Falling Stars Ch 12 Part 1

Desperadoes Main Camp
Manehattan, Occupied Zone
September 18th AD 3070/1023 RC

"Are you sure about this?" O'Connell asked, his voice gruff.

Kilroy shrugged from where he stood next to his commanding officer. "Not entirely," he said, answering not only for himself but also for the pale blue unicorn pony standing nearby. And no doubt listening in, as well, the second in command of the Desperadoes thought. "But if you want help, boss, this is one of our better bets."

Garth grunted at that as he crossed his arms. "But are these griffons worth it, though?" He asked, even as he peered to the northern sky, dark as it was with the sun setting to the west. "If they were a real power to contend with then shouldn't they have been at the horse-things' throats before we came?"

"Given what the big white one did, are you surprised they're not?" Kilroy countered.

"Humph," O'Connell grunted. "Fair enough. So how are they supposed to help us anyway?"

"Bodies on the ground," Kilroy said, and then smirked a bit. "Or in the air, anyway. There's still a good many of them, and they're supposed to be vicious." He paused then to glance towards Trixie, who had the good presence of mind to shuffle a bit at the brief silence. "Or so I have been told," Kilroy added, and then turned back to O'Connell. "But if they're anything like the old myths that half the stuff here is like, then they should be fierce enough."

"I'll believe it when I see it," O'Connell said. "Speaking of which, I'm guessing that's them?" He asked, raising an arm to point towards a cluster of specks that had appeared in the darkening sky.

"Looks like 'em," Kilroy replied, and then lifted up a pair of binoculars he was carrying to his eyes. A quick focus and zoom later revealed the image of twelve creatures that he recognized from mythology. "Yup, that's them alright," he said, and then lowered the binoculars. "Twelve of 'em."

"Two from each tribe," Trixie added, risking the ire of the humans for speaking out of turn. "That is the traditional griffon arrangement for negotiations."

Garth shot the little pony a harsh look, but otherwise let her interruption slide. "Good," he said, and then reached down for a radio handset clipped to his belt, which he quickly brought up to his mouth. "Grimes, we got our guests coming in from the north, twelve of 'em."

"I have them on radar," the voice of the Red Skye's captain replied. "I'll have fire control mark them as neutral."

"Good, but keep an eye on the scopes for any surprises," O'Connell replied, and then returned the handset back to his belt after Grimes' affirmative reply. "Alright, let's get the others and make these guys welcome."

        * * * *

"I would have never thought flying over a pony city would be so easy," Garadan quietly spoke, as he flew in loose formation with his second.

"It's not flying over it that's hard, it's doin' it without being bothered by the guards," the feisty female at his side replied. "Even when I had my papers, they still followed me like I was about to drop down and snatch a foal."

Garadan nodded his head to her. "I will take your word for it, Gilda," he said. "I never understood how these ponies think, anyway."

"Neither do I," Gilda muttered under her breath. She then cleared her throat and spoke a bit louder as she pointed with a forepaw. "Looks like that's them down there."

"I would think so," Garadan agreed, having also spotted the strange egg-shaped structure sitting amongst the tall buildings. He immediately adjusted his wings and started to descend, prompting Gilda and the other nearby griffons to follow. They all remained silent as they flew, retaining the typically stoic composure of the griffon race. As they drew lower, though, even Garadan found himself a bit bewildered as the true scope of the war machines the invaders had with them, many of which were gathered in rows outside the building-sized craft that he had been told could move at will. I will believe that when I see it, the older griffon thought, as he and the others spiraled downward. His keen eyes located a patch of ground that was brightly illuminated by electric lights in the growing night, carefully positioned between the massive ship and the war machines. Standing at the edge were six figures, two of which were ponies, and the other four being something Garadan had never seen before. Must be those "humans" the missive spoke of, he reasoned.

As he descended, one of the ponies sprang into the air and flew upwards, revealing itself as a pegasus. Garadan and the others pulled themselves to a hovering stop as the green pony flew up to meet them, instantly wary of any potential tricks.

"Greetings," the flying pony said. "Major Garth O'Connell bids you welcome. I will lead you to the landing to meet him."

Garadan raised an eyebrow at that. So, they either know of griffon customs, or learned of them, he thought, and his opinion of the strangers rose a tick. "Very well, lead us down," he said aloud, and then followed when the green pegasus turned and then headed back down to where she had been standing a few moments prior.

As the new arrivals landed, they took careful, guarded looks around them to gauge the situation. Garadan gave the immediate area a cursory glance himself before he turned his attention to the bipedal figures standing before him. At first glance, part of him felt like dismissing the creatures, so soft and incapable they looked, even when compared to ponykind. Yet as he looked closer and peered into their faces, Garadan saw that they were studying him and the other griffons as thoroughly and with the same practiced eye of a predator looking for soft spots. So, perhaps the rumors are true? Garadan found himself intrigued, and he decided to take the initiative and stepped forward. "I am Garadan, of the Flying Strikes clan. I thank you for your hospitality," he said, and gestured to the pegasus that had flown up to greet them as he spoke the second sentence. The other griffon clan representatives followed suit within moments, and soon they had all offered their traditional greetings.

The scene fell silent after the last griffon spoke, though it was brief as the the creature in the center of the group shifted on his feet and then dropped his arms from where they had been crossed over his chest. "I'm major Garth O'Connell, commanding officer of the Desperadoes Mercenary Group and its first company, and I welcome you personally to this recently liberated city. On my right is captain Gregory Kilroy, my second in command and leader of the second company, and on my left are captain Sara Tanaka, commander of third company, and commander Zachery Carver, the leader of our air wing.

"And with us are two who have seen the light," O'Connell continued, with a wave of his hand towards the two ponies standing off to Kilroy's right. "Trixie and Seabreeze, both of whom are advisors as we extend our rule over this land."

Garadan cast a hard eye over the two ponies and silently questioned what would make any one of the ponies turn on their own kind. He got an immediate and easy answer with Trixie as she puffed herself up a bit: Pride. So easy to use, such a curse on those who value it greatly, Garadan thought, momentarily casting his thoughts to Gilda before considering the green pegasus. This one, though, is mad, he thought, seeing the crooked smile on her face and one of her eyes twitching. Best steer clear of her. He forced his attention back to the human leader and then nodded, his taking the leader earlier having made him the leading delegate by default. "So, we have come as bidden. I take it you will not waste our time?" He asked bluntly.

O'Connell smirked at that, and then nodded. "I most certainly won't," he said, and then waved for the griffons to follow him towards the Red Skye. The gathering slowly fell in behind him, the griffons forming a parallel column to that of the humans and ponies with their primary delegates up front. "In fact, I think you will all appreciate what we offer."

"Oh?" Garadan asked, and then glanced at his equals for a moment to make sure no one else wanted to speak up. "And what exactly do you offer?"

"Change," O'Connell answered as he started leading the groups up the Skye's 'mech embarkation ramp. "I've read some of the texts the ponies" - Garadan noticed a hitch in the man's voice at that word - "have written on your kind. Many of them are quite unkind."

"That's 'cus ponies have feathers for brains," Gilda said from near the middle of the Griffon procession. Garadan cast a warning look back at her, but otherwise refrained from the usual rebuke. Because she's right; they do have feathers for brains, the elder griffon thought.

"Quite right," O'Connell replied to Gilda's statement. "Most of them aren't very bright. Fortunately, there are exceptions," he added, and then gestured towards Trixie and Seabreeze again. "These two being amongst them. The others may even come around in time, though before then someone will have to remove the corrupting influence of their entrenched government first."

Garadan didn't reply to that. Point of fact, he could not, as he and the other griffons reached the main level of the lower 'mech bay and promptly froze in place to take in the varied and remarkable sights. Thy recovered soon enough, however, and then turned to see O'Connell smiling broadly. "And that is where we come in. I know you have had problems with the local royalty before. Well, my unit took one of them out, and the other has been hiding in their capitol ever since."

"Truly?" One of the other griffon delegates asked, sounding surprised. "You killed one of the royal sisters?"

At this, O'Connell's smile faded a bit, and a brief hitch came in his mannerisms. "Mostly," he said, a bit of a growl in his voice. "We fought and beat the white one. Shot her good with a laser." Garth mentioned this last part with a vengeful smirk, though it was brief. "Her servants carried her off before we could finish the job, but even if she isn't dead from being hit by an anti-armor weapon, she's going to be in the hospital for a long, long time to come."

The griffon delegates turned to each other and started to mutter amongst themselves. Garadan refrained from such a display, though even he felt his mind boggling at the concept that Celestia herself had been driven from the battlefield. That eternal pox upon our kind struck down? Even if she is not dead, she is vulnerable. I wonder...

He put such thoughts aside as O'Connell resumed speaking. "So you can see I'm not blowing smoke about our abilities to enact change. However, like all beings, we are not all-powerful; we need to sleep and eat at times, like anyone else. There's only so many of us, and so we need help."

"And so you turn to us," Garadan said, his tone making it a statement. "For what purpose?"

O'Connell smiled his usual, almost insincere smile again. "As I said, there are only so many of us. What we need is numbers, chiefly large numbers of beings willing to work with us to do the things we cannot. A BattleMech – which is what we call our war machines – is immensely powerful and can take land, but they cannot hold it. What we need are individuals on the ground, and in your case, in the air, to watch what we take from the royals, to keep the pony populace in line, and to fight the sorts of fights that a giant metal machine isn't suited for. And from what I've read, you guys are the most vicious, tenacious, and bloody fighters on this world." O'Connell paused at that to nod a salute to the delegates. "Which makes you some of the best allies mechwarriors like us could have."

Silence fell over the two groups for a few moments as the griffons absorbed and considered O'Connell's words. Finally, Garadan spoke up again. "Of course, the question becomes, what do we get out of such an alliance?"

Garth smiled again. "Besides the obvious reward of power second only to us humans, I also promise you living space here in the pony lands, and the ability to settle wherever you want. And of course, we'd restore your hunting rights."

To say the last item got the griffons' attentions would be an understatement, as they turned and locked their gaze onto the human leader almost as one. A few of them stole looks at the two ponies in the other group and found them suddenly uncomfortable, though neither raised a voice in protest. For his part, Garadan flicked his gaze to glance at Gilda out of the corner of his eyes; a look the younger griffon reciprocated instantly. "That is an interesting proposal," Garadan said, turning his attention to O'Connell. "But how would order be maintained? Surely the ponies wouldn't want to be subject of that sort of treatment."

Garth grinned again, and this time it not only seemed sincere, but also frightening. "Oh, governments have gotten away with worse back where we come from," he said, with a feigned nonchalance. "Fortunately, there are quite a few books that detail such things." He didn't mention, of course, that those books were documentaries of past atrocities, as well as a few modern ones. "And what it all boils down to is if you keep the ponies afraid and have enough power to rapidly quash any uprising, then you can keep them in check well enough."

"And ponies certainly are easily scared," Gilda muttered quietly, barely loud enough for Garadan to hear her.

The elder griffon nodded almost absentmindedly, and then focused his gaze on O'Connell again. "I think this shall be an interesting discussion."


Sweet Apple Acres
Ponyville, Equestria
September 19th

Johannes "Hermes" Schneider looked out over the unploughed field he stood in and took in the sights around him. On his left some distance away stood the Heart of Steel, and further beyond that the Apple Family homestead. To his right was a part of the ponies' orchard that seemed to have died off en masse, leaving the area clear of any workers and making the area perfect for what was planned today.

In front of him were the reasons he was outside early this morning, and Schneider coolly cast his gaze along the two ranks of ponies that had been detached from captain Starbuck's command for "familiarity training." Apparently the only ponies from their army who actually have faced O'Connell and his men are the pegasuses, Schneider thought, his education ensuring that he would use the proper English way of referring to the plural noun of a winged pony. Though to be fair, Merry Olde England never did have to solve that problem, did they? The thought amused him briefly as he looked over the fourteen ponies, seven each of the earth and unicorn variety, selected by Starbuck to partake in the training the humans offered.

They were all "Guards"; regulars who made a career out of serving their nation, as opposed to the "Army" which was a temporary inflation of the Equestrian armed forces in times of war. The distinction and what it meant had been explained to Schneider and the other humans the day before when plans for this training and the upcoming actions against the Desperadoes were being made, and for a moment "Hermes" reflected again on what he would have to change from the usual routine. Well, no sense on putting this off any longer, he told himself, and then cleared his throat. "Greetings gentle... ponies," he said, somewhat haltingly as he was still unused to such an odd form of address. "My name is Johannes Schneider. I will be conducting the training today, along with our infantry commander, mister Ivan Rogov." Schneider paused to turn and gesture behind and to his right, where the imposing giant of a man stood next to some metal storage crates that had been brought out for today's work. "I have been told that your commanding officer has picked you because he feels you are his best." Schneider paused again and then glanced to the left now a fair distance away where captain Starbuck and several ponies from the nearby town stood to watch the proceedings. "Hopefully we won't be testing that statement anytime soon," Hermes continued, and returned his attention to the "trainees" in front of him. "But for now I will expect you to pay close attention and give me your best efforts. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir!" The fourteen soldier ponies replied, their voices loud and precise. Their tone was of obedience and precision, yet tinged with enough pride to give a measure of their self-worth.

Schneider nodded appreciatively at that, finding satisfaction that these were indeed professionals. "Good. Now, firstly we are going to introduce you to the kinds of weapons that you will be facing in the fight against the Desperadoes, starting with small arms," Hermes continued, and then turned and gestured to Ivan. The burly man quickly crouched to pick up a particular crate and then carried it forward with ease. He placed it unbidden in the space between Schneider and the trainees, before he stepped back to let Schneider take the forefront again.

"The first thing to know," Johannes spoke, while Ivan was still moving about. "Is that all weapons, regardless of design, exist to deliver energy to a target in sufficient quantity and a quick enough time-frame to disrupt its physical structure." He knelt down after Ivan had stepped back, and then quickly began to work the latches holding the crate closed. "This is true even of weapons like swords, spears, and arrows. Those weapons, however, rely on the user applying physical energy from his or her own muscles, thus limiting its output. Whereas weapons like these," he added, as he removed four pistols and then laid them on the ground briefly while he closed the crate's lid. "All incorporate some form of concentrated and stored energy that is then released in a controlled manner." Schneider placed the pistols on top of the crate at this and then stood to gesture at the four weapons. "I will demonstrate these weapons to you and explain their function so that you will better understand their advantages and disadvantages so that you can adapt to the battlefield you will find yourself in.

"Now, first we need some targets." Schneider paused at this, and then glanced around. "Uh, Ivan, weren't you supposed to have those set up already?" He asked the larger man in a slightly lower voice.

"Ivan get Pinkie Pie to help," the giant replied with a satisfied grin. "She make targets."

Schneider frowned at the taller man, and then started to look around. "Well, where is sh-" he began, only to cut himself off as he suddenly saw the aforementioned pink pony standing right behind him. "Ah!" He yelped out in shock.

"Hiya mister Hermes!" Pinkie said, grinning widely, as was her idiom. "I brought those dummies like Ivan wanted though I don't know why you'd call them dummies since they don't breathe so they can't really talk and how can you know if they're dumb or not if you can't talk to them or is that the point that they can't talk so they're not very smart?"

Schneider blinked at her words, feeling dumbfounded that Pinkie had sneaked up on him. And carrying two large target dummies, as well? He asked himself, as he gawked at the two man-sized, burlap sacks with crude red and white targets painted on them that sat on the pink pony's back. "Oh, okay," he said, his voice half bewildered. "Well then, would you please go set them up for us?" He asked, hoping to use the time it would take her to regain his composure.

"Sure!" Pinkie replied, her smile widening just a bit. "Where do you want them?"

"Oh," Schneider said, and then twisted his upper body to point towards the leafless trees, his gaze following the point of his hand. "Just over... there..." Johannes blinked hard as he saw the two targets already set up, propped up by wooden stakes in front of one of the dead-looking trees. He froze like that for only a second before he whipped his body back around to see Pinkie Pie standing where he'd seen her a moment before, now sans dummies. "H- how?" Hermes asked, his voice breaking a bit. "How the Hell did you do that?"

"Do what?" Pinkie asked, her cheerful smile still in place. "Oh, you mean put the dummies up? I just went over there and did it. Easy peasy one two threesy, as Dashie likes to say."

Johannes Schneider considered himself a sane and rational man who was open-minded to new ideas. He'd even started accepting that "magic" was a force here. Yet at the moment, he felt like what order was left in the universe was slowly ebbing away.

A large, meaty hand was laid gently on his shoulder then, and Schneider turned his head to see Ivan looking at him with a sympathetic expression on his face. "Ivan think you need moment or two," the taller man said. "Go stand with watching ponies, while Ivan moves to next demonstration. We come back to your part, da?"

Johannes just nodded at that, as he found himself too dumbfounded to speak. Instead he just turned and started to walk towards the small crowd of ponies in the distance. Though he did make sure to step widely around a still-grinning Pinkie Pie, at whom he shot confused glances now and then.

"Now," Ivan said, speaking loud enough to be heard as he turned to face the guards ponies still waiting for their training. Most of them looked almost as bad as Schneider had, though one earth pony looked almost bored. "One moment," Ivan said, and then turned and went back to the stack of crates. He opened up one and pulled something large out from inside before he turned and then walked back. Carefully, he set his burden down on top of the crate, over the pistols Schneider had pulled out, and then cleared his throat.

"Ivan is heavy weapons specialist," Ivan said, and then patted the object he'd just retrieved. "And this, is Sasha. She is Bearhunter super-heavy autocannon for infantry, weighs forty kilograms, and fires custom-made two-hundred bit cartridges at ten-thousand rounds per minute," he explained, having already converted the cost of the ammunition to Equestrian currency to make his point, though he exaggerated the costs somewhat. "It costs four hundred thousand bits to fire this weapon for twelve seconds."

He paused to let that information sink in. The guards ponies across from him all took on looks of surprise and even a mild bit of horror at the sheer cost of the weapon. Before any of them could say anything in reply, though, Ivan picked up a pair of orange ear protectors from his belt and then placed them where they were designed to go. "You may want to cover your ears," Ivan shouted towards the guards ponies, and then glanced back at Pinkie Pie. His mind made no special note to see that she had somehow produced a pair of her own orange protectors, which already sat over her ears. Instead he turned to his autocannon, lifted it up, and then turned to face the targets Pinkie had set up. Ivan double-checked the ammo feed to make sure the short belt for the demonstration was loaded, and then hefted the bulky weapon up until he could properly set it against his body to absorb the recoil.

        * * * *

Twilight Sparkle watched Schneider approach where she, captain Starbuck, and several townsponies stood. The flabbergasted look on his face had faded a bit, but he was still in a state and Twilight found herself smiling sadly in sympathy for him. "Don't worry," the unicorn said, as the human drew near. "Pinkie does that to everyone here," she added, feeling some pride at remembering to use the more inclusive pronoun.

"How does she do it, though?" Schneider asked, relief showing on his face and in his voice as confirmation that he wasn't crazy helped ease his mind. "Is it that magic of yours?"

"Uh, not really," Twilight said, and then blushed and looked down. "Actually, I tried to find out what it was once. I ended up even more frustrated than you," she added, and then looked up, her visage still sympathetic, if also showing some embarrassment. "That's how I know what you're going through right now."

"Pinkie has also been the subject of a guards bulletin," Starbuck interjected. "Telling us not to bother trying to incarcerate her if she finds her way onto the castle grounds. Firstly because she is an element of harmony, of course," Starbuck added, with a nod to Twilight. "But also because we were told it would be wasted effort. Something about impossible contortion, I believe."

Schneider gave the two ponies a look of disbelief, and then shook his head. "I'm going to go insane here, aren't I?" He asked, rhetorically.

"If you live in Ponyville, at least," Twilight muttered, hoping to keep any of the nearby townsponies from hearing her.

Fortunately, that seemed the case, as the other ponies were more interested in something going on back at the demonstration. Even Schneider noticed this, and he glanced back briefly to make sure Ivan was still working at it. Then he did a double-take as he recognized "Sasha" and saw Ivan aiming it, and then let out a small noise of surprise. "Everyone, cover your ears!" He shouted before he followed his own advice and clapped his hands to the side of his head.

Although surprised at the sudden outburst, the various ponies were already alert from Pinkie's antics, and so they quickly obeyed Schneider's command. Almost as one the group dropped to their haunches so they could bring up forelegs to plant hooves over their ears, even as Schneider did the same with his hands.

It proved a prudent measure as Ivan fired the autocannon at the targets Pinkie had set up. A meter-long gout of flame erupted from the multi-barrel weapon as it spat out a brief but terrible stream of shells that tore into, apart, and through the two burlap sacks before the shrapnel and unexploded rounds went on to rip apart the dead-looking tree behind them. The thunderous noise from the cannon was nearly painful, even at the distance Schneider and the ponies stood at and despite the hands and hooves covering their ears.

Fortunately it was only a brief, one-second burst – that cost us several hundred C-bills, Schneider mentally grumbled – and so the group returned to their normal stances almost immediately.

"That was impressive," Starbuck offered. "Is that a typical weapon?"

"Not by a long shot," Schneider replied. "That's a Bearhunter autocannon; only the Clans make them. We were lucky and got it with the salvage from our last raid on the Ghost Bears."

Starbuck gave the human a tired look at that. Schneider suddenly remembered who he was talking to and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I keep forgetting. That stuff is common knowledge back home."

"Sort of how Pinkie Pie's antics are here?" Starbuck countered, a smug grin spreading on his face.

"Is that what they're calling them now?" A familiar voice suddenly spoke up, once again from right behind Schneider. Once again, he was startled and spun around, though this time he was joined in surprise by Twilight and Starbuck. Their eyes alighted upon the familiar visage of Pinkie Pie, who stood there with her orange ear protectors clamped onto her neck, smiling as usual. "Did I scare you guys again?" She asked, the smile drooping slightly.

"Just a bit, Pinkie," Twilight replied, even as she tried to catch her breath. "You really should learn to stop sneaking up on people."

"Aww, but it's so much fun!" Pinkie replied, her smile back to its normal dimensions. "Plus Hermes needs to loosen up a bit and relax because he's not enjoying himself here since we're all magical and he has a hard time wrapping his head around all of it isn't that right Hermes?" The pink pony spouted this off quickly, and then looked to the human for her answer.

Schneider blinked at the question, and then blushed a bit. "Look, I don't know if the commander put you up to this or not, but I'm fine," he said, sounding insistent.

"Oh mister McKenna didn't put me up to this: I did!" Pinkie Pie replied, bouncing up as she referred to herself. "You just seem so grumpy I want to make you smile so you don't feel like you're going insane like you just said to Twilight a few moments ago."

Johannes could only stare in silence for a moment as his mind grappled with the pink pony's speech. "How could you hear that when you were still over there?" He asked, while he pointed towards where Ivan was even now lecturing the guardsponies in his broken accent.

"That's a good question," Pinkie Pie admitted, and then looked perplexed as she raised a forehoof up to rub her chin in contemplation. "I'm not sure if I could answer it without being slapped by a fish."

A moment of silence met that statement. "Pinkie," Twilight finally said. "What do you mean, slapped by a fish?"

"If I explained that then I'd definitely get slapped by one!" Pinkie Pie replied, her tone a mix of exasperation and giddy amusement. "Besides, shouldn't Hermes be working with the guardsponies?"

Schneider gave the pink pony a hard look, despite the fact that he felt the tug of duty at her words. After a moment, he shook his head and sighed. "Yeah, I guess I should get back," he admitted, and then started to walk back towards the demonstration area. As he passed by Pinkie Pie, though, he paused and then turned to give her a steady look. "But I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"Okey dokey Loki!" Pinkie Pie replied, with a wide smile on her muzzle. Her unerring cheerfulness and oddly penetrating gaze disturbed the human slightly, and he turned to resume his walk back towards familiarity.

For her part, Twilight Sparkle gave a sympathetic shake of her head as she watched Schneider move off. "Pinkie, you really need to tone it down a bit," she offered. "Some of these humans are concerned enough about regular magic without your, er, special abilities to confound them."

Pinkie Pie shrugged at that as she turned to her purple friend. "Oh, I know. But the plot really needs to get moving before the author starts tearing his hair out."

Both Twilight and Starbuck, who had been watching quietly, gave the pink pony stupefied looks at that. "Who?" The former asked.

"What?" The guardspony added.

Before Pinkie could answer, an object fell from the sky and landed in the dirt betwixt the three ponies. All of them looked down to see a small trout, lying intact and still twitching, glistening in the morning sun.

"Oh. I'd better go help Ivan and Hermes some more," Pinkie said, her tone as cheerful as ever, while Twilight and Starbuck looked up at her, completely flabbergasted. "See you two later!" The party pony added, and then turned and hopped off in her usual manner towards where Hermes had even now rejoined Ivan.

Still in shock, Twilight and Starbuck both looked up. The unicorn breathed in a sigh of relief right away, as she recognized the familiar vanilla and pink coloration of a particular friend flying to the east. "Oh, Fluttershy must have dropped it," Twilight said, and then looked to the pegasus guard on her right with a sheepish grin. "She's been working overtime to feed her animal friends since Ivan helped her come out of her shock, and she has a couple of ferrets who love fish."

"Ah," Starbuck said, his face showing some relief as well. Still, a moment of silence passed between him and Twilight before the steel blue pegasus cast a brief glance off to where Pinkie was standing near Ivan, and then looked down at the fish again. "I think... I'm going to see how they're doing in the ship," he said, and then turned and trotted off.

"I'll join you," Twilight said, her tone uneasy and hurried as she sprinted briefly to catch up.

        * * * *

Deep within the upper 'Mech Bay of the Heart of Steel, two rose-colored eyes slowly peeked above the edge of a crate and then narrowed as their owner spotted her target. A tongue slipped out the side of her cyan muzzle and was firmly lodged between her teeth and lips as she slowly brought up a foreleg and reached out for her prize.

A flash of silver in the corner of her vision told that she'd been spotted, and she flinched backwards as the pointed device jabbed downwards. The aim was true, and metal speared through soft, fluffy material and drew forth the dark fluid that lay within.

"Don't ye touch me pancakes, lassie," Andrew McCoy grated out in his usual, harsh tone, as he turned his full attention from the tech manual he was reading to the breakfast plate sitting on a spare ammo crate. "I dunna care if ya helpin' me or not, but God help if ya try tae take me breakfast."

Rainbow Dash razzed the old human at that, as she stood up from the crouch she had used to sneak up on the master tech. "You don't scare me," she said, defiantly.

McCoy chuckled darkly at that as he shifted the fork with his left hand and used it to cut a chunk off one of the pancakes on his plate. "That's only 'cuz ya dunna know me verra well," he said, and then brought up the piece of pan-cooked goodness to his mouth.

"I know you're a cranky old coot," Dash impertinently replied. "Also you're too slow to catch me, so I could take your food and be gone while you're still chewing."

"Really, now?" McCoy asked, after he swallowed his bite, his tone nonchalant. "And ye think that's all ye need, eh?" He asked, as he took another bite.

"Of course it is," Dash replied, indignant, and then tossed her head to the side in a smooth movement, which sent her mane flying for a moment. "I could swoop down and snatch the plate out from under you if I wanted to and you couldn't do a thing about it."

"So why dinn' ya?" McCoy asked, between bites.

Dash shrugged at that. "I wanted to be sporting, yanno? Give you a fair chance," she explained, and then smirked. "And even though it didn't work, I can always snatch the plate and get out of the ship before you could even stand up."

"So why don't ya?" The elder human asked, before taking another bite.

"Maybe I will," Dash countered, in a confrontational tone as she turned her head back to look up at the human, who was still a bit taller than her even while sitting down. "Maybe I'll just snatch it right now."

"Be my guest," McCoy added, and then rather heavily set his fork down on the plate.

Dash had her gaze drawn to the noise the flatware made, and she blinked when she saw a dish now bereft of the pancakes she had coveted. "Oh..." She said, dejected.

McCoy chuckled at that, and then stood from the stool he'd taken a rest on. "That'll teach ya a lesson, lassie," he said, even as he paused to stretch and pop portions of his body. "Old age and treachery will win against youth an' inexperience any ol' day. Also, donna spend yer time talkin' 'bout doin' something, just do it.

"Speakin' o' which, time tae get back tae work," the human added, and then waved the pony forward as he went to a temporary workbench only a couple of meters away. "C'mon, I know th' squids fed ye a whole stack o' pancakes earlier. Frankly I dunna know where ye put away all them calories," McCoy said, glancing over his shoulder.

"It takes a lot of energy to fly," Rainbow Dash protested, and then once again razzed the master tech. As she did, though, something caught her eye, and she looked down to see that McCoy's plate wasn't quite so empty. "Hey, ya left something," she called to the human.

"Eh?" McCoy muttered from where he had begun to tinker at his current project. "Ach, jus' some bacon. Ye can have if ye want, th' doc said I ought tae cut back anyway," he said, and then turned back to his work.

"Bacon?" Rainbow Dash asked, more to herself than of the human. When McCoy didn't reply, she turned her head down and then took a step forward to sniff at the single strip of red. Hmm, what is it? She wondered to herself. She hadn't been to any of the meetings between McKenna and the pony leadership, and so had no idea what this curious food item was. Smells weird, I wonder if it tastes weird? Dash pondered that for a moment, and then shrugged her wings. Well, only one way to find out.

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