collapse on their guns. Many were rubbing their shoulders. Not much was left of the steel targets. I only had one mag left. After the ambush at the HQ, I'd always keep some extra ammo on hand. They had gotten pretty damn good with the new weapons. Given the disarray of the Mafia, these new guns would most likely actually get to the other soldiers across the land, instead of being intercepted. It was one hell of a trial run.

“Damn fine work, boys. Let's RTB and rest up.” I made sure to go at a slower marching pace than before. They earned it. We left the emplacements behind, being too tired to fill in the foxholes anyways. The march was long and tedious, but welcome. The sun was brutal today, the moon was much more kind.

The Canterlot One Hundred quickly got in their barracks. I lead the rest of my team to the HQ, keeping a close eye on my motion sensor. All clear. I waved them through the door, but I was also hearing some gunfire from inside. I kept a firm grip on my BR.

The report was that of a DMR. To my surprise, Pizza was at the shooting range. “Hey, you ain't dead!” I told him.

“Well, death came for me, but he didn't what none of this, so he left. Plus Lyra wouldn't let me go.”

I looked behind Pizza and found Lyra at the spotter table. I slapped Pizza's pauldron, “You up for some logistics?”

“Only if the doc green lights it,” Pizza shoved a thumb back towards Lyra.

“If you can shoot, you can scoot.”

“Fine, but let me finish this mag.” Seven more rounds rang out, then the rifle went *click*.

“Now?”

“Sure. What are we moving?”

“Every scrap of UNSC gear. This HQ currently houses some classified UNSC materiel, and is compromised by UNSC standards, which will not suffice. The Equestrian gear can stay, though. All native tech here can be found elsewhere.”

“Should I grab the Pelican?”

“Yeah, and be sure to rig up a pair of Spectacles' Mongooses to it, too. We'll be leaving the bird at Bravo Base.”

“Copy that.” Pizza ran out to grab the Pelican, I moved to the back storage area that previously served as our med bay. I moved several UNSC crates outside the HQ and left them for Pizza to place aboard the Pelican.

“What's all this?” Solace asked, seeing the crates.

“We're moving our classified materials to some place safer. Caesar may know of this HQ, but he doesn't know what it holds. I'd like to leave it like that.”

“Need any help?”

“Negative. Only UNSC personnel should handle these crates. Better compartmentalizes any valuable intel pertaining to the gear.”

“Understood,” he left.

The last crate was moved, and the Mantis got rigged up. The HQ was siphoning power from the Castle yet again. “We're ready for takeoff, care to specialize a location?” Pizza asked.

“I'll fly this bird, we're headed back to our old LZ. There's a carbon copy of the HQ there, though it is powered down.”

“Once more unto the breach...”

“You said it.”

The gear was stored without incident, and we drove the Mongooses Spectacles engineered back to Canterlot posthaste. The Mongooses handled just like the UNSC versions. I'd better give my thanks to Spectacles. He even put a switch labeled “WEP” between the handlebars. Wartime Emergency Power, it's just as effective as it sounds. Better save it for when I need it.

The Mongoose, at least in my history, is known for being able to go wherever you want it. I managed to drive it all the way through into the HQ with ease. Pizza parked his Goose next to mine, right by the entrance.

“Spectacles, those Mongooses you made worked perfectly.” He didn't seem to hear. Instead I heard the sound of arc welding coming from the workshop. “Go get some rest, Pizza. Those wounds aren't fully healed just yet.” He made his way to the mess. I made my way to the workshop.

The polarization automatically increased on my visor. I waited for him to finish up the weld. “Spectacles, glad to see you're still working hard.”

“Why yes I am. Right now I'm working on a much more combat effective variant of the Steel Ranger armor. The Mk Is had some difficulties in Well-met. The Mk IIIs were decent in Stalliongrad, but none of them have performed how I wanted them to. I've made several revisions, but each one doesn't quite have what it takes. Do you have any pointers?”

“Well, Mjolnir uses synthetic muscles for augmented movement. It also has a ballistic gel layer. The gel layer acts as a non-Newtonian fluid, hardening upon high-velocity impacts, yet liquid at slow speeds, like one's movements. Pretty good at blocking bullets, I'd say.”

“Non-Newtonian fluids... that might just work for this.”

“What version are you on now, Mk IV?”

“Mk XXV.”

“Twenty-five? Jesus, you do not stop working, do you?”

“I always have other projects if I ever need a break from one. For example: I've managed to compact the Gauss Rifle design from the Warthog, and made a one-pony portable version of it. The only problem is the power source. I can't find one effective enough that is light enough to carry. I guess a generator would could work, but the lightest one of those I can find is 800 pounds.”

“Have you tried using talismans? They worked great for the Transmogrification Armor Ability.”

“I can't get my hooves on enough gems to make it feasible for mainline production. I'm making the Steel Ranger armor for a regular army, not just a Special Forces team.”

“Have you tried contacting the MAS about this?”

“Armor production is covered by the MWT, not the MAS. Any other attempts would have to go through the OIA, and they're a pain in the flank that takes forever to get you what you want.”

“Then just ask Luna or Celestia. Either one could get something done much faster.”

“I have too much on my plate already, do you think you could talk to them about it?”

“At the first chance. Your Mongooses were great in the field today.”

“One more thing: Ironshod Firearms has accepted the AM rifle design. But I think they're calling it an Anti-Machine rifle, not Anti-Materiel, like the UNSC.”

“Sounds like progress. You ready for some more Crimson Actual?”

“Another operation is ready?”

“I made a promise to retake Stalliongrad. The Survivors and the One Hundred will be available for us.”

“Alright, when will it launch?”

“Hopefully soon. Don't want to keep the refugees waiting.”

“I see. Do you have anything that could stack the deck in our favor?”

“The Benevolent Exchange.”

“That'll do it! Send me word when all is ready.”

“I'll be sure to do that. See you around.” I left Spectacles to his work, and headed out to check up on the rest of the team. I found Lyra in the barracks, reading a book as she watched over Pizza as he dozed off with a couple of ration wrappers laying on his bed. She also had a cardboard box under her bed.

“Joe, glad to see you. I've got a gift for you and Pizza, but Pizza is kinda asleep. What do you think? I had it imported from the Griffin Kingdoms, seeing as leather-working is illegal in Equestria, for certain ethical reasons.” She opened up the box with her magic and pulled out a pair of flawless dusters. They were dark brown, and all leather, with sleeves that stopped just above the elbows. The shimmered off of them in a way that emphasized their new-ness. It even smelled brand new.

“Wow! These are amazing!” I quickly donned the duster, and it actually fit over Mjolnir rather easily. The tail went down to below my knees. Pretty damn good, if I say so myself. “Pizza will just love this, thanks.”

“Don't mention it. I've always figured you deserved more appreciation from Equestria.”

“Well, after over two decades of war, it is more than appreciated.”

“Two decades? That's how long you and Pizza have been fighting?”

“Eeyup. The Human-Covenant War started in 2525, when I was five years old. When I was seventeen, I enlisted, a year too early mind you. Then, I fought and fought and fought some more, and haven't stopped fighting since. Hell, even when I was on furlough the Covenant still found me and I fought then, too.”

“Wow, quite the career.”

“And let's not even get started with cross-training and the Helljumpers. Pizza talked me into that outfit. He'll love his duster, I can tell you that.”

“Thanks, that means a lot to me.”

“It means more to me, finally getting thanks for everything. It's been a long road to get here, and there's an even longer one ahead.” I left Lyra with Pizza and her book. I headed to the mess to get some more grub, and then I headed to bed with the rest of the team.

I was in a muddy trench. Fog was thick, only a hundred yards' visibility. I ducked down as I walked into the command center. This was definitely a permanent structure. The trench had wooden floors and several amenities that ought not to be on a battlefield. There was an old radio kit sitting on a table. Orders were being barked over it, but I couldn't understand what was being said.

I clutched my rifle a bit more firmly and I moved down the trench. I noticed I held the M1903 Springfield. I also noticed I didn't have Mjolnir. Something was up, but I felt the M1 Helmet atop my head and the green fatigues around my body. At least I found comfort in that.

What was disquieting was the number of Swastikas in this trench. I shouldered my rifle, and advanced carefully. “Halt!” I heard somebody yell.

I dropped down, spinning 180, and fired. *POW* The round struck the hostile square in the chest. He collapsed instantly. He probably wasn't alone. I hurried out of command center, leaving a frag behind.

I looked out to either side of the trench. Fog and fog. I had no sense of direction, but it looked like the fog was thickening. Either one or the other will get me to allied lines. I hopped out to the right and ran in that direction. I heard what sounded like a buzz saw going off to my front. At least I was going the right way.

I doubled my pace, stopping after a few hundred yards, in a treeline. I could see the muzzle flashes up ahead, they matched that buzz saw sound I heard. I took aim. The rear sight aperture took a little getting used to. I adjusted it for 100 yards.

Next I flipped the toggle to “Off” for the magazine. I chambered a new round and took aim. Safety off. *POW* Miss: low, a little left. I adjusted the sights again. I pulled open the bolt and placed in another round. The bolt slid home, and I took aim again.

*POW* Direct hit. I switched the magazine back on and ran towards where the MG42 was firing. No one was there. Not even bodies. I looked around. Not even the MG nest had bodies in it. No one was anywhere.

Come to think of it, that man I shot earlier in the trench, I don't recall seeing a head nor hands. Only the ancient uniform of the German Army. There was more distant gunfire, I could feel my heart racing. I fixed my bayonet to the Springfield.

The gunfire was getting closer. I just stayed there, feebly pointing the .30-06 in the direction of it. I couldn't see anything beyond the fog, but I swear that's where the fighting was. Then I heard it behind me. I turned around. The cold weather was starting to get to me. My rifle shook slightly.

I heard a whistle blow from where the MG42 was, signaling an incoming bayonet charge. I jumped out of the hole I was in and headed the other direction. I could here screams and war cries following me, getting closer and closer.

I stopped and spun around. I saw silhouettes shift in the fog. I brought up my rifle. Gazing through my sights was nothing, just more fog. The silhouettes vanished as the fog thickened, leaving my just as clueless as before. The screams stopped shortly thereafter. “What the-?” I muttered, being interrupted by a very different kind of whistling.

The shells landed 30 yards to my front, landing me on my ass. I turned around, trying to get clear, scrambling to my feet. The whistling never stopped, it only grew with each passing second. I dove into another trench, shrapnel screeching through the air over my head. Without warning, a shell landed right between my legs. “It's the shell you don't hear that kills you...” I heard a voice in the fog echo.

The shell didn't go off, so I jumped out of the trench, not giving it the chance to. Back onto the battlefield for me. Just as soon as it started, like the bayonet rush, the shelling stopped. The shell in the trench never blew.

I stood there, in the muddy field of No Man's Land, not knowing what was happening. My heart pounded in my chest. Then, the fog cleared, the sun gracing the cloudy sky. I was on an island.

Overhead, through a gap in the clouds, I saw a B-29 Superfortress fly by. Its nose art was unmistakable: The Enola Gay. I saw its bomb bay open. Only two other B-29s were in the air, flying escort. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

The flash seared my skin, igniting my fatigues. The shock wave blasted me skyward. I felt an odd sensation roil through my body as the pain subsided after a few moments of agony. I opened my eyes... and spread my wings.

I drifted down into the Everfree forest. My mind was double-fucked. What the hell just happened? I touched down and started trotting around the forest. Again, no one was in sight. Not even other animals. Somehow, I had become a thestral again.

“Relax, Joe,” a voice sounded in my head. I turned around. Nothing. I looked more skeptically around, but still I saw nothing. I took flight and flew above the forest canopy.

I was headed towards Canterlot, but something was odd. There was a large purple sphere encasing the entire city. It looked like there was a pink cloud of sorts inside the capital. I hovered there, staring at this oddity. Then, several ICBMs rocketed towards the shielded city, blasting harmlessly against the shield.

Next, another volley, but this one of only three missiles. Seeing the lack of contrails, I knew these were MIRVs. But a golden foehammer grasped the warheads, plucking them out of the sky. They were taken down over the Whitetail, to the South. The warheads exploded in a green and unearthly glow. My whole world went white.

With time, my vision came back to me. I tried rubbing the spots out of my eyes... I had hands again. What was going on here? “Take it easy, Joe,” Princess Luna appeared in front of me, stepping out of the white.

“Ma'am, what are you doing here?”

“I keep a watchful eye on everypony's dreams.”

“What was all that back there?”

“I believe the term is 'Nightmare'.”

“That was rather unusual for a nightmare. Normally mine involves either Richard or Mormon. I take it I must be dreaming?”

“That is correct.”

“Can you tell me anything about it? Like what caused it?”

“I'm afraid I can't. Normally it is caused by fears, but those tend to be underlying in most cases. The best advice I can give you is to face your fears.”

“Face my fears? I wouldn't know where to start. I may have the fear of death, but that ain't exactly something one can face.”

“Regardless, something of that dream was from a fear that you harbor. Something that will truly scare you. It may not be apparent, but It should be noted. Could it have been the bayonets? The artillery? Or even that... bomb?”

“No, ma'am. I've dealt with all of those. Bayoneted a Brute... Called in artillery on my own position... Even detonated several nukes myself. But that image towards the end, Canterlot... what was the about?”

“Maybe a concern you have, maybe a fear. Hard to tell.”

“I did make note how indefensible the city is if it should be besieged.”

“That might be it, but I can't say for certain. Your mind is very different from anypony else I've visited.”

“My mind is very different from most Spartans. I guess I'll just ponder over this for the next few days. Maybe something will come up.”

“That sounds like a plan, Joe. And I would recommend you wake up soon. You've almost slept for eight hours.”

Groggily, I regained consciousness and got out of bed. Okay, that was an odd dream, but one glance at my clock confirmed it for me: almost eight hours of sleep. I'd better figure out what it meant, but in all due time. Right now, I had a city to retake.

We were just outside Canterlot's train yard, awaiting the locomotive. The Canterlot One Hundred, the Stalliongrad Survivors, and the Crimson Guard were standing in front of me. The Canterlot One Hundred was equipped with the Steel Ranger Mk IV suits, which were optimized for arctic warfare as per Spectacles specifications. Crimson was given the Mk V prototypes. The Stalliongrad Survivors opted for their green fatigues from the previous battle instead of power armor. The troops looked restless. Time for a speech.

“Men, today we charge headlong into the gates of hell, and not all of you will return. I cannot force you to come with, nor will I hold it against you to stay here. You all have long lives ahead of you, lives that may be stolen by the Zebras occupying Stalliongrad. But, we will restore the homes of a very proud people, now displaced. Future generations will herald those who embark upon this great crusade as champions of justice and paragons of what is right and just in this world. A life is better lived well than lived long.

“To those of you who stay, keep an eye out for Operation: Moscow. This is the name of the game we choose to play. We will fight well, and we will win. This road will be treacherous and unbeaten. The path will be deadly. The blood will be our own.

“Stalliongrad is a very cold city. The rugged winds over its ice have weathered the town and its former residents into hardy individuals with hardier minds. Bottom line is, the enemy have taken our land, and it is our job to take it back. We will be fighting for nothing more than dirt. But it is our dirt, and we will make them pay for every inch they've taken. Everyone who wants to join in on this battle royale of misery and bloodshed, join me atop this train platform and let us journey into the maw of the beast.”

101 troopers clambered onto the platform, not one stayed behind. I spotted Pizza amongst the crowd... I had to tell him something he wasn't going to like. I walked up to him. “Pizza, you can't follow me into this battle. You're still injured. I need you to stay here and help out Spectacles. Get well, then you can fight again.”

“I'm fine, Joe.”

“No, you're not. Remember: I saw your injuries firsthand. Stay put, and I'll be back before you know it.”

“Joe...”

“Pizza, that's an order. I can't have Spartans dying on my watch just because I let walking wounded enter a fight they never should have been in in the first place.”

“Fine, but next time, I will go whether you'd like me to or not.”

“Understood. Now, go get Spectacles, we need him on overwatch more than in the field.”

Pizza ran off, grabbing the ingenious earth pony and taking him back to the HQ. I looked around some more and found Lockheart talking rather sternly to Lyra. After a bit, she looked defeated and wandered off the platform, back to Crimson HQ. I made my towards the Colonel.

“You don't want her coming with?” I asked the Colonel.

“No, she just isn't ready for this kind of fight.”

“Sir, she did handle herself quite well back in Marecago.”

“She has never been in a full assault force before. You've seen what war can do to anypony, would you expect me to throw my daughter into such a fray?”

I sighed, “You're right, but we could still use a medic in the fight.”

“We'll make do without.”

“Plus, Pizza may need to get checked up on while we're away.”

A train horn blew in the distance. All of us chambered around.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“Yes, it is the Flood. I thought I was finished with them back on the Ark. I guessed wrong.”

“Lieutenant, if the Flood found its way to this… ‘Equestria’, you have no excuse for not alerting the Infinity.”

“No, sir, I did have an excuse. A damn good one at that: There was never any means of FTL travel on Equestria. Upon the parasite’s arrival, it was already quarantined to the planet. Plus, I had something it never expected.”

“And what was that Lieutenant? I’m getting tired of you only giving half the story until we ask for the rest.”

“Admiral, what I had with me was magic, and a crate full of nukes. Also, I had friends either dumb or brave enough to follow me.”

“So you failed basic communications protocols, botched a first contact scenario, and used WMDs without proper authorization. This is not looking too good for you, Lieutenant.”

“Excuse me, Admiral?”

“That’s enough for today.”