Per Mare, Per Equestria

“Ahhh.”

The scream echoed through the jungle, reverberating around the trees and causing leaves to fall from the trees.

“Uhhh,” I groaned, pushing the corpse off me and propping myself up on my elbows. “Jenkins?”

“M-Matt?” Came the faint reply.

Looking over, I could see Jenkins moving weakly beneath the body of the Marine I had thrown on him. Crawling over, clutching at numerous cuts and gashes on my stomach, I rolled the body off of him, revealing the blood stained form of my Colour Sergeant.

“Warning…next time please,” He wheezed, giving me a weak grin, revealing multiple gaps in his mouth where teeth had been chipped or knocked out completely.

“I’ll let you get hit next time shall I?” I replied sarcastically, before unsteadily getting to my feet, groaning as the action put stress on the bullet wound on my shoulder.

Slowly, I looked around for any of my men, or for anyone at all for that matter. Instead, all I was met by was the unending jungle that surrounded us, the odd sound of an animal call breaking up the near silence.

“Where are we?” I asked, sounding dumbstruck.

“I assumed you knew,” Came the strained response, Jenkins shakily lifting his shirt to look beneath it, able to take a bit of time to deal with wounds now the immediate danger seemed to have passed.

Crouching down, I crept up towards the edge of the clearing and began to search through it. Finding nothing, I went to the other side of the clearing and repeated myself. I repeated the action five times, before returning to Jenkins, who was grimacing as he grabbed hold of a trauma bandage and shoved it onto a wound in his stomach.

“This is odd,” I began, taking the bandage from him and wrapping it round the wound. “There nothing here. No casualties, no buildings in sight. Hell, there isn’t even any brass lying around.”

“Think the explosion could have tossed us around a bit?” Jenkins grunted as I pulled the bandage tighter.

“Possible, but surely someone would have found us by now. Either a Marine or one of the Militia.”

“Could have only been a few minutes?” Jenkins suggested, slapping my hands away as I tried to apply a second bandage, before wrapping it round himself.

“Well for one thing, I can’t hear any sort of fire or sounds of talking. And for another thing, the raid started at five in the morning.”

“So?”

“Look up Einstein,” I replied with a grimace.

Jenkins cast his eyes upwards, and for the first time actually took in his surroundings. The entire area was surrounded by massive trees that seemed to stretch on until they reached the sky. The conspicuously light blue sky.

“Ahh,” Jenkins said, realisation dawning on his face.

“Yeah. I’d say it’s about four, five, maybe later, I’d tell you more specifically, but I think my watch is broken, it’s still reading the same time,” I sighed, shaking my digital watch and cycling through the features, confused as it all seemed to be working fine, before turning back to Jenkins. “Someone should have found us by now. So either we died, and this is some shitty excuse for an afterlife, or we’re really, really lost.”

Taking a signal from Jenkins, I moved towards him quickly, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and slowly helping him to his feet. He grunted in pain as the bandages shifted position over his wounds, but still pushing my arm off him, standing up under his own steam.

“Course of action then?” Jenkins asked.

Raising my hand, I silenced Jenkins, while I fiddled with the headset still around my head.

“This is Blackhawk, calling any friendly forces in the area, myself and one friendly are requesting immediate extraction. Friendly is injured and requires medical attention. Please respond, over.”

I was met with nothing, save for the feedback from the proximity of Jenkins radio. Undeterred, I tried again.

“I repeat, this is Blackhawk, calling any friendly forces in the area, myself and one friendly are requesting immediate extraction. Friendly is injured and requires medical attention. Please respond, over.”

Once again, I was met with nothing but a small crackle of static. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the radio again.

“Any allied forces in the area, RESPOND!” I shouted, but was met again with static.

“FUCK!” I roared, tearing the headset off and tossing it away from me. The gesture was largely symbolic, as the cord simply made it spring back to my side. Sighing, I picked the headset back up, strapping it over my head once again.

“So. That failed. Next course of action?” Jenkins asked, grunting as he prodded his stomach.

“Take inventory, make sure you’re stabilised and then attempt to link up with any friendly forces in the area. Failing that we find a secure area to rest for the night and try and work out what to do in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan. What do we do with these guys?” Jenkins asked, swaying slightly as he gestured at the two dead Marines.

I stood still for a second, contemplating what I could do. On one hand, the idea of leaving them was adherent to me, the idea that they deserved to be returned to Britain as heroes, not left in some mosquito infested jungle to rot, was partly the reason I was now in this situation, and my views hadn’t changed. On the other hand, neither Jenkins nor I were in any condition to be lugging around two corpses as well as our gear, through possibly hostile territory, and trying to save the dead was a likely way to get the living to join them.

“We’ll bury them here. I’ll make something so we might be able to find them again later, but that’s all we can do,” I sighed reluctantly. “I’ll dig the holes, you sit down and rest.”

“But…” Jenkins began.

“Order,” I cut him off with a slight smile.

“Yes sir,” Jenkins replied sarcastically, limping over towards a tree and sliding down it, using it to prop himself up so he could still cover me if need be.

I began to slowly scrape away the top layer of plants and grass, before grabbing an entrenching tool from one of the dead and setting to work on the rough earth beneath.

Before long, I had managed to dig a pair of shallow graves for the fallen soldiers, and after stripping them of their weapons and gear, I rolled them into the holes and began to push the earth back on top of them. The work must have taken at least an hour, but eventually both of the corpses were buried under a few feet of mud, their equipment and dog tags in a pile next to the two mounds. Taking a pile of rocks he had collected, Jenkins hobbled over and began to arrange them on top of one of the makeshift graves, marking it so we could come back and retrieve them for proper burial later, unless of course we were still in hostile territory.

After the ad hoc funeral service had been held, Jenkins and I turned towards the pile of equipment and began sorting through it. After a few minutes, we laid out everything that was useful in a single pile, while the rest was pushed to one side.

“Okay, we’ve got my C8 carbine, a GPMG which is helpfully chambered in 7.62 rounds, thirteen frag grenades, sixteen smoke grenades. Eight days’ worth of MREs, Six full bottles of water, two half full ones, six remaining field dressings, four weapons cleaning kits, four tubs of cam cream and sixteen glowsticks, two pistols with two magazines each and a pair of broken SA80s which may be good for parts,” I listed off, surveying the pile of equipment. “How are we doing on ammo?”

“Three full boxes for the GPMG and another one with twenty three rounds left,  twenty four magazines of 5.56, so let’s say six hundred and fifty rounds at a conservative guess,” Jenkins replied, looking at the array of magazines and metal ammo boxes around him. “Good thing we were ready for a long deployment, extra ammo may come in very handy.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s as good a way of looking at it as any,” I nodded, before beginning to pack up some of the equipment into mine and Jenkins Bergen’s. We would have had more gear from the dead, but using their bodies as cover had rather shredded anything on their back, making their bags and anything within functionally useless. “I’ll take a couple of the jimpy ammo boxes for you and most of the gear, if you’re still up to carrying the GPMG that is?”

“Major, look who you’re talking to,” Jenkins smiled, although it turned into a leer as he grunted in pain, before stooping down and grabbing the GPMG, slinging it over his shoulders. “I’m not going to let you down now.”

“I know you’re not,” I nodded, finishing packing my gear away and hoisting my Bergen onto my back, before straightening my assault vest and webbing. “I’m set.”

“We ready then?” Jenkins asked finally, picking up the GPMG and attaching the half full ammo container to it, grunting slightly and grasping at his stomach, before waving it off and standing up straight again, strapping the remaining ammo container to his belt.

“Almost. Here,” I said, holding out four grenades, two frag and two smoke.

“Thanks,” He replied, hooking the grenades to his assault jacket. “Should we get moving then?”

“Depends, how good is my cam?” I asked, looking over Jenkins face and kit. “I’d say you’re as good as you can be without taking kit off and reapplying.”

“Same with you, maybe a bit more on your ears,” Jenkins replied, passing me a cam cream tub. “The original plan was to meet up with friendly forces twelve kilometres east of the raid position wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” I replied, reaching for a map that was tucked down my combat smock and beginning to look it over. “Problem is I don’t know where we are, can’t see any similar markings from the map and the land.”

“So…I guess the best plan would be to head east and see if we can find friendlies?” Jenkins asked with a smile, which turned to a grimace as he put the cam cream away.

“Yeah, sounds good. And keep it down Jenkins, I’d prefer not to attract any hostiles in the area. Subtly is the name of the game here, think you can do that?” I joked, checking and cocking my own rifle, allowing the working parts to go forward slowly to reduce the noise it made. “I’ll take point and keep it slow for you, you’re not exactly in the best condition at the moment.”

Moving forward, I began to slowly move into the undergrowth in front of us, scanning the area with my weapon as I advanced. Sticking close to me, Jenkins advanced as well, scanning the rear arcs for any sign of movement. As we moved through the jungle, I took time to think about the equipment we actually had.

Sure the pair of us had weapons and enough rounds to survive for a while, we didn’t have too much in the way of food, and more importantly, water. If the rest of the Marines that had been waiting for us had already moved off thinking we were dead, it would take us a lot more time to get to an area where we could call for extraction. Finding food and water would become a necessity, and that would just make us easier targets for anyone who wanted to kill us, which to me was everyone in this godforsaken country.

To take my mind off the possibility of starving, dehydrating and/or being found by pirates, I began to flick through the channels on my radio, mostly getting static, before finally finding one that seemed to be clear.

“Major? Is that you on the comms?” Jenkins whispered softly, putting a hand over the mic.

“I hope so,” I nodded, before speaking into the mic. “This is Blackhawk.”

“Yeah, luckily for us you didn’t just broadcast our position to the entire world,” Jenkins chuckled. “At least it means we have comms between the pair of us.”

“And hopefully only us,” I nodded.

After that, Jenkins and I lapsed into an easy silence, focusing on the simple act of moving forward, checking our arcs and doing what half of our training was teaching us to do efficiently. For hours upon hours, according to my watch at least, which left me slightly sceptical about the accuracy of the time, we walked, before I finally held up a fist, dropping to a knee and peering through the trees into a clearing ahead.

“Jenkins,” I muttered over the radio. “You may want to come and look at this.”

From the rustling from behind me, I knew Jenkins was coming, and he was soon crouching beside me, staring out at the clearing with an almost identical look of confusion on his face.

“Matt. Somalia doesn’t have a population of indigenous Mayans that someone forgot to tell me about does it?” Jenkins asked wryly as he looked at the huge stone building before us, rising up like some Mayan or Aztec temple.

“No.” I replied. I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that while they were similar to the actual ones in Mexico, there was something off about them as well, almost as if the proportions were all wrong. “Wherever we are, I don’t think we’re in Somalia anymore.”

“So we’re dead then? This is the afterlife?” Jenkins asked, looking crestfallen.

“I don’t think so. Shitty afterlife if it is,” I shook my head. “I honestly have no idea Jenkins. Maybe we are dead, maybe we’re not, but until we get conformation, assume hostility from the natives. Just, you know, don’t open fire on them unless we know they’re trying to kill us.”

“Got it. Plan of action?” Jenkins asked with a wince.

“I’ll take point again and we can go check the temple out. At the very least we may be able to find a good position to bunker down for the night. Looks defensible at the least.”

“As long as it only has the one entrance.” Jenkins said with a nod, before moving slightly to the side and allowing me to make my way out of the jungle and towards the temple.

Quickly reaching the stairs, I began the short ascent to the temple on top, keeping my rifle trained on the top in case something came down towards us. I finally reached the top, stopping just at the large entrance and allowing Jenkins to catch up with me, taking cover on the opposite side of the doorway from the one I was on. By now it was getting late, and the sun was already beginning to dip below the treeline of the forest. I had anticipated having to light some glowsticks to find our way inside, but two rows of lit torches meant the light up here wasn’t too bad. Whatever this temple was, it had had visitors, and recently.

“Looks like someone’s home.” Jenkins said, looking at the burning torches.

“Yeah.” I nodded, trying to see how far the corridor went. “Where the hell do you think we’ve gotten ourselves to this time?”

“Hell?” Jenkins offered helpfully. “At least it’s not the first time we’ve got lost together.”

“I don’t think wandering off drunk when we were eighteen and winding up in Manchester the next morning compares to this,” I shot back.

“True,” Jenkins nodded, grunting as he readied his weapon, holding it by his waist by the top handle. It wouldn’t be accurate, but in the confined tunnels that we were about to enter, filling the room with bullets would more than suffice. “I’m ready to move in when you are.”

“You sure you’re ok?” I asked.

“Stop asking Matt, I’m fine,” Jenkins shot back in reply, trying and failing to hide yet another grimace. I knew he wasn’t ok, but I also knew that I’d have better luck swimming back to England from Somalia than getting him to admit he wouldn’t be able to serve at his peak in this sort of situation.

Nodding, I began to advance down the corridor, looking nervously at the floor and the ceiling, my rifle pulled tight into my shoulder, ready to engage and eliminate any threat as soon as it presented itself. If this was a Mayan or indigenous temple, it would most likely have some sort of booby traps dotted around the place, and regardless of the age of them, I’d rather not set them off, especially with Jenkins in a less than ok state, no matter what he told me.

Eventually, we reached the end of the corridor uneventfully, which was a welcome relief, and meant we had hopefully found a place to set up for the night.

“Sir,” whispered Jenkins from behind me. “I can hear voices.”

“You sure?” I asked, straining my own ears.

“Completely.”

Edging forward slightly, I began to make out the voices Jenkins had been talking about. I began to make out a few snippets of the conversation.

“Sir, I didn’t know you were visiting us,” one voice sounded, carrying across the still air of the temple.

“Now you do Lieutenant,” came another voice, who I assumed was the commanding officer of whatever army these people belonged to. “Report.”

“Yes sir. Four Minotaur Witch Doctor’s and a detachment of Griffon outriders were defending the temple. The Witch Doctor’s seemed to be trying to complete some sort of rune arrangement. You can see what they had done before we got here sir.”

“Hmm, looks like some sort of transport runes, and…” there was a brief pause, followed by a loud pop and shimmering sound, before whoever it was continued talking, his voice getting quieter as he moved further away, heralded by what sounded like hoofsteps. “By the sun, this is powerful. I don’t know how far this could…”

I lost track of the voice, it getting to far away for me to hear properly. Instead, I turned to Jenkins, moving closer so I could whisper directly to him without whoever was around the corner hearing.

“What the hell is that all about?” I all but mouthed.

“No bloody idea,” Jenkins shook his head. “I would have said just some weird tribal names or something, but then they started talking about runes as if they were real. The voices were talking to a superior officer, so they sound more advanced, but…I guess they could still be a tribe?”

“I guess that makes as much sense as anything,” I nodded. “God there are just too many unknowns here. Alright, best case scenario in your eyes?”

“Drug addicts?” Jenkins suggested.

“I was going to say I hope they’re just a few local tribes and they won’t be that much of a problem. After all, I don’t know many tribes that can stand up to 7.62 rounds.”

“And worst case scenario?” Jenkins whispered.

“Actual Minotaur’s, Griffons and whatever the speakers are,” I shrugged, before allowing a soft chuckle to escape my lips. “I know unarmoured tribals can’t stand up to bullets, but surprisingly I’ve never met a mythological creature. It will be an interesting test if nothing else.”

“So much for ‘Subtly is the name of the game here’” Jenkins retorted.  “So, think we should go in for a closer look then?”

“Yeah. They’re speaking English, so maybe they can help us a bit, you never know,” I nodded. “You stay here, I want to look at them before you come out ok?”

“Fine, just don’t do anything stupid,” Jenkins smirked, leaning against the wall.

Nodding, I slowly made my way into the room, before darting across the open space and into an alcove on the other side. Peering round the corner, I searched for the source of the voices. It didn’t take me long to find them, causing my jaw to drop to the floor in record time.

Just around the corner, stood a group of horses, of all shapes and sizes, ranging from a few massive hulking brutes to scrawny looking ones, although just from here, I estimated that the tallest one was possibly up to my chest. What was even more impressive and bizarre though, other than their technicolored coats, was the additions of various mythological add-ons. I spotted at least a handful of Pegasus, and even a Unicorn in their numbers. Each one was wearing a gun metal chestplate, and carrying an assortment of weapons.

How a creature with no hands could make use of a sword or a spear was right up there with how in the hell they had been talking and where the fuck we were. Still stunned, I managed to dart back across the hall, looking at Jenkins then around the corner again.

“So? Who’s in there?” came the whispered voice of Jenkins from behind me.

“I have no idea how to even begin to explain it. Something tells me we’re not in Somalia though,” I whispered in a stunned voice.

“Oh come on, what are they? Stupid kids? Pirates? Tribals? What?” Jenkins pressed. “Whatever they are can’t be that hard to explain.”

“Take a look for yourself and you’ll see,” I gestured with my head.

“I will then. Give me a sec,” He said, edging past me and glancing out around the corner as I had done.

As I had predicted, his reaction was almost identical to mine, his jaw dropping and working is disbelief at the scene before him. Eventually he pulled his head back and stared at me in disbelief.

“You seeing this?” He all but mouthed.

“Yep. Still working on believing,” I said uncertainly.

“What do we do?” Jenkins asked.

“You tell me. There isn’t really a training scenario for coming face to face with talking horses.”

“Do we at least assume hostile?” He asked uncertainly.

“No,” I said after a moment’s deliberation. “First of all, and I know this is going to sound cheesy, this is a first contact scenario, and whenever they’re brought up in history or in any sort of fiction, they never go well if you go in guns blazing. Secondly, you’re wounded badly, and I’m not in top shape either. For all we know they could be the only things around here capable of offering assistance.”

“So we ask nicely?” He asked with a nod of agreement.

“We’ve got the upper hand in weapons, better armour when it comes to ballistics and in all likelihood, better training, so yes, we can ask nicely. Unless they try anything that is.”

Nodding in agreement, Jenkins pushed himself off the wall, loosely holding the GMPG and looking at me. I nodded back, allowing my weapon to hang by my side in a non-threatening way. It was still close enough that I could reach it quickly if anything did happen. Taking a deep breath I took a step out from the corner, Jenkins following

“Movement!” Shouted one of the horses, and in an instant, all of them were on their hooves looking at the pair of us as we walked, well limped, around the corner.

We must have looked a right state to them, especially if equines were the only form of intelligent life on this planet. Two armoured and armed bipeds walking towards a group of soldiers that must have number at least thirty with our weapons slung at our sides, while sporting various wounds. They simply stared at us for a moment, probably trying to work out if we were idiots for approaching them with so few men to back us up, or if we were simply that confident in our own abilities that we didn’t need back-up.

Truthfully, it was probably a case of six of one, half a dozen of the other.

Nothing moved on either side, both of our groups too shocked by the others presence to actually do anything. Eventually, the spell was broken as one the Unicorn horses moved, a semi-transparent haze surrounding the horn atop its head. At the same time, an identically coloured haze surrounded the scabbard of its sword, pulling it from its scabbard and pointing it at Jenkins and I. The rest of the horses instantly did similar things, either holding weapons in their mouths, in their own hazes, or sporting bizarre blades along their wings, all pointing threateningly at the two of us.

With a snarl, Jenkins braced himself, the weapon forced against his hip as he gripped the pistol grip of his machine gun, his finger ready to pull the trigger at even the slightest sign of danger. I too was ready, my carbine pushed into my shoulder as I aimed at the unicorn who had first drawn his sword, his armour looking a lot more embellished than the others, donating a possible leader of this group.

“Lower whatever you’re carrying and surrender,” the Unicorn who I was pointing my weapon at said calmly, taking a single step forward. “You’re outnumbered, make this easy on yourself.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Jenkins growled through gritted teeth. “You get out of here and I wake up from this bloody nightmare. I am not going to be threatened by talking horses.”

“I’ll repeat, lower whatever it is you’re carrying and I assure you as Lord Militant of the Equestrian forces that you will be treated fairly in accordance with our laws as prisoners of war,” the unicorn repeated. “If not we will be forced to terminate you. We have the upper hoof, don’t throw your lives away.”

“No. You really don’t,” Jenkins grunted, tightening his finger around the trigger as a trickle of blood began to leak from beneath the bandage. “We have the upper hand in this fight.

“Jenkins. Stand down,” I called, placing a hand on the barrel of his weapon and forcing it down, before allowing the barrel of my rifle to point towards the floor as I took a step towards the horse in charge. “You too. Put your weapons down unless you’re prepared to use them. I don’t want this to end in bloodshed, and I’m sure you don’t either. If you’re in command here, listen to reason and we’ll get through this, on my word as a Major in the British armed forces.”

“I have more troops than you do,” the unicorn reiterated. “You have no bargaining power to speak of. You will surrender.”

“Put down the weapons and we can talk this out,” I replied firmly.

“Matt,” Jenkins wheezed from behind me. “Don’t think...I’m going to be…much help…at…moment.” He all but whispered the final words, before falling flat on his face, more blood oozing from around the bandages on his stomach.

Suddenly, I forgot all about the armed horses in front of me, and turned back to Jenkins. Kneeling down beside him, I rolled him over and ripped the bandage off, revealing the wound underneath. A glint of metal told me that there was still a bullet in there, and I desperately began to apply pressure to the wound while reaching into my webbing to pull out another FFD.

“Give me a hand here!” I shouted, hoping that somepony would lend a hoof.

When nothing happened, I turned around and looked back at the group, staring at them as they all simply looked at me in a mixture of confusion and shock. Growling, I took my weapon off my shoulders and dropped it on the floor, looking up at the unicorn.

“Please, I’ll do what you want, but you’ve got to help him. I’m begging you.”

“What do we do sir?” asked one of the hornless and wingless ponies, mumbling around the spear that was in his mouth.

“Stabilise that one,” the unicorn said finally, gesturing at Jenkins, before looking at me. “You, step away from him now. My ponies will stabilise him, but you’ve surrendered to me.  You have my word you’ll be safe, the pair of you. Now, don’t fight this.”

Instantly, the unicorn’s horn lit up once more, and I felt an odd warmth in my head. In an instant, I felt all my weariness and pain from the day’s events suddenly catch up on me. It was painful, but at the same time, it was kind of relaxing, and I slowly sank to the floor, my eyes getting heavier and heavier as I fought tooth and nail to stay awake, watching as the horses, no the ponies, got to work on Jenkins.

“Why don’t we just kill them?” Came a voice from the group.

“Because Celestia and Luna will want to question these two…things,” the Unicorn replied. “We don’t want our prisoners dying, especially the injured one. I doubt we’d get much out of the other one if he was allowed to die. Plus we don’t kill prisoners when they surrender willingly. Do you understand private?”

“T-Thank you,” I whispered, before slipping completely into unconsciousness.

***

Celestia & Luna.

Their eyes only

Two strange creatures were found and captured in the jungle temple at approximately 2230 today while we were investigating the magical fluctuations in the Great Southern Rainforest. Both exhibited civilised tendencies and are were akin to Minotaurs in appearance, yet were armed and armoured with equipment unlike anything I have ever laid eyes upon.

Transferring the creature to a secure facility to await your judgement.

Dispatch to the Equestria army headquarters from Lord Militant Greave. Received 1st August, 36 AD