"Halfway through the patrol, buncha shit went off at once! I'm telling ya, they're dropping more and more mines in those trenches than before and not just on our side of the line. All over the fucking place! At complete random too!"

"Oh come on, Dance...you really think they'd mine their own turf? That'd be like us calling down artillery barrages on our own positions while spread eagle on the ground asking to get direct-impacted by a 105 right to the dick..."

"No need for 105s when a dozen or so 40s would tear just as much ass with no need for calling out coordinates! Why waste time on overstuffed comms when you've got me to fuck shit up on the spot. Gimmie a belt of HEIs and I'll have the place looking just as FUBAR as any of those Engineers on the ridge."

"Oh, so now you're a proponent for friendly fire now Buck? Jeez...just what we fuckin' needed...another mad Griffin with explosive ordinance running around the trenches..."

"Who the fuck said anything about running like a lil' bitch?! I fly, unlike you pansy, no-wing having ass bitches!"

I stood outside our Squad tent, hoof hovering near the flap to open it but just...caught up in the familiar feeling of my team's playful abusive banter. To hear them alive and well was reassuring enough as it was but to be near them once more, even after such a short time away, was a sense of relief I was not expecting to hit me so damn hard. They were extensions of my nuclear family no matter what anyone could say and I held them as close to my heart as I did mom. Even Buckbeak with his abrasive personality was a necessary part of my little family and could be passed off as your average, jerk of an older brother. They had my back in every way that mattered...which made the choice to include them or not in my predicament all the harder. To include them could mean big problems for everyone involved but also mean having a loyal-as-fuck support group right at my back for whatever came along. To leave them outta it would keep them more safe from any heat on my ass and (hopefully) prevent what had happened to the original Alpha Squad from happening to all of them as well...but it would also mean alienating them in a way that was not normal for our tight-knit group where there were no secrets. Gods what a horribly hard decision to make...

"Eh, fuck you boring ass plebs! I need to take a piss..."

Before I could even react, the tent flap was whipped up and I was face to face with a half-confused, half-bemused Buck Beak who grinned immediately and called everyone's attention towards me. There went any chance at a decision on the matter...

"Well hot fuckin' damn! I almost forgot you existed!" He exclaimed with a shiteating grin, throwing the tent flap wide so everyone else inside could get a glimpse of me standing there.

"Athena!! So great to have you back!"

"Heya, Crete! Good times with Minuette I hope?"

"Did ya get anything cool while in Manehatten?? What's the weather like so far North??"

I was...a tad overwhelmed to say the least. My thoughts were so fragmented and nerves so shot I could do nothing but smile unconvincingly and hug everyone distractedly, something they picked up on immediately. Not like I truly wanted to hide anything from them anyway...

"Hey...what's wrong hun...?" Hucks asked seriously, sitting me down at the metal table in the center of the tent while the rest took up places of comfort around me. "You look like you've been to the dark side of your mind again and you know how I feel about that..."

"Guys..." I mumbled, taking a deep breath and trying to force myself to be one with the present. "I think...I think I'm fucked."

"Heh, get comfy and we can arrange that for sure!" Buck snickered from his perch on one of the top bunks before Penny slapped his paw loud enough to make even me wince. "Ow! Fuck you too Penny!"

"Talk to us, Athena. What happened? Who do we have to murder?" Rain Dancer asked, yanking his Boulder 63 in its carbine configuration from where it sat leaned up against his bunk.

"Well...um..." I stammered before giving myself a hard slap of my own across the cheek to try and rouse me to my senses. "The General...he tried to apprehend me while on the train North."

"Excuse me...?" Was the general reply from all present, a sense of bewildered curiosity electrifying the air.

It was harder than it should have been to explain to them the bizarre circumstances surrounding my brush with the Ministry of Morale mares in that station but it felt amazing to get it off my chest; a muffling spell being graciously cast on the tent to give me the room to speak freely. I hadn't even mentioned it to mom for fear of driving her fear into full-out panic for my well-being so bottling it up as long as I had had been painful. Soon as I mentioned my daring escape from the cuffs, Huckleberry set to fussing about my still semi-bruised shoulders and injecting each with a mix of Medix and Extra Strength potion bringing about even more needed relief. The others just gaped in bewildered amazement at just how much what-the-fuck had just been said. Celestia only knew how much there was to go around...

"So...lemme get this shit straight." Buck grunted, toying with a 40mm HE round in his talons absentmindedly. "General McFatAss all of a sudden decides he's got a big enough dick to swing around with M.O.M to detain you for exactly the amount of time you were to be on leave despite that shit getting approved by the brass in Canterlot? What the actual fuck?!"

"Well, technically it was Colonel Horn who approves leave requests for our entire Brigade. Third, Fourth and Fifth Brigades now actually...Luna's teats that's a lot of soldiers to look after..." Penny chimed in from where she sat on the bunk under Buck.

"Oh shut the fuck up about the semantics would ya Penny?" Buck sighed, pelting her ass with an empty 40 shell from above. "Seriously, what in the fuck people? How did any of this shit fucking happen?"

"Do you really have to ask...?" Rain grunted, looking around at everyone with a knowing look. "What I wanna know is how in the hell did he find anything out? We planned everything out and covered our tracks best we could and Buck confirmed there wasn't a goddamned thing in the sky to watch us."

"Someone acknowledging my efforts? Hmph...took ya long enough..." Buck mumbled to himself.

"Shut it, Buck...seriously..." Hucks groaned, tossing up a Dragon-sized can of Cram for him to dig his big mouth into. "You do have a great point Dancer, how? How much does he know/suspect about you and how was he able to order a M.O.M hitsquad to apprehend you? There's something that isn't adding up here..."

"I don't know guys..." I whined, stuffing my hooves into my eyes hoping it would make me feel better. "I radioed Dodge to try and get a message off to Horn to contact me in person. For all I know Olive had the line actively being listened-in on by some M.O.M employee and is sending a bunch of his Shocktroopers to arrest and arraign me for a court marshal."

"Uh...for what fuckin' reason??" Penny growled angrily. "You got your leave approved by your CO, filed the appropriate paperwork and fucked off for three damn days just to see your mom, something you've done before more than once!"

"Yeah well technically I resisted arrest. He can trump up all the charges he wants and if I wanted to dispute that I would need to undergo a mind rape anyway so they can view the memories particular to the case in court and who knows what sort of shit he could do to tamper with the trial so my experiences with Zecuro would be revealed. At the very least the memories of knocking those M.O.M employees the fuck out."

"Not if we beat him to the punch and get him with misuse of government resources and employees he technically has no jurisdiction over."

"Not for nothing Penny but I have some serious fucking doubts about that one... I mean, they swooped in and scooped up Alpha outta the blue like their perfect service record never even existed. You really think we can outwit and out maneuver that fat fuck and the resources he has at his disposal?"

"Well I don't know!" She whined, sagging back on the cot with a defeated look. "We just can't sit around waiting for Athena and us to get caught up in this shitstorm!"

"An' wha' shitstorm y'all be caught in this time might Ah ask?"

We all whirled around to face the doorway to our tent where Colonel Horn stood with an unlit cigar in his mouth and a satchel dangling from his side with a big welcoming grin on his wrinkling face. It was a bit of a shock that none of us noticed he had walked in, especially me who was seated directly across from the entrance flap but given the conversation at hoof...it wasn't too much of a surprise. He was in as casual of dress as someone of his station was permitted to be with his brown uniform unbuttoned and untucked from his trousers and his dress cap plopped lazily onto his greying mane.

"Officer on deck!" I barked out of pure instinct, bolting to my hooves at attention with a firm salute in unison with my companions.

"Aw common y'all..." He chuckled, nodding casually at all of us and plopping the satchel on the table with the sound of bottles clinking together. "At fuckin' ease...this here's ah social call."

We all relaxed as best we could with such high-strung nerves from the topic of conversation and hesitantly resumed our earlier positions, Buck having not even bothered to hop down from his bunk. Meanwhile, the Colonel pulled up a chair and began emptying his satchel which contained six bottles of his favorite Apple Jack Whiskey, the famous 'Black Label' variety with its fancy wax-sealed cork.

"Thought Ah might come drop in on mah numbah one Veterans!" He chuckled, pushing the bottles towards each of us that wanted one. "Y'all been hard at work 'n Ah wanted tah congratulate y'all on ah damn fine job out there."

As the others graciously snatched up the whiskey, excluding Hucks and I, the Colonel gave me a knowing look that said it all. He was here specifically because of my message which meant Dodge had pulled through for me yet again in a quick and concise manner. Next time I saw him and had the chance, I was gonna reward him with at least a good long kiss on the lips and maybe a bit more. He wasn't a bad looking guy after all...

"Goddamn, Colonel!" Penny gasped after taking a long swig at her bottle. "You've hyped up the Black Label for so long I thought you must be joking but...holy shit!"

"Heh heh, tha' good eh?" He chuckled heartily, pulling out a large flip lighter from his shirt pocket and lighting his stogie. "Yeah, tha' there is th' best damned whiskey on th' market! Ol' Jackie might have left th' company tah focus on her Ministry duties but her family sure knows how tah distill ah damned fine whiskey. Best thing tah come outta PonyVille since the Ministry Mares themselves!"

"And Athena of course!" Huckleberry chimed in, patting me on the back with a proud grin. "Can't forget she and her mom are natives too!"

"Ah, yer right! Yew eva seen th' Sweet Apple Acres Distillery, Crete? Nevah had th' time tah tour tha' 'lil town but Ah've seen pictures of it in plenty o' pamphlets that came wit' th' crates."

I shook my head sheepishly, grateful for the temporary distraction from the earlier conversation if only for a few moments and replied, "No, Sir I'm afraid not. I lived on the complete opposite side of town and even then Sweet Apple Acres was a decent ways outside of town behind fencing and gates to ward off thieves. The Ministry Mares moved away from PonyVille when I was like five or six so I never saw much of them anyway, not like I would even remember them all that that well since the world was a much different place back then."

"Ah...well, damned shame Ah suhpose." He chuckled, taking a long drag of his cigar before blowing the cloud of smoke thankfully upwards towards the air vents though the tent stank of tobacco all the same. "Funny tah think ah apple farm be makin' ah sour mash whiskey from corn, wheat 'n barley but then again, they do make ah hella fine hard cider too. Guess havin' such ah recognizable face 'n name fer yer product is ah great opportunity tah expand th' brand."

"Yeah, heh..." I laughed hesitantly as everyone else happily took a few more swings of their bottles before popping the corks back in. "I mean, it worked for Sparkle-Cola after all."

"Uh-uh!" Rain said excitedly, our resident Sparkleaddict in the making. "Minister Twilight only gave permission to use her name and likeness because the Ministry expressed interest in a major sponsorship as a recruitment tactic since the Ministry of War and Morale were taking all the workforce."

"Hey, don' ferget th' farms 'n factories!" Horn chimed in thoughtfully. "Lots o' private enterprise goin' on in this country. ArmsTech alone fields over half ah million employees, AidWorks around th' same number... That's a large chunk 'o th' workforce snatched up 'n workin' includin' Unicorns since y'alls horns are mighty fine fer finnicky work."

"Don't I know it!" Huckleberry laughed with a hint of strain in her voice. "They wouldn't stop heckling me in college. Couldn't go to a single event or walk onto campus without getting assaulted by recruiters from every fucking major company asking if I ever 'thought about putting that horn to good use, for the greater good of course.' Gods I hated that fucking slogan..."

"Heh, StableTec I take it?" I grimaced knowingly as I too had experienced that same sort of overwhelming influence from horn hungry factories busting their asses to out-produce the others. "Nothing but vying to be the most profitable company in the world at whatever cost."

"Oh shut up already..." Buck groaned, plugging his ears with his talons and rolling his eyes. "Enough about the shit you abracadabra types have to put up with, there's great shit to drink so let's shut up and take a fuckin' shot shall we?"

It didn't take much to prompt Penny to pull out her secret stash of shot glasses and slap them down on the table, with one hurled up at Buck Beak, and for them to be full to the brim. There were plenty of shots to go around and Hucks and I both acknowledged we owed the Colonel at least one honorary shot, if for the sake of the expensive liquor. In unison we put the shots into the frogs of our hooves (Buck balancing on the palm of his hand), crossed our free leg over the other and popped the shot glasses into our open mouths. We had practiced this one especially for a contest at a local bar in Las Pegasus and since then it had become a tradition, each glass landing perfectly into place and the fiery liquid gulped down in one go before spitting the glasses onto the table. The Colonel was so enthralled with the performance he jokingly commanded we perform it again for 'formal inspections', something we obliged to his delight.

"Tha's th' fuckin' best thang Ah ain't never seen!" He laughed heartily as I blinked out tears and tried my best not to cough or wretch at the particularly strong liquor. "Ah won't say ah damn word abou' it tah nopony heh heh."

Buck held his bottle up to the light and grunted in frustration at how little the bottle seemed to hold as well as how much of it was already gone. Penny similarly eyed her bottle with disappointment but the Colonel grinned reassuringly, pushing the extra two bottles towards them.

"Don't ya worry Penny 'n Buck, Ah brought y'all an extra bottle tah hide in yer hooflocker. Ain't no need tah pilfer from mah private stash like last time. Consider it swept under th' rug."

The two of them blushed sheepishly and thanked him for his generosity while he just simply chuckled and took a shot himself, cigar never leaving his mouth which was rather impressive. I was grateful for his rather intimate connection with us being his self-professed favorite Squad in the Corps for having both an impressive record and an extremely tight-knit sense of family with one another, something he said reminded him of his own family. He had thought of Penny and Buck's penchant for drinking and didn't even hint at any intention to push a bottle towards Hucks and I who were rather anti-alcohol and only drank together rarely and in private. There were plenty of drugs, booze and smokes in camp and it would have been dumb to assume otherwise. Everyone had a vice they needed fulfilled to get by day by day down here.

"So...guess y'all might be wonderin' why Ah'm here all of sudden." He said in a more serious tone after a few minutes of pleasant, idle conversation bringing a chill into my spine once more.

"Oh? So this isn't just a pleasant social call?" Rain asked with a bit of hesitation, eying his bottle of whiskey as if it were there to possibly interrogate him.

"Ain't here fer anythin' yew did, Dancer." The Colonel laughed reassuringly after another drag on the cigar. "Colonel Crete knows exactly why."

All eyes turned to me and I bit my lip nervously before replying, "Well...I sent Specialist Dodge, excuse me...Warrant Officer Dodge, a frantic message soon as I got here from off the train asking the Colonel to meet with me ASAP to discuss what I was telling you guys about before he showed up."

"Oh?" He replied curiously, leaning forward in his seat with an intense stare of interest. "Well don' leave meh in th' only one in th' dark, Crete. What's so important tha' ya went th' roundabout way 'o contacting meh?"

Yet again I found myself explaining the events surrounding my attempted apprehension placing extra emphasis on the fact the M.O.M employee had all but given away who had ordered them to detain me. He sat listening in silence the entire time I explained, resting his head on his hooves as he continued to stare intently at me while I spoke hardly blinking or...really showing any sort of perceivable emotion. His poker face was as good as chiseled stone and I felt could learn a lot from him on how to hide emotions as well as he did when he tried.

When I finished, he was silent for several moments before asking, "Anyone else know abou' this?"

"Absolutely not, Sir." I replied firmly. "And the M.O.M employee was scared so shitless I know she followed my command to erase the memories of the other two and probably herself if such a thing is possible. Didn't even tell my mom about what happened at the station."

"Hmm..." He hummed silently, his brow furrowed in intense thought while the rest of the tent was entirely silent as everyone else stared in suspense between myself and the Colonel. "This is...well...not gonna lie to y'all, this here is th' most concernin' news Ah've heard in ah good while...they already nabbed th' original Alpha Squad and Ah'll be damned if it happens again on mah watch. Crete? Ah think yew did th' right thang. Ain't ah pretty thang ya did 'er ah by th' books one but wha' he did was illegal. Reassignin' people who piss yew off tah th' Zulu Campaign is one thang, goin' off th' books 'n not consultin' th' Wartime Council on detainin' ah Lieutenant Colonel is somethin' entirely different. There's rules 'n procedures fer such ah big case."

"What ya gonna do, Sir?" Buck asked, his usually loud voice sounding weirdly soft in the moment.

"Fer th' moment? Nothin'." He replied with a long, tired sigh. "There's ah lotta shit General Olive is up tah tha' is goin' well 'n above th' call o' duty. Ah'm not gonna lie to y'all...he ain't right in th' head. Bein' an Old Boy has gone tah his head and he ain't got enough oversight like he should down here."

"Yeah, no shit..." Penny growled quietly. "Uh, Sir."

"At ease, Penny." He responded with another sigh. "Ah need tah go tah Canterlot 'n have ah meeting wit' th' Actin' Wartime Council face tah face. Operation: Downsize wit' th' intent 'o killin' a buncha kids, blatant favoritism wit' promotions 'n now this? He's oversteppin' his rank 'n responsibilities and Ah betcha he ain't filin' paperwork correctly tah Command."

"FINALLY!" Buck laughed in triumph, punching a fist into the air and hitting the roof of the tent causing it to ripple.

"Wha' ya mean, Sergeant?" Horn asked, eying him in his bunk with a mixture of his earlier concern tempered by amusement.

"Well finally someone fuckin' important called him out on his shit!" He replied, looking down at all of us as if he had won a good round of poker and wanted to do a victory lap. "He keeps sending us in to take the brunt of the abuse then the fuckin' Tin Heads swoop in from behind to mop up the rest after the bulk of the dying is over! I'm fucking sick of seeing good Rangers getting fucked up by heavy ordinance that their precious fucking Power Armor can tank a hell of a lot better than M-CAP models can! But nooooo! He's gotta play favorites so he can have plenty of shiny Tin Heads on display come parade season! And what about the goddamned armored vehicles I've heard about outta the Greifenländer?! When the fuck are we gonna get some fucking APCs and tanks down here??"

"Ah hear ya loud 'n clear, Sergeant..." Horn groaned, raising his hoof to shut him down. "Believe meh...Ah ain't happy about th' tactics or th' body counts tha' go through mah office every day...'n as fer them fancy Gryphon machines, least I can say is Ah heard we're finally gonna get ah shipment sometime in th' next couple 'o weeks. Dunno what or how many but least it's somethin'."

"Seriously?" We all seemed to gasp in unison, the idea of working with heavily armored mechanically powered machines rather appealing after years of hoofing it around the Badlands.

"Aye." He chuckled, seemingly happy for the change in the general mood of the tent. "Also heard th' Zulu Campaign got themselves some fancy new flyin' machines too!"

"What, a new model of Sky Chariot or something?" Buck asked with more interest than I had expected although he had always taken pride in his Griffin heritage which had its own heritage with the Gryphons they descended from.

"Nah, somethin' totally new 'n crazy th' Ministry 'o War brewed up. Called 'em Vertibirds in th' last meetin' or somethin'...dunno much Ah'm afraid, Buck. Just tha' they was fast, carried sum good firepowa 'n removed th' need fer Pegusi tah make her fly."

"Damn...leave it to the Gryphons to machine their way around problems..." Hucks mused, popping a mouthful of mixed nuts from an MRE. "Remember the early 'tanks' the M.O.W was pushing like eight years ago?"

"How could Ah ferget?" Horn laughed, puffs of smoke coming out of his nose as he did. "Big ol' hunks of riveted steel pushed by eight 'er so ponies like some sorta medieval siege towa? Sure them bitches brought some big guns tah th' battlefield but they were just too heavy fer even th' strongest 'o bucks tah push fer long."

"And then swoop in the big birds to make shit to push them along for you little ponies." Buck laughed gleefully, seemingly forgetting he wasn't even a citizen of Griffinstone and had been born in Cloudsdale rather than Talin or Nachtigall.

"Buck, you aren't even a fuckin' Gryphon so why the fuck you acting like you had a part in all that shit?" Penny asked pointedly, getting a laugh out of everyone else while he ruffled up angrily at her.

"Griffin, Gryphon, the fuck's the difference? I'm still a fucking foot and a half taller than any of you, including Athena!"

"Well, she's gotta good point though." Colonel Horn chuckled, tapping his stogie with a hoof to knock off the ashes. "Yew ain't ah Gryphon. Them mean bastards got least ah head 'er two on ya 'n at least two hundred pounds 'o solid muscle. 'Sides, last Ah remember, yer a full blooded Equestrian like th' rest 'o us."

He gritted his beak in anger and silently hopped down from off his bunk, brushing past all of us and out the tent saying something about needing to take a piss leaving us wondering if we had gone too far in poking holes in his pride.

"Struck ah nerve Ah see..." The Colonel sighed, standing up and collecting his cap from the table. "Well Ah ain't in th' business 'o babyin' ponies. Or birds fer tha' matter... Well, Ah should get goin' y'all. There's a lotta shit tha' needs doin' back at HQ and Ah gotta make travel plans tah Canterlot ASAP."

"Sorry to keep you a bit longer Sir but...what about Athena?" Hucks asked, a question parroted by Penny and Rain as well.

"Wha' about her?" He asked. "Concerned Olive'll try tah do somethin' while Ah'm away?"

"Uhhh...yeah?" Hucks huffed indignantly, looking at me with concern. "He's already tried to arrest her once, who the fuck's to say he won't try that again? Especially with you out of the way to even try and veto it?"

"Yew said yerself he seems like he just wanted tah keep ya close by where he can keep an eye on ya." He responded bluntly, putting on a pair of aviators hanging from his shirt pocket. "Keep yer nose clean down here and he won't have ah reason tah detain ya. Yer ah Lieutenant Colonel and there ain't no paperwork in th' pipeline abou' suspicions of yew bein' some sorta deviant worthy o' ah investigation involving th' Ministry 'o Morale. Ah had little say in th' outcome 'o Major Blitz 'n the rest o' Alpha's arrest but Ah was still informed cause they were mah soldiers."

"So what are you saying, he bribed or blackmailed M.O.M employees into doing this off the record or something?" Rain asked bringing up an interesting possibility.

"No...but tha' ain't ah bad theory as well. Might be, might not but we ain't th' ones tah speculate. That there's fer the Council tah look into while y'all focus on bein' damned fine soldiers! Now, Ah'll hit th' road immediately tah make sure he ain't got time tah fabricate no stories. And wit' tha' Holotape Athena gave meh, Ah'll have ample evidence fer mah case wit' th' Council. Speakin' o' which, can Ah have all y'all's Holotapes as well? Th' more Ah bring wit' meh, th' stronger ah counter argument tah fabrication Ah have."

It took everyone a few minutes of scrounging around their gear and footlockers to collect all the little orange and yellow devices. Buck's was nowhere to be found and since he had yet to return from his angry pee break, the Colonel just sighed and said that four out of five was decent enough to work with. I reminded him about the specific date written on the tapes and the high likelihood that they were rigged to remotely alert the General if they were accessed too early. He paused to thank me for the reminder before straightening his tie and semi-adjust his uniform, scooping up his satchel and leaving with a hearty salute of solidarity towards us. Everypony was silent for quite some time, all of us seemingly processing what had transpired. If the Colonel was that confident I would be safe from harm now that I was back on duty, I trusted him like I had learned to time and time again. At the very least, I would be extra careful to allay any potential indicators of what I was up to when it came to Zecuro. There was no reason to spoon-feed incriminating evidence in the event he was building a case against me.

"That...was something else." Dancer mumbled after awhile, glancing around and blinking a bit as if trying to clear his thoughts. "Anyone else still uneasy about all this shit?"

"I am for sure..." I sighed back, standing up and stretching while reaching for some of Hucks' mixed nuts to try and get the whiskey taste off my tongue. "But if he says so, I'll trust him. Just continue business as normal and we'll figure shit out as we go along like we always have. Just gotta pray we can do shit right until the Colonel is back from Canterlot with something."

"Pray to who?" Penny scoffed. "Retiree Celestia? Clueless in Chief Luna? Please..."

"Then how about Krie then?"

I turned to see Buck walking back into the tent with his usual smug shiteating grin seemingly over his hurt little ego.

"The Gryphon God of War...?" Dancer asked incredulously. "Seriously...?"

"What?" He snapped, proudly holding out a little pendant with the same straight lined runic language I had seen on Peter's sword earlier carved into what looked like cast iron. "I'm descended from Gryphons aren't I? That should be enough to get me a pass at getting in on a fuckin' God of War I'd think! Besides, it's not like there's anything sayin' I can't now is there?"

I shrugged my shoulders as did Hucks and Penny while Dancer just rolled his eyes and went back to his bunk with his LMG in hoof and the automatic barrel conversion. There really wasn't anything to say and he grunted in victory as he stuffed the pendant down his shirt and flapped his wings to launch himself back up to his bunk. The gust of air was enough to send our pile of nuts flying everywhere as well as some of the loose retaining pins from Dancer's conversion much to his loud annoyance. While Hucks went to help find the missing pins, I decided to calm my nerves some more with some loving TLC on my own rifle which was due for a once-over after some time in the sand and dirt. Not like it really needed it but it was always good to stay in the habit no matter the make or model.

I climbed up into my own bunk, laying my AMR across my lap with the same small sense of giddiness that always gripped me from seeing my baby. The overall length was well over five feet, three and a half with the barrel recessed into the frame for stowage and shared features with its predecessor in design, the Barnette APR-S2 chambered in .50 Big Mac. In truth, they were the same rifle with the 25 only being a larger version of the same design just with a longer muzzle brake, a smaller magazine capacity and the ability to recess most of the barrel in the frame of the gun. The short-recoil, rotating bolt semi-automatic action was simple, sturdy and well machined from Celestium parts allowing for thousands of rounds to go downrange before I had to think about wear on any of the internals. Carbon fiber polymers formed the parts that didn't technically need to be made of metal keeping her weight down to a carriable level and the buttstock was made from a shaped FlexiMesh pad similar to those padding my armor. This, combined with the efficient muzzle brake, the reciprocating barrel and recoil dampeners, made for a comfortable shoot despite the 75,000 Joules of muzzle energy. Tack on the vibrant array of 25x102mm ammunition I was afforded and I became something of a one-mare tank. The same term could be used to refer to a Tin Head but then again, I rarely saw one who could nail a Scorpio or Rhynox in a two-inch grouping at 2,000 meters.

"Mind if I join you?" Hucks asked, breaking me out of my trance with her gorgeous purple face with her own rifle floating at her side.

"Heh, by all means hun." I replied with a grateful sigh of relief. "Might be a bit cramped though."

"Nah..." She hummed, hopping up next to me and dragging the table right up next to us for holding all the parts of our guns.

"Huh...well, that solves some issues I guess." I laughed, scooching as far over as I could to make room for her to do her own work. "Radical needs some attention I take it?"

"No more than your baby needs it. Barnette sure builds these fuckers to last don't they?"

"Well that just seems to be a Mareseillian thing in general. They've got a few other gun manufacturers down there like Fabrique Nationale that churn out quality products just like Barnette but none of them have a military contract from us. Did the Colonel ever tell you about his time fighting in the Ponyrenees during the attempted annexation of '58?"

Her eyes went wide with wonder and curiosity as she exclaimed, "Whaaaa? No! I always heard he was part of the tail-end of the annexation of the Crystal Empire and the whole Great Northern War, bur I never heard he took part down South too!"

"Yep! Apparently he got to see the famous Mareseillian Commandos for himself and they're just as badass as the stories say they are. COM units picked off dozens of officers and key soldiers at a time with the APR-1s, which is what made us originally set up a contract with Barnette to begin with. Precision bolt rifles chambered in .50 Big Mac fired from any and all blind spots in the mountains really taught us a lesson in humility..."

"Hmph...not enough it seems..." She grunted irritably, the upper assembly already field stripped on her M-RAD rifle. "We're still here fighting and dying just as much as the last decade over national pride. I long for those easier conflicts of yesteryear where everything made more sense, and the fucking engagement only lasted a year or two at most with a decisive outcome."

"Yeah...war was a lot simpler back then wasn't it?" I mused thoughtfully, my own rifle becoming its core components without even noticing my magic at work taking it apart.

She nodded silently and we focused on our respective weapons for the next few minutes. Cleaning tools were stored under the recoil pads and we shared a communal rag and bottle of gun oil in a pleasurable silence. The Celestium parts showed barely any wear on them even after a hundred or so HEI rounds, and the negligible amounts of grime and sand were brushed out easily with the small brass comb. Plunging the bore with a cleaning rod and cotton swabs came away almost as white as they had been going in. Indeed, the most 'dirty' place on my weapon was the six-port muzzle brake which both saw a lot of action, and was the most exposed to the elements of all the parts. With such a simple construction, I ran out of things to clean and oil after a short time and soon, we were reassembling our weapons with enough practiced ease to do it blindfolded at this point. Glancing up, I noticed everyone seemed to have take our example and were servicing their own weapons with cots littered with disassembled parts and tools; the air rank with the wonderful scent of gun oil and a faint whiff of burnt powder.

"What are you gonna do now?" Hucks asked quietly after setting her rifle beside mine against the frame of the bunks. "Technically speaking, Alpha is awaiting further orders so we are camp-bound for the foreseeable future."

"Well...that is a good question." I replied, looking around the tent and feeling unsure of what to do next. "Galley still open for dinner? They don't serve shit on the train and I'm kinda super fucking hungry..."

"Should be, they don't stop dinner entrées till like nine-something these days. We all ate an hour ago but I'd be happy to come with you and see if they got any more packs of these nuts on hoof."

"I mean, I won't say...no..." I replied, just as my PipBuck started beeping softly on my leg with a small red light on the corner of the screen blinking slowly. "Uh...hold on."

I fumbled a bit with the small device to detach the EarBloom from the housing and slip it into my ear to answer the radio call. Only a few knew this particular channel and it was an equal guess who it might be, although I hoped it wasn't Zecuro so soon after everything that had already happened. I needed to be on good behavior for at least a few days and settle back into the routine of the South before I attempted anything too dangerous.

"Crete here. I just got back so please don't ask too much of me right outta the gate alright?"

"Heyyyy! Looks like the rumors were true." Came the cheerful voice of none other than Dark Blaze. "Good to have ya back amongst the dead ponies walking!"

"Oh, well hello to you too, Blaze. Surprised to hear from you to be honest...is it something urgent?"

"I mean, if you wanna postpone taking a look at that nifty shit you tagged for me last week, then by all means that's your call Colonel." He laughed, the background noise in his transmission making it sound like he were striding through camp.

"Oh...oh!" I gasped softly, suddenly remembering shooting the Zeeb in question with his fancy new stealth armor. "Hell no I don't wanna wait! I mean, I wanna snag some dinner, but tell me where and when and I'll be right over!"

There came a loud shout from outside our tent and, being the only one standing, I poked my head out to see Blaze standing on the dusty path in front, hitched up to his large cart. At one time it had been an armored Sky Carriage, but since had been converted into a mobile workshop loaded down with hundreds of tools meant for repairing and modifying weapons from a standard-issue pistol all the way up to the massive 150mm artillery guns. Whole sections of the thick steel walls folded down to reveal various power tools like saws, rotary cutters, a lathe, rivet guns and over a dozen other heavy tools, allowing for quick, on-the-spot work for any GI who wanted something personalized and had some spending cash to blow. Inside lay a treasure trove of blueprints, schematics, spare parts and scrap metal on organized shelves lining the walls with several assorted small pillows and toys dedicated to his pet cat Shiloh who almost never left his side.

"How's about right now?" He beamed with a laugh. "Was in the area anyway tweaking 8th Company's new batch of M14/16s, so I thought why not stop by?"

"Heh...well, can't say I blame you for that logic, but I'm kinda fuckin' starving my guy..." I replied with a sheepish laugh of my own. "Can I like...meet you up at your workshop or something?"

"Sure! Butttt...I've got some good MREs stashed up there if you're willing to compromise. You can eat while we take the damn thing apart! Not a bad deal in my book."

I glanced behind me at Hucks who had poked her head out of the tent as well out of curiosity, she giving a friendly wave towards Blaze who returned it with a hearty salute. I gave her a nod of acknowledgement while I brooded over his proposition. Working while I ate was a rare indulgence outside of filing boring-ass paperwork in my officer's tent, so getting to eat while Dark Blaze peeled apart a new set of Zebra combat armor was a proposition I couldn't say no to. Long as the M in the MRE was any good of course...

"What kinda food we talkin' about...?" I asked curiously, feeling a hunger pain stab me in the gut as if on-cue.

"Hmm...like rice and beans, eggplant steak and noodles, Appleloosa chili...fuck, I can't remember. Shiloh? You mind getting me that ledger from the back?"

He glanced over his shoulder at his faithful orange tabby who meowed softly from where it sat eying him from one of the small forward-facing windows of the Sky Carriage. He had to plead a few more times before the cat reluctantly stood up from its bed, stretched, and disappeared from view into the bowels of his on-board library. A few moments later, he reappeared in the window with a manila folder in his mouth before daintily hopping down onto the tongue of the harness and up onto Blaze's back. His finely tuned mechanical wings snagged the file from the cat's jaws in exchange for a treat from a little pouch at his hip, before Shiloh retreated back into the comfort of the Carriage.

"Damn! You've got him fetching shit for you now!" I exclaimed with a grin knowing his cat was his pride and joy. "Sure you aren't related to Fluttershy?"

"What, with her talent for talking to Feral species you mean?" He asked, glancing up from the papers in his hooves. "Hardly...Shiloh and I are just well connected to each other is all. If I tried that with any other cat, I have just as much chance of getting scratched as getting completely ignored. Anyway, we've got rice and beans, eggplant steak and noodles, Appleloosa chili, some meat-based ones for the non-ponies in the Brigade, spaghetti in red or white sauce, cheese tortellini in red sauce and some Moskipone and Mareseillian shit I can't pronounce. Any of those strike your fancy at all?"

"A few, but...I gotta ask, why do you have so many fucking MREs?" I asked, glancing over him for any signs that he might be overeating. "You've got like half the menu in the galley on there, and seem to have it in bulk so what gives?"

"Eh, ever since I was promoted to Mastersmith, I've had to help the others sharing that rank keep the damn Corps running down here since that stupid argument between Rarity and Applejack keeps getting ping-ponged around in Canterlot. Since I have my hooves in so many things at once already, they stuck me with the marginally easier task of doling out food to those in the Ember Brigade. There's other responsibilities too of course, but the food and supply requisitions are now in my job description. It ain't so bad a gig since all I really need to do is inspect the crates shipped up to us once a week, and set my Apprentices to get them sent where they need to go. Long as all the paperwork is in order, it all goes pretty smoothly up here for us, all things considered heh..."

"Jeez...it's a miracle to me sometimes at how you guys are able to function without any of the same organization structure the rest of us have."

"Believe me, I feel the same way..." He laughed bitterly before stuffing the papers back in the file and tossing it onto the large cushioned seat at the front of the Carriage, nodding towards Shiloh to put it away. "So, what say ye? Care to join me?"

I looked again at Hucks who smiled encouragingly and waved a hoof in his direction saying, "Go on! We'll hold down the fort while you're gone. If anyone asks where you went, we'll just say you had a meeting with a Mastersmith about in-field logistics or some shit."

"Guess that settles it then." I laughed, looking back at Blaze who grinned back with glee. "Lead the way my good sir!"

"Yeesh...you guys really are still scrounging for supplies aren't you?" I muttered to him as we came to the top of the mountain pass and into the patchwork camp dedicated to the Engineers of the Southern Front.

"We manage well enough, all things considered." He replied with a sigh. "But yeah...things could be better at Camp Grease. I've got supply issues longer than my tail, requisition orders from every single damn Company and Platoon on-site, and half the number of able-bodied mechanics I need to fulfill them all... That's not even bringing up missing tools and equipment for some of the jobs they want us to do, the head counts needed to run the artillery...it's a total blind mess, lemme tell ya."

Located up and beyond the valley walls, defended by the higher peaks of the Ember Mountains, rested the stallions and mares who were vital to the war effort by maintaining everything that moved that wasn't organic. Amidst the surplus M.O.W, M.O.I and M.O.P tents set up in no particular order were dozens of metric tons of spare parts, artillery shells, wagons and carts. There was little rhyme or reason to be found here, and whereas the main camp below felt like kind of like an organized military frat house, this place was as go-with-the-flow as they came. The air was alive with power tools, music blaring from small radios and a general uproar of brawly mechanics having fun and yelling instructions to each other while working night and day to keep the Army going. Rows of damaged Power Armor sat under tarps awaiting their turn in various workspaces across the camp, while large makeshift tents housed mechanical cranes and winches for servicing all manner of large and complicated machines; including several of the infamous Greifenländer armored combat vehicles which was...unexpected to say the least.

"Hey, hold the fuck up." I said, holding up a hoof to stop him before pointing to the closest of these large maintenance tents. "Since when the hell did we have those down here??"

He laughed bitterly and kept moving forward sighing, "Ain't what you think, Athena... Those are ones airlifted in for maintenance from Camp Oil out East since they're backlogged to all hell over there."

"Well then why the fuck are they so overstuffed then?" I replied indignantly as we stopped in front of his tent, a M.O.I pavilion tent that had been stained black by grease and other stains.

"Simple." He responded with another sigh, unhitching himself from his cart and waiting for Shiloh to hop onto his back before leading me inside. "They're ones sent back from the Zulu Campaign. Zeebs debuted a new type of uber rifle that from what I've heard gives your AMR a run for its money and then some."

"Oh...?" I said with a bit of hesitation as I hated the thought of my baby getting outclassed by the enemy.

"Not a lot to tell ya I'm afraid..." He sighed, moving to clear a nearby table of stacks of paper and graphite pencils. "Most I've heard is they shoot tungsten darts or hypercharged Crystal shards at insane speeds, punching holes in even the thickest armor. All the APCs and the two tanks you see here got hit hard by some, and...lemme tell ya. The damage from those hits? Hoooooboy..."

"Seems like shit the Greifenländer should be handling, not you guys all the way down here as far flung as you can get from the Empire. I mean for fuck's sake, they share a fucking border with each other, and they built these machines for us. You'd think they'd just let you guys in to get their creations back in the fight ASAP."

"The Greifenländer said they're ours, not theirs to repair, and refused to allow them over the Drachenfels Mountains." He replied, rolling his eyes with a grunt. "The Underkingdom of the Dwem refused to allow us passage under the Drachenfels saying they were a staunchly isolationist nation despite working with the Gryphons and defending their own borders from the Empire. Gotta remember...these guys allied with us right after we first annexed the Crystal Empire and renamed it a Duchy because the term 'Empire' was seen as too Zebrican. They got to negotiate how they participated in the War as they're on a different Continent, and ordering them to do shit from a distance would be hard to enforce, not without starting a war with them too. Compared to places like Saddle Arabia, Espania, and the Crystal Empire, the only place that really got the best deal aside from the Gryphons was Mareseilles."

"Sweet Celestia...fuckin' birds, amirite?"

"Oh yeah, fuck 'em." He chuckled bitterly, pulling up a chair for me at his cluttered dining table against the far wall of the circular tent. "But I gotta hand it to them. They sure know how to make some damned fine machines that beat Earth Pony tech nine times outta ten. I mean, you gotta remember they're the ones who made the first guns and made the internal combustion engine, not us."

"What about the steam engine? Wasn't that us?"

"Nah, Kingdom of Griffinstone are the first ones to make them. Things we came first in though? The discovery of Nexus Crystals. And that of course lead to the discovery of Crystalline Fusion which beats out both steam and internal combustion by a landslide, but that was only within the last ten-ish years or so. Even then though, the implementation of CF technology has been mind-bogglingly slow across the entire country! Got coal-fired power plants all over the place still providing like...what, 85-ish percent of the country's power supply? We've got those nifty solar arrays that convert sun magic into electricity and CF tech both rearing to go but...ugh...damn Earth Ponies have to be in charge thinking their old tech is the best route."

"Heh, what? You saying Unicorns need to be in charge again to solve the energy crisis?"

"Honestly, sure. At this point, why the fuck not? The Ministry of Arcane Science has really churned out some nifty tech in the last couple decades but with Earths making up a majority of the population, their grip over industry and government is just too strong. Once upon a time I might have suggested Pegasi solve the crisis by churning out a shit ton of storm clouds and stomping out lighting into big old batteries or something but...well..."

"Equestria relied too much on you guys in the early years without thinking about the enemy's airpower and capability."

"Heh...that's a hell of a lot nicer way of saying we got fed into the Meat Grinder first. Yeah... Barely enough of us left to maintain the weather in the country and serve in the Airborne Corps. Had to go out of our way to improve relations with the Equestrian Griffins and Griffinstone just to make up for recruitment shortages... And to think all of this shit could have been avoided if we had discovered Nexus Crystals earlier and got the tech out to market sooner."

There was a short bout of silence as the topic weighed down on both of us before the memory of the armored vehicles came to mind, along with an interesting question that suddenly popped into my head.

"You know...on that point, have we upgraded any of these fighting vehicles with CFCs? Make 'em run like Power Armor or something?"

He laughed sheepishly as he brought over a few of the drab olive wrapped MREs and a couple bottles of Sunrise Sarsaparilla for us to enjoy.

"Oh trust me...we've been trying, but the work's been...slow. Spaghetti and spaghetti?"

"Oh, yeah double pasta is never a bad thing." I laughed while he began warming up the meal with their nifty built-in warmers. "Slow how?"

"Slow in the fact we only have like a 65% understanding of how everything in those suckers work; enough to keep 'em running and patching up mild problems, but not much more. Gryphons know how to make wonderfully complex machines that work remarkably well, but that's also the major problem. Soon as one has an issue, you go to take off one piece and find out its made of eight or more smaller pieces that are all finely machined to exact specifications. Lots of redundancies with equipment and they've got wiring stuffed into every nook and cranny in ways that are hard to put back exactly the same way. Trying to retrofit them with Crystalline Cores means completely redesigning the engine, stripping out the copper wiring for microfilament crystal, making a secure place for the power supply and regulator...it's just a fucking nightmare."

"Heh, first-hoof experience I take it?" I laughed, taking a grateful draught of the icy cold soda.

"More than a little..." He groaned, resting his blue head on his hooves. "We've only managed to retrofit two. Two damn APCs that only got one test drive each before the Lawnmower sent them back overseas without so much as a damn 'thank you'..."

"Lawnmower...?"

"Oh...heh, sorry. That's what we call the Ministry of War around here since their acronym is 'mow' and they buzz right through shit like a lawnmower. Material, money, soldiers, us Engineers...don't matter. All is grass for cutting."

"Ohhhh..." I laughed as it clicked for me, mouth drooling slightly from the warm smell of spaghetti nearby. "Morbid, cynical and accurate...works for me, heh."

"Mmph..." He grumbled tiredly, pulling out some basic metal bowls for the two of us along with some forks. "Glad it works for someone. I wanted more time with those two bastards, damnit! I had so many tests I wanted to run on them so we could get a better idea of how the fuck we managed to put them together and got the new power source actually functioning. Not gonna lie to ya, Crete...I've got no clue how we managed to pull it off. Lots of exposed wiring, some parts that didn't wanna go back into the spot, random shit all over the place...it's just asking for something to happen to the internals with how little time we had to reassemble it."

"Yeesh...that bad eh?"

"You ever seen the early PoA prototypes?"

"Heh...can't say I have. Didn't even know they were a thing till the Steel Ranger Corps was shat into existence and the T-45s started showing up down here en-masse one day."

"Hm...well, let's just say those were more put together than those ramshackles they swiped from us six-months too early. I told them when they came for the inspection! Gave my full report to Apple Jack's personal assistant face-to-face and told her, 'DO NOT ship these yet. We only JUST got them working and are still trying to figure out how we even pulled it off, give us even three more months to try and learn from this.' Was like it was in one ear and out the other...she heard the words 'it works' and went deaf after the HUGE 'but' that came afterwards. Next day the Lawnmower boys flew in with a Nimbus and hauled both of them away without even giving me a chance to protest..."

"Humph...shows how much they valued your opinion..." I growled softly. "I swear to fuck I don't understand half the shit Command does. I'm convinced the Hexagon has only half a brain to go around the Six Ministries..."

"More like Five, let's be honest..." He laughed bitterly. "Not like Rainbow Dash or her Ministry of Awesome actually do anything with her acting as the General of the Airborne Corps full-time."

"Trueeee...but without the M.O.A, you guys wouldn't even have a budget now would you? With Rarity and Apple Jack arguing with each other and the EAF set to the side, you guys aren't gonna be getting jack or shit anytime soon. It's been over eight years now and nothing has fucking changed."

He nodded silently and we both sat there quietly, the muffled noise of the frantic pace of work outside providing a decent white noise to keep the silence from feeling awkward. On the far side of the tool and parts infested tent sat Shiloh quietly grooming himself atop a homemade kitty palace of metal and wood while nearby a pair of terminals sat with lines of code flowing ever upwards on their green screens. It continually baffled my mind that the Engineers were one of the most important Corps in the Equestrian Armed Forces, and yet got jack shit to fund or maintain themselves. Money for training, salaries and equipment/parts came from the nearly untouched budget allotted the Ministry of Awesome, but because Rarity refused to push through uniform and rank pin designs, the Engineers Corps was not officially a part of the EAF. It only existed as well as it did thanks to an intense need for their services and by recruiting skilled factory workers who wanted a more...exciting way of earning their paycheck. Of course being a support system rather than a frontline fighter, the budget for arming these Engineers in the event of close-combat wasn't exactly big or extravagant.

"You know, I have to ask...how's the scramble for weapons going for you guys?"

"Huh?" He asked, looking up from dumping the steaming contents of our MREs in the bowls. "Oh...that. Same shit as ever really. Anything we can recover from the trenches and weapons deemed too far gone for regular use that we can take and repair as best we can. You think the GA is chuck full of mismatched guns? Ain't got shit on us! Got weapons from every major producer and country alike around here at Camp Grease. Thankfully ammo is easy enough to come by, but I swear to fuck I'm sick of getting crates of empty magazines that only go to a quarter of the guns here. Ooooh! Before we start on the armor, I've got somethin' special I've been cooking up I want you to see!"

He stood back up and eagerly trotted over to an enormous worktable he used for more intensive gun tinkering, coming back with something wrapped in an oily rag in his mouth. He set it down on the table and with no little amount of excitement whipped the rag away to reveal a...very curious looking revolver. It was hammerless featuring a thick, eight-inch barrel with a blocky portion of the frame extending out underneath the barrel with five small red LEDs glowing dimly along the bottom edge in a small recess. There seemed to be a side-loading port for a single SparkPack to be housed inside this underbarrel portion which explained the fancy lights, although what they actually did was still a mystery. The cylinder seemed to be housed under some sort of blast shield while the crane and ejector rod seemed to be one solid piece capped by two more LEDs on either end, both glowing a soft red. Past those oddities, the grip was standard for a mouth-fired sidearm with stained wood, FlexiMesh furnishings, and a flat steel plate on the bottom of the butt with a lanyard loop welded onto it.

"Ok...what in the fuck have you made this time, Blaze...?" I asked seriously, turning the bizarre weapon over and over in my magic with a critical eye. "This is by far the weirdest one yet..."

"Hellfire!" He grinned mischievously, eagerly pushing the large cylinder release button with the tip of his nose.

The blast shield hiding the cylinder popped open of its own accord with the cylinder following suit, flipping to the other side of the blast shield before it retracted back up into the frame of the gun. Much like my Sequoia, or really any break-action pistol, the odd, smooth-milled cylinder was made for easy access for reloading; my attention noticing the bore for the bullets was wider at the back than where the projectile met the barrel. The lights on either end of the crane and rod were now glowing yellow, and the ejector star that I hadn't even notice pop out snapped back into place in the cylinder. I was looking at a bizarre, hammerless revolver that came with a mechanically powered cylinder and auto-ejector. It was an incredibly complicated design that left me speechless, although the size of the chambers in the cylinder seemed a tad small for the conditions we faced. In the Badlands, you wanted as much bite to your bark as you could get as overkill was far better than underkill when it came to combat armor.

"Sweet fucking Celestia, Blaze..." I mumbled, still in awe at what I was seeing. "Is this .357 Magnus? Seems a bit anemic for the Badlands rumble we've got going on down here."

"Heh, heh, I'm one step ahead of ya Crete!" He laughed heartily, reaching back to his tactical harness and pulling out a traditional looking speedloader from his belt with his teeth.

"Are...are those 5.56s?!" I asked in shock as he spat the loader out for me to see for myself.

"Hell yeah they are!" He replied proudly, nodding for me to load it into the waiting cylinder. "Go on! Give her a go! You'll be faster at it with your horn than me trying to finesse it with my mouth and hooves."

Holding back further questions, I obliged him curiously and stuffed the narrow rifle rounds into the cylinder, the speedloader clicking as the nub of the ejector pressed a central button releasing all five rounds at once. The yellow lights now became green as if recognizing it had been reloaded and a second later, the blast plate along the side popped open once more. The cylinder flipped back into the cradle of the plate, before both swung back into place with a soft beep from the technological underbarrel portion now sporting five green lights. Minimal effort required and arguably just as fast as a top-break.

"Is this...a round counter?" I asked, still in a bit of stunned contemplation.

"Yep! Can tell how much you've got in the cylinder in the dark and if it's even loaded to begin with, with that nifty indicator light on the crane and ejector rod!"

"That...is fucking amazing, Blaze!" I exclaimed in awe, pushing the cylinder release myself and watching the complicated action swing out but fail to eject the rounds. "Wait, does this thing also tell if there are live rounds in here?"

"Ding, ding, ding!" He beamed. "The auto-ejector only kicks in for how many rounds have been spent in case I fire a few and wanna top off with individual rounds. Each arm of the ejector star can work independent of the others so only the spent rounds are kicked out, something the computer chip in the lower frame keeps track of on its own."

"Just...wow..." I breathed in amazement. "5.56 in a fucking automatic revolver. Aren't gonna get a ton of velocity from such a short barrel but still, this'll punch deeper than a .357 Magnus."

"Yep! And I get the option for armor penetrating and tracer rounds! Works really well up to 35 yards and I've even managed to ping some steel at 50, so I ain't complaining."

"I'm not either!" I laughed, glancing down at my Sequoia and feeling a tad outshone by such a unique weapon. "And I thought my revolver was somethin' special..."

Our happy conversation comparing our two weapons carried us right through dinner and another couple bottles of Sarsaparilla until we both realized an hour had passed and we had yet to even touch on the real reason I was here. Putting our dishes to the side, he hung a 'Do Not Disturb' sign outside his tent entrance and led me to the large worktable in the center of the area where a nondescript wooden crate rested. Judging by the way he shivered and grinned from ear to ear, Blaze was just as giddy to unbox this beauty as I was. I was surprised and mad at myself for forgetting the damn thing even existed, although I gave myself a pass given everything that had happened since I had killed its owner. Still...new armor was just something I could never keep myself from for long. It was an addiction I was happy to feed.

We removed the lid and resting in a bed of wood shavings was the enigmatic black and charcoal grey armor I had been itching to see up close and personal, without a chance of death attached, for some time. It came out as a one-piece unit, similar to our M-CAP Model-3s, including a jumpsuit of whatever stand-in for Kevyarn they used augmented with hard impact plates covering vital organs and the extremities. Each impact plate was smooth, matte painted and devoid of any excessive bulk or unnecessary aesthestics that could snag on their invisibility cloak. The segmented set of back plates were attached via several tightly-fit straps which protected a long industrial strength zipper that held the form-fitting armor closed around the body. Lining the spine underneath was a row of small round rubies embedded in silver housings which seemed to piggyback off the invisibility enchantment placed on their cloaks. The rest of the armor was more of the same, with dozens of independent, well-formed, slim, and form-fitting matte-black impact plates that didn't seem to be made of meta, but rather some odd ceramic. An occasional ruby or two, housed in the same stylized silver disc, studded the occasional plate ensuring the spell had full coverage. Every part of the body was accounted for in the protection factor, with dozens of lames ensuring the most flexibility possible while the boots were padded with an unknown rubber-like material that produced no sound when something was knocked against it. Unfortunately, the odd EVA style helmet Zecuro had been wearing was missing, preventing us from delving deeper into its functions. Cuts from a standard razorblade failed to sever even a single fiber of the unknown armor weave, while a sharp electrical probe failed to puncture through the material as well. The plates themselves were rock-solid to the touch, but rang clear like crystal when struck by anything solid like a nearby spanner. We were looking at the next evolution in Zebra bodily defense and had a ground-floor preview.

"Goddamn...this is something else..." Blaze breathed as we stood back to look at the whole ensemble. "This isn't meant for your standard infantry pony, that's for damn sure..."

"I'll say! This thing is scary..." I replied, wondering if I could fit in it myself. "The fact they can hide this entire thing under those cloaks is just crazy to think about. All that protection..."

"Has to be the ruby array. We already know the Imperial Brooch provides the power for the enchantment which is somehow transmitted via the Zephyr Spider Silk the cloaks are made from. They must have found a way to tap into the energy source and distribute the spell across the rest of the armor using those gems as foundations for extension. Sweet mercy that silk is some magical stuff..."

"So this Kevyarn looking stuff, that has to be made of the same silk then?"

"More than likely? Unless they've found another substance which can do the same thing...who knows what those Shamans are up to over there? We make Kevyarn out of normal spider silk and Crystal Empire sheep's wool so it would make sense for them to replicate what we did with the best shit they got, just like they always have. We make weapons and calibers, they take 'em and make their own versions for domestic reproduction."

"Indeed..." I sighed, thinking about all the stolen designs and copycats I had encountered. "What about those ceramic plates? Any guesses at what they might be made from?"

"Hmm...probably the same stuff they put in their Mrk. IVs if I had to throw out a guess. Let me find out..."

He moved to the other side of the room where stacks of wooden crates of varying size lay, digging around in them before coming back finally with a device in his mouth. Although I had forgotten whatever silly name the M.O.A.S had given it, I remembered that it could read the chemical compositions of most organic and inorganic materials using some sort of Alchemy that was out of my league to try and comprehend. It looked like a microscope I had used back in my college lab courses, but was three-times larger and came with a built-in printer, a computer screen/keyboard combo and featured a large cut diamond as the focus lens. After raising the arm holding up the objective lens, he slid the bracer portion of the armor on the stage, reset the arm to the correct height, and pressed a command into the computer. There was some sort of golden beam of energy shot from the tip of the diamond into the armor for a few moments before shutting off and the printer spitting out a report.

"Hmmm...chemical analysis came back with mostly silicone carbide and...titanium. From the looks of it though, the silicone carbide is more like a filler reinforced with small plates of titanium. Damned expensive as fuck investment right there just for some boots on the ground..."

"Silicone carbide..." I hummed, recognizing it as a common ceramic body armor type. "Anything about that in particular that would make them choose it specifically? With two other major ceramic types to choose from, why this one? We both know they don't do something without a purpose behind it...so the question is, what is behind this one?"

"Hmm..." He mumbled almost to himself, taking another look at the report. "Huh...says here it has a very flawless grain pattern with nice, strong crystals. Curious...."

"Elaborate? I ain't your levels of smart with metallurgy and inorganic chemistry."

"Well...silicone is a hell of a multi-faceted element. In particular, it's the foundation of silicone dioxide which is what many semiprecious gemstones are made from, plus some trace atoms like iron, ferric hydroxide or titanium that give them color. The only difference between silicone dioxide and silicone carbide is just a few atoms. Maybe...they found a way to grow this armor in a similar manner to artificially producing lattice structures of silica..."

"So...what you're saying is the armor is..."

"Sorta made of gemstones too which allows it to piggyback off the invisibility spell as well. Wouldn't surprise me if they are experimenting with this stuff to try and make armor that can turn invisible without the need of the cloak itself."

"Damn...that would make them even scarier. Least if you get a good grapple on them you can knock the hood back and disrupt the enchantment making them visible. For now..."

"Agreed. Thank Celestia this shit is so new...can't imagine having to fight a Crimson Dragon in one of these. Looks like it can take a lot of abuse."

We fell into silence again, both of us digesting what we had learned from our examination with grim thoughts. The cloaks, while immensely powerful in their own right, were still fallible and could lose their efficacy if torn or otherwise damaged in some way. With armor like this capable of independent invisibility, it would mean more lives lost to trench scalpers, and even more calculated assassinations with higher chances of survival on the assassin's part. Rudimentary spells had been discovered that could detect their enchantments but their range of coverage was rather small and required skilled technicians to keep the Talismans powered and functioning. These only existed in the camp however and the talismans were far too big for personal use due to the power requirements leaving those of us out in the warzone exposed. As for how protective it was, the only way to know for sure was ballistics tests but...with it being the only example we had to work with, I was loathe to start popping shots off at it lest I damage a perfectly good toy. Although with the titanium-cored ceramic plates and Kenyarn copycat...experience was telling me to look in the .30-06 AP and above weight classes.

"Sorry about the body by the way..." I apologized, remembering that I had left him with a headless corpse to extricate from the armor. "Didn't have time to dump it myself as there was still a front to push at the time."

"Heh...don't mention it." He chuckled sheepishly. "See shit like that all too often and it had bled out by the time I got to it so there wasn't much of a wet mess waiting for me. Took a bit to find the zipper but after that I just dumped the body in the nearest trench, tossed the armor in that box and hightailed it outta there. Didn't take more than five minutes, tops, and I was back here immediately afterwards with everything."

"Did Buck tell ya you could keep the sword?"

"Hell yeah he did!" He grinned, nodding towards his modest cot over by Shiloh where the straight-bladed Zebra sword lay sheathed and leaning against the tent wall. "Thing's a beauty! Was hoping you'd snag one for me someday."

"How much do you want for the job?"

"Nothing, keeping the armor and the sword is more than enough payment for some minor undertaker work."

"Oh common, Blaze..." I protested, knowing he was being a tad too generous given his work load. "Lemme comp ya with some actual cash."

"I told ya, I don't want it Crete. Being the first Engineer, as far as I know, to hold one of these and get to poke and prod its secrets under the radar is payment enough. Plus! Now I got a hella cool electric Zebra sword to fuck people up with if I ever need to!"

"Alright, alright! I hear ya my guy..." I laughed, raising my hooves in defeat. "What ya gonna do with them then?"

"Sure as hell ain't sending it to Command, that's for damn sure. They can recover another set from someone else, this one is gonna be my new time waster. I wanna see how this sucker ticks."

"Heh...well..." I replied, lifting up my bottle of Sarsaparilla and clinking it off his as a victory toast. "Here's to friendship and being fucking nerds!"

Next Chapter: Chapter Thirty-Seven: Ranger with the Big Iron on His Chest Estimated time remaining: 9 Hours, 24 Minutes