Recon carried KKATs.

They walked behind the dogs and to the front gate. Fo produced a key and unlocked the thick metal doors. Two of his dogs slid open the gate. Blackout gave a displeased sigh to this.

At first the ponies took an unintentional and awkward lead before realizing the dogs conducted their patrols with a certain degree of leisure. They slowed down and began to walk amidst the group of diamond dogs.

Fo chuckled as they slowed down.

“So this is your first time in Mohs?” He matched stride with Locked Breech.

“Yes.” Said Locked Breech.

“It’s a great place as long as you like guns, drugs and shit food.” Said God.

“I’m sorry nobody told you about us.” Said Natick. “I imagine it was a bit odd finding us in your base.”

“Khyber probably told them all about our nice country and offered them timeshares.” Said Fo. The dogs around him laughed. “Let me explain things to you ponies. Mohs needs defense from itself more than it needs defense from other countries.” He pointed to the other mountains. “At the top of each of our mountains, save for Brony Mountain, is a big base full of scary dogs with guns. Those dogs occasionally come down the mountains and kick ass when necessary. The Federal Forces of Security, or FFS, is the reason this whole country hasn’t collapsed into anarchy. Besides the military up in those bases, there’s beat cops like us.” Fo motioned to his squad. “We’re the Gmales. We do most of the policing and don’t get paid nearly enough. There’s a hell of a lot of mercenaries around Mohs, there’s even an entire town of them on mountain four; they do a lot of security as well.”

“Your relations officer downplayed the number of dogs with guns.” Said Blackout.

“Bet he did.” Said Fo. “Just ‘cause we’re not in a civil war doesn’t mean we’re not always fighting. You’ve got groups like the Wraiths or the Crazies, who are just idiots that like to stir up trouble. Tillage is always looking for legal ways to shoot people, and sometimes I think the Bronies are too. Then there’s the Grimdarks.”

Red Field had been watching the road as he listened. They’d wound a kilometer down the road without seeing anyone.

Red Field’s heartbeat picked up as he noticed movement.

Ahead of them was a dog with a shovel, digging a hole next to the road. Natick nudged Fo and Fo spotted the dog.

“Watcha doing?” Asked God, walking ahead of them. The dog looked up.

“Oh, uh, just digging a connector to a friend’s tunnel.” Said the dog, straightening upon seeing the group of ponies and Gmales.

“That’s not legal this close to the road.” Said Natick.

“What tunnel?” Asked Fo.

“Uh, just a friend’s.” Said the dog. “He’s got a little mine further down the mountain. We were gonna meet up and use my tunnel to move the gems a bit faster.”

“Do you have an ID?” Asked Natick.

“What kind of gems?” Asked Fo. “Do you have an example on you?”

“Oh yeah sure.” The dog dug into the breast pocket of his vest. Blackout drew his pistol quietly. The dog tossed Fo a dirty, violet rock. “Found a little vein of amethyst.” Said the dog anxiously. “We were going to dig them out this week-”

“Told you there were gems on this mountain.” Said Fo, tossing the rock to God.

“I didn’t say there weren’t gems, I just said there weren’t many.” Said God.

“Oh there’s not many.” Said the dog hastily. “It’s like maybe a kilogram total.”

“Then why would you dig another tunnel?” Asked Natick.

“There’s more than that. He’s just scared of us taking a sampling from whatever’s down there.” Said Fo with a nod to the dog. He extricated the amethyst from God’s paws and pocketed it. “Have fun with your mining.”

He started walking again.

The ponies shuffled past the dog, who took a few steps away from them.

“Move that to the other side of the road.” Said Natick, pointing to the hole. “Go at least a hundred meters down the mountain.” The dog nodded and scampered across the road, carrying his shovel with him.

“Big arrest, big problems.” Said Fo. “Little arrest, little problems.” He looked back at the ponies. “No arrest...”

They walked for another half an hour. The sun had already slipped behind a mountain and its rays were cut apart by the trees on either side of the road. The patrol passed a convenience store operating out of a wooden shack the size of Red Field’s house. Fo had bought a pack of beer with the amethyst and all of the Gmales, save for Natick, were drinking. The thin air of Mohs dried Red Field’s mouth and he felt along his vest for his canteen.

He’d put a magazine pouch where his canteen usually went.

“Full, do you have any extra water?” Red Field asked.

“Oh, hey, have mine.” God unzipped a pouch on his vest and tossed Red Field a worn aluminum bottle. Full Wing looked at Red Field, holding out his own canteen. “What, something wrong with mine?”

“No, not at all. Thanks.” Said Red Field. He slipped the bottle into his pack and trudged onward, ignoring his thirst.

They crossed a bridge, under which ran a clear creek. Fo sighed and leaned against the railing.

“We should have left earlier.” He said, looking down the mountain. “What are we supposed to check down in Mica?”

“They were complaining about some drifters getting drunk and pissing on buildings.” Said Natick. “Also a welfare check on that puppy.”

Fo finished his beer.

“Drifters come and go, right? That’s why they’re drifters.” He tossed the bottle off the bridge and it fell for several seconds before shattering on some rocks in the creek bed. “That pup is probably fine.”

“Talcum had a robbery a few days ago too.” Said Natick. “We’re supposed to take a report on that.”

“We’ll get to that.” Said Fo. He looked back at the ponies. “I’d hate to have you out all night.”

“We don’t mind sir.” Said Locked Breech.

“Well, I do.” Said Fo. He started back up the road. Natick sighed and followed after him.

Red Field only carried his carbine. The DMR, along with Full Wing’s spotting equipment, was stuffed into the cargo hold of the chariot.

“Oatmeal or porridge?” Full Wing tore the top off of a cardboard box of MSRPs as he sat down next to Red Field. Red Field pulled the plate carrier tight to his body and shrugged.

“Whatever is fine.” Red Field said.

“All right, I’ll give you porridge.” Full Wing laid the packet on Red Field’s lap.

“Ay, pass up the food.” Wildcat called from the front seat of the chariot.

“Just a sec.” Full Wing pulled out his packet of breakfast and lobbed the box up to the front seat. “When are we leaving?”

“Just as soon as Chester finishes ‘petitioning for our safety’.” Blackout said with a laugh.

“What?” Asked Full Wing. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Makes plenty sense.” Wildcat chuckled. “Well to Chester at least.”

“Knock it off.” Locked Breech said as he made a preliminary check of the chariot. “And give me the clover.”

They’d awoken at 0700, but only a tiny sliver of the golden sun made it through the slit between the two mountains to their east. The slice of sunlight cut down the middle of the chariot, dividing Red Field and Full Wing from the other ponies.

Red Field hadn’t slept well and his body ached from the rigid mattress he’d dug out of one of the rooms adjacent to theirs. After the patrol, the dogs had slunk into the third building, which Recon left to them without question.
Red Field rubbed his face and tried to shake the sleep from his brain.

Something banged against the side of the chariot, startling everypony.

A dog stood beside the chariot. He was short for a diamond dog, and the top of his grey ears barely reached the top of the door.

“What the fuck was that for?” Asked Blackout.

“Sorry sirs.” The dog took a few steps back. “Fo wants to know what your plans are for the day.”

“We’re not going to disclose our operations for the day.” Said Locked Breech. This was not the response the dog was supposed to obtain and his tail switched as he thought for another way to phrase the inquiry.

“Well, if you have anything you can disclose, he’d like to know.” The dog said. He was polite, and based on the scarceness of his gear, Red Field guessed the dog wasn’t a very high ranking Gmale.

“Just tell him we decline to give out any information on our operations for security reasons.” Locked Breech said.

“All right, thank you.” Said the dog.

“No problem.” Said Locked Breech.

“What time will you be returning to base?” Asked the dog.

“What?” Asked Locked Breech sharply, causing the dog’s ears to droop.

“Fo would like to know-”

“Late.”

“Okay, I’ll tell him.”

“Do that.” Said Blackout.

“He would like you to know we will be conducting another patrol tonight at nineteen hundred, so if you’re back by then-”

“We will certainly assist you, if we’re back then.” Locked Breech said. “Why don’t you relay this information to him?” The dog, who didn’t seem to want to confront the ponies any longer, nodded and bolted off.

“Hell.” Wildcat shook his head. “These idiots don’t know when to piss off.”

“Agree-” Blackout was interrupted by another, albeit softer, bang on the opposite side of the chariot. “Christ!” He shouted as he slid over to the opposite side of the vehicle.

“Are we ready to head out?” Chesterfield asked, pulling down the door to the chariot and climbing inside.

“Yeah, if you’re fuckin’ ready.” Wildcat said. “How long does it take to talk to The Big Pony?”

“Lay off of him.” Locked Breech looked back at Chesterfield, who was sliding his pack under his seat. “Get the door.” He threw the last packet of freeze-dried hay back at Chesterfield, before starting the chariot.

“See you later.” Blackout called to the base, his mouth full of breakfast.

“We’ll be seeing more of them soon enough.” Said Locked Breech as they took off.

“Of course.” Said Blackout dismally.

“What’s our contact’s name?” Asked Wildcat once they had ascended.

“He’s a militia leader named Marshall Law. I guess he and Luna have some history and he’s good at keeping tabs on everypony, er, every-dog around here.” Said Locked Breech. “We’re just supposed to head to his compound and meet with him.”

Militias were usually much less disciplined than national militaries; how could anyone be less organized than Fo’s band of Gmales?

After breakfast, Red Field gazed over the side of the chariot and down onto the mountains. The mountain air tasted crisp in the morning, and once they rose away from the boulders, the flavor of granite left Red Field’s mouth.

The sun soon rose enough to bathe most of the mountainsides in yellow. In the daylight Red Field could see the evergreen forests opened up quite a bit and allowed large swaths of grass to grow. He could make out the tiny threading bodies of creeks and brooks slithering down the mountains and on one of the far mountains he saw a small waterfall throwing water into a pool feeding into a stream.

He looked up the mountain to their right. They flew only a few hundred meters off of the ground, and Red Field had to crane his neck to look to the top of the giant mountain. Near the summit, the trees and brush thinned away and a startlingly bright layer of white covered the remaining ground.

Red Field had never seen virgin snow. Before the operation in the Frigid North, he hadn’t seen any snow whatsoever. He followed a road running down the mountain. It passed through a few clusters of ramshackle doghouses barely standing out from the trees.

A thick trestle, almost twenty meters wide, ran along the side of the mountain. The train tracks glinted in the sun and Red Field followed them. The track ran over the next mountain, with a few stations along the way. It ran over the next mountain as well.

Red Field shifted to the opposite side of the chariot. The train passed over every mountain in a giant circuit. He could just make out the white trail of smoke pouring out of the engine on the mountain across from him.

What did diamond dogs need to transport?

Their landing spot was well-hidden and Red Field felt a bit of comfort as the chariot nestled into a thick cluster of conifers. The taste of rock, along with a very slight grey haze in the air returned as they landed. Some needles sprinkled into the vehicle as they lowered into the trees.

“Gah, shit.” Wildcat spat a needle. They touched the ground and one of the bending branches whipped upward, spraying them with needles.

“Fuck.” Blackout snapped off a branch hanging directly over him.

“Quiet.” Locked Breech said. “You know how well dogs hear?”

“Thought this was a happy mission.” Blackout said, tossing the branch over the side of the chariot.

“It is, but our presence isn’t worth advertising.” Said Locked Breech. “We tell anyone we run into that we’re on official business with the Gmales, okay?” He made certain his rifle was slung tightly. “Let’s keep the mission happy and keep quiet while we’re on it.”

Thankfully, the forest was noisy enough on its own. Locked Breech led the team down the incline as birds chirped and wind slipped through the trees. They formed a tightly-knit trident, and Full Wing trailed to the right of Red Field, who comprised the right edge of the formation.

The first few minutes were a noiseless operation for the ponies, who were not at all comfortable with their surroundings. Blackout kept his rifle at low ready and Wildcat did the same. Full Wing kept pressing close to Red Field, and Red Field didn’t feel like correcting his posture.

“These woods should be friendly.” Said Locked Breech after a few minutes. “If we run into any dogs, we ask for directions to Marshall Law, de-escalation is our MO.”

“Are there any other towns around here?” Asked Chesterfield.

“No, Tillage is the only settlement for a few kilometers.” Said Locked Breech. “I don’t suppose a town of mercenaries would make good neighbors.”

“Left side.” Blackout said softly. Red Field snapped his view to the left. About fifty meters further down the mountain, four diamond dogs sat on a boulder. They were eating and chatting. A stack of four rifles laid beside them.

“Head right, stay out of sight.” Locked Breech pulled the team to a few trees. Full Wing dropped down to the ground and Red Field fell after him. Wildcat and Blackout slid into Red Field and Full Wing as they bolted over to where the two were laying.

A dog barked.

“Shit, we’re made.” Blackout said, shouldering his rifle. The rest of Recon followed drew their rifles. The four dogs had grabbed their weapons and looked up the mountain at them.

Both groups trained their weapons on one another.

“Whoa hold on now!” Called Locked Breech. “Friendlies! Friendlies here! Don’t shoot.”

“Fuck you!” Shouted a dog.

“Hey fuck you too!” Blackout shouted back.

“Who are you?” Called one of the dogs.

“UATs, Equestrian Armed Forces.” Locked Breech said. “We’re here to-”

“Why are you armed?” The dog asked, pointing his rifle at Locked Breech.

“We’re here for security reasons-”

“We are the security.” Said the dog Red Field was aiming at. The dog who’d asked Locked Breech about their identity lowered his rifle and pulled a radio out of his vest pocket. He kept watch on the ponies as he called someone. Nopony could hear what he was saying.

“We’re here to meet with Marshall Law.” Locked Breech said. “If you could direct us to-”

“Don’t move!” The dog speaking into the radio shouted.

“We’re not!” Locked Breech said. “Let’s work this out peaceably. We’re not here to fight you.”

“How many more of you are there?” Asked the dog.

“We’re here to see Marshall Law.” Said Blackout.

“I have the guy closest to us.” Red Field said to Full Wing, who stood behind him, “You get the one next to him.”

“Red, you hear that?” Whispered Full Wing.

A rustling, almost like the rustling of leaves, came out of the woods around them. Red Field took his eyes off of the group and looked over his shoulder.

Two more groups of dogs, from further up the mountain, descended on them. The dogs took positions behind trees and aimed at the little group of ponies. Before they could find pick a path of retreat, Recon was surrounded by perhaps fifty diamond dogs.

The dogs carried clean, scoped assault rifles and all wore body armor.

“What the fuck.” Said Blackout as the dogs fanned out, completely encircling them. The ponies huddled together as the dogs circled them. A dog carrying the marksman's variant of the Molot shouted for them to drop their weapons. Blackout told the dog to go fuck itself. The dogs were barking, snarling and growling so loudly the dog with the radio had to shout as he ran up the mountain toward them.

Still, his orders were drowned out.

The dog fired his rifle into the ground. Full Wing spooked and a few of the dogs laughed.

“Hawaii Team, I’m glad we had such a good response time, but listen to me,” the dog with the radio pointed at the ponies, “we have to transport these prisoners.” He smirked at Recon. "I don't suppose I need to convince you you're prisoners now?" The dogs began to nod and growl their agreement to him. “Okay, disarm them,” he said, “I don’t want any surprises.”

A few of the diamond dogs exited their cover and moved up on the ponies. One put its paw on Red Field’s gun and stepped in front of him.

“Give me the rifle, pony.” The dog had relatively pronounced breasts and spoke with a higher pitch than the others. Red Field took a second to realize the dog was a female since it looked otherwise indistinguishable from the rest. Red Field, paused, then saw the other members of his team surrendering their weapons. He gave her his carbine. “And the pawgun.”

“Should we bind them?” Asked one dog.

“I don’t know.” Replied the dog who’d taken charge. He cocked his head at the ponies. “Should we?”

“We’ll go peaceably.” Locked Breech said. “As I said, we are just here to see Marshall Law.”

“Well I can help you with that.” The leader held up his paw to the other dogs and motioned for them to follow him.

The throng of dogs massed around Recon and Red Field felt as if he were being herded.

They’d only walked for a few minutes when the trees thinned out and the incline leveled. Yet they were still a few kilometers from the base of the mountain. The leveled ground was pockmarked with small craters and a few rifle casings clinked under Red Field’s hooves as they approached an octagonal fortress standing in the middle of the clearing. Towers and spotlights jutted out along the walls, which were flecked and scratched from volleys of bullet impacts. A tower, easily fifteen meters in circumference, loomed over the rest of the fortress.

“Welcome to Tillage.” The lead dog said. Concertina wire ringed the base of the walls and the gate was flanked by a pair of pillboxes. “Captain Teabag returning to base with six pony prisoners.” He shouted into the bunkers. “We’re here to process them.”

Inside the walls, Tillage looked like the settler towns of Equestria Red Field had seen in his history books. The grounds were a groomed gravel and narrow streets carved utilitarian byways between the buildings. Most of the buildings resembled homes. They were all single story and their roofs slanted upward sharply in chaste triangles. Instead of doors, the houses had wrought-iron gates.

“This way ponies.” Said the leader as he led them through the fortress.

Multitudes of puppies peered out of the houses. Though the kennels were darkened, Red Field could see the smaller, but still very real rifles the puppies carried. The smallest puppies merely clutched their weapons, but a few trained their shortened rifles on the UATs.

A group of female dogs stood next to a miniaturized warehouse only a few times larger than the kennels. The group hacked apart the carcass of what looked like a cow and tossed slabs of flesh atop a mine cart. Rather than purses, pistols hung at the hips of the females. Two construction workers hauled a pallet of timber past the patrol and toward the frame of another kennel. Under the workers’ safety vests were holsters carrying fullsize pistols. The distant impression of bewilderment passed through Red Field’s terrified mind.

Was every dog in Tillage armed?

“Hold up Hawaii squad. What the hell is this?” An Underdog shoved his way through the patrol around Recon. “Who are these assholes? Where did you find them?” Most of the diamond dogs Red Field had seen were the narrow Scilicites, but this dog’s shoulders were swollen outward, giving him the appearance of an ape. He carried an oily light machine gun and several belts of ammo were slung over his broad shoulders.

“Sneaking around in my area.” Said Teabag. He flicked his head at the ponies. “Dumb bastards were just waltzing down the mountain.”

“What’re you going to do with them?” The Underdog sounded more suspicious of Teabag than the ponies.

“I was going to process them.” Said Teabag.

“Run ‘em by Marshall first.”

“Yeah I was gonna after we-”

“Not later, now.” The Underdog said. “These faggots look like they mean business.”

“Sir, we’re here-” Began Locked Breech.

“Shut up.” The Underdog pointed Teabag to the tower in the center of Tillage. “Get them to Marshall.”

“I was going to.” Teabag said under his breath. He whistled to the patrol and they pulled the ponies back in the direction they’d come. Teabag picked up his pace as they walked toward the tower.

Concertina wire also ringed the base of the tower and Red Field peered up at a tiny deck jutting out from the very top of the narrow structure. The height of the tower became absurd when compared to the conservative, strategic design of the rest of the town.

“Liverwurst, Smear, get your guys to restrain these ponies as we enter. I don’t want any surprises. The rest of you stay here.” Said Teabag.

“Look we were trying to see your boss in the first place.” Said Wildcat.

“From now on, you don’t speak until spoken to, pony.” Said Teabag. “Got it?”

“He’ll speak if he wants to, shithead.” Said Blackout.

“Pardon my soldier; I can see you’re being thorough in your security, mister Bag.” Said Locked Breech in a voice just barely louder than whatever Teabag was about to say.

The Scilicite closed his mouth, opened it again, glared at Blackout, then stepped past them and opened the door to the tower.

“Get inside.” Teabag said. Red Field had never seen an apology subdue anyone. He fell into thought, trying to process the exchange. “You too.” Teabag’s nails dug his shoulder as the dog pulled him inside.

The interior of the tower looked as though it had been designed by a being without feelings.

The thick door opened to reveal nothing more than a staircase that was wide enough for two dogs and two ponies to ascend side by side.
The stairs had no rail on either side. Red Field took a breath of warm, stale air and guessed the tower had no air conditioning or janitor either.

Red Field and Full Wing walked at the end of the small procession. Behind them walked three diamond dogs. The ponies’ hoofsteps were drowned out by the click of the dog’s nails against the concrete. They walked in silence for almost two minutes.

“Let me do the talking.” Teabag stopped them before a door atop the stairs. Red Field’s legs ached and he guessed they were at the top of the tower. Teabag cracked his neck, then opened the door.

Red Field did not expect an office atop the tower. He squinted for a second as sunlight flooded into the dark stairwell. The office was ringed with windows from which light streamed into the room. The circular office swelled out from the tower and the room managed to accommodate Recon and their captors.

Standing on either side of the door were two Underdogs. They accosted Teabag and demanded to know his business. Red Field continued to study the room as Teabag gave them an anxious answer.

A desk made of granite sat on the opposite side of the room. It was covered in stacks of papers and loose pens. Some potted plants were arranged against the walls and rather elegant-looking leather chairs sat facing the windows. An empty chair sat behind the desk, and Red Field began to look for the owner of the office.

“These assholes are UAT- where’s Marshall?” Teabag was saying.

Behind the desk was a door leading onto the deck looking out over Tillage. A dog who’d been standing on the deck, looked over his shoulder and saw the group within the office. He entered and Teabag grew silent.

Marshall Law wore a clean uniform printed in a dark woodland pattern. His upper body swelled outward, and since his sleeves were rolled back to his elbows, Red Field could see the tightly packed muscles running up his forearms. Red Field couldn't tell if Marshall Law was an Underdog, an extremely strong Scilicite, or a crossbreed between the two.

“What’s this about?” Marshall Law sounded much older than the other dogs, whom Red Field guessed were within a decade or so of his age.

“Ah, sir.” Teabag stepped past the guards. “Sorry to bother you.” He pointed to the ponies. “These ponies were sneaking around further up the mountain. We picked them up and brought them to you as soon as we could.”

“Who are they?” Marshall Law asked.

“They claim they’re commandos from Equestria. Not sure how much I believe them since we nabbed them so easily.” Said Teabag.

“Do they have IDs?” Marshall Law asked.

“I didn’t think to ask.” Said Teabag. “They were sneaking down the mountain and got into a standoff with my team. I called in reinforcements and we had them pacified in a few seconds.” Teabag added as Marshall Law stepped around the desk to look the ponies over. Marshall Law looked back at Teabag.

“How many dogs did you pull?”

“Fifty or so. Whoever was in the sector at the time.”

“Did you return them?”

“Ah, not yet.”

Marshall Law pointed to the dogs holding the ponies.

“Go, now, get back to your positions.” He looked to Teabag as the group behind Red Field filtered out of the room and down the stairs. “Why’d you take everyone you could find, to secure six ponies?”

“I saw that they were ponies, and very well equipped, and I didn’t want them to get where they were going.” Teabag said, scratching at his arm as Marshall Law faced him.

“There’s no reason to pull an entire patrol for six ponies, no matter who they are.” Said Marshall Law. The last of the group exited behind Red Field, leaving only the pair of guards. “Now,” Marshall Law looked to the ponies, “do you have any identification?”

“Yes sir.” Locked Breech said. “We’re UAT with Gale Force Company; is it all right if I reach into my pocket to get my ID?”
Marshall Law shrugged and Locked Breech drew out his laminated ID. He held it out to Marshall Law, who took the card with a paw the size of Locked Breech’s hoof.

“Why didn’t you let us know you were coming? Can you tell we don’t like unannounced visitors?” Asked Marshall Law.

“I was under the impression my superiors had told you we were coming.” Said Locked Breech.

“The higher ups fucked up communicating to grunts. Hard to imagine.” Marshall Law leaned against the desk. “What’s your business?”

“Well sir, my associates and I are representing an ongoing investigation into persons suspected of conspiring to assassinate Princess Celestia. We-”

“Are you accusing him of something?” Teabag asked. Marshall Law’s eyes flicked to his inferior.

“Captain, let’s do your after-action report right now shall we? Then you can get back to work.” Marshall Law said.

“All right sir.” Said Teabag, still eyeing Locked Breech. Marshall Law reached onto his desk and pulled off a small notepad and pen.

“Good work on your capture. Don’t tie up so many dogs next time, but I won’t diminish the overall significance of capturing some of Equestria’s deadliest fighters.” Teabag flushed a bit. “You didn’t shoot them outright, and you didn’t get shot yourself. Things are looking up for that strike force reassignment.” Marshall Law wrote a few lines, tore off the paper and gave it to Teabag. “Now get back to your patrol.”

“Yes sir, thank you sir!” Teabag took the note and was about to leave when Marshall Law spoke again.

“Did you disarm these ponies?” Marshall Law asked.

“Yes sir- I’ll make sure we get their weapons back to them.” Said Teabag. Marshall Law ran his eyes over the six ponies, then walked to Blackout.

“What’s your name soldier?” He asked.

“Blackout sir.”

“Are you unarmed Blackout?”

Blackout didn’t respond and Red Field looked over at him.

“No sir.” Blackout said finally. One of the Underdogs raised his rifle but Marshall Law waved him off.

“I see, what are you carrying?” He asked.

“Backup gun.” Said Blackout.

“May I see it?”

“Uh, yes.” Blackout drew a small revolver from one of the magazine pouches on his vest. He held it by the grip, making sure the muzzle was pointed at his hooves. Marshall Law closed his eyes and sighed.

“May I see your weapon Blackout?” He asked tiredly.

“Yes sir.” Blackout held out the gun and the dog took the miniscule pistol in his paws. Marshall Law opened the cylinder and ran a finger over the four rimmed shells contained inside.

“Thank you Blackout.” He held up the gun. “Captain Teabag, could you come here and explain what this is to me?”

Marshall Law stood before Red Field, who was standing closest to the door. Teabag walked back to him and Red Field stood between the two.

“That is a weapon sir.” Teabag said quietly.

“Could that pony have shot and killed me without any great difficulty?”

“Yes sir.”

“You know what thorough disarmament looks like don’t you?”

“Yes sir.” Said Teabag. Marshall Law let a breath out of his black nose and it jetted against Red Field’s forehead.

“Give me that.” Said Marshall Law. Teabag’s arm brushed Red Field’s neck as he held out the small paper. Marshall Law put his paw on Red Field’s shoulder and moved him aside, before folding the paper and sliding it into the breast pocket of his uniform.

“Soldier Blackout, is this weapon loaded with shot or bullets?” Asked Marshall Law.

“Bullets sir.” Blackout said.

The Tempest, a short barreled hoofgun/shotgun combination, let out a shot that reverberated through Red Field’s sinuses.
Teabag whined and fell on one knee. Blood broke from his right calf and pattered onto the stone floor. Marshall Law opened the door for him.

“Tell the doc it’s a self-inflicted wound.” Said Marshall Law. Teabag grimaced and shut his eyes tightly, before giving a slight tic of a nod. He limped out of the door, leaving a trail of blood. Marshall Law gave the pistol back to Blackout and seated himself on the edge of the desk.

“What can I do for you mister Locked Breech?” Asked Marshall Law. A thud rose up the stairs from a few flights under them as Teabag collapsed on the steps.

Both of the guards swept white rags soaked in cleaner across the bloodstained floor. Their rifles lay by the door, and soon the rags and their paws were a polluted red. Marshall Law sat at his desk, rummaging through his cabinets and drawers as Locked Breech further explained their operation.

Locked Breech had only mentioned “the Conspiracy” and Marshall Law had gone to work.

“My team and I are here on a preliminary deployment to gather information.” Locked Breech said, ignoring the dogs cleaning at his hooves. “It’s likely the conspirators, or at least some of them, have a presence in this country.”

“Or a business, or a wife, or wives, or a militia.” Marshall Law lifted a stack of files from a cabinet behind his desk and dropped them on the pile he’d already amassed. “There are a million things that your Conspiracy could have here.”

“That’s, true.” Locked Breech said. Recon had stayed at a tight attention after the gunshot, even as Marshall Law bade them to make themselves at home.

“Once we got the word from your Queen last year about building a list of suspects for this ‘Conspiracy’, I put together a list of all of the shitstains I think could be in on it.” He glanced up at them. “Would really have been nice to know you were coming though.”

“Princess, er, Queen Twilight gave this order a year ago?” Locked Breech asked. Marshall Law shook his head as he slid the cabinet shut.

“That’s about it I think, least for now.” He turned back to the desk and began to organize the pile. “No, not Twilight, some other Queen.”

“We don’t have another Queen.” Locked Breech said.

“Jesus, some royal mare gave me the order about a year ago.” Marshall Law said. “I was too busy focusing on getting the aforementioned information rather than preserving a receipt of exactly which royal bitch asked me,” He frowned, “Sorry, mare; you’ll forgive my vocabulary, that’s one of our words.” Locked Breech did not respond and the dog stared at the files for a moment as if he’d forgotten what he was doing. “Anyway,” he picked up the stack, “here’s what I can give you.”
The stack stood half a meter tall. “Actually,” he set the pile down, “let me see if I can find you a box.”

He dug around under his desk.

“This, appears to be a lot of intelligence you’ve collected.” Locked Breech said as he flipped through the first few files. Marshall Law laughed from under his desk.

“I wouldn’t say there’s a lot of intelligence collected anywhere in Mohs. What you have there is all of the dogs, ponies, dragons, and whatever else there is in Mohs that I suspect of being privy to that assassination.”

“Goddamn, it’s like a phonebook.” Wildcat thumped the stack with his hoof and Locked Breech pushed him away.

“You don’t have any means of narrowing down these suspects do you?” Locked Breech asked. Marshall Law poked his head up from under the desk.

“No, I don’t,” he said, “I didn’t know it was also my responsibility to provide intelligence services to the ponies of Equestria along with compiling a list of suspects for them.”

“I was just wondering, since you’re familiar with these persons.” Said Locked Breech.

“No no, fuck it.” Marshall stood with a grunt. He halved the giant pile and set the two stacks beside each other. “I can help you a bit. Are you looking for anyone in particular? Wraiths? Dragons? Underdogs?” He chuckled. “If they’re in the FFS then you’ll have to look elsewhere for a hit team. Tillage tries to stay away from the Feds as much as possible.” He flipped through one of the piles. “Hope you don’t say the Bronies, I already have enough dogs looking for a reason to do a little exterminating on those creeps.”

“Mercenaries I’ve been told,” Locked Breech said, “our intel points to mercenaries, maybe changelings.” Marshall Law picked up one of the stacks and dropped it back on the other.

“Can’t help you friend.” He said, returning to his search for a box. “Everyone in this country could be called a mercenary.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Chesterfield said quietly.

“Professional mercenaries, the kind that are run as a corporation?” Locked Breech added. Marshall Law found an empty cardboard box labeled “accident reports” and he set it down beside the files. He placed both his paws on the desk and leaned over toward the tan stallion.

“You mean like the kind I employ?” He asked. The dog narrowed his eyes at Locked Breech. “Because I will have you know that Tillage has never received a disciplinary military action in its existence as a sovereign state. I run a tight ship, and yes, I do employ a number of legally grey employees. But I do not tolerate excessive bullshit.” He pointed behind them. “Our charter clearly lays out our nonaggression towards the Nation of Equestria.” The ponies looked back and saw a long sheet of hemp paper pressed into a frame that hung on the door. The paper was covered in mellifluous cursive and had a number of bullet points labeled “articles”. “Military contractors are commonplace in Mohs and just because a dog makes his living shooting other dogs doesn’t mean he’s any more suspicious than the ones mining gems.”

“That’s good enough.” Marshall Law called to the guards. “That idiot leaked all over the stairs; you’ll need to clean them off. I doubt these gentleponies will kill me in your absence.” The two dogs stood, picked up their rifles and shuffled out of the room. Marshall Law hoisted the files and dumped them into the box. He picked up the box and held it out to Locked Breech. “This is what I have for you.”

“Yes, thank you.” Locked Breech took the box and passed it to Wildcat. “We appreciate your support, and let me apologize; I didn’t mean to imply that you or your contractors are being investigated. I’m not briefed on that matter as of yet.”

“Not a big deal captain; certainly not one to strain relations over.” Marshall Law pointed to the box. “I trust you’ll be in contact regarding your investigations or lynchings, or whatever it is you plan.” He cocked his head. “Will we be seeing more of those darker ponies around then?”

“I’m not certain who you are talking about.” Locked Breech said .

“Ah, well, I’ll just tell my dogs to be on the lookout for Equestrian ponies then.” Said Marshall Law

Other kinds of ponies?

Marshall Law began to sort through his papers, which had scattered from the onslaught of files. He knocked over a container of pens and a few loose rounds spilled out as well. Locked Breech opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it.

As Recon descended the tower, Red Field saw the trail of blood Teabag had left. It stopped and pooled a bit, presumably where the dog had collapsed. It then grew to a thin trickle and continued down the stairs. He kept his hooves on either side of the stain.

“Jesus Christ this place keeps getting weirder and weirder.” Wildcat said.

“We got what we came for.” Locked Breech said. “Let’s just get this back to base.”

“And see about our guns. Those diggers have probably turned them into chew toys or something.” Blackout said.

“If that’s the case, I don’t want mine.” Chesterfield meant this as a joke, but nopony, even he, laughed.

They were soldiers, trained to fight like a crashing tide hitting a rocky shore. Gale Force Company existed to clash as hard as it could against the crags of its enemies.
But Mohs is a moldering pond, where the forces of grey percolate and collect momentarily, only to dissipate into more complications. Mohs is not a place of resolution; it is antonymous to resolution. Of those six soldiers, of possibly any pony, Red Field would understand this the least.

On the return trip, Red Field asked about their plans for proceeding with the investigation. The thought of hunting down diamond dogs with only his team awoke a terror in Red Field. Surely they would not pursue the “Conspiracy” alone.

“That’s really up to Luna.” Locked Breech said. “Not sure what she thought we’d be getting into with this operation but those files are going to merit a ton of action.”

“So, we’re going to war?” Blackout asked. “This time for real?”

“I didn’t say that-” Began Locked Breech.

“Yeah but the Princess did.” Wildcat said.

“She said that just to fire everypony up to start this investigation.” Said Locked Breech. "We've been living comfortably at base for a very long time."

“So what’s the plan then?” Asked Chesterfield.

“That’s what we’re going to find out.” Locked Breech gave the box of files a kick. “We have the intel, now it’s up for someone else to piece together.”

The midafternoon sun hung above the base as the chariot touched down. They waited and watched to see if any of the Gmales would come slinking out of their barracks to meet them. The dust settled around the chariot and a cloud slowly skimmed over the sun, darkening the base.

“They’re not here. Let’s try to get some work done.” Locked Breech said, carrying the box out of the chariot. The rest of the ponies followed him, keeping an eye on the dogs’ building.

Once inside, they began to focus more. Wildcat and Chesterfield took another inventory of their supplies while Blackout and Full Wing started to scrub at the patch of mildew. The work calmed Red Field and he set to work drawing up a range card centered on the base.

“Red, get over here. I need brains on this.” Called Locked Breech. Red Field set down his notebook and hurried over to the table where Locked Breech had set the box. “Figure out how these are organized, or how they should be organized.” Locked Breech opened a few files and pushed them towards Red Field. “And figure out how many targets we’re dealing with. Let’s get everything sorted before we contact anypony.”

“Yes sir.” Red Field looked up from the files. “Uh, why me though?” Locked Breech had taken a rag and stood beside Full Wing, wiping away the purple stain.

“Did I not say I needed brains? Get to your work.” Locked Breech said. Red Field smiled to himself, he smiled for a few seconds.

His smile died as he looked at the first page of the first file. The file was not a dossier or a personality inventory; it was a list of names. He saw a few businesses labeled along with the names.

Red Field stopped reading. He flipped open another six folders and glanced over them. The files just listed businesses, with upwards of ten names apiece. Further down the page were coordinates to their locations. He turned one of the pages over.

Marshall Law’s scrawl covered the bottom of the page.

“This is the largest mining company run by the Underdogs. They won’t all be tied to the Conspiracy- more likely one of the owners is supporting the effort as a personal quest. But they are Underdogs, so put nothing past them.” Red Field looked back at the coordinates on the opposite side.

He had one place to start.

“Do we have a large map of Mohs?” He asked.

Red Field took two and a half hours to organize the information. He marked the locations of all of the suspected businesses on the map. The last third of the files were not businesses, but individuals. Those he marked on the map with X’s.

Red Field lost count of the number of targets somewhere past four hundred and thirty. The map, which was two meters by two meters, filled with marks and was soon a spotted mess. Marking the last name, Red Field stood and looked over his “organization”. His head ached from reading and following coordinates.

“Whoa, are those all the bad guys?” Blackout was eating a granola bar and he peered down at the map. Red Field nodded. “What the fuck.” Blackout shook his head and took another bite. “We’re not doing this without some backup.”

“You’re done?” Locked Breech walked over to where the two stood. “That’s, a few suspects.” His eyes flitted back and forth over the map, spotting each possibility.

“Eyeah.” Blackout dribbled granules of granola onto the map. “That is a ton of heads to shoot.”

“If only it was that simple.” Locked Breech pushed Blackout a few steps back. “Red, solid work. I want you nearby when I call this in to the brass.” He pointed to Wildcat. “Cat, get over here.” Wildcat sat with Chesterfield, eating some bagged hay. He was still chewing as he sat down at the typewriter. “Contact made with Marshall Law, we have the information, but it is a substantial list of suspects.” Locked Breech paused. “Ah, just send that one and see what they say.” Wildcat nodded and in a moment he tore the page off and stuffed into a bottle.

Red Field realized his stomach was cramping from hunger.

“Hey, do we have anything to eat?” He asked. Chesterfield, who was still propped up against his bunk, threw a granola bar to Red Field.

“Nothing good.” Said Chesterfield.

“You think we’ll get good food when we start going out on raids?” Asked Blackout.

“What makes you sure we’re going to be going out on raids?” Locked Breech asked. Blackout shrugged as he pushed the last of the bar into his mouth.

“Dunno, seems like that’s sort of the job of UATs, and we’re UATs.” He licked his hooves, then wiped them on his vest, which he still wore despite the heat.

“We’ll get backup right?” Full Wing sat on his bunk, nibbling at a cake of dehydrated flax. Blackout shook his head.

“We’re here first so it’s on us to finish the op. Hope you’re ready to shoot a lot of dogs.” He thumped his chest. “I know I am.” Full Wing’s eyes grew wide as he believed this to be Blackout’s actual opinion, and even Red Field had trouble discerning the sarcasm.

“Nopony has said anything about shooting anyone except you idiots.” Said Locked Breech. “It could just as easily be a snatch and grab; last time I checked our justice system still works.” He pointed to Full Wing. “Soak that in some water first.”

Full Wing spat out what he’d eaten from the cake.

“We’re going to be shooting a lot of dogs, or ponies, or both, or something.” Wildcat said. “There’s no way Luna’s going to let whoever planted that bomb live.”

“I didn’t say that she would.” Said Locked Breech. The response to their message poofed into the air above the typewriter and dropped onto the table. “Well let’s just find out what the next step is and stop with this speculation.”

“If I’m not shooting or sleeping, I’m speculating.” Said Blackout. “Or maybe masturbating.”

“I don’t want to hear that.” Locked Breech unrolled the message. “Directive to Recon from Executive Officer Luna: Good work with the intel. Please advise on exact number of potential conspirators given by Marshall Law.” He looked to Red Field. “Red? What’s the count?”

“Uh, four hundred and eighty-seven.” Red Field knew the total number was in the high four hundreds. “Although those are just the combined totals of the corporations and individuals. The actual number of dogs is something close to a thousand.”

“Oh-kay.” Locked Breech pointed to the typewriter. “Say nearly a thousand Cat.”

Another message popped out of the air as Wildcat began to type.

“Disregard last. I am sending my companion Nacht to collect the information. He will relay it to the Asymmetric Warfare Department for processing. Standby for his arrival.” Blackout balled the wrapper to his granola bar and tossed it at the trash can in the corner of the room.

“And that, colts and fillies, is going to be how we spend our next month.” Said Blackout.

“What?” Asked Full Wing.

“Sitting and eating shitty food in this shitty base waiting for brass to figure out who it wants killed.” Wildcat said, standing and collecting the wadded wrapper which had missed the trash can.

“Are we going to have to keep working with Fo and his outfit while we wait?” Asked Chesterfield.

“Great question Chess.” Blackout said. “I’m not spending a month, or however long it takes for brass to figure their shit out, running around with those dogs.”

“We won’t be rendering any support while we wait for orders. Our agreement only pertains to active operations.” Locked Breech said. He tore up both messages and scattered the dissolving parchment onto the floor. “So, let’s get comfortable shall we?”

Recon finished unpacking, then began to arrange the furniture to make the concrete chamber more hospitable. Locked Breech told Red Field to hang the map on the wall. Red Field felt a swell of pride as he hung the scored paper over his bed.
Everypony unwound as they arranged their gear and began making the quarters more hospitable. Full Wing and Wildcat scrubbed the floor while Chesterfield and Locked Breech sculpted a couch out of excess mattresses. They’d started to discuss their favorite beers.

“I found this excellent craft cider that comes from Ponyville. I’m not usually one for ciders too.” Locked Breech adjusted the stack of lumpy mattresses. “Red, why don’t you and Blackout go and see if you can find the AC or whatever comes out of those vents. Maybe we can get the air up and running.”

“Yeah, me and Red can have some quality time.” Blackout stood up from his bed. “Only just met you after basic, then we shoved off for this godforsaken place.” Blackout picked up his hoofgun and slipped it into its holster. “Furnace or whatever’s probably in the basement.”

Blackout couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Red Field. However his muscles, annoyingly loud voice and unflinching rudeness made him seem much older. He walked ahead of Red Field by a few steps, his right forehoof resting on his gun.

“So Red Field: self-taught genius, tell me, how is your first tour?” He asked as they climbed down the stairs to the ground floor.

“It’s all right.” Red Field said politely, which made Blackout laugh.

“You still sound like you’re an eight-year-old who’s at a dinner with his parents and has to talk to strangers.” They walked down the hallway leading to the main room. “Nothing makes me more nervous than a pony who isn’t honest about his feelings. Are you really sure that this place is ‘all right’?”

“It’s strange. I’m not sure I like those dogs.” Red Field added.

“Yeah, not sure anyone likes those dogs, fucking things are all deranged.” Blackout shook his head before looking around the room. Red Field saw the hall leading to the front door. Another hall opposite them led off into darkness. Besides the electrical panel, the room was completely empty. “Probably down this way.” Blackout said, walking toward the other hallway. “Least it better be.”

About five paces into the darkness, Blackout pulled out a flashlight and shined it down the corridor. A set of stairs, leading downward, laid ahead of them.

“There we go.” Blackout walked faster and Red Field crept after him. “So Red, you’re a self-taught genius right?” Blackout asked as he peered down the stairwell.

“Uh, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You can launch an illumination spell down there right?” Blackout pointed to the stairs.

“Uh, no. I can’t.”

“Okay then.” Blackout sounded more annoyed than disappointed. He took a few cautious steps down the stairs. “Get my back, I don’t want to get jumped by some mutant pile of dog shit down here.”

Red Field kept close as Blackout made his way down the stairs. They descended three flights, until they reached what Red Field hoped was nothing more than an empty basement. Blackout took a step into the room and began to feel along a wall. He swore in satisfaction as he clicked a switch.

The lights in the basement were a dark blue; not a hue Red Field would have associated with the contents of the room. Tool chests, about fifteen, in all sizes, were stacked and piled along the walls. Directly ahead of them stood a furnace built into the concrete.

“There we go.” Blackout pocketed his flashlight and approached the furnace. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

To Red Field, the machine seemed simple enough. A single on/off switch and a sliding metal bar under a plate reading “hot/cold” comprised the machine’s interface. The rest of the furnace was smooth, albeit rusted, black metal. Blackout adjusted the slider to "cold", then flipped the switch.

The furnace gave a gurgle.

“Well shit.” Blackout looked back at Red Field. “Do you know anything about A.C. Mr. Red Field?”

“Uh, I don’t think I do.”

“Well I’m going to guess it could just be a broken wire or a loose pipe or something.” Blackout knelt down by the side of the machine. He produced a knife, laid down next to the furnace and began to unscrew a panel. Red Field stood over him. Blackout pointed his knife at the toolchests. “Hey genius, can you check to see what kinds of tools are in there?”

“Uh, sure.” Red Field was glad to do something.

“Why do you gotta start every sentence with ‘uh’?” Blackout twisted at a screw. “Isn’t that like a sign of non-geniusdom?”

Not caring to point out use of the term "non-geniusdom" probably disqualified Blackout from evaluating others on their intelligence, Red Field tried the latch to a chest. It was locked. So was the next- so were all of the tool chests.

Clearly the key wouldn’t be in the room and Red Field returned to the furnace, where Blackout had removed the panel and was now poking around in the machine.

“Locked?” Red Field nodded. “Well how ‘bout you tell me about yourself Red? I know next to nothing about you.” Blackout said, digging around in the machine a bit more.

“Uh, okay.” Red Field paused. “What do you want to know?”

“Are you always this difficult or did I do something to deserve this?” Blackout asked after a pause. Red Field was coming to the realization he did not particularly like Blackout.

“I’m an analytical thinker, I-”

“Yeah I think you told me about that.” Blackout thumped the machine with his hoof. “Why don’t you drop some analysis on this here machine?”

“The Freon has probably leaked out, which is why it isn’t working.” Red Field answered so quickly Blackout looked up.

“Probably not, engine won’t even turn over.” Blackout replied, the hostility between them becoming mutual. “Try aga-”

“Likely any number of chemicals or fuels have stagnated or congealed in the piping.” Said Red Field.

Blackout seemed almost pleased Red Field was getting angry with him.

“Oh really?” He stopped working and propped himself up on one elbow. “Tell me more.”

“It probably runs on a petroleum-based-”

“Yeah, I bet machines do run on gas. Tell me, what should we do to get this working again?” Asked Blackout.

“We, should...” Red Field looked at the machine and tried to think of a plan. He could feel his face turning red.

“Jesus, are you so egotistical you can’t admit when you don’t-”

“Flush the fuel lines with air to rule out any sort of clog in the system, which is fairly likely given the age of the machine and the probable compounds of the fuel.” This stuck to Blackout and his bullying smile faded a bit as he considered this. Blackout glanced back into the machine and Red Field felt a surge of furious vindication.

“Where would we get an air compressor?” Asked Blackout slowly.

“Build one.” Red Field had a very unsteady idea in his head of how to do this, but wanted to keep spiting Blackout. “We-”

“Wait shut the fuck up.” Blackout held up his hoof. Blackout tilted his ear up toward the ceiling. Red Field knew he was just trying to think of a retort and let a snort escape his nose. “Shut up.”

Something in the main floor clacked.

Blackout was on his hooves. He held a hoof over his mouth and Red Field nodded. Drawing his gun, Blackout crept toward the stairs. Red Field huddled close to Blackout as the pair peered upward.

“You heard that right?” Blackout asked. Red Field nodded and Blackout adjusted his grip on the gun. They slipped up the stairwell. The corridor leading to the assembly room was empty. “Fuck.” Blackout said as they watched the end of the hall. A minute passed. “Sounded like a pony right?” Red Field nodded. “I swear to God, there’s nothing I hate more than weird sounds.” They waited for another minute. “It better not be one of those Gmales-” Blackout was holstering his gun when a pony looked down the hall at them.

“Stop!” Shouted Blackout. The pony stepped fully into view. “Who are you?”

Red Field had jumped back at the sight of the pony and he peeked back around Blackout.

“Princess Luna’s assistant.” Nacht said. “I'm here for the information you collected.”

“How did you get in here?” Blackout asked. “You shouldn’t be sneaking around.”

“Apologies.” Nacht’s mindless frown grew a bit longer. “I entered through the front door and thought I heard somepony downstairs, so I was coming to investigate. I apologize for frightening you.” Nacht tilted his head to look around them. “Is the rest of your squad down there?”

“We’ll take you to them.” Blackout said, stuffing his pistol into his holster. “We just weren’t expecting you so soon.”

Nacht walked between the two UATs. He wore the same grey overcoat he’d worn every time they’d seen him at Gale Force. Standing next to him, Red Field became aware of a strange, almost aloof, distance with the unicorn. Unlike the other stallions Red Field knew, who reeked of a combination of sweat, musk, and deodorant, Nacht had no odor whatsoever. Nothing stood out from under his overcoat.

He resembled a sketch more than a pony.

The rest of Recon were organizing their food as the three entered. Locked Breech looked up first and recognized Nacht.

“Oh, hello sir.” Locked Breech said. “We were not expecting you so soon.” He hesitated as he reached for the box of files. "Do you have something to carry this with?”

“You did not distill it into smaller parchment?” Nacht asked.

“Oh, of course of course. Wildcat, get over here and copy this down onto magic paper.” Said Locked Breech. “Sorry, we should have thought of that.”

“Not a problem.”

“So, uh, what’s the plan for tracking down the Conspiracy?” Asked Blackout.

“The A.W.D will analyze the leads, then we’ll move on the most pertinent suspects. As I am told.” Nacht said, glancing over at Blackout only once. Locked Breech shook his head slightly, to indicate to Blackout he should not continue inquiring about their future plans.

“Are you military sir?” Locked Breech asked. “I don’t believe I was briefed on your rank.”

“Ex-military. I work as Princess Luna’s personal assistant.”

“What outfit?” Asked Chesterfield.

“It was disbanded some time ago.”

“Well, thank you for your service.” Locked Breech said.

“You’re welcome.”

Wildcat spent an hour transcribing all of the files onto a tiny roll of magic parchment.

Nacht stood at the table beside Wildcat. He answered a few more questions from Locked Breech, who soon could tell the unicorn didn't require conversation.
After about twenty minutes, Full Wing laid down to take a nap. Blackout followed suit and Locked Breech sat on his bed, looking through a notebook. Only Red Field still stood by Nacht. He subtly studied the blank grey pony, trying to discover anything about him.
Unfortunately, Nacht was properly groomed, smelled like nothing, and did so little Red Field eventually gave up on trying to figure him out.
Nacht was probably just a drone of a lackey for Luna, with some degree of brainwashing since he didn’t appear to want to relax.

Red Field walked to his bed after forty five minutes and returned to thinking on how to make an air compressor for the AC unit.

The clacking finally stopped and Wildcat let out a deep breath.

“That’s all.” He held out the thick roll of magic parchment to Nacht.

“Thank you.” Nacht placed the paper into one of his coat pockets.

“Sorry for the delay.” Locked Breech said, rising to his hooves. Nacht didn’t respond and was walking to the door. “We will await further orders.”

“Hey, what should we do about the Gmales?” Blackout called. Nacht stopped in the doorway. “They have an agreement with us or some shit where we have to help them out in exchange for having a base here.”

“What are they requesting?” Nacht asked.

“Mostly patrols.” Locked Breech said. “They’re police units from what we can tell. I would like to ask what our method of operation with them should be.”

“Did you not receive my communication regarding the legitimacy of their agreement?” Nacht asked, prompting Locked Breech to think of another way to express himself. “Are they requesting anything inordinately dangerous or treasonous?”

He left after nopony could think of a response. The sound of his steps grew softer and softer and faded into nothing as he exited the building.

Locked Breech cocked his head.

“Did he fly in with anyone?” He asked.

“I didn’t hear anything.” Chesterfield said.

“He’s a unicorn, couldn’t have flown in at all.” Wildcat said.

They listened, but the building had gone silent. Blackout walked to the window and looked out.

“I don’t like this motherfucker.” He said. “How the fuck did he get here? And who the fuck is he?”

“There’s a ton of ways to travel that don’t involve flying, he probably opened a portal.” Locked Breech said. “Anyway, he answered your question.”

“The fuck he did.” Said Blackout. “What authority does that guy even have?”

“Presumably that of Princess Luna.” Red Field said.

“Hey fuck you, Red.” Blackout said.

“We’re waiting for orders from command, the dogs are only concerned with patrolling their territory- I think we can handle that for a while.” Locked Breech said. “And nothing says they’re even going to ask us for anything besides ride-along support.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Blackout said, shaking his head as he sat down on his bed and unclipped his vest. “This place just gets more and more fucked as time goes on.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 22 Estimated time remaining: 4 Hours, 25 Minutes