“Destroy this city of delusion,
Break these walls down,
I will avenge!
And justify my reasons with your blood.
You will not rest.”
Muse, City Of Delusion.

Interview Record: H. M.
File Codename: “Limiting Factor”.

Interview subject: Captain Daniel Romero (D.R.)

Interviewer note: Captain Romero is a long-term associate of the PHL and UNAC, whose unit’s independent work on Newfoals, the Geas and the potion cannot be underestimated. Despite numerous official complaints, it is and will continue to be R&D’s policy to continue working with him.

Personal note: Gardner, I know you’re reading this, so fuck you and the horse you came in on. Earth horse, pony, I’m not particular. It’s not our fault REDACTED decided to play agent provocateur with a lunatic, and it’s not our fault you can’t see the good Romero and the others have done. So for the last time: butt. The. Fuck. Out.

D.R: Parallel universes.

H.M: That’s right.

D.R: And what’s your interest in those?

H.M: That’s a long story. Right now, I’m just trying to collate opinions and information.

D.R: And which am I?

H.M: Whichever you can be, Captain Romero.

D.R: Alright.

(There is a pause.)

H.M: Well?

D.R: Well, it seems a bit obvious that they exist, if you wanted my opinion on the subject. Equestria is one, after all.

H.M: You think so?

D.R: Oh please. ‘Equestrian standard’ is English - it’s even written like English. Their names are plays on words of our own. They even have the damn Hippocratic oath. There’s no way they’re not some parallel timeline where we all ended up magical horses.

H.M: That’s an odd thought. And a disturbing one.

D.R: Yeah. Alright, so. Opinion pieces out the way, you want any information I may have about them, right?

H.M: Well, if you have any.

(There is a pause.)

D.R: Well that rather depends, don’t it?

August 9th. En route to Bastion. Undisclosed location.

When Luke opened his eyes, he took a moment to remember where he was. He was being driven in Officer Yarrow’s APC: a bulky, ugly thing that made up for the cramped interior by being fast and well-armoured.

“You alright, pal?” one of the Reavers asked him. He had his helmet on, so Luke couldn’t tell who he was.

“Uh… yeah,” Luke replied, still a little disoriented. “I think. Where are we?”

“Somewhere,” the Reaver replied. “We should nearly be at Bastion now.”

“Right,” Luke said slowly. “Okay.”

“Hey, don’t sound so glum,” the Reaver said. “You’ll like Bastion. Maxi’s built a really nice place.”

“You mean the Commander?” Luke asked.

“Yeah,” the Reaver said. “Most of us just call him Maxi. He’s not really a ‘Commander’ kind of guy like some officers.”

“Stow the chatter back there!” came a voice from the driver’s cab. Sure enough, Samantha Yarrow came crouch-walking out of the cab, one arm going up to steady herself. “You guys done with your confab?”

“Sorry, Officer,” the Reaver said.

Yarrow looked serious for a moment, and then her expression split into a wide grin. “Only pissin’ around with you, mate. Chill.” She looked at Luke. “He’s right about Dad. He’s one of that kind of guy who’d be a gardening enthusiast if there wasn’t a war on.”

“I… see,” Luke said, not sure how to react. “Sorry, it’s just… I’ve heard stories.”

“Oh?” Yarrow said, sitting down.

“Yeah,” Luke said. “About a guy called Yorke?”

The other Reaver made a sound somewhere between a sneer and a laugh, the helmet distorting their voice heavily.

“Yorke was a rapist, a psychopath, and an asshole,” Yarrow said, her expression soured. “He deserved what he got. He sullied the unit, he sullied the cause, and he sullied the human race.”

“I… I heard he was…”

“He was,” Yarrow said. “And Dad was right. He deserved it.” She sniffed. “I knew the pony he tried to…” She shook her head. “Nice lass. Or mare, or whatever you call ‘em.”

Luke nodded, still not sure what to think. “I just… I never met a high ranking officer before. And he’s… well, he’s the commander.”

“He doesn’t really like using the rank,” Yarrow said, her smile returning. “Try not to think about it too much, okay?”

“I… okay,” Luke said, nodding.

“Anyway,” Yarrow said. “We should be at Bastion soon: I’m going to need you to tell my Dad everything.”

Luke nodded again. “I’m ready, Officer Yarrow.”

Yarrow chuckled. “Call me ‘Sam’. ‘Officer Yarrow’ makes me sound old.”

“Oh, okay, uh,” Luke said, “Sam.” He coughed. “That feels a bit weird.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Sam said with a wink. “Don’t worry, alright? Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Nearly there, Sam!” the driver of the APC called back to her.

“Gotcha, Sean!” Sam called back. She looked at Luke, and grinned. “You’ll wanna see this.”

Bastion's outer walls were a combination of wooden palisades and a couple of wood and metal towers surrounding the town within, giving it the image of one of those old-west forts one used to see in movies. There were also a couple of concrete mixers outside these, men in tank tops and hard-wearing jeans hard at work building what looked to be concrete walls. There were already a few metres of concrete walls in progress, though nothing overly defensible yet.

At the dirt track entrance were two emplacements, both of them packing big turrets that looked like some sort of advanced gear - likely Armacham tech, if Yarrow’s Armour was anything to go by. Luke suppressed the urge to snort: a few days ago he’d have been lucky to have an automatic rifle. He’d had to stick with an M4 with an old bumpfire stock. And, to make it easier to aim, he’d had to find a new stock and pistol grip for it. Clearly, something must have been going right for this side of the Split.

“Not bad, right?” Sam asked. “She’s a little rough ‘round the edges, but she’s home.”

“Officer Yarrow,” one of the soldiers by the gate said, a man in Lighter ATC armour with an earpiece in. “Good to see you. How was your mission?”

Sam’s expression faltered. “It wasn’t good. But I need to talk to Dad about it before anything else.”

“Gotcha,” the man said. He tapped his earpiece. “Open the gate. We’ve got family returning.”

He immediately turned and headed towards the palisade gate, waving to a couple of the guards as he did so. They waved back, and the gate creaked open slowly. Sam smiled, and motioned for Luke to follow her inside.

Inside the gates, there was a small town. The buildings, such as they were, were simple log cabins, only adding to the image of the old west fortress. Some of them were interspersed with ATC prefabs, command towers and the like, creating an almost schizophrenic image. Armed men were walking about - dozens of them, in fact - clad in heavy armour. To Luke’s surprise, there were civilians too. He could see women and children running around, looking for all the world like normal kids, even as they ducked and weaved between armoured legs.

It’s like Defiance, Luke thought. He’d never seen the so-called ‘heart of the HLF’, but this place reminded him so much of the stories that he couldn’t help but draw a comparison.

“Like it?” Sam asked.

“I do,” he replied evenly. “I… really think I do.”

Hadley’s Hope

Cairn was staring again. The object simply sat on his desk, glittering slightly in the light. It was so deceptively simple, this thing, and yet so beautiful. Like a pure, unsullied piece of art, too pure to have been made by human hands alone.

“Sir?” a voice asked from somewhere far away.

He could have sat there, staring at it forever. It was so beautiful. No pockmarks, no hard edges. Perfectly smooth, perfectly even. Celestia herself could never have made such a wonderful thing: it had to have been the work of -

“Commander Cairn-san?” a voice said again.

Reluctantly, Cairn tore his gaze from the sphere, and blinked. Sun Dere was staring at him, a cheerfully expectant look on her face.

“Have you completed the scheduled paperwork, Commander?” she asked diligently.

“The what?” Cairn asked. He slowly shook his head. “No, no I… no.” He paused. “I… What was I supposed to do?”

“Honoured Lieutenant Colonel Shieldwall-san requested a report on the ponification of the town, Commander,” Dere said cheerfully. “His letter was written in what I am reliably informed is an insistent tone!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cairn said. “Wasn’t he… wasn’t he meant to be coming?”

That would be good. He could look at this beautiful stone too, and then surely his work would be improved. Yes, seeing such a thing would be bound to improve anyone’s day. It was, after all, so…

“Commander Cairn-san?”

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I just…”

Show it to her.

He paused, blinking. What had that been?

Show it to her.

Yes, he thought. Yes, that might… that might work. That might… do…

“Sun Dere,” He said evenly, “have you seen this?”

Sun Dere looked at the object, then frowned, as though concentrating.

“It’s a contraband object, Cairn-san,” she said after a moment. “You are obligated to investigate it and then destroy it. Death walks from the shadows and no light may escape it.”

“Excuse me?” he said.

“I said you are obligated to investigate and destroy it,” Sun Dere repeated. She tilted her head. “Is your hearing impaired, Commander? The blood of innocents must be spilled to avenge the blood of innocents.”

“Again!” Cairn said, pointing a hoof at her. “What did you just say?!”

“I do not understand, Cairn-san,” Sun Dere said, twitching. “What are you asking me? He comes, vengeance in his wake, death in his shadow.”

Cairn put a hoof to his mane. “That - that -”

He lowered the hoof, and suddenly shoved the object slightly away from him. It stopped short of falling from the edge of his desk, teetering ever so slightly. Dutifully, Sun Dere touched it with her own hoof, and pushed it back onto the desk. Cairn watched it as it made a soft scraping sound, his eyes fixated on it.

“Commander Cairn-san.” He looked up to meet Sun Dere’s eyes. Her expression was oddly serious. “I must report that you are not acting within standard operating procedure.”

Cairn let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Yes, I… I suppose I’ve been a little stressed on this mission.” Something occurred to him. “Send Doctor Horse in. I want his medical opinion.”

“As you say, Commander,” Sun Dere said evenly.

Somehow, Cairn was incredibly relieved that of all the things Newfoals could be expected to question, that was not one of them. And why is that, I wonder?

Still, it would be good to get Horse’s opinion. He was a solid sort of stallion. Reliable. Wasn’t prone to flights of fancy.

And he… he should look at this thing too.

Maybe he can tell me why it’s so. Very. Captivating.

When Sam reached one of the many log-cabins, she stopped.

“Here we are,” she said quietly. She looked at Luke. “My father will want you to be honest. So be honest.”

“Uh, yeah,” Luke said, nodding. “Honest. Right.”

Sam winked, and then pushed the door to the cabin open.

The first thing that Luke noticed was that it was simplistically decorated: there were a few maps of America, certain areas highlighted. A few notes – Lovikov here, Grant here – were scribbled onto certain parts of the map. And there, in a red circle, was the town of Nipville.

A man in a long green military overcoat with a shaven head was standing over a desk. The desk had another map, this one a more detailed one, showing a smaller area. Luke thought he could make out ‘Bastion’, ‘Hadley’s Hope’, and a few other names. Another man was with him, a grim and angry looking man in biker leather daubed in more of those Norse symbols. He looked up as Sam and Luke entered the cabin.

“Sam,” he said curtly.

“John,” she replied. She looked to the man in the military coat. “Dad.”

“Officer Yarrow,” the man – clearly Maximilian Yarrow – said, looking up. He looked at Luke. “And your Nipville survivor.”

“Um, Luke Scott, uh, reporting, sir?” Luke tried, feeling awkward as all hell.

‘John’ laughed. “Hark at the militiaman trying to be a proper soldier.”

Yarrow glared at him, and he immediately shut up. That done, the Commander looked back at Luke, and gave him a small smile.

“Mr Scott,” he said. “I’m glad you survived.” He motioned for Luke to sit down. “That’s an English accent.”

“Yes, sir,” Luke said. “I’m from Leeds originally, sir.”

“Good city,” Yarrow said. “A little crowded, I always found, but nowhere near as bad as further south.”

“No, sir,” Luke said with a little laugh.

“Relax, lad,” Yarrow said, smiling. “All I want to hear is what happened. The truth.”

Luke swallowed. “Right. Uh, well…”

“Start by telling us what you were doing in Nipville,” ‘John’ began.

“Uh, right,” Luke said, nodding. “Well… uh… well.” He coughed, and suddenly felt acutely aware of the three pairs of eyes staring at him. “We, uh, were in our designated patrol route, y’know? Nipville and a couple of the other towns in the area know us. So, uh, the guy - some ‘Fraktion officer or something? I didn’t catch his name. But, uh…”

“But he recruited you,” Yarrow said heavily. “Right?”

“Just to hold the outer border, and to get the locals to trust ‘em,” Luke said, nodding. “Um, he said it would facilitate their operations.”

Yarrow swore under his breath. “Like I’ve said before. They recruit independents. Let me guess, your unit’s Commander didn’t really pay attention to the split.”

“Um, not really,” Luke said, shrugging. “I mean, it was a bit above us, y’know? But, uh, the ‘Fraktion guy had the proper serial ID and stuff.”

“Of course he did,” ‘John’ said heavily. “Fuckin’ Christ.”

“Idle,” Yarrow said in a warning tone. It took Luke a second to realise that was the other man’s name. Yarrow looked back at Luke. “So: you didn’t know what they were doing in there?”

“They, uh, didn’t ask for us, sir,” Luke said quietly. “Said it was classified?”

“Easy to manipulate these lads into doing the shitty jobs so they could focus on having the ‘real fun’,” Idle said scathingly.

Yarrow ignored him. “And then the UNAC?”

“Uh, I don’t really remember the attack,” Luke said apologetically. “One minute we were fine, then there was a yell from someone, an explosion, and then the next thing I remember is waking up being looked after by that Jim guy.”

“Jim,” Yarrow repeated. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Sam.

“Jim and Hiro Mifune were both there, sir,” Sam said. “They stayed behind in Nipville.”

“Of course they did,” Yarrow said quietly. He looked at Luke. “I’ve seen some of the pictures Sam and her unit took, and they have helmet cam footage as well. I just needed to know what your involvement was. Were they any other units besides yours and the ‘Fraktion?”

“Uh,” Luke blinked, trying to remember. “Some guys called the ‘Sons of Macha’, and some other people who I think might’ve been Christian Marines?”

“Like I said, Bowen and O’Donnell are on Galt’s side of the split,” Idle put in. “That fits with their movements and the lack of communication from them.”

“That’s how many units confirmed on their side?” Sam asked.

“Nine in total,” Yarrow said quietly. “The ‘Fraktion, the Thenardier, the Christian Marines, Taskforce Paris, the Sons, what’s left of Carter’s Irregulars, nevermind that they’re folded into the Thenardiers at this point, the Gluepots, the Lost Legion and the Horncrushers.”

“What about the BD?” Idle asked.

“Rogue independents,” Yarrow said tiredly. “And, unfortunately, not our problem to deal with. They’re too far away for effective handling.”

“We’ve got more units on our side,” Sam said quietly, “but the ‘Fraktion has the edge in pulling in the local independents.”

Luke had started feeling like this conversation had gone over his head the minute they’d started talking about other units.

“Uh, excuse me?” He asked quietly.

Yarrow looked at him, before smiling. “Sorry, this is all a bit much I bet. Tell you what: go outside, ask for Preacher. He’ll see you right.”

“Uh, thanks,” Luke said, smiling. Sam gave him a final, friendly smile, and then he left the cabin, wondering what exactly was going to happen to him now.

Sam and Idle stood, silent, for a few moments after Luke had exited. Sam had a small, triumphant expression on her face. Idle was scowling - that was nothing new, though, he always scowled. Maxi tried to keep his own expression studiously neutral, but he knew it was a losing battle: he could feel his brow furrowing.

We could have done without this shit, he thought grimly.

“So, nine units,” Idle finally said. “I’d say Lovikov and Galt are the worst.”

“Grant’s unit was always dangerous,” Yarrow said quietly. “And Lovikov has Kraber, Benning, Gunderson, Murphy, and a dozen other hardened killers on his side.”

“Taskforce Paris should still be a consideration,” Sam put in, turning to look at a map of America. “Our intel on them is sketchy at best.”

“Agreed, but they’re a smaller unit, and they’ve mostly remained focused, even on that side of the Split,” Yarrow said quietly. He stood, walking to the map and tapping it. “The area around Montreal is a hotspot right now. All sorts of mess.”

“Agreed,” Idle said quietly. “With Lovikov there, we know there’s a lot of potential for him to right royally fuck us over, not to mention the war effort.”

“Which makes dealing with him our first priority,” Yarrow said quietly.

Sam and Idle exchanged a glance.

“Not the PER?” Idle asked.

“Or the PHL?” Sam added.

Maxi paused, looking at both of them. “Lovikov represents a consistent threat to the chain of HLF command. He’s a cornerstone of the other side of the split. His potential to disrupt the war effort is considerable. I want him gone. Do you both understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Idle said at once.

“Yes, sir,” Sam echoed, more reluctantly.

Maxi frowned at her for a moment. Something’s going on there.

“John,” he said to Idle. “If you could leave us alone for the moment.”

“Sir,” Idle replied, throwing a loose salute. “I’ll be around if you need me.”

“I appreciate that,” Maxi said quietly.

Idle nodded to Sam as he left the cabin. She returned the nod. Neither of them were on particularly good terms: Sam didn’t approve of Idle’s lax discipline or attitude. Idle didn’t like what he termed Sam’s ‘pole-up-the-arse’ syndrome. And yet, like so many other things, Maxi Yarrow had made it work.

How is this all going to work without me, he thought, running a hand over his shaven head.

“You looked oddly happy when we confirmed what happened in Nipville,” he said to Sam after a moment. At the mention, she smiled.

“I’m not happy,” she said, her grin belying it. “Not… not really. I just…” She let out a sigh. “God, it’s been so hard to do our jobs this last year. Men like Lovikov doing whatever they wanted, and now this.”

“Yes,” Maxi agreed. “This certainly gives us more than enough onus to go and give Lovikov the attention he seems to be begging for.”

“About damn time,” Sam said with a grin. “I shouldn’t be happy that he crossed the line, but I am, because now we get to take him down.”

“I hear that,” Maxi said, nodding.

“Two birds with one stone,” Sam continued. “Nipville gives us Lovikov and his lot being war criminals, so the rest of the Front won’t think twice when you take him out, and it gives us the opportunity to put the PHL and the UNAC in their place.”

Maxi felt his blood run cold. “What makes you say that?”

“You kidding?” Sam asked. “The UNAC and PHL have been using those mutineering pricks like a warrant to talk down to us, sanction us, kill our men, and all the while the split widens and we can’t keep people on our side of it because… well, it’s like Daniel said, isn’t it? How are we supposed to convince them they’re not being persecuted when they are?” She grinned, even wider than before. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be gloating about this, it’s petty as shit. But it’ll be so great to pin them to the wall for this.”

“Nobody’s pinning anybody to the wall for anything,” Maxi said evenly.

Sam’s grin disappeared in an instant. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard,” Maxi said tiredly. “We’ll deal with Lovikov and have a presence in Defiance. Deal with the big fish first. Then, once that’s sorted, I’ll lodge a formal complaint with the PHL. Cheerilee or Alex Reiner or someone will read it, God willing. Yael Ze’ev will most likely be demoted and sent to work with a different commander, somewhere quiet. Nipville will be hushed up. That will be the end of it.”

Sam blinked, as though not sure she was hearing correctly. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I were,” Maxi said tiredly. “But in a war of survival, even when other factions are acting to divide, we must act as the voice of reason and try to keep the peace.”

“You’re definitely joking,” Sam said flatly. “We have them nailed to the fucking wall over this, Dad.”

“And what do you think will happen if the people lose faith in the PHL?!” Maxi snapped. “What do you think happens to morale when the force Lyra Heartstrings pulled together is shown to be just as shitty as the rest of us?!”

“They’ve done it to us,” Sam said. “They’re putting you in the same boat as Lovikov. I’ve heard their rhetoric. They don’t think you’re any different than him.”

“They can think what they like,” Maxi said flatly, “so long as they let me do my job.”

“But they don’t,” Sam pointed out. “They’ve been friendly-firing us, arresting our people, threatening us in shitty letters and shittier propaganda for months. Wolfgang and Arthur, Dad.” She laughed, an almost desperate sound. “And now they cut us out of our own damn chain of command, went over our heads, and murdered civilians, and they have the government ready to help them brush it under the carpet -”

“Yes, and we’re going to have to take that and be the bigger people about it!” Maxi hissed, slamming a hand on his desk. Sam jumped, shocked at the display, and Maxi sighed. “I’m not pretending it’s just. Or anything approaching fair treatment of us, or even Yael Ze’ev. God knows, I don’t think that woman should be allowed to stay in the army after using flamethrowers in an area with civilians. I’m not going to lie and say that it’s what Heartstrings would have wanted, either. But it’s what they’ll do, because they think they have to. And for the sake of the war, for the sake of stability, we have to accept that.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Dad. We are not Batman, this is not The Dark Knight, and the PHL are not the heroes Gotham needs right now. You don’t have to play martyr for their sins.”

“Are we the heroes the world needs?” Maxi asked. “I’ve spent as much time cleaning up Lovikov or Grant’s messes as I have killing PER and Imperials these last eleven months. We are fighting a civil war, Sam. A nasty, bloody war. People can’t look to us to give them hope.”

“Oh, can’t they?!” Sam retorted. She pointed to the door. “The Cranes delivered their baby on the Purity. They’d be sunk or ponified without you. And you tell me you can’t give people hope? You built this town out of spit, prefabs, hard effort and the sweat of your brow. You helped build every palisade, every house, every crop. You know almost everyone by name. And you’re telling me the people out there who love you aren’t being given hope? I’ve seen men follow you into hopeless battles and impossible odds, and they believed in you just because you spoke to them. Is that not ‘giving them hope’, Dad?!”

“Well then,” Maxi said. “All valid points. But…” he relaxed slightly. “But what would you do, Sam?” His anger was gone. “What would you have me do?”

“I would have you nail them to the wall where they belong,” Sam replied. “I would have you do something.”

“And place ourselves against the PHL,” Maxi said. “People who have an army of PR representatives, more money, and more resources.”

“Hitler had PR, Dad,” Sam said scathingly. “George Bush, Tony Blair, Robert Mugabe, Kim Jong Il, Kim Jong Un, all these people had resources and PR. That doesn’t mean that they were right.”

“No, but it doesn’t mean it’s a battle we can win,” Maxi retorted. “We’ve more to lose on fighting it than not.”

“Oh, well, fine,” Sam said, shrugging and folding her arms. “Hey, while we’re giving up on battles we can’t win, shall we just shoot ourselves and have done with it?”

Maxi blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” Sam said, her tone turning desperate. “You walked into this fight knowing it wasn’t something we had that much of a chance on. Thanks to you, we’ve got more of one. Thanks to you, Daniel, and a hell of lot of good, dead friends, we’ve done more than anyone ever thought we might. But this is still a hard fight, Dad. A losing fight. We still, after all these years, don’t have anything on the Barrier. So many people think this fight is impossible.” She took a breath. “And you’re fighting anyway.”

Maxi blinked. “It’s… not evenly remotely the same thing.”

“No, it isn’t,” Sam replied. “Because I’m not asking you to destroy the Barrier, or kill some immortal super-horse-goddess with wings. I’m just asking you to stand up, and say ‘no’. ‘No, you can’t condemn us for actions you commit yourselves’. ‘No, you are not the moral high ground you claim to be’. ‘No, you cannot kill innocents and claim that you did it for the right reasons’. All the things we’ve been saying about Lovikov and his ilk for a year. All I want you to do is say to the world, ‘wrong is wrong’. That’s a fucking piece of cake compared to the Empire.”

Maxi scowled. “You know it won’t make a difference.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort,” Sam retorted, “but I know not saying anything won’t make a difference.”

“Even so,” Maxi replied. He sighed. “We have to be careful, Sam.”

“Careful,” Sam snorted. “Or what. They’ll burn us too?”

“Don’t push your luck,” Maxi replied, giving her a warning glare. “You don’t know what they could or could not do. There’s always been a lot of people in the PHL who aren’t happy about a large, non-government group like us.”

“And I’d share their concerns,” Sam replied, “if they weren’t so busy undermining you instead of helping you.”

“You can’t blame them,” Maxi replied.

“I can,” Sam replied. She paused, taking a breath. “We have to have a contingency.”

“A…” Maxi blinked. “A contingency?”

“For if they come for us,” Sam replied.

“You…” Maxi facepalmed. “If you write down any kind of ‘contingency’ to deal with the PHL, do you have any idea how suspicious that will look?!

“Just a basic one, Dad,” Sam said. “I was drawing up basic lines of defence in the ride here from Nipville, and I was thinking we could get some of Daniel’s guys to put up scramblers -”

Yarrow sighed. “Dragging Romero into this. Christ. Please tell me you haven’t contacted him about it.”

“It was in the APC, Dad,” Sam said, rolling her eyes, “I literally haven’t contacted anyone. We do still have a chain of command, after all.”

“Glad you remember that, at least,” Maxi said, chuckling weakly.

He paused, collecting his thoughts and trying to think of the best way to word this.

Damn her for inheriting her mother’s fire and brains, he thought, feeling a little guilty for it. He loved both those things about his daughter and her mother (God rest her soul), but damn it could be frustrating to argue with.

“Sam, if you don’t take anything else from this, listen to me now,” he finally said, speaking quietly. “If they find any sort of evidence that you’re preparing for a conflict with them, they will see it as provocation, and they will burn us.”

“What, so they burn civilians and then when we make plans to protect ourselves from them burning civilians they’d burn civilians to punish us for that?” Sam asked. “Are you really saying that?”

Maxi sighed. “Sam…”

“Are you honestly trying to convince me not to make plans by telling me that the PHL are the danger to our people that I think they are?” Sam said, her voice rising in volume.

“No,” Maxi yelled back, “I’m trying to tell you that you’ll make your own worst fears true if you always assume they’re real!”

“And I'm trying to tell you that we can't trust them!” Sam shouted. “You saw the photos from Nipville, dad! You heard what Luke said!”

“I don't like trusting them any more than you do!” Maxi yelled.

There was a long, empty pause as the two of them breathed heavily, panting from the exertion of shouting at each other.

“Of course I don’t like it,” Maxi said, quieter now. “Why would I. I’ve killed innocents myself, Sam. When I fought for a flag, I was responsible for crimes that got covered up. That’s why I can’t fight for a flag now. That’s why I have to fight for people, for a cause that unites people regardless of their flag. Because now, of all times, I cannot accept flags and men in suits telling me what they think is right. Because I know, deep down, that they’re not.”

“But if you understand…” Sam began.

“Who else is there in this, Sam?” Maxi asked her. “If we bring down the PHL, expose them, who else do we have left? Daniel has good ponies and people, but not enough. The Independents, like Luke? They’re small fry. They compartmentalise the whole war into protecting their little patch, and all they want is to be left alone!” He rolled his eyes. “And don’t get me started on the rogue HLF. Christ, I'd rather shoot myself and be done with it.”

“So… we’re going to do nothing, they get off Scot free, we probably don’t even have the support to take out the damn mutineers, and one day they’ll come for us and I can’t even begin planning how to protect us,” Sam said quietly. She shook her head, clearly disappointed. “Jesus, Dad. Never thought I’d see you turn into Neville Chamberlain.”

Before Maxi could reply to that, there was a knock at the door. Sam half-turned, and Maxi sighed.

“Come in,” he said evenly.

A man in fatigues entered. “Guards report a PHL van with another shipment coming in.”

Maxi gave Sam an expression, as if to say ‘there, see? Another reason to have the PHL on our side’. She just rolled her eyes.

“Let ‘em in,” Maxi said. “And then take a break, Fred, you look knackered.”

“Someone’s gotta build the concrete defence wall, boss,” Fred replied, smirking.

“Yeah, and it’ll get built,” Maxi replied, “but you’ve got a pregnant wife in your cabin. Go see to her.”

Fred nodded. “Cheers, Maxi. I’ll go do that now.”

He walked out, leaving Sam and Maxi alone.

“We’ll discuss this when you’ve had the chance to calm down,” Maxi finally said. “And I will discuss with Daniel what our response, if any, should be.”

“You know Daniel,” Sam said curtly. “He’ll say it’s all a distraction from the real fight.”

“And he’d be right,” Maxi retorted, walking out.

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam said, staying behind him, “but will any of us be alive to fight the real fight if the PHL have their way?”

The crates had been stacked in the main courtyard by some of the Reavers. Sam stood by the doorway of her father’s cabin as he walked towards the crates. As usual, they were marked with ATC symbols and covered in yellow and red markings.

“So?” Yarrow asked as he reached the crates. “Where are the delivery boys for us to thank?”

A forest-green pony with a big brown mustache and short, thick mane streaked with some green, like moss on a tree stepped up, flanked by two humans - a heavyset man who looked like he could bench-press a truck, and a woman with thick, bulging biceps.

“Dovetail?” Yarrow asked. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“Figured I’d slip you…” Dovetail said, and then theatrically looked around, a comically wide-eyed expression affected on his face. Then a stage whisper: “A little extra. The personal touch, y’understand.”

He then waved to Sam. “Hope this is going well for you, Sam! I’ll just consider this part of your vacation days,” he said, smirking.

“Dovetail,” Sam said, shaking her head. “You know what I said. I’m never coming back.”

Dovetail, as it happened, was one of the top engineers from PHL R&D in Montreal, a sprawling complex built in several old mills that’d lain abandoned for decades. He dabbled in virtually everything - power generation, weaponry, armour, vehicles, medicine. He and Sam, along with his not-quite-lover, not-quite partner Rachel Presley, had collaborated on reworking ATC tech, and creating the first PHL magitech. That, of course, had been before Sam had been rubbed the wrong way by the whole kit and caboodle.

“I do,” Dovetail said. “And besides, ‘vacation day’ is the most innocuous way I can put it.”

Sam resisted the urge to slap him. This had been a common thread back when they worked together.

Dovetail looked back to the PHL soldiers behind him. “Thompson, Scrimgeour? You don’t mention this, and there’s some of The Good Shit for you afterwards - I’m talking stuff brewed in Europe.”

“But Europe is…” Thompson started. “Ohhhhh. Oh, I get it. Offer accepted, Dovey.”

“Don’t call me Dovey,” Dovetail said, trying not to chuckle and not quite succeeding.

Yarrow waved at them, a grin on his face. “I’ll do you one better, Dovetail. I have some of that to spare. You, Thompson, and Scrimgeour get some, and you let them have some of your private reserve just so we’re all sure. They’ve earned it.”

There was a loud cheer from the surrounding Reavers, and Dovetail and his colleagues looked slightly awkward and embarrassed. Sam just grinned.

That’s Dad, she thought. Even the delivery boys get the same treatment.

Yarrow motioned to one of his people. “Adrianne, get these crates to our -”

Wherever he was going to get Adrianne to take the crates, Sam wouldn’t find out, because at that moment there was a sudden rush of air, light, heat, and noise, and the next thing Sam knew she was lying on her stomach, her back aching, and panic coursing through her veins. She looked up, and saw the wreckage of the courtyard… and bodies.

No… she thought. No, no, no!

She tried to stand, and only stumbled, falling back to the ground. She could feel herself blacking out.

Dad… she thought, as consciousness finally escaped her.

Ah, here we go.

So: we have Sam’s character arc, poor old Commander Cairn, and Luke having no idea what to do with himself. I wonder where this could be going…?

Seriously, this was a mega-fun chapter to write. I used to write arguments like Sam’s and Maxi’s back in the day and I would get effectively sabotaged by the setting. NOT ANYMORE MUDDERKUFFERS! Now there’s a real debate at hand, and I get to write two-sidedness. Well, sorta, anyway.