Friends in High Places

Mac stood by a payphone. Everything seemed so eerily similar to the old base. He quickly deposited his coins and dialled the number that had been committed to muscle memory. The phone begin to ring, and as he had done so many times, he counted the number of times it rang. Halfway through the first ring, he could hear the phone back home being torn away from the desktop.

“Hello?” An excited and nervous Applejack said cautiously into the phone.

“Hey.” Mac replied.

“Hey, Big Mac. How's the weather up there?” Applejack asked, obviously trying to avoid mentioning the war.

“It's cooler up here, but not much.” Mac casually replied, and the line went silent. Applejack was trying to think of something other than the impending mission.

“I deploy tonight.” Macintosh answered her unasked question.

Applejack's breath caught in her throat. She was scared. Macintosh understood. This was one of the longest times he had been away from home, and he might not come back. She wanted to see him again, but didn't know for sure if she would.

“If all goes well, I'll be home in a week.” Macintosh reassured her.

“But... But, what if...” Applejack couldn't ask. This time she didn't even want to think it. But what if Mac never came back.

“I will be back.” Macintosh tried to keep his voice from cracking. “I promise.”

“You better.” Applejack started to break down. “Or-or else-or else I'm comin' after you!”

Macintosh laughed shakily into the phone. “I'll hold you to that, short-stack. If I'm not back in a week, you come after me.”

“I will.” Applejack whimpered.

“Can I,” Macintosh cleared his throat to avoid another voice crack. “Can I talk to Granny?”

“Sure.” Applejack replied. She dropped the phone again, deafening Macintosh. This time, he didn't mind. He laughed shakily as before, fighting to keep from crying. Finally, Granny picked up the phone.

“Macintosh.” Granny said forcefully. “I want to see you on that television in one week. And when I do, you had better be giving that General Koren one-for.”

“I will do my best.” Macintosh chuckled.

“I will be watching, Big Macintosh.” Granny paused. “Give him Hell.”

“Yup!”

They sat motionless in the belly of the great metal bird screaming through the skies of Equestria. The room was only dimly lit by the glow of the lights below. Each stallion in the aircraft was taking the stress in their own way. One sat praying in the corner, others made jokes, and others still just sat in calm, sustained silence awaiting the dangerous drop. Among the latter was Master Corporal Macintosh. He was still scared about the impending jump. He looked to his friends for comfort, and saw his entire squad staring at him. He gave them a silent nod and a salute, which they returned. They were depending on him, and he would not let them down.

As if on cue, the red lights in the aircraft came on, alerting the paratroopers it was almost time to jump. They rose from their seats and gathered near the rear hatch of the metal bird. Lieutenant CogWing came on over their headsets as they sounded off and adjusted their gear.

“Gentlemen, I just want you to know that I am extremely proud of all of you. It's not every day that we have to make a jump. But when we do, it is always a pleasure to have such willing and able men willing to do it. Remember, 'If you have the courage to jump, the parachute will open.'”

With that, the green lights came on and stallion after stallion hurled themselves out of the rear hatch. Those last words still ringing in his ears, Mac felt himself speed towards the ground. After the usual moment, the parachute expanded and he was drifting towards the ground. For some reason, Mac flashed back to the dream he had had the night before. He almost panicked, but then focused on the fact that there were no ravenous hordes of Zebras rushing them and shooting them down. The jump was just as quiet as before, save for the crickets on the plain below. The parachutes landed unhindered on the field. The troops unhooked from their chutes and flocked to their squad commanders.

“What do we do?” One of the stallions in Mac's squad asked.

“Here's the plan. We move around the town to the east, and the capital will only be a day's march. But, we have to move at night, under cover of darkness. The patrols are less likely to be outside of the cities at night, and we can move quieter.” M Cpl. Macintosh explained. “We can't keep too close together, so I will be dividing the squad between myself and Splintstitch. We'll each have six of you. We may be small, but if we're caught, at least they won't have all of us.” He then looked at Splintstitch. “You're the medic, the rest of us will have to make do. Now, move.”

“Yup.” The squad replied and did as they were told. Reelin and Biggs went with Splintstitch and Marktime went with Macintosh.

The squad fanned out and moved towards the trees to take better cover from prying eyes. They were in enemy territory now, and they were all aware of it. Every sound the troops heard almost made them jump out of their skin, but they moved on. There weren't too may of them, only about fourteen each squad, and there were three squads, making them number only forty-two. They did their best to stay away from each other, so if one was caught, the rest could take cover or run with enough distance between them.

Mac had handed his map to Marktime, who had assumed the role of navigator. The other five in the squad were unrecognizable to Mac. He assumed that Topnotch and his friends were in Splintstitch's half. All the better, thought Mac, they'll probably like him better anyway. Each part squad had to take a different path in order to ensure that if one was found, the others would not be. Each squad was given a map with only one path on it, so none of them knew where the others were going.

The sun started to peak over the horizon, and Macintosh decided that they would rest soon, and sleep during the heat of the day. At peak heat, they would post a guard to change every hour they slept. Until the sun was completely free of the horizon, Macintosh kept his squad marching.

Finally, they rested, allowing the stallions to catch their breath and sleep because they had been going for nearly twenty-four hours. Macintosh elected to take the first and last watch, so he could be sure he was perfectly awake to get the rest of the squad moving.

Their rest stop went off without a hitch. They got up after their break was done and started their long march again. Each stallion groggily stood up and took a drink from their canteen before moving on. Marktime looked sickly as they trudged on.

“You gonna be all right?” Mac asked Marktime.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine...” Marktime smiled. “Just tired is all.”

Macintosh didn't believe him. He looked pale, and shaky. Macintosh let it slide though, Marktime might just be nervous from being in enemy territory. Regardless of the problem, Marktime kept them on what he read was the true course. As it turned out, he was wrong. Either due to the lack of landmarks, or problems with the map, or Marktime's health, the squad ended up right where they didn't want to be. They were under orders not to break radio silence, because anyone could be listening. Mac wished to Celestia that they weren't, because he wanted to know where the other half of the squad was. They had ended up on the outskirts of a Zebra city. Mac's mouth went dry, and he looked worriedly around. There was no way they could go around the city and manage to meet up with the rest of the squad in time, it was so big.

“It looks abandoned.” One of Mac's troops pointed out, seeing houses with the doors left ajar and no lights on in the houses. It was the evening, light was fading fast, and they had no idea where they were on the map.

“It might be in our best interest to go through the city if that's the case.” Marktime noted. “If this map got anything right, the meeting point is just on the other side of the city.”

Mac mulled the idea over in his head. “If we can prove the city is vacant, we will cross through.”

As if it were a sign from heaven, Mac saw a sign out of the corner of his eye. He took a pair of binoculars from his jacket and peered in for a closer look. It read:

Notice:
Since this place is far too close to the border,
You must take refuge elsewhere, that's an order.
-General Koren

That made it clear for Macintosh, they would be able to pass through the city, and hopefully find no resistance. They needed to meet up on the other side of the city, and this was the easiest way to do it. If all went well, they would arrive earlier than the rest of the Company. So they set out, crossing the barren city.

When they were crossing through an intersection, spotlights came on to the left of them, catching them off guard.

“Cover!” Mac shouted as soon as he realized what this was. A trap.

The men scurried into the closest buildings, some on one side of the street, the rest on the other. Bullets began to spray over as the trap was sprung. Macintosh and Marktime took cover in the same building, and the other five went into the other. Macintosh prepared to repel any soldiers who would follow them. None of them knew how many Zebra soldiers there were, they had been hidden behind the corona of blinding light.

Shots continued to spray between buildings as Macintosh tried to get a look at what they were up against. He cold not see anything. He needed to see something. But he couldn't. What could he do? Run? He had. Hide? He had. What to do now? They hadn't covered this in training. What do you do when you're pinned down?

Across the street, the troops who had taken cover there were firing back at the Zebra soldiers. From what Mac could tell, one of his troop mates had been killed in the initial spray of bullets. There were only six of them left. Macintosh removed his pistol and started to shoot around the door frame he sat to one side of. He still could not see what he was even fighting, the spotlight was too bright.

Mac needed to conserve ammunition, so he took cover to one side of the door frame. It seemed as though the troops across the street had exhausted their ammunition already. They had never been taught to conserve bullets in their firearms training. They were taught to take a shot as soon as they could, and not stop shooting until the threat was neutralized.

Apparently, the Zebras realized that they had exhausted their ammunition, and stopped firing. In the heat of combat, the Zebras had only seen the four flee into the building across the street, or assumed that Mac and Marktime were shot and dead, because the troops only moved to the house across the street. The Zebra soldiers disappeared into the building, emerging moments later with the other four stallions at gunpoint. They began to load them onto the back of the truck the spotlight was fastened to. The light had been turned off, and as the prisoners were loaded into the back, the engine came to life.

“We have to do something.” Mac hissed, focusing on his captive allies. “How do we deal with hostages? What do we do? Mark-”

Macintosh looked oer his shoulder to see his comrade leaning against the wall, one hoof pressed tightly to his abdomen, the fabric of his jacket around his hoof was dyed red. Marktime looked scared as he breathed quickly and kept his hoof tight.

“No. No. No. No. No.” Macintosh repeated to himself over and over as he scurried over to his ally, listening to the truck speed away in the distance. One man was dead, four more were captured, and Mac refused to lose his friend. He looked around for anything they could use to stop the bleeding. He reached for his first-aid kit, and tearing it open he found nothing for what he needed to treat. He had gauze, but it only covered the wound, it didn't seal it. He continued to repeat the word 'No' to himself as he panicked.

All of a sudden, he heard hoofsteps behind him. Mac turned to see a Zebra standing in the doorway of the next room. He pulled his gun up and moved in front of his friend to keep him safe. Mac could see that this Zebra was not with the army, but he didn't want to take chances.

“Who the Hell are you? And why are you here?” Mac shouted aiming the gun directly at the Zebra.

“This was my house, I refused to leave. The violence here, I can not believe.” The Zebra replied.

“What do you want?” Mac still held the gun poised to shoot at any moment.

“I end of the fighting was long delayed. I heard you still here, I just want to aid.” She showed Mac she had no weapons.

Mac looked over to Marktime, who was still clutching his abdomen. He so wanted to believe the Zebra. He lowered his weapon, and dropped it to the floor. Hooves shaking and eyes watering, he looked to the Zebra helplessly.

“Help me get him into to other room's bed. I have to act fast, or he'll soon be dead.” The Zebra directed. Mac was all too happy to comply. He was so scared for his friend, he would give anything to save him, even trust his enemy.

He did as he was told, and soon Marktime was laid out on a cot in the other room. Mac sat in the corner, his gun holstered, and calmed his nerves. As the Zebra worked, Macintosh took out his radio. He knew he was not supposed to break radio silence, but he was desperate to regroup. He held down the button and spoke. The Zebra Army knew they were there, and Mac needed to get out.

“This is Master Corporal Macintosh to Seven-Six-Wun. If you can hear this, I need your help. I have one stallion dead, one injured, and the rest have been captured. I need extraction. Please... Please help.” He laid the radio on the floor and turned his gaze back to Marktime and the Zebra who was helping him. He stood up, his nerves slightly shaken, but composure regained. Mac walked over to the Zebra who was using some herbal remedies to disinfect the wound.

“You seem to be tired, go and get sleep. I will save your friend, a promise I'll keep.” The Zebra said, keeping her eyes on her work.

“Sure, and while I'm resting, you'll slit both our throats.” Mac growled, still not trusting her to really mean what she said.

“In the Zebra Republic, Doctors take two oaths. My name is Zecora, and I've taken them both.” The Zebra countered. “I swear that I will do no harm. To you or to him, no need for alarm.”

To say Macintosh was exhausted would be an understatement. However, he sat down in the corner and kept his eyes trained as Zecora did her work. He tried to remain conscious, but it was in vain. The fight had taken every ounce of strength out of him, and his vision began to blur. Mac rolled onto his side and fell fast asleep.