General of Morale - Michael ‘Ironsides’ Douglas’ Office
1000 hours - two days later

Standing in the room I feel the slight tingle of uncertainty. My position has often been called an unnecessary throwback. Of course, I often shake it off. Most of the others don’t seem to remember what it’s like in the field. They’ve forgotten the fear, the panic, the relentless nightmares, and they’ve forgotten how something as simple as playing a game of catch can drive that away.

I know why they think my office isn’t needed. The work my people do isn’t directly seen. Oh, when someone goes looking through the numbers they’ll realize that the soldiers with the ability to have an escape do better, don’t have as many suicides, and tend to be far more efficient.

That’s the problem though. It’s only when someone goes digging. I don’t like setting something up as a publicity stunt. It demeans everything that my office works for, but I do realize that I need the publicity to keep the sharks away. So, naturally, when the mention of a competition began to circulate I did everything I could to ensure that it crossed my office. And now I’ve got to set this up.

Usually, a massive set of games ensured to test the abilities and skills of the soldiers that are going to participate in it. The first thought that crossed my mind was an old-fashioned War Game, and to be honest it still has remained.

Although I believe that capture the flag might be the way to go. A message just came through the pipe, we have to move up our timetable and get troops to the front but the number of surviving veterans and squad leaders is low. With three-fourths of COG fleet 21 dead, and the war on the front getting worse it won't be long until they are sent back out.

UEC space
Life commander Rarity Belle
UEC research station

Such fascinating designs, so innovative. The fact that the humans were able to make such war machines without magic is disgustingly impressive. But never in my three human centuries of life have I seen a machine that can’t be improved upon and surpassed by magic.

While these blueprints might not me for the NAC’s battle machines. They are from what the captured humans call a Siafu mech. I have read reports of these Siafu on the frontlines and they are devastating.

Reports from the front portray the African mechs using their wrist-mounted pincers cut or let open the hulls of armored vehicles. And while not being as mighty as the NAC's ATLAS mechs the Siafu is still able to hold its own against lesser dragons.

“What else do you have to say, darling?” I ask the chained prisoner a captive UAF soldier.

“No, don't tell her shit!” the second prisoner one of the NAC’s mechs pilots screams.

“fuck jou unicorn teef.”

“BE SILENT! I did not ask you anything, Floor.” I say quickly pressing the stud on my wrist. The bound NAC soldier arcs her back and screams as she is electrocuted.

“Rarity I don't think that was necessary.” the visiting Fluttershy comments. Before walking up to the trooper and seeing is she is alive.

A sigh escaped my lips as I watched one of my oldest friends. She’s been like this for as long as I can remember, and there has been more than once that her loyalty has been called into question because she tends to be so empathic toward those beings we are actively attempting to better by bringing them under our rule. She is young so her naivety is excusable.

A faint raspy cough escaped my lips, but I did my best to muffle it with my hands. The horn heads don’t have a fucking clue about my escape. Most of them believed that I was dead, another test subject, sent to be processed, and instead, I found a nice way of escaping through the incinerator tunnels. I stretch and feel my back crack and groan. The slow realization that maybe it wasn’t my acting ability, but instead how sick I really am that lead them to believe that I was dead.

Stumbling forward I fall to my knees as the sound of voices meets my ears. As quietly as I can, I press myself up against a series of stalagmites as the beam of a flashlight washes over the area that I had just vacated.

“Must have been bats.” a mare's voice says from the direction of the beam of light. Before the sound of boiling water echoes throughout the cavern.

“Whatever. This one’s coming out, check her.” a different voice says. This voice isn't as unnaturally smooth as an equestrian's, instead possessing a very peculiar form of speech impediment. A gryphon I think.

Taking my chance I grasp the lip of the ridge and ever so slowly pull myself up and stifle a grasp. There was something that I had never thought possible. Emerging from a pool of oily water was the floating form of a pony.

Her fur was pink a horn was joined by a pair of wings on her back. Pony is supposed to be dead, I know I kicked the bitch into space my self, but here she was.

The pony who had spoken before and the gryphon moved forward. Waiting through the liquid carrying strange alien equipment and ran them over the floating alicorn.

“This one's a bad grow, her spine didn't grow correctly. Recycle her.” The mare says before the gryphon shoves the now staring princess into a kind of pod.

Once the alicorn is inside of the pod the mare presses something on a side panel. The disgusting sound like a wet wood chipper fills the cavern and soon the pod opens again.

‘Jesus’

A soup of blood and other detritus is dumped back into the pool as the two walk back to the shore. The two of them then begin to set up some more strange equipment.

Throughout the entire process, I hold my position not daring to move and risk being spotted. What is going on here? What is this pool? Is this how the UEC replenished their numbers?

If what the reports had said were true, then it would make sense. It is reported that most of the races from the UEC homeworld have long lifespans. Instead of being measured in decades like most humans.

The lifespans of the UEC’s citizens were measured in centuries. But to them, the time was measured differently. Thus the UEC is an old civilization but to them they are young. In their minds, they had spent decades exploring space. It would only make sense that over the centuries their flaunted ideas of friendship and unity would warp and shift into subjugation and slavery. It also didn't help that they initially left their planet to hunt down the changelings.

With a lifespan like that it made some kind of sense that a sense of superiority would set in. Eventually, they would need a way to replenish their troops, and with a lifespan like that, it wouldn't be efficient to do it the same way us humans do.

My thoughts are cut off by the sound of gurgling water and leaning back over the edge. The princess emerges from the liquid and like before the two said back in and check her over.

“She’s good get her out we have other ponies in the queue. Prep the pool.”

“How long has it been?” She pink princess asked groggily. Trying to stand and failing miserably.

“Almost two years Princess Cadence.”

“...Two years…”

“Alright come on let's warm up the pool and get it ready for the next one in the queue.”

“Got it.”