ASS EFFECT - Systems Alliance Lieutenant Anon in Equestria

THE TIME: Three weeks after Saren Arterius was unmasked as a traitor in league with the Geth.

THE PLACE: A battle between Alliance forces and rogue Batarians at the Perseus Veil relay

YOU ARE: Lieutenant Anonymous, an N6-class Vanguard in the Alliance Navy who is assigned to anti-pirate duty.

THIS STORY IS: written by me, and therefore completely ridiculous.

 

1.

>The pirate fighter banks a hard right and spirals out of range of your guns.

>It's the fourth time he's juked you, each time pulling you farther from the main battle and closer to the relay's field generation rings.

>You grit your teeth and spit out a curse.  How is some random idiot outflying you?

"It's just a training exercise.  I can do this."

>Sure, but training exercises at the N6 level involve live fire with actual enemies and this Batarian is goddamned amazing.

>"Lieutenant Anonymous, this is beta squadron.  Do you copy?"

"I copy."

>"Be advised that your bogey is the ringleader. He's ex-military and an excellent pilot."

"I've noticed."

>The rear of the fleeing ship is almost back within your sites, but this time its course is strangely stable.

>"Warning: do not sit directly behind his vessel.  It has a rear-mounted--"

>**KRANNGG**

>...Gun, apparently.  That's a pretty great idea.  Why don't our fighters have that?

>Your annoyed reverie is interrupted by a sharp squawk as the radio cuts out.  

>Sparks and plumes of smoke are coming from everywhere and the calm voice of your ship's VI isn't doing much to improve your mood.

>"Navigation systems offline.  Life support systems offline.  Targeting systems offline.  Solid Waste reclamation system at 30%."

>The pirate is right on your six but pulls away instead of finishing you.  What the hell?

>Oh.  Yeah, that makes perfect sense.  Why waste the ammo when you're already sailing right toward the relay's field core?

"Jesus...."

 

2.

>That showboating four-eyed bastard meant to do this from the start.

>He straight up punked you like a bitch.

>You mash the ejection button while imagining cartoonishly violent retribution, and nothing happens.

>You try to check status but the VI has completely lost it.

>"System aeiou. aeiou. Status nine, nine, nine. Error in quadrant UUUUUUUUUUUUUUU."

>The field core now fills your windshield and the entire craft has begun to vibrate.

>You instinctively throw your arms in front of you as the cockpit flashes blindingly bright, but instead of being torn to shreds you only experience a brief sensation of overpressure.

>When the spots clear, the white light has been replaced with ...more white.

>There's also some gray and the occasional patch of green.  

>Oh shit, that's a mountain.

>How is this possible?

>What in God's name is going on?

>More important than those questions is the fact that you are 5 seconds from becoming Vanguard Paste and are beating the ejection button like a bongo.

>A half step before impact you blow the cockpit open with a biotic push and hammer the button again.

>**CHOOM**

>Your seat blasts clear moments before your vehicle slams into the rock, its secondary propulsion charge launching you outward and away from the explosion.

>Hooray, you made it!

>Except the fighter is designed for space combat; the ejection seat's only function is to throw you far from an exploding ship.  

>In other words, there is no parachute and you are now 500 feet in the air above the orange sphere of flame that used to be your fighter.

"Well, fuck."

 

3.

>You are going to kiss Sheylna right on her glorious blue ass.

>First you'll have to hop a shuttle from wherever this is and get back to your post.

>You'll probably also have to apologize about when she caught you with the Elcor.

>What was her problem with that anyway?  She was the one who told you to 'embrace new experiences.'

>Li'l Anon gives half a twitch at the thought of how hard five-gee pelvic muscles could squeeze.

>Crushed so good.

>350 feet and dropping

>This is not the time to reminisce about sweet elephantine lovin'.

>It is time to save your life with what Sheylna taught you.  

>You extend your arms slightly and smirk as a rippling biotic field slows your descent to a gentle glide.

>A little forward pressure steers you clear of the burning wreckage and you land with aplomb.

>If your instructors at Grissom were here they'd drop their jaws; personal levitation techniques are virtually unknown among humans.  

>Having an Asari Huntress for a girlfriend has its advantages.

>OK, ex-girlfriend.  Stupid sexy Elcors.

>You look around and take stock.  The ship is a total loss but you expected that.  What you didn't expect is what you see glinting up at you when you peer down into the impact crater.

"Whoah."

>The smoking pit is filled with enormous faceted gems of every color.

 

4.

>You jump into the crater, grab an exceptionally large square-cut sapphire and give it a yank.  Your synth-and-suit-augmented strength breaks it free in one piece and you drag a corner across an armor plate.

>Yep, scratched it easily.  It's the size of a casaba melon and perfectly flawless.  You could buy a god damned office building on Thessia with this thing and there are _dozens_ strewn about.

>Then you remember that gemstones don't grow like this.  They had to have been planted here.  If you were still in the Terminus it could be a pirate stash, which means per regulations you have to report it.

>You decide that regulations can go squat on a pineapple.

>After a giddy squeal and a few dance steps you sit down on what used to be a bulkhead and float the gem biotically.

>You're going to be filthy, stinking rich and you owe it all to Sheylna.  If she hadn't taught you how to breakfall you'd be a red smear right now.

>You gaze dreamily at the spinning sapphire and picture all the elite swag you're going to buy.

>Then your head is invaded by an idea.

>You jerk upright and your pupils contract to points.

"No way."

>No. Freaking. Way.

>Could it be so simple?

>WHY HAS NO ONE THOUGHT OF THIS BEFORE?

>You jump off the bulkhead and grab a loose length of frame tubing.

 

5.

>Biotics can't fly.  Everyone knows that.

>The reason that biotics can't fly is the fact that it's very easy for point-forces to rise from body lifting to body crushing if a person moves wrongly while suspended.  

>The Asari breakfall uses rapidly pulsed fields that are much easier to control.

>You look at the tubing with a giddy expression.  It's so amazingly simple.

>Instead of lifting yourself, why not lift something else and hold onto it?

>You raise the tube over your head and concentrate.

>Oh yeah, you can't move your arms.  Fine, leg motion it is.

>You do a quarter split and rocket the pipe 15 feet in the air, you along with it.

>Holding position is harder than you expected.  After several seconds of riverdancing you careen to the left and crash into a rock wall.

>Idea: solid.  Execution: needs work.

>Any biotic technique is like that though - clumsy at first then eventually second nature.  

>You stare at the pipe in your hands and break into a huge grin behind your faceplate.  You're not just going to be rich; you're going to be famous.

>The galaxy's first flying biotic.

>Hell under Volus law you can patent ideas.  You could market the Flite Stikk® and demand royalties from anyone who sold something similar.

>All you have to do is keep this quiet until you hit Volus space and you'll end up a freaking magnate.

>Surely Sheylna would overlook the Elcor thing then....

 

6.

>You're so entranced by your visions of greatness that you fail to hear the approach of wing beats coming up behind you.

>"Ahem."

>You spin around, dropping the pipe and drawing your shotgun in a single motion that ends with you shielded and battle-ready in under a second.

>You are an elite commando after all.

>You remember how the Batarian punked you and you wince internally.

>OK, a semi-elite commando.

>"Metal one, are you responsible for this destruction?

>Horses.

>You're pointing your shotgun at a pair of horses, one of whom just spoke to you in perfect North-American English.

>James, party of two, rustling section.

 

7.

>Talking winged horses in golden armor are hovering in front of your shotgun's muzzle with frowns on their strangely humanoid faces.

>"Metal one, I asked you a question.  Are you the cause of this destruction?"

>They are completely not giving a damn about your shotgun.  You decide to let your mouth deal with their questions while your brain tries to process the situation.

"No.  I mean yes.  Not directly but sort of.  I crashed my ship.  Actually a Batarian crashed my ship."

>Their expressions are fading from angry to confused.  Good, that'll buy you time to think.

>You're fairly sure that you aren't hallucinating or dreaming, so this is probably really happening.

>An undiscovered species that looks exactly like a winged horse and talks like it grew up in Nebraska is also extremely unlikely.

>You decide to shelve the problem for now and find out where you are instead.

"So yeah, I crashed my ship and this is the wreckage.  Sorry for the disturbance.  What system is this?"

>They stare blankly.

>"System?"

"Star system.  What's the name of the relay here?"

>They still look perplexed.

>You sigh and call up your omni-tool's planetary database.

"Fine, what's the planet's name?"

>The horses' eyes go wide and they fly ten feet back and upward.

>"It knows magic!"

>This is getting annoying.

"It's my omni-tool.  What is your problem?"

>They're still staring at your arm like it's going to bite them.

"It's harmless, I swear.  It just gives me information."

>They drift warily closer but don't take their eyes from the tool.

"Now, what planet is this?"

>No reply.

"Fine, let's try this."

>You turn off your tool and gesture expansively.

"What is this place?  Where exactly am I?"

 

8.

>Freed of the menace of the Demon Arm and finally presented with a sensible question, the horse who has been silent until now speaks up.

>"This is the kingdom of Equestria, ruled by their majesties the princesses Celestia and Luna.  In their names we demand that you accompany us to the royal palace."

>Winged horses?  Magic?  Kingdoms, princesses and palaces?  ...Admiral's balls, you've just figured out what's going on here.

>The horses are altered humans.  Genesplicing to alter phenotype is restricted to espionage agents in Council space, but you've read Extranet rumors about secret resorts where the ultra-rich can pretend to be on Mount Olympus or wherever surrounded by recreated creatures of legend.

>And not only are the resorts real, the relay dropped you right on top of one.  That is pretty damned cool.

>They probably think that you're a client and are staying in character, hence the "oh no, magic" nonsense.

>That would also explain why they don't care about your weapon; management wouldn't give live ammo to some CEO playing Alliance Marine in Gumdrop Land.

>You decide to play along until you find someone with the authority to call a shuttle.

"I submit myself to your custody."

>They both nod.

>"Remain here.  We will summon you a chariot."

>A flying chariot.  Cute.

"No need, I've got it covered."

>You grasp Flite Stikk® and float upward.

"Though I'll need a few minutes to practice."

 

9.

>The genespliced horses stare open-mouthed as you flip and fling about in the air, on three occasions slamming face first into the rock at full speed.  If you weren't wearing your armor you'd be hamburger.  As it is you're starting to get a little sore.

>You're also getting the hang of it.

>You finally manage a wobbly hover and begin trying to fly forward and back.

>The horses continue to track you like dogs watching a tennis match.

>Wait. The horses.  They saw everything.

>You swoop down in front of them and shake Flite Stikk® menacingly.

"This is my idea.  Mine!  I swear to God if either of you try to claim a patent before I do I'll see you in Council court faster than you can say 'hello Wilbur.'

>They look at each other, then back to you.

>"Uh, ok?"

"Fine, just so we're clear."

>"So you're ready to see the princesses now?"

"Ready when you are."

>They take off into the air.  You raise Flite Stikk® and trail along unsteadily behind them.

>When you attain a little altitude you gape in wonder.  Far below you an entire city built around a truly gigantic palace is perched on the side of the mountain.

>How the hell did you miss this during your initial descent?

>It's not until you get a little closer, however, that what you see truly blows your mind.

>There aren't just a few genespliced employees flitting around Council race clients.  The city is packed, and every inhabitant is some kind of horse.

>You are absolutely stunned to the point that you almost lose your grip.

>People don't come here to interact with magical fairy tale horses.  They come here looking to *be* magical fairy tale horses.

 

10.

>Even the wildest Extranet rumors never hinted at anything like this.

>Genesplicing - especially this extensive - is far from cheap.  You are looking at tens of billions of credits on the hoof.

>You land on the palace grounds, drawing stares from the locals.  That's OK, you're staring right back.  You can't believe this place exists.  

>The guards lead you inside and through winding hallways until you reach an enormous pair of elaborately inlaid wooden doors.

>Two dark-pelted horses with horns push the doors open biotically and motion you inside.

>You briefly wonder how they get just their horns to glow instead of everywhere, then catch your breath.

>Holy drive cores, this is SWANK.

>You've stepped into a gargantuan throne room.   Its curved walls are ringed with gilded columns and decorated with dozens of tapestries and pieces of art.  

>The ceiling is at least 40 feet high and is 90% glass and gilded metal filigree.  

>A stepped dais covered with satin pillows fills the far end and reclining on them are a pair of feminine horses with wings and horns.

>You whistle through your teeth. These gals went absolutely all out with the gene mods.  

>Not only are they taller than the others, their forms are slightly iridescent and their hair shifts constantly in what has to be a self-generated low-level biotic field.

>The larger horse is white with a pastel mane and tail that look incredibly soft.  Is that even really hair?

>The smaller one is dark blue and her mane/tail combo is more exotic yet; it appears to be full of stars, which drives your helmet's optic VI nuts as it tries to resolve depth of field whenever you look at her.

>If these aren't the princesses you'll eat your waste reclamation port.

>They are both staring at you and the white one's expression is not benign.

 

11.

>She stands up and steps gracefully off of the dais.

>"You are the being who caused boulders to rain down on my subjects?"

>It was more an accusation than a question.

>It was also going to make asking for a free shuttle a little awkward.

>You retract your faceplate and she startles, taking a step back.

"Yes, but not on purpose.  I'm not a client, err, 'subject.'  I'm an actual Alliance marine who was blown here when a Batarian pirate threw me through a relay's field core. How that works I have no idea.  My ship was disabled and crashed into the mountain, thus boulders.  The sooner I can get a shuttle out of here the sooner I'll be out of your hair, or whatever else that drifting stuff is."

>"If you think that confusing me is going to get you off the hook for almost killing several of my little ponies, you are quite mistaken."

>Oh God, she's not breaking character.

>You hold your hands up in exasperation.

"Look, if you'll cut the 'princess' crap for a minute I can explain everything."

>Now she's really pissed.  You could swear there's actual steam coming from her ears.  What a weird thing to bio-mod.

>She aims the tip of her horn at you and scowls.

>"That won't be necessary."

 

12.

>The horn begins to glow and you feel a familiar sensation in your head.

>So, she was originally Asari.  She must be a matriarch if she can project at this distance.

>Also, it seems she's forgotten her manners.  

>You conjure up a graphic memory of rimming the Elcor Actress' most pungent hind cloaca and ram it into her mind, complete with smell-o-vision.

>The 'princess' jerks back and collapses on her haunches while violently retching, her face screwed into an expression of abject horror.

"That's what you get for barging in."

>Yet another thing Sheylna taught you: not everyone can make a mind link, but once it's there everyone can use it.  God you love that blueberry babe.

>The dark horse gasps and leaps to her feet.  Hooves.  Whatever.

>"What hast thou done to our sister!?"

"She wanted to see my memories, so I gave her one."

>Darkie stamps a hoof and glares.

>"If thou hast hurt her we shall send thee to the Moon."

>FIRST GOOD NEWS ALL DAY

"Awesome! How soon can I leave?"

>Her expression abruptly shifts from wrath to bewilderment.

>"...Thou *desireth* to be sent to the Moon?"

"At this point I'd take anything off-world.  The Moon sounds great."

>There has to be at least a com buoy there.  If you can call up a shuttle to whatever the local relay is you'll be back with your squad by tomorrow.  Then next shore leave you can rent a shuttle of your own and sneak back to get those gems.

 

13.

>Thoughts of all the credits you'll have and how they'll serve as the seed of your Flite Stikk® empire have you mentally grinning and wringing your hands with glee.

>Then you notice that you're also doing it in reality.  

>You hastily drop your arms and adopt a more normal expression.

"Ah, heh.  So - Moon please."

>The white one's forcible reunion with her lunch has slowed down to occasional heaving.  She finally opens her eyes and stares daggers at you.

>"The Moon? -hurk- I should send you to Tartarus for... for -blueagh- what you did."

>Did she say Arcturus?

"Forget the Moon - that's even better.  If you can get me straight there I'd be grateful."

>Now they're both looking at you like you're insane.  What is wrong with these people?

>White horse aims her horn at you and grimly smiles.

>"I've had to send many creatures there over the centuries.  This is the first time I think I might enjoy it."

>Figures she'd add the 'centuries' bit.  Asari can't resist rubbing in their amazing lifespans.

>It didn't even make sense; Arcturus station was only built 30 years ago.

>Hey, her horn's glowing again....

>**ZZZAPP**

>The world turns plaid, then inside out.  When reality stops acting like Play-Do you find yourself on your hands and knees staring at gray dirt.

>You stand and take a breath, then promptly gag as the worst air you've encountered outside the lower decks of Omega fills your lungs.

>You snap your helmet closed and look around at the empty landscape surrounding you.

"This is not Arcturus station."

 

14.

>"What's an Arcturus station?"

>For the second time today you spin and land with your shotgun pointed at something impossible.  At least this time you know the score.

>A genespliced dog-thing is standing with its paws in the air, eyes fixed on your weapon's muzzle.

>Nice, finally something that acts like it respects a shotgun.

>"I ain't lookin' for trouble!  You just appeared there and I thought you was talkin' to me."

>You put away the gun.

"I'm here due to a minor miscommunication.  Which way is the exit?"

>Unexpectedly the dog begins to laugh.

>"Ain't no one gets out of here, bub."

"There's no exit whatsoever?"

>"Oh there's a gate, but no one gets out through it, at least not for long."

"There's a first time for everything.  Which way is it?"

>The dog points off to your left.

>"Thataway, but yer nuts to go there."

"Thanks for the tip."

>You raise Flite Stikk® and float away, leaving the dog shaking its head behind you.

>"It's your funeral, pal."

>After a few minutes you land again. This trip might take a while and even your augmented grip will eventually get tired.  

>You fish a length of repair webbing out of a pouch and loop it through a parachute hardpoint behind your shoulders, then through the center of Flite Stikk®.

>Tentatively you let go and lift it.  Yep, works perfectly, also you can now use arm movement as well as your legs to maneuver.  Flite Stikk® 2.0!

>You fly in the direction the dog pointed for half an hour, trying to spot anything resembling a gate.

 

15.

[[[BRIEF EXPLANATORY INTERRUPTION: The story told in this pastebin originated in the 'Anon in Equestria' threads on 4chan's /mlp/ board.  The characters introduced in the next section belong to other AiE writers. I intended both encounters to be cameos but imagining the interaction between a smartass dipstick and someone as unbendingly self-serious as a Grey Knight was so much fun that it stretched into multiple posts.

 

Trenchcoat guy belongs to Shermanator, the writer whose posts inspired me to start writing in the first place.  His Anon's adventures can be found here: pastebin.com/u/The_Shermanator.  

 

The soldier arrives courtesy of Sorcerer Anon (pastebin.com/u/Sorcanon).  His story is a crossover between MLP and Warhammer 40K and is entertaining even if you know nothing about WH40K.  I certainly didn't when I started reading it and now, well, pic related: http://i.imgur.com/SufsZ.png

END INTERRUPTION]]]

 

16.

>The terrain varies in every way except not being depressing.  Desert, jungle, forest, plains, all look like mother nature is in the throes of late-stage cancer.

"This place is worse than Jersey."

>You stop trying to interact with the genespliced locals after the first few either ignore you or greet you with thrown rocks and crossbow bolts.

>Fine, be that way.  

>As you float through an area made of weird black stone you see a man in a trench coat angrily kicking a screaming fruit tree into a river of snot.

>What the fuck?

>You decide that you don't want to know.

>Around 10 minutes later you spot something truly interesting; a gigantic soldier in the most remarkable suit of powered armor you have ever seen is sitting on a stump, apparently in contemplation.

>You drop down a ways to one side of him to get a closer look.  Holy fucking armor.  You blew your re-up bonus on Colossus gear and you still feel under-dressed next to him.

"Awesome armor, man!"

>The soldier pulls a You, spinning in place and aiming the enormous gun mounted on his forearm. Unlike you, he actually opens fire.

>You already have your weapon out and are on the move by the time his arm swings toward you.  Regardless, his first blast rips through your shield an inch to the left of your head.

>This guy is good.  You barely get a barrier up before his second shot arrives.  It strikes you center of mass and takes the barrier down under half strength.

>Shot three slams into the hillock you've rolled behind and actually shakes it.

>Jesus Christ. This must be one of those 'realistic experience of danger' places.  No wonder they set up shop in the Terminus.

 

17.

"Hold fire!  Hold fire!"

>Thankfully he does.

>Irate basso profundo booms out of his helmet.

>"Identify yourself immediately."

>Your shield is back to 100%.  You bolster it with the strongest barrier you can muster and peek over the hillock.

"Lieutenant Anonymous with the Alliance 4th fleet anti-pirate battalion."

>"With whom are you allied?"

"Other humans."

>"You speak of the Imperium of Man?"

"Sure, why not."

>"Then stand in peace."

>You get up and dust off your shoulder plates.  The giant soldier approaches and looms over you.

>"What brings you to this place?"

"A horse misheard my request I think."

>"Celestia!"

>You mag-holster your shotgun and purse your lips.  That name sounds familiar.

"Freaky pastel mane, wings and horn, not a fan of Elcor vajay?"

>He nods.

>"The xenos witch. If she still lives I will rend her for what she has done."

"That bad a boss, huh?"

>The soldier somehow manages to glare through an opaque helmet and starts to bellow.

>"NONE RULE ME SAVE THE HOLY EMPEROR, LEAST OF ALL THAT XENOS BEAST BITCH"

>You take a step back and make a placating gesture.

"Relax - I meant boss of the zebus."

>"Xenos."

"Yeah, them.  She's kind of pissed at me too for dropping boulders on her."

>His mood instantly brightens.

 

18.

>"It's good to meet a servant of the Emperor in this unclean place."

>He pauses and gazes down at you in silence as if pondering.

>"But your equipment is unfamiliar and you speak of alliance.  Does your world believe itself to be outside the Imperium?"

>You're getting the picture that this guy's a jock and the Emporium or whatever is the home team.  

>You decide that a little school spirit might be good for your health.

"Not at all. We lost track of the rest of humanity, but boy are we glad to have been found."

>"For how long were you adrift without the Emperor's light?"

"Too long!"

>Humungo draws a gigantic black-bladed sword and strikes the corniest dramatic pose possible.

>"FOR THE EMPEROR!!!"

>What a fruit loop.

>You're very glad he can't see your face with your helmet closed.

>You exaggeratedly copy his pose and extend your omni-tool's plasma blade.

"Forrr thaaa Emperrrorrr!"

>Suddenly you're a foot off the ground.

>A grey fist has encircled your right forearm and is holding your blade slightly above the giant's 9-foot eye level.

>"What manner of weapon is this?"

"It's my omni tool's plasma blade."

>His grip perceptibly tightens.

>"Plasma is a tool of the Tau xenos...."

>WARNING WARNING WARNING

"NO! Nononono, just good old fashioned human ingenuity."

>"Old."

>The soldier extends his arm and drags the tip of your blade across it, grunting in surprise as it cuts into the ceramite with little pressure.

>"Your people have this schematic?"

"We make them, yes.  Can I have my arm back please?"

 

19.

>He releases you and you drop to your feet with what you tell yourself is catlike grace.

>"What other templates do you possess?"

"What can we make?  Lots of things.  Colossus Tech could probably whip up a suit of that armor if you loaned it to them."

>He jerks in actual shock.

>"Has the Mechanicum been told of these riches?"

>The Mechanicum.  Of course.  You really wish you were familiar with the fiction the resort hired him to represent.

>It's probably something Krogan.

"Not yet.  We want it to be a surprise for ...the Emperor's birthday.  There's a parade planned and everything."

>"The return of your people is a great boon to the Imperium.  In celebration I will grant you the honor of battle under the command of an Astartes."

>He points his sword at you.

>"You will accompany me as I purge this realm of those who have taken my friend."

>Oh, now you get it - survive greeting: receive scripted adventure.

>Tempting, but you have a fortune to make.  

"I'd love to assist but I'm already under Aspartame orders to fight Batarians out on the Perseus arm."

>"Batarians are unknown to me."

"They have four eyes and their heads look like your thumb after a long bath.  Based on my experience their primary life skills are piracy and being assholes, and they're great at multitasking."

>"Xenos of the worst kind.  I will pray that the Emperor gives you strength to see them purged."

"Speaking of which I had better get back to finding my squad."

 

20.

>You pull a couple tubes out of your medical unit and hand them to him.

"Here, have some medi-gel - you look pretty banged up."

>You walk away leaving him staring perplexedly at the glowing vials in his catcher's mitt of a palm.

>Yes, you walk.

>Half an hour of flying followed by panicked barrier generation has given you a headache and your legs could use a stretch.

>Also there's no way in Hell you're floating away like Tinkerbell in front of Captain Testosterone.

>The exit probably isn't much farther anyway.

 

MEANWHILE, IN CANTERLOT

 

>The banishment spell's glow fades from Princess Celestia's horn and she collapses to the marble floor.  She shuts her eyes tightly and presses her cheek against its coolness.

>Luna steps down from the dais and approaches her, her face a mask of concern.

>"Sister, what did that awful creature do to thee?"

>Celestia stands halfway up on her forelegs, a line of drool extending from her mouth.

>"What has been seen"

>She pauses as a shudder of revulsion ripples through her.

>"cannot be unseen."

>She shakily rises to her hooves and opens her eyes, revealing a thousand-yard stare.

>"Or un-smelled."

>Luna opens her mouth to reply but is cut off as the sound of an explosion rocks the palace.  Through the glass ceiling they can see a familiar orange sphere of flame and oncoming cascade of boulders.

 

21.

>Celestia starts forward but is gently restrained by a wing.

>"Stay here and rest, Tia.  We shall take care of this."

>She doesn't object and sinks to the floor again with a quiet moan.

>Luna melts into shadow and coalesces 100 yards above Canterlot's highest parapet.  

>She orients her horn and concentrates.  A transparent scoop-shaped barrier appears in line with the rockslide and neatly catches it.  

>Her jaw tightens as she lifts the hundreds of tons of trapped rock, snow and earth and dumps it into a gully.  

>Platoons of guards are already flying toward the point of impact so she shifts back into the throne room.

>"We have dealt with the immediate danger but we remain puzzled.  Who could be attacking us?"

>Celestia has largely recovered and has returned to the dais.  She shakes her head.

>"I don't know.  No threat that I have ever heard of attacks by launching exploding metal creatures at cities."

>A trio of guards enter the throne room and bow.  The one in the center steps forward and speaks.

>"Your highnesses, We apprehended the intruder.  It threw itself free of the larger thing before it impacted the mountain."

>Celestia cocks her head.

>"So the metal creatures themselves do not explode."

>"No, your majesty."

>The guards start to fidget and the one who was speaking turns slightly green.

>"They are also only metal on the outside."

>Celestia sighs.

>"It was dead, then."

>"It wasn't dead, your majesty, but it was too severely injured to survive long after we found it.  We tried to question it but all it could say before it died was something about a 'goddamned Batarian.'"

 

22.

>The princess' eyes narrow.

>"The first creature mentioned that word before it asked to be sent to Tartarus.  Perhaps I granted its request too hastily."

>Luna has been watching guards flit around the impact crater.  Suddenly she jerks her head to the left and gasps.

>Celestia looks up and sees it too - another projectile is speeding toward the mountain, this time directly at the city.

>"I think not."

>She disappears in a flash of golden light and reappears directly in front of the object, pacing it.

>Part of it is transparent.  Inside she can see another of the smaller things frantically pounding on some sort of button.

>Her horn glows and both she and the projectile decelerate smoothly to a stop high over the city.

>She flies directly over the transparent area and raps it with a hoof.

>"You will tell me who sent you to attack us, and you will do so immediately."

>The metal creature gives no sign that it heard her.  

>It has definitely seen her though.  It is looking directly at her, its paw frozen in place over the button.

>With a horn pulse she rips the top of the object apart, exposing the creature to open air.

>She moves closer, placing two hooves directly in front of where it's sitting.

>"You will answer me /now/, metal one.  Who sent you?"

"AAAAAAAAAGH!!!!"

>Sergeant Redshirt throws his arms up protectively and covers his faceplate with his hands.

"This is not happening this is not happening this is not happening this is not happening."

>The feminine voice repeats its demand, this time sounding even angrier.

>"I will not ask again.  WHO SENT YOU?"

>Redshirt peeps through his fingers.  His lower lip quivers as he stares at the pretty floating pastel pony in despair.

"I-I've died.  I must have died.  I died and I've gone to the most ridiculous possible Hell!"

 

23.

>Celestia vibrates with frustration as the thing begins to openly weep.

>"Enough of this!"

>With a surge of power she inverts the projectile and shakes the creature out of it, then turns and flings the massive object out into the Everfree forest.

>She snaps around with a wingflap to continue her interrogation, but her captive has disappeared.

>A faint scream from below catches her attention and she darts downward.

>Beneath cloud level she catches her first glimpse of the ground and winces.

>"...oops."

>The guards were right; the attackers are indeed only metal on the outside.

>Also apparently not all of them are able to fly.

 

MEANWHILE, IN TARTARUS

 

>You've been walking long enough for your headache to recede and for the big guy to be out of eyesight so you inspect Flite Stikk® for integrity and lift it over your head.

>Before you can take off, a genespliced dog pops out of a bush and nails you in the helmet with a crossbow bolt.

>You trade the stick for your shotgun and fire a warning shot.

>It freezes, dropping its weapon.

>"Pick that up and you're Alpo, buddy."

>You approach, keeping your gun aimed at its torso.

>the dog's brow is furrowed and it's looking back and forth between you and its crossbow.

>Its face suddenly brightens and it points behind you.

>"Look out, it's Celestia!"

>You turn around but there's nothing there.

>There are no words for how stupid you feel at this moment.

>You spin back around in time to see another bolt headed your way and reflexively fire. The dog drops like a sack of potatoes, a fist-sized hole punched in its chest.

"Ah, crap."