“Do you really think you can do it?” The purple princess inquired of the changeling who’d appeared at her door a few minutes ago asking for this meeting.

“An emotion’s an emotion,” Slipshod began, launching into the same explanation that he’d given to Squelch only a few minutes ago, “If I can siphon it off, I can push it out―”

“That’s not what I meant,” the alicorn interrupted, shaking her head, a smile on her lips, “I’m well aware of what changelings are capable of,” She pointed out to the BattleSteed pilot, who in turn flushed under her gaze; seeming to only now recall how much about changelings that she’d actually taught him in recent months, “What I was referring to was whether or not you felt up to the task of pushing emotions into a large group all at once.”

The changeling bit his lip now, his hooves shifting sheepishly beneath him, “It’ll be tricky,” he acknowledged, “but I should be able to do it.”

Judging by the expression on Twilight’s face, the alicorn seemed to have at least some idea of how much Slipshod was underselling the difficulty of what he was proposing. Physical contact made sharing emotions easy, but it was hardly a requirement. So long as he could see his target, he could interact with their emotions. Distance didn’t really affect things either.

Numbers, on the other hoof…

Because of the unique nature of individuals and their personalized emotional states, interactions also had to be tailored to the creature in question, to a point. Drawing love from Rigger Brush hadn’t been exceptionally different from drawing it out of Blood Chit, but neither had those feelings been identical. Like colors and smells, emotions possessed very subtle variations that couldn’t just be overlooked, depending on the circumstance.

Asking somepony for ‘blue paint’ would likely get a different result than asking for ‘something to color in the sky in this picture’, for example. There were as many types of ‘love’ as there were shades of blue, in much the same way.

If Slipshod had tried to draw out ‘love’ from a whole group at once, he’d honestly probably have been less successful―and harvested a much smaller amount―than if he’d singled out a specific pony and drew upon their love for a specific individual or activity. It wouldn’t be so different trying to push emotions into others. If he pushed Rigger Brush’s love for drawing into Blood Chit, it wouldn’t reinforce the pegasus stallion’s love for anything at all. At best it would leave him confused, and at worst frustrated.

However, in the specific instance that Slipshod was proposing, that was a facet that would actually play to their advantage in many ways. By pushing out a general feeling of remorse and a desire for redemption, they would see only a response from those Reivers in attendance with whom those feelings and desires resonated.

The real issue was going to be in regards to the source for those emotions that he was going to use. While Slipshod did feel a genuine desire to help take down Chrysalis, it wasn’t because he felt like he had anything to make up for. He didn’t ‘regret’ being a pawn in her schemes, he resented her for making him such a pawn. Currently, all he wanted to ‘make up for’ was his egregious error on Colton. Neither of those feelings would resonate with the demographic of Reivers that they were interested in recruiting.

Slipshod therefore couldn’t push his emotions into the raiders. He’d need somepony else’s. Somepony who felt that they had wronged others through their actions―or even their inactions. Somepony who had dedicated themselves to doing whatever it took to make up for their mistakes, and was willing to risk everything to make things right again.

“...You need to be the one to speak to them though,” Slipshod finally said, a little hesitantly, “It’s your remorse that I intend to use.”

The purple mare was silent for several seconds as she processed what the changeling had just said to her. Then her lips cracked into a wan little smile, though the stallion couldn’t feel much within her that she had to smile about, “I suppose if anypony has enough angst inside them to fill a hundred other creatures, it would be me, wouldn’t it?”

Her expression then shifted slightly to one of mild concern, “What if you take too much though?” She asked, cautiously, “If we’re not careful, I could end up losing my own sense of fault.”

“That’s actually going to be the trickier part,” Slipshod acknowledged with a nod, “But I’m hoping I can draw out enough of something similar from the crowd to feed back into you.”

“So you’re saying that there’s the possibility that I could come out of this feeling even more angsty?” This time there was a note of genuine amusement in Twilight’s question. Slipshod merely shrugged, wearing a wry smirk of his own, “Well, I’ll at least wait to see how things turn out before I start stocking up on black manedye.”

General Triton watched the pair of ponies entering the small conference room with a guarded expression. Despite the fact that he’d found himself treated better than he could ever have expected to be during his time as a prisoner of the Disciples, there was little use in hoping to shake his persistent feelings of trepidation. He was the leader of one of the most reviled bands of raiders in the Periphery. The crimes of which he was guilty would have earned him an expeditiously carried out execution in most jurisdictions, without the benefit of even going through a show trial.

He’d known that from the outset. Had expected it really. The moment that WarShip had appeared in the system―and he’d recognized it as a WarShip the moment the sensor profile had been transmitted to him―the hippogriff had known that he was living on borrowed time. The Red Reivers couldn’t stand up to one of those monstrosities. No power in the Periphery could. One of the Sphere powers might have been able to, but only if they’d known it was coming and could have massed together enough DropShips to swarm and overwhelm the vessel with uncontestable numbers.

His only goal from the moment they arrived had been to ensure that as few creatures on Peregrine died as were necessary to appease the newcomers. So he’d gathered together those officers that he knew would be obstinate enough not to realize when they’d been beaten and made sure they were at the duel with him. With them out of the way, more moderate voices would have a chance to shine in his absence. Any lingering grumbling should be effectively silenced after the first round of summary executions, he supposed.

At least he’d secured the alicorn’s assurances that noncombatants would be spared. The hippogriff supposed that was really the most that he could have hoped for, under the circumstances.

That first physical meeting had certainly been quite the shock, Triton admitted. He’d assumed that the holoprojection had been a fake, designed to put him off of his game even more than the WarShip had―a little excessive, he’d thought at the time. Seeing for himself that it had genuinely been an alicorn―and that they’d looked remarkably like Queen Twilight Sparkle…

The Red Reiver general wasn’t certain what he was really supposed to have made of all that. Like many―well, most―Harmony Sphere residents, he’d never given the Queen much thought. After all, she was little more than the pony who oversaw ComSpark and the Mercenary Review Board. He wasn’t a mercenary and it wasn’t like Twilight was personally overseeing every single bit of HSG message traffic any more than a trans-stellar corporation’s CEO was signing off on every single inventory check. Broadly speaking, the alicorn sitting on the ‘throne’ in Canterlot hadn’t really mattered to him.

Now that the idea had been floated to him that she was an imposter...he felt conflicted. Knowing that Queen Twilight Sparkle wasn’t the ‘real’ alicorn princess probably wouldn’t have changed much of his perspective in the grand scheme of things even if that had been information he’d known years ago. On the other talon, there was still the visceral unpleasant reaction at the thought of being lied to. Even then, it wasn’t the lie itself, per se. Creatures lied all the time about all kinds of things. What often mattered most was the reason creatures lied.

To that end, the hippogriff felt a pit in his gut when he thought about why somecreature might lie about being Twilight Sparkle, especially when that creature was in control of the flow of pretty much all of the galaxy’s information. He might be a warrior first and foremost, but the former Combine officer was perfectly well aware about how potent a weapon knowledge could be. If employed correctly, the right piece of information at the right time was worth a battalion of BattleSteeds.

Not that any of these revelations were going to matter to him for much longer, Triton opined. His crimes were too many and too egregious to be overlooked. Once the alicorn was done debriefing him, his value―and by extension his life―would come to an end.

“General Triton,” the purple mare greeted with a curt nod of her head as she took her seat across the table from him. The earth pony stallion who’d accompanied her stood off to the side of the room, nestling himself in amongst the armed guards who escorted the hippogriff here from his cell.

“Princess,” the Red Reiver general inclined his head briefly in a shallow nod, “How can I help you today?”

“I’m hoping, actually, that we can help each other,” the alicorn began, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the hippogriff, “I’ve reviewed your dossier; both the one compiled by the Disciples while you were employed with the Hippogriff Combine, and the records of your time spent with the Red Reivers.

“Honestly, it’s like reading about two different creatures,” Twilight said, eyeing the general as she withdrew a datapad and began to scroll through some of the information contained within. The other stallion was finding it difficult to meet her gaze now. He knew better than most how divergent those accounts likely were.

“Awards and commendations for gallantry, bravery, and selfless service,” she began reading out; each word sending the hippogriff’s head into a lower and lower bow of self loathing, “A citation for valor for holding off a lance of pirates on Marianas IV―on your own―while both civilians and the rest of your lance were evacuated,” The mare paused, looking up from the pad, “According to this, you didn’t make it to the DropShip with the others. You were forced to eject from your ‘Steed and were actually taken prisoner by the pirates.

“It was almost six months before you were rescued. I can’t imagine what you went through during that time.”

It was all that Triton could do not to reach up and touch the scar that had blinded his right eye. It was a wound that he hadn’t received during the fight itself.

“You were offered a discharge at that time. You turned it down. You went on record as saying, ‘If I leave, somegriff else will have to go through that in my place. I can’t let that happen’.

“Help me understand how that ‘griff became who is sitting in front of me now.”

Triton surprised himself when he let out a derisive snort. He remembered saying those words. They haunted him. Of course, he’d just been a young, brash, stupid, lieutenant back then. Naive and full of more testosterone than sense. He’d learned since then, “One day at a time, Princess. One day at a time.

“It wasn’t like I made the conscious decision to do it,” The general offered with a shrug, “When they dismissed me after that ambush, I bounced around a few merc outfits in the Sphere. Became a liability to most of them though. I was a ‘disgraced warrior’ in the eyes of the Combine. They didn’t give top contracts to outfits employing ‘griffs like me.

“Eventually I ended up in the Periphery. Tried to get work with some of the legitimate groups out this way, but there wasn’t a lot of money or openings going around. Then a griffon approached me, offering to cut me in for a ‘share’ in their group’s little ‘protection’ racket.

“On the face of it, it wasn’t so different from what mercenary work in the Sphere was like: you either paid a company top c-bit to protect you, or somecreature else paid them to hurt you,” Triton threw up his talons and meke little shrug.

“Honestly, we rarely did any actual fighting. If a group has a fearsome enough reputation, they don’t need to flex much. Creatures get the idea and do whatever they can to come up with the money,” His features darkened, “...But sometimes they fall behind.

“Again, it’s not so different from how things work in the Sphere,” he insisted, though only halfheartedly, “Convoys get hit all the time. Civilian drivers die. Same with miners, factory workings, dockhooves...if you work at a potential target for industrial espionage, dying in a mercenary attack paid for by a competitor is just one of the risks you take on doing that job,” Triton almost managed to make himself believe that too.

“The Reivers hit a convoy here, a factory there...the occasional farming community,” again the hippogriff’s face darkened. He finally managed to raise his head and look at the purple alicorn, “You rationalize it. They knew they hadn’t paid up. They knew what was going to happen.

“Nothing stopped them from evacuating before we even got there. Right? Anycreature who was still there by the time our ‘Steeds hit the ground was just too stupid to live.

“Right?

“Of course, it’s not always that simple, is it?” The general went on, letting out a deep sigh, “Where exactly were they supposed to go? Buy passage off planet with money they didn’t have on passenger ships that weren’t there? The average creature in the Periphery doesn’t have thousands of c-bits lying around in their account, and any Sphere spaceport sees more ship traffic in a week than most of those planets get in a year.”

The last was said in little more than a bitter sneer. Directed as much at himself as it was at the situation he was describing. Though there certainly had been times when he’d been directing that irritation at his victims. After all, he wouldn’t have been able to kill them if they’d simply been somewhere else! He’d been sent there to level the buildings; whether they’d been occupied or not. Why couldn’t those morons have just left! He could have been demolishing empty structures.

But no; those fools had stubbornly―and stupidly―stayed behind, and now he was being forced to slaughter a whole host of innocent creatures! He didn’t want to be a mass murderer; they were leaving him no choice!

Such thoughts had been the only rationale he could cobble together in order to maintain his sanity during those raids. Every time he’d thought about not participating, he knew that it wouldn’t have made a difference. Some other Reiver would have gladly done it in his stead; and all that would have happened at the end of the day is him losing his ‘livelihood’, such as it was. Punishing himself wasn’t going to help those poor bastards; so what point was there to doing it?

“Then you get this wild idea,” Triton went on, shaking his head, “that if you work your way to the top, you can ‘change things’! You can reform the Red Reivers,” It would have been impossible for the hippogriff to keep the sarcasm out of his words, so he didn’t even bother. He was perfectly well aware of how that ‘grand plan’ had worked out, after all.

“Only, by that time you’re in too deep! You’ve slaughtered your way through tens of thousands of innocents, and the creatures supporting you were right there to see you do it. They were following your example! How are you supposed to convince them you didn’t want to do it? How do you make an argument to scale things back without finding a gun put to your head in the middle of the night because another Reiver doesn’t want to make do with their share of the loot shrinking?

“Nocreature ever tells you it’s actually worse at the top,” he snorted, “When I was just one of their goons, I could get away with letting a truck ‘escape’, or skipping over a house or two. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

“But as the Red Reiver General, I couldn’t let a non-paying ‘client’ get off light. I couldn’t order a raid on an inconsequential target. Every move I made was being scrutinized by every Reiver waiting for an excuse―any excuse―to remove me and take my place.

“And now there was nocreature on the raids who might otherwise have let that truck go or overlooked that house the way I’d been,” The hippogriff said with a defeated sigh, leaning his head into his hooves. He was silent for several seconds before taking a deep breath and straightening up in his chair, regarding the alicorn with a pained expression.

“You want to know what happened to that good ‘griff in your file? He died by a thousand cuts; until he eventually became this,” he gestured broadly to himself with his left talon, the disgust in his voice leaving little doubt as to how even he appraised himself now.

Twilight Sparkle sat in silent contemplation of the general for several long seconds. Triton might have been forgiven for believing that the purple alicorn had simply been struck silent with revulsion at his pathetic excuses for why he’d drenched his claws with so much innocent blood. Except that, try though he might, the old hippogriff couldn’t see a sign of that expected hate and malice anywhere on the youthful pony face sitting across from him. If anything, she looked almost understanding somehow.

“In diplomatic circles,” the purple mare began, catching the hippogriff off guard with the seeming non-sequitur, “they teach that compromise is the key to success. It’s selfish to think that your side will get everything that they want, and that the other side will get nothing that you don’t want them to. Such deals don’t exist,” the mare thought for a moment, cocking a wry smirk, “At least, not without the threat of a really big stick being held at the ready.

“But, threats notwithstanding, the secret to getting what you want, is to be willing to give up a little bit of what you have,” Another pause, her features growing cooler now, “What tends to be learned through experience, however, is that you need to be sure you’ve taken very careful stock of how important what you’re giving up is. That what you’re sacrificing isn’t the core of who you are.”

The alicorn turned her gaze back upon the hippogriff. Her amethyst gaze bore into him, “Was what you gave up worth what you got, Triton?”

So fixed was the former Red Reiver general on the princess’ gaze, that he didn’t notice the earth pony in the corner looking at him much more intently than he had been a moment ago. Triton swallowed under the weight of her glare, feeling like a foal caught with his talons in the sweets jar. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, regret welling up within him.

He’d sacrificed quite a bit to get to where he was today. His honor, his morals, his own sense of self-respect. All so that he could last another day in comfort, because he’d been too proud to let himself recede into the obscurity of a menial existence. He hadn’t had to remain a ‘Steed pilot after leaving the Combine’s service. Nothing would have stopped him from starting a new career somewhere else, doing anything else.

Of course, a ‘hero’ like himself deserved more than that, didn’t he? ‘Griffs with chests full of medals didn’t fade away; they went on to achieve even more greatness on the battlefield!

Or so a younger―dumber―Triton had believed, all those years ago. How wrong that stubborn hothead had been. Thinking that he’d be able to fix things and make it all better. That it could all go back to the way things were by just hoping hard enough. He’d relied on what he’d thought he was good at, and gave up little pieces of himself time and time again in the desperate hope that he wouldn’t have to change.

Now he was here. Nothing of the ‘griff who’d vowed to hold the line against overwhelming odds to protect others remained. He was just another pirate flailing about the galaxy, waiting to get what he deserved; and now he was going to. Good.

“No,” He said, feeling an odd sense of relief at the admission, “And I’m not just saying that because I’ve already lost everything anyway,” Triton assured the alicorn, flashing her a sardonic smile. Then his expression became more melancholy, “Truth be told, I’m actually glad it’s all over. If anything, it’s a pity that death didn’t come for me sooner.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes at the hippogriff, “Do you think that after all you’ve done, you really deserve to get off that light?”

Triton jerked with shock at the question. How was being executed ‘getting off light’? It was hard to imagine a higher price to pay than one’s own life!

The former Reiver general felt a small little knot of guilt forming in his stomach. He did suppose that, through a certain perspective, hoping for death did represent something of a ‘coward’s way out’. It would mean a release from his own guilt. In a way, it was even an escape from accountability. His death would hardly directly benefit any of his victims. Even those who lived in the Periphery would hardly concern themselves much with the death of a single Reiver, whatever his position.

Strictly speaking, was it even a ‘punishment’ if you meted out exactly what the guilty party was content with receiving? Traditionally, a punishment was something to be feared, or at the very least something dreaded. Triton didn’t dread death anymore. If anything, it was the prospect of having to be continuously confronted with his past crimes which terrified the hippogriff.

No. He didn’t deserve to die; if only because he hadn’t earned that kindness.

“If you really do regret what you did, Triton: prove it,” The alicorn declared, once more drawing a stunned look from the hippogriff, “You can’t bring back the dead, but you can dedicate yourself to improving the lives of the living.

“It won’t make up for what you did, not entirely,” Twilight warned him, “But it’s the least that you owe to the galaxy.

“I won’t force you to help us. Compelled contrition isn’t contrition at all. But I will give you the opportunity to help us make the galaxy whole again.”

Triton blinked, still in shock at hearing the proposal being extended to him, “You want my help? You would trust me?”

“I need the help of every willing creature I can get my hooves on,” The alicorn replied, shooting him a wry smirk, “As for ‘trust’...” She glanced back over at the earth pony stallion, who merely returned a curt little nod in response to her unasked question. The purple mare looked back at Triton with a much warmer expression, “I’m willing to give you a chance to prove you’re worthy of it.

“A good place to start will be tomorrow. I’d like you to join me in addressing the Red Reiver DropShip crews…”

Charon stared out over the factory floor that stretched almost endlessly beyond the window in front of her. Massive pieces of machinery danced about with carefully choreographed grace as they set about assembling BattleSteeds at a breakneck pace. She’d have been more impressed with the sight if those ‘Steeds had been of the latest and greatest Pharynx, Sombra, or even the massive Ahuizotl assault chassis. Heck, the mare that had found herself placed in charge of this operation would have been content with some simple top-of-the-line Riflemares at this point!

In a way, the ComSpark general thought acidly to herself, she was getting some ‘top-of-the-line’ Riflemares. They just weren’t ‘top-of-the-line’ by changeling standards. At least, not as advanced as they could have been. Charon had at least managed to make the case successfully that some ‘new breakthroughs’ could be permitted without tipping their hooves too much; under the guise of ‘prototypes’ being pressed into the field years ahead of when they would officially be ready for broad release.

No commander liked the idea of being sent into battle with equipment that they knew to be inferior to the enemy’s. Those reservations tended to get deeper when the equipment being provided was deliberately inferior. Charon understood the reasons why her forces were being effectively hamstrung, and she even agreed with them. That didn’t mean that she liked them.

Queen knew the Clans weren’t going to be holding back where the quality of their ‘Steeds and weapons were concerned!

The consequence was that ComSpark was going to need to rely on quantity to assure themselves of victory in the coming fight. If there was one silver lining to be had, it was that it was starting to look like only a single battle would be needed to decide things. This was a considerable windfall, in Charon’s opinion. It effectively eliminated the risks associated with fighting a holding action across a large front, and facing the risk of being outflanked by an unfortunate breakthrough in their lines. Something which would have been all but unavoidable thanks to the Clanners fielding their fleets of WarShips.

While ComSpark had comparable vessels of their own, it would be impossible for them to hoof-wave their existence in the same way that they could obfuscate the ‘new’ technological innovations their BattleSteeds were outfitted with. The perception of the rest of the Harmony Sphere was―and always had been―that ComSpark was not a significant military power. Possessing a vast armada of heavily-armed WarShips ran counter to that carefully manicured facade. After all, ‘everycreature knew’ that both the technology and the manufacturing capacity to produce such vessels simply no longer existed in the Sphere.

Charon let out a frustrated sigh and shook her head. No, this fight would need to be settled on the ground, and not in orbit. Which meant being ready and able to meet the Clans where they chose to land, and to do so in force.

It had been a prospect which the changeling general had been dreading for a while now. The better part of a hundred inhabited worlds lay along the advancing Clan battle lines. There was little warning as to which would be invaded next, which made it logistically impossible to coordinate any sort of substantial reinforcement effort. They’d have to either spread out their forces everywhere―which simply meant the Clans would be able to concentrate their attacks and defeat any defenders in detail―or they needed to pick a few specific worlds and dig in like the galaxy’s most stubborn tick!

Of course, if they looked like they’d be able to effectively repulse an invasion by a Clan fleet, nothing really stopped the invaders from simply...moving right on by. The Clans were more than capable of bypassing a particularly stubborn-looking world, conquering all of the relatively undefended planets in surrounding systems, and leaving the entrenched defenders now trapped behind enemy lines, unable to reinforce any other world being attacked or even be resupplied. From there, it would only be a matter of time before the dug in garrison would be forced to simply surrender.

Their only hope for achieving any sort of victory under the conditions that they were faced with was to find a world to make a stand on which the Clans simply couldn’t afford not to invade if they wanted to press forward with their offensive any further. Unfortunately, there were scant few such ‘crossroad systems’ along the invasion corridor that were of such paramount strategic importance.

It had honestly been looking quite grim, in Charon’s opinion. A view that had actually been held by several of the officers on her staff as well―albeit quietly. Not a one of them wanted to risk the Queen getting wind that they were concerned about the efficacy of the Clan’s invasion. Officers who didn’t have full faith in the inherent superiority of the changeling race and their indomitable might tended to find that their careers were becoming anything but ‘lustrous’.

Of course, that would undoubtedly happen to the general who failed to stop the Clan threat dead in its tracks, exactly as Charon had been ordered to do, whether her doubts were voiced or not.

Charon finally turned away from the view of the assembly area and looked around at the faces of her command staff. These officers had been hoof-picked by herself both for their demonstrated ability, and the fact that they had shown themselves to be as practically-minded as herself. The changeling general had no time for officers that were more interested in spewing propaganda than they were at respecting the threat posed by a worthy adversary. Which was probably why nearly every one of those faces wore expressions as grim as her own.

She glanced at her Chief Intelligence Officer, “Do the latest reports on their fleet movements show any change?”

“No, ma’am,” The colonel said, shaking his head. The stallion’s lips were creased by a deep frown. As the ‘ling in charge of aggregating and analyzing the vast quantities of information being fed to Charon’s command from ComSpark’s operatives, Lumen usually had a firm grasp on both what was happening and especially why it was happening. The thorough saturation of the Harmony Sphere by changeling agents as a result of the Equus academies’ replacement and infiltration programs meant that pretty much no organization―from the Great Houses running the Successor States, all the way down to the smallest municipal agency―could make a move without ComSpark knowing what was going to happen ahead of time.

In fact, more often than not, major events unfolded in the galaxy only explicitly because ComSpark desired them to! This had allowed Lumen―and pretty much every other ‘ling in the intelligence community―to go about their day with a very nearly prescient understanding of anything going on in the Sphere. Even the most well-grounded individual could easily acquire a sense of alicorn-like superiority under such circumstances, and the colonel hadn’t been much of an exception in that regard, in Charon’s opinion. He was generally tolerable to work with though.

However, the intelligence officer was finding himself in a very novel position these days where the Clans were concerned: only being able to guess what was happening after reading through second-hoof accounts. While these were the conditions under which officers in his position were typically required to function in every other military in the galaxy, it wasn’t anything a changeling CIO had ever had to contend with. A combination of the excess workload and not being able to give definitive answers had left the colonel in something of a sour mood for the past few months.

Today wasn’t going to be the day that it improved either, judging from the irritation in his tone, “While the Clans are still systematically conquering all planets in their path, they are all clearly moving towards a singular target: Buckwheat. Moreover, ComSpark Intelligence recently released a report that seems to suggest this actually represents some sort of ‘change’ in their original invasion plan.”

Charon raised an eyebrow. That was new information, “Explain.”

The colonel nodded and deftly punched in a few commands into his terminal at the holoprojection table. A massive star map focused on the region of the Harmony Sphere being invaded appeared in the air. “From the outset of the invasion, the target was pretty obviously Equus,” Lumen began. As he spoke, stars began to glow red, indicating that they’d been captured by the invaders. Initially, a vast arc spanning hundreds of lightyears at the outer edge of the Sphere was aglow. However, as the fleets penetrated deeper and deeper into Pony Commonwealth and Hippogriff Combine space, the line of advance began to narrow, trending towards the center of the Harmony Sphere: the Faust System.

“This was hardly much of a surprise,” The CIO said before tapping in more commands into the terminal and updating the floating map, “Then, for reasons that we have yet to fully understand,” he said in a near growl of annoyance, “their focus shifted, if only slightly.”

As more stars deeper into Sphere space went red, Charon had to acknowledge that it was a rather subtle thing. While the overall direction of the invasion was still undeniably trending in the direction of Equus, and the line of advance was continuing to narrow, that narrowing had become significantly more pronounced in recent months. Even the general could see that if the trend continued, the invasion fleets would converge well short of their supposed target.

“And there’s been no indication as to why this shift occurred?” She was well aware that Lumen had nothing concrete as far as facts went, but at this point she wouldn’t have been averse to well-reasoned speculation. “They must be responding to something,” Charon pointed out. The Clanners were hardly morons, the general knew, nor had they displayed any hint of irrationality―until now anyway. Something had happened, clearly.

However, said ‘something’ was not necessarily an external stimuli, the changeling commander conceded. It very well may be that the Clans had changed their invasion profile in response to something happening within their own command structure. Charon knew perfectly well that plans could change due to a host of factors. Perhaps the Clan’s logistics had suffered somehow, and they no longer believed they could support as large a front as they had hoped to?

If it was the case that the Clans were heading for Buckwheat because of something happening within their own command structure, then the reality was that ComSpark would never know what it was until such a time as they achieved a military victory and captured some intelligence sources. On the other hoof, if it was an externally motivated change, then maybe there was some way for them to exploit it. There was also some hope that information on a possible external source could be identified through ComSpark’s intelligence network.

“At the moment, nothing substantial enough to justify this diversion has been identified during the indicated timeframe,” Lumen admitted reluctantly, “Our best guess,” he said, sounding as though the word had genuinely left a rancid taste in his mouth, “is that the Clans have identified something of high value on Buckwheat,” As though anticipating his commander’s follow-up question, the CIO continued, “However, nothing of tactical significance has been able to be identified by our own operatives.

“Every indication is that Buckwheat is nothing more than a backwater agrarian planet.”

Charon was frowning by the end of her CIO’s report as well. She studied the map still hovering above the conference table. The changeling general briefly considered that the Clans might be of the opinion that Buckwheat’s position offered some strategic value as a forward supply base or other mobilization hub that could be utilized during the final push towards Equus. However, the system was over two hundred lightyears from here. A best time course from Buckwheat would take two months for an invasion fleet to traverse, leaving little chance of arriving with any measure of surprise that might give their invasion an edge. A smart commander would consolidate and stage their invasion force at a system within one jump from Equus―two if every Jump and WarShip were equipped with jump charge batteries.

Neither did Buckwheat possess the extensive orbital infrastructure that a decent staging area for an invasion of Equus would need. The Clans certainly had to know that the Faust System wouldn’t be the trot in the park that every other one of their targets had been up until this point. Those exiles knew perfectly well that the changelings were in possession of a WarShip fleet. The approach to Equus would not be uncontested, like it was in the rest of Sphere space. They would need to come at the system with their full strength all at once. That meant that whatever planet they grouped at would need to be able to support and berth dozens―if not hundreds―of DropShips simultaneously.

Buckwheat could not do that. Not unless the Clans were prepared to spend years specifically building all of that infrastructure from scratch.

No, the system could not possibly have been of any significant strategic value. Though, Charon mused, that didn’t mean that it might not still have some tactical value that they weren’t aware of. It was true that the world didn’t possess any measurable advanced industrial capacity. Certainly nothing that an invading military force could use to replace any lost or damaged war materials. Buckwheat wouldn’t be a source of ammunition or replacement parts for their armies.

At least, not that they knew of…

“Have your ‘lings cross-checked Buckwheat against CLDF records?” The general asked, her hoof rubbing her chin idly.

“You suspect a hidden cache?” Lumen correctly concluded. The mare nodded and he quickly consulted his notes, “I entertained a similar notion,” he said, “but we weren’t able to find any mention of a base or depot on the planet.”

“On the other hoof, our CLDF records are incomplete,” Charon pointed out, receiving an acknowledging nod from her head of intelligence. It was well known that one of the last acts of the departing CLDF forces which managed to escape before their queen could launch her coup was to erase as much information as they could about many of the Celestia League’s strongholds in the Sphere, “They’d always intended to come back; it would only make sense to have left themselves a few goodies. In that regard, a world like Buckwheat would make perfect sense. After all, how much attention have we paid to that world in the last five centuries?”

“Effectively none,” Lumen was nodding along now, his own brain working through possible scenarios in step with his superior, “It’s far enough away that we wouldn’t have been concerned about it, but close enough that any supplies left in a hidden cache wouldn’t have too far to travel in order to fully outfit a fleet staged for an invasion closer to Equus. That very well may be what we’re looking at here, ma’am.”

“They want that planet,” Charon mused, “They very well may even need it,” she corrected herself after a moment. At Lumen’s questioning look, she gestured a hoof at the map, “Think about it: Their initial invasion corridor would have taken them to Buckwheat anyway,” the general pointed out, “There was no need for them to focus on it, or divert more of their forces towards it. Like we just said: it’s a backwater planet. Which means it’s practically undefended. A battalion of standard armored units could ‘conquer’ that world if anycreature was inclined to waste the c-bits to do so,” she scoffed.

“So why divert so many additional units there?” She barely paused before providing the answer to her own rhetorical question, “They’re employing advanced BattleSteed designs, which means that the obsolete parts available on their conquered worlds won’t be enough to keep them in perfect working order. We know they aren’t taking significant losses during their invasions, but that doesn’t mean that their ‘Steeds aren’t taking significant damage,” Charon stressed.

“It’s feasible that their stockpile of parts is running low,” The general posed, “And their front lines are a lot further from their home systems now―wherever they are―than they were at the beginning of the invasion. They might be faced with the prospect of having to stall their invasion in order to wait on essential parts. In their position, I know that I certainly wouldn’t want to give up any of the momentum that my invasion had been enjoying up to this point,” She glanced over at the colonel, “How would you remedy a shortage of battle-capable units waiting on parts while simultaneously not giving up the initiative?”

“...I’d shorten my line of advance, so that I didn’t need to commit as many units to the fight at once,” The CIO confessed, one corner of his lip turning up in an understanding smile, “While I might not be taking as many objectives at once, I’d still be advancing just as quickly towards my goal. And...if I knew a source of those essential parts existed,” he glanced towards the map as well now, using the terminal in front of him to highling Buckwheat, “say, a hidden cache I’d left behind on my way out of the Sphere...I’d focus on getting there as quickly as possible while I still had enough combat-capable forces to do so.”

“Exactly,” Charon nodded with approval, “That’s quite possibly what we’re seeing play out here. If so, then we may have just been given that golden opportunity that we’ve been hoping for. If Buckwheat is as important to them as we think it might be, it might mean that they can’t afford to pass it up.”

“Or,” Another mare spoke up now, casting a pointed look in her commanding general’s direction, “The Clanners might just want us to think they can’t pass it up.”

Charon paused, looking at the member of her staff who’d spoken up. Brigadier General Scythe served as her Chief of Operations and had been heavily involved in studying the invasion reports in order to come up with defensive tactics and strategies that might best counteract the invader’s current doctrines. As Charon was well aware, her COO’s biggest challenge was coming up with ways to defeat a technologically superior force with an inferior one without costing them too much in the way of casualties. Scythe was also her staff’s foremost expert on Clan tactical doctrine.

“You suspect this could be an attempt to lure us into a trap?”

“I believe it’s worth considering,” the brigadier nodded, “They have to know that we have a significant defensive advantage here in Faust. Drawing our forces out to meet them provides an opportunity to whittle down our numbers without needing to contend with our WarShip fleets

“They have to realize that we’ll be forced to hamstring ourselves in an open confrontation like that,” She pointed out, “If we pile on our forces like you’re proposing, ma’am, it would be a prime opportunity to pulverize them from orbit. While losing all of that junk out there won’t hurt us much,” the brigadier waved a dismissive hoof in the direction of the production floor, “it would still cost us a lot of good pilots.”

Charon grunted in acknowledgement of the point. It was certainly no small consideration. Whether this was genuinely a trap or not, there was no overlooking that the attacking Clan forces would have undisputed control of the skies above the planet, and be able to bombard it uncontested. Her forces would never be able to dig in deep enough to withstand protracted shelling like that.

The general glanced back to Colonel Lumen, “Colonel, write up a proposal to include Quarray Eel missiles on the list of ‘miraculous new developments’ that ComSpark’s going to be unveiling. We have time to get them deployed into planetary defense silos on Buckwheat if we act fast. That’ll keep their WarShips out of orbit at least,” She turned back to Scythe now, “While I concede that it could be a trap, I personally feel it’s unlikely.

“Unless you’ve observed anything that you didn’t include in your reports to me, nothing about how the Clans have been operating so far suggest they are anything but direct and brutal. They know they have the numbers and the tech,” she pointed out, “so they don’t have a lot of need to orchestrate convoluted reverse-psychology entrapments.

“Again, I’m not saying the possibility doesn’t exist,” Charon repeated with an acknowledging nod towards her COO, “Just that what we stand to gain from taking this chance outways the detriments if it does turn out to be a trap. While your point about the possible cost in terms of experienced personnel isn’t without merit,” she conceded, “The fact is that Her Majesty is not going to wait forever for us to do something about this invasion. I’m certainly not going to tell her that we think the best time to confront them is when they’re knocking at our door. How about any of you?” Charon glanced around at the sea of faces that were suddenly rather hesitant to meet her gaze.

“I didn’t think so.

“We’re not exactly gambling away the whole hive with this either,” the commanding general continued after a brief moment’s pause, “We can afford to lose the quarter million combat personnel allotted to this command.”

“Will we be reinforcing with any mercenaries?” The question was asked by Major Pogrom, Charon’s personnel chief, who oversaw the staffing requirements of the command.

The general shook her head, “We will not. Not directly at least. Contracts have been drafted and assigned to shore up defenses of some of the genuinely more strategically important systems along the invasion corridor. Places that it would be...impolotique for ComSpark to garrison without raising a few eyebrows.

“The defense of Buckwheat will be entirely in the hooves of our own forces.”

Brigadier Scythe scowled now, “Then why are we being coy with our equipment? If we’re going to be the only ones on the planet, then let’s just send over a few divisions of Alhuizotls and be done with it! If we’re worried about witnesses, the planet can be harvested afterward and we’ll just blame the extermination of the local population on the Clans!” She sneered, sweeping aside the imagined population with a dismissive wave of her pocked foreleg.

“Even if we defeat the Clan forces invading Buckwheat, that doesn’t mean we’ll completely wipe out their entire invasion force,” Lumen pointed out to his fellow staff officer. “Video feeds of the fighting will get out.”

“That’s part of the plan, actually,” Charon added, catching both of her officers by surprise. Indeed, the only changeling in the room who didn’t seem to have been surprised by the news was her Chief of Communications, Colonel Daguerre, with whom this matter had already been discussed in detail. Now seemed to Charon like an adequate time to brief her other staff officers as well, since related directives had been finalized only that morning, “The Queen does not like the disquiet the Harmony Sphere is experiencing right now, as a result of the invasion. Academy attendance has dropped off significantly as influential families see the invasion steadily working its way to Equus with no sign of being stopped any time soon.

“Nopony believes that ComSpark will be able to hold off the Clan forces any better than the professional armies of the Commonwealth and the Combine are. After all,” Charon added with a sardonic smile, “ComSpark is simply a lowly little communications broker. What could we possibly know about real combat?

“Her Majesty feels that a demonstration of our force’s willingness to go out and not only meet the Clans on the field of battle, but show that ‘lowly little’ ComSpark can beat them, will initiate a resurgence in academy attendance the likes of which hasn’t been seen in decades. If we can put the Clans on the back hoof, it might also create the opening that the mercenaries need to start pushing them back. It’ll certainly buy us time to properly space out a few more ‘novel breakthroughs’ to pass out to the Sphere in order to narrow the technology gap a little.”

“We’ll stop the Clans in their tracks and pad out our larder at the same time,” Daguerre grinned at the others.

Brigadier Scythe didn’t look quite mollified yet, “We’re still going to have to find a way to beat the Clans with obsolete ‘Steeds,” she pointed out, “It’s going to be like confronting a laser rifle with a damn flint-tipped spear,” she spat.

“It’ll be challenging, but hardly that bad,” Charon said with an understanding nod, “As the defending party, we’ll have the advantage. Engineers are already mobilizing to install a whole host of nasty surprises for our guests,” She assured the brigadier, who did look a little mollified by the news, “Hidden turrets, minefields, the works. The Clans are going to pay for every inch of Buckwheat in blood.

“Then, when the dust has settled and the Clan’s invasion forces lie battered and broken on the field, we can start making our plans to rally the galaxy for a counter-attack. I’m sure Her Majesty will be willing to allow ComSpark to reveal all sorts of ‘new’ innovations to the Sphere so that their forces can be brought up to par with our enemies. Then we can throw them at the Clans in an invasion of our own!”

“We’ll be able to wipe out the last bastion of resistance to changeling dominance of the galaxy, once and for all…” The general’s hungry grin was mirrored all around the room.

The seafoam hippogriff mare sat in silent contemplation as she slowly digested the new information that had just been laid at her talons. The galaxy had seemed like a much smaller and simpler place less than an hour ago, she mused. It had certainly felt like the decisions that she’d be asked to make had possessed much more forthright answers, at least.

Thera Novo, heir to the Coordinatorship of the Hippogriff Combine and the current leader of its military in her capacity as Deputy for Military Affairs, smiled mirthlessly as she contemplated how much difference an hour could make in how one perceived the universe. She had woken up that morning with―what she had thought was―a crystal clear understanding of who the Combine’s enemies were, and what needed to be done about them. Now all of that had been thrown into question, and the Combine’s ranking military officer was faced with quite a few very difficult choices to make.

“This would have been a lot easier if your evidence wasn’t so ironclad,” Thera couldn’t keep herself from chuckling in a humorless tone. The mare glanced away from the sprawling cityscape visibles beyond the window of her office, looking over her shoulder at the broad-withered earth pony stallion standing on the other side of the desk, “I could have just dismissed it all out of claw and sent you on your way. Even now, I think I preferred my ignorance,” the last was uttered with a scowl.

“You’re not the only one who wishes this wasn’t the way things were,” Timberjack replied in a softly dejected tone of his own. The constant reports over the last several months regarding the progress―and especially the death toll―of the Clan invasions had weighed especially hard on his conscience. After all, the Clans were ‘his’ comrades. It was difficult to separate himself from their atrocities, even when he himself had no hoof in them.

He might have been able to distance himself from those feelings under most circumstances. Perhaps if it had just been Clans like Smoke Jabberwock, Ghost Ursa, and the other more belligerent groups causing all of this destruction, he could have. Unfortunately for Timberjack, Clan Timberwolf―his own Clan―was leading one of the invasion’s fronts. It was a buck to his core to see that happening; especially when his whole purpose here had been in part to help devise a way to avoid exactly this kind of broad, destructive, conquest. He’d believed in that cause.

Now he couldn’t help but feel betrayed by his own leadership.

Thera sighed, shaking her head, “You know, when all of this started, my father was convinced that Tirek had somehow returned,” The hippogriff commander said, sounding almost wistful, “That this was all being perpetrated by forces of great evil against the ‘good’ creatures of the galaxy.

“The Combine has something of a mythical regard for the CLDF forces that Admiral Spike took out of the Harmony Sphere all those centuries ago. Many of us believed he did this so that they could train and build their forces in secret, so that they could avoid being drawn into our own petty squabbles and return only when a true threat emerged.

“My father told me just last week that Admiral Spike and his ‘glorious fleets’ would be here any day now to sweep those invaders from the Sphere. A part of me believed him too,” she admitted in a sad tone, “It was a comforting hope; and we’re in desperate need of hope these days.”

She directed her piercing golden eyes at the stalwart earth pony stallion. It was almost, but not quite, a glare, “Now you’re telling me that the avenging heroes whose return we’ve been praying for to come and save us, and the monsters butchering their way across our space, are one in the same. Where exactly are we supposed to turn to for salvation now?”

“We have a plan,” Timberjack assured her, though the stallion was finding it difficult to sound as reassuring as he would have liked. Partly because there was no escaping the fact that this was yet another hastily cobbled-together ‘plan’ that had needed to be assembled after their last plan had been smothered in its metaphorical infancy by the invasion. Which was itself a diversion from the initial plan which had been in the works for hundreds of years.

This effectively meant that they were now operating on the contingency of a contingency. Which was hardly the sort of notion that inspired a lot of confidence. Thus far, Timberjack had managed to avoid explicitly bringing up the matter of the heavy reliance this new plan had on the capabilities of the Disciples of Discord. Given the intentional efforts of the group to mask their true capabilities behind a visage of incompetence and ineffectiveness, the earth pony doubted mentioning them by their more commonly known title would have done much to help his cause in this instance. Instead, he’d simply mentioned that his mercenaries would be working closely with other groups operating in the Sphere which had been embedded by the Clans just like his had been, but also disavowed the invasion decision and had pledged to work to stop it.

“I’m sure I can’t wait to hear it,” Thera scoffed. The hippogriff sat herself down at her desk and folded her talons together beneath her chin, leaning her head on them as she regarded the stallion expectantly, “By all means, enlighten me on how we’re going to do anything to stop this invasion short of trying to literally drown their forces in the blood of citizens? Because at the moment that’s about the only workable ‘strategy’ any of my advisors have been able to come up with: confronting them with so many targets that we run them out of ammunition and eventually beat them that way.”

Timberjack cringed at the very idea of such a thing. Mostly because he was sure that the Commonwealth had to be thinking along the same lines by this point. At least Victoria might soon be able to find herself getting help from the Federated Moons, giving her double the access to personnel and material than the Combine had. Hopefully that meant that she wouldn’t be forced to become quite that desperate any time soon. Though, all that likely meant was that Commonwealth and Federation soldiers would be dying in equal parts as the Clans continued to push onward.

Of course, with a little luck, it shouldn’t come to that, “The Clan issue should―hopefully―be resolved in a couple more months,” The stallion assured her. Even Timberjack wasn’t privy to all of the details of that plan. Mostly because he’d only been made aware of it a few weeks ago when Princess Twilight finally managed to make contact with him through the Disciple’s agents operating in the Sphere. It was then that he’d been given his own new marching orders on what the alicorn needed from the Combine, and any other group he could convince to cooperate, “We have something in motion that should halt their invasion.”

The hippogriff regarded him carefully for a moment as she processed what he’d just told her, “...But not drive them out?”

He winced slightly, “Our plan doesn’t call for that, no,” he admitted before hastily adding, “We honestly need them―or at least their WarShip fleets―to remain in the Sphere. At least for now.”

Thera obviously wasn’t a fan of that, “I can only assume then that you’re not here to help us execute a counter-attack to reclaim our lost territory?” She watched the stallion shake his head, feeling her frustration mounting. Somehow though, she managed to keep her tone moderately level as she asked her next question, “So what is it that you do need us for?”

If the nominal commander of the Combine’s military had been unhappy with how this meeting had gone up to this point, Timberjack imagined that she was going to be more than a little ‘put out’ by what he said next, and braced himself accordingly, “...We would like you to pull the bulk of your forces back from your front with the Clans. Especially your heaviest and more capable units. It’s important that you retain as much of your military as possible for when the time is right.”

“Oh, is that all?” She said in an almost flippant tone, though the smirk on her face was anything but amused.

“We also want you to do the same along your border with the Federated Moons.”

As he’d anticipated, that was the ‘step too far’ where Thera was concerned. The hippogriff was no longer hiding her ire behind even a veneer of propriety now as she lunged out of her seat and slammed both her clawed hands down on the table, gouging deep scars into the polished surface, “Are you out of your tiny pony mind?! You’re asking me to leave the whole Combine basically open to a wholesale invasion on all fronts!”

“The Clans aren’t going to be a problem much longer,” Timberjack began, “You must already be getting reports that they’ve stopped pushing in along your borders and have shifted their focus deeper into the Sphere.”

That fact didn’t seem to assuage the hippogriff as much as the earth pony might have hoped, “I’m also getting reports that the Federation is amassing forces along their border with us. I can only assume that First Prince Nacht isn’t too happy with his brother dying in a Highlander attack earlier this year and is looking to make his displeasure known,” Thera growled.

“I can’t pull my forces off the Federation front. If anything, I intend to reinforce it!”

“Deputy, please, I need you to understand―” Timberjack began, only to be ruthlessly cut off by the hippogriff screaming in his face.

“No! You need to understand: If you expect me to expose the Combine like that, then you need to give me one Tartarus of a good reason. All I know right now is that you don’t need my forces to fight the Clans, and it’s obviously not to stave off the Federation―so what exactly am I supposed to be holding my forces in reserve for?!”

Timberjack didn’t respond at first, which only stoked the hippogriff’s anger further. The stallion was conflicted, as he understood perfectly well that much of what little he knew about Twilight’s plan wasn’t meant to be revealed to members of the Sphere at large. If Chrysalis or her agents got even a whiff of what the Disciples were planning, then everything could be undone in an instant. Telling Thera as much as he already had about the true nature of ComSpark had been a significant risk as it was. However, it was simple enough for the hippogriff to keep such knowledge to herself, with no need to share it with other members of her staff.

On the other hoof, he could understand that her senior officers would require some sort of justification as to why the head of the Combine’s military was taking actions which left the Combine vulnerable to its enemies. Withdrawing from the front with the Clans could be explained away as an effort to conserve and gather forces for a counter-attack; but it would be much harder to use that same argument regarding the Federation, as the Combine was largely on equal military footing with them.

If Thera shared what he was about to tell her with any of her other officers, it might very well doom the whole galaxy. On the other hoof, if Timberjack couldn’t ensure that the star nations of the harmony Sphere had the forces they’d need for the last part of Twilight’s plan, then it would all be for nought anyway, wouldn’t it? If the invasion of Equus failed, Chrysalis would win no matter who knew what.

“...You’re going to invade Equus.”

Judging from the expression of blatant shock on her face, whatever response Thera might have been expecting from the earth pony, clearly that hadn’t made the list. Her slack beak worked wordlessly for several seconds before the Combine’s Deputy for Military Affairs managed to find her voice again, “You want the Combine to launch an invasion of Equus? Why, in Celestia’s name, would we ever do something like that?”

Again Timberjack hesitated. This time, however, he did choose to exercise discretion. It was one thing for her to know the target of the proposed invasion. On its own, that information slipping into the changelings’ hooves shouldn’t be enough to topple everything Twilight and the Disciples were planning. It could be dismissed as the Combine’s aging Coordinator getting reckless in his advanced age―which he arguably was. At worst, Chrysalis might have her agents manipulate a distraction of some sort. She might even wait until after the Clan threat was dealt with, which would suit him just fine anyway.

On the other hoof, Thera knowing why the Combine would be motivated to invade would undermine everything. So he elected to be vague on that point, “You’ll understand when the moment comes,” He informed her, “Trust me that you won’t need to worry about convincing your officers or your father to commit to an invasion of Equus when the moment comes. I strongly suspect that you’ll even be directed to organize it,” Timberjack flashed a sardonic smirk of his own at the hippogriff.

“What’s important is that you have the forces available to act. Which means avoiding losing as many as possible to combat for the next couple of months. Whatever worlds you lose to the Clans―or even the Federation―in that time can be retaken later. But we won’t get a second chance at defeating the changelings.”

The seafoam figure let out an annoyed grunt, receding from the earth pony and slumping back into her seat; clearly still unhappy, but no longer seething with rage. She reached up and massaged her temple with one of her talons, “Pulling back from the front with the Clans will be easy enough to justify,” she conceded reluctantly, “We’re just feeding our forces into a meat grinder in that regard anyway. But the Federation…” she shook her head, “I simply can’t do it. Not while there’s an active military build-up on their side of the fence.

“If you can get Nacht to stand down, I’ll see what I can do; but as things stand: whatever I pull off the front with the Clans will almost certainly be expected to go to the Federation border.”

Timberjack frowned, nodding along in understanding. It was hardly ideal, but it was hardly an inexcusable situation. If there was any silver lining to be found, the stallion supposed, it was that the changeling’s would hardly find it suspicious that the Combine was pulling forces away from the fight with the Clans in order to respond to a threat from one of their longtime rivals―

The earth pony jerked with sudden realization: it wouldn’t be suspicious, would it? In fact, it might be one of the least surprising shifts in its military deployment that the Combine could make under the circumstances: pulling forces away from a font that was cooling down in order to meet a more immediate threat. More than that, the Federated Moons would also be pooling much of their available military power in the same area simultaneously! Two large military forces, from two of the Successor States, primed and ready for a massive fight at a moment’s notice…

This could end up being a golden opportunity. Timberjack looked to the hippogriff, “Do it. Send whatever forces you can to the border with Federation space,” he insisted, “and while you’re at it: take the Timberwolf’s Dragoons with you under contract.”

Now it was Thera’s turn to look surprised again, “Just a minute ago you wanted me to avoid combat with Nacht; now suddenly you want to help me fight him?”

“Truth be told, I think I might be able to keep a fight from breaking out at all,” He admitted, earning a dubious look from the Deputy, “Or at least postpone it long enough for...things to happen. Things that might even put Nacht Belle off of avenging his brother for a little while.”

Thera looked even more doubtful now, “I can’t think of much that would be more important to the First Prince than that. Unless you know of another Clan invasion coming his way,” Her tone held a note of hopefulness to it. Hardly surprising, Timberjack supposed, for the hippogriff to wish that her enemies would become as ‘inconvenienced’ as her own nation was.

The earth pony continued to sit on the details however, saying only, “Oh, I’m sure you’ll understand when it happens. In the meantime, let’s discuss my hiring fee for the contract you’re going to be taking out today. Don’t worry, I’m willing to give you quite a bargain, given the circumstances…”

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