Leg in each sleeve. Zip the front. Scarf on. Cap on. Goggles on. Harness on. Check clasps.

Firefly had repeated the process so many times that she could have done it in her sleep. But sleep was the last thing on her mind. Instead, there was a spring in her step that drove her forward. A barely concealed grin crossed her face as she slipped into her gear, the warm caress of freshly laundered combat uniform enveloping her like a second skin.

In the wake of the attack on Onyx, combat sorties had escalated to a fever pitch. VFA-108 squads were on sortie nearly every day. In addition, the Majestic and its support vessels had been deployed farther into the Outer Rim with each mission. To most ponies, it was a chore. But to Firefly, it was invigorating. She practically skipped down the corridor to the quarters of her squadmates.

“Up and at ‘em, lazyflanks! CAG wants us in the ready room ten minutes ago!” She barked.

“Good to see you, too, jefa,” Thunderlane said as he hopped to his hooves. “Should I get the bucket of snow to wake up the old sire or will a buck to the ribs do?”

“You do either and I’ll kick your ass off the flight deck!” Sunburst growled from his bunk.

“And if you don’t get up, I’ll kick your ass off the flight deck!” Firefly retorted. “Get up!”

“I’m up! I’m up!” Sunburst groaned as he stood.

The last few weeks had been brutal. Enemy contact was made on every sortie and nearly every encounter Firefly had fought involved exchange of gunfire. Tensions ran high. Firefly could feel it in the sterile recirculated air of the Majestic’s corridors. The very metal of the decks seemed to reverberate with unspoken excitement.

“So what’s on the docket today, jefa?” Thunderlane said as the trotted out of crew quarters. “Another force recon run into the Outer Rim?”

The rapid pace of combat operations had been a baptism by fire for the squad. Thunderlane had relaxed considerably, swapping out the usual “commander this” and “commander that” for a more casual jefa; “boss” as he translated it from his father’s native tongue. Firefly ordinarily bristled at strange titles, but Thunderlane’s good nature was contagious, even warming Firefly up to the title.

Thunderlane himself had grown up for certain. Team cohesion was tighter than ever before and any questioning was with regards to who had to pay for drinks on shore leave. This was the kind of squad Firefly was used to working with. This was Firefly’s greatest weapon. No bruise, shrapnel cut, or concussion could take away from her the sheer euphoria of fighting as part of a well-oiled war machine.

“CAG didn’t say exactly what it was,” Firefly continued. “But I’ve got a good feeling about this. It’s going to be something big.”

“Yeah well let’s hope the biggest thing we have to deal with is the massive shit Eastwind took last night. Damn thing stank up the whole head,” Sunburst grumbled through a yawn. “I’d love to be able to go back to bed until our scheduled CAP this afternoon.”

“Still need more sleep? I shouldn’t be surprised. Gotta save up a whole week’s worth just to disappoint one junior flier this weekend huh, abuelo?” Thunderlane cracked.

“You shut your horse mouth, kid!” Sunburst’s eyes narrowed into a mock glare, to which Thunderlane responded to with a cheerful nicker.

Sunburst, of course, was himself. Half real grump, half joking lecher, all Sunburst. Despite his complaints, he kept pace with air wing operations even under Firefly’s unorthodox leadership style. Age, it appeared, was not a defining factor of combat prowess.

“Funny. I thought he was right on point!” Eastwind slinked into formation, falling in at Firefly’s side.

“Well look who it is; little miss Breakwind herself!” Sunburst jeered.

“That’s little miss Rainbows and Sparkles to you, Sunshine!”

Firefly couldn’t help but crack a smile. Eastwind’s impish demeanor and crass humor was a staple of squadron banter, the running joke being that she had even begun to corrupt Thunderlane. Whether the rookie officer would begin cracking dirty jokes on his own was another matter entirely, however.

Firefly herself had changed. She was sleeping better than she had in weeks and every morning she woke up energized. Firefly wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of being in active combat again or if the electric attitudes on a vessel at war were contagious. Either way, it was a welcome change from the previous scutwork of CAPs in empty sky and long patrols into the Outer Rim.

“All right, that’s enough!” Firefly raised her voice to cut them off. “I’m the flight leader, not the foalsitter! Celestia and Luna you guys are catty...”

“I know the feeling, Firefly.”

All heads turned to origin of the voice. The signature toothy reptilian grin of a sorcerer-dragon greeted the Timberwolves. In tow were the other dragons of her ACG team, fully clad in combat gear in preparation for their next sortie.

“Good to see you again, Roshina,” Firefly said, raising her hoof to Roshina.

“Likewise, Firefly.” Roshina returned the hoof gesture with a closed fist, bumping it against Firefly’s hoof in greeting. “Where are they sending you today? Yet another re-emerged village in the wastes?”

“No clue, actually. But we were scheduled for a late afternoon CAP today, so screwing us out of that schedule means we must be doing something special. What about you?”

“The same. Something big is happening. The captain is very picky about his schedules.”

“Hey, hey! Esse! What up?” Thunderlane’s voice cut through the conversation, momentarily drawing Firefly’s ear.

“Excuse me?” Khog said, surprisingly more confused than annoyed.

Thunderlane’s cheeriness remained unfazed. “It’s like bro! You got a word for that in your language?”

“As in brother?” The warrior dragon crossed his arms and continued to eye Thunderlane with a quizzical expression.

“Comrade, brother, chum, somepony you’re the best of friends with, somepony who’d take a bullet for you! You know?”

“Wror is ‘brother’ in our language.” Khog looked thoughtful for a moment. “Dragons do not have that metaphor like you describe. The language is very formal compared to Common. Most clan dragons, after all, are solitary creatures after they come of age.”

“You’ve got a long way to go, Rojo!” Thunderlane laughed.

Khog snorted in consternation.

“We should be inside,” Roshina said. “The CAG will be expecting us.”

“Right on,” Firefly nodded. “Timberwolves! Tighten it up! We’re off to briefing!”

The two flights filed into the ready room as they had done many times before. Firefly halted as she crossed the hatch threshold. Instead of the handful of flights from her squadron, the small auditorium-like chamber was packed with fliers. A quick scan of the crowd showed familiar faces. Atal and Forge from the armory, Storm Shadow and Medley from Taipan flight; it seemed the Majestic’s entire air wing and its support elements had assembled there.

Thunderlane whistled in awe. “You were right, jefa. Something big is going down. Last time I saw something like this was before they shipped me out!”

“Don’t expect refreshments and a parade like academy graduation, kid,” Sunburst grunted gruffly. “Big gatherings when you’re at war means bad news.”

“Find a space. Looks like we’re SRO.”

Firefly shuffled between standing fliers in the back of the ready room, clearing out space for her team in the gathered crowd. Idle conversation buzzed all around her, most pertaining to the inanities of life aboard ship, but enough slipping into rumors of operations and maneuvers for her to know that she was not the only curious pony in the room. The rest of her squad slipped into the gap she had created, all eagerly awaiting the news.

“Commander on deck!” The call to attention rapidly spread throughout the ready room, setting off a chain reaction of standing up and salutes.

“As you were,” came the immediate response.

Brahma Kamal made her entrance. Her dress was impeccable as usual, her uniform pressed to regulation and her garrison cap visor polished to a mirror sheen. It could have been another ordinary pre-sortie briefing in the ready room, but the look on Brahma’s face told a different story. There was a strange mix of grave concern and muted excitement in her stony commander’s visage. Finally reaching the podium, she began.

“Let me begin by saying I’m proud of all of you for your diligence and dedication, especially in the last few weeks.” A faint murmur went up in the gathered fliers at the strange beginning, though it quickly dissipated when Brahma raised a hoof, asking for silence. “We have been at war in all but name. Let me reassure you that the fights we've been in, the losses we've sustained, they are not in vain.”

The projection screen behind the commander flickered to life. “Last night, we got the big break we needed. The Royal Equestrian Intelligence Network has identified the one who’s pulling the strings.”

The pony manning the projector shifted to the first slide at Brahma’s nod. The photograph shown was faded and worn, with black marks along the edges to suggest that it had suffered fire damage. The weathered nature of the image, however, did nothing to marr the visage of the griffon presented to the squadron. Her plumage was variegated black and white, with mottled chest feathering and a prominent black cap for a crest. Streaks of grey cut amongst the feathers of her neck, marking scars where blade, bullet, and shrapnel had failed to finish her.

"Colonel Kira Cindermane. They call her Pernach; the mace. The Aquellian Agency for Strategic Intelligence, REIN, and Stallian Guard Rangers have been after her since the end of the war.”

The slides cycled, showing a worn order of battle chart with Cindermane at the top. “Cindermane’s battalion, the Red Talons, had previously seen action both in Indrek against Indrekan Revolutionary Army and in Alcea against the REA. Shortly before the Battle of Valdus, they went rogue, taking the entire airship lance with them.”

Firefly stared into the cold eyes of the griffon marine officer. Even in the file photograph, her uncompromising nature shone through. Her face was hardened by time and tempered in flame. There was passion in those eyes, a burning ferocity that matched Firefly’s own, but there was no mercy to be found. Cindermane’s features bore an edge sharp enough to maim even the most gallant flier’s courage.

“...Expect heavy resistance from the last remnants of the Aquellian nationalists and the latest and greatest griffon military hardware...”

Firefly scanned the slew of medals pinned to Cindermane’s uniform. Purple Heart with stars for injury in combat. Combat Action Ribbon. Expert Marksman Badge. Aquellian Marine Special Tactics Group tabs. Finally, her eyes fell upon the inconspicuous award device at the bottom of her commendation boards.

“...Cindermane seems to think that she can carve out a slice of paradise from the Crystal Empire with extortion and intimidation. As you well know, the Alliance doesn’t negotiate with terrorists...”

Firefly couldn’t take her eyes off the medal. It bore the insignia of an iron helm with crossed lightning bolts beneath superimposed upon a hoplon shield. There was only one word that came to Firefly’s mind.

Ironclad.

“Jefa.”

Thunderlane’s terse whisper broke Firefly out of her fugue. His hoof rested on her shoulder, the look of concern on his face obvious when Firefly finally met his gaze. Eastwind and Sunburst watched through the corners of their eyes just beyond him, but nopony else seemed to have noticed. Firefly took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She gently brushed Thunderlane’s hoof off her shoulder and motioned with her head back toward Brahma.

Everything was fine.

“When we find where she’s hiding, we will go after Cindermane. Until then, we must take steps to draw her out.”

More text from the dossier jumped out at her. The Assault on Graeae’s Cauldron. Counterinsurgency operations against INDRA. Battle of Aureus. The Defense of Argent Battery. There was no mistake; Cindermane was a war hero. With her combat record, she was also a brilliant tactician. She would be a dangerous foe indeed.

The slides continued to advance, showing photographs of a massive vessel, a floating behemoth of metal and altus envelopes. The design bore evidence of Aquellian design, including the signature beak-like prow and heavy armor plate. Despite the marks of griffon naval engineers, the vessel did not appear to be a warship. Its lines were bulky and unaerodynamic, its gun batteries strew haphazardly across what would have been the flight deck on a ship like the Majestic. Most strikingly of all, a colossal web of metal lattice rose from its dorsal spine where a warship's superstructure would sit. The lattice enclosed a cluster of globular metal tanks and a conspicuous tower in the middle.

Echoing her thoughts, Thunderlane let slip, "What in the hay is that?"

“This is the Titan’s Keeper. It is of the Colossus-class, one of the largest vessels ever produced. The entire ship is configured as a mobile LACE refinery, ideal for supporting expeditionary operations.”

The next slide moved into place, a telephoto shot showing the Colossus resting on the ground. All around it was lush forest. If Firefly squinted, she could make out the silhouettes of griffon soldiers on patrol around it.

“Cindermane’s fleet contained at least four of these vessels and our scouts have located two. If we capture these, we starve Cindermane’s fleet. Breaking her ability to maneuver freely will ensure that we have the advantage in offensive operations. And before you ask, the Titan’s Keeper is still Aquellian government property and the griffons would greatly appreciate it if it was returned to them in one piece.”

“Well there went plan A,” Eastwind chuckled under her breath. Firefly couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Today we begin Operation Northern Lance,” Brahma continued as the image shifted to a topographical map with overlaid arrows indicating fleet movements. “You will be joined by elements of the Hesperian 5th Fleet, Gold Lance from the Aquellian 1st Aerie, and 74th Regiment from the Stallian Guard Rangers. Hesperian Commandos from 3rd Regiment and Aquellian marines from 1st Aerie will provide ground support. The Ward of the Empyrean and her battlegroup will be making a similar attack to our east as part of the operation.”

“Our first objective will be to seize the Titan’s Keeper. The Keeper is currently parked on top of an aetherium vein in the Azura Oasis. They can’t exactly pack up the operation quickly, so this is our opportunity to strike.”

“Kick ‘em in the stones while they’re popping a squat,” Sunburst snickered. “I like it already!”

“Garm, Garuda, and Phoenix teams will launch far north of the base,” Brahma continued. “They will provide cover for Aquellian Marines from 1st Aerie as they set up anti-air defenses and ASTRA blimps. If the Talons run north, they’ll hit that wall.”

The slide changed, showing icons with the squad insignias of Firefly’s team and their sister units. “Hydra, Manticore, and Timberwolf will approach from the south. You will establish air superiority and provide security for ground forces as they clear the oasis.”

“Enemy strength is expected to be company-sized; small, but determined and well-entrenched...”

As Brahma went on with the briefing, Firefly quickly glanced around the room. All around, fliers looked to each other before looking back at the projection screen. The nervous tension was palpable. Everypony was practically chomping at the bit to launch, including Firefly herself. This was it. This was the big push. No more busywork, no more CAPs in secure airspace. They were finally going on the offensive.

“... any questions?” Brahma finished.

“Only one, ma’am.” Firefly replied immediately. “When do we start?”

Author's Notes:

Part 1 of 3. This will constitute introduction of the villains and the end of the exposition. The meat of the story begins here and I'm really excited to bring it to you guys. I cannot honestly give you ETAs on the other parts of the arc, but be assured that they are getting worked on as I can manage. Packing to move and planning a wedding tend to make writing difficult.