The old, gruff man folded his arms as he looked at the console, which displayed the scarred face of another man in return. “He was an old friend, Jack. I promised I would get him out of there... It took me nearly two hundred years. I’m surprised that you don’t understand; you’ve always kept your promises.”

“I do, Admiral, but why keep us here? Why not return? Are you scared of death?”

“No. I don’t care if I die or not. Both Atlas and I agreed to turn ourselves in after the Ubor war. We wanted to die together, like brothers... I never meant for this to happen.”

“What about the MAC unit, and the convict?” Jack asked, his face contorting into a frown.

“The MAC was salvaged by Atlas in the Graveyard, he refused to leave without it. Torres is the granddaughter of a friend of Atlas and myself... I wanted to ease the pain of re-integration by adding people with similar names, such as Sergeant Morrison and Corporal Allen... The MAC and Torres agreed to perform a suicide mission after zeta-twenty, but there were complications, as you can see.”

“Then what’s holding you back from returning? What’s the point of establishing relations with these primitives?”

“We needed the supplies, Commander, and we cannot just take food from them and risk starving an entire planet.”

“Every minute we stay here puts our lives at risk. We need to go back.”

“I know, Jack. I’m trying my best, just be patient...”

“No... not anymore,” were the man’s last words as the feed cut off.

Admiral Becker sighed, taking his eyes away from the console. “What are you doing, Jack?”

Atlas smiled, adjusting his sitting position and folding his arms. It had been the first time in months that he had gotten to eat meat. Nobody really knew from where or what it came from. He only received a shrug by the trooper handling the rations, and the words: “Brought by the changelings”. He didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t care in any way. His meal had been delicious.

Even so, it did not seem to soften the tense ambiance of the mess hall. Conversations were still made in whispers, but Atlas had come to the conclusion that it was not only because of his presence. He had been told that it was like that in all parts of the ship.

He sighed and looked through the digital window, observing the bright planet that the Vector was orbiting. It was had been years since he had seen a planet like that. All he remembered were the vast amounts of junk and dust of the so called “Graveyard”: his home for almost two hundred years.

“Feelin’ alright?” Torres asked, prompting Atlas to turn to her. On the table was the rest of his team: Morris, Allen, and Mac, who all regarded him with a curious stare.

“I’m fine,” he said, shrugging. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Allen replied, chuckling and returning his attention to his food.

“Atlas,” came a voice from his radio. He pressed a finger against his ear and listened. “Come in...”

“Who’s that?” Morris asked.

“Becker,” Atlas muttered. “Yeah, Admiral. Loud and clear.”

“Something’s going on. I’m not quite sure what it is, but I just lost contact with half the ship.”

“What?” Atlas looked around the mess hall just as several conversations died out, and various troopers placed their faceplates on in complete silence.

“I think... Oh no.”

The lights of the hall shut off, including the windows. “Becker? Are you there?” the giant asked, receiving nothing but static.

A lone gunshot lit up the room, followed by several more. Atlas’ eyes shot open as he reflexively stood up and reached for his faceplate, interrupted by a projectile hitting his chest.

He lost his balance and fell down into the darkness, hitting his head against a nearby wall. More gunshots reached his ears, complete with the sounds of fighting and guttural screams. He opened his eyes to see nothing, only hearing the footsteps of several troopers leaving the mess hall as the noise of the fighting faded into the distance.

Atlas groaned as he stood up, prodding the darkness in hopes of finding his faceplate. “Torres! Mac!” he called out.

In an instant, the lighting turned back on. He covered his eyes as they adjusted to the sudden change in brightness, then glanced about the mess hall. Several troopers lay in the metallic floor, either dead or unconscious. Bullet holes and blood riddled the walls: paintings of a brutal fight.

He reached down and picked up his faceplate, then placed it over his face. He looked down at his chest while his suit’s display lit up, glad that the bullet he had taken only reached his armor.

On the opposite end of the room was Torres, sitting against a wall. Atlas ran up to her and crouched down. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” the woman groaned. “Someone sent me flying across the hall...”

Atlas frowned and picked up Torres’ faceplate, handing it to her. “What doesn’t kill you,” he said as she placed it over her face. He then grabbed her by her neck guard and lifted her up. “... is going to die.” The giant released her and turned back, motioning for her to follow. “Now come on.”

The two walked across the mess hall, silently watching as the downed troopers helped each other up. Atlas spotted Mac and Morris crouching down by Allen, who lay on the floor.

“Allen,” he asked as he walked over to them. “What happened?”

“Shotgun,” the injured medic coughed out as he moved his hand off of his belly, revealing a burning hole, causing Atlas’ frown to grow more pronounced.

“Can you raise the Admiral?” Morris asked, looking over at the android.

“Negative,” Mac replied. “Nearly every comm channel is disabled. I will continue with my attempts, but I suggest another solution.”

Torres spoke up, grabbing both of the pistols held by the magnetic locks on her hips, “I’ve got one, Atlas. Let’s get to the bridge.”

The giant nodded. “Let’s do that. Meanwhile, you two help Allen.” He leaned down, looking at the medic. “You don’t get to die on me, you got that?” he said before turning away and taking the heavy gauss rifle that was set on his back. “Let’s go, T.”

“You got it!”

Atlas and Torres ran up to the mess hall’s entrance, and flanked the doorway. The woman peeked around the corner and nodded, walking out into the hallways with both of her guns being trained down-range. Following her, the giant aimed his heavy rifle around, careful should any hostiles pop up.

They both looked at each other and nodded. Without saying a word, they began to sprint down the hallways, the raider’s steps quiet and fast, followed by the titan’s loud thumps that were produced each time his feet collided with the floor.

“Over here!” Torres exclaimed, leading the man into a tram station. She vaulted over a corpse laying in the middle of the room, whereas Atlas simply stepped on it, causing the chest to cave in with a loud crunch. He looked around the station, gripping his rifle tightly. There were a few troopers laying around that his display highlighted as “incapacitated”, complete with blood sprayed on the walls.

Torres walked over to the station’s console and typed into it. “Shazbot... this might take a while.”

“Over here!” someone called out. Atlas turned to the hallways and aimed his rifle, spotting the shadows of several troopers making their way to the tram station. He flicked off the safety and adjusted his position.

The raider continued managing the console. “Crap, cover me!”

“On it!” Atlas ran up to the body he had stepped on and picked it up with one hand, using it as a shield. The troopers rounded the corner to the station and aimed their weapons at the giant.

“It’s the mutie! Shoot it!”

“Oh, fuck that!” a trooper said, as several of them turned on their heels and ran away. The few that chose to stay opened fire. Atlas gripped the corpse tightly as bullets began to hit it. He aimed his rifle with one hand and fired a few rounds, hitting one of the men in the neck.

He tossed the mangled corpse away and moved his free hand over to his hips.

“Watch out, grenade!” they yelled as he pulled an explosive off of his belt and threw it at the men. They leaped out of the way and resulting blast hit one of them, sending him flying into a wall. He crashed into it and fell dead.

Atlas looked over at Torres, who busily worked on the console. “Status!?” he yelled as a few projectiles zipped past him.

“Just a few more seconds!”

The titan released a bestial war-cry as he began to unload his rifle onto the men. A swarm of bullets hit him, most being absorbed by the energy shields of his suit, while the rest hit his armor and dug into his body. He grunted and ignored the pain, continuing to fire, taking out several of the men.

“There!” Torres exclaimed as a tram slowed to a stop, opening its doors. She wrapped her hands on her pistols and aimed them at the remaining troopers, pressing the trigger and sending two bullets that then hit two of them square in the head.

Torres and Atlas then moved into the tram, firing a few more rounds as the doors closed and the cart began to move. The troopers outside sent a few more projectiles at the tram which only hit the windows, before it sped into the gravityless vacuum of the Vector’s inner system. All that sustained those inside were its own gravitational field and atmosphere, while going at a supersonic speed across the ship.

Atlas and Torres reloaded their weapons, then looked at each other. “You okay?” Torres asked, looking at the man’s wounds.

“Just a flesh wound,” he replied. “The suit will take care of it.”

“Uh-huh... Get down!” the woman yelled, just as another tram bumped into theirs. Atlas turned around, seeing another cart filled with men just behind them, who broke the windows and opened fire on them.

Atlas crouched down as the windows of his tram shattered, prompting the vacuum to suck out the air that was inside. He popped out of cover and aimed his rifle, taking out a couple of them before going back to cover.

“This is Commander Zatuk to all units,” a man spoke over the radio, his voice distorted by static. “Do not use the trams! The system’s gone haywire!”

Torres reloaded her pistols. “A little too late for that!”

The giant shook his head, then grabbed a hold of his last grenade, tossing it into the tram behind them. The explosion caused it to derail, taking the entire group of men with it. He peeked over his cover to see another cart speeding through the opposite rail. It slowed down as it caught up to them, and the troopers inside opened fire, swarming the tram with bullets. Atlas and Torres looked at each other and nodded before going out of cover and unloading their weapons.

His third heart began to pump him full of adrenaline and other chemicals. Time seemed to slow down as his heavy rifle fired, watching as the projectiles pierced the men’s shields, armor, and flesh. He looked to the front of the road, seeing a crashed tram on the way. He placed his rifle on his back and grabbed the raider, taking a running jump into the opposing cart.

They both fell down into the new tram with a loud thud, before the previous one crashed. Atlas stood up and kicked the one remaining trooper in the chest, sending him out of the tram and into the path of another going in the opposite direction. He then helped Torres up and grabbed a hold of his rifle.

“How... How far are we from the bridge?” Torres asked in between breaths.

Atlas shook his head and checked his suit’s display. “Not too far now...” He motioned towards the tram’s control console. “Set it to stop by the bridge.”

“On it,” Torres said. She placed her pistols on her hips and walked over to the small terminal, where she began to type. “ETA is... ten seconds.”

The titanic man held his rifle close, aiming it at the door as the tram slowed down. Once it completely halted, the broken set of doors sparked. He looked around the bridge’s station, noticing signs of a recent battle, but nothing else. For once, everything was silent as he walked out of the cart.

It appeared that the fight was over.

Out in Equestria, the sky lit up with a million falling stars...