The cadets walked together down the airstrip, the cold air barely affecting them through their new uniforms. They were fairly simple; dark blue cotton jackets with black accents, black slacks with a single blue line running down each side, black leather boots that clicked sharply on the stone of the one paved area in all of camp, and dark blue berets with a single four pointed silver star in the middle. They had the same star stitched to the left sleeve of their jackets, and Tangelo also had red crosses on her jacket and beret beneath the stars, designating her as a medic.

"Ready to march off to our deaths?" Vermilion said jokingly as he nudged Sundance with one shoulder.

Sundance laughed and pushed him back. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess. It's a hell of a lot easier knowing I'm not alone." He glanced over his shoulder back at the forest which held the camp that had been his home for the past four years. Four years that felt both long and short at the same time. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't want to go. We've made so many memories here and it actually could have been enjoyable if it weren't for the fact that we were being raised for the sole purpose of fighting a pointless war."

Vermilion nodded. "I get what you mean." He glanced at the DropShips at the far end of the airstrip and sighed. "I wonder how long we'll survive out there."

"Me too. Do you think they're going to just throw us straight into battle or have us wait around for a while?"

"I'm not sure. I guess that depends on whenever they need extra bodies to throw into the frontlines. I can't imagine they see us freeborns as valuable assets," Vermilion said, shrugging.

"I'm sure they recognize that the few of us left actually have some level of skill," Tangelo said from Sundance's right. "They're letting us keep the Mechs, after all."

"That's a good point." Vermilion sighed again as they neared the DropShips, their bay doors open and awaiting the new arrivals. "We'll see you guys on the WarShip, I guess," he said to the light and medium Mech pilots before walking towards the DropShip on the left. Mist and Chartreuse followed him over before walking up the ship's ramp. Bistre led Mint and Fern to the other DropShip, leaving Sundance and Tangelo alone on the airstrip.

Tangelo sighed and turned towards Sundance. "It's finally happening. We really might not be alive one week from now."

Sundance nodded. "Yeah. It's terrifying."

Tangelo pushed herself against Sundance and nestled her head underneath his. "Are we going to be alright? Can we actually survive long enough to be let free?"

Sundance nuzzled her hair and let out a sigh while he gazed out into the forest. "I don't know." He really wanted to say something to make Tangelo feel better, but he didn't think there was a single thing he could tell her. Everything he thought of was either a blatant lie she wouldn't believe or not the slightest bit comforting.

They sat there for a long moment with their bodies pressed together, comforting each other just with their presence. After a while, the engines of the DropShips firing up brought them back to the present. Sundance took a step away from Tangelo and gave her a sad smile. "See you in space?"

Tangelo smiled slightly. "Yeah. See you up there."

Sundance leaned down and gave her a quick kiss, stealing their last moment together on Dike. This was what he knew he was going to miss the most; all the happy and carefree time he got to spend with Tangelo, when it was just the two of them without a care in the world.

Sundance broke the kiss after a moment and smiled at her before turning towards the DropShip and walking up to it. He stopped at the foot of the ramp and stared up at the massive steel doors that acted as the entrance to the Hell he was sure to be thrown into very soon. He shook his head, his heart catching in his throat. Even now, knowing escape was impossible, he had still dreamed about it constantly. It was an enticing fantasy, but one that he couldn't follow. "I've got no choice. I have to go." He glanced back at the other DropShip. "Besides, I can't let Tangelo go on alone. Wherever she goes, I go."

Sundance turned back to the DropShip in front of him, took a deep breath, and stepped onto the ramp. His boots clicked as he walked up it and through the steel doors into the dim interior of the DropShip. He blinked as his eyes adjusted and he looked around to take in his surroundings.

Vermilion's Timber Wolf was directly in front of him, facing out the door he just came through. His own Hellbringer was situated in front of the closed doors to his left, and Chartreuse's Clan Marauder and Mist's Summoner were on the far side of the DropShip, facing the opposite direction. All of their cutie marks had been painted onto their 'Mechs right below the insignia of Clan Draconequus on the left torso. Except for Mist's, who for some reason had yet to earn his cutie mark.

Sundance noticed an open door in the wall to his right and went over to it. When he poked his head through and looked around, he saw what seemed to be a small common area for the crew. There were three square tables with four chairs seated around each of them, a few couches along the walls, and a long bar to his left. The tables and couches all appeared to be bolted to the floor of the ship. Mist and Vermilion were sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the room and Chartreuse was sitting alone on one of the couches.

Mist waved to Sundance as he peeked his head into the room. "Hey, Sundance. We were starting to get worried the ship was gonna leave without you. Come on over, we were just about to get wasted!"

Vermilion smacked Mist in the back of the head. "We're too young to drink, idiot."

Mist yelped and rubbed the lump forming on his head. "Ow. So? The drink cabinets aren't under lock and key. They're just waiting for somepony to take a drink. Nopony's gonna know."

Sundance shook his head and walked over to them. "Tell you what, Mist. If we both manage to survive for another five years, we can get as drunk as you'd like."

Mist grinned at him. "Sounds like a plan."

Sundance pulled out one of the chairs and sat down in it before glancing at Chartreuse and making eye contact with her. She frowned and turned away to stare at the far wall.

Vermilion leaned in over the table. "She's been in a bad mood for a while now, hasn't she?" he whispered.

Sundance nodded. She had started acting differently about two years ago, but she hadn't really gotten to be as bitter as she was now until just a few months prior. He wasn't really sure why.

"Do you have any idea why, Mist? The two of you are pretty close," Vermilion said quietly.

Mist scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Well, I do know why she's upset, but she asked me not to tell anypony else. Especially not either of you."

Vermilion glanced at Sundance. "It has something to do with him and Tangelo, doesn't it?"

Mist bit his bottom lip and leaned back in his seat. "You really gotta stop doing that. How do you figure everything out like that?"

"I'm not sure. I just notice a lot of things." Vermilion sighed. "Cue the typical brooding, silent pony stereotypes."

"You're not brooding, you're just, um..." Mist scratched the bottom of his chin for a few seconds, thinking, before throwing his hooves up in an exaggerated shrug. "Yeah, I got nothing. Sorry."

Vermilion shook his head. "Anyways, why don't you go talk to her? It shouldn't really be me, and no offense Sundance, but you're probably one of the last ponies she would want to talk to about this."

Sundance shrugged. "I totally agree with you on that, actually."

Mist sighed. "I could, but I've already tried a few times. She doesn't seem like she wants to go too far into detail."

"You have to keep trying. Keeping her negative emotions to herself isn't good. Trust me, I know," Vermilion said.

Mist scratched the side of his neck and glanced over at Chartreuse. He sighed again after a moment. "Alright, fine. I'll go see what I can do. Don't blame me if I just make things worse, though," he said before getting up and walking over to her.

Vermilion leaned back in his seat and watched Mist go. The blue pony sat down next to Chartreuse and tried to get her attention, but to no avail. Vermilion shook his head and turned to Sundance. "So how are things with you and Tangelo?"

Sundance smiled shyly and rubbed his shoulder. "It's great. I've never felt better in my life than I do now, and she feels the same way. I'm just glad I could make her feel so happy again. She's an amazing pony and she deserves to feel wanted."

Vermilion nodded. "That's good to hear. If only Chartreuse could feel the same way about it." He glanced over at the grey pegasus again. "Jealousy is a terrible thing. It's going to consume her if somepony isn't there to keep her from holding everything in. That's why I pushed Mist to talk to her."

Sundance sighed. "I still feel bad about rejecting her. I never meant to hurt her, I just thought she could be happier with somepony else." He rubbed his upper foreleg. "Not just her, either. I felt I could be happier with somepony else. That's why I turned her down."

"Don't feel guilty. You shouldn't feel obligated to dedicate your life to pleasing everypony else." Vermilion leaned over and rested a hoof on Sundance's shoulder. "It's your life, and you should be free to do what you want with it. Just don't forget about us, okay? We're still your family," he said with a wink.

Sundance nodded and smiled. "Okay."

A siren suddenly went off, making the four of them jump. They heard metal groan as the ramp receded into the DropShip and the door slid shut. An animated, raspy voice sounded through the intercom and echoed jubilantly throughout the ship. "Welcome aboard the Leopard-class DropShip, 'Tub of Lard.' Lovingly named so because it handles like one. Soon we'll be departing for the Nightlord-class WarShip named 'Celestia's Left Tit.' You don't want to know how that ship got its name. This is going to be a bumpy ascent, so hold on tight to something, or better yet, grab those convenient straps next to you and cinch those bad boys around your waist. You don't want to be standing up when this baby takes off."

The voice chuckled. "Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Obsidian, what do you mean straps? There aren't any on this bloody ship!' Precisely. There used to be, but those trueborn fuckers don't give a blind rat's arse about us and wouldn't pay to replace them when they broke. Luckily we managed to steal some grade-A scotch and those comfy couches from them, though. So, grab your ankles and hope nothing in your fragile body breaks, because-"

The voice suddenly cut off and they heard scuffling and grunting through the speakers. The four of them exchanged confused glances with each other, not quite sure what was going on. This continued for a few seconds as the engines of the DropShip whined louder and louder. After a moment the speakers went silent and a different pony cleared his throat. His voice was deep and clear, ringing with authority. "My name is Commander Slate. Don't mind my brother. He was clearly dropped on his head as a colt."

The voice sighed, clearly defeated. "This DropShip is indeed named 'Tub of Lard.' The pilot has a strange sense of humor. However, there is no WarShip anywhere in all of the Clans with a daft name like that. The Nightlord you are about to board is called the 'Constellation.' Feel free to hold on to anything that's bolted down. Or don't. The military doesn't care either way."

The four cadets all glanced at each other, confused. That certainly wasn't what they expected to hear when they boarded the ship. "So, should we hold on to something or not?" Mist asked right before the DropShip shot forward like an arrow from a bow. Sundance and Vermilion's chairs fell over, taking the two ponies with them. Mist and Chartreuse were pressed violently into the soft cushions of the couch but luckily had nothing hard to slam into, Unlike poor Vermilion and Sundance who both smacked their heads painfully against the floor, followed by the wall behind them.

After a few moments when the ship finished accelerating, Sundance and Vermilion stood back up and stretched their battered joints. Mist chuckled. "I guess we know now why the chairs were all lying on the floor when we got here."

Vermilion nodded and brushed off his jacket. "Yeah." He frowned. "I wonder why they were so open about how they feel about their higher-ups. Are they not worried about the consequences?"

Sundance shrugged and picked his beret up off the ground. "I'm not sure. If so, Clan Draconequus must be in worse shape than we thought." He turned towards the exit of the room and glanced out at their Mechs. He rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head. "I know one thing's for certain, though. Things are going to get a lot more complicated from here on out."

Sundance woke to the racket of a pony bursting into the room, screaming everypony awake. "Get your arses out of bed, freebirths! It's time to go to war, did you hear?"

Sundance shook his head and blinked drearily at the pony that had crashed into the room. It was a stallion with a black coat, a dark grey mane, and black eyes. It was Obsidian, one of the two brother Commanders. While by far the least strict Commander Sundance had ever met, he had a thing for theatrics. And he was so loud. He yelled all the time, which was probably why his voice was always raspy.

"Into those uniforms, out the door! To the mission briefing room! Are you soldiers, or what?"

"I think I might go with 'or what,' sir," Mist said as he rubbed his head and rolled back onto his stomach. He had fallen out of bed when the Commander had smashed the door open. "Is it really that urgent or are you just yelling for the fun of it again?"

Obsidian waved a hoof at Mist. "Of course I'm yelling for the fun of it, brussel sprout. You should have learned that by now. That's the best part about being a Commander."

Mist frowned. "Brussel sprout?"

"Come on, let's go! The girls have been there for ages! You wouldn't want to keep the mares waiting, would you?" Obsidian said before turning to march back out the room. "Step to, lads! Shouldn't your last hours be lively?" After a moment of blissful silence, the black pony's head popped back in through the door. "Oh, before I forget, there are plenty of dark corners around this ship if you have anything you want to do before you die. Don't worry, none of the video cameras actually work," he said with a wink before he disappeared again.

Sundance shook his head. "Weird fucking pony," he mumbled before groaning and rolling out of bed. Being a soldier wasn't anything like he had expected. From the moment he heard Obsidian's voice on the intercom last week he had a feeling things were going to get strange, and boy was he right. It almost seemed like the Clan hierarchy meant nothing to the crew of the freeborn WarShip, and the Commanders acted more like mentors and friends than leaders. Or at least they tried to. Sundance shook his head. He wasn't sure what to think of any of it yet, but at least it wasn't bad.

Sundance turned to Vermilion as he pulled his slacks over his hind legs. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this. Why do the Commanders act like that? Commander Charcoal would have a fit if he saw how they acted. They don't even make us call them by their ranks."

Vermilion shrugged. "I don't know, but why question it? If I don't have to suck up to some casket born, I don't care how strange our Commanders are."

"It's probably because everypony on this ship is freeborn," Mist said, walking over to them. He was fiddling with the zipper on his slacks, trying to coax it to move. "We've all been through the same situation. Everypony here woke up on a planet somewhere in Clan Draconequus space one morning, heard gunshots and watched our families get murdered, got thrown into a cart, were raised for war while being told we're inferior and useless, then sent off here to do the dirty work. Ah, finally," Mist said as the zipper moved into place. He grabbed the jacket that was draped over his back and pulled it on. "Nopony here actually cares about this war, not even the Commanders. None of us belong here."

Bistre ran a brown hoof through his golden mane. "Shouldn't there be at least one trueborn on board? They don't trust us with anything else, so why let us run a million ton space ship?"

Mist shrugged. "I don't know. If there was one here, they stopped caring a long time ago. It's strange that they're just letting us operate on our own like this. The military might be stretched even thinner than I had thought."

"So what does that mean for us?" Fern asked as he stamped his hooves into his boots.

"Not much, at least not at the moment. For now, pretty much all we get is relaxed higher-ups. Maybe once the Clan finally overexerts its military they'll give up and set us free, or better yet we can set ourselves free." Mist shook his head. "Anyway, we shouldn't be talking about this right now. Let's get going. Obsidian made it sound like we're doing more than just mopping floors today. I don't know about you guys, but I don't exactly have a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach."

The five of them walked out of their dark room and into the brightly lit halls of the WarShip. Once sleek and beautiful, this aging ship no longer had the luster it used to have, though it was still taken good care of by its inhabitants. The cadets had had to adjust to a different time system, which was strange to get used to but not impossible. Normally it just made Sundance feel like he was awake for far too long, and he tended to wake up early as well. Just not on days like today when somepony decided to jolt all of them awake. Sundance scratched the back of his head. It had been a long week, but nonetheless, he had hoped this time of peace for the cadets would never end.

They made their way to the briefing room which had its double doors propped wide open. Inside, Sundance saw Mint, Chartreuse, and Tangelo all seated around the long wooden table. A projector lit up the entirety of the opposite wall with its "no input" signal bouncing around aimlessly. Tangelo waved to Sundance as he walked through the doors and he went over to sit next to her.

"Hey. Did you sleep well?" she asked, giving him a quick kiss as he sat down.

Sundance rubbed his eyes. "Not in the slightest."

Tangelo gave him an amused look. "Obsidian again?"

He nodded. "That pony has something seriously wrong with his head."

"Well, it could be worse. At least we haven't been treated like livestock." She reached up and straightened Sundance's mane. "And the food is good."

He nodded. "That's true. Despite our Commanders' quirks, it's not actually that bad here. Though, I don't know if I could get used to seeing nothing but steel walls all day. I miss the mountains." He glanced around the bland room around them. There wasn't really much nice about it. Just boring grey walls.

Sundance noticed Mist and Chartreuse sitting together, talking to each other. They had seemed like they had gotten closer over the past week and Chartreuse had begun to seem like her old self again, though she still acted somewhat strange around Sundance. He smiled to himself. "It's good to see everypony smiling again."

The cadets all glanced at the entrance of the room as their four Commanders walked into the room. It was always easy to tell when they were coming since half of them were anything but quiet. Obsidian and Slate were nearly yelling at each other, as usual, while Cotton was busy messing with her Noteputer and Hazelnut had a grim expression on his face. The two brothers continued their argument in the far corner of the room and Obsidian gestured wildly with his hooves. Sundance couldn't quite tell what they were arguing about, but whatever it was, it sounded bad.

Cotton walked up to the front of the room and placed her Noteputer down on the table, her bouncy white mane flopping over her baby blue eyes. She reached a pale hoof up to brush it out of her face and tapped a few keys on the device. The projector suddenly flashed and switched to a top-down picture of a field littered with small sections of sparse forestry and rippling hills. Cotton tapped another button, and the view zoomed out to include not only the edge of a mountain range, but also a few buildings that looked like the outskirts of a military base with watchtowers, turrets, and a far-reaching barrier.

Hazelnut cleared his throat and stared at the bickering brothers, his mahogany eyes serious. The two of them quieted down, though they still shot each other the occasional glare. Normally Hazelnut was much lighter-hearted than this, which worried Sundance. "So, as you should have already been told, the soldiers of the Constellation have been tasked with a new assignment." He sighed and turned towards the projected image, pointing to the visible buildings at the top of the picture with one of his dirt colored hooves. "These are the outskirts of a production facility under the control of Clan Wolf. It's our mission to destroy it and kill everypony there."

"Are you serious? We're just supposed to run in and shoot anything that moves? Even if they're trying to run or surrender?" Mint asked in disbelief. She scratched the top of her head with her pale hoof, ruffling her red and white mane. "And I thought our Clan couldn't sink any lower."

"Yes, but that's not all." Hazelnut sighed and frowned, the light from the projector accenting his furrowed brow. "This particular facility is on the planet... Strana Mechty."

The cadets all stared at him in disbelief. Strana was somewhat of a sacred planet to all of the Clans. The Khans met there in the Hall of Khans whenever they needed to discuss something face to face, and while it wasn't under the control of any one Clan, it was the home to a number of military installations and production facilities. Whether they completed or failed this mission, it was suicide for Clan Draconequus.

Vermilion slammed his hooves on the table and shot up as his chair crashed into the wall behind him. "What?! What the hell is our Khan thinking? Invade Strana? Has he gone mad?"

Obsidian shook his head. "It's awful, isn't it?" He ran a hoof along the side of his neck, somber for once. "I say we leave. We should just jump straight into Clan Wolf or Ghost Bear territory and tell them what's going on. They're honorable, unlike this detestable Clan. They'll let us join them, either as soldiers or civilians."

"Is that what you were arguing about when you walked in?" Bistre piped in. "I think it's a great plan. I'd love to be the one to personally put a bullet through our Khan's head. Why wouldn't you agree with something like that, Slate?"

Slate sighed and shook his head, his short, black hair swinging back and forth above his dark grey coat. "I do agree. This Clan is full of corrupt scum who need to be purged. What we didn't agree about was what to do after we fled. I wanted to fight, while Obsidian wanted to be cowardly and become a merchant."

"We can't just leave. It's too risky," Cotton said as she looked up from her Noteputer. "They'd send another WarShip to intercept us, and they'd blow our DropShips to kingdom come days before we ever made it to any habitable planet."

Hazelnut nodded. "Besides, we can't leave the other freeborn cadets. If we're not here for them when they finish training, who knows what kind of terrible trueborn crew they'll get stuck with? We have to stay."

"Well, it is good to see at least some of you have a shred of loyalty," a steely voice said from the doorway. Sundance turned towards the voice and saw a unicorn standing in the doorway. And shit, was she massive. Her muscles strained against her violet coat and her uniform, which had a five-pointed golden star with a black diamond over it stitched onto her uniform, the mark of a Clan Draconequus Captain. Her dark red eyes scanned the room, looking over every pony in it.

"C-Captain Sienna," Obsidian stammered before backing against the wall. "What are you doing on the Constellation?"

"Investigating. It had come to my attention that a few ponies here had begun to misbehave." Captain Sienna sighed. "Why could you not just accept your orders? The military can not spare any trueborns to run this blasted ship, so I am indirectly in charge of two vessels. Whenever one of you freebirths act up, I am the one who suffers because I have to spend my precious time finding your replacements. It really is a hassle."

Slate narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but just then an ear-ringingly loud BANG shook the walls of the room. His eyes grew wide and he froze in place, no sound coming out of his agape mouth. He slowly lowered his head to stare at the small hole that had appeared in his chest and was leaking blood out onto the floor. "Son of a bitch." Slate collapsed to the ground, sputtering blood out of his mouth.

"No! Slate!" Obsidian shouted as he leaped down to lift his brother's head with his hooves. "Stay with me! You can't die!"

Tangelo gasped and rushed over to the fallen Commander before pressing her hooves against the gunshot wound. "Quick, get me something to stop the bleeding with!" she said to Cotton frantically.

"Oh, it is far too late for that," Captain Sienna said as she walked slowly towards them with her horn aglow. Her jacket opened slightly and a glowing pistol floated its way out before pointing itself directly at Tangelo. "These two worthless brothers are going to die, as are you."

Sundance stared at the Captain, gritting his teeth. "I have to do something!" he thought. He willed his muscles to move, to jump up and tear the gun away from her, but they resisted, stiff with fear. He clenched his jaw harder and glared at the back of the unicorn who had just walked past him. "Come on, you worthless pony! Get up and do something! MOVE!"

Suddenly an object flew through the air and smacked into the gun, nudging the barrel enough so that the shot went wide and missed its mark. It was a boot, hurled by one of the other cadets in the room. Captain Sienna spun around and glared around the room angrily, looking to punish whoever interfered. Luckily, however, it was all Sundance needed to snap out of his terrified trance.

Sundance leaped up out of his seat and jabbed one of his hooves into the unicorn's right eye, hoping to incapacitate her. However, this only managed to elicit an angry grunt from the Captain. She grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and slammed him onto the table before pressing the barrel of the gun underneath his chin. "You fucking little cunt. How many of you useless scum do I have to kill today?"

Sundance squeezed his eyes closed and waited for the gunshot, followed by whatever afterlife awaited him. "I'm sorry, Tangelo. I guess this is it for me."

He flinched when he heard the gunshot and felt heat spray over his face, but was confused when he realized he hadn't been hit. Sundance cracked one eye open and saw blood and brains spattered all over the ceiling, right above where the Captain had been moments ago. The room was infused with the smell of gunpowder and the warm, ironish scent of blood. The pistol was still floating above Sundance's chest, except it was pointing away from him, and it was glowing brown now, not red.

Sundance turned his head and saw Bistre staring blankly at the mess on the walls, his horn aglow. He set the gun down gently on the table and plopped into his seat, trembling. He opened his mouth but no sound came out, only a nervous breath. He shook his head and rested his forehead on the table.

Cotton rushed over to Slate and placed a medkit down next to Tangelo. "Here, we need to get him patched up."

Slate grabbed Cotton's hoof feebly as she went to open the small box. "Don't bother. I'm already dead," he coughed out as a stream of blood began running out of his mouth.

"No, I can still save you. The four of us have been together for nearly twenty years. We've survived countless battles and disasters. I'm not about to lose you now, after all we've been through," she said, struggling to open the med kit. Her eyes were tearing up and her hooves weren't cooperating quite like they should have been.

Slate smiled at her. "It's too late. There's nothing you can do for me." He weakly raised a hoof and placed it against her cheek, wiping the tears from her face. "Don't cry for me. There are worse fates than dying for the ones you love-" he suddenly broke off into a coughing fit and curled up painfully.

"Slate!" Cotton cried, leaning down to try to help him.

He placed a hoof on Cotton's shoulder. "You know what needs to be done. You can't save me, but you can keep all of these young ponies alive," Slate whispered before weakly coughing up more blood. "Go. Do your duty... as their Commander..." His head flopped onto the floor and he let out a sigh as his life left his body. His dull black eyes stared out ahead of him, all of the light having gone from them.

Cotton let out a sob and rested her forehead on his. She sat there for a moment, allowing herself just a few seconds to grieve before she stood back up and stared back down at Slate. "Goodbye, old friend." She reached down to shut his eyelids with one hoof before turning around to face Hazelnut, who had moved to comfort Bistre. Hazelnut nodded to her and she rushed out the door, taking her Noteputer with her.

Sundance slipped off the table and walked over to Tangelo, carefully stepping over the dead body of the Captain. She was sitting back on her hind legs with her head placed in her bloody hooves. Sundance sat down next to her and pulled her close, wrapping his forelegs around her. He didn't say anything, he just let her cry on him, supporting her just by being there.

Vermilion, Mist, and Chartreuse all walked over to them solemnly, eyeing the bloody scene. Obsidian was sprawled over his brother's body, sobbing uncontrollably. They felt truly bad for him, and while they'd only known the late Commander for one week it was still a hard blow. Slate was an amazing pony whose strong sense of duty was an inspiration to all of them, even though it had gotten him killed in the end.

Sundance glanced over at his friends and noticed Chartreuse was standing a little funny. When he glanced down he saw one of her boots was missing. "Chartreuse threw that boot at the Captain? She risked her life to save Tangelo? Why? I thought she hated her," he thought, confused. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but Cotton's voice on the intercom stopped him.

"All essential crew is to head to the bridge immediately to prepare for Jump Zero. Everypony else head to your designated DropShip and await further orders. Do not leave your DropShip. That is essential for your survival."

Vermilion frowned and turned to Hazelnut. "What's going on?"

Hazelnut sighed. "A trueborn Captain was murdered aboard the Constellation. We'd be very lucky if they let any of us go after that. Our only remaining chance at getting you lot out alive is to jump to the nearest militarized planet, Strana Mechty in this case, and drop you all off. At least one of the other Clans there should be willing to accept any survivors as bondsmen. You'll not only be alive, but you'll be in an honorable Clan with the choice to live out a peaceful life."

Mist shook his head. "Wait, wait, wait. You mean, the WarShip is going to jump to Strana and just 'drop us off?' How close are we getting to the planet, exactly?"

Hazelnut scratched the back of his head. "Almost five hundred thousand kilometers from the surface of the planet, I think."

Mist's eyes went wide. "But that's suicide! The WarShip can't survive something like that! Even if the jump isn't miscalculated and we don't crash into a planet or end up fifty years in the future, that much gravity would destroy the ship. They're not meant to get within a hundred million kilometers of a planet at least, let alone five hundred thousand."

"That's what Jump Zero is. It's a suicide mission to save as many lives as possible, while ending only a small hoof full. Everypony on the DropShips can make it to safety, at the expense of the few ponies piloting the WarShip. We've planned for something like this. We don't just sit around on our asses up here, contrary to popular belief," Hazelnut said with a rueful smile. "We had a feeling it might come to this one day. Let the big boys handle this stuff, and just worry about your own skins."

Hazelnut sighed deeply and gazed at the ceiling. "We've lost Slate today. Cotton won't live to see tomorrow, either. None of us might survive, in fact. If the trueborns on the ship Sienna came from are particularly pissed, they might just follow us and destroy their own WarShip just to end all of our lives. No, I'm almost certain that's what they're going to do."

He lowered his head back to level and looked at the cadets, his eyes ablaze with fury. "Get ready. Once we're on Strana you'll be fighting for your lives."