Chapters Thin rays of light broke through the venetian blinds at last, dimly illuminating the interior of the spartan room. In one corner, in a tangle of questionably clean sheets, a velvet red body stirred.
Throwing back the covers, Epsilon Ruby rubbed an eye with one foreleg and pulled the digital clock on his nightstand closer with the other. With a small grunt, the stallion rolled off the bed and stood, taking a moment to gather his wits. Day 18 of Month 26 had officially begun.
The military outpost that Epsilon Ruby staffed on his own had been built five years previous by the Equestrian Royal Guard as a response to the Crystal Empire incident. Being in the far northern reaches of Equestria meant that conditions ranged from "damn, its chilly" to "holy fuck my teeth are ice cubes". Not many creatures were able (or insane enough) to trespass the northern border; guard duty was minimal and monotonous. Epsilon had been alone for over two years, and had developed the opinion that, in war, a pony cracks not from the actual fighting, but the absolute boredom that occurs between it.
This day, Epsilon was to begin the monthly long patrol: a trek of eight kilometers through Celestia knows what to reach the actual border, followed by three days of checking the fences and various motion sensors, before another eight kilometer trudge back to Outpost 12.
With swiftness only a military pony can show, Epsilon tossed spare winter clothing, utensils, and foodstuffs into a large survival saddlebag. Along with basic provisions, the earth pony prepared a sled with a tent and crystal-powered generator. Everything was ready, but Epsilon hesitated a moment. Gathering his wits and bracing for the cold blast he knew awaited him, he let out a quiet sigh and gripped the release handle on the all-weather door before him.
Epsilon fell into a comfortable pace, a trot that he knew he could keep up hours later when feeling far less full of energy. Dead reckoning gave him an estimate of five hours before he sighted the border fence. Until he reached the bivouac site, there would be no opportunities for rest from the elements. Epsilon pressed against the sled harness and pushed on, shaking his velvet red coat to remove the snow.
Kilometer one is always deceptive. Epsilon felt the cold the moment he stepped out from the relative warmth of the outpost, but his body temperature normalized within minutes. After kilometer one, however, the true descent into hypothermia had begun, and the race against time was the tantamount objective. Epsilon recognized the danger, and this knowledge propelled him on. Wind whipped past his glistening muzzle, but he could not stop, not even to wipe his nose.
Kilometer two was the point of no return. Even though Epsilon hadn’t reached the halfway point, the whiteout conditions and lack of landmarks meant that turning back after passing the distance marker was risking drifting off course. In a land where ponies had been known to get lost just walking to the side of the house for firewood and dying mere meters from their homes, a course deviation of only a few minutes of a degree could be a serious threat. Epsilon knew this, of course, and he pushed on.
Kilometer three became a battle of the mind. At this point, the nearest haven of warmth lay over an hour's trek behind, and the only promised warmth ahead appeared after camp was set up and the generator running. A weak-willed pony could let his mind wander from his compass and his watch, a weak-willed pony would grow increasingly worried about the numbness creeping up from his hooves. Epsilon would not be that pony.
During kilometer four, Epsilon experienced a period of deceptive happiness. The halfway point has been reached in just under three hours! Now, every step beyond this point made the bivouac site even more close than the outpost. If pacing was not kept in check, however, he would lose his strength long before he could afford to. By now, his muscles moaned, his tendons were taut, and his heart, heavy. Epsilon ignored them, and kept on.
Kilometers five through seven passed in numbness. Numbness of mind and numbness of thought. Epsilon’s tired body laboured carefully not to waste precious energy on anything but respiration and putting one hoof in front of the other. He welcomed this state, and it carried him to kilometer eight.
Kilometer eight was the worst. No matter how much training, no matter how well clothed from the elements, a pony will begin to experience terror at this point. Epsilon’s legs felt numb, his eyelids heavy. He was vaguely aware of how tired felt, and how distant the wind sounded. His mind had begun to consider those blackest "What if?" questions. Epsilon acknowledged his terror, and used it to drive him to the site.
The Bivouac, at last. With laboring breath and a heavy grunt, Epsilon loosened his shoulder straps with chattering teeth. Glancing up from his work, he could barely make out the tall chain-metal fence, topped with barbed wire and fading into the white haze in both directions. Then he stopped.
A large, gaping hole existed in the section of fence directly in front of him.
"Work, dammit!" Epsilon gave the crystal contraption in his hooves a shake. No dice.
Dropping the radio unit in his tent, the Stallion ambled back towards his small fire. He had hoped to send word of the situation and return the next day. Sipping his canteen cup, he added some pine needles to a pot of boiling water and mulled over the days events.
Upon closer inspection, the hole was obviously the work of some sentient creature. The neatly severed links and bent back section of fence had dashed his hopes of some natural cause. It was then that the gravity of the situation had occurred to Epsilon. Considering that he was a fairly fit pony himself, somepony that could manage to trudge to a border fence through blizzard conditions and then proceed to rip a hole in the fence while avoiding all motion sensors in the area was a serious threat.
The crystal generator had only a couple of singed diamonds left in the power box, as it turned out. Somehow, in all of his preparations, Epsilon had forgotten to check that. At least he was able to find some dry pine branches under a dead tree. Things had only gotten worse from that point on. The heavy natural storm moving in was messing with the auralogical sphere in the area, making transmission via crystalline energy spotty at best. As a hostile border breach was considered a class III event, the issue had to be reported as soon as possible. And while Epsilon did not fear getting reprimanded for issues beyond his control, he did fear what had caused the breach, and what it was now doing in Equestria.
He poured himself another canteen of pine needle tea, and downed it, relishing the warmth it gave off as he swallowed.
There was no other option for the matter. Darkness was approaching, but the crystals he had on him would give enough energy to run a makeshift headlamp. Epsilon was going to make the return trip at night, and with only three hours of rest.
The snow was blowing sideways, and managed to get into every small opening on Epsilon's parka. He felt uneasy. Even as he grew increasingly restless, he understood that it was fear itself that threatened his life the most. Yet for some reason, he could not maintain his military bearing. As he pushed farther forward through the icy blackness around him, a nervous whinny escaped him.
Four hours later: Checkpoint four. Shit, only halfway! Epsilon chewed his lip nervously, then made a decision. Grabbing a knife from its shoulder sheath, he quickly severed the sled harness. Hopefully he could return for it another time.
Six hours later: The light bulb surrounded by a mass of wires around his head began to flicker. At his current pace, he still had a kilometer to go! Epsilon twisted the light bulb, trying to secure it. He heard a pop from the last diamond as darkness engulfed him. Terror was swirling about him in the wind. All about him, he saw only an inky sea of nothingness. His chest began to rise and fall rapidly. Epsilon Ruby knew the statistics: he was dead. He closed his eyes.
* * *
"Hey, Red! Wait up!"
Epsilon Ruby stopped walking down the hallway. A mare, two months younger than him, trotted to his side. "Say, you look snazzy."
The stallion blushed. "You do too, Brighty."
Bright Hue stuck her tongue out. "I'll bet you that I scored higher on the exit exam! That old coot, Sergeant March, looked shocked when I handed him my test."
"Probably because he'd never seen such horrid handwriting." Epsilon winked, then ducked his head as Bright Hue swished her tail at his face.
"Com'on, we have time to catch the train to Ponyville yet. I heard a group from academy squad three is meeting up at Sugarcube Corner to celebrate the end of finals!" Bright Hue ran ahead of Epsilon, who took a moment to stare at his marefriend. Boy, he was lucky.
* * *
Epsilon snapped open his eyes. The darkness still consumed his vision. But he hadn’t moved; he was still facing South. He stood, shook the snow out of his forelock, and began trotting forward once more.
A nice cup of coffee. And all the fresh hay I can eat. Epsilon repeated this mantra, and when it wasn't enough to keep him moving forward, he dug into his heart, and began thinking of the mare with the sky blue mane and lemonade yellow coat.
Finally, Epsilon sank to his hooves once more. His muzzle dripped with spittle and wet snow. Looking up, he saw the red beacon of Outpost 12.
Sugarcube Corner. Boy, what a place! The delicious desserts, confections, and overall diabetes bombs that came from the ovens of the giant gingerbread house took Equestria by storm the from the moment they first passed ponies' lips. It was the lure of world-class treats that brought a large contingent of the Equestrian Royal Military Academy's graduating officers to the cafe that evening, and among the young mares and stallions were Epsilon Ruby and Bright Hue.
"Hey, Red! You gotta try this Lemon Surprise!" Bright Hue deftly snatched a pair of white-frosted cupcakes topped with lemon zest from a table covered in various sweets and passed one to Epsilon, taking a hearty bite out of the other. "Mmm. Fantastic, my favorite!"
Epsilon made a mental note of Bright Hue's favorite flavor before sampling it himself. "Woah. Tangy."
The two had relocated to the outside of the noisy cafe, enjoying the cool spring air and muffled sounds of merriment in the crowded building behind them.
"So," Epsilon idly spoke, "Where are you hoping to be stationed?"
Bright Hue's ears twitched. "Hmm. I was thinking a nice cushy stint in Manehatten would be nice. How about you? I remember you telling me something about the Crystal Kingdom."
Epsilon grinned. "Yeah, everyone tries for Canterlot, royal guard duty and all. I figure I have a better chance landing a spot with an alicorn if I apply up north. Besides, Shining Armor is relocating there since Cadence is apparently the Queen of that area..." Epsilon's voice faded out as visions of a future in Shining Armor's personal detail came to mind.
Bright Hue flicked a piece of frosting at Epsilon's nose. "Hey, I'm your marefriend, not some silly captain of the guard! If you get the assignment, be sure to leave Shining Armor time alone with his wife occasionally."
"Hey I... wha... marry Shining Armor?" stammered Epsilon, ears laying back. "Silly filly, you know I love you."
Bright Hue glanced down. "Remember the deal. No talk of lo-"
"No talk of love or engagement or any of that nonsense until after our three years. I know. I just can't help it sometimes!"
The yellow mare looked Epsilon in the eyes. "I understand. I can't help it either." The two leaned into each other's eyes, breath heavy, hearts pounding.
SPLASH
"Hey, Red! Watch that you don't start a fire while the night’s still young!" A Grinning dark-blue pegasus was hovering above the young couple, empty punchbowl in hand.
Epsilon raised a hoof, but Bright Hue placed a hoof over his mouth. "It's just Splashdown being Splashdown. Let him have his fun tonight. As a matter-of-fact, we aren't going to see anypony from here for at least the next three years!"
Epsilon lowered his hoof, but felt cold inside. So close to a first kiss...
The three ponies pushed the doors to Sugarcube corner open and drifted into a sea of color, sound, and happiness for one last night.
Epsilon Ruby idly kicked a hoof, and gazed around the empty meeting room. It was a small room, meant only for the most intimate of equestria’s military secrets. The ceiling curved in one continuous sphere down to the floor, where it flattened out into an unassuming circle of carpet. directly behind Epsilon stood the single entrance, a heavily-reinforced wooden door that jutted out from the otherwise spherical surroundings.
He was sitting at a round table in the center of the otherwise-empty room, nervously pawing at a folder on the table. The folder contained Epsilon’s written testimony about “Incident 08”, as it was now officially called, as well as various photos of the breached fence. The report resulted in a bit of a clusterfuck within the upper brass at the Crystal Empire; Epsilon had been summoned to meet with the Captain of the Guard himself as a result.
The door opened on silent hinges. Epsilon Ruby rose from his seat, taking care not to commit a military faux pas in the presence of his idol.
“As you were, Corporal,” said Shining Armor, in the practiced even voice of a military office.
Epsilon returned to his seat as Shining Armor took his place on the other end of the table. A period of awkward silence passed before Epsilon remembered what he was holding, and hastily pushed the documents across the table for the Captain’s inspection.
“So,” Shining Armor slipped into a slightly more informal tone as he levitated a pair of reading glasses to his eyes, “It seems that your little discovery has caused quite a commotion within the Royal family. Something along the lines of me sending out two battalions to sweep the Northern border.”
Epsilon’s face must have shown his confusion, as Shining Armor elaborated: “I’m asking for your opinion, Corporal.”
“Oh... yes sir!” He paused a moment to consider the decision. It seemed fairly straightforward to him: send out patrols, find the bastard that was causing the disturbance, case closed. Shining Armor must know that. Epsilon sighed, deciding to go with his gut. “Sir, military tactics would suggest that a sweep would be the correct course of action. However...”
Shining Armor said nothing, but kept his eyes on the papers in the folder.
Epsilon pushed forward. “Sir, this may be a deviation from standard military procedure, but I believe that such actions would be incredibly inefficient. I’ve spent over two years on patrol out there, and a green soldier not accustomed to the climate would be unable to pace himself well, remain hydrated, recognize the various dangers presented by exposure and hypothermia. In my opinion, I think... I am confident in saying that a small team of trained guardsmen would get the job done better and safer.”
Epsilon sat down, not realizing he had stood up as his voice grew stronger in his discourse.
Shining Armor lowered his glasses to the table, and looked up from the documents. “Very interesting suggestion.” He paused, before finishing, “Sergeant.”
The Captain of the Guard stood, and beckoned Epsilon to follow him.
“I was considering the same plan of action. While you were en route from Outpost 12, I took the liberty of perusing your service record. Since we built the outpost, we have had 6 ponies in the position of Northern Patrol. You have the longest track record there by a factor of almost a year. As such, I have decided to charge you with the leadership of four ponies that have been specially selected from the Crystal Kingdom Royal Guard. With this charge comes your new rank.”
Shining Armor came to a stop before a set of ornate double-doors; the entrance to the royal chambers. He turned to Epsilon, and locked eyes. “They have been given orders to report to your current lodgings at 0400 hours tomorrow. Do not fail me.”
Shining Armor closed the door behind him, leaving Epsilon in the hallway with a new rank and a shell-shocked countenance.
“The Crystal Kingdom is a bit of a paradox. Somehow, in the middle of the northern reaches of the Equestrian Wilderness, this peaceful and fruitful oasis stands as a bastion against the harsh cold surrounding its borders. Every day, the crystalline citizenry carry out their daily lives within one great idiosyncrasy dominating Equestrian civilization. For in such a world as this, where three races live as one community, a population centre must claim access to nature as it must to science, art, and sport. Ponyville manages to contain the borders of the Everfree, Manehatten stands over the untamed seas, Canterlot fortifies itself amongst the great mountains, The Crystal Kingdom radiates warmth against the arctic bite of the North...
“While such a construct of society is beneficial to the Equine race, it results in an unfortunately oft-overlooked weakness: break the ephemerial chains of nature, and the Ponies suffer.“
Epsilon smirked as he re-read the abstract from his military thesis. In applying for the Crystal Kingdom, he had chosen to stress the importance of maintaining a local billet—which he, of course, should be part of—for “the defense of Equestria’s greatest unchecked threat”. Perhaps the royal military board of science and study had misinterpreted his case, and sent him into the wilderness rather than to its edge.
One of Epsilon’s ears twitched at the sound of a knock. Four in the morning, an ungoddessly early hour to be awake, but the right time for his scouting party. His teeth subconsciously pressed down on his lip as he approached the door. The four ponies behind this door had been specially selected for the task at hand. Would they be outcasts, misfits, loose cannons? Was his thought process romanticizing the whole situation? This isn’t some crappy dime-novel, get a hold of yourself, Red.
He pushed the tangential flashes of thought to the back of his mind where they began to angrily beat at his consciousness. In Luna’s name! He hadn’t even opened the door, and he was failing. He turned around, facing the wall in an attempt to clear his mind, but before he could further prolong his mental paralysis, he heard a small scraping sound, followed by a muffled click .
“Hey Sarge: Either you need to have a major operation or that’s your flank. How about showing us your muzzle?” Dumbfounded, Epsilon turned around automatically. That voice sounded familiar.
“Captain Stormy?”
Four ponies of various age and stature stood in a semicircle, sizing him up. The eldest, a black stallion pegasus starkly contrasted by his electric blue mane, opened his mouth once more. “Yeah. How’s life, former basic Ruby?” the Captain flashed one of his trademark twitchy-side-smiles that appeared and disappeared in a flash of white teeth.
“W-what on earth are you doing here?” Epsilon faltered, hastily adding “Sir.”
“What do you bucking think? I’m running this operation!” Captain Thunder Storm, known by most as Stormy, raised an eyebrow: “You didn’t think the Captain of the Guard was going to assign a Sergeant so green he hadn’t finished pulling his head out of his ass to lead a matter of national security, did you?”
Epsilon’s ears flattened under the verbal assault. “I, well, the Captain of the Guard—”
“—Assigned you to be our guide, yes.” A more diminutive mare spoke up. “My name’s Daisy Chain, by the way.” She pointed to the pony next to her, a near-carbon copy of herself. “This is my sister, Daffodil.”
Captain Storm took the segway as a chance to introduce the party as a whole. Daisy and Daffodil were twin sister unicorns from the Royal Engineer Corps; Daisy specialized in Hardware, while Daffodil focused on Software. Together, they had a near-encyclopedic knowledge of every piece of technology inside and out, which, on this mission, would be needed to analyze the “breach point” (as Epsilon Ruby’s discovery was now called) and determine the equipment used to create the border break. The final pony was an earth pony called Power Flash, a name fitting considering his specialty: Firearms and Explosives. Captain Storm himself had suggested that he be the “Big Gun” of the team.
Captain Storm was an interesting choice. When Epsilon had last met the Officer with the snappy oratory, it had been at a squadron-wide drill-down at the academy. Storm was known to be a by-the-book type of pony; many of his peers said that he had entered the academy as a basic, and never intended to leave. Though he could perform in the field, he had never been officially assigned to lead a detail in a mission against an active threat.
The Captain turned toward the door. “Now that we’ve dispensed with pleasantries, let's call a close to the cocktail hour, shall we? Fall in!”