Author's Notes:

Author notes commencing!

So, Convergence died a horrible death, strangled right as we were getting to the Good Bits. ~Jed

Specifically, it was me. I did it. I killed it because I couldn't stand looking at what it was turning into - a glorified beatdown between AoA and Spectrum as Red tried to nerf everything into the ground.. ~Fluffy

But Y’know what? You guys deserve to see what we had up our sleeves. So these incomplete chapters and segments, with some linking narration text, will be posted to show what could have been for the Convergence Series.

We hope you enjoy what exists of these chapters - Seventeen can be posted alone as much of it exists, however the rest of the series will be posted in bulk in about three chapters of this “bonus” material.

Cheers, all :-)
~Jed

So, remember the time I added the last complete chapter of Light to the older version of the story? This is much the same. I'm still blown away by the positive feedback this story got, update after update, and I have to say: Thank you. While Jed and I had to suffer through Red being a fokkin' kontgesig, you're victims as much as any of us. You had to deal with anywhere from weeks to months of delays, then a period where I frantically worked on chapters of Light so I could get my vision out before Spectrum collapsed. You had to deal with the uncertainty of not knowing what would happen to what should have been a weird, wonderful story with two of the best - well, at this point, one of the best, my feelings towards classic spectrum are well-known by now - stories meeting.

So you deserve more. You deserve to know what we had in the works. You. Deserve. Better.

And that's how you get this. Right here. And now.
~Fluffy

***

“You will give the people of Earth an ideal to strive towards. They will race behind you, they will stumble, they will fall. But in time, they will join you in the sun.”
Jor-El, Man of Steel.

“Ever has it been that the Space Marines are too few to conquer every threat. Yet the truth of our existence and the hope of our intervention steels the hearts of lesser warriors and lends strength to their conviction.”
Chaplain Ortan Cassius, Warhammer 40,000: Catechism of Hate.

***

Council and Elliot meeting

Council Chamber, March 4th, 2030, ‘Avatar’ Earth.

It had taken a day for the Council to manage to find a space for Elliot to come speak with them, a day he had to admit to begrudging them. After all: there was a lot that still needed doing. Assuming they approved his request, he would still need to assemble those forces, picking the best possible units for the mission at hand, and then deploy them to the appropriate locations…

“Brigadier,” the secretary, a dull-looking man in a ratty suit, said, cutting off Elliot’s train of thought. “The Council is prepared to speak with you now.”

Elliot nodded. He liked to think he at least looked more presentable - he'd tidied up his coat as best he could, made sure his shirt was pressed. Hell, he probably looked the least ratty of any soldier in the compound.

Hiroto Sato had neglected to wear a tie, for perhaps the first time in Elliot’s memory. His jacket and trousers were even scruffier than normal. Anderson, meanwhile, had dishevelled stubble. He looked as though he had been through a wringer. Even the normally unflappable Cheerilee, currently taking the place of Prince Blueblood, looked tired out. As Elliot walked in, it seemed the Council were still continuing their previous discussion.

“For the last time,” she said to Anderson, her voice deadly even, “you can’t seriously be working under the assumption that we’ll need that contingency.”

“It’s a contingency,” Anderson retorted. “You don't always need it, you don't have to use it, so long as you have it if you ever do need it!”

“A contingency with unfortunate ramifications,” Sato said quietly. “While I agree we cannot afford to ignore the possibility, as Representative Cheerilee has done -”

“Talking about this is counterproductive!” Cheerilee snapped. “We devote energy to this, that's energy we’re not devoting to the actual fight!”

“You don't get to make unilateral decisions like that, Representative,” Anderson said coldly.

Cheerilee sighed. “I can't believe the Undead went over my head like this…” Her eyes alighted on Elliot. “Oh. Hello, Brigadier.”

“Representative,” Elliot replied neutrally. “Apologies, Councilors, am I interrupting something?”

“Nothing important,” Cheerilee said smoothly. She shared a glance with Anderson and Sato. “We were discussing a… hypothetical, nothing more.”

Anderson scowled. “‘Hypothetical’, right.”

“What can we do for you, Brigadier?” Sato asked, folding his arms. The man’s tone was surprisingly impatient, and Elliot paused for a moment.

“Did you get the latest report from Operative Heartstrings?” he asked. “About -”

“About the storm-front approaching Boston on the other Earth that you and their Cheerilee both suspect to be hiding an assault force?” Cheerilee cut in. “Yes, we did, but we’ve not had enough time to discuss it in depth - we've had several issues of our own to contend with.”

Elliot frowned. “Solaminan activity?”

“Unconfirmed,” Anderson said tiredly. “We've got that covered, though - tapped a unit to go in after Red Squadron reckons the area.”

“I see,” Elliot said slowly. “Well, then -”

“Why do they need more troops?” Anderson asked bluntly, forestalling any words from the Brigadier.

Elliot blinked at the question. “Excuse me, sir?”

“You heard me, Brigadier,” Anderson said sternly. “These people have more troops, more resources, more weapons and more defences than us. I've looked over their stats, and apart from being wildly inconsistent at times it seems they're in remarkably good shape given their situation. At this point, we've already sent more people than I’m willing to risk to that world. Now you're asking for more?”

Elliot frowned, shifting his stance slightly. “Sir, with all due respect. They might be in possession of more troops than us, but against the enemy that they're about to be attacked by -”

“We aren't exactly in clear waters over here, Brigadier,” Anderson countered. “That unconfirmed Solaminan activity might, in itself, be a prelude to something new from her on the horizon. I want us to be prepared for that.”

“I understand that, sir,” Elliot said quietly. “I hope you understand that we need these people - now that we’ve entered into a state of war with their enemy -”

“I'm aware of the tactical ramifications, Brigadier,” Anderson snapped. “I'm also aware of our own tactical situation - which you might not be, having been on another world, enjoying their upholstery.”

Elliot stiffened. “Sir, these people are signatories of the Exodus Convention.”

“Sure they are,” Anderson said. “And we’ll help them. But nowhere in the Exodus Convention does it say that we have to send help to a numerically and technologically superior ally at the expense of our own defences.”

Elliot sighed. “I understand your position, sir, but with respect, there is a certain…” He paused, considering his words. “There is a certain moral obligation to consider.”

“A moral obligation,” Anderson repeated.

“We promised to help them, sir,” Elliot said quietly. “We made them a promise, that we would stand with them when they needed us, and right now, I am convinced that they need us.”

“Are you?” Anderson asked, sounding unconvinced.

“If for no other reason than the morale boost that being visibly not alone in this fight would give them, sir,” Elliot replied with a nod.

Anderson rubbed his eyes with his hand, looking almost exasperated. “And you think this… this moral duty, as you describe it, should supersede our tactical position?”

“With respect, sir,” Elliot said smoothly, “the BDF was founded on a promise of honouring morals over tactical positions.”

Anderson moved his hand and gave Elliot a flat look.

“The Exodus Convention is a promise to never do undue damage to Equestrian, because our allies and friends are fighting to reclaim their home, not burn it,” Elliot said with a small smile. “Tactically, it puts us at a disadvantage. We could have unleashed biological weapons, chemical attacks, ordered real terror tactics. We could have made the people of Solamina’s Empire live in as much fear as we do. But we didn't - we took a moral stand. We made a promise.”

***

Errant Flight and Elliot talk - Council takes recess.

***

Cheerilee speaking with Marcus (briefly) via vidcom. Basic gist - Downtime’s forces not ready yet.

Cheerilee’s Office, New York, November 25th, 2030, ‘Spectrum’ Earth.

Cheerilee sighed. The video monitor in her office displayed nothing but static, despite the best assurances Doctor Whooves could give her. She ended the call and tried dialling again.

A moment passed, and then - finally - Marcus Renee’s face popped into existence on the monitor.

the basic gist of this scene was this: Cheerilee warns that attack might be closer than everyone thinks. Marcus is worried - stuff is progressing on schedule, so nobody’s really ready yet, but he’ll get as many people as he can together.

***

Council and Elliot meeting, part Deux

In this scene, the Council would have agreed to send troops, albeit reluctantly

***

Beginning of the final battle - Celestia gives the order to GO.

Queen Celestia orders her attack to commence, after which we get the following scene

***

Boston. PHL Checkpoint Alpha. ‘Spectrum’ Earth.

“What’s the sitrep?!” Lieutenant Kellman called as he jogged towards the defensive position, where a mare was checking her readouts with confusion evident on her face.

“I haven’t got a fucking clue what I’m seeing,” Silent Step replied, eyes wide. “Couldn’t be what it looks like…”

“Well what does it fucking look like?!” Kellman yelled.

The sound of heavy clumping footfalls near them made Kellman turn, and he found himself face to face with an Iron Clad in Paladin II armour - the number 001 made it clear that this was Eric. While the Knight of Albion had no formal rank - or at least, no formal rank that Kellman had ever been told - the way the BDF contingent seemed to treat him implied a high position.

“What is the situation?” he asked calmly, his voice tinged by the effect of the helmet.

“The situation is that there’s some sort of massive thaumic event occurring,” Silent Step said with a frown. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this, not even when the fucking Queen bitch was here…”

“Thaumic?” Eric asked, even as the Lieutenant’s face paled.

“This could be it,” Kellman said, his shoulders slumping. “God dammit, this could really be it. The attack.”

“Your Tyrant?” Eric asked, his tone impassive.

“Yes!” Kellman snapped. “Christ, you could sound like you give a shit!”

“Oh, I do,” Eric said. He tapped his helmet. “Iron One to all units. We are on. Report back immediately.”

A host of radio calls began coming in, and Eric began walking away from Kellman and Step.

“Where the hell are you going?!” the Lieutenant yelled.

“With respect, Lieutenant Kellman,” Eric replied quietly, “I am going to go into battle. It would be best for you not to hinder me.”

***

quick scene - Bowman interrupts the Council meeting - Boston is under attack!

***

Checkpoint Delta, Boston, ‘Spectrum’ Earth.
Sam Lake was busy checking his rifle, feeling slightly absurd for the stripes on his arm. He didn’t like being a Sergeant - that was Dave’s job, that was Dave’s place in their team. He didn’t have the right to it.
But Dave’s gone, he thought to himself, halfway between harshness and misery. There’s only me – and that… that thing that took his place.
He didn’t have a choice but to keep going on, despite the pain of his loss. It was what his friend would have wanted - and as he knew from the other David Elliot, it was what his friend would have done, however hard it was, however much it hurt.
Checkpoint Delta, despite being one of the more important positions in Boston, was only lightly manned by Sam, Steady Hoof and Errant Flight. With Elise dead, David gone and John off doing whatever with that pony version of himself from the other world, Sam had been left with a truncated squad and no way to requisition replacement troops in the current crisis. There wasn’t even another squad assigned to the Checkpoint at this moment in time – a second squad was normally supposed to be there to assist, but they’d gone off-shift about half an hour ago and the replacements hadn’t arrived yet. True Grit had gone to see where they’d gotten to. Hopefully, he’d be back soon. Sam was starting to miss having the reliable Unicorn around.

He heard the sound of galloping hooves and frowned, looking up. To his surprise,True Grit was there, jogging over to him. He looked almost out of breath, and Sam couldn’t help but feel a sudden chill go down his spine – True Grit never hurried, not unless he really had to.
Which meant…
“What is it?” he asked, as Grit took a breath. “Jesus, where did you run from?”
“All the way from Checkpoint Sigma,” Grit replied, catching his breath. “Is your fucking radio out or something?”
Sam frowned. “No – couldn’t you get through?”
“Must be interference,” True Grit said, shaking his head. “We just got a comm from HQ – massive thaumic signature, bigger than anything we’ve ever seen.”
Sam could feel the blood draining from his face. “Oh, you have got to be shitting me. Now? But they’re -”
“Early, yeah, I know!” Grit snapped. “Look, we don’t have time to argue, we need to get the checkpoint set up, pronto!”
“Where’s the other squad?” Sam asked, frowning.
Grit looked frustrated. “We aren’t getting another squad! They can’t spare anyone!”
“They can’t seriously expect us to hold without a second squad! There’s only four of us!” Sam swore. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!”
“Well, that’s what I said!” True Grit replied, sounding even more irritated than Sam did. “All they said was that Lieutenant Winston’s team had been reassigned to liaison duty and they hadn’t gotten the replacement team picked out yet!”
“Shit,” Sam swore. “Right, then I guess we’re on our own. Oi! Errant!”
Errant Flight, who had been loitering on a nearby roof, immediately flew down. “Sup, Sam?”
“We’re on!” Sam told him, frowning. Errant’s cocky grin disappeared, replaced by a look of absolute seriousness.
“Right,” he said. “Whaddya want me to do?”
“Start patrolling,” Sam ordered. “We need to be ready when that force gets inbound.”
“Gotcha,” Errant said. He paused. “We do this one for Dave.”
“For Dave,” Sam agreed. As Errant took off and headed for the sky, Sam silently made a promise.
Today’s for you, mate, he thought. Every single one of those bastards I kill, I’m killing for you. You’re getting vengeance double-time.
***

Checkpoint Foxtrot

“Did you hear that?” Gregson said, looking to Hart with wide eyes. “Eric said we’re on!”

“What does that mean?” Hart asked.

“It means,” Idle said, growling as he grabbed his helmet, “that this world’s Tyrant just made her move. Get your damn helmets on. GG3 will have to be deployed ASAP.”

He stood up and walked over to the three girls. Sonata looked up first, then Aria and Adagio.

“It’s time, isn’t it?” the leader of the GG3 asked quietly, sounding entirely unhappy with the situation.

“Yup,” Idle said without preamble. “Come on ladies, get yourselves ready. We’ve got some fighting to do.”

Adagio sighed. “Right. Great.”

“Or I could just shoot you now,” Idle added with a smirk.

“We’re going, we’re going,” Adagio grumbled. “No need to get threatening.”

“Threatening?” Idle asked, the man’s smile turning almost unpleasant. “You’ve not seen me ‘threatening’ yet, love. Pray you don’t ever have to.”

***

The first sign that something was wrong was the premature darkening of the sky, the slow rumbling and thundering as something tore its way through reality.

And then the portals opened - larger ones spewing airships full of potion bombs, smaller ones on the ground vomiting forth hordes of Newfoals, laughing and grinning as they charged into battle.

The battle of Boston had finally resumed.

***

Commentary: This entire chapter was going to be a big, fun buildup right before the (absolutely massive!) battle of Boston began! Note, however, that we don’t use the term “final” battle. I wonder why…