“Doctor Edros, the subjects are ready.”

“Good. How did the memory imprints fare?”

“Perfect, sir. Only two deceased and the rest are obedient and incredibly capable in combat.”

“Excellent.... This project is turning out to be very productive.”

Altas opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the mask set upon his face, displaying a sizeable amount of data to him; a standard motion tracker, suit status readout, and a complete body diagnostic package. He was clad in a full suit of armor, yet he felt light: as if wearing normal clothes. He was standing amongst a line of men and women, all of similar size and encased in the same armor. In front of the line were several smaller men and women, wearing white coats and surgical masks.

“Prepare them for dispatch.”

Atlas closed his eyes and shook his head. When he finished blinking, he found himself standing inside a large chamber filled with broken screens, lights, and consoles. Parts of the room were melted and still glowing red, and corpses littered the floor, their blood a glossy black as it pooled around them.

He and two other men, both significantly shorter than him, were kneeling down. Before them, another man sat against the wall, a hand clutched to his eviscerated stomach. His visor’s display highlighted the three men as Corporal Becker, Lieutenant Allen, and Admiral Geovan.

“Admiral,” Becker said, “We need to go, come on!”

“No,” the man lying on the floor groaned as he adjusted his position. “You go; I’ll hold them back. Head to the Phobos...”

Atlas, Becker, and Allen stood up, nodding.

“Go!” the Admiral said between coughs.

The two other men began sprinting out of the room, followed by Atlas’ booming footsteps. As they left the Admiral behind, they began running through metallic corridors, holding their weapons close to them. The occasional explosion shook the floor under their feet. Several doors along the corridors were being pulled open by pursuing machines, which began chasing after them. The occasional corpse had to be vaulted, all while dodging several plasma projectiles that were launched in their direction, most of which were absorbed by Atlas’ shielding.

They reached a large service highway within the installation, one that coiled around facility’s entire length. From a small window, Atlas could see an earth-like planet, meaning that he was inside either a ship or an orbital station.

Crates sat on the sides of the road, some of which Atlas grabbed and placed in front of the door between them and the machines.

“What do we do now?” the corporal asked, panting.

“Look, over there!” The lieutenant pointed towards a cluster of crates, where a single, four-wheeled truck was parked, meant to carry supplies back and forth around the installation. The three men ran up to it and took their seats, with Atlas sitting on the back and the other two on the front, Allen being on the driver’s seat. He turned it on and hit the gas, driving down the large highway.

“And what’s your big plan with this?!” yelled the corporal.

“Just hold on!... There!”

On the far side of the road was a massive hole, probably caused by an explosion. The vacuum of space was sucking out what remained of the facility’s artificial atmosphere, taking crates, pipes, and mangled corpses with it. The lieutenant began to accelerate, going as fast as possible towards the hole while the corporal held tightly to his seat.

“Atlas, give us a boost!”

“On it.” The giant grabbed hold of both sides of the vehicle, and lit up his suit’s thrusters, causing the small vehicle to take on even more speed. They sped through explosions, flying debris, and plasma projectiles before exiting into dead space. Even then, Atlas continued to accelerate the transport, in addition to maneuvering it through the field of debris that was drifting outside the installation. A corpse collided with the vehicle, before spinning off further into space.

All that was left now was crackle his radio and the low growl of his thrusters. He looked back at the massive space station that they had just escaped from, as well as the supercarrier approaching the planet.

A strained laugh was heard through the radio. “I’m taking you all with me! That's right! When you get to hell, tell 'em your tickets came courtesy one Admiral Fucking Geovan of the U. S. Goddamn-" His voice cut out with a burst of static as the station collided with its target, both of them breaking, and sending even more chunks of metal into the void of space where they subsequently exploded. Atlas watched in silence as the two constructions created a large ball of fire, sending broken pieces all across.

Atlas let go of the vehicle’s sides and grabbed both of the men sitting on the front, and then resumed his flight towards another ship, the USS Phobos.

The giant shook his head, looking around the dropship he was in. Half a dozen heavy troopers stood inside with him, as well as Corporal Allen. Also in the ship with them were an equal number of ponies wearing golden armor, and Princess Celestia. They were currently heading towards the isolated regiment of the ponies’ army, in order to bring medical aid and supplies.

“Remember, these ponies do not know what your purpose is, nor do they know what you are,” Celestia said.

Atlas nodded. “Got it.” He looked over to the troopers and spoke into his radio, “Be aware that these particular ponies don’t know that we’re going to be aiding them, or even what we are. Do you copy?”

“Yes, sir,” came several voices through the radio channel.

“Commander, this is Hellrider six. It appears we have found the quadrupeds’ army, over,” a man spoke through the radio.

“Copy that, Hellrider.” Atlas looked over at the Princess. “Touch us down, over.”

The dropship began its slow descent, carefully landing on the ground and turning off its engines while the ramp lowered itself. Outside, a cacophony of voices reached the ears of those inside the dropship. Ponies could be heard galloping around, but it soon stopped as the ramp finally touched the ground.

The ponies had taken up a defensive formation, standing in a line in front of the ship, but once Celestia and her guards trotted out into the night, they all dropped their weapons and their jaws. Following her were Atlas and the other humans.

Atlas watched silently as a single pony broke away from the group, his coat as white as snow under a set of purple armor with golden highlights. He took off his helmet as he approached the Princess, revealing a blue mane. Once he was within talking distance, he bowed down. “It is nice to see you again, Princess.”

“Rise, Captain Shining Armor,” she said, bearing her best warm smile. “It is nice to see you, as well.”

Shining Armor stood up and turned around towards the group of gawking ponies. “Disperse! Move on and continue your tasks!”

The ponies did as told, starting to move away from the Princess and the humans, going back to their tents or resuming their conversations near campfires, but still stealing glances at the humans every now and again.

“And I’m afraid it’s Colonel Shining Armor,” the pony said as he turned back to the Princess.

“It is most understandable.” The Princess took a few steps to the side, making way for Atlas to look at the colonel.

“I’m Divisional Commander Atlas of the Colonial Guard,” the giant said, taking a few steps forward. “Pleasure to meet you.” He leaned down and offered his hand to the pony, who placed his hoof on the man’s hand, followed by a strong shake.

Atlas stood straight again, looking down at the colonel. “We’re here to bring medical assistance and supplies.” He pointed upwards, where several dropships were hovering above the camp. “I just need your permission for our dropships to land.”

Shining Armor nodded. “Granted.”

“This is Commander Atlas to all dropships, landing is permitted, begin unloading troops and supplies, over.”

All of the dropships above the camp began touching down, searching for whichever area had enough space for them. Soon, the camp was filled with both humans and ponies walking to and fro, carrying supplies into tents and handing them over to those who most needed them.

Shining Armor sighed, “We have been cut off for four months now.” He began trotting across the camp, followed by the Princess and Atlas, including their guards. “General Strong Helm and Colonel Duty Driven were killed in action, and I was forced to take a field promotion.” He pointed at several tents, where human medics could be seen bringing aid to the ponies. Atlas looked at Allen, who immediately set off and walked into a tent with an injured pony.

“We have many injured soldiers and a lack of proper food,” the colonel continued. “Your appearance is a gift from the heavens.”

Atlas huffed, “Literally.”

The group followed the colonel into a tent. Inside were several beds with injured ponies, covered in bandages, and some even missing limbs. The colonel walked to a particular bed which had a large, red stallion on it. His body was covered in bandages and a cast was set on his left foreleg.

“Sergeant Macintosh?” The colonel gingerly nudged the unconscious stallion with his hoof.

“Colonel?” the stallion mumbled, slowly opened his eyes, and looked up at the Princess and the humans. “Princess Celestia? And... who are those?”

“It does not matter right now, they’re here to help us.” The colonel looked at Atlas. “Can you call a medic?”

Atlas nodded and turned around, spotting a nearby medic who was walking around the tent. “Hey,” he called, “come here!”

The medic walked over to him. “Yes sir?”

The giant pointed at the red stallion, not saying a word. The medic understood, and knelt down next to the bed.

“Mmmh...” Celestia looked worriedly at the colonel while the medic began to take the bandages off of the pony. “I know this stallion. He is the brother of Applejack, bearer of the Element of Honesty, is he not?” she asked, with a touch of concern on her voice.

“Yes, the brother of one of my sister’s friends.”

The medic applied biogel to the stallion’s wounds, a green gel with nanites designed to treat moderate lacerations, then replaced the bandages. The colonel leaned in and pointed to the pony’s right back leg, which was still bandaged. The human took the hint, and began to gingerly undo the bandages covering the leg, yet the stallion still winced, despite the medic’s care.

Once the covers were gone, what was revealed to the group was a swollen limb laced with several cuts, many of which oozed yellow, foul-smelling pus. The fur surrounding the wounds was matted with dry blood and peeling away, displaying the deteriorating skin hidden underneath.

“Our doctors have not made any progress,” said the colonel. “And he refuses to get it amputated.”

The medic looked at him from behind his expressionless faceplate. “The infection will keep spreading, there’s no other way. He’s too weak for anesthesia... Give him something to bite.”

A nearby pony nurse heard the request, and picked up a little chunk of wood with her mouth, offering it to the medic. Apprehension over the gigantic bipeds was forgotten, as duty to the injured took precedence for the time being.

Upon realizing what was happening, the stallion began to thrash in his bed, forcing the colonel and a few other nurses that happened to be nearby to hold him down.

“I’m sorry...” the colonel said.

The stallion opened his mouth to say something, but the medic took the chance to place the bit of wood into it. “Hold him tight.” He retrieved a blade that was kept on his hip, its edges glowing blue with plasma. The stallion's eyes grew wide with abject horror as he watched the plasma knife draw closer to his leg.

With a swift punch to the leg, the medic broke the bone and then quickly drove the blade through the red stallion’s muscle, effectively cutting it from the rest of the pony’s body while also cauterizing it.

It fell off cleanly, while the stallion screamed in agony and bit the chunk of wood as hard as he could, to the point in which it broke. The nurses fought hard to keep him down, before he was dragged into the depths of unconsciousness.

After sighing in relief, the nurses let go of him, but the human medic remained impassive, silently watching the stallion. He brought his hand to the pony’s neck, checking his pulse.

“He’s having a heart attack...” The ponies gasped and rushed over to the stallion as the medic clasped his palms together, making electricity flow through them. Atlas and the other humans moved the ponies away from the red stallion, allowing the medic to place his hands on each side of his ribs. “Clear!” The electrical charge on his palms discharged itself through the pony, making his body rise and then fall.

The entire group watched silently, and most of them released a sigh of relief once they saw the slow movement of the stallion’s chest.

“I’m going to have to remain here and make sure he’s stable,” said the medic.

“Right,” Atlas said, turning to the colonel. “Let’s move on?”

“Very well,” he sighed.

Shining Armor led the group outside, just in time to see the moon dive below the horizon. Celestia smiled and spread her wings open.

“Trottingham has been liberated.” She leapt into the air, and slowly the sun began to rise, hiding the stars behind the blue sky of the morning.

“You liberated Trottingham?” the colonel asked.

“Indeed we did,” responded Atlas.

The Princess touched ground again, smiling. “And they have also sent an embassy to Gryphus.”

“Commander Atlas, this is Vector control, do you copy?” asked a woman through Atlas’ radio.

“Loud and clear, control.”

“There is a mass of individuals to the north, we assume it is the enemy troops. It looks like they’re retreating, burning camps and salting the ground on their way.”

Atlas huffed, “Copy that.”

“What happened?” the Princess asked.

“They’re retreating.”