“So, is it just me, or are we not getting shot at as much as we thought we’d be?”

One could be forgiven for thinking that Xanadu was tempting fate with his comment, and that it was never a good idea to question when a mission was running unexpectedly smoothly. Under most circumstances, Slipshod would also have held that opinion and told the zebra pilot to bite his tongue and be thankful that they weren’t having to fight tooth and hoof for every kilometer of progress that they were making towards Ponyville.

However, in this instance, the striped stallion had a point: there was an inexplicable shortage of resistance being encountered on their trip. Indeed, with every passing minute that something didn’t happen, Slipshod found himself getting progressively more nervous about it.

This wasn’t right.

Their truncated column of thirteen BattleSteeds was less than two hundred kilometers from Canterlot, one of the most heavily fortified and patrolled areas on the whole planet. Two major cities had recently been invaded and captured in the region that could not be allowed to remain in the hooves of enemy forces, as those cities would allow the invaders to support massive assaults on the capital itself.

By all rights, every changeling in the region should be mobilizing and rallying to launch counter attacks to take back those cities as quickly as possible, drawing in forces from every garrison, firebase, and lookout tower, within a thousand kilometers. This whole area should be swarming―literally―with ComSpark soldiers, to the point where their company was at least occasionally stumbling across some group of changelings, if only by accident.

Yet, somehow, they had inexplicably encountered no resistance whatsoever. It was uncanny. In fact, the only way that Slipshod could explain such a phenomenon rationally was that the ComSpark forces in the area were intentionally avoiding them. But that hardly made any sense either. If their position was known, then so too was their heading and intended destination; and it would have been the height of tactical folly to allow them to get within striking distance of the comm relay located at Ponyville. It was of too much strategic importance to put at risk by letting them get close enough to shoot at it. Even an incompetent commander would be trying to intercept them well short of their destination, if only because that was just sort of what you were supposed to do when you knew where the enemy was: send forces out to fight them!

But, here they were, trotting across the wilderness completely unmolested by changelings.

“It’s not just you,” Slipshod assured the other pilot, “they’re avoiding us. I couldn’t tell you why though.”

“They could be waiting to spring a trap,” Triton chimed in. The aging hippogriff Reiver’s Queen Novo striding in line with Slipshod’s borrowed Rainbow Dash at the head of their group.

The changeling stallion considered the layout of the terrain along their intended route towards Ponyville. He’d entertained the possibility of an ambush for some time, but they’d already passed through the areas where it would have been most advantageous for ComSpark to launch one. Between here and their destination, there wasn’t anywhere that a force could be staged to lie in wait that their group wouldn’t be able to detect far enough out to avoid. At worst, all ComSpark could hope to do was scare them off by showing up with overwhelming numbers.

While that would effectively save their relay tower in Ponyville, it was a strategically poor use of resources, as it would tie up at least a full battalion of ‘Steeds and combat vehicles just to divert one company of attackers. Those would become forces that couldn’t be used to help take back Baltimare or Fillydelphia, because the moment they left, Slipshod and the Reivers would just move in on Ponyville again. Heck, factoring in the larger Disciple group that would be meeting them for the assault on Ponyville, it was more likely that ComSpark would need to keep a couple full regiments in the area. Slipshod knew roughly how large a total force typically existed in this part of the continent at any time, and it was highly doubtful that ComSpark could afford to keep so many of their ‘Steeds tied down guarding this relay and take back the held cities at the same time.

The smarter move would have been to ambush their little company on the way, completely crushing them, before moving on to hit the larger Disciple force. A classic ‘defeat in detail’ strategy. Slipshod had honestly been expecting exactly that sort of occurrence, and so had had a couple of their lighter ‘Steeds out pretty far ahead of their main body to serve as scout/pickets. But the expected ambush had never come, and now they were less than an hour away from their anticipated rendezvous with friendly forces and making their assault on the ComSpark relay.

“They’re up to something,” Slipshod conceded, still frowning at the navigational map. “I wish I knew what though…” The more the changeling stallion tried to imagine what was going through the minds of the ComSpark commanders, the more frustrated he became as he failed to make sense of it all. Either there was something extremely important that he was overlooking that was keeping him from seeing the bigger picture, or their opponents really were a bunch of imcompotent buffoons.

Unfortunately, Slipshod knew for a fact that it wasn’t the latter. Which meant that he was the one doing something stupid, and he just didn’t know what it was yet. Something had to be out there waiting for them, and if they didn’t see it coming in time, they were going to be utterly fucked.

“Xanax, go relieve Reiver Three. I want some fresh eyes up there.”

“Roger that; moving out,” the striped stallion acknowledged. His Philomena sprinted ahead as the zebra took his ‘Steed out to the point position of their formation.

Slipshod turned his attention back to the map once more, plotting out the locations of nearby bases and their typical garrison complements. Even if ninety percent of everything that they usually held had been called forward to participate in the reclaiming of the two cities that had been seized, there should have been enough of a force left over in the area to at least make a respectable showing. Maybe not anything that would be instantly overwhelming, but a large enough force that a commander would have been inclined to at least try to stop their company.

It was highly unlikely that any local commander would be comfortable sitting on their flank, waiting for them to attack Ponyville, only to be later faced with having to answer to Queen Chrysalis why they’d sat back and done nothing to stop them. Trying and failing wasn’t always a good look either, admittedly; but those commanders would have at least been able to point to the fact that they’d been forced to operate with inferior forces after the rest had been redirected towards Baltimare and Fillydelphia. Laying the manticore’s share of the blame at the hooves of those commanders who’d lost control of those cities, while they themselves had valiantly tried to protect Her Majesty’s interests in spite of the odds stacked against them.

The fact that something like that hadn’t happened did suggest that there was something larger at play, but it still didn’t provide the answer as to what that ‘something larger’ could be. There just weren’t the forces available on such short notice to pull off anything big. Not if the changelings wanted to get those cities back, and the spaceports in them that were the linchpin of this invasion. If they took back even one of those cities, then it functionally didn’t matter if the Ponyville relay was taken out, because there wouldn’t be much left of an invasion anymore anyway. Meanwhile, saving the relay wouldn’t necessarily mean that the assault on Canterlot would fail, just that it would be easier for ComSpark to coordinate the defense of the capital…

…A defense which would suddenly be found understrength, with so many of those forces tied down in Ponyville. In which case, they’d arguably be better off letting the relay be destroyed!

What was ComSpark up to?!

Slipshod received his answer a few minutes later when he received a transmission from Xanadu, “Hey, Bug, I’ve got something on sensors.”

The changeling stallion bolted upright on his piloting couch, his gaze darting instantly to his own sensor display, which showed the collective shared data of their whole augmented BattleSteed company. He’d expected to see that the zebra had made contact with the forward elements of the force meant to ambush them, but instead found that there was only a single, and extremely weak, signal. Not only that, but it appeared that the signal in question was well outside of what should have been the typical detection range for Xanadu’s ‘Steed. Given the faintness of the contact, it actually shouldn’t have been possible for the striped stallion to have noticed it at all,

“How’d you find that?” Slipshod asked, the surprise preventing him from masking all of his incredulity.

“Kind of by chance, actually.” The zebra admitted somewhat sheepishly. “I thought to myself: what would be a good place to spy on us from? Then I narrowed my sensor field and focused it in. That’s when I found this.”

The changeling pilot did some rough estimates in his head, based on the strength of the signal and the distance it was from Xanadu’s Philomena. He realized that the zebra would have had to trim his sensors down to a detection angle of a little under twelve degrees in order to have the sensitivity to pick out such a small signal from among the ambient background noise. Tightening up a band like that was really only something that one did when they already had a general idea for the direction of their target in the first place.

Admittedly, the location of this contact was one that was ideal for some sort of low-profile observation of their group. So it would make sense to search there if what one was looking for was low-profile observers. However, Slipshod could also identify a score of other perfectly suitable locations that would have served that purpose. The idea that Xanadu could have gotten to his position, adjusted his sensors, and searched through a decent number of those locations in just a couple of minutes was…far fetched.

“You just…found this?”

Slipshod inwardly winced. He wasn’t sure why he was being so wary. There was no reason to believe that Xanadu was lying, or that this was any sort of convoluted scheme of some sort. The changeling supposed that he was just a little higher strung than usual, given the situation. It was honestly something of a relief to have evidence that ComSpark wasn’t entirely overlooking them.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Xanadu said, now sounding like he also realized how questionable the situation had to seem. “I sort of…I don’t know how to describe it,” he admitted, seeming to be a little annoyed with his own ability to articulate what he’d been feeling, “You know how you get all prickly on the back of your neck when you think you’re being watched? It was like that. I felt like that hill was watching me.

“Turns out I was right. Computer profile says it’s a Swift Wind. Somepony’s keeping an eye on us. Want me to chase it off?”

Slipshod turned his mind from the unlikely nature of the find to considering the significance of the detected vehicle. There’d be time to question the zebra later about the prickliness of his neck and his absurdly keen intuition.

A Swift Wind was an extremely capable reconnaissance vehicle, and it made sense that one would be used to seek out any approaching units. It also helped to explain why they hadn’t even inadvertently come across any ComSpark units in the area. That little scout was more than capable enough of warning any unwary groups away from the area if it looked like they’d be easy prey for the Reiver company. There were probably a couple such vehicles watching the Disciple group they were meeting with too.

Fundamentally, this didn’t really change all that much about their situation. It wasn’t like Slipshod hadn’t already assumed ComSpark knew where they were anyway and was preparing accordingly. Keeping tabs on known enemy forces was a fairly standard principle, and didn’t necessarily mean that an ambush was more or less likely.

There also wasn’t much that they could do about it. As their name implied: the little ground vehicles were notoriously fast, even offroad. Xanadu’s ‘Steed couldn’t hope to actually catch the thing. At most, he could scare it back a few kilometers, but only if he kept close to it, and far away from the rest of the company. Slipshod didn’t care for that idea much. There was no telling whether or not that Swift Wind had any friends nearby, and if the zebra pilot got far enough out, it might take too long to respond if he was attacked.

Although…

Slipshod studied the local topography. As he’d noted, there were quite a few hills in the area that made for good vantage points for scouts. Which meant that there were also a significant number of gullies between those hills. A couple of them were even deep enough to keep a ‘Steed out of line of sight. If he was careful, quick, and kept his emissions low, it was feasible that he could sneak in close enough to the Swift Wind to get the drop on them. If they managed to capture the driver they might be able to gather some information of their own.

“No. Don’t approach. Don’t act like you know where they are. I’ll take care of them.

“Triton: keep the column moving. No deviations.”

Slipshod then deactivated his active sensors and turned off a couple other secondary systems, to include disarming the Rainbow Dash’s energy weapons. Charged PPCs were hard to miss for sensitive sensors, and it wasn’t like he was going to need them to capture an unarmed scout. Once he’d managed to make the seventy ton, bright blue and gold, BattleSteed as ‘stealthy’ as he could, the changeling charged down through the nearest gully.

He was forced to follow a bit of a meandering path in order to ensure that he kept terrain higher than the height of the Rainbow Dash between himself and the target, but eventually Slipshod was able to close within a couple kilometers of the Swift Wind, which still appeared to be unaware of his presence. That was going to come to an end soon though. There wasn’t going to be any reasonable way for him to get closer without being detected. The moment that happened, the Swift Wind’s operator was going to try and make a run for it.

Under most circumstances, they’d have a better than even chance of getting away too. The light scout craft was renowned for its speed and mobility, and could move at speeds significantly higher than even the Rainbow Dash was capable of. In fact, Slipshod could only think of one or two light BattleSteeds that could compete with a Swift Wind, and that was only if they were stripped down and had oversized reactors stuffed inside of them. So there was a good possibility that he wouldn’t be able to catch the scout. If that looked like it was going to be the case, the changeling stallion resolved to ensure it was destroyed before it got out of range.

Despite the imbalance where raw speed was concerned, Slipshod did have a couple of advantages: they were on rough terrain at the moment, and not paved city streets. The Swift Wind was going to be forced to move a little slower than it might have been able to on ideal surfaces in order to avoid flipping over. Meanwhile, BattleSteeds didn’t really suffer much at all running over hills and such when compared to how they handled paved level surfaces. It was one of the tactical advantages that a ‘Steed had over a comparably armed combat vehicle. He also had jump jets, which could provide him with bursts of forward speed for short periods. If he times them right, the changeling estimated that he actually had a daily good chance of cutting off the wheeled truck and forcing a surrender of its occupant.

Slipshod took a deep breath, flexing his hooves as they rested around the control yokes. Capturing the changeling in that Swift Wind was probably going to be his only shot at finding out what ComSpark was up to. It was clear that there was something going on, and he really didn’t like the implications where the invasion was concerned.

“Just don’t fuck this up,” Slipshod murmured to himself. That thought firmly in mind, the changeling reengaged his ‘Steed’s active sensors so that he had an easier time tracking the Swift Wind, and then charged forward at a full gallop.

To the ComSpark driver’s credit, they obviously hadn’t gotten complacent even after spending what had likely been hours watching the Reiver group. Their signal started to move almost as soon as the Rainbow Dash’s active sensors powered on. However, as he’d anticipated, they weren’t able to travel nearly as quickly as their rated top speed might have suggested, having trouble finding solid traction on the dusty hillsides. Meanwhile, Slipshod’s ‘Steed wasn’t missing a step as it ran towards the little scout car.

That wasn’t to say that the Swift Wind was exactly moving slowly though. Even when reduced to a little more than half its possible top speed, the vehicle would have been able to outpace every heavy-tonnage BattleSteed in the Harmony Sphere, and they seemed to be managing a bit more than that at the moment. Of course, the Rainbow Dash he was in was faster than a typical heavy ‘Steed. When everything was said and done, Slipshod estimated that they were just about evenly matched in regards to their effective average velocity.

It was a good thing that he wasn’t exclusively dependent on his BattleSteed’s speed then, Slipshod thought to himself with a grin as he leaped into the air and gunned the jump jets. The resulting bounding leap sent the Rainbow Dash soaring over the Swift Wind. The driver noticed this but the move must have caught them by surprise, because when they tried to veer off, they ended up oversteering and sent the scout car into a skid. They ended up losing just about all of their speed, their wheels spinning as they fought for purchase on the soft ground.

Slipshod capitalized on the other changeling’s predicament as soon as his ‘Steed landed, reaching out with one of its forehooves and planting it solidly on the top of the Swift Wind. The little truck’s suspension, which was rated to support little else besides the eight ton vehicle and a little additional cargo, squealed and protested as additional weight was suddenly added to it. Soon enough there were several distressing snapping and cracking sounds as every single one of its six tie rods and shocks sheared off beneath the added stress. A second later, the transmission cut out in response to losing connection with the truck’s wheels. The scout was disabled.

As an added bonus, when Slipshod removed the Rainbow Dash’s forehoof, he noted that the vehicle’s transmitter had also been left a little more than a crumpled up saucer of aluminum. The driver wasn’t going to be making any further reports, and had likely been too focused on trying to get away to have previously gotten off much more than a message letting their superiors know they’d been discovered and were trying to flee.

“I got it!” Slipshod announced over his radio to the others. “Rally up for a bit while I see if we can learn anything.”

“You should wait until we get there,” Triton cautioned. “They could still be dangerous.”

“Of course they’re dangerous; they’re a changeling,” the stallion quipped even as he set about unfastening himself from his piloting couch. “But so am I. I’ll be fine.”

“Didn’t you almost die the last time you fought another changeling?” Xanadu pointed out.

“Details,” Slipshod muttered as he popped off his helmet and opened the hatch. He emerged just in time to find that the Swift Wind’s driver was of a similar mind, scrambling out of their vehicle in an attempt to flee.

“Oh no you don’t…” Slipshod snarled as he jumped off the Rainbow Dash’s head. A halo of jade flames passed over his body as he fell through the air, and out the other end of the fiery ring flew a teal-feathered griffon. Powerful swings of his wings sent him darting after the retreating ComSpark changeling.

They glanced over their shoulder, easily spotting their pursuer. Slipshod felt shock and surprise at first, followed soon after by a glimmer of concern as they saw the griffon gaining on them, followed quickly by determination to escape. They underwent a transformation of their own, an orange hippogriff popping out of their short-lived cocoon of magical fire. It was a subtle thing, but Slipshod noticed the slight, sputtery, quality of those flames. His sharp griffon eyes allowed him to also pick out the subtly sickly appearance of their newly assumed flying form. It looked almost malnourished.

It was then that Slipshod recalled that it had been months since the last time any group of prospective academy applicants would have arrived in Faust. Which meant that the planet’s supply of fresh creatures to drain would also have been used up weeks ago. Near the end, there probably would have been rationing too. A lowly scout like this one wouldn’t have been anywhere near the top of a priority list. Who knew when the last time they’d had a decent meal might have been.

They weren’t quite ‘starving’, Slipshod acknowledged. The Queen would be using some of the reserves that she’d built up over the centuries to keep that from happening―Chrysalis was hardly about to risk her ‘valiant defenders’ dying off before she could use them as fodder to protect her from Twilight and the Dragon Clans. However, it was clear that this changeling’s transformed forms weren’t going to be as tough as they might have been if they’d been properly fed. Unlike his fight with Dee, who had been enjoying the benefits of living among a crew who were unerringly appreciative of their ship’s doctor.

This was unlikely to prove to be nearly as harrowing a fight as that one had been, Slipshod realized with some measure of relief.

He caught up to the hippogriff quickly enough. He didn’t immediately attack though, instead electing to perform a mid-air somersault. In the middle of it, Slipshod transformed once more, emerging as a great eyeder. The two meter long arachnid continued its tumble through the sky, throwing out a line of webbing as it did so. He heard the hippogriff hen let out a surprised yell, followed by the sound of frantic fluttering and curses just as his new wingless form began to fall back to earth.

Another burst of flames and a stout minotaur crashed to the ground, grunting under the effort of trying not to land too hard on his knees. His powerful hands kept firm hold of the end of sticky rope-like material clutched in his grasp. The hippogriff tangled in the far end of the webbing continued to flap and squawk in frustration, like a misbehaving kite trying to escape its line.

Slipshod grit his teeth and set his hooves. The minotaur took a deep breath, and launched into a powerful spin with its torso, heaving the line of eyeder web with all of his might. The line went taut, followed soon after by a surprised chirp from the ensnared hen, who soon found herself being flung around in a wide circle. Not for very long though, unfortunately for her. Because once Slipshod felt that he’d taken the slack out of the web, he adjusted his grip, briefly arcing the line downward, and then shifting to an up-and-over motion.

The result was that the whirling hippogriff at the end of the sticky rope of webbing found herself going from a wide, circular, orbit around the minotaur, to being flung upwards into the air…and then right back down out of it. The hen let out a shocked, “Eep―!” that was cut off by their sudden impact with the ground, along with their attempted transformation that also hadn’t been able to complete in time.

When the dust kicked up by their impact cleared, Slipshod could see that he now had a timberwolf at the other end of his webbing. Or, at least, some of the pieces to one. The lips of his muzzle pulled back into a sneer as he let out an amused snort. Clever. He let go of the end of the web that he was still holding, flinging the sticking rope away with a flick of his wrist, and began purposefully making his way towards the pile of sticks and twigs that were already starting to clump back together into a vaguely canine shape.

The timberwolf had only managed to mostly reform by the time Slipshod was standing over them. The minotaur reached out with a hand to grab the lumber lupine. By the time it got there, another shimmer of changeling transformative fire had altered the limb from one covered in fur with keratin-tipped fingers to an arm adorned in crimson scales and hands capped by claws. The dragon grabbed the timberwolf by its throat and pinned it to the ground on its back. The cedar canine let out a pained yelp, but managed to get out a defiant snarl soon after.

Slipshod let out a roar of his own in response, allowing a little bit of dragonflame escape his mouth as he did so. The timberwolf went silent now, staring up at him. He saw the challenge in its eyes, but he could also sense the fear within them that simply refused to be masked completely. Just below that though, were the embers of that initial shock and surprise that he’d felt from them when this changeling had seen him exit the Rainbow Dash. It made a certain amount of sense, Slipshod supposed. It’s not like Clans utilized a lot of changelings of their own, now was it?

“Make yourself something less flammable,” Slipshod instructed them, “with a lot more chitin.” The timberwolf didn’t revert to its natural form, continuing to regard him with its defiant stare. Annoyed by their unwillingness to concede what was obviously a lost fight, the dragon let out a warning gout of flame that―lightly―singed the timberwolf’s snout.

The pinned canine yelped in pain. Then, after another fierce glare, it obediently reverted back into a changeling. The chitinous mare dressed in the barding of a ComSpark soldier sneered up at him. Determined to appear brave, in spite of her fear and confusion...and more fear, Slipshod realized.

The dragon cocked his head as he found himself experiencing a little mild confusion of his own. This other changeling was experiencing two separate and distinct sources of fear. The first was obvious, as she was a changeling being pinned by a dragon the size of a Clan Elemental who could incinerate her with one good cough. She’d have to be crazy to not be afraid.

It was the other source of fear that was puzzling Slipshod now though. This feeling wasn’t primal, it was professional. She felt like she’d done something wrong―very wrong―and she was terrified of what her superiors were going to do to her when they found out. At first, Slipshod thought that it had to do with the fact that she’d allowed herself to be discovered and captured. That was certainly unlikely to reflect favorably on her career―assuming that she had one when this invasion was over. However, he found himself doubting this hypothesis, when he probed that feeling a bit more deeply and discovered that it was inextricably linked to her confusion regarding his presence.

Whatever she’d done wrong, it involved him; and it wasn’t because he’d caught her. He’d felt that confusion before she’d been caught, and it had been carrying with it the seeds of this fear even then, he realized. Slipshod leaned in closer to the changeling mare, peering deep into her eyes as he reached out with his empathic senses towards the ComSpark soldier. He needed to know what it was that had her so afraid and surprised. There shouldn’t have been much cause for the latter especially, since she’d been watching them for hours.

Seeming to realize that she was being probed, the mare instantly threw up as many emotional barriers as she could manage and turned away from him. Like her transformations, however, these barriers proved to not be as solid as they might otherwise have been if she were properly fed with love and other strong emotions. While it wouldn’t be quite fair to say that it was easy for him to pierce them, Slipshod did manage to erode them enough to continue to get accurate readings on her.

Now he just needed to trigger some additional reactions from the other changeling to help flesh out the precise nature of those feelings, “You’re surprised to see me,” he murmured aloud, studying her features closely even as he pressed in around her mind, “but ComSpark knows that I’m with the Clans,” he pointed out. “They know I’m the one that helped Twilight escape to Clan territ―”

He cut himself off. There’d been a reaction to the alicorn’s name. The same fear reaction that was connected to his presence. There was shame too. A wound to her professional pride as a scout. She’d fallen short of her own performance expectations. She’d made a mistake. A big one. A mistake that she knew she’d be severely punished for, and rightly so in her estimation.

After all, she’d been wrong…

“...Wrong about what?” Slipshod pressed on, not actually expecting a verbal response from the other changeling. It was enough to feel her wince as she realized that he was still getting a read on her emotional reactions, in spite of her attempts to block him out. He could feel her redoubling her efforts to wall off her mind, but those efforts were undermined by her heightened anxiety as a result of realizing she was inadvertently feeding the enemy information. The result was that her barriers actually became more porous as she started losing focus. “Wrong about Twilight; but how? Twilight’s not even here―” The dragon balked, realization dawning. “She’s not here.” Slipshod glanced briefly back over his shoulder at the Rainbow Dash still standing idle in the distance. Xanadu’s Philomena was watching over it already, and the other Reiver ‘Steeds were visible in the distance.

He looked back at the pinned changeling mare, “You thought you were tracking Twilight,” he realized, a note of bemusement in his voice. “You thought you were reporting on Twilight’s location!” He let out a little snort. It made sense. It was Twilight’s personal BattleSteed, after all. ComSpark could hardly have been expected to know that the alicorn had been forced to sit out the opening deployments of the invasion. They would have continued to assume that she was an active participant, and so would have been keen to follow the movements of ‘her’ ‘Steed.

“Obviously Her Majesty would want to know where the princess is,” Slipshod reasoned, “and how close she was getting to Canterlot…”

It had been just a flicker. The barest hint of an underlying emotion; and he’d almost missed it. Indeed, he would have if this other changeling had been better fed and able to adequately hide her emotions. He hadn’t missed it though. This changeling’s satisfaction at the thought of Twilight getting closer to Canterlot. It had bordered on smugness.

This changeling wanted Twilight to be closer to Canterlot. Why? Surely that would be the last thing that Chrysalis would want. Twilight was easily the one being in the whole galaxy that the changeling queen feared above all else―even if she’d never admit it. The alicorn who had eluded her for five hundred years. The mare who had bested her multiple times in the past, and who was the most likely to know how to best her yet again. By all rights, Chrysalis should want Twilight kept as far away from her as possible!

So then why would this changeling be feeling mirth at the thought of Twilight getting closer?!

And why would she be frustrated to learn that he was actually the one piloting the Rainbow Dash?

Triton’s Novo was trotting up to their position now. In his head, the changeling heard the hippogriff’s earlier concerns: “They could be waiting to spring a trap…”

Slipshod’s eyes went wide. It was a trap. Ponyville was a trap! They ‘knew’ that ‘Twilight’ was on her way there, and so they were setting up an ambush to take her out of the fight―

No. There was more to it than that, the ‘Steed pilot realized. It wasn’t Chrysalis’ style. At least, not the ‘killing Twilight’ part. As terrified of the purple alicorn as the changeling queen might be, her own sense of personal pride reigned supreme above all else. Her internalized sense of superiority that needed to be fed constantly. She hadn’t kept three alicorns alive in the dungeons of Canterlot all these centuries because she was averse to killing her enemies after all.

No, Chrysalis would want Twilight taken alive too. After all, if Twilight was dead, then the changeling queen wouldn’t be able to gloat to her face about how obviously superior she was to the fallen purple princess. She’d want to spend another five hundred years showing the former ruler of the Celestia League what was being done to the inhabitants of the Harmony Sphere.

Slipshod felt a shudder work its way down his spine as he considered how large a force the queen was likely to organize in order to capture Twilight. It was certain to be more than large enough to completely obliterate whatever group was being sent to take out the relay in Ponyville. Which meant that they needed to call off the attack, and now!

He was in the middle of cursing himself for leaving his helmet and its integrated radio suite in his ‘Steed when he noticed that Triton had also left his cockpit. The former Reiver general was gliding in, a rifle held firmly in his talons and at the ready. The barrel drifted cautiously between the pinned changeling and the dragon standing over her, as he was seemingly initially unsure of who was who.

Slipshod smirked. “Chimicherry,” he said over his shoulder towards the hippogriff.

“Cherrychanga.” Triton relaxed visibly at the dragon’s use of the prearranged passphrase, the rifle moving back now to focus exclusively on the other changeling on the ground. “Nice catch.”

“Thanks. I need your radio,” Slipshod informed the hippogriff. “We need to call off the attack on Ponyville. It’s a trap. They thought Twilight was going to be there and arranged for a ‘surprise’.”

Triton winced, instantly recognizing the implication. If ComSpark thought that one of the most powerful alicorn’s who’d ever lived was going to be showing up to Ponyville, then it was unlikely that they were going to ambush their group with anything less than a full division or two of BattleSteeds and support units. Which would have been enough firepower to obliterate the battalion or so of Disciple ‘Steeds on their way there with just a single salvo. Maybe two if their aim was off on the first one. He activated his radio, “This is Reiver Actual. I have a priority message for The Admiral. We have a problem…”

Star Admiral Cinder massaged her brow in an attempt to dispel the latest wave of fatigue that was assaulting her. She’d barely slept at all in the last forty-eight hours, and the dragoness highly doubted that she’d be permitted an opportunity for any decent rest in the next forty-eight hours either. The fact that she’d had nothing to drink that wasn’t coffee so strong that it may as well have been damp coffee grounds hadn’t seemed to help matters much. Her ship’s doctor was also side-eying her every time she asked for another stimulant.

The cobalt dragoness had no doubt that what she was putting herself through was far from healthy but, at the same time, there wasn’t much help for it. She had a fleet to manage, and a planetary invasion to oversee. The situation was simply far too critical for her to take an eight hour long break and just hope that nothing went wrong before she woke up again. She had to be ready to respond to any change in circumstance at a moment’s notice. Even if she was feeling a little tired at the time.

Too much was at stake.

One of her staff officer’s approached, holding out a datapad. “The latest loss reports for the initial landings, Admiral,” the lieutenant said.

Cinder nodded, accepting the pad. She dismissed the junior officer and glanced over the aggregate tallies. A few dozen DropShips hadn’t made it to the surface, with all hooves aboard being lost. Tragic, to be sure, but overall an acceptable number given the scale of the landings involved. Likewise, their losses on the ground weren’t nearly as grievous as she’d feared they might be. The changelings only had so many dedicated military forces in Equus, and they couldn’t have known ahead of time precisely where the landings would occur. Meanwhile, the combined forces of the Clans and the Sphere had been able to choose their insertion points based upon what they’d seen when they entered orbit of the planet, giving themselves a distinct advantage.

The real test, however, would be coming in the next few hours, the star admiral knew. Now that the changelings knew where the landings had taken place, and what sized forces they were dealing with, they could plan their counter-attacks. When those inevitably came, it would be the invaders who were on the back hoof. They were bound to take more losses then, both numerically and proportionally. Hopefully, enough of them would survive for what came next. Otherwise, this was all going to have been for nothing.

The dragoness scrolled through the rest of the report, skimming over the detailed breakdowns of which ships and units had been lost so far. A few of the names she recognized from her own force roster. Others had been part of the groups that one of the three Great Houses had brought along. She made a note to send messages to them to get a better idea of how integral any of those units might have been to their own operational planning.

At least it didn’t look like the Clans were going to be impeded too much by what had been lost―

Cinder paused in her scrolling as one DropShip caught her eye. She looked up, searching for the lieutenant who had brought her the pad and summoned him back to her. “This ship here,” the dragoness said, pointing the name out to the junior officer, “do we know the details on when and how it went down?”

The younger dragon lieutenant peered at the name and then brought out a pad of his own, digging through the originals of the reports which he had aggregated for the admiral. “It looks like we lost contact with that ship some time between its first and second drop,” he told her. “The Elementals they were supposed to drop off never radioed in to confirm they were in position, and the ship never returned to the Rockhoof for their second payload. They’re presumed destroyed.”

“How?”

The other officer scanned through his pad some more, frowning before finally shaking his head and admitting, “we’re not sure. Several other DropShips reported being intercepted by ComSpark aerospace fighters though. Usually single fighters or pairs. Nothing substantial.”

Cinder’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why weren’t the DropShips given fighter cover during their drops if the changelings still had air assets?” She demanded, her tone bordering on accusatory.

“Y-you ordered all our fighters to soften up ground targets around Canterlot, ma’am,” the younger officer stammered, sounding unsure of how to appropriately respond, as it felt like he was effectively being criticized for following her orders as they’d been given. “Besides, the fighter interceptions were very sparse and light. It doesn’t look like ComSpark really had dedicated air wings left to resist us with. They were just throwing whatever they had left in their hangars into the air. It wasn’t anything that our DropShips couldn’t handle.”

Cinder cursed under her breath, mentally berating herself for lashing out at her staff officer as well. He was completely correct of course: she had been apprised of the possibility that the changelings could still have some aerospace assets left on the planet, but that it couldn’t be more than a few scattered squadrons of whatever hadn’t been worth committing to the earlier interceptions. She’d elected to not hold any of their own remaining fighters in reserve, allocating them to close support roles in order to give their landing forces the best possible chance of securing their objectives, since they were going to be invading with far fewer troops than they’d initially hoped.

Even if some of their DropShips were approached by ComSpark fighters, Friendship and Princess-class DropShips were pretty robust and well armed against light interceptors. They shouldn’t have been in any serious danger.

The Zathura hadn’t been one of those larger and tougher classes of DropShip though. She’d been a much lighter and more lightly armed vessel. It was entirely plausible that even a few small fighters could overpower her. The star admiral took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. Besides, “you said that they went down after making their first drop-off?”

Her staff officer nodded vigorously, relieved that his admiral no longer seemed to be angry with him. Cinder mulled over the information as she looked back at the report in her claws. That was what was important, the dragoness supposed. The ship and the platoon of Elementals were a very minor loss, in the grand scheme of things. What was far more important was that Twilight Sparkle had been safely delivered to the surface. Far too much of their current plan hinged on her being in the right place at the right time. If she’d been killed before landing…

The dragoness let out a long, slow, breath to calm her nerves. Their plan would still work. “Thank you, lieutenant. Dismissed.”

The staff officer went rigidly to attention and retreated from the star admiral with noticeably more haste than he had the first time after delivering his report to her. Cinder massaged her temple once more, inwardly chiding herself for letting her fatigue get the best of her again. She’d known perfectly well why the Zathura wouldn’t have had fighter escorts. She’d just been overreacting out of fear that her and Twilight’s plan had come unwound before it had even begun. Fortunately, it seemed like things would still be able to proceed.

Of course, now the dragoness found herself faced with another, albeit far lesser consideration: did she wait to tell Twilight about what had happened to the DropShip after it had dropped her off? Cinder was aware that the alicorn princess had grown attached to the ship’s crew. She hadn’t left them for a larger DropShip and escort when Cinder had offered it prior to leaving Lameduck. There was no doubt in Cinder’s mind that Twilight would want to know what had happened to them.

But that didn’t mean that it was wise to tell her about it now. There was still a lot that lay ahead of them, and it wouldn’t help the alicorn, or the other ‘Steed pilots with her from that ship, to learn that all of their crewmates were dead. There was a strong argument to be made for waiting until everything was over with, so as not to risk introducing any distractions that could compromise performance. Twilight might be mad at her later for withholding the news, but that was something the dragoness could live with. Meanwhile, the star admiral couldn’t see much of anything that could be gained by telling Twilight now.

That seemed to settle the matter, Cinder thought to herself as she set down the datapad. She’d let Twilight carry on with the mission to Ponyville, none the wiser about the fate of the Zathura. The alicorn needed to retain her focus on the mission, and especially on the confrontation that was to come.

The star admiral asked for another pot of coffee to be brought to the flag bridge. She had just poured herself a fresh cup when she was alerted to the incoming message for her from the surface. Initially, she was annoyed, as such a thing was usually an indicator that a complication had arisen. After all, none of the commanders on the ground would be calling directly to her to report that things were proceeding on schedule. Those updates tended to make their way up through the proper chain of command and wind up on her datapad in the form of written reports.

That annoyance transitioned quickly into concern and apprehension when she learned that it was Triton who was calling for her. Anything affecting the group he was with was of particular concern, as it had a direct effect on the plan in place to end this invasion quickly and decisively. More importantly: why was it the hippogriff and not Twilight herself making this call? Cinder found herself immediately concerned about the alicorn’s status as she accepted the transmission.

“This is The Admiral,” she said, her tone containing a thin edge to it as her mind raced with progressively less appealing reasons why the former Red Reiver was the one calling her, “what’s your status?”

“There’s been a complication.” Triton informed her, instantly ratcheting up the dragoness’ anxiety, “It looks like the changelings are going to be waiting for us in Ponyville. In force. We need to call off this part of the attack and reassess.”

Cinder blinked. She was both annoyed and confused now; though those feelings did help to push her earlier anxiety off to the side for the moment. It actually took the star admiral a moment to remember why this information might have been of concern to the hippogriff, as he hadn’t been involved in the planning of the invasion for either the initial, or the revised phases. It was a little odd that Twilight hadn’t thought to clue him in to more of the details by now though. Which was a thought that served to only further confuse the dragoness and pose a more important question: Why wasn’t Twilight the one calling her?

“Put the princess on the line,” she instructed the hippogriff.

“She’s not here. She stayed on the DropShip.”

The entire deck of the flag bridge fell out from beneath her. At least, that was what it felt like to the star admiral when she’d heard Triton’s response. Her whole brain ceased to function as it struggled to process that revelation. Indeed, her insistent denial prompted her to respond with, “Twilight is where? Why didn’t she get off?!”

“She was injured during the battle over the moon,” Triton explained. “It wasn’t anything serious, but she needed to be sedated for a while and wasn’t able to make the drop―”

Cinder was no longer listening to the hippogriff as she searched frantically around the flag bridge for the officer who’d given her the report earlier about the Zathura being shot down, “Find the Zathura! I want to know everything about where that ship was and what happened to it!” When she found that all she was met with were uncomprehending stares, she roared: “Now!”

The room instantly erupted into a flurry of activity as every other officer on the flag bridge began reviewing reports and making calls seeking additional details from the sources who had reported on the DropShip’s loss of contact. Finding that ship had just become the single highest priority of the war effort. Cinder turned back to the datapad in her hand and was about to ask Triton for additional information, only to find that, in her panic, the dragoness had managed to completely crush the fragile device with her claws.

She flung the mangled plastic rectangle away with a snarl. “And get me another pad!”

Squelch was aware of somepony speaking nearby. She couldn’t decipher what they were saying, it was like they were separated by a door, or at least a thin wall. It was annoying. Not her inability to comprehend the words, she couldn’t have cared less what was being talked about in another room at the moment. Rather, what was bothering her was that the volume of the words being spoken was impeding her ability to sleep. And the unicorn desperately wanted to sleep.

Why couldn’t whoever it was that was talking take their conversation somewhere else? It wasn’t like they had to talk so loudly right outside the door to her personal cabin. Didn’t they know that their commander needed her rest? After all, she was so tired that she’d even failed to make it to her bed, and had instead fallen asleep in the chair at her desk.

That was a bad sign. She wasn’t going to feel very well rested for the invasion if she slept at her desk again. That chair didn’t offer very comfortable sleep. The restraint harness didn’t even let her turn her torso to the side so she could lean her cheek into the headrest.

…When had a harness been installed in her quarters? That didn’t seem right.

Squelch forced her eyes to open, despite their reluctance to do so. She closed them almost immediately as she was greeted by the sight of an intense white light shining directly into them. She winced away, snarling out an annoyed, “what the fuck?” Or, at least, that was what she had intended to say. What had actually come out of her lips was something more along the lines of, “ehruh da fuh…?”

Whoever it was that had been talking earlier didn’t seem to be suffering from whatever form of speech aphasia was gripping the sage unicorn mare. “She’s coming around!” A stallion announced, sounding immensely relieved at the prospect.

Squelch lifted a limp-feeling hoof up over her face in an attempt to block the blinding light from earlier before making a second attempt to open her eyes. The room looked much darker this time, much to her own relief. Instead, the majority of her vision was taken up by the crimson face of a pegasus stallion, “Blood Chit?” He wasn’t normally on the bridge, the mare thought to herself. “What are you doing here?”

These questions had obviously come out as comprehensible words this time, as they generated a relevant response. “Damage control and crew recovery operations, ma’am,” the ship’s chief of security replied calmly, even as one of his wings was motioning quite emphatically for somepony to come to assist him. A second later, another member of his recovery team was at her side, a small medical monitoring device hovering in their telekinetic grasp. The new arrival directed the device at the DropShip’s commander and began taking readings.

For a moment, the unicorn mare was even more confused. This hardly seemed like the time for a checkup. Also, what did Blood Chit mean when he said that he was doing ‘crew recovery’? Exactly whose crew was he supposed to be recovering? The Zathura wasn’t due to pick anycreature up for several hours―

That was about the time that the mare began to regain her memories prior to losing consciousness. She knew she didn’t remember everything that had happened, but Squelch was able to surmise most of the rest based on context clues. She recalled the ComSpark fighters, and the DropShip taking a few hits. She’d remembered Aileron saying that their engines had been damaged, and then the ship had started to fall…

Beyond that, Squelch couldn’t recall anything specific. Just that they’d been losing a lot of altitude very quickly. Obviously the ship must have crashed. However, there had to be more to it than that, the unicorn realized. An uncontrolled descent all the way to the ground from the stratosphere of Equus should have meant that there wasn’t much more left of the Zathura than a debris field strewn over a couple of kilometers. Certainly nothing that would have left most of the bridge intact, which Squelch could clearly see was the case. It was unpowered and heavily damaged, yes, but it wasn’t a collection of twisted and blackened steel. Which it absolutely should have been, along with the rest of the vessel.

Whatever Aileron had managed to pull off deserved a bonus the size of which Squelch wasn’t entirely sure she had enough money to pay. Perhaps she could make the compensation in installments over the course of the rest of her life? Speaking of which: “Aileron?” She tried to sit up on her command couch, but the harness was still fighting her. Blood Chit was placing his hoof to her chest and easing the mare back into her seat while the other pony with him completed their assessment of her condition.

“He’s fine,” the crimson stallion assured her, “just a dislocated shoulder.” He edged out of the way and pointed with a wing towards the steel gray helmsmare, who was sitting at his station with his left forelimb in a sling. The ship’s pilot cast her a wry smirk in response and issued a tired salute with his pinions.

Squelch relaxed briefly, only to once more try and sit up and look around. “High Gain? Doppler?”

“We’re good, ma’am!” High gain called out, the sunflower earth pony waving her hoof in the air from where she was sitting up front by the sensor console with that station’s cobalt unicorn. Both looked a little worse for wear, High Gain sporting a bandage wrapped around the right side of her face that already boasted a few dots of scarlet blood seeping through. Meanwhile, Doppler was nursing a cranked horn that prompted a sympathetic wince from Squelch, who knew just how painful such a seemingly superficial injury could truly be. Neither of their wounds looked to be particularly life threatening though, so the sage mare allowed herself to relax again.

If only provisionally. Squelch wasn’t quite so naive as to believe that her whole crew had been as lucky as those on the bridge had been. She looked back to Blood Chit. “Casualties?”

The stallion’s face darkened slightly. “We’ve located twenty bodies so far,” he reported soberly, “another fifteen are seriously injured. Cravat’s doing what he can for them. We’re still trying to account for nine more who are missing.” From his tone, it was clear that the security officer was expecting to revise the total number of confirmed dead upwards in the near future. Nine sounded just about right for the number of crew who would have been occupying the DropShip’s ventral and forward weapon mounts. The Zathura may have ‘survived’ the landing thanks to Aileron’s efforts, but it had obviously hit the ground hard. Hard enough that the ship’s exposed mounts would have been crushed on impact.

Those remains of those nine ponies would almost certainly have to be collected with a sponge.

Twenty nine dead with another fifteen indisposed. That was half her crew out of action. The DropShip as well was a total loss. On top of that, they were behind enemy lines. Which, taken all together, meant that their current situation was: ‘not good’. It was only a matter of time before ComSpark sent a force their way to investigate the crash and see what prisoners or intelligence could be acquired. They needed to be ready to defend themselves until help arrived.

“Ship status,” Squelch asked, “other than it being grounded,” she amended, looking around the darkened command deck once more. The lack of even emergency power wasn’t a good sign. “Do we have any turrets that still work?”

“I imagine most of the lateral and dorsal stuff is still basically fine,” Blood Chit replied with a shrug, “but I’m not positive. I’ve been focusing mostly on personnel, not equipment,” the stallion admitted.

That was fair, the unicorn acknowledged. Mig would be the one to ask for a mechanical status anyway. She glanced down to see if they still had internal communications, and was grateful that it looked like they did still retain limited connectivity between their personal pads. She keyed in the ‘Steed Bay, “Engineering; Squelch. I need a status report.”

It was a few seconds before she received a reply. When she eventually did though, the voice wasn’t the one that the unicorn had expected. “It’s pretty bad ma’am,” Channel Lock replied, “Main power’s gone and we aren’t getting it back. Only one APU is functional and half the emergency batteries were destroyed in the crash. We’re working on something to try and get primary system’s online; but it’s honestly a Hail Celestia. I’m not sure it’ll even work, but I’ll have a better idea in an hour or so.”

While Squelch could hardly say that she was surprised by such a grim assessment, the news was still depressing. She was still puzzled as to why she hadn’t gotten this report from her chief engineer though. “Where’s Mig?” Chances were high that the kirin was just too busy to make a report herself, the unicorn guessed, but―

“Mig’s…” there was a slight catch in the other mare’s throat, “...She’s in a bad way, ma’am. Cravat…he’s doing what he can, but…” she trailed off, resigned and sounding helpless.

The sage unicorn balked, glancing to Blood Chit for confirmation. The pegasus stallion shook his head in slow, somber silence. Squelch closed her eyes and cursed silently. The ship was in the worst shape that it had ever been in, and they didn’t have their most talented engineer to help them. She was hesitant to even entertain thoughts regarding how much worse their situation could get. “Understood. Not to put any pressure on you, but we’re stuck in the middle of hostile territory. We’re going to need power and we’re going to need weapons. Sooner is better than later.”

“...Yes, ma’am. We’ll do what we can.”

“We’re all counting on you…chief.” Squelch closed the link and closed her eyes. Their situation wasn’t completely hopeless yet, but it was getting progressively harder to find silver linings. She was down to half her crew and they were stuck in what amounted to little more than an inert steel box. If they couldn’t get any of the Zathrua’s turrets powered up, then they were going to be forced to defend themselves using small arms, and she knew that they weren’t carrying much in the way of heavy ordinance.

Or, at least, her crew didn’t. She looked back at Blood Chit. “The Elementals?”

“Most of them are alright,” the recovery stallion confirmed with a nod. “Turns out that dragons are pretty tough. Only a couple of them sustained any serious injuries.” There was a brief pause which included a frown that Squelch didn’t like, “Their equipment on the other hoof…” he continued with a sigh. The unicorn mare was already wincing. “Half of their Battle Armor suits are wrecked beyond their own techs’ ability to repair. Part of what got wrecked includes their ammunition for their heavier weapons. They basically have what’s loaded in their suits and not much else.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Squelch said, though the flatness of her tone suggested that even she was having a hard time believing that. Without the ability to reload their ammunition, she doubted that the Elementals would be able to last longer than thirty minutes in a fight before they were forced to fight hoof-to-hoof―or rather claw-to-hoof―with their attackers…who would almost certainly be coming at them in BattleSteeds and tanks. Squelch didn’t care how brave and dedicated those dragons were, there wasn’t going to be much that they could do against firepower like that with just their fists and fire breath.

Her own personnel didn’t have heavy weapons, mostly just rifles, pistols, and a few light machine guns. None of which would deter anything more threatening than unarmored infantry. The DropShip’s security force existed primarily to keep anypony from trying to sneak onboard while they were sitting at a spaceport or temporarily secure a salvage site. They weren’t a dedicated military outfit intended to fend off an assault by armored units.

In fact, it looked like, at the moment, all they had left on the ship that could fill that role was: “How’s Twilight?”

“Better than some, but not great.” Blood Chit answered, prompting a questioning look from the unicorn. “According to Cravat, she came to while the ship was going down. He said she tried some magic to help. He’s not sure if it did anything, but trying to use a lot of magic right on the canons of already having significant mana burn put her right back out again. She’s laid up and unconscious, but otherwise in no serious danger.”

“Well that explains it!” Aileron blurted from his seat, drawing the attention of the conversing ponies. The steel gray pilot flashed a wan smile and elaborated. “I fucked up the calculations and started the burn too late. We were going to hit way too hard. Then, suddenly, the ship’s mass gets cut in half! We bled off speed like crazy at the last second.

“Not enough for a gentle landing, obviously,” he said, gesturing at their surroundings, “but we hit slow enough that we didn’t all die. If it was really Twilight that did that, then she saved our lives.”

Squelch nodded along in agreement with the revelation, though her own expression was more cynical. The purple alicorn might indeed have ensured that the DropShip made it to the ground in―nominally―one piece, but if she was out of action again, then it meant that they were still down their only competent BattleSteed pilot. They still had the Crystal Cavalier in the ‘Steed Bay―which Squelch assumed was mostly functional. It could hardly have been expected to be able to fend off a dedicated ComSpark force on its own, but it would certainly have been the most effective weapon they had.

The sage unicorn briefly entertained the notion of asking somepony else to just get in it and try their best, even if they hadn’t been classically trained. Then she thought better of the idea. Putting a laymare in a heavy BattleSteed with only enough time to teach them which of the many buttons in the cockpit turned it on was tantamount to giving a filly a rifle and sending her out with a front line infantry unit. She was more likely to shoot the ponies to the left and right of her than the enemy in front. Similarly, somepony flailing around in that Cavalier was almost certainly just going to end up stepping on one of them instead of a changeling.

They’d honestly be better off stripping its weapons and mounting them into makeshift gun emplacements. Squelch filed that idea away to pass on to Channel Lock later, once her newly-promoted chief engineer got the power situation sorted out. After all, they’d need that power if they hoped to use those stripped out BattleSteed weapons anyway.

There were a few things that they could get started on right now though, and they definitely needed to, since Squelch was confident that they didn’t have a lot of time before ComSpark came knocking at their door. She looked to Blood Chit. “Have whatever ponies you can spare start working on making fighting positions around the ship.”

The hulk of the Zathura itself was an easy target, and while it was armored, that armor wouldn’t stand up to a sustained pounding. If and when the changelings came for them, they actually stood a better chance of surviving outside the DropShip, occupying foxholes. The wounded would stay inside, deep within the ship’s interior where they’d be the safest, but the bulk of the defenders would be better served encircled around its exterior. That was their best chance of fending off any attack until help arrived.

Which brought the unicorn to her next point to address. She glanced now at the injured High Gain. “When Mi―I mean, when Channel Lock―gets the power situation sorted, I need you to get out a signal to the fleet for an extraction.”

The yellow earth pony mare bit her lip, looking hesitant. Squelch didn’t particularly care for that response, as it suggested there was an issue that she hadn’t been made aware of yet. It turned out that assumption was correct. “The primary transmitter array was destroyed in the crash,” the comms tech informed her. “Channel Lock says she can’t repair it, but she can build a basic antenna.

“The problem with that is that we won’t be able to send unidirectional messages. Just omnidirectional ones.”

Squelch let out a long-suffering sigh. Naturally. “So the moment we call for help…” she began.

High Gain was nodding as she finished the commander’s thought, “...We announce to ComSpark exactly where we are, and that there’s somepony here for them to find.”

“And they’ll definitely be able to get one of their units here way before Cinder can,” Squelch added.

“ComSpark’s going to send somepony to check on this wreck eventually anyway,” Blood Chit reminded the mares.

“Yeah, but right now we’re a crashed DropShip that may or may not have survivors,” Squelch pointed out. “With all of the fighting going on in the area, that makes us a low-priority target, since checking on us could turn out ot be a waste of time and equipment that would be better served defending their bases.

“However, if we radio for help, then they’ll know that there’re definitely ponies here and,” she stressed, “that there’s a limited time to get at us before we’re rescued. We’re a potential source of intelligence. ComSpark’s going to want to get to us before we’re rescued. If for no other reason than to take our places and get informants to the fleet.”

“Maybe it’s better if we don’t send out a signal then,” Dopple suggested, though she sounded like she didn’t care for the notion of being stuck on the surface either. “Sounds like it’s a big risk to the fleet if we do.”

It was Blood Chit who responded to that suggestion, “ComSpark will find us eventually,” he pointed out, “and when they do, they’ll replace us and activate the emergency transponder to signal a rescue anyway. They still might get agents into the fleet. At least if we signal ourselves, there’s a chance we’ll get picked up before we’re overrun.

“If it looks like that’s not going to happen, we can always call off the pickup or…scuttle the ship.”

A long, poignant silence hung over the command deck in response to the security pony’s suggestion. It wasn’t a bad idea, or even the wrong one, Squelch knew. It was just…unpleasant. But, reality was oftentimes less than ideal, the unicorn supposed. He was also right about their best chance for survival: they had to make sure they were the ones who called for help.

The sage mare looked at Blood Chit. “Prepare defenses as best you can. Coordinate with the Elementals.” She then turned to High Gain. “Work with Channel Lock to get that antenna built. I also want you to trim down whatever signal you send out as much as possible. Barest essential information for a rescue only. I don’t want that transmission to last any longer than necessary. If we’re very lucky, it might get lost in the background with everything else going on.”

It was a lot to hope for, Squelch knew, but she was determined to do everything that she could to maximize their chances for survival. “I’m going down to Medical to see if there’s a chance of getting Twilight on her hooves in the next few hours. I’d really like to have a conscious alicorn on our side when shit kicks off.”

She was greeted by nods and acknowledgments as her ponies set off to perform their directed tasks. The pony who’d been examining her finally concluded that she didn’t have any broken bones or dislocated joints. Just a mild concussion and some whiplash that was almost certainly going to cause her absolutely excruciating pain in a couple hours. Pretty much right about the time it was likely they’d been in the thick of battle. So at least the unicorn had that to look forward to…

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