Slipshod nodded towards the armored pegasus stallion standing beside the door in the corridor, “hey, Flechette.”

“Sir,” came the curt reply. The prim and professional tone prompted an amused smirk from the golden earth pony. The feathered stallion was very ‘by the book’ while on duty, but that was in stark contrast to the sort of pony he was while out at the bar when they were planetside. Where he’d learned so many drinking games, Slipshod doubted he’d ever know.

He pressed the chime next to the door. A moment later, he heard a mare answer, “enter,” and so he did.

The purple alicorn was sitting at the room’s small desk―which was so minimal that it was honestly hardly worthy of the term―staring at the screen of the terminal mounted on it. She briefly glanced away to see who it was that had come to call on her. Slipshod didn’t miss the hardened glare that she briefly flashed at him before she looked away to resume her reading.

When the door closed behind him, she started speaking, “Chrysalis has been rather thorough,” the alicorn noted, gesturing a wingtip at the screen, “it’s rather surprising, honestly. I remember her being a lot more impulsive and short-sighted.”

Cautiously, the stallion looked to make sure that the door was really closed before responding, “yeah, well, you gave her a thousand years to come up with her plan. That’s a lot of time to consider every contingency.”

Twilight balked and turned once more to look at him, her eyes narrowed, “you know she was imprisoned?” he nodded. The mare jabbed a hoof at the screen, “this says it was only Tirek who was turned to stone.”

Again the earth pony―who only the two of them knew wasn’t really an earth pony―nodded in the affirmative, “we’re given the real history on Equus, along with the one that everycreature else is taught. Who else is the Queen supposed to boast to about ‘how she finally defeated every alicorn, once and for all!’?” his tone suggested that he was repeating an often-heard line of dialogue from his past―which he was.

Twilight snorted, “more cautious, but still as big a blowhard, I see.”

“That part’s probably only gotten worse since you last knew her,” Slipshod allowed, smiling thinly.

“...What happened to the other alicorns?” the purple mare asked cautiously, obviously dreading the possible answers that she could receive, “this says that Celestia and Luna died before I ascended. And that Cadence and Flurry Heart were killed by Tirek. I know that’s a lie, but...are they actually…?” her voice caught, unable to complete the question.

Slipshod spared her from having to, “dead?” he saw the fear in those amethyst eyes which had held little else but fire and fury nearly every other time she’d looked at him. It somehow made him feel more uncomfortable, “no,” he finally answered, watching Twilight let out a relieved breath, “they’re alive, but I don’t think that’s much consolation to any of them.

“Chrysalis delights in tormenting them. Daily. She reports the number of creatures who have died in the fighting in the Harmony Sphere to them every morning. She shows them vids of the battles. Especially any that involve a lot of collateral damage and civilian casualties.

“She won’t kill the three of them,” he assured her, “not anytime soon. The way Chrysalis sees it: she owes them at least another five hundred years of suffering, just to make things even between them.”

“Three?” Twilight latched onto the number, “who isn’t―”

“Flurry Heart,” Slipshod answered before her question finished. His mouth spread in a wry smile, “even the Queen doesn’t know what happened to her. The ‘real’ record shows that she did die,” the alicorn’s breath caught in her throat, “...but a body was never found.

“The Queen suspects that report was faked, but she never found any evidence one way or the other,” he shrugged.

“Could she be with the Disciples?” the princess asked hopefully.

Another shrug, “possible,” he admitted, “but even we don’t know that much for sure.”

She latched onto his wording, “but you do know something about the Disciples,” she prompted. The stallion nodded, “are they really the Ninth Force Recon?”

“That much I don’t know for sure,” he admitted to the mare, “I do know that some Celestia League Defense Force units went ‘missing’ shortly after the Queen replaced you. Around the same time that she started making waves with the rest of the League worlds that were petitioning for new leadership. There’s evidence that some units defected to the governments of those worlds.

“A few turned pirate, or just deserted altogether.

“The Disciples though,” he went on, “the Queen actually has a cocoon set aside, specially, for whoever’s leading them. They’ve been a particularly annoying thorn in her side.”

“How so?” Twilight asked, curious, “from everything I’ve read, they’re just raiding backwater planets. They hardly even seem to destroy much important infrastructure...”

That was true; on paper they actually appeared to look like something of a joke. The sort of group that any fresh merc pilot could cut their teeth on without being in much actual danger once they got used to the handling of their ‘Steed. That was the official impression cultivated by the media with the help of ComSpark. Of course, he knew better than most ponies how unreliable the ‘official’ anything could be in the Sphere...

“Registered infrastructure,” he corrected pointedly, smiling at the alicorn, “what the news doesn’t report is that the Disciples are hitting ComSpark comm arrays.”

“I’d think that the galaxy would notice a disruption in ComSpark’s ability to get message traffic across the Sphere,” Twilight pointed out.

“Oh, they’re not hitting the comm arrays that everypony knows about,” he corrected, “they’re hitting ComSpark’s other array network. The one that the Queen’s agents in the field use to coordinate their activities. We’re having to rebuild them constantly.”

“...I see,” the alicorn massaged her chin idly, considering the new information, “which suggests that even Chrysalis doesn’t quite have total control over all the information flowing around the Harmony Sphere. Somecreature has an intel network of their own; and they know the truth.

“Why don’t they come forward with what they know though…?” she mused aloud, looking over at the stallion to see if he could supply an answer, “they could reveal her agents, expose the changeling threat―”

“The galaxy considers them crazy terrorists,” Slipshod pointed out, “a fanatic cult that can’t be reasoned with. No respectable creature in the Sphere would listen to a thing they had to say, and reaching out just exposes their operatives to capture and interrogation by ComSpark.

“Any information they do manage to get out into an open network gets scrubbed by the Queen’s agents within minutes. Or, worse, repackaged as viral marketing for a new vid or even a game,” he snorted, sitting back on his haunches and waving his hooves in the air, “shape-shifting monsters have taken over the government...now it’s one mare’s job to uncover their plot and save the Federated Moons!” he parodied, as though performing a voice over for an advertisement, “‘Body Snatchers from Beyond the Periphery’! Coming to a vid screen near you, this fall!

“All star cast. Big budget,” the stallion continued, adopting his normal voice once again, “mixed reviews. Lackluster reception. Two sequels that the studio was contractually obligated to make―and it showed. Channel Lock and I did a marathon riff of the trilogy a few months back―Celestia was that third one horrendous! ‘Body Snatchers from Beyond the Beyond’? I mean, Really? Genuinely surprised they didn’t just purge the files once they were done filming and spare the galaxy from that travesty.

“Almost too bad to make fun of, believe it not.

“Poor Seabasket Weaver,” he shook his head, frowning in sympathy, “I hope she fired whatever agent roped her into that role. Nearly ruined her career,” he brightened up again, “thankfully she landed the lead in ‘A Song of Wendigos and Dragons’. Sent her right back to the top.

“Nice mare―great stamina,” Slipshod went on, ignoring the alicorn’s baffled raised eyebrows, “laughs off the Body Snatchers Trilogy at cons any time some troll tries to bring it up. I have a couple souvenirs from the con I attended earlier this year back in my quarters,” the stallion paused for a brief moment before adding, “well, technically she signed a photo and left…something else,” he cleared his throat and continued on, “my point is―”

“Oh, so there is one?”

The stallion rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the alicorn, “my point is,” he pressed on, “that between the dozens of movies like those, plus the shows, and novels, and whatever, any time a Disciple does manage to sneak a report of ‘changelings’ into a network on some planet and somecreature sees it before it gets scrubbed, anycreature who actually sees that report just assumes it’s another promotional piece for a reboot, or a teaser article, or a satire entertainment piece.

“Nopony actually takes it seriously,” the stallion shrugged, “then it’s gone five minutes later, and a million other articles about anything else going on in the Sphere take its place, and it’s forgotten in an hour.”

“So if there are movies about changelings, why didn’t anypony in the briefing recognize it when I used that word?” Twilight asked, mildly annoyed.

“We’re called: ‘Dopples’ in most mainstream media,” Slipshod said, “just adds another layer of obfuscation,” he added at the mare’s questioning look, “reports of ‘changelings’ end up sounding like off-brand ‘dopples’; which everypony already knows are ‘made up’, so it’s easier to think that ‘changelings’ are made up too, and just somecreature trying to capitalize on an existing franchise for a quick c-bit.

“Anyway, yeah; the Disciples know something’s up with the ‘Twilight’ on Equus. They are likely to be the closest things to allies that we’re going to find. It’s way too risky to approach any of the star nations or larger mercenary outfits for help. They’re saturated with changelings.”

“Perfect,” the princess said with a despondent sigh, suggesting that she did not, in fact, think it was ‘perfect’. Slipshod agreed, “and our chances of running into the Disciples are…?”

“I mean, the chances of coming across a Disciple raid eventually are pretty solid. ComSpark’s ‘unofficial’ network arrays are everywhere, pretty much. Hidden behind the name of some shell company or whatever. It’s just a matter of being in the right system at the right time.”

The alicorn let out a slow breath, slowly nodding her head, “...very well,” she looked back up at the stallion, “I assume that you’ve come here for a specific reason?”

“We’re dropping in thirty―” the stallion glanced at the chronometer on his fetlock’s computer, “―now twenty minutes,” Slipshod informed her, “we need to get down to the ‘Steed Bay for our pre-deployment checks.”

Twilight sighed and nodded, reaching over and turning off the terminal’s display. She rose up out of her seat, taking Slipshod by surprise a little as he was still trying to get used to how much taller the alicorn was than just about any other pony he’d even met. Hippogriffs were about her height, but he was rarely in their company either.

When the alicorn turned, her eyes caught a glimpse of the narrow window slit showing a view of the planet below. As part of the provisional deal that had been struck between her and Squelch, Twilight had been added to the company’s official roster as a ‘Steed pilot―though under a pseudonym, for obvious reasons. In exchange, ‘Purple Rose’ had provided the Steel Coursers with the coordinates of one of the Celestia League’s forward operating bases in the region. A little browsing of the records on Canis had confirmed that nothing was listed as being at those coordinates on any official records, so it was likely that the facility had been forgotten about over the centuries, and might still have a few goodies stored within.

That was going to be for Tig and her salvage team to discover though. The rest of the Galloway would be otherwise occupied doing the job that they were officially here to accomplish: Demolishing a firebase that was being set up by elements of the Aris Highlanders Mercenary Company. Prior to this mission, assaulting a purpose-built military installation of any sort, even something as lightly defended as a firebase, wouldn’t have been Squelch’s first choice of mission. A light and medium ‘Steed duo wasn’t exactly the ideal force for such an operation, after all.

However, it was the only job that was available in this system, and now the company had a heavier ‘Steed with a little more firepower. The Rainbow Dash still wasn’t as heavily loaded as it could have been, given the plenitude and size of the chassis’ available hardpoints. Unfortunately, the weapons that the Rainbow Dash was designed to wield weren’t cheap. It was at least respectably well armed for its tonnage at the moment, though, and by far the heaviest-hitting BattleSteed of the three that they had.

If the salvage operation went well―and assuming they kept the repair bill conservative―then they should come away from this mission with the finances necessary to complete the Rainbow Dash’s rearmament, and maybe even be able to spring for a few upgrades for Slipshod and Vals’ own ‘Steeds.

This wasn’t a fact that had gone unremarked upon by anypony on the crew, unfortunately. After all, Slipshod was known to be liked by everypony; so then why was the new mare giving him the stink-eye? For the moment, it was just a fascinating little kernel of speculation for the members of the Galloway’s crew who cared about such things. As long as it didn’t venture beyond that it shouldn’t be much of an issue.

Ultimately though, Slipshod didn’t need Twilight to like him―though that would have been preferable, yes―he just needed her to not kill him. That was a low enough bar that it shouldn’t present much of an issue.

He hoped.

“I’ve been to Kenway once before,” Twilight announced, “on the anniversary of the founding of its first settlement. I made a point of doing that: visiting every new world that creatures settled. I wanted to let them know that, even though they were lightyears away from Equus, that they were still important to me. That they were still friends.

“I arrived wearing my regalia that first time.”

She looked down at the armored barding that she was wearing now. It had been something of a chore to locate a set in her size, and even then significant tailoring had been required after the fact, “now I return dressed for battle,” her words dripped with bitterness and revulsion. Another glare was cast in Slipshod’s direction, as though he alone was to blame for these circumstances.

The earth pony winced reflexively. For a brief moment, he even did feel like he bore at least some of the responsibility. After all, it was the changeling queen―his nominal master―who had been keeping the embers of war stoked these last few centuries, “‘battle’ is hopefully a strong word for what’ll happen down there. If thing’s go well, the fight should be over in about fifteen minutes. The Aris Highlander forces shouldn’t have had time to dig in and…” Slipshod’s words choked off beneath the alicorn’s withering stare. He swallowed and nodded silently.

“If your Commander Squelch thinks that I will kill hippogriffs, then I hope that she is prepared to be sorely disappointed.”

Slipshod frowned, “well, they’re going to be trying to kill you, princess.”

“They can try,” was her dismissive reply. Whether it was borne out of faith in her abilities, or the quality of her ‘Steed, the stallion didn’t know, “their choices will not affect my own.”

“Most ‘Steed pilots eject before their core breaches,” he pointed out helpfully, “as long as you don’t crack their cockpit, I doubt you’d actually kill anycreature out there by downing their ‘Steed.”

“It is ridiculous that there should even be the risk of doing so!” Twilight snapped, “why does your commander even care that the hippogriffs have set up a military outpost on this world? What is accomplished by dismantling it?”

“Honestly? Squelch doesn’t care. Nopony on this ship does,” he said with a shrug, noting the alicorn’s incredulous sneer and finding himself wincing again beneath it. Maybe it was an inherent alicorn ‘thing’ to make other ponies feel like misbehaving foals, “we were hired to do a job. It’s nothing personal.

“The Combine wants a base on this planet, and the Commonwealth prefers they don’t have one. The latter offered C-bits to fight the former. We need C-bits, so we’re going to do it,” he shrugged, “no malice. No personal investment. Just...business.”

“And that makes it better?”

“It makes it...what it is,” the earth pony sighed anemically, “that’s just how the galaxy works now, Princess. Everycreature just sort of lives in it.

“If you want to hate somecreature, then you know who’s ultimately to blame for this: Chrysalis. Her agents keep the factions fighting.”

“I still don’t quite understand why that is the case,” the alicorn murmured, looking back to the window once more, “how does the constant conflict benefit her?”

“If everycreature’s fighting, then they’re not cooperating,” Slipshod pointed out, flinching internally at how obvious it sounded, and so amended it with, “which means that Chrysalis doesn’t have to worry about any sort of coordinated effort that might contest anything she does. The perpetual need for competent BattleSteed pilots also means that there’s a constant supply of creatures delivering themselves to the hive on Equus to be...um…” he petered off, stumbling for how to phrase it such that Twilight didn’t feel compelled to question her decision to spare his life in the face of what he was.

“...How likely is it that the ‘Steed pilots we’ll be facing are also changelings?”

“I mean, obviously not every ‘Steed pilot’s a changeling,” Slipshod said, grateful for even the slight shift in topic, “but the academies on Equus are genuinely some of the best in the galaxy, overall. Whoever’s in charge down there probably went to a good academy, so they might be one…” he shrugged, genuinely sorry that he couldn’t be more definitive, “every drone’s not exactly given a comprehensive list of who is and isn’t one of the Queen’s operatives.” That’d be quite a long list anyway.

“A vast operation like that would require a substantial communication’s network,” the purple mare remarked, casting an askance view at the earth pony, “which is why ComSpark is running that secondary secret array you mentioned earlier?”

“Pretty much,” he confirmed.

The alicorn merely grunted and said nothing more on the subject. She continued to stare out the small window. Slipshod idly wondered if the mare was going to refuse to leave her quarters. He wasn’t precisely sure what the response to doing that would be. Probably, Squelch would just have him take the Rainbow Dash instead and hope that two ‘Steeds would be able to do the job.

Fortunately, it didn’t look like they’d have to seriously consider any contingencies. This time, anyway. Twilight spent a few more seconds looking down at the world, wearing an expression that spoke to her distress at the current state of the galaxy and its denizens. Then she turned away and headed for the door, her magic collecting her helmet on her way out. Slipshod fell into step behind her.

Flechette trailed them all the way to the ‘Steed Bay.

Valkyrie was already climbing into her Parasprite when the trio arrived. Slipshod broke off down the gangway leading to his Wild Bronco, though he did take a moment to admire the work that Mig and Tig had done on Twilight’s heavy ‘Steed before descending through the hatch. The pair of kirin had relished the opportunity to restore such a rare BattleSteed, and their doting showed itself readily. They’d polished and painted every piece of ablative armor until it shown like new, even going so far as to give the heavy ‘Steed it’s iconic cerulean coloriation and chromatic highlights.

If Slipshod hadn’t known any better, he’d have sworn it rolled right off the assembly line that day.

He idly wondered what he’d have to do to get the twins to give his ‘Steed that kind of attention…

Indeed, the only detractors from its appearance was the fact that its armament was lacking. Where there should have been a pair of Prismatic Projector Cannons hanging from pylons beneath each of the canards, were mere heavy energy beams. Similarly, only five-pack long range missile pods lay tucked behind its shoulders, where mountings capable of fitting much larger twenty-counts were present. Though the greatest disservice was perhaps the machinegun barrel poking mekely out of the center of the ‘Steed’s chest, where it was obvious a much larger weapon was intended to be accommodated. An autocannon type-ten, the stallion believed.

Still, it was a weapons compliment that far exceeded his own. His and Val’s combined, honestly. That―hypothetically―counted for a lot. Assuming that the princess could bring herself to actually pull the trigger at any point during the fight…

He paused, noting that Twilight herself had come to a stop at the entrance to the gangway leading to her ‘Steed. She was admiring the mechanical equine―no...that wasn’t quite it, the stallion realized. It wasn’t admiration on her face, it was...regret.

“Once upon a time, these were the only ‘Steeds designed for war,” the alicorn said, ostensibly to Slipshod since he was the only pony close enough to her to have been heard over the din of the ‘Steed bay, “all the others were conversions of industrial models.

“When Tirek was defeated, I had all the other surviving Rainbow Dashes decommissioned,” she continued soberly, “in the hopes that it would help the galaxy to heal―to go back to how it had been...but it didn’t.

“...these were never intended to be turned against my subjects. My friends.”

There was a resignation in her voice, a despairing tone which suggested that the reality of the state of the galaxy was finally setting in for her. Twilight had only known a united Harmony Sphere under the Celestia League, where every citizen cooperated and got along. Now the galaxy was at war with itself, and she was about to experience it first hoof.

He sincerely hoped that her stated reluctance to kill didn’t become an issue. Well...at least an issue for him. The stallion very much doubted that Twilight was going to let Valkyrie die to satisfy her conscience. She certainly wasn’t likely to do much that would directly save his life, of that he was confident.

For a not so brief moment, the stallion debated calling up Squelch and voicing his concern. He was prepared to face being called out for his hypocrisy―after all, he’d been the one who’d pushed for Twilight’s inclusion in the operation. But he was dubious about how likely they could accomplish the mission with just the Rainbow Dash and the Parasprite. Even if Twilight wasn’t keen on shooting at their enemy, there was no doubt that the Aris Highlander mercenaries down there would recognize the heavy ‘Steed as the more pressing threat and focus the majority of their attention on it.

If all that Twilight managed to accomplish was to draw enemy fire for a time, then that might actually be all that was needed, and definitely made success far more likely than him being both the primary target of the enemy’s fire, as well as the majority of his side’s own offensive capability.

For better or worse, they were probably better off with Twilight in the Rainbow Dash, even if she never fired a shot. Whatever questions that Val and Squelch had for the alicorn about her performance upon their return...well, he’d worry about defusing that situation when it came up. First, he had to focus on living through the afternoon.

“Before there were ‘Steeds, there were spears,” Slipshod finally said in response to the princess’ words, drawing the attention of the alicorn, “do you ever wonder if the creature that first invented those did so for the purpose of waging wars, or do you think that they were created to protect others from dangerous monsters; and that later the invention was co-opted for killing other beings?” the purple mare lowered her gaze in thought for a moment.

“You don’t get to control how creatures use the tools you give them, Princess” the earth pony shrugged before trotting to the cockpit of his ‘Steed and climbing up the side, “doing that would be called: ‘tyranny’.”

The earth pony stallion finally slipped into his ‘Steed and started going through the pre-deployment checklist. He took a moment to marvel at the quality job that the twins had done at repairing the damage that had been inflicted during his last outing. Though the pristine nature of the new paneling made it easy to spot what had been replaced. Hopefully there would be no need for the kirin mechanics to swap out the remainder of the control surfaces after this mission.

Through the window of his cockpit he saw the alicorn princess finally closing the hatch of her own ‘Steed as well. She didn’t like fighting. He understood that. However, he hoped that she understood that a lot of fighting was going to be required in the future if she really wanted to undo the damage that Chrysalis had inflicted upon the galaxy.

Things were going to get a lot worse before they could start to get any better.

He had just finished checking the last of the Wild Bronco’s systems when his headset crackled with static and Squelch’s voice made an announcement, “all pilots: atmo in five minutes. ETA to drop site: nine minutes, thirty seconds.”

The earth pony felt himself tense up reflexively at the news. His earlier concerns about the quality of Twilight’s participation in the mission weren’t helping matters any. The opposition that they were going to be facing wouldn’t be all that much, relatively speaking: a few static defenses, screening vehicles, maybe some missile carriers―for which Slipshod was grateful to now have an LRM of his own to counter with. Their primary concern would be the ‘Steeds present at the firebase. Which the intel they had purported to be two light and two medium tonnage ‘Steeds. They were technically outnumbered in this fight, ‘Steed-wise, but their fielded tonnage with the Rainbow Dash should put them within ten tons at the most.

Not that going into a ‘fair fight’ was an ideal situation as far as most mercenaries were concerned―or most military-minded individuals in general. Why give the enemy a fighting chance, when you could overwhelm them instead?

Unfortunately, this was the mission that was available to them, so this was the battle that they were going to have to fight.

Slipshod’s piloting couch began to vibrate as the Galloway made contact with the planet’s atmosphere. He took a deep breath to soothe his nerves. He just had to trust that Twilight would be willing to make good use of her ‘Steed. For her’s and Val’s sake, if not his own. After all, she couldn’t save the galaxy from Chrysalis if she was dead, right?

“I have eyes on the objective,” Valkyrie’s voice crackled over the comm.

The DropShip had seen fit to deposit the trio far outside of whatever radar array the firebase was likely to field, leaving the ‘Steed pilots with a lengthy jog to their destination. The blue pegasus’ light recon ‘Steed had assumed a distant point position, taking advantage of her sensor suite and low visual profile to avoid contact with any early warning systems and even found a few holes in the Highlanders’ own sensor net. Fortunately for them, the newness of the firebase meant that they were still in the midst of building up those early-warning stations, and so they didn’t yet have complete coverage.

Valkyrie had managed to guide them to within a few kilometers of the base’s perimeter, and was now perched just on the other side of a rocky mountaintop that permitted her a clear look at their target, “pretty typical layout,” she relayed to the pair of waiting pilots, “four medium magical energy turrets. Six Scorpion Tanks. Two Strikers. Four ‘Steed Stalls.

“I only have IDs on three of the ‘Steeds though. Fourth Stall’s closed up. But what I do have eyes on is a Breezy, a Pipsqueak, and a Blackjenny.”

“Two lights and a medium,” Slipshod noted rhetorically. Valkyrie well knew the tonnages of those ‘Steeds. Twilight might not though. The stallion wasn’t positive on the dates that all of those designs had been fielded, and which ones might have been developed after she’d gone into stasis, “everything’s matching up with the intel brief so far. The closed Stall is likely a medium that’s being worked on. Which means that they might even be down a ‘Steed, depending on how far they’ve disassembled it.”

He paused now, considering the rest of the forces present. The turrets didn’t bother him too much. Most of their weapons vastly outranged the static emplacements and thus they could be taken out without any difficulty at any time during the fight. The tanks concerned him a little more. Those autocannon type-fives fired out further than their own heavy energy weapons, and could fire more frequently. The only real downside was the fact that it was a projectile weapon, and would need to lead its targets in order to score hits. All three of them were capable of moving pretty quickly, so as long as they kept moving, they shouldn’t be knocked around too badly before being able to deal with the tracked vehicles.

The Strikers were honestly the bigger threat with their LRMs. They’d need to go first. Once those missile platforms were gone, then the three of them would be able to move around the battlefield with relative impunity, Slipshod and Twilight raining missiles down onto everything until the Highlanders managed to get their pilots into their mechs.

Even then, he wasn’t worried much about the Breezy, with it’s quartet of machine guns, or even the Pipsqueak, despite its twin six-pack SRMs. It was the Blackjenny that had him concerned. If it was armed the way that they typically were, that forty-five ton ‘Steed arguably packed more firepower than his Bronco and Twilight’s Rainbow Dash combined, at the moment. It’s armor was significantly lighter than even his own ‘Steeds’, so it wouldn’t be able to take a serious pounding; but it would be able to do a lot of damage for as long as it was up.

Slipshod really hoped that that second medium ‘Steed wasn’t functional.

“We’ll start hitting them from here,” the golden earth pony began, laying out their plan of attack now that they knew precisely what they were up against, “we have LRMs, and Val’s sensors’ll let us get locks from defilade,” no sense in exposing themselves to enemy fire when they didn’t have to. It might even take the base’s defenders a volley or two to figure out where exactly they were being attacked from, “Twilight, you prioritize the turrets,” the alicorn shouldn’t have any qualms about destroying the unmared automated defenses, “I’ll focus on the Strikers.

“It’ll take a few minutes for their pilots to even get to their ‘Steeds, so once the turrets are down, Twilight, I want you to start hitting those,” can’t kill ‘Steed pilots if there’re no pilots in the ‘Steeds, “I’ll work on the Scorpions.

“Val, you stay down until they come out to engage us. Once we’ve got whatever’s left of their defenders occupied, move in and wreck the firebase and get out, got it?

“Remember, that’s the objective: the firebase,” he stressed to the mares, “no support facilities for their ‘Steeds means no useful ‘Steeds at all. They’ll be forced to pull back off-planet until a new one can be set up, and that’s all our employer wants. Once the firebase is leveled, we can withdraw and call Squelch in for an extraction. Understood?”

“Roger,” Valkyrie replied. If she was unhappy about being kept from direct engagement with the enemy, the stallion couldn’t hear it in her voice.

“The plan is...agreeable,” came the alicorn’s more reluctant response.

If she didn’t want to kill creatures, that was fine. As long as she helped, that was all that Slipshod really cared about.

“Alright then,” the earth pony moved his hooves around his control yokes as he selected the Wild Bronco’s new LRM launcher, “select you targets and fire at will.”

“You know,” the lilac hippogriff hen sighed as she held up a piece of what the cafeteria’s server had insisted was ‘cod’, but appeared to have the consistency of undercooked calamari, “one of the benefits of planetside duties is supposed to be that we eat better than we did on the DropShip,” she let the piece of flesh flop unceremoniously back onto her tray.

The cinnamon tiercel sitting across from her smiled around a mouthful of his own burger, “I told you to avoid the fish,” he chided playfully despite his full mouth. His lack of manners earned him a glare from his comrade, so he made a point to swallow what he had before continuing, “it’s exactly like what’s on the DropShip because it is what was on the DropShip,” he pointed out, “they just finished up the landing pad a week ago. The first ship carrying our foodstuffs won’t be in for another three days.”

The hen let out a defeated sigh and pushed her tray away, slumping morosely onto the table, “I should have brought my fishing gear,” she whined, “the perimeter crews said there was a river just five minutes' flight from here. I could have had all the fresh fish I wanted. Instead of...that,” she pointed an accruing talon at the contents of her tray.

Her partner chuckled and proceeded to take another bite of his burger. Beef seemed to hold up better to long-term storage aboard ships, so an experienced ‘Steed pilot like himself knew what to get when making his way down the chow line.

Just as he was about to clamp down on his meal, the building rumbled. It was only a slight tremor, doing little more than rattling the silverware on the table. However, it was enough of a shake to instantly silence every bit of idle conversation that had been going on in the dining area. Every head, beaked and muzzled, was perked up, everycreature looking around as though one of them had the answer to the question on all of their minds.

A question that the hen voiced, “what was that? Earthquake?”

The red-hued hippogriff dropped his burger and stood up, shaking his head, “too short to have been a quake, and I’m pretty sure I heard―” his words were cut off as a second tremor pulsed through the cafeteria, this one more significant than the first, and accompanied by a thunderous chorus of explosions. He was about to yell out when a much larger explosion followed a second later, on the hooves of the first. This blast was big enough to shatter the dining area’s windows, pelting those seated near the walls with shards of glass.

The pair of hippogriffs instinctively ducked, despite being far enough towards the room’s interior to be relatively safe from the debris. He finally found time to get out his warning, “we’re under attack!” he informed her. As though it had been waiting for his own assessment, the base’s sirens finally began to sound the alarm, their long, drawn out, howl cutting through the renewed―and much more energetic―verbal din of the now former diners. Creatures were darting for the exits in droves as they sought to get to their posts to repel the surprise attack.

“I thought we had an early-warning system!” the pink-hued hen protested as she hastily buttoned up her armor and grabbed for her helmet. Her companion was doing the same, the pair zipping for the exit that was nearest to the ‘Steed stalls, “we should have known somecreature was coming an hour ago!”

“They’re still setting it up,” the tiercel replied grimly, silently echoing her sentiment in his head, “apparently there’re a few holes,” his words dripped with contempt for the nameless individuals whose job it was to ensure such flaws weren’t present. Not that it was necessarily anycreature’s fault, he was forced to concede. The sensor net wasn’t done being built. Such things took time, and not enough had passed. If whoever these attackers were had waited another few days, it would have been a different story.

As it was…

“Just get to your ‘Steed!” he yelled back at her over his shoulder as the pair burst outside. A third explosion caught their attention and they whipped their heads to the right just in time to watch the small ploom of smoke rising up from where a defensive turret had once stood. The red tiercel whirled around to look in the direction of the motorpool and grimaced. One of the Strikers was already a flaming wreck―likely the blast that had shattered the windows of the cafeteria―which meant that they’d lost half of their ability to respond in kind to what had to be a missile barrage. Not that the other Striker was going to be doing them a lot of good without something out there to give them a target lock on whatever was bombarding them.

The missile carrier’s crew was at least currently clambering to get inside and power the vehicle up so that it could respond when the time came―

He saw the salvo arcing through the air. Five trails of gray smoke tracing their way through the air, diving in towards the firebase in a tight formation. The moment he spotted them, he knew what their target would be. And it didn’t matter. He didn’t have time to call out a warning. He was too far away to have been heard over the din of the klaxons. None of those in danger would have been able to react in time anyway.

All that he could do was look on, his face etched with grim lines, as those five missiles landed directly on top of the stationary remaining Striker. They were well armored enough to be able to take a hit or two, depending on where that hit came from, but they weren’t a ‘line unit’. They were artillery. Designed to hit from afar, and avoid direct engagement. They didn’t have a lot of armor.

Their crews had even less. Especially when they were still standing outside of the armored cab, exposed.

When the smoke cleared, the Striker was still standing, but none of the creatures who’d been galloping towards it were. Tendrils of smoke were wafting up from the vehicle. Somecreature must have seen something he couldn’t from where he was, because a couple of ponies and a hippogriff were grabbing up fire extinguishers and running towards the Striker. It carried quite a bit in the way of munitions onboard. If they blew…

That wasn’t his problem. Containing those fires wasn’t his job.

Getting to his ‘Steed and stopping whoever it was out there from killing any more of his comrades, that was.

The tiercel pulled on his helmet, angled himself towards the Stall where his ‘Steed was berthed, and winged his way there as quickly as he could. The ground crews flying and galloping around could have been mistaken for panicking to the untrained eye, but the hippogriff knew that every one of those movements had a purpose. These creatures had drilled more than once on exactly how to get a ‘Steed from inert to combat-ready in mere minutes.

In this specific case, those crews had a little bit more working against them than just a lack of adequate warning. The last components for his new ‘Steed had only arrived two days ago. In fact, he was informed that it had only just been completed last night. Today was supposed to have been dedicated to diagnostics and testing to make certain that everything was working as advertised. He hadn’t even been able to start it up yet!

Taking it into battle after powering up a ‘Steed for its first time was not what any pilot would consider an ‘ideal’ shakedown run; but it was what he was left with. Idly, the tiercel wondered if dismantling the Flash Sentry had been a good idea after all.

Not there was any helping it now.

He flew into the closed off ‘Steed Stall and arced towards the cockpit. Technicians were hastily disconnecting computer terminals and diagnostic equipment. The pilot received a talons-up from the chief mechanic, signalling that she―at least―was confident that everything was ready to be powered up and taken into battle. That was good enough for him.

He darted into the cockpit. Slapping the controls that would lower and seal the hatch on his way by. Clawtips danced over controls, powering up the ‘Steed’s various systems even as he set himself down in the piloting couch. All around him, lights blinked to life, and the cockpit’s interior began to hum with the sounds of activity from deep within his ‘Steed. Within seconds, the monotone voice of the computer systems announced that his brand new Queen Novo, and all of its very lethal heavy magical energy beams and prismatic projector cannons, were ready to go into battle.

The corners of the tiercel’s beak spread into a murderous grin, “come and get some, you fuckers!”

“The light ‘Steeds are coming your way,” came Valkyrie’s warning over the radio.

Slipshod’s eyes darted to his map display as he confirmed the pair of red blips leaving the firebase at a speed far greater than any of the remaining tanks could have managed. According to the pegasus, he’d dissabled the Strikers and two of the Scorpions, and Twilight had made short work of the turrets and even landed a few hits on the Blackjenny before it had powered up and started moving. She’d ceased firing on it the moment that it had powered up, much to the stallion’s chagrin, but at least she’d hurt it. That should reduce the work he needed to do somewhat.

Briefly, the earth pony debating between advancing and remaining where he was. He had time enough yet to rain a couple more volleys on the approaching ‘Steeds before they found him. Ultimately though, he was better served being mobile and up to speed by the time those lighter units engaged. Speed was their primary asset, and it was in his best interest to not be stationary when they first made contact with him. It was going to be rough enough being outnumbered.

“Moving in,” he announced, his hind hooves pushing down hard on the throttle pedals, “once that Blackjenny’s clear of the firebase, move in and start wrecking shop. Start with the Stalls and command center.”

“Understood,” the mare replied.

Slipshod glanced over his shoulder at the display screen linked to the external camera showing his right flank and the stationary Rainbow Dash that was there, “and feel free to join in whenever you want, Princess,” he offered in a sardonic tone, not actually believing that the alicorn would, “you came all this way; no reason I should have all the fun,” and with that parting quip, the stallion focused his sight ahead once more, locking his targeting computer onto the Pipsqueak and its twin SRMs.

In no time at all, his Wild Bronco was up to a gallop as he and the pair of light ‘Steeds engaged in a faux joust. He idly lobbed a volley of missiles at the fast-moving target, not really seeing a reason not to at least attempt to land a hit with his missiles. Though the probability of it happening was rather low, given the size and speed of his target.

His heavy energy beam was another matter though. The sapphire lance of light bridged the distance between them in an instant and carved deep into the left shoulder of the oncoming ‘Steed. The missile launcher sequestered there evaporated beneath the onslaught of potent energy and detonated, staggering the slightly-built equine frame. It kept on coming though, soon getting back up to its full speed.

Slipshod barely registered that the Breezy was breaking off to his left. He’d known before throttling up that it would be impossible to keep both light ‘Steeds in front of him, so he wasn’t going to try. His goal right now was to focus on one, down it as quickly as possible, and then deal with the other. Hopefully he could take them both out of the fight before the Blackjenny arrived. Two opponents were bad enough. Three would be the next best thing to impossible for him to deal with in the Bronco.

A quartet of muzzle-flashes flickered off to the side of his cockpit’s window as the Breezy’s pilot opened fire with its machineguns. What sounded almost like the muffled pattering of a tropical storm filled his cockpit as the streams of rounds impacted his ‘Steeds armor. They weren’t much of a concern right now, and both he and the Breezy’s pilot knew that. However, given enough time, they could eventually become a concern. Slipshod just had to make sure that he didn’t allow that much time to lapse.

Of greater immediate concern were the trails of missile exhaust that he saw streaking towards him. Slipshod tensed up, bracing as the sextet of ordnance detonated along his torso and forelegs. His eyes darted briefly to his integrity displays, which assured him that the hits had been spread out and only inflicted superficial damage. They also informed him that the Breezy’s hits were speckling his Bronco’s left flank now.

The earth pony selected the medium energy cannon which had been swapped in to replace the pair of small lasers that he’d lost in his last fight back on Lupin, and teased the reticle onto the Pipsqueak’s left shoulder once more. The emerald beam drifted slightly to the right, and missed digging deeper into the light ‘Steeds internals. However, it did manage to clip the limb’s joint enough to stagger the smaller mechanical equine once more. Slipshod seized upon the opening and kicked back with his hind legs on the throttle pedals even as his forehooves thrust forward on the control yokes.

The Wild Bronco leaped forward into the air, arcing up and forwards, as though aided by jump jets. However, this was no flight-assist. This was merely the feature which earned the ‘Steed its name. Long ago, in an age before combat was undertaken by pilots encased in steel quadrupeds, ‘Steeds had been designed, built, and operated by mining and construction outfits. To that end, they had needed to be able to navigate terrain which had previously not been developed. Terrain which included steep hills, mountains, and even small cliffs and fissures. The Wild Bronco traced its lineage to just such construction vehicles. In the interests of streamlining the shift from WorkSteeds to BattleSteeds, the designers had changed as little as they could about the Wild Bronco’s utilitarian design so that costs could be kept low and downtime to a minimum during the retooling of the factories.

As such, the ‘Steed’s ability to leap up small cliffs or across narrow ravines had been retained, though the need for the additional myomer musculature to pull off these feats had meant a reduced capacity to support weaponry.

Slipshod idly wondered if the Pipsqueak’s pilot had known about that feature of the medium ‘Steed, as the Bronco began to arc back downward. Doubtful, otherwise they wouldn’t have allowed themselves to get this close.

Fifty tons of leaping metal equine came down upon the smoldering joint on the Pipsqueak’s left side. The frame of the lighter ‘Steed had never been intended to support anywhere near that kind of weight, and sheared off nearly instantly. Had that been the end of it, the lighter machine might still yet have survived the encounter. However, while the Wild Bronco might now be back on the ground, its forward motion hadn’t abated in the slightest.

Raw physics worked against the Pipsqueak now, as fifty tons of Wild Bronco met thirty tons of crippled light ‘Steed. It was a foregone conclusion that the former would lose out in the altercation. Slipshod lurched forward on his couch, the restraints biting into the shoulder pads of his armor, as his ‘Steed was suddenly slowed by the collision. However, he was certainly not stopped by it. Through the window of his cockpit, the earth pony saw the frail little ‘Steed he’d just bowled over tumble across the ground in front of him, wiping out several hoofball fields worth of vegetation as it went. Another limb came off in the fracas, twisting out of its socket and sailing heedlessly into the air.

It was decidedly out of the fight now―

Something more serious must have come apart deep with the bowels of the Pipsqueak, Slipshod supposed, as the light ‘Steed’s midsection began to crackle with purple light before it had even come to a complete stop. The earth pony’s eyes locked onto the cockpit, his lips pulled into a tight line as he recognized that―assuming the pilot was even still conscious after a fall like that―there was little chance that the ejection system would even function if it was pointed in any direction but ‘up’. He idly hoped that the pilot was unaware of what was happening as the ‘Steed vanished within the violently crackling magical fire of a reactor breach.

One down, he supposed.

The stallion tightened his grip around the control yokes and heaved his Wild Bronco around to confront the Breezy.

“Novo! Queen Novo!” Valkyrie’s voice crackled suddenly, and loudly, across the stallion’s headset, “the forth ‘Steed is a Queen Novo!”

Slipshod jerked up in his couch and looked towards the firebase, “What―”

“―in the―?!”

The sound of the hippogriff hen’s voice cut off suddenly. The cinnamon tiercel’s gut tied itself into a knot as he mentally lambasted the Stall’s doors for their lethargic pace. It was taking them longer to open than it had for his ‘Steed to start up, for egg’s sake!

Though the opening was wide enough for him to catch sight of the violet fireball that blossomed into existence a kilometer away. His eyes darted up to the readout which displayed his lancemates and their respective conditions. One of the names was blacked out, indicating a loss of contact with that ‘Steed’s transponder.

He reached out and selected that specific channel, “Flight Three, what’s your condition?” he paused, his chest growing tighter with every fraction of a second that went by without a response, “Flight Three―Gulfsteam―respond!”

Silence.

The tiercel snarled and switched back over to the lance-wide channel, “does anycreature have eyes on Flight Three? Did she eject?!”

“Negative,” came a mare’s grim response a second later, “repeat: negative on ejection for Flight Three.”

The roar that escaped the hippogriff was primal.

The first victims of his fury were the Stall’s doors, who paid the ultimate price for their lack of haste as his heavy ‘Steed launched through them, ripping the multi-ton portal coverings from their mounts and sending them crashing to the ground below. Creatures screamed and scattered as they sought to escape from the tumbling wreckage left in the heavy ‘Steed’s wake.

The tiercel intended to reduce the ‘Steed of whomever had slain his lancemate to a similar state.

The most forward of the two visible enemy targets, as well as the one nearest the last known location of Gulfstream’s ‘Steed, was the Wild Bronco. He targeted the ‘Steed. His talons flicked through the firing controls on his yokes, pelting a steady stream of alternating indigo and chromatic light at the medium-tonnage mechanical equine. Even the Queen Novo’s plentitude of heatsinks wouldn’t allow him to maintain such a continuous barrage of destructive fire for long before the safeties triggered a shutdown of the reactor to keep it from going critical.

But it would be long enough to melt down the pilot who’d just killed his wife.

Slipshod had just enough time to process Valkyrie’s warning by the time the first column of coherent blue light struck the side of his ‘Steed. The cockpit lurched and the armor integrity indicator flashed. His mind raced with a series of images from his last confrontation. The earth pony didn’t want a repeat of that. Even if he survived the battle, he very much doubted that he’d live through whatever Squelch might do to him if he trashed his ‘Steed for a second time in a month.

He throttled up to the ‘Steed’s maximum speed. He didn’t have a destination in mind yet. He just knew that he needed to be moving as much as possible in order to make himself a more difficult target for whoever was shooting at him.

He suspected that it was the Queen Novo which the pegasus had just informed him about. This complicated matters. Significantly.

With the Pipsqueak out of the fight, ton-for-ton, their forces were on approximately even footing. At least on paper. Unfortunately for him, their heavy ‘Steed wasn’t likely to contribute as much to the engagement as the enemy’s was. Which was going to leave him and Valkyrie to fight all three of the remaining ‘Steeds and whatever Scorpions were still operational. The Breezy would be easy enough to deal with, provided he was willing to get battered around by the Queen Novo for a minute or two while he focused on the lighter menace. The Blackjenny was another matter―

Speaking of which, where was that Blackjenny?

Slipshod had only just glanced down at the map display on his console when he received his answer over the radio, “shit, they found me!” Valkyrie announced, “evading!”

The stallion grimaced. She was right to pull back. She was outmassed, outranged, and outgunned by the medium ‘Steed, and he was in no position to support her at the moment.

Of course, now their whole plan was effectively shot to shit. Neither he, nor Val, were going to be able to get to the firebase and wreck enough of the infrastructure to render it useless. The mission was a wash. Honestly, the smart thing for them to do now was withdraw and call for an extraction. Squelch was going to bite his head off over the penalty their employer would levy against the company for failing to fulfill the contract, but there was still a chance that whatever Tig salvaged from the Celestia League base would keep them in the black for this trip.

Right now, the best thing he could do was to limit the repair bill for their ‘Steeds.

“Gallop One to Gallop Lance: pull back. I say again: Pull. Back. Make for Nav Omega at best speed,” he swapped over to the comm channel for the DropShip, “Galloway, Gallop One. Set condition: Black.”

A second later he received a response from the orbiting DropShip’s on-duty communications tech, “Galloway copies Condition Black. ETA for pickup: five minutes.” the mic for the operator cut out, but not before the earth pony was able to catch the sound of a mare cursing in the background.

Well, that part was done. Now all he had to do was live long enough to reach the rendezvous. Which would be immeasurably easier without that Breezy eroding his armor while it circled him. The Wild Bronco faltered slightly for a brief moment. Slipshod learned the likely reason for the stuttered movement a second later as a sapphire beam flashed past his cockpit window from behind. The sensors nestled in his ‘Steed’s right hind leg informed him that the armor there had been significantly damaged by the hit.

He yanked on the control yokes and heaved the Wild Bronco hard to the left. A second later, a helix of rainbow light punched through the air where his ‘Steed had just been and impacted on the ground a few hundred meters away. An expanding field of shimmering multicolored light enveloped the area, its edges just barely touching his flank. Even that slight brush with the crackling energy field caused the readouts on his cockpit’s heads-up-display to waiver for a second. A direct hit from one of those Prismatic Projector Cannons was certainly something to avoid, Slipshod concluded.

The stallion snapped off a shot with his medium energy cannon at the Breezy, but knew even as he did so that it would only be a glancing hit. The reminder that his Wild Bronco had bigger guns than the lighter ‘Steed, and that the gangly mechanical equine carried less ablative plating than was present in one of his legs at least convinced the Breezy’s pilot to break off its attack for a moment while it repositioned itself out of Slipshod’s line of fire. It would only be a brief respite, but he’d take any amount of time that he could get.

Distant bars of emerald light and muzzle flashes drew the earth pony’s eyes to where Valkyrie was currently attempting to outrun the Blackjenny. He briefly spied the bulbous bipedal ‘Steed as it bobbed through the trees. One of her radar dishes was missing, a few tendrils of smoke trailing from the Parasprite’s backside where a hit from the medium ‘Steed had blasted it off. Valkyrie was much quicker and more agile than the pilot chasing her, and was already outside of the effective range at which medium energy weapons could do meaningful damage. If she could survive long enough to get out of the much longer range of the Blackjenny’s autocannon type-twos, she’d be just fine.

Slipshod was going to have a much tougher go of things. The Queen Novo’s weapons complement were all weapons which possessed significant effective ranges. The PPCs especially so; and his speed advantage was marginal, at best. He certainly wasn’t going to be able to outrun the Breezy. However, hopefully that annoying gnat of a ‘Steed would break off once it realized it was too far away from its cohorts to be properly supported by them.

The Wild Bronco lurched again. His left side flashed red, an audible alert warning him that little remained of the ablative armor there to ward off future direct hits from heavier weapons. Unfortunately, all of the Novo’s weapons fell into that category. Two or three more strikes on that side from it’s heavy energy weapons, or those PPCs, and his reactor would be cracked for sure. Not that any of his remaining lightly damaged facings would last much longer than that.

He pushed his ‘Steed to its maximum speed, drawing the steering yokes to and fro in order to take the Wild Bronco into a slalom. Running in a straight line with his much thinner rear-facing armor exposed to the Queen Novo was the surest way to be brought low by a single alpha strike from the heavy ‘Steed. Of course, as the pilot of the Queen Novo didn’t have to engage in such maneuvers in order to track him with their weapons, it meant that Slipshods ability to grow the distance between them was severely restricted. The earth pony would be dodging enemy fire the whole way to the DropShip.

Assuming that he lived that long.

Another lurch. Another alert from the Wild Bronco’s armor integrity sensors.

The Breezy zipped by in front of him, all four of its barrels blazing away with reckless abandon. Close enough to the stallion that he could see the tips of the machineguns glowing white hot from the sustained fire through the ricochettes that bounced off his cockpit window, leaving behind a web of thin cracks in their wake. That pilot was certainly going to be getting an earful from whatever tech had to do the overhaul later. Slipshod panned and fired his heavy beam weapon, raking indigo energy across the harassing ‘Steed’s tordo. One of the machinegun barrels melted away, its ammunition feed mechanism detonating. The small explosion staggered the ‘Steed, but it managed to scamper out of his firing arc without much issue.

Any satisfaction that the earth pony felt at having cowed the lighter ‘Steed was almost instantly quashed by the convulsion of his cockpit, and the momentary blackening of just about every display screen around him. When the computer rebooted a few seconds later, he noted that his right flank was indicating that it was now devoid of any ablative protection. Another solid hit like that could cut the myomer musculature and cripple him.

He’d be as good as dead at that point.

Another lance of blue light sailed past him and incinerated a grove of trees in his path. It was a strike that, had it been just a few meters to the left, would have crippled his ‘Steed.

Slipshod grit his teeth and let out a frustrated snarl. The DropShip was just a couple minutes out. All he had to do was live long enough for it to arrive. Which meant he needed to make sure that the enemy’s hits were landing in places where he had plenty of protection. Like most ‘Steeds, his Wild Bronco carried its thickest protection on its forward facing areas; because that was―theoretically―the part of a ‘Steed that would most often be exposed to incoming enemy fire in a fight.

If he wanted to take hits, he’d have to be facing the Queen Novo.

The stallion jerked hard to the left and locked his ‘Steed’s rear legs. The back end of the Wild Bronco slid around over the ground, the angular momentum pitching the earth pony hard against his harness. When the move was completed, his hind hooves throttled the behemoth into full reverse. His speed would be half of what it was; but he’d hopefully live at least twice as long now that the enemy had largely unmolested ablative plating to deal with.

His hooves toggled the firing controls for both energy weapons as Slipshod found himself also now in the enviable position of being able to shoot at a properly surprised Breezy pilot. Just about every scrap of plating along the light ‘Steed’s left side dissolved beneath the potent attack. The equine machine stumbled, shuddered, but didn’t fall. It did, however, turn and bolt back in the direction of the firebase. The stallion launched a volley of missiles after the fleeing ‘Steed for good measure, though he doubted that they’d do much additional damage.

At least now he only had the Queen Novo to deal with.

Muzzle flashes in the distance ahead of him caught the earth pony off guard. He spared a second to check on the position of the Blackjenny, but it was still harrying Valkyrie several hundred meters away. The stallion would realize a second after that that the signs of fire that he was seeing were too spread out and too low to the ground to be coming from a singular BattleSteed anyway.

Oh, right. The Scorpion tanks.

The Wild Bronco shuddered and shook as explosive shells shattered the steel and ceramic plating coating it; punctuated by a beam of sapphire heat and coils of prismatic light. Those rainbow columns that didn’t hit his ‘Steed directly invariably landed close enough to interfere with the electronics that Slipshod effectively lost his HUD in its entirety. He was essentially firing blind. Fortunately―for rather broad definitions of ‘fortunate’―the Queen Novo proved a massive enough target that it wasn’t very difficult to hit while firing from the flank like he was.

Of course, there was a pretty evident disparity between the volume―and quality―of firing being exchanged between the two ‘Steeds. Slipshod tried his best to focus his shots on a singular point, with the hope of being able to burrow into the heavy ‘Steed and hit something vital enough to take it out of the fight―even just temporarily―but that was proving to be nearly impossible, given the pummeling his ‘Steed was taking from the Scorpions.

However long he’d thought that his forward-facing plating was going to last, he’d obviously grossly miscalculated. Slipshod prepared to turn his Wild Bronco back around and resume making a run for it and hope that no hits were scored on anything vital. Then, just before he manipulated the control yokes, a vast wall of cerulean slipped in front of him, obscuring his entire field of view. The stallion blinked in shock as he watched what turned out to be a ‘Steed perform what looked like an impossible sequence of maneuvers. It would only be later that he realized what was actually going on.

When most pilots engaged the jump jets of an equipped ‘Steed, it was in an effort to clear a significant obstacle, or even so that they could bypass or flank an opponent. Usually, this involved the ‘Steed in question vaulting dozens of meters into the air and then landing again some distance away in a generally straight line.

That wasn’t what Twilight’s Rainbow Dash was doing.

The alicorn pilot was feathering her heavy ‘Steed’s jump jets so that they just barely lifted the massive equine machine off the ground by less than a meter, so that she could use the maneuvering jets to strafe and yaw. That was how she was able to seemingly glide across the ground in the massive ‘Steed, taking several hits on her as-of-yet-unblemished plating. Nozzles pivoted and flared with plumes of magical violet fire from the Rainbow Dash’s fetlocks as they spun the ‘Steed in a wide arc. As it turned, twin pairs of sapphire and emerald light lanced out and converged on the Queen Novo’s left shoulder.

Assailed by a quartet of searing beams, the joint gave way, staggering the heavy ‘Steed. It was far from being completely out of action, but it did halt the onslaught of fire long enough for Slipshod’s displays to finally stop flickering. He wasted no time in lining up a shot on the same joint and adding to the damage. The limb fell away, leaving behind a smoking nub, collapsing the Novo.

Twilight did not seem to be done with her run though. Her ‘Steed’s jump jets cut out, dropping the Rainbow Dash to the ground once more, skidding through the dirt as it bled off the last of its momentum, coming to rest with one of its hind legs just about touching the front of one of the Scorpion tanks. This proved to have been completely by design, as that metal hoof gave a deft backward flick that lifted the front of the tracked vehicle up off the ground, where it proceeded to balance precariously for a second, before finally toppling over onto its turret and wobbling like a discarded foal’s toy.

The three remaining tanks took clear note of the new arrival, and appeared to all agree that the larger ‘Steed standing in their midst was a far greater threat to them than the battered hulk of Slipshod’s Wild Bronco. However, their turrets were unable to pan around fast enough to accurately track the rainbow-accented ‘Steed that was prancing around them, casually tipping them over one by one until all four of the tanks were left helplessly upended, yet all completely intact. Slipshod suspected that the crews were all relatively unharmed as well―save for a few assorted bruises―though they most assuredly had to be feeling quite put out by the whole ordeal.

Slipshod’s attention was drawn away from what was being done to the tanks as he saw that the Queen Novo was slowly starting to rise back up on it’s three remaining legs. The stallion grunted and took hold of his ‘Steed’s controls, trotting it out of the immediate line of fire as quickly as he could. His Wild Bronco was battered, yes, but still whole, and quite mobile. He had the advantage now, and was prepared to circle and harry the larger ‘Steed in much the same way that the Breezy had been whittling away at him.

Before he could fire though, the earth pony found his field of view once again obscured by a cerulean wall of metal and chromatic highlights. Beams of blue and green light leapt from the Rainbow Dash as it once more skated across the ground, riding upon plumes of purple fire. The readout of the Queen Novo’s condition on Slipshod’s displays showed that the enemy ‘Steed was losing functionality in several of its weapons. Both PPCs had been lost with its leg, but now it was also down two of its three heavy magical energy beams.

The Rainbow Dash slowed and set down standing directly in front of the crippled Queen Novo.

Slipshod heard the alicorn mare’s voice crackle over his headset as she broadcast on a wide-band frequency so that all nearby receivers could hear her, “forces of the Aris Highlanders: stand down! You have only two barely operational BattleSteeds,” the stallion balked and quickly scanned the map display. He saw the marker for the Blackjenny...but noticed that it was no longer actually moving. The blip which served to represent the Breezy was though, but the blue marker that must have been Valkyrie’s Parasprite was just about on top of it. Given the state that Slipshod had left the enemy light ‘Steed in, the pegasus mare’s recon frame would have little issue finishing it off if it gave her cause.

The same went for the Queen Novo, in fact. It still had an operational beam weapon, but the pilot would only get the one shot with it before Twilight responded and likely detonated his reactor core with a concentrated shot. Not that the earth pony suspected that she would. However, the enemy pilot didn’t know that.

“Enough creatures have died today,” the alicorn continued, “there’s nothing to gain by throwing away more lives. Power down your ‘Steeds. Evacuate the firebase.

“We’re here for the infrastructure, not your hides.”

“―not your hides.”

The cinnamon tiercel scowled through the cracked viewport of his cockpit at the enemy ‘Steed. They managed to sucker him into their ambush perfectly. He’d been too blinded by his rage to realize that there had to be more out here than just the single medium ‘Steed and the recon chassis. A Wild Bronco couldn’t have accounted for the volume of missile fire that had been raining down on the base at the onset of the engagement.

He’d just assumed that any attacking forces would have shown themselves the moment his Queen Novo arrived on the scene. After all, if they’d had anything more capable of repelling a heavier ‘Steed like his own, then they’d surely have sent it out earlier and not let him come so close to destroying the Bronco, right? Keeping a heavy ‘Steed back in reserve for so long was not a move that he could have predicted.

To say nothing about anticipating a Rainbow Dash, of all things, to be said heavy ‘Steed!

Where this outfit had managed to dig one up...he couldn’t imagine the money and resources required for such a feat. Whoever these mercenaries were, they were well-equipped and well-financed. Staffed with expert pilots too. He’d only seen jump jet control like that a couple times before in his career. It wasn’t easy to pull off.

The hippogriff’s eyes scanned over the map display as he took a few seconds to assess their situation, and their possible options. Flight Two was down, and Flight Four nearly out of ammunition and badly damaged. Even if that Parasprite stood perfectly still, the Breezy didn’t have the resources to destroy them without at least a resupply.

Meanwhile he was down to a single heavy beam, and both of the ‘Steed’s facing off against him looked to have their full weapons compliments. Resisting was only going to get him killed.

His eyes darted to the smoldering wreckage that had once been Gulfstream’s Pipsqueak. They began to burn with grief. He’d urged her to swap to a heavier chassis. She’d declined, citing her appreciation for the faster and more agile ‘Steed. How now he so desperately wished that he’d pushed harder for her to at least start piloting a medium tonnage ‘Steed. If only he’d…

The tiercel’s foreclaw tightened around the trigger.

It wouldn’t accomplish anything. Not really. Still, that impulse to get any amount of vengeance welled up within him. A last shot, in her name, before he was sent to join his beloved…

Only…

His talons relaxed.

...Only she wouldn’t have wanted that. He knew that much, at least. His death accomplished nothing. It might even get more of his comrades killed back at the base. Gulfstream would never forgive him for that.

The mare was right in that regard: there’d been enough death today. He toggled his radio, “...acknowledged. All Highlander forces, this is Flight Lead: stand down,” he reached up and started powering down his weapons systems.

The future was an uncertain thing. Perhaps, if the universe felt like being kind, he’d happen across these ‘Steed pilots again in the fullness of time, under more favorable circumstances. Then he’d be able to properly avenge his wife’s death.

That thought gave him at least a modicum of comfort.

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