Ripsaw 1 had carved a furrow in the marble with its nose and cut up the floor tiles with the rotors, throwing up a cloud of dust that obscured everything.

The aircraft was leaning against the raised platform at the front of the wedding chamber. Flames spread from its leaking fuel containers. Some of its rockets had cooked off, knocked down several pillars, and blasted a few holes in the structure. Rubble had dropped in, and the roof was partially collapsed.

It was virtually impossible to see more than a few meters in front of one’s eyes, and the entire room had devolved into a massive brawl.

Changeling soldiers who were mixed in with the wedding guests fought hand-to-hand with royal guards or groups of civilians.

A group of marines tried to wade into the fray, but were flanked when even more enemy contacts dropped on them from the ceiling. The brawl ballooned outward in size, bayonets clashed with vicious teeth and fangs.

The cloud of dust and the fires made it impossible to tell which way to go, and difficult to tell friend from foe.

Rainbow Dash was tackled from behind by one of the bugs. Melissa shot it, and pulled her friend up.

Andrew ran over, taking wild shots at anything in the dust that looked remotely hostile, “We need to find the rest of the gang!”

Rainbow picked up a discarded carbine, “I think they’re still near the whirlybird!”

They made their way around the edge of the room, taking advantage of the rubble and lack of visibility.

Right as the helicopter had crashed, Chrysalis took advantage of the distraction to quickly disable Celestia with a pulsed energy projectile.

Luna took flight, climbing up and over the riot to land in front of the alien officer. Cadence followed her, and both charged energy shields in anticipation of another attack.

Chrysalis peered at them, then gestured to her soldiers, “those shields don't stop light. Let's test their limitations shall we?”

Two Changelings fired their stun devices at the monarchs. The shields did not stop the blasts of plasma, they may have even amplified them.

Cadence went down without a sound, but Luna’s energy field collapsed, leaving her shaky on her hooves.

She tried to charge her horn again, but it sputtered and flickered hopelessly. The queen of the night roared with rage, and tried to rush Chrysalis only to be hit with two more stun blasts.

She collapsed at Chrysalis' feet, still feebly trying to reach her.

“Grab all three,” Chrysalis ordered, “and take them to the throne room!”

After that, despite Twilight’s best efforts, the monarchs and insane military commander had completely vanished.

Across the room, Applejack bucked the jammed canopy of the crashed SuperCobra. The fiberglass gave way, and she turned around to pull out one of the pilots.

“Keating…” the man moaned, coughing and pointing at his co-pilot.

Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy appeared beside Applejack, reaching in for the unconscious co-pilot.

Rarity came over to help. She charged up her horn and leveraged an opening in the canopy..

“That fuel could explode at any second!” Applejack cried, using her teeth to pull the first pilot away, “Move it!”

“Won’t be but a minute, darling…” Rarity said distractedly, concentrating on keeping the opening from collapsing in on the co-pilot.

“Fer cryin’ out loud, what do humans eat?” Pinkie Pie demanded, nearly pulling the wounded man’s arm out of his socket.

“Pinkie, be careful…” Fluttershy said, “he’s already hurt!”

Just as they managed to pull him out, a Changeling dropped down on the canopy.

All three mares cried out and stumbled backwards. The conscious pilot pulled out his Colt sidearm, only for it to make a clack sound.

Applejack picked up a guard’s revolver and shot the Changeling square between the mandibles.

“C’mon, let’s get them out of here!” she cried, lifting the first pilot onto her back.

They met Rainbow, Andrew and Melissa halfway across the room, and somehow managed to make it all the way back to the double doors. Most of the squad had already retreated through, along with a large number of civilians and royal guards. The remainder were just barely avoiding being overrun, taking cover by the door.

“We’ve gotten as many out as we could,” Ceres told Melissa, “Waiting for Sergeant Vaughn! He’s still rounding people up!”

Two more marines emerged from the dust as if to punctuate his statement.

Twilight was nearby with the rest of the Mane Six, as well as Andrew, “Everyone’s accounted--wait a minute. Where’s Spike?”

The others glanced around, “I thought I saw-- didn’t he…? -- I lost him in the confusion--”

Twilight became alarmed, “Spike!”

Still in the ceremonial hall, Spike was doing his best to avoid getting killed. Right as the shooting started, he’d done what he’d known to be right; direct every one of the guests to a way out, be it the door, a secret entrance, or the holes in the wall.

Now he couldn’t get out himself.

Was the door over there, or behind him? Wait, no, that was a window. He couldn’t even see the helicopter.

Something told him to hit the ground, barely steering clear of something flying over his head. A burst of machine gun fire rang out, and he hugged the ground, protecting his head.

He tried to rise, but his legs wouldn’t respond. He was frozen. Everything was so loud, so big and dangerous and terrifying…

Where should he go? What was he supposed to do?

Everywhere he looked there was nothing but dust, flashes of gunfire, humans, ponies, and Changelings shouting and running. He saw horrid sights that he would question for the rest of his life whether or not they were real, so strange and alien they were.

A shadow fell over him. A Changeling soldier.

It grinned it's horrible alien grin, and raised its rifle.

Spike inhaled, trying to build up some flame to try and defend himself, but nothing came. His chest was tight and constricted, there was so much dust…

A burst of gunfire sounded out, and the Changeling flew backward, screeching.

“Ulp!” Spike gasped. Somepony had scooped him up, tucked him under their arm facing backwards, and began running for the door.

Spike tried to struggle, tried to insist he could run himself, but all that came out of his mouth was a mound of dust and a few sparks.

“C’mon, quit moving, kid!” his savior shouted over the din, “I gotcha!”

Spike couldn’t get a good look at his savior, facing behind as he was, but caught sight of a tail. A dragon tail!

A dragon tail around a human uniform. And no wings.

The dragon fired a pistol back at the Changelings, still running at full speed.

They reached the massive doors, but did not slow down. The dragon soldier sprinted around a corner, passing a pair of human soldiers who fired at unseen targets back around the bend.
They fell back through the castle in neat order. Soldiers suppressed the pursuing foe while their fellows moved back.

Once they had run a certain distance, the retreating soldiers falling back stopped and took up suppression while the first group started moving back.
A human soldier running along as part of this movement caught up with the dragon soldier, and glanced at Spike, “Sergeant, what the hell are you carrying?!”

“Shut up and keep moving!”

Down a spiral staircase they ran, into some sort of storeroom. Almost two dozen people were in the chamber, a mix of Alliance soldiers, Equestrian military, and random civilians.

A loud boom resounded from up above, and the room shook.

Three humans rushed down the stairs, one of whom was Melissa.

“I think we lost them, but we’re gonna need to move soon, Vaughn,” she said to the dragon soldier, “If we--”

She leaned to one side, “Spike? Sergeant, put him down!”

The dragon sergeant looked at his cargo, as if noticing him for the first time, “Huh? Oh! Sorry about that!”

He immediately set Spike down. Spike rapidly stepped away, brushing himself off, “Thanks for the save...uh…” he looked up at the pair. The dragon sergeant was surprisingly short, almost shorter than Melissa.

The sergeant nodded at him, a small smile on his face, “Just doing my job, kid. You alright?”

Spike coughed, spewing more dust out, but tried to retain his dignity, “Uh...yeah! I’m fine! Totally! How...how are you?”

Melissa crouched to Spike’s level, “Hey, Spike, you seen Twilight anywhere?”

“Spike?” a voice called out from the crowd.

Twilight pushed her way through the throng, followed by Andrew, Fluttershy, and Applejack. Twilight dove upon Spike with a tight embrace, “There you are! Oh thank Celestia you’re alright!”

He hugged her back, “Twilight!”

“He was getting some people out of that hall,” Sergeant Vaughn explained, “I grabbed him before a Changeling did.”

Twilight’s eyes widened, “He did? Really! Good thinking, Spike, I’m proud.”

He smiled a little, “Aw, it was nothing…”

Corporal Ceres trotted up, “We lost Franklin and Demeter. I don’t know if they’re dead or the bugs got them.”

Vaughn scowled, “I saw Demeter get clipped in the wing. I’m guessing he’s captured.”

“I lost track of Franklin in the dust,” the radio operator spoke up, “Didn’t even see him go down.”

Ceres grimaced, then asked, “What’s the game plan? We’ve gotta get back topside!”

“There’s some tunnels that lead to street level,” Melissa said, “we should be able to get out through there and link up with the rest of the platoon.”

“How many more guys do you have?” Andrew asked.

“An infantry company. They’ve got reinforcements on the way, and air support, and we’ve got the help of the Household Division.” Twilight released Spike and stood up straight as she spoke.

“Where’s the rest of the group?” Melissa asked Applejack, “Did we lose anyone?”

Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie emerged from the crowd.

“The nerve, to attack a wedding!” Rarity was grumbling, “After all the hard work we put into it!”

“Nopony even had time to try all my baking…” Pinkie Pie whined.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get some payback,” Rainbow Dash said, hovering a meter off the ground and shoving a new cartridge into her carbine, “Right everypony?”

Twilight looked around, “We lost Celestia, Luna, and Cadence...we need to find the Elements of Harmony.”

Vaughn nodded, “I agree, I don’t know if our forces will be enough. We need all the help we can get. Right now though, we need to get back topside and back in the fight.”

Melissa nodded, “Right. We’ll get the guards to escort the civilians to a route out of the city, while the rest of us head toward the CP.”

“What about the wounded?” Ceres asked, “We’ve got one wounded rotorhead, one shaken up, and then there's a bunch of minor injuries in the civilians. I don’t know if we should move any of them.”

The squad’s corpsmen, an african-american Petty Officer 1st class, stepped over, “That your medical opinion, Corporal? Sergeant Vaughn, Sergeant Foster, I’ve stabilized Keating, and he’s awake. Captain Pelayo’s shaken up and can barely stand, but other than that he’s fine. We can send them with the civilians. I treated the rest as best I can, not too many serious injuries. They’re good to go.”

He tried not to notice the ponies staring at him.

Vaughn nodded, “Thanks, Santiago. Foster?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Twilight crouched down near Spike, “Spike, the girls and I are going to go with the marines, but I need you to go with the wounded.”

Spike was distressed, “But--”

“Spike, I need you to do this! You know the underground better than they do. You remember all the times we explored down here?”

He reluctantly nodded, and gave a little salute, “I’ll get them out. Stay safe, Twilight. There’s a lot of big humans around, and I can’t lose you.”

While the civilians got to safety, Melissa looked over the other members of the Mane Six. Rainbow Dash and Applejack held weapons recovered from the hall, Pinkie had her party cannon, and Rarity was busy trying to stow what was left of the dresses she’d designed for everyone in a chest to protect them until later.

Melissa walked over, “Rarity, how are you with firearms?”

Rarity looked up at her, “Oh, I’m afraid that’s one of my failings, darling. I possess many skills, but I am unqualified in firearms...Wait a moment, why haven’t you asked anyone else?”

“Because I don’t ask questions when it comes to Pinkie Pie, I think Dash, AJ, and Fluttershy’s answer would be obvious, and Twilight has magic.”

Melissa rubbed her face, “So...there’s gonna be a lot of bullets flying around, and--”

Rarity waved dismissively, “Oh, don’t worry about me, dear. I’ve been through my share of scrapes, and…”

Her smile twitched, “I do believe I need to...explain to the Changelings exactly how hard I worked on this. Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

Melissa was about to argue, but something in her friend’s eyes made her back away slowly.

“Okay then…Andrew? You want a carbine, or you gonna stick with the Old Slabsides?”

It took a moment for him to realize she was talking about the Colt .45 he held, “I-- no, if those are my options, I'll stick with the pistol. It’s the only thing right for my size. How come I don't get a machine gun?”

“Because you call an assault rifle that.”

They directed the guards and civilians through the right escape tunnel, while the rest of the group prepared to go out another.

The Mane Six inspected the fourteen marines around them, wearing odd clothing, carrying unfamiliar weapons, and entirely unfamiliar individuals.

Several races working together with none of the characteristics of their normal culture.

The dragon sergeant walked over to the hippogriff radio operator. Calmly, without a barking order or a threat, just a request, he asked for the handpiece. Obediently she pulled the component off and passed it to him.

A meek hippogriff? Well, none of the ponies had met a hippogriff, and the stereotypes were nothing to go on, but it was still a shock.

The griffin corporal spoke with the other humans in similar manners and accent. There was no sign of the usual greed, or rudeness. Well, not griffin rudeness at least. He behaved as the other soldiers did, partaking in friendly teasing and vulgar humor.

None of the creatures here were like anyone they’d met before. They acted like humans.

Applejack took Twilight aside, “Twi’, where have y’all been? Are you alright? Did they do anything to you? What is going on? Who are these humans?”

“What? No! Of course not! The Terran Alliance are a bunch of human nations with a bunch of other species all together who’ve been hiding in the Western Sea. They saved our lives! Melissa and I were dropped into the middle of the ocean, the Terran Alliance submarines rescued us, we asked for their help, and they gave all they could!”

“Why are you wearing that uniform?” Rarity asked.

“Is this really the time to care about that?”

“This Terran Alliance,” Applejack said slowly, “Can we trust them to help us? Are you sure they’re sending help?”

The room rocked again.

“Does that answer your question? I would hardly think they’d send 300 of their soldiers to their deaths!”

Applejack shrugged, “You have a point. Who else would help us anyway?”

“Hooray!” Pinkie cried, “New really weird friends!”

With that, the unit went down the tunnel in the storeroom. It would allow them access to the underground tunnels and sewers under the city.

“God, I hate sewer levels…” Andrew muttered, taking a deep breath before following the rest of the group.
XXXXX
The battle on the surface was not going well. As predicted, sector 1 around Canterlot Castle fell immediately after the shield collapsed.

Out of the west had come four Changeling helicopter gunships the troops would nickname vultures. Ripsaw 1, along with several Sea Knight helicopters and two Skyraiders were knocked down immediately. The Vultures were armed with weapons generations ahead of what the marines had, and incredible speed. They looked like a cross between a Eurocopter Tiger and an RAH-66 Comanche, powerful helicopters with stealth technology, high agility, and advanced sensors and weapons. A challenging opponent to say the least, even for a helicopter from the 2010s.

And a massive threat for aircraft designs fifty years older.

Quickly following the four vultures out of the west came a pair of massive transports, shaped like Thunderbird 2(deemed “cockroaches”). They landed in wide fields near the castle, and the northwestern edge of the residential area. The one in the residential area dumped three massive tanks that looked vaguely like smaller versions of the Maus tank. Smooth, massive bricks with turrets mounted on the back of the body. They were like giant sneakers.

Eight Armored Personnel Carriers(APCs) were dumped out from the other transport near the castle, along with dozens of Changeling soldiers. The APCs were built much like the human AAVs, with turrets armed with heavy weapons, and equipped with six wheels instead of tracks. Any remaining Equestrian soldiers in the area of the castle or the upper class sector were quickly overwhelmed.

Four aircraft, large flying saucer-types with a bulbous underside(nicknamed junebugs), settled down next to their bigger counterparts and emptied out even more soldiers.

The cockroaches took off once again to gather more reinforcements, generating a constant stream of soldiers and equipment.

The vultures, along with a number of junebugs, tore over the city, dropping laser-guided munitions into pony strong points, barracks, and supply depots. Two pony gun batteries were annihilated, lines of communication were cut, and casualties were sustained.

While trying to cross the bridge between Canterlot Castle and the residential sector, an APC was destroyed when the bridge exploded underneath it. It slowed down the other vehicles, forcing them to take an alternate route, but it was not the delay the defenders had hoped. Destruction of bridges worked better when the enemy infantry doesn’t have wings.

The Changeling troops advanced swiftly into the city, their tanks moving straight in while half the APCs took the right flank around the cliff edge of the city.

Stinger surface-to-air missiles arced skyward, succeeding in destroying one junebug, and damaging another, along with a vulture.

Artillery barrages made the enemy pause, as did house-to-house fighting. The marines and ponies engaged, then detached and fell back as planned.

The Changelings advanced slowly and cautiously, unsure of enemy numbers.

Attempting to use the airship landing fields as a landing zone failed as the Marines had planned. Stingers and a LAV Air Defense(LAV-AD) vehicle were there to keep the enemy back. Artillery blocked the roads that led straight from the castle to the airfield, and harassed them every step of the way. They’d have to go in the hard way.

Through every millimeter of space the defenders would make them fight for.

The bridges connecting the western part of Canterlot to the rest of the city were blasted, and surprise attacks with anti-tank weapons and IEDs made it difficult for the Changelings to send in their heavy tank support.

The Changelings knew how tough urban combat was, however. They’d expected this. This was why they sent in a certain type of specialized tank specifically designed for urban combat. They hadn't performed well on the advance to the airfield, but pure cities were their element.

XXXXX

First squad emerged from the underground into a deserted section of the city. They could hear the artillery booming, and ducked when an aircraft tore overhead.
“Anyone see insignia?” someone asked.

There was a fireball in the direction the plane had gone.

“Doesn’t matter now.”

The marines continued moving in the direction of where the CP was supposed to be, staying to either side of the tight street.

“Does anypony feel that?” Applejack suddenly asked.

“Feel what?” Rainbow whispered back, scanning the rooftops for targets.

Fluttershy, firmly rooted to the ground unlike the blue pegasus, started trembling, “I feel it…”

“Feel what…?” Andrew asked.

Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.

The other marines halted one by one.

“What is that?” Andrew demanded.

“How the hell should I know?” Melissa hissed.

She crawled forward to the next intersection. A private was sitting on the corner, using a mirror to peer around it.
“Enemy walker!” he said, “Some kind of big bug mech!”

Melissa peered around herself. She chuckled a little when she saw it...then froze.

“Sweet Mother Teresa on the hood of a Mercedes Benz...Retreat!” Melissa screamed in a most undignified manner, pulling the private up and shoving him back the way they had come.

With a dramatic roar, and an agility that should have been impossible for a vehicle of that size, the massive Changeling battle mech rolled on wheels mounted to its six legs. It rolled onto the street with the speed of a car, sideways like a crab.
The thing was the size of a van, with six legs attached around a central thorax-like area, with a pair of arms on the front that had three clamping fingers each. Between the arms, beneath a twitching sensor node, was a large cannon. It looked like a giant ant, only mechanical, jet black, and armed with machine guns in the center of the fingers.
The arms raised, and with a mechanical whine, the machine guns mounted to them opened up on the retreating squad.

The Marines scattered like cockroaches, diving into doorways or behind blocks of rubble. One man was cut down before he could reach safety and fell without a sound.

Melissa ducked into a doorway, followed by Andrew and Fluttershy.

Melissa patted down her vest, and found her phone, using it as a mirror to see around the corner.

To Andrew’s mild shock and horror, she began giggling.

“What is it now?” he moaned, clutching his pistol tighter.

“It’s a Tachikoma! Those cute little tanks from Ghost in the Shell! Well, it’s missing the big fat pod on the back, and it’s shaped more like an ant, but--”

A rocket shrieked past, exploding down the street.

“Not so cute now! Why does everything we run into remind you of something else?”

“Because that’s my thing, and how I keep calm while people are dying around me! At least now we know how to disable it!”

Fluttershy was on the ground with her head covered. She glanced up, “How does knowing what it resembles help us--”

“It’s an ultra-efficient design! Most realistic sci-fi could have real world applications, remember the Starfuries?”

She shouted to the others, “Target its feet! It’s got wheels for feet! Feet, and its forehead! There’s a camera there!”
Melissa hoped her intelligence was spot-on. Unlike in the anime, the Tachikoma didn’t have convenient blue and white coloration to separate out vital areas. It was painted black. And this was reality, not an anime, obviously. There could be all sorts of differences. It was designed to be manned by a Changeling, not a human.

She shook her head, Now’s not the time. It looked right. She had to trust herself.

Leaning out of cover, switching Orcrist to single shot, Melissa aimed right for what she believed to be the camera, or sensor node.

As the marines unloaded around him, Andrew stayed in cover, unable to get out and shoot.

He saw Corporal Ceres stand up out of cover, tossing a pin away from a grenade. The marine placed one of his hind legs on the rubble serving as his cover, and leaned back to throw it.

A burst tore through one of his back legs. Ceres screamed and collapsed backwards, his pineapple grenade still clutched tightly in his hand.
Fluttershy popped her head up, and despite the danger, immediately tried to get up and help, only for suppressive fire to send her right back into cover.

Andrew watched Ceres try to get up, only for his leg to give out, his screams unable to be heard over the sound of battle. The grenade’s spoon was still held in place, but it was only the soldier’s weakening grip keeping it there.

Before he knew what he was doing, Andrew was out of the doorway, diving across the gap between him and the pile of rubble.
He went prone, crawling forward, ducking to avoid falling debris.

The griffin spotted him, and tried to pass the grenade over.

It slipped from his hand, the spoon falling out as the pineapple rolled towards the archeologist.

Andrew snatched up the device. Aiming in the general direction of thumping feet, he hurled it and flattened himself as best he could against the ground.

His fillings shook with the force of the blast.

“Doesn’t anyone have an M72?!” Vaughn roared, ducking behind a low rock wall.

“Jefferson had one, Sergeant!” the radio operator beside him shouted, and pointed at the prone man in the middle of the street.

“Where’s Ramirez? We had four of the things!”

“Here, sir!” a man rushed over, low under the wall.

“Get to work, Private!”

“Yeah, yeah…” He unlimbered a long olive-drab tube from his bag, and put his M16 on the ground.

Ramirez readied the M72 Light Anti-tank Weapon(LAW), flipping out the sight and putting his hand near the trigger.

He stuck his head up, putting the crosshairs onto one of the legs of the black tanks.

“See you in--”

An explosion sounded out close by, jostling Ramirez as he clamped down on the firing button.

The rocket lit off and shot down the street.

Just barely passing the Tachikoma’s left legs.

“Oh shit…” Ramirez whispered.

“Oh, fuck!” Vaughn shouted.

“Oh nuts.” The radio operator said.

The main cannon of the Tachikoma aimed in their direction, its arms tilting.

“Hit the deck!”

The rest of the squad opened fire, the last man with an M72 stepping out of cover to take aim himself.

At that moment, Rainbow Dash shot out of cover like a bullet. In a flash, she’d reached Jefferson, pulled the LAW off his back, and shot forward at high speed between the legs of the spider walker moving barely a few centimeters above the ground.

Screeching to a halt in midair, her wings beating like a hummingbird, she twisted the weapon around to face the rear of the Tachikoma.

She punched the button, and fired the rocket. It rammed into the machine’s radiator. At such close range, it passed through the ammunition storage and right into the pilot’s exoskeleton before detonating.

The sensor module on the front of the thorax blew out, spewing flames and shrapnel.

It stumbled and fell forward, collapsing with a tremendous sound.

“Holy shit, that was awesome!” Melissa said, stepping out of cover.

“Everyone sound off!” Vaughn called out.

Members of the squad reported. Including the sergeants, there were thirteen marines left.

“Jefferson’s KIA.” a human corporal said, “I’ll get his tags.”

“Uh...we need a medic over here!” Andrew said loudly, “Fluttershy? Someone?”

Fluttershy shot up from where she’d been hiding, “Andrew?”

She spotted him crouched near Corporal Ceres, hands covered in blood.

The pegasus rushed over with uncharacteristic speed, and immediately grabbed his hands, “What happened? Are you alright?”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine!” Andrew said, looking at her like she was crazy.

Ceres spoke through a gritted beak, rocking back and forth as he held one of his lion legs, “Doc, he’s fine, that’s my blood!”

Fluttershy winced and cringed, “Oh...uh...sorry! Shot in the leg, right? Did the bullet go all the way through?”

Petty Officer Santiago finally arrived, pulling his pack off and opening it, “Ms. Shy, I doubt you’ve had experience with high-velocity gunshot wounds, but I assume you know how to bandage and splint.”

Melissa looked around for the rest of the gang. Rainbow Dash settled down near her, “I’m fine. What do I do with this?”

She held up the empty tube of the LAW.

“Regulations say to destroy it. The VC used to use them as boobytraps.”

Rarity popped out of somewhere, somehow clean amongst the dust, “I can do that.”

She used her magic to crush the LAW into a long pancake shape. “No one will make a dastardly trap out of that, surely.”

Pinkie Pie appeared, “Not unless they paint it brown and put it on a rolling board and someone mistakes it for ginger bread and try to bite it and really hurt their teeth!”

“I don’t think anyone would be willing to go that far.” Twilight said.

“Everypony alright?” Applejack asked, scanning the area with her carbine at the ready, “There might be more of those things around.”

“Tachikomas,” Melissa said, “That one was ahead of the pack I think. Without infantry support it’s vulnerable, which is why tanks don’t normally do that. Must’ve gotten lost or something.”

“What a coincidence, so are we.” Twilight deadpanned.

“No we’re not.”

A smoke cloud bloomed in the distance, and a Harrier jump jet zipped across the sky.

“See? That way’s the strongpoint.”

Melissa glanced over at the dragon sergeant, “Vaughn! Everyone is accounted for!”

“Right. Let’s move out!”

“Hey, little help here?” Ceres asked, his hind left leg bandaged.

Santiago pointed at Andrew and Fluttershy, “You two will help me with him. Two of us will carry him and we’ll swap out.”

Andrew hauled the griffin up onto his remaining hind leg, pulling one arm around his neck while Fluttershy floated on the opposite side holding the other arm.

The unit moved down the street toward an alleyway, intent on avoiding the major roads. They kept the wounded in the center of the formation.

“You know, I could carry him if you wish.” Rarity spoke up when Fluttershy swapped out with Santiago.

Ceres’ eyes widened, “Nope! No, that’s okay! I’m good with the human crutches over here!”

“Darling, it’s no trouble, you’re injured--”

“Oh, what a shame, they’re already carrying me, too late!”

Rarity huffed, “Honestly, you’re worse than Melissa when she had the flu!”

Vaughn glanced at Melissa, “You have a problem with magic flu cures too?”

Melissa snorted, “Yeah. I’m all for snapping my fingers to make the flu go away, but man does magic make me nervous.”

“My mom never understood that. Other kids hated shots, I hated magic cures. Terrified of it exploding in my face.”

“Really? I always had a problem with shots.”

“Oh, me too!” Rainbow Dash said, hovering above them.

“I don’t like the needle, but I like the injection!” Pinkie said.

The other three looked back at her.

“Should I…?”

“Don’t even ask.” Rainbow moaned.

They reached the vicinity of the plaza 1st platoon was supposed to be holding out in. The alleyway they were in gave a good view of the plaza. The plaza was a large intersection centered around a large grassy park. There were a few buildings nestled in the center of it, including one of recent construction that had sustained heavy weapons fire. It was the building the rest of the platoon seemed to be holding out in. They could see riflemen and crew-served weapons poking out of fortifications. In other areas they could see the khaki uniforms of the Equestrian Army, as well as some of their cannons. It seemed elements of a few pony companies, and one of their gun batteries, were mixed in with the marines.

“Holy shit, they’re in The First Hipster!” Melissa whispered, putting down her binoculars.

“The what?”

“Nothing. Looks like they’re in trouble.”

Groups of Changeling soldiers were arrayed near the main road from the castle emerged from the buildings, coming from the direction of the castle. A pair of Tachikomas were helping them suppress the defenders.

One of the pony guns boomed, throwing up dirt near a Changeling heavy machine gun.

Closer to the position of first squad, a Changeling APC accompanied by a dozen or so infantry was emerging from a side road seemingly unnoticed by the defenders. It was circling around to try and flank them.

“Private Wagner, front and center!” Vaughn barked.

The hippogriff radio operator crept forward, passing the handpiece of the PRC-77 to the sergeant.

“This is Warden 1-1 to Falcon group. Do you copy? Requesting immediate air support on the following coordinates.”

He passed the handpiece back, “Alright. Foster, Sparkle. Air support’s coming in. They’ll knock out the walkers--”

“Tachikomas.”

“Whatever. They’ll suppress the enemy while fireteams Alpha and Bravo flank them, while Charlie team will knock out that APC.”

Twilight crept forward, “What about the rest of us?”

Vaughn looked at her, then to Melissa, “Foster?”

Melissa grimaced, “Twi’...”

Twilight’s gaze narrowed, “We won’t just guard the non-combatants. Andrew and Rarity can do that. You’ve got four able-bodied ponies here, and I note that ‘Fireteam Alpha’ consists of one injured griffin, and one earth pony.”

She pointed to the pony carrying an M16 further down the line for emphasis, “where do you want us?”

Melissa smacked the side of her helmet, “Screw me, I’m an idiot!”

She turned and called down the line, “Someone pass up the last M72!”

As the weapon was passed up, Melissa looked at Rainbow Dash, “Dashie, you take the LAW and sneak over to a rooftop near that APC. Pinkie Pie, you follow her with your cannon. You’ll be with me and fireteam Charlie. Twilight, you and AJ can join the other fireteams.”

“What’s the plan, Sergeant?” Vaughn asked.

“We keep with your idea, we just make sure that APC goes down. The armor’s gonna be weaker on the roof, so the LAW can take it out if we hit it from the top. Pinkie can use her…” Melissa sighed, “I can’t believe I’m saying this-- she can use her party cannon to distract them and maybe even screw with the turret until it blows.”

“Hopefully they’ll appreciate the cake,” Pinkie smiled, “At least before they explode.”

They carried out the plan rapidly.

A Harrier jump jet flew overhead to deposit a few cluster bombs right up the Changeling tail pipes.

It came back for another pass, halting in midair to spray the Tachikomas with machine gun fire.

Rainbow managed to hit the enemy APC right on target, blasting it apart before anyone could respond. When the survivors attempted to rally, Charlie Team sprayed them with machine gun fire.

Both groups of foes, when they could take no more, took off toward their own line at high speed, carrying any wounded with them.

The squad suffered some injuries, as well as another man killed. A lance corporal from fireteam Bravo.

When the shooting stopped leaving the squad in cover, Vaughn and Wagner crept up to the strongpoint.

The grass had been churned up by hoof and footprints, as well as shovels. Marines and ponies had dug shallow foxholes and firing pits. An M47 Dragon anti-tank missile launcher crew was dug in behind a low rock wall. A mortar was positioned nearby. All pointed their weapons at the pair of marines approaching.

“Texas!” someone called out.

“Star!” Vaughn replied, “We’re first squad! Just took care of those bugs for you!”

A human stuck his head out of a foxhole, “Hey, Vaughn! Where ya been, man? We didn’t think you guys would get outta there!”

Vaughn looked at the sergeant in charge of third squad, “We’ve taken casualties, Wilson, but otherwise most of us are fine. Can the rest come forward?”

Sergeant Wilson nodded, “Sure. We’ve been waiting for second squad to come back and bring hell right with them. Could use all the hands we can get.”

Vaughn waved to the rest of the troops, and they ran across the plaza toward them.

As Vaughn checked each soldier, as well as the Mane Six, for any signs of problems, one of the third squad sentries popped up out of cover, “Hey, Sergeant Wilson! Shouldn’t we double-check all their guys?”

Wilson narrowed his gaze, “What do you mean, private?”

“Well, sir, we’re fighting Changelings, how do you know all their guys are who they look like?”

Wilson nodded, “Good point. Vaughn, any ideas?”

Melissa spoke up, “The Mane Six over here are all who they say they are. Maybe we can just ask questions we know the others will…”

As she spoke, she glanced over the rest of the squad nearby, and trailed off. Her eyes picked up on something the human corporal in charge of fireteam Charlie had on his belt.

“...that the others will know.”

As the others quizzed each other, Melissa lowered her rifle and stepped over to the corporal. He hadn’t approached anyone else.

“Corporal, what’s that in your belt?” she asked calmly.

He glanced at her, “Ma’am?”

“What is that on your belt?”

He patted his belt, “Uh...ma’am…”

“That’s a gameboy.”

“Yeah…?”

She abruptly snapped up her taser, “Put the rifle down, turn back to normal, and put your hands on your head.”

Muskets and M16s leveled at the corporal.

He laughed nervously, “Uh...guys, I’m not...no! You know me! I’m...I’m…”

“What’s your name, bug?” Melissa sneered, “It’s a pretty simple question.”

“Uh...uh...Jonesy?”

Melissa tased him. The Changeling twisted and contorted before shifting back to normal, dropping the rifle and falling to the ground limply.

“Holy shit!” someone yelled. Several pony troopers rushed up weapons at the ready.

Applejack trotted over, her carbine raised nervously, “Is he…?”

“He’s gonna have a hell of a headache, but he's alive. Little bastard must've grabbed the real corporal...hey Vaughn, who's this guy supposed to be?”

“Corporal Shephard,” Vaughn said.

“What?” Andrew said, grunting with the load of Ceres.

“Not you!” Vaughn poked the unconscious foe with his boot, “I thought he was being fishy…”

“Corporal Shephard, huh? More like Corporal 'dog meat’ to me.”

“What?” Andrew repeated.

“Coincidence, Andy! Different spelling! Only one ‘e’!” Melissa turned back to look at the prone foe, “They must've gotten him in the wedding hall.”

She turned to Sergeant Wilson, “Better check there's no more of these guys in the ranks.”

“How’d you know, Foster?” Vaughn asked, “You don’t know the guy.”

Melissa crouched near the Changeling, who moaned softly. She plucked what looked like a PDA off his belt, “Score...None of y’all have Gameboys.While the Chesapeake Bay probably had a few hundred, I assume you can’t replicate them. Aren’t they like a military resource, with all those computer chips? Douchebag Mcgee here knows what Gulf War soldiers look like, but he doesn’t know what you guys carry. Also he may have been quoting Dr. McNinja.”

“Good point. You’d better bring that with us, we gotta go see the lieutenant.”

Melissa nodded and stood up, “Twi’! C’mon, we gotta report in!”

Pony soldiers dragged the prisoner away, while the rest of the squad spread out to offer what aid they could.

Andrew passed Ceres off to Santiago, and jogged up to Vaughn, Melissa, and Twilight, “You guys need me for anything?”

Vaughn grimaced, “No offense, Mr. Shepherd, but I don’t think we will.”

Andrew’s eyes widened, “Uh…’kay...Melissa? Twilight?”

Melissa looked at Twilight. He noted an odd exchange in their eyes.

“Guys?”

Melissa rubbed the back of her head, “You’ve been out of the loop man, and you’re not a soldier. Maybe check and see if Santiago needs your help.”

Twilight shrugged at him.

Vaughn pushed the two along, “C’mon, they’ll be mounting another attack soon.”

Andrew scowled slightly, and walked off.

They entered the remains of the restaurant, finding a M2 Browning machine gun position near the entryway. Inside a handful of soldiers, Equestrian and US, along with a number of terrified civilians, milled about inside. They passed injured soldiers and civilians in an improvised infirmary.

Twilight’s expression was disturbed, seeing the missing limbs and intense amount of blood.

Is this what Earth is like? Explosions, injuries, maiming, insanity...I can’t tell if it’s any better or worse than our world.

They approached Second Lieutenant Cole, speaking with her platoon sergeant.

“First squad, reporting in, Lieutenant.” Vaughn said cooly.

“We’ve got a few wounded, two in need of CASEVAC, ma’am.” Melissa said.

Cole nodded to her platoon sergeant, “See to it. You two, where have you been? Mission status?”

“We weren’t able to capture the commander. We rescued a group of civilians and the crew of Ripsaw 1, they’re in the tunnels headed for the HQ. We also grabbed the Mane Six.”

Cole gestured at her radio operator and squinted at Melissa, “Who?”

“The ones who made the sky go all screwy a while back.” Vaughn said.

“And…?” Cole asked.

Twilight coughed, “Excuse me, lieutenant, my friends and I are this…’Mane Six’. We control the Elements of Harmony.”

Cole grimaced, “That might work against one angry alicorn, but probably won’t work against an alien force this big.”

Vaughn sighed, “Yes ma’am. What are your orders?”

Cole glanced at Melissa, “Sergeant, you can still do demolitions, right?”

“Ma’am, I’d--”

“Good. I need you to help strengthen our defenses. They’ll be launching an attack pretty soon. Vaughn, get your troops to help hold down the fort. Second squad’s gonna be back soon, and they're going to be bringing hell with them. Corporal, what’s the status on the Bobcats?”

The human radio operator she spoke to was listening intently to his headset, “Sirs, we’ve got a problem!”

XXXXX

Kilometers away, Baron Flight 1, a formation of two US Navy Douglas A-1 Skyraider attack aircraft, suddenly broke left and right.
Four blurs streaked through the space the pair of planes had previously occupied.

As Baron 1-2 rolled over a streak of light shot upward from the low hill he was above, and struck the underside of the aircraft.

The engine seized up as the pilot peered out his viewscreen in astonishment-- the nose was coated in blueice!

The propeller shattered the ice smoothly formed over it with its momentum, but the engine itself had had it. It had melted the ice, and was now filled with slush.
“Fucking unicorns!” the pilot roared, wrestling with the control surfaces, “Longbow, this is Mayo, going down! Repeat, Baron 1-2 going down!”

While his wingman went gliding downward, Baron “Longbow” 1-1, continued jinking around, accelerating and climbing in altitude.

Suddenly a pegasus in an Equestrian Wonderbolts uniform slammed into the canopy. Just like that. A bug on a windshield.

Her orange mane whipped about in the wind as she slid back along the canopy. Longbow could see her flight goggles were cracked, and they locked eyes with one another for an instant.

The pegasus’ eyes widened in concert with the aviator’s, both recognizing the person on the opposite ends of the proverbial --or in this case, literal-- gun sights.

The moment vanished. Longbow waggled his wings when it became apparent she was trying to hold on, and pulled up.
The Wonderbolt slid back along the fuselage and barely managed to grab the tail.

She dug at a holster pinned to her side and the pilot noticed too late that she had taken out a revolver and pointed it at him.
Three rounds pinged off the canopy, one catching him in the shoulder.

Longbow sent his plane into a spiral to try and throw off her aim.

One. Two. Three more gunshots.

Then there was the explosion.

The pilot was thrown forward against his restraints. He hit his head. Shrapnel flew everywhere. He could hear the sound of something beginning to burn somewhere in the plane. Time shifted somehow. Nothing was moving right. Something hurt in his back and his leg. He could feel something trickling down the inside of his flight suit.
Black smoke filled his vision, and he realized there were several bullet holes in his controls. The damaged altimeter was frozen at a descending angle.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday! Baron 1-1 transmitting in the blind! Going down! Am hitting the silk!”

His controls weren’t responding. Longbow pulled the canopy ejection mechanism and the bubble of plexiglass vanished in the wind.

He reached down to his side, pulled the ejection lever, and...nothing happened.

Longbow leaned for the alternate system under his feet. He felt intense heat against the torn glove, and bent over as far as he could.
He could see light reflected along the floor panels; something behind and below his seat was on fire. Something in the ejection system was damaged. Perhaps the pegasus had clipped the rockets. Maybe that was what exploded. Or it was fuel. Or it was any one of the elements that made up the 3.6 metric tonnes worth of explosives under him.

Longbow’s head swam. Darkness in his vision. Heat against his back. He had to get out. He grabbed the sides of the cockpit, trying to pull himself up and out into the slipstream. His arm burned. He couldn’t get himself out. Something was stuck.
Longbow’s could see the ground rapidly approaching. He pulled and tugged and yanked in terrified frustration, begging and pleading with the blockage to let go let go let go!

He felt pony arms grabbing him around the waist. The Wonderbolt was there beside him, barely maintaining contact with the plane by holding onto him.
She used a knife to cut through his restraints and their connection to the halfway launched ejection seat.

With a mighty heave, the Wonderbolt pulled him free of the dying Skyraider.

Something in his ejection system finally worked, and the parachute shot upwards. As it unfurled the Wonderbolt found herself caught in it. Somehow the harness took both their weight.

Below them, the Douglas A-1 Skyraider nosed downward, clipping the treetops of the valley below and slowly descending. Fragments blew off in its wake. It dropped through a clearing above a lake, bounced off the surface of the water, and slid into the dirt on the other side.
There were a series of explosions in it's trail, it's ordnance going up. A blast shook the plane and rolled it over, separating the fuselage from the starboard wing.

Longbow pulled open his oxygen mask, panting as his heart rate decreased. It was so quiet all of a sudden, almost deafening. The air was cold and sweet, a breeze rippled through the parachute above him. The beautiful landscape stretched out far around him. It felt like he'd spent years in that burning cockpit.

“That was close,” a husky female voice gasped, also out of breath, “Another few seconds and we'd have been toast.”

Longbow glanced up at his passenger, still caught in the parachute lines and balanced precariously on the risers.

“You alright?” She asked, pushing up her damaged goggles. There was a hint of confusion and shock in what little of her face he could see, but her voice was calm.

Longbow furrowed his brow, taking time to process what had happened, “Why...why did you save me?”

She looked at him like he was the crazy one, “It wouldn't be right to let a stallion die like that. Especially not another aviator. I'd be a disgrace to my uniform if I did that. Are you sure you're alright?”

Now that she asked, Longbow felt like crap. “Not really. I hurt my back, right leg, and my right shoulder.”

“Well, my ground crew's a few miles away, and we can probably find your wing buddy to help. You'll be alright. I'm Commander Spitfire, REAF Wonderbolt. Who are you, and why are you attacking us?”

Elsewhere, the first section of the Bobcat convoy, led by two tanks and four AAVs, were presently holding off an ambush.

They had advanced into a valley. It was mostly forest, running uncomfortably close to the road. Perfect place for an ambush.
And that was exactly what had happened.

An AAV commander near the head of the convoy had been standing up out of his top hatch, reclining somewhat and enjoying the sun. The aliens were in the city, not out here, and the ponies were equipped with antiques. Why should he worry?

Bang. A minie ball clipped his helmet. He ducked down back inside his vehicle as a tremendous racket like hail pelted his amtrack.

A massive array of firepower opened up from the forest. Gatling guns, rifled cannon, Springbok rifles, and 12-pounder smoothbores carried by Equestrian Army soldiers poured onto the marines.
The Equestrian Army soldiers had opened fire on orders from Canterlot, personally signed by Princess Cadence. They had to stop the dastardly intruders into their lands, with their smoking ironclads and snarling flying machines.

Results were unsatisfactory.

Their cannonballs and low-velocity bullets similar to those of the American Civil War bounced off the armor plate intended to stop Soviet anti-tank weapons. Even the trucks and humvees proved to be extremely resilient.

The AAVs in the convoy pulled off the road, finding a covered position between the ambushers and the convoy. They suppressed the enemy, and dispensed smoke.
The trucks and humvees, as per convoy doctrine, took off at high speed out of the ambush zone.

A quick response force arrived to aid the convoy escort elements in escaping under the smoke. The 2nd and 3rd LAR platoons of eight LAVs, protecting the flanks of the convoy, moved to protect the vulnerable elements that sped on ahead.

The next wave of the convoy, with the other two tanks, advanced into the ambush zone to lend a hand.

“What do we do about the ponies?!” demanded the commander of Charlie Company, artillery booming in the background as he radioed Colonel Waters, “You want us to just let them pick off our infantry one by one? Colonel, those guns can’t touch our vehicles, but leathernecks aren’t exactly bulletproof!”

Waters looked down at the map table he stood in front of, tracing out every route to Canterlot. This was the fastest. There was no other way.

He sighed, and picked up the radio, “Captain...minimize casualties as much as possible, but above all, prioritize getting to the city. Don’t fire upon any forces that haven’t fired on your own, and take whatever means are necessary to protect the convoy. Hansen needs these reinforcements, and we can’t afford any delays. Do what you can, but don’t let that get in the way of the mission, understood?”

“Understood, Colonel. We’ll be careful.” The captain cut the transmission.

The Equestrian Army bought even less time for the Changelings than expected. With their pawns of Equestrian foot soldiers useless, it was time for another trick.

Observing the carnage from a range of a few thousand meters, atop a hill was a Changeling soldier lying camouflaged under a small tent. His rifle lay to his side, and he lay on his belly typing on a computer screen. The hill had a great view of the valley. He raised a pair of highly advanced binoculars to peer downrange at the clouds rising in the distance.

On his computer was an overhead view of the valley, with the road outlined. Several large red squares were on the road, and more were on the hills to either side. Several dozen red diamonds were scattered around them.

The soldier reached out and touched the screen, selecting groups of green symbols arrayed all around the road at varying distances. One by one a status indicator for each group appeared on the soldier’s display.

Alien script scrawled out, and the Changeling typed rapidly. He pressed his version of an “enter” key.

Immediately he hopped to his feet, packing up his equipment and took off at high speed.

The first line of code reached a nearby rack of two six-barreled weapon systems, swept forward and mounted on a rotating platform.

There was no loading system, no ammunition belt. The munitions were stacked on top of each other in the barrels like a roman candle.

The soldier didn’t hear a dramatic boom, but instead a sound like a warning buzzer. He paused to look back at the mortars, as their first salvos launched away faster than the eye could see. On the hills around him, more “buzzers” rang out, and a barrage of death rose into the air revealed only by the distortions they left in their wake.

The autonomous systems could take care of themselves from now on. They were disposable. He was not. The heat released by the weapons would make them a great big flare on any enemy infrared scanner, and a clear target.

This was standard procedure, the soldier was part of the Pufferfish units. Similar to their namesake, these units were trained to make themselves appear larger than they actually were.

Make a dozen soldiers seem like an army.

An Equestrian private was dug in to a trench just within the tree line, and ducked to avoid a burst of enemy fire. He popped back up, and aimed his rifled musket at one of the lighter enemy vehicles.

The land ironclads they couldn’t touch, but the trucks looked vulnerable.

As he squeezed off a shot, the truck exploded. The troops around him all ceased fire, as did the enemy.

The pony line sent up a cheer, and the private peered at the tip of his musket, wondering what had happened. Had he somehow hit something vital?

At that moment, there was a piercing shriek, like that of a load of roundshot, before a hail of fire exploded against one of the smaller ironclads.

Flames erupted from the vehicle’s turret, squashed against the hull and perforated with shrapnel.

It continued rolling forward as humans spilled out of the front and rear hatches, halting when it bumped into a tree.

At the same instant, dirt was thrown in the air by another rain of fire hitting the gatling gun dug in to the private’s left. The stallions and mares around him hit the dirt on instinct, hearing more screams from Tartarus’ fury raining down on the gun positions further up the hill.

The private stuck his head up, looking to the gatling gun. There was nothing left but burning wreckage, nothing remained of its crew.

“Move, move, move!” the sergeant shouted, “Out of the trench! Up the hill! They’ve got our range!”

A fusillade of bullets came out off the curve in the road up ahead, cutting down infantrymen taking cover near the lead Patton tank, nicknamed Drunken Carnage. They fired back with rifles and a grenade launcher, but the gun still fired.

It was a terrifying and strange sound, not like normal bullets at all. It was more like the densest cloud of hornets anyone had heard, or an electronic buzzer.

Carnage’s commander called out, “Gunner! Target left!

“Identified! Range, 150 meters!” the gunner cried.

“Fire!”

“Coax on the way!”

The tank fired the machine gun mounted beside its main cannon and tore through the unseen target. A small reparation for the dead and the dying.

Another gun opened up, bullets pinging off the hull-- from the port side this time. The commander could see it through his periscope, a metallic turret that appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a farm field.

It wasn’t a normal gun, it was shaped like a hexagon, and the short side facing him had a shape like a plus sign. He recognized with horror the dozens of recessed gun barrels that made up the white sign. Every time the “buzzer” sounded, a dash of dust spewed out from each barrel.

More bizarre than the design of weapon, there was no sign of a gun crew. It rotated entirely on its own.

“Enemy machine gun! Left side!”

“Identified! 200 meters!’

“Load HE!”

“Up!”

“Fire!”

“On the way!”

Another shell shrieked away, impacting the ground beside the weapon. It was blown to pieces.

“Break break. This is Ogre 1 to convoy. Meeting heavy resistance. Indirect fire. Autonomous, I say again, autonomous machine gun positions. Unable to verify if indirect fire is autonomous. Requesting orders.”

The tank abruptly surged forward, turning off the road and driving into the fields off to port.

“Driver! What are you doing?!” the commander demanded.

“Getting us out of the way of those mortars!”

The commander popped up out of the turret only for his goggles to be splattered by whatever was in the wagon they ran over.

He wiped them off in time to see a puff of smoke and a muzzle flash on one of the higher hills. There was another shriek of mortar fire and the tank darted to one side, allowing a shell to explode where they just were.

“Ogre 1 requesting air support! Grid coordinates! 10-6 by 8-0-6!”

The convoy escorts and quick reaction force scattered, looking for any sort of cover and concealment, all the while their armaments scanned the region for targets.

Infantry ran with the vehicles, some leaping aboard to get out of the ambush zone. Others dove into ditches, into craters, a few even into the Equestrian trenches. They fought back just as hard as their vehicle counterparts, though their efforts were less noticeable.

A SuperCobra roared overhead, curving around to fire on one of the mortars.

A pair of AAVs fired their grenade launchers and successfully destroyed a position. A scarred Changeling soldier missing two legs was thrown into the open, writhing in pain as flames consumed his uniform.

Two marines fired grenade launchers at another hardpoint of automated guns.

Skyhawks threw down high explosives, saving a group of pinned-down alliance and Equestrian soldiers from another machine gun.

Corsairs ripped up the ground around a nearby mortar with their machine guns, finishing it off with a pair of rockets.

A pair of Harriers hovered over a halted AAV and its comrade, suppressing the machine gun-mortar combination further up the slope.

As fast as they took out the enemy positions, it seemed as though two more popped up to replace them.

Drunken Carnage, befitting her name, was driving down a hill and inadvertently ran over another machine gun before it even activated. This time they were rewarded with a gut-wrenching scream from alien vocal cords.

The ambush seemed to be faltering. The flight of harriers protecting the convoy’s more vulnerable elements ran a sweep of the foothills. They were smaller than the ridges protecting the ambush valleys, and didn’t appear to have any hostile contacts.

Hopefully the escorts could catch up.

“Break break! Incoming fire!”

The harrier that spoke vanished in a ball of fire. The second’s engine nozzles swiveled, “Taking evasive action!”

He streaked off in a direction that took him away from staging areas and the fleet, flares strewn in his wake, with a high-altitude aircraft coming closer and closer in behind him.
“Hostile enemy aircraft! Unknown classification! I’ll try--”

The second harrier’s transmission was cut off.

The convoy had no time to grieve, or even to process what had happened. They were set upon by modern weapons fire. From the hills all around them.

“Christ, is this how the Iraqis felt?!” the commander of Bravo companyshouted, watching his infrared scopes pick up tanks and armored vehicles that had been concealed on the hills.

Their adaptive camouflage systems couldn’t conceal the heat from their guns, but that was unnecessary now.

The convoy had gone into herringbone formation to avoid air attack, spreading out to either side of the road, only to be driven right toward the third ambush. They took cover as best they could, and fought back hard.

The enemy planes drove the human air cover away with ease. They could barely even track the damn things, let alone fight them. They could outclimb and outrun even the human Skyhawk jet fighters.

These enemy planes were on par with F-22 Raptors of the 21st century, while Skyhawks had gone up against MiGs in Vietnam.

As they swept the human aircraft back, their cockroach and junebug troop transports arrived to deposit even more armored vehicles and troops.

Stinger teams fired, managing to take down several junebugs before they were destroyed themselves.

The LAR platoons arrived to lend a hand, but they weren’t designed for stand-up fights. They had to close the distance to the enemy vehicles just to stay alive.

The convoy was in trouble. Escorts spread out too far, their transport vehicles under heavy fire, air support was obliterated from Canterlot all the way to the beach…

It wasn’t just that the enemy had overwhelmed them. No, they’d screwed up. Bad.

Operation Market Garden, half a century earlier, had suffered a similar fate.

An operation that would end a war rapidly, that relied on rapid reinforcement of air-dropped forces. Such plans were always risky, with plenty of chances of failure.

And Alpha Company was playing the part of Major John Frost’s beleaguered unit.

It was about to get a lot worse.

XXXXX

A marine PFC, a scout on 1st platoon’s right flank, was in a bell tower overlooking an Equestrian Army position. They had perhaps a company of troops in the buildings along the street, and a pair of light cannons at the intersection. They might not do much against tanks, but they'd pack a wallop.

The sound of a Stinger firing caught his ears. He looked up to see an alien helicopter soaring low over the buildings, dropping below the missile as it went wild and pursued the flares in the aircraft’s wake.

"Shit...!" He hissed, and leaned out of the tower, "hey! Take cover down there! Take cover!"

A dozen or so small containers fell out of a compartment on the back of the helicopter, falling right past the scout and onto the troops below. He scrunched up preparing for the blast, but it didn't come. Instead, when he looked down, a snow white cloud was growing steadily out of the containers. A smoke screen?

It approached the artillery first. The pony soldiers started coughing, grabbing their necks. Some fell to their knees, vomiting before becoming prone. Others attempted to stumble away.

“Shit, shit!” he grabbed his radio, “Break break!This is Lima 1-2-4! We’ve got chemical weapons, repeat, we’ve got a aerosol chemical weapon on the loose! The left flank’s collapsing!”

The scout made a step toward the stairwell, but couldn’t leave his post. He moved back to the railing, “Hey down there! Get to high ground! Get to high ground!”

He tried to block out the sound of the soldiers coughing, screaming, and collapsing. The stairs thundered as a handful of the smarter ones figured it out.

Lieutenant Cole’s radio operator had a horrified expression on his face, having already informed her of the status of their air support and reinforcements, “Lieutenant...the left flank’s collapsing! They’ve got some kind of sleeping gas!”

Cole raised an eyebrow, “Wait, sleeping? So it’s non-lethal? That’s something at least…”

Melissa grimaced, “They’re probably using it to keep victims alive so they can trap them without resistance. Wonder why they haven’t used it more.”

“We’ve got gas masks,” Vaughn said, “The ponies haven’t invented chemical warfare yet. Great way to knock out most of our forces.”

“It’s probably a one-trick deal though, we’ll know to prepare for it in the future. They must be using it as an ace in the hole.”

“It’s certainly working right now!” the lieutenant snapped, “My left flank’s about to roll up! I’ve lost something like half of it!”

“Recommend you get either everyone without a mask out of the underground, or get a bunch of fans to use overpressure to keep the gas out,” Melissa said, “That gas is gonna settle down in the lowest areas. Hell, get some unicorns if you can’t find fans!”

“I know how to fight in a city, Sergeant,” Cole snapped, “Get your ass out onto that street before--!”

There was the sound of shells screaming in, and the building shook. Several people were knocked to the floor.

Melissa and Vaughn helped Twilight to her feet, “Let’s go, let’s go! We got incoming!”

They rushed outside to see a dozen marines, and two score Equestrian soldiers come hurtling toward the strongpoint from the direction of the main road.

Several of the marines stopped to fire off a round from a Carl Gustaf recoilless rifle, and unload small arms, while the rest sprinted at full speed toward safety.

“Texas!” someone called out, rising from the trench.

“Fuck the damn countersign!” a pony marine with a single chevron on his uniform screamed, “We got bugs! Lots of bugs!”

“Stop and give me something, man--!”

The pony pointed back toward the street he’d come from. “Look at that you bastard! We gotta get the hell outta here!”

What looked like a cloud of darkness was a few hundred meters away. It was a cloud of Changeling soldiers, centered around a small armored convoy of APCs and Tachikomas, as well as four of their main battle tanks. Their engines were tremendous, but not quite as loud as an M1 Abrams. Who knew what kind of energy was driving them?

The tanks were rumbling down the highway, driving around the shell craters and pointing their guns at...

“Take cover!”

Melissa pushed Vaughn into a foxhole, feeling the shockwave of the high explosive shell pulling at her pack. The shell missed anything significant, but took a chunk out of the restaurant.

Lieutenant Cole stuck her head up from behind cover, uncovering Twilight after protecting her from the attack, “Return fire! Concentrate fire on the little ones, leave the MBTs to the TOW!”

“What’s the plan, Lieutenant?” Melissa called out.

“Same as before, Foster! Don’t talk back and fall back in an orderly fashion! Help get first squad ready to move!”

“We going to call in the reserves--?”

“Foster!” Cole barked, “Get to work!”

Melissa swallowed, and nodded. She helped Vaughn up, and waved Twilight over.

“What do you need us to do?” Twilight asked.

“Keep us from dying! We need to get ready to move, I think I know what the LT has in mind.”

They moved from cover to cover, to the foxholes first squad had dug to protect themselves and the ponies. Or rather the trench. The almost two meter deep trench.

The three dove into it, and Vaughn glanced at his remaining corporal, “Henderson, how'd you manage this?!”

Henderson grinned, “got two Earth ponies with us!”

Applejack fired her carbine over the lip of the trench, “aw, it weren't nothing!”

Twilight said, “nice work Applejack. It would be even more impressive if we didn't have to move in thirty seconds or so!”

“What?” Rainbow almost whined, “but the bad guys are right there! Let's just--”

“Our air support’s FUBAR!” Melissa said, “they're probably gonna wipe out the artillery pretty soon! We're going to get the hell out of dodge!”

Rarity spoke up, “in that case, shouldn't we make sure we're all accounted for? Where's our little medical team?”

Vaughn facepalmed, “Henderson?”

“I dunno, sir! I mean...I think Santiago took them inside! I’m not sure!”

“Fuck me…” Melissa snarled, and started to get out of the trench.

Machine gun fire tore over her head, and she immediately went back down. “Let’s deal with that later! Twilight, don’t you have some sort of concussive spell?”

“Yeah! Why?”

“Try and flip over the Tachikomas!”

The TOW launcher fired off another round as the marines opened fire. Mortar fire rained down on the enemy infantry while the Browning unleashed hell.

A Dragon anti-tank launcher targeted one of the main enemy tanks. The round was slightly off-target, and hit an APC behind it instead.

Unfortunately, the tank they’d targeted found their position, and blew the crew to pieces.

Soldiers started to fall as the Changelings closed the distance, and could target them with firearms.

Slowly, but steadily, the Changelings were pushing their way into the square.

“We’re getting murdered out here!” Twilight yelled.

“No shit!” a griffin snapped, pausing to reload.

“What in equestria are we waiting for?” Rarity called out, “We must withdraw!”

“The lieutenant’s got a plan!” Vaughn called out, “She might be…”

He ducked to avoid enemy fire, “...she’s got a plan. She always has one, somehow.”

A trench of Equestrian soldiers exploded.

“Really?!” Twilight barked, “She does?!”

Artillery fire rained down on the enemy yet again, and a new sound reached their ears.

Heavy engines. Internal combustion.

A Tachikoma, advancing on their position, crumpled to pieces under a barrage of autocannon fire. A line of Changeling soldiers were swept out of the air.

The squad poked their heads out of the trench. Three humvees, two trucks, and an LAV were arrayed at the opposite end of the plaza from the Changelings, partially in cover behind the building. First and second squad of 2nd platoon had arrived.

Messengers ran through the defensive fortifications, “We’re pulling out! Everyone fall back!”

Melissa pulled Rainbow Dash and Applejack off the line, “C’mon, we’re falling back!”

“But--”

“Now, Dash!”

The team leapt out of the trench, quickly retreating across their battered fortifications. A griffin too slow to get out was caught by the approaching foes, and was dragged off screaming.

The Changelings rapidly overcame the withering defenses, the buzzing of their wings like demonic mosquitoes chomping at their heels.

Demonic mosquitoes that shredded a hippogriff from Vaughn’s command from the waist up.

A marine running beside Twilight caught a bullet in the shoulder and fell. Without hesitation, she picked him up with magic and kept running.

Pinkie Pie turned around, dropped her cannon down, and fired it into three Changelings about to attack Twilight.

One would think getting hit with cake batter wouldn’t hurt that much, but anything with enough force can hurt…

And if the cake batter has been mixed with some incredibly sticky substance, it can make it extremely difficult for wings to flap. Or to even move.

The platoon reached the trucks, climbing on or clinging to whatever mounts they could find.

Melissa hopped onto the back of one of the uncovered 6x6 trucks, hanging off a cargo handle as she checked to make sure everyone was aboard.

The truck’s engine revved and started to move, but Vaughn was lagging a few meters behind.

She reached out to grab his claw, “C’mon, Vaughn! Reach!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a Changeling rise out of cover, its rifle raised.

She couldn’t reach her weapon, she couldn’t warn him, the truck was moving, she--

Blam!

A gunshot went off near her ear, and the Changeling fell squealing to the ground.

Melissa grabbed Vaughn’s outstretched claw and pulled him aboard.

“That’s all of them! Let’s go!” Wilson yelled, pounding on the cab of the truck.

Letting Vaughn move past her, Melissa tilted her helmet and stuck a finger in her ear. Beside her on the edge-most seat sat Andrew, a smoking M1911 in his hand.

“Nice shot!” Melissa yelled over the ringing in her ears.

“Least I’m still good for something!” he said.

Melissa gave him an odd look, and glanced around the truck bed, “Where are the civilians? The wounded?”

“The tunnels,” Andrew said, “They sent the guys who were the worst off along with the civilians on a route out of the city. They said that was why you guys were out there so long.”

“That, tragically, did not include me.” Coporal Ceres spoke up, leaning into view, “I apparently still count as walking wounded.”

“Well, you still have three legs, man…” Andrew pointed out.

“Oh shut up, four-eyes. I need two of them to hold my rifle!”

“How can you hold a rifle and walk on all fours at the same time?”

“Both of you shut up and scooch over,” Melissa barked, “I’m hanging off into space here!”

XXXXX

The battle in the air was not going well. The heavy transport planes en route from the Terran Alliance territory with airborne paratroopers had been rerouted.

From the Jackson’s battle group, the Skyraider squadrons were virtually wiped out, with the Corsairs fairing little better against the enemy air superiority aircraft.

They were massive compared to the pitiful piston aircraft. With a vague teardrop shape similar to the possibly-apocryphal-possibly-not USAF F-19 fighter, they had a small radar profile and a limited weapons loadout. However, their loadout had a much greater range compared to the Sidewinders and autocannons the humans possessed.
Their stealth capabilities and weapon systems would be problematic enough were it not for their speed, flight ceiling, and maneuverability. The Changeling fighters, these “Wasps”, were designed with similar capabilities to the SR-71 Blackbird and the F-35 Lightning, resulting in a high-performance multi-purpose aircraft with VTOL systems. They could land or takeoff from runways, forest clearings, and travel at altitudes high enough to interact with a low-orbiting starship.

The three remaining Harrier jump jets were a generation behind the F-35s, the latter designed to be an improvement on the first.

The Skyhawk fighter jets were from the same generation as the Harriers, only the start of it instead of the tail-end.

There were only twelve Skyhawks from two squadrons remaining. Four Corsairs from another squadron. Most of the remaining Skyraiders had bugged out, completely unable to lend a hand in this situation.

There were eight operational Wasps in the air, out of nine they had started with. One had been lightly damaged and returned to the starship.

It was a near impossible task, but by god they would try.

Colonel Waters at the beach watched the distant air battle through binoculars. His command was falling apart. He’d sent out the last of his available reserves a few minutes ago. Most of the marine air element was grounded or destroyed. Just about the only thing getting in and out of Canterlot were CASEVAC helicopters, and that was probably because they hadn’t accidentally shot down any Changeling medical helicopters.

He ignored the sounds of the howitzers pounding on a nearby hill, and tried to figure a way out of this.

A glint in the sky and sonic booms caught his attention, and he fixed his binoculars on another point in the sky, much closer.

Three black teardrops tore through the air, vapor cones traveling in their wake. They were heading right toward the fleet.

Waters called to his radio operator, “We’ve now got twelve enemy fighters in total, three inbound to the fleet. Better let them know!”

The warning was unnecessary. The Chesapeake Bay could see the enemy strike fighters inbound. She’d been coordinating the battle with the air combatants, but hadn’t been able to engage using the fleet’s missiles. They could barely see the things, only a handful of radar sets could pick them up and at inconvenient ranges.

An E-2 Hawkeye Airborne Early Warning aircraft, as per its design, was able to overcome this. It extended the radar range and spotted them approaching, again from seemingly nowhere.

The Chesapeake Bay’s computers spoke with commanders on the fleet as they fell into a battle formation.

12 RIM-66 SM-1 missiles arched skyward, guided by a variation of the Tartar Guided Missile Fire Control System, named after a previous generation of missiles. Another wave followed them closely.
Yet while quantity has a quality all its own, they were still not enough. The stealth surfaces and spoofing systems of the enemy fighters were enough to evade several missiles, and they raced past the rest with sheer speed.
Joining the fight, the Chesapeake Bay’s bow and stern lit with fire, twice in a row, as she lit off two pairs of her last remaining RIM-66 SM-2 missiles.

The SM-1s were decades older in design than the SM-2s, more of the precious relics brought from home. They were faster, more accurate, and more powerful.

The crews watched on their displays as the missiles closed with the enemy. Two went wild, a third simply missed, but the fourth managed to detonate just behind one of the aircraft lagging just behind the rest.

A ragged cheer went up as it turned away from the fight, then became stronger as the other two broke off their attack run and arched back around toward shore.

“What are they doing?” Admiral Curtis wondered, sitting at a control chair trying not to pose like Captain Kirk. Though he no longer commanded the Bay, she would forever be his flagship so long as the two were in the same fleet.

The Chesapeake Bay’s current skipper, Captain Baxter, shook a fist at a viewscreen, “We drove them off, admiral! I recommend we pull the fleet in closer, see if we can’t offer the infantry a hand.”

“Baxter,” he said, looking at her, “We didn’t shoot any of them down, and they’re not vectoring any of their other planes onto our position. That stinks of something in the works. Am I right or wrong?”

The captain grimaced, “Right, sir. Should we stay in formation, or try to help the infantry?”

“Stay in formation until we can solve this.” Curtis ordered.

15 minutes later he got the answer. The USS Randolph, a few thousand meters away, suddenly crumpled, its center vanishing and lifting the two broken halves of the ship into the air.

The clouds above were chopped and rippled outward like disturbed water. A neat circle formed in them as if with a knife.

Seconds later, there was a tremendous whoom! Like the loudest thunderclap anyone had ever heard.

Waves like a small tsunami spread outwards from the slowly disappearing warship.

A frigate huddled close to the vessel capsized over onto its side, spilling sailors into the water. The other ships in the fleet turned desperately into the wave as rapidly as they could.

The Rio Grande, their supply ship, was hit at an angle, and listed heavily to starboard. The San Antonio was tilted to a lesser degree, but the Sea Knights resting on its hull, along with several tonnes of supplies, spilled into the water. The Houston was in a similar state, spinning somewhat after being hit at an angle.

A destroyer on the opposite side of the Randolph was swamped, one if its helicopters sliding dangerously along the landing pad.

The Chesapeake Bay herself leaned to her side as she tilted toward the surge, throwing crewmembers about, a spray of water crashing over her decks.

Curtis struggled to maintain his position in his chair, and instinctively called out, “Get me a damage report! Get us out of the way of another attack like that, and watch for those fighters!”

Captain Baxter glared at him, “Admiral, let me worry about my ship! Worry about the fleet!”

Curtis winced. Even after all these years he still caught himself doing that.

“I need an external camera.” he told an aide, “Get me a status update on the rest of the fleet. Call back more of our squadrons to deal with those wasps! That attack was probably to take the heat off of them!”

The rest of the fleet accompanying the Jackson a few thousand meters ahead came out alright, at least from the first attack.

Another round of whatever weapon destroyed the Randolph hit the sea just behind the other ships. The thunderclap reached them an instant before the waves did. The Midway-class carrier, massing 40,823 tonnes, rode out the storm well, facing directly away from the attack, but some of the other ships, massing at least of quarter of that, were affected. The cruiser USS New Washington, lagging behind the others, became swamped. The two frigates and remaining destroyer started listing.

“Looks like that one missed!” Baxter said with grim satisfaction.

“Yeah, but they just FUBAR’d half our firepower!” Curtis snarled, “And our biggest Amphibious Assault Ship!”

“What the hell was that?”

“Project Thor.”

XXXXX

“Oh fucking blistering barnacles in a shit typhoon!” Melissa choked out, face buried in her hands.

Captain Hansen looked at her, “That’s a colorful expletive.”

“Yes, she’s like that, captain,” Twilight said, “What is this ‘Project Thor’?”

They stood in the command center of Alpha company, surrounded by staff trying to coordinate the fighting retreat being waged through the city. 1st and 2nd platoon, along with a large number of Equestrian soldiers, had been barely able to withdraw through the tunnels in the ridge in sector 4 only a few minutes ago.
Melissa, Andrew, Twilight, Vaughn, Sergeant Wilson, Cole, along with the senior officers and NCOs of 2nd platoon, and the rest of Alpha Company’s commanders, all stood around a table covered in maps of the city.

The radio operator who’d told them the news of the carrier strike group was slowly edging away. They could take artillery but not quite Melissa’s cursing.

“I haven’t heard of it…” Lieutenant Cole muttered.

“Really? None of you have read Footfall?” Andrew grumbled.

Hansen looked at him, furrowing his brow and somewhat confused, “Mr Shepherd...or is it Doctor?”

“Could just call me Andrew for now…”

“Andrew...do you have something to add?”

Andrew glanced at Melissa, “Why not you?”

Melissa looked up at him, and raised her eyebrows, “Uh...okay…? Sure.”

She cleared her throat, and adjusted her helmet, “Project Thor was a plan in the 50s for kinetic bombardment. Big tungsten rods the size of telephone poles that would drop from orbit at mach ten and hit the ground with the yield of a nuclear weapon but without any of the rads. It’s a bit like how an asteroid wiped out the dinosaurs, only on a smaller scale, though theoretically it could be used to wipe out all life on a planet. It’s pretty common in sci-fi--”

Cole held up a hand, “Sergeant Foster, get to the point!”

Melissa exchanged a look with Vaughn, “...yes ma’am. The weapon is extremely powerful, and can hit a point on the planet in about 10-15 minutes depending on the system utilized. If they’ve got mass drivers, or railguns, or whatever up there for kinetic bombardment…” she grabbed her head in frustration, “...we’re fucked. We are utterly fucked. Oh sweet merciful shoggoths this is the plot of Out of the Dark! Goddamn space-based weaponry you fucking cheating bugs, we can’t even hit back! No wonder we couldn’t detect their aircraft coming in, they’ve got their ship up there! Fuck me, I should’ve thought of this!”

Twilight bumped her elbow with her head as a cat would, and gave her a knowing look. Melissa sighed, and nodded.

Hansen looked to his officers then back to Melissa, “Isn’t...isn’t there anything we can do? Aren’t there any weaknesses?”

Melissa shrugged, “Well...sure! They’re actually kind of impractical. They’re predictable in their orbits, have no abort function, can’t hit moving targets too well(as evidenced by the Jackson surviving), depend highly on extremely precise targeting systems, and haven’t been used historically because they’re not cost effective. The launchers can be shot down too, and with a powerful enough laser...”
She shook her head, “But, we don’t have any of that stuff!”

“Sergeant--” Cole started to say.

“Lieutenant, with all due respect, I’m not being insubordinate here! I’m trying to figure a way out of this! And I don’t...wait, do you guys have any ASATs?”

Hansen shook his head, “We’ve got a few satellites, but no Anti-Satellite Weapons. And we’re months away from that being feasible.”

Melissa sighed, slumping forward with dejection, “Okay. We’re dead. That’s it. I mean, we can survive as guerillas, but you can say goodbye to large-scale resistance. They’re probably going to wipe out the Alliance first, then bomb other parts of the planet. Or just wipe out all human military presence, blame us for the destruction, and probably take the place of Celestia to make the Equestrian army conquer everything.”

Twilight put a hoof on her arm, “Melissa, calm down. Think; what would we need? You’re the expert here, what would we need to beat them?”

“We might be able to take them on if we had 21st century tech, but we don’t. We need missiles, we need lasers, we need spaceships. We don’t have any of those things! We’re gonna have to become insurgents.”

“We’ve got a ship.”

All eyes turned to Andrew.

“Excuse me?” Lieutenant Cole asked.

“We’ve got a spaceship, I said,” Andrew inched his way back into the circle, “In the archives, they’ve got a Dream Chaser.”

“Dude, the Sophia’s grounded.” Melissa said, “That thing’s not getting off the ground without a booster...”

She trailed off, mumbling, “Wait a minute...she still has power and still has her...”

Looking around, she noted no abnormalities in anyone’s attire or equipment. She glanced around at the marines operating the command center with a suspicious eye.

“Has everyone here been verified as normal?” she asked.

“As best we can without tasing people at random,” said an officer, “Can’t be totally sure though.”

Melissa nodded, “Alright. Lieutenant Cole? Captain Hansen? With your permission, I’d like to submit a plan.”

They offered their permission, and she pointed at a map of the city, “We might be able to win a tactical victory here, though most likely only if we manage to pull out with all our forces intact. In any case, no matter what we do, we’re going to lose strategically so long as they hold the orbitals.”

“So what do we do?” Cole asked impatiently.

“We can’t win conventionally. We don’t have enough troops, and our air power is wiped out. Even if we destroy this city with nukes, which I doubt Twilight will allow, as the most senior representative of their government with us.”
Twilight stood up straight, “What?”

“You’re Celestia’s student, and with pretty much all higher authority MIA or incapacitated, you’re the highest authority. Would you allow us to use nukes if it meant stopping these guys?”

“Of course not!” Twilight said with disgust, “This city holds millions of ponies, and is the heart of our government and economic base! Isn’t that why we’re defending it?”

Melissa nodded, “Thank you, senior government official! So, we can’t win conventionally and we can’t use nukes regardless of what the Brass will argue. Our only chance of stopping them rests on getting rid of that starship in orbit.”

“You said it was impossible.” Vaughn spoke up.

“Well…” she flushed a little, “I kind of forgot about the Sophia. It’s the Dream Chaser spacecraft you guys might remember from the briefings. It’s in the Canterlot archives under the castle. It still has power, and still has its weapon systems, two laser cannons.”

Murmurs went through the soldiers.

“If we can get to it, we might be able to use it to shoot at the enemy ship. We’ll either use its engines to get it into the air for a few minutes, or we’ll at least shoot through a skylight or something, whatever. The phasers it has aren’t Star Wars turbolasers. They can’t destroy it, but they can at least blind its sensors and scare it into a higher orbit where it can’t get accurate targeting data for the kinetic bombardment system. It should screw with their reinforcements, if they haven't set up many bases down here, which I doubt they have since they seem to be dropping them Starship Troopers style. That’s what I was talking about earlier, and why they show up on radar so suddenly. They’re dropping through the atmosphere.

“It will also hopefully cripple their air power, cutting off their resupply. The airborne will be able to make landings, and we’ll be able to push the bad guys back.”

She glanced at a logistics NCO nearby, “Hey, Corporal! How long would it take for the airborne to get here? What’s their fuel situation?”

He checked his watch, “They were ordered to stay in the area when we waved ‘em off, but they can only do that for a couple hours. Maybe...two hours?”

Looking around the table, Melissa said, “Did you all hear that? We’ve got to make this decision now.”

Cole raised an eyebrow, “Sergeant, in case you’ve forgotten, the archives are in enemy hands.”

Melissa put a map of the underground on the table, “that's why we’re going to go through the sewers. Sergeant Vaughn, would you and first squad be willing to accompany this sapper to go and set space on fire?”

Cole glared at her, “Sergeant, in case you’ve also forgotten, you’re under my command. I need first squad to defend this city, not go--”

“Ma’am, we’ve taken 50% casualties,” Vaughn pointed out, “I have three KIA, four MIA, and two WIA--”

“Everyone’s taken casualties, Sergeant, and we’re low on assets already--”

Hansen rubbed the bridge of his nose, and in a calm stern voice spoke, “Lieutenant Cole?”

“Yes…?! Sir?” she asked, visibly calming herself down.

“I appreciate your advice, but ultimately the decision here is up to me. Clear?”

Cole suppressed a scowl, “Yes sir.”

“Now,” he glanced at Alpha Company’s first sergeant, “Nelson, is it true that Sergeant Vaughn’s squad is one of our most understrength units?”

First Sergeant Nelson nodded, “They’re understrength, but still combat effective. We can either deploy them for this mission or keep them with 1st platoon. Vaughn, would you agree?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hansen looked at Melissa, “Sergeant Foster, are you sure you can do this?”

“Sir, I don’t see any other choice.”

He looked at his other officers, “Anyone else know the chances of this working?”

Hansen looked at a man with corporal’s chevrons on his collar and GI glasses; his intelligence officer, “Toby, know anything about lasers?”

The corporal scratched his head, “The Mid-Infrared Advanced Chemical Laser was still in development when the Chesapeake left home, and we didn’t get much info on it after that. It could dump out a megawatt of power though, and they were hoping to use it to shoot down satellites. They had a ton of bugs with it though...Will these even work in an atmosphere? I’ve heard about all the problems with directed-energy weapons--”

“These lasers do only about 30 kilowatts from what I know of,” Melissa said, “And they have much less range than the MIRACL system did. But I only know the specs of the one designed to be mounted to ships, not the Sophia, which I’m guessing has much better systems. Anyway we don’t need it to work well, we just need it to scare them and get them into a higher orbit.”

The other soldiers spoke amongst themselves.

“C’mon, what do we have to lose?” she demanded, her hands balling into fists, “Eight soldiers or the entire human presence on this planet?”

Hansen sighed, “Alright. Lieutenant Cole, your first squad is to go with Sergeant Foster to try and get the sky back.”

Cole’s face was passive, “Yes sir. Vaughn?”

“We’re ready to go whenever, ma’am.”

Melissa grinned, “Alrighty. Hopefully we don’t all die!”

She glanced around the table, then to Twilight expectantly.

When Twilight just looked back, Melissa’s expression flickered, and she elbowed the pony.

“Huh? Oh! Everypony-- body, as the senior-most member of the Equestrian government present, and by default the supreme military commander of forces within Canterlot, I must propose a mission of my own.”

At the alarmed expressions of the humans, she quickly added, “I will do nothing to interfere with your military operations. In fact, as I am inexperienced in such matters, Captain Hansen, until you are told otherwise or an individual senior in rank to myself is recovered, I am going to grant you joint command of the Household Division, along with whatever senior officers survive.”

Hansen blinked, then nodded, “understood, ma'am. Is this the only part of your plan?”

Twilight shook her head, “no, Captain. As…”

She hesitated, and briefly glanced at Melissa, “...as we cannot put all our eggs in one basket, I propose that a team consisting of myself, my friends, and Andrew also go through the underground to try and retrieve the Elements of Harmony.”

Cole scoffed, “Ms Sparkle, I --”

“Lieutenant, be quiet,” Hansen glared at her, “Ms Sparkle, you have a go.”

Twilight glanced at Melissa.

“That means yes.” Melissa explained.

“But sir--!” Cole started.

“We don't have time for this, lieutenant. We need all the assets we can get. Corporal,” he called to the logistics NCO, “See to it that first squad gets priority on resupply.”

“Yes captain!”

Melissa, Twilight, Andrew, and Vaughn walked out of the command center building, into the staging ground area around it.

Artillery still boomed, but with a lesser intensity. Contact had been lost with the airfield and the artillery battery there as they'd made it back to friendly lines.

The command center was located in a section of the industrial sector, one of the administration areas. It had plenty of space and didn't run the risk of machinery getting in the way, but also had enough smoke nearby to make junebug or vulture attackers think twice.

The area was filled mostly with Equestrian soldiers and civilians, all waiting for their chance to get back to the front lines or to the train station respectively. A handful of marines were in the area getting resupply, or were runners delivering messages.

A UH-1N Huey helicopter marked with the red cross came down nearby to load up casualties.

“Hey Vaughn,” Melissa asked, “how's Ceres?”

“He went out on the last helo, along with the rest of our wounded.”

Andrew tapped Melissa on the shoulder, “Melissa, come with me.”

Melissa looked at him, and took a step away, “Why? Where? What do you want? I’m warning you, I’ve got Glamdring, Orcrist, my .45, a taser, and an alien pistol--”

Twilight glared at Andrew, “Andrew, for the love of Celestia don’t get her going like this.”

“I swear to great Cthulhu that I’ll--”

Andrew growled, and all three noticed his Colt at his side, “Tell me something only the real Melissa would know!”

Melissa raised her M16 slightly, but put out a hand to stop Vaughn, “What? Dude--”

“Tell me!” he snapped.

She let her rifle dangle from a clip on her vest and crossed her arms, “As you wish. Commander Firebrand and I had to rescue you from that scuffle with his troops involving that one magazine store. You know the one. Now, tell me something only Andrew would know.”

“Well, I once caught you in your car with your laptop and--Oof!”

She punched him in the stomach, making him double over.

“What in Tartarus are you doing?!” Twilight demanded, grabbing Melissa’s raised fist.

“Sergeant, stop!” Vaughn barked, seizing Melissa’s other arm.

Melissa struggled in their grips, “You want to try putting a gun in my face again, Andrew?!”

“No,” Andrew coughed, “Not really!” Twilight released Melissa’s arm and went to help him to his feet.

“Then what the hell--”

Vaughn took hold of both Melissa’s arms when she tried to break free again, “Whoa, Foster!”

Twilight looked between the two, “Andrew, Melissa, what’s the matter with both of you?!”

“Melissa, are you insane?” Andrew roared, “Your plan sucks! How the heck are you going to hit anything in the sky with that ship on the ground, let alone in space?! I checked the specs,” he pulled out the iphone for emphasis, “Those phasers can’t hit anything from down here! They can barely hit anything outside a few miles down here! You forgot the thing even existed! I had to be sure you weren’t a Changeling!”

Melissa broke out of Vaughn’s grip, “Damn it all, Andrew! Why can’t you trust me for once?”

“I do trust you right up until you start sending people to their deaths and punching me! Okay, I’ll admit, pulling a gun was a little rash, but this is crazy!”

Vaughn looked at her, “Foster? What’s he talking about?”

Twilight was confused as well, “Melissa…?”

Melissa rubbed her face, “No--! Fuck man, did the concept of--! Just, just, just trust me, damn it!”

“Tell us what’s really going on, Melissa!” Andrew barked, “I think we deserve it!”

Melissa scratched her head, “Look, everyone, I know the plan seems ludicrous, but you have to trust me. I didn’t tell you things before because I was stupid, but now it’s because we won’t have a chance of winning if I tell you!”

She dragged Vaughn and Andrew away from bystanders who were staring, gesturing for Twilight to come along.

They stopped in a nearby alleyway, and Melissa sighed, “Okay. Vaughn, I know you haven’t known me very long, but you have to trust me. This plan will work. Andrew, I know I’ve hidden things before, but this time it really is necessary.”

Andrew looked at Twilight, “You were just as angry as I was before we got attacked. What’s your take?”

Twilight looked at Melissa, then back to Andrew. “...I trust her. This is different from before. She has a plan.”

Andrew gaped at her, “But...but…”

He looked at Vaughn, “Hey, dragon dude, she…she...”

Vaughn was holding one arm by the elbow, using that arm to rub his snout, “Alright, I don’t know what happened between the three of you, but it needs to either be resolved now, or needs to be put on hold. Foster, are we still going to the same place in your secret plan as with the regular plan?”

“Yeah, Vaughn. My plan’s pretty much the same, just what we’re gonna do when we get to the Dream Chaser is different from what I told them.”

He nodded, “Alright. I’m gonna trust you, Foster, you haven’t done anything to shake my faith in you. You don’t seem like the cowardly type, so obviously you think what you’re doing is right for the good of others. Andrew, it’s gonna be my tail in the fire here. I can keep an eye on her, if that’s what you want.”

Melissa snorted, “Thanks Vaughn.”

She looked at all of them, a hint of sadness in her eyes, “Regardless of what you all think of me, this is a moment that will decide the rest of the planet’s history. My plan should work, and it could save us all. I just can’t tell you all the details because of the possibility of spies.”

She looked at Andrew, “Dude...you’ve lived here longer than I have. Do you really want to see this whole place burn to the ground because of a stupid feud between the two of us?”

Andrew looked away. He stared at Twilight for a long moment, “Fine. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. If you end up killing us all, I’ll never forgive you.”

He walked out of the alley, “Twilight? Don’t we have some quest to deal with?”

Twilight looked at Melissa briefly, then followed.

Melissa looked at Vaughn. His dragon eyes were as cold as they were when in public, and he stared right back.

“Foster…” he started, then took a breath, “Just don’t get us all killed. Tell me next time we do this.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, “You...you’re okay with this?”

“My platoon leader is Lieutenant Cole, Foster. She has a problem with telling us all her plans, but they always work out. At least you have the decency to at least tell me you've got a secret plan. Anyway, if we fail this mission, we’ll probably be dead, and if we win...let’s just say I don’t really have much of a choice. And I volunteered for this shit, not getting told things is part of the job description. Just promise not to end up like the lieutenant.”

Melissa chuckled darkly, still a little shocked, “Alright, Vaughn. I promise. And I hope nothing like this ever happens again.”