Chapters 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 a red stallion the others had nicknamed “Mac-Gun”. He was from a small town where he had been a farmer. Upon hearing about the strife in northeastern Equestria, he had enlisted in the Airborne unit.
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. Their commanding officer 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. They had been practising this since basic training. Those last words still ringing in his ears, Mac felt himself speed towards the ground.
“If you have the courage to jump, the parachute will open.”
“Rise and shine!” Sergeant Fallout shouted in the barracks. All of the new cadets either groaned and turned over, or jumped out of their bunks as fast as they could. “Welcome to your very first day of Para-training! I am Sergeant Fallout, your drill and fitness instructor!”
All of the cadets were standing by their bunks at that point and at attention.
“Now, I don't want to hear any complaining, crying or whining from any of you on how hard it is or how sore you are.” He made sure to emphasize the complaints. “Because I don't want to hear it. I am not your mother, I am not you teacher, I am your Sergeant. If you have a problem I don't want to hear about it. This ain't no summer camp and I ain't no counsellor. You have a problem with how I run my operation, you can leave any time.”
Sergeant Fallout ordered all of the cadets to form up in three even ranks out in front of the barracks for morning PT (Physical Training). Some of the recruits still weren't sure what even meant, and got chewed out for making “a mockery” of Sergeant Fallout's “Beloved Corps”. He had them do pushups. In the back of Macintosh's mind, he knew what the Sergeant was doing was important, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Macintosh never really saw the need in singling out people based on their faults, but who was he to argue?
When the punishment had been completed, Sergeant Fallout had the men run to the mess hall and back. As they all stepped off in unison, Macintosh kept to the centre of the squad. He kept his head low, and made sure to pace himself. He remembered what an ex-serviceman had told him about running in squad.
“When you run in squad, stay to the middle of the pack. Don't go to the front, and don't lag behind. If you're in the front, the officers will think you're cocky. If you're in the back, the officers will not hesitate to make an example out of you.”
He had been right. The squad hadn't been running for a minute when Sergeant Fallout started to slow down to meet up with the stallions who had fallen behind. Macintosh was too focused on what he was doing to pay any attention to what the Sergeant was saying, but boy did he sound angry. Macintosh stole a look over his shoulder to see the Sergeant running along side of a slightly overweight stallion in the back and yelling at him, not even two feet from his face. Again, Macintosh said nothing.
When they had returned to the front of the barracks, Sergeant Fallout halted the squad and turned them to face him. He ordered them into the pushup position and counted them into their task. Again, Fallout moved around the squad and ridiculed those who were having trouble, and nobody said a word. This was what they would have to go through if they wanted to be in the Airborne. Macintosh had no trouble doing pushups since he had grown up having to use all four of his legs to work the farm. The men worked in silence other than having to call the timings of their pushups. When Sergeant Fallout was satisfied, he told them all to stand up. He decided that they would all return to the barracks and change into their combat gear and head to the mess for breakfast. So he dismissed the squad, and they did as they were told.
While in the barracks, Macintosh sought out the overweight stallion the Sergeant had shouted at, and it didn't take long to find him. Th stallion occupied the bunk across from him.
“It's really unfair the way the Sergeant treats you.” Macintosh said as he adjusted his beret.
“Well, I like to think of it as my way of helping you guys out.” The overweight stallion shrugged. He was a brown coloured stallion with green eyes and the equivalent of a southern accent.
“How do you mean?” Macintosh raised an eyebrow.
“If the Sergeant is spending time making fun of me, then the heat's off of you guys.” He said as he buttoned up his jacket. “And, anyway, I can take it. I was on the city police force before I came here, I've heard worse insults.”
Macintosh nodded in agreement, though he still wasn't keen on this guy being insulted, even if he could take it.
“I'm Biggs.” the brown stallion added.
“I'm Macintosh.” Mac said as he was tossing his pack over his shoulder and getting ready to leave the barracks. “But my friends back home call me Mac.”
Macintosh was one of the first few outside and formed up as he had been taught. He stood in silence like the others until everybody had formed up as well, which took longer than it should have. The Sergeant gave them an earful for it before turning them to run to the mess. Because they had taken so long to form up, Sergeant Fallout had them sprint as fast as they could.
As they arrived, scattered and unorganized, the Sergeant yelled at them for not keeping together, specifically chastising the stragglers. He praised the men who had remained at the front of the pack, including Macintosh. Mac felt sorry for those who had fallen behind, he didn't like leaving people, but he had to remain in formation.
“Since you can't keep together, you can't eat together!” Sergeant Fallout Shouted, lightly panting from the run. “Those of you who arrived first may go in and eat, the rest of you will wait out here as long as you made the others wait. Then you can eat.”
It didn't seem like much of a punishment, but from the looks of the stragglers, it looked like if they didn't sit down soon, they would fall over instead. As well, they had already done quite a bit of morning training, they needed to eat. Again, Macintosh just filed this complaint away in his head and did as he was told. As half of the squad fell out and walked up to the mess, Macintosh stole a glance over to Biggs, who looked extremely tired and hungry, yet stood perfectly still at attention.
As Mac entered the mess, he got to meet some of the other characters in his squad. Some of them were very nice, others were rather stereotypical of the military. The one who had arrived first to the mess was a cocky, young stallion with the idea that within a few years of impressive service, he would get his commission and command his own battalion. His name was Topnotch The worst part of him, thought Mac, was that the way he performed during PT and with his military know-how, he might not be too far off the mark. There was another stallion whose size must have made up for his IQ. He was big, strong an dumb as a brick. The only reason he joined the Airborne was because he thought it would be like in the movies.
Even with these characters, Mac found some okay stallions he could sit with. There was Splintstitch; a grey coloured paramedic, Reelin; a blue coloured fisherman, and Marktime; an olive coloured stallion who had just had his eighteenth birthday and enlisted. Splintstitch had graduated from college and enlisted when he couldn't find a job in his field, and had intended to join the medical corps, but found out that the Airborne needed medics. Reelin had joined because he wanted to get out of his small fishing village. Marktime had enlisted because he wanted to be like his dad, grandad, and great grandad, who had all been in the army for years.
“So why'd you join up?” Marktime asked Macintosh.
“I just wanted to lend a helping hoof to the effort.” Macintosh shrugged.
The four of them went on to talk about recent news events and how the fighting was going. When they were in the thick of it, the stragglers were allowed into the mess hall. Macintosh scanned the crowd for Biggs. However, he wasn't the first one to see him, and only found him after Topnotch shouted:
“Hey there Piggs! Don't eat too much or you'll be even slower next time!”
Macintosh couldn't stand for that. Being yelled at by an authority figure was one thing, but insulted by another cadet was something else entirely. Before Macintosh could stand up, though, Reelin shouted back:
“I'll have to remember that one for your mother tonight, Topnotch!”
The Stragglers and the rest of the table couldn't help but laugh at that. It was the funniest thing they had heard since coming to the camp. Reelin said it in such a way that it almost seemed like he didn't mean for Topnotch to hear it. Which, of course, he did. Topnotch and his new friends gave Reelin an evil look for that remark.
“You talk big, but I bet I could kick your ass!” Topnotch shouted back.
“You and what army?” Reelin mused. At that, Topnotch and his crew stood up as if challenging Reelin to make his move. Reelin shook his head. “Really? You're gonna pull that crap on the first day of training? Here? Oh, I'm gonna love seeing you getting chewed out by Fallout.”
Topnotch sat back down with his group. “Just you wait, I'll prove it to you soon enough.”
“Man, that was some quick thinking.” Splintstitch said, still chuckling from Reelin's comment.
Just then, Biggs had a seat next to Macintosh. “Hey Mac.” He said, and then nodding to Reelin, continued. “Thanks for standing up for me there.”
“No problem.” Reelin shook his head.
“Biggs.” Macintosh said. “I'd like to introduce you to my new friends.” Then he motioned to each one as he said their name, “Splintstitch, Reelin, and Marktime.”
They all began a new conversation, much like the one before. Macintosh enjoyed having some polite company to talk with during a meal. They didn't have much time, however, and soon they found themselves formed up on the road again. Macintosh hadn't eaten too much, he didn't want to get sick if they started running again. Macintosh adjusted the beret on his head and fell in with the rest. Sergeant Fallout stood in front of them again and announced what they would be doing from now until bed.
“Here's how it's going to go. PT, PT, and more PT until lunch. Then PT, Pt and more PT until dinner. After that, we have one more class of PT, and you'll all hit the sack by 2200 hours. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sergeant!” The squad shouted back.
“Alright then, we will be running to our first PT class, and all PT classes after that, unless otherwise instructed.” Sergeant Fallout finished. He then turned the in the direction of their first PT class and started them running.
Macintosh couldn't help but feel like something bad was going to happen. Something concerning Topnotch.
Author's Note
I hope you all like it. But if you don't please be courteous and specific with any complaints. This is my first actual story, so I hope I did all right.
The rest of the day went smoothly, with only minor setbacks and hitches. Macintosh was right not to have eaten too much too quickly at breakfast, but others hadn't been so wise. By the time they had arrived at their first PT class after breakfast, at least a quarter of the squad had thrown up on the way, and others were dry heaving just from having to run. Macintosh couldn't help but smile a little when he saw Topnotch's hulk of a friend doubled over next to the road because he had eaten too much. It wasn't that Macintosh hated him, he just liked to see a little bit of Karma in the world.
The rest of the week went about the same as the first day, but by the end of it, all of the cadets were getting into shape, and used to the structure of military life. They managed to run in a properly formed squad and keep their dressing. Biggs had shed more than a few pounds, in fact they all had. Macintosh had kept his new friends close, and Topnotch still occasionally ridiculed them. Whenever he did though, Reelin always had a sharp comeback ready.
It was Sunday, their day of leave and relaxation. Macintosh decided that, since it was his first chance to, he would grab a payphone and call home. He threw in a few bits, picked up the phone and dialled the number. He took off his beret and stood quietly as the phone began to ring. It rang only once. Obviously they were waiting, Mac thought.
He heard someone fumbling with the phone, and then a tiny voice said, “Hello?”
Macintosh identified the voice immediately as his little sister, Applejack. “Hey there, short-stack.” Macintosh said, unable to keep himself from chuckling. It wasn't that the joke was any funnier than the other one hundred times he had used it, it was more of a relaxed laugh because he was finally talking to a member of his family again. “How's life back home?”
“Oh, same-ol, same-ol.” The young Applejack replied. “Me 'n Granny've been hard at work keeping everything together here without you. When're you coming home?”
Macintosh had a mixed emotion of sadness and happiness as he replied. “I've only been gone a week. Hopefully, though, I'll be done training in about six more weeks and be stationed somewhere close to home, so I can help out on occasion.” He didn't know for sure whether they would station him near his home, but he held out hope.
“I miss you tons, Big Mac.” Applejack said. “I can't wait til you come home.”
“Neither can I.” Macintosh leaned against the wall of the phone box. “Can I talk to Granny?”
“Lemme check.” Applejack quickly responded, practically dropping the phone on the desk and causing Macintosh to recoil from the phone. He could hear Applejack excitedly calling for Granny. Eventually, Applejack came back to the phone. “Sorry, big brother. Granny's a little bit busy at the moment. She's getting some things together, but she says if you call a little later, she'll be free to talk.”
“Alright. I will.” Macintosh said. Not wanting to say goodbye, he just stood there in silence with his little sister on the phone. Neither of them wanted to be the first to say goodbye. Eventually, though, a voice came over the speaker saying “one minute remaining, please deposit two bits.” Mac would need the money for later, so he broke the silence with the first goodbye, and him and his sister hung up the phones. Mac stood there with his hoof still on the box as he could almost feel his connection to the outside world breaking. He solemnly replace his beret on his head and took a deep breath. He then looked up to see Marktime and Splintstitch walking by on the road, and ran to catch up with them.
“Hey, Mac, I didn't see you there. Where were you at?” Marktime asked.
“Just on the phone with my little sister.” Mac replied.
“She cute?” Marktime joked.
Playfully slapping Marktime on the back of the head, Mac replied, “She's almost half your age.” They all laughed.
“What did you talk about?” Splintstitch inquired.
“Oh, y'know, stuff.” Mac shrugged. “They really miss me.”
“Oh, man I'm sorry.” Splintstitch said.
“Why?” Macintosh asked, wondering why talking to his family would be a bad thing.”
“Well,” Splintstitch began, “It's always hard hearing that your family misses you. That was the hardest part about college. Did you guys talk about how long it'll be before you come home?”
“Yeah.”
“Bad idea, Mac.” Splintstich shook his head. “It's never a good idea to talk about time, because it can always seem longer than it really is. Some people start counting the days, and it gets to be like water torture.”
“Water torture?” Mac raised an eyebrow.
Marktime began tapping Mac on the forehead. “You get water dropped on your head at specific time intervals, and your left in a quiet room. Eventually you have nothing better to do, so you start counting the time between drops. It can drive you insane.” Marktime stopped tapping.
“If you start counting the days before you go home, either you'll be depressed because it's taking too long, or you might not end up going home when you expected to, and that can be... Well, it can be rough.”
“I see.” Mac nodded. “So, next time I'm on the phone, I'll try to stay away from talking about time.”
“That's a good soldier!” Marktime said in his best impression of Sergeant Fallout, lightening the mood a little bit.
When they got back to the barracks, Reelin was playing solitaire on his bunk. Splintstitch convinced him to deal a hand of Euchre, and they played a few teaching games until everyone knew what they were doing. They got so into the game that they didn't notice it start to get dark outside as they played the hours away. Eventually, a voice came over the loudspeaker, confining everyone to barracks for the night, because it was getting late. Reelin put his cards away and they all got ready for bed.
When lights-out was called, Mac settled into bed for a minute or two before sitting up and hammering his head against the bunk above him, which held Marktime. As he recovered from his impact, his head was reeling. He had completely forgotten to call home again, and might not have another chance to call until next Sunday. There was nothing he could do about it now, he though. So he lay back down, and tried to calm his nerves. He didn't sleep well that night, nor any night all the next week.
Author's Note
I know this one was a little short, but next chapter should be longer and more interesting. Thank you for reading.
“This week will be a little different than the first.” Sergeant Fallout shouted as the cadets got out of bed and dressed. “Since we have managed to weed out some of the weak links, we will be starting some of the more difficult training this week. PT is still going to be frequent, but broken up by Self-Defence and Firearms Training. Any questions?”
“Sergeant!” Topnotch piped up.
“What is it, cadet Topnotch.”
“Sergeant, when will we begin jumping, Sergeant.” Topnotch maintained the stance of attention as he spoke.
“Not until week four!” The Sergeant shouted. “We need to make sure you're all committed before we start letting you morons use the nice toys.”
By now, all of the cadets were smarter about what they ate at breakfast so they wouldn't be sick all day. Mac still sat with his friends from the first week, and still felt really rotten about not calling his family back on that Sunday.
“I'm sure they understand.” Marktime comforted at the table. “They're not going to disown you for not calling back.”
“Yeah, but I don't like to lie.” Mac shook his head.
“You weren't lying, you made a mistake.” Reelin added.
“It sure feels like I was lying.” Mac looked down at his plate.
“Mac, you can always call 'em back next Sunday.” Biggs noted.
“I guess.”
They finished the rest of their lunch in silence. None of them knew what more to say to their big red friend. They didn't want to make things worse either, so they didn't say anything. As they stacked their plates and trays at the door, Mac made a specific mental note to call as soon as he could.
They formed up outside on the road, and the Sergeant ran them to their first Self-Defence class. Their instructor was a short stallion with a scar on one side of his face. Short, meaning really small for a stallion of his age. Most of the cadets stood taller than he did.
“My name is Warrant Officer Cheval, I will be your instructor. Today, I will be teaching you some basic self defence techniques. I may be small, but I guarantee I could take every single one of you.”
Topnotch and his friends couldn't help but laugh. Especially the big one.
“So, you think you can take me on, eh wide-load?” Cheval called to Topnotch's big friend. “Then come on up here and prove it.”
The large stallion came to attention and fell out of the squad. He stood in front of the much smaller stallion, dwarfing him greatly.
“I'll give you the first move.” The instructor said, removing his beret and placing it next to himself. “I suggest you remove yours as well, you don't want to dirty it.”
The large stallion took that as a joke, how would he get it dirty? It wasn't like he was going to get any closer to the ground than he already was. He took his fighting stance and held for a moment, deciding what to do. He decided that he would try to simply tackle the instructor, using his weight to pin him to the ground. When he flung himself forward, however, WO Cheval swung one hoof into the back of the stallion's leg, knocking it out from under him, and rolling him onto his left side, dropping his beret into a puddle of water.
“I told you it would get dirty.” Cheval said.
He then demonstrated some basic and simple moves to learn for defence. After the demonstration, he had each cadet find a partner and work with them, using the moves they just learned in sparring. As each stallion fell out to find a partner, most of them picked friends. However, Topnotch moved quickly and quietly over to Reelin.
“We've got a score to settle.” He said as he moved Reelin over to the sparring area.
Mac paired off with Splintstitch, and Biggs went with Marktime.
“We should stay close to those two.” Mac whispered to Splintstitch. “Just in case things get ugly.” They moved quietly over near to where Reelin and Topnotch stood hoof to hoof.
While Macintosh and Splintstitch were practising the moves that Cheval had taught them, they made sure to keep looking over to where Reelin was. For a while, they kept to doing the moves they had just learned, but it didn't last long. Cheval moved to one side of the area, where one cadet had fallen and hit his head, and Topnotch took his chance.
He wrapped his forelegs around Reelin's neck and rolled him onto the ground.
“Still think you're pretty tough?” Topnotch growled through clenched teeth.
“Shove it!” Reelin hissed as he grabbed Topnotch by the shoulders and rolled him off, planting him on his back, Reelin's hoofs on Topnotch's shoulders. Topnotch did not like that, and got up quickly. By now, Mac and Splintstitch were looking for a way to get in between them without hurting either one. Topnotch took a swing at Reelin, who ducked and swung a hoof at Topnotch's other foreleg that was supporting his entire front half. Topnotch fell flat on his face.
“That's enough, Reelin.” Splintstitch said. “It's over now.”
Reelin looked over and nodded. He then dusted himself off and placed his beret back on his head. Topnotch saw an opening and took it, diving onto Reelin again, this time knocking out Reelin's forelegs and dropping his front end to the ground. Reelin's head hit the ground much harder than Topnotch's had, because of the extra weight.
“Hey!” Mac shouted as he ran up and bucked Topnotch right in the side, knocking the wind out of Topnotch, and Topnotch off of Reelin. The shout got the attention of WO Cheval, who came running over to see what the noise was about.
The first thing he did when he got there was to roll the gasping Topnotch the rest of the way off of Reelin, whom he turned over to get a better look at. Reelin was out cold, and a great many of his teeth had been broken because of the force of the impact. Cheval checked Reelin's breathing and pulse just to be sure before standing up.
“You stupid ass!” He shouted at Topnotch, who was still regaining his breath. Cheval hadn't been like other drill and fitness instructors, he had been calm and quiet until this point. His shouting alerted the rest of the class, and gave the whole room an uneasy feeling. “You could have killed him. Aren't we lucky that you have no idea what you're doing.” Then, looking around, he shouted. “I don't want to see any more crap like this. I want to see everyone who saw anything in my office. Right now! I'll call the medic.”
Macintosh, Splintstitch, and Topnotch waited in the chairs outside of WO Cheval's office. Cheval was on the phone in his office. Topnotch gave Splintstitch and especially Macintosh an evil look. They could see lights of an ambulance shining outside as they hurried Reelin to the MIR. Cheval hung up and dialled another number. They could hear his voice become even more serious, if that was possible, as he talked in the second call. The ambulance lights faded into the distance and Cheval hung up the phone. An eerie silence fell over the room as they heard hoof steps coming close to the door of the office. The door swung open and Cheval stepped out.
“The matter is now out of my hands.” He solemnly said. “You are to go see the Commanding Officer. I'll lead the way.”
Cheval opened the front door and allowd the rest of the cadets to lead the way out, after which he took the lead and marched them across the field they had just been sparring on. Stallion's gaped as the four of them walked towards the CO's office. Mac knew he had done nothing wrong, he had helped. But he felt as if he had been the one who had knocked Reelin on his face, the way the other cadets were looking at him.
They filed into the office and took their seats again as Cheval went into the CO's office. The CO was only in charge of this Company. More serious problems would have been taken to the Battalion Commander. They sat in the same depressed silence as they could hear the low voices of Cheval and the CO talking through the door. Finally, Cheval came out of the office and pointed to Macintosh.
“You. In there. Now.” Cheval held the door for him and closed it behind him.
Macintosh stood awkwardly in the doorway, staring at the back of the CO's chair. For what seemed like an eternity he stood, waiting for the Commanding Officer to say something. Finally the chair swung around to reveal a tan coloured Pegasus in a green jacket holding a report in his hooves.
“Please, Private Macintosh, have a seat.” he motioned to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. The room was dimly lit, and seemed like it was made to be imposing and uncomfortable. Much like a principal's office at school. “So, I hear you were the one who broke up the fight.”
“Yes, sir.” Mac nodded.
“Would you like to give me your side of the story?” The CO said. “Any information you can give me about the goings-on of my Company would be appreciated.”
Macintosh thought for a moment. “Well, sir, Topnotch and Reelin have been at odds since day one. I suppose today they assumed that they could get away with settling their differences. But, I guess it got a little out of hand.”
“I see.” The CO wrote on the report. “So, who started it?”
“The whole problem between them? Or the fight today, sir?” Macintosh asked.
“Both.” The CO nodded.
“Well, It started when Topnotch insulted another cadet, sir. Today... Well, I suppose that was Topnotch too. He chose Reelin as his sparring partner, and he started getting out of hand when the WO wasn't looking, sir.”
“I see.” He wrote more in his notes, forcefully applying the last period for effect. “Let me explain something.” Macintosh could feel a stream of insults and anger coming from those last words and braced himself. “What you did today was very good of you.”
Macintosh was a little surprised. “Sir?”
“You broke up something that could have ended a lot worse.” The CO explained. “Now, I am not sure of how things here are supposed to be handled, I only got stationed here because I'm a new officer and this is supposedly a training Company. I'm still hazy on the rules here. Normally, a cadet hitting another cadet would be grounds for an investigation and maybe a court martial. However, you may have saved that other cadet's life. So, instead of reprimanding you, I will commend you on your work. However, in future, report these events to an officer instead of taking matters into your own hands.”
“Yes, sir.” Macintosh smiled lightly.
“Good. Now, have a good day, and send in this Private Topnotch. I think he could use an attitude adjustment.”
Author's Note
I know I am taking a while to get back to the action, but I think it'll all be worth it in the long run. I have a bit of a shameless self-insert in this chapter. See if you can spot it.
It was the following Sunday, and Mac finally felt some relief. He could finally call back Granny and Applejack. The first thing he would do is tell them how sorry he was that he had neglected to call back the previous week.
Topnotch had definitely come down off his high horse. He no longer harassed the other cadets and kept more to himself than before. Macintosh almost felt sorry for him, and considered talking to him at some point. But, what was important at the moment was calling home and he still had a few weeks to help Topnotch get over himself. Reelin had been in the MIR for a few days while they treated the various injuries. It had only been one blow, but it had done a fair amount of damage. The doctors had had to mold him a few new teeth, as well as o a few x-rays to be sure that the jaw hadn't been fractured. Thankfully, it wasn't, and Reelin was told he could rejoin the rest of the squad very soon. All in all, the fight had only created a set back, and a much needed release of aggression between the two stallions.
Macintosh stood at the same payphone he had used one week ago and tossed the bits he had intended to use last time into the coin slot. He dialled the number and listened to the ringing. Once. Twice. Three times. Four... Five. Suddenly, he heard some movement on the other end.
“Hello.” Granny said.
“Hey, Granny, It's Big Mac!” Mac eagerly responded. “Boy am I-”
“I'm afraid we at Sweet Apple Acres aren't available at the moment. If you could leave a message with your name and number, it would be mighty appreciated.” The recorded message ended with a beep, signalling the answering machine was ready to record. Macintosh was disappointed to hear the recording, and a little embarrassed that he hadn't recognized the recording. Getting over his depression, he stated a message.
“Hey, Granny. It's Big Mac. Just thought I'd call because I had the day off. I'm really sorry I didn't get back to you guys last Sunday, and I'll try calling later today.” He then hung up the telephone and turned back to the barracks, allowing the few bits of change to fall idly into the coin return.
Big Mac walked back to the barracks and opened his footlocker. Inside, he had a calendar taped to the lid. He scraped off the current Sunday.
“Two down... Four to go...” He muttered to himself. He quickly shut the lid as Splintstitch and Marktime came into the barracks. He didn't want his friends to know that he had given in and started counting the days. He pretended that he had just taken his beret out of the locker and adjusted it on his head, hoping that his friends would not ask questions.
“Turns out Reelin will be getting out of MIR today.” Splintstitch announced.
“That's good news, when can we see him?” Mac responded, turning to his friend.
“Actually. About a half hour.” Marktime grinned. “He just needs to collect his things.”
“Are we gonna go see him?” Mac asked, closing the padlock on his barrack box.
“Why not.” Splintstitch shrugged.
The three of them went to find Biggs to tell him the good news about Reelin, and they all decided that they would go see their comrade as soon as he was out of MIR. It wasn't that far of a walk, so they decided to play a few hands of Euchre before walking over. Splintstitch dealt, and somehow managed to win two hands before Biggs decided to change things up.
“I'm not cheating, I'm just good at this game.” Splintstitch said innocently.
“Sure, let's see how good you are when someone else deals.” Biggs shook his head and took the cards.
Miraculously, Splintstitch managed to work some of his 'unicorn magic', or so he called it and won another hand. Biggs all but gave up after that. Regardless, it was time for them to head out and meet with Reelin. The cards were quickly packed up and the four stallions filed out of the barracks down the dusty road to the MIR.
Reelin was just stepping out of the front door when he saw his four friends coming up the road. He fixed his jacket and put his beret on as the door closed behind him. When the five met up, they made a special effort not to say anything about the fight or Reelin's teeth.
As they all chatted on the way back to the barracks, it was apparent that Reelin either wasn't used to his new teeth, or he was still under some of the effects of the anaesthetic because he had a bit of a lisp. None of them mentioned it though, and just accepted that it might be permanent.
As they were on the way back to the barracks, Macintosh caught sight of the payphones and excused himself from his friends to try another phone call home. He rummaged in his pocket for some change, and only found a couple of bits, just enough for a call. Throwing them into the coin slot, Mac dialled the familiar number once again and picked up the receiver to listen to the ringing. Once. Twice.
“Hello?” It was Applejack again.
“Hey there, short-stack.” Mac smiled more than he had all day making jokes with his friends.
“Big Mac!” Applejack sounded overjoyed. “How are you?”
“I'm just fine.” Mac nodded, though he knew she couldn't see it. “Hey. I hate to sound anti-social, but is Granny available?”
“Umm... Lemme check.” Applejack said, dropping the phone on the desk again. He really needed to tell her to stop doing that. The sounds of excited calling on the other end were unmistakable. Ages passed before the phone on the other end was jostled and raised to a mouth.
“Hello? Macintosh?” It was Granny, finally.
“Hey Granny, I am so glad I got a hold of you two. How have you been?” Mac felt relieved to finally get to say those words.
“Things over here are just fine. How's my big, strong Soldier boy?” Granny joked.
“I'm doing just fine over here.”
“They feeding you alright?”
“I can't complain.” Big Mac said, thinking about the rations that he had been eating for the last two weeks, and he was getting used to them.
“Any problems?”
“Well, none that I couldn't handle.”
“That's good to hear. Made any new friends?”
“Yes Granny. Why the third degree?”
“I just worry about you. I want to be sure that your doing all right.”
“Well, everything is just fine over here.”
They had a long chat-well, as long as they could on a couple of bits. Eventually, they had to say goodbye and Macintosh hung up the telephone. He felt satisfied that he had finally gotten a chance to talk to Granny. Mac decided to check the coin return out of habit, and found his bits from before still sitting there.
“I'll use them next Sunday.” Macintosh vowed as he dropped the few bits into his pocket and patted it to be sure they had all made it to their target. He walked back to the barracks contented and looking towards a bright future. Macintosh spent the rest of the night playing cards with his friends until lights-out was called, and slept well for the first time that week.
Author's Note
I thought this chapter would do well to tie up some loose ends. I hope I can get to righting some of the more action filled chapters soon. Until then, I hope that you won't hesitate to send me some feedback, provided it is kept polite and specific.
It was the first day of the fourth week; the week they were supposed to begin jumping. Mac had called Granny and Applejack the night before to tell them how excited he was about doing his first jump. They met his comments with pride and admiration. No one in the barracks had slept well that night, they were all too excited about putting on their parachutes for the first time. They had gone over the basic theory of parachuting, how to jump, how to land. They were going to be performing a static-line jump; meaning that they only had to jump out of the rear hatch of the plane, and the parachute would fall behind them. They were to jump in order with specific timings they had practised as well. During the firearms training, Macintosh had shot a perfect score on one board, which had gotten him the nickname “Mac-Gun” after the mounted machine guns on some of the aircraft. Mac took pride in the nickname, it made him feel accepted by his fellow soldiers.
It was early in the morning and they all stood on the airfield in their combats and berets. They were issued extra kit to use for their jump: A helmet to wear over the beret, goggles, gloves, and their harnesses. The wind was low that day, and the now disciplined stallions were all standing in a straight rank to one side of the runway. Sergeant Fallout stood in his gear, awaiting the arrival of the aircraft they would be jumping from. He handed out headsets to each of the cadets, now numbering fewer than the previous weeks due to injury or resignation. Macintosh still remained, as did Splintstitch, Marktime, Biggs and Reelin, even Topnotch was still among them. They adjusted their radios to the proper frequency and awaited further instructions.
After standing excitedly for over twenty minutes, a transmission came over the radio. “Sergeant Fallout, this is Lieutenant Wing. Over.”
Sergeant Fallout pressed a button on his headset and responded. “Lieutenant Wing, his is Sergeant Fallout. Go ahead. Over.”
“Sergeant Fallout, we are en route to your location at this very moment. We should be there in One-Zero Minutes. Lieutenant Wing Out.”
Sergeant Fallout now turned to the stallions standing by. “You all hear that?” he called out.
“Yes, Sergeant!” The cadets called.
“If you did not, tell me now.” He paused, waiting for anyone whose radio might not be working. When no complaints came, he continued. “Good. Now, I have a point to raise that I should have sooner. When we are in the field, you will not use rank or name. We are considered very desirable hostages and prisoners in combat situations. The use of rank in the field is prohibited, as it will be during these training runs. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
“You all just got me killed!” Sergeant Fallout shouted. “What did I just say about using rank? In the event that confirmation is needed, there will be no “yes, sir” or “no, sir”. In the Airborne unit, we prefer to keep our confirmations simple and quiet. You will instead answer “Yup” or “Nope”.”
There were a few uncontrolled snickers from the squad. To them it sounded kind of silly to use such colloquial terms.
“I don't want to hear laughter, this could save lives, and not necessarily your own sorry wastes of lives.” The Sergeant Shouted. “Do I make my self clear?”
“Yup!”
“Good. There actually is a scientific explanation as to why we use these terms. S's make a very distinct sound, which is very easy to hear. With the removal of S's from the words we use in the field, we can communicate on a quieter scale.” The Sergeant explained. “Is that clear?”
“Yup!”
At that, and as if on cue, they could hear propellers approaching from behind. None of them looked up because they were at attention, but none could mistake the sound of an air plane. For one second, the sun was blacked out as the monstrous aircraft screamed overhead. Most in the squad could not help but watch as the metal bird did a few clearing turns and came in for a landing. The power still on, the rear hatch opened up and the beige Pegasus Macintosh recognized as the CO stepped out to flag them over. The Sergeant shouted the command to run over the radio, and all of the stallions followed him towards the craft.
As he boarded, Macintosh caught the CO's eye, who offered him a nod of acknowledgement. The engine was still screaming, but not nearly as loud as before. Mac found a seat along one side of the aircraft and took a seat. They followed procedure as they had practised, the rear hatch closed, and the aircraft powered up and took off.
As they were on their ascent, a voice came over their headsets.
“For those of you who do not know me, my name is Lieutenant Wing. I am and have been your CO since you joined up in this Company. You have all come a long way since day one, and are a few jumps away from receiving your wings. I guarantee some of you are scared right now. I want you to know that it is normal, and you will get over it in time. I wish you the best of luck today, and I look forward to seeing you all fling yourselves out of the back of this perfectly good aircraft.”
The line went dead and the flight returned to silence. For the rest of the ascent, the excitement that had been building seemed to dwindle slightly. Some of the stallions who had seemed so pumped to jump for the first time, seemed more scared of it now. Mac didn't feel the fear they felt, his excitement was still at it's peak. He couldn't wait to feel the wind in his mane as he floated to the ground.
Finally, a red light came on and the squad gathered at the back of the aircraft. The rear hatch opened and they stared out over the trees and sky that lay before and below them. The trees gave way to a clean-cut green field and the light in the aircraft changed to match the green below them.
“GO!” Sergeant Fallout shouted and the first stallion jumped out of the plane. Out of pure habit and indoctrination, all of the others followed close behind in the timings they had practised. Macintosh's heart was racing as he neared the front of the line. When he was at the front he charged out of the rear of the aircraft and into the great unknown.
It was better than he had imagined. The ground raced towards him for only a moment or two, until the parachute unfurled and ballooned above him. He could hear only his own breathing and the wind rushing by. Macintosh's eyes were as big as saucers, not from fear, but from the awe of the moment.
“If only Granny and Applejack could see me now.” Mac said to no one at all. The scenery was like something out of a movie he had seen once. One of the shots that encompassed the scenery and gave the viewer a feeling of just how big the world they lived in was.
The fall could have gone on forever and Macintosh would not have cared. Unfortunately he could see the ground getting close, and braced himself for impact. Despite popular belief, the landing wasn't as graceful as they would think. Macintosh did everything he had been taught to prepare for touch down, and it still felt like he had just jumped off the roof of the house at Sweet Apple Acres.
When he touched the ground, he removed his headset to get some fresh air, and could hear excited shouts of triumph from others who had just finished their jumps. Macintosh joined in the celebration, shouting and hoof bumping his comrades as they revelled in the adrenaline of the jump.
A bus came to collect them after their jump, and for the whole ride back to the base, the bus was filled with laughter, jokes, and singing from the stallions on board. Despite the joyous feel of the bus ride, Macintosh could feel himself getting increasingly tired, and decided to sleep for most of the ride back to the base.
Author's Note
And thus, we have another chapter in. The next couple of chapters is where it should start to pick up, and we really will hear about the problems and causes of the war.
“You have no idea how much fun it was.” Macintosh excitedly jabbered into the phone. “It was-I dunno. Liberating? Is that a good word?”
“We're so proud of you Big Mac!” Applejack shouted over Granny's shoulder so Macintosh could hear her.
“I wish you could be here.” Mac sighed into the phone.
The last two weeks passed like lightning, except for the other jumps Mac performed. He could remember events here and there, but most of the last two weeks were a blur. His friends had been there for him, and he had been there for them. They had completed their mandatory number of jumps and were now ready to graduated.
So there they stood. On the parade square. Those who were left at the end of the training course were there to receive their wings. They all stood in a straight rank, with Lieutenant Wing as their parade commander. It wasn't just Mac's squad there, the rest of the squads in the Company who had finished their training stood with them. The room was dead silent, except for the quiet congratulations offered by the CO as he pinned the para-wings on the new troops. The parade would have been boring to watch, but to those involved in it, it was one of the most exciting days of their lives. Macintosh could hardly contain himself as Lieutenant Wing came nearer. This was it, the reason he spent so long on this base. He had done so much, seen so much. He had made new friends, had new experiences, learned new things. All of it culminated in this.
After what seemed like an eternity, Lieutenant Wing had come to him. Macintosh saluted and received his wings from the CO.
“Great job, Private Macintosh.” Wing smiled as he pinned the wings to the red stallion's chest. “You've earned this.”
With that, Lieutenant Wing moved on to the next recipient. Macintosh had a burning pride in his chest. He had deserved those wings. He had worked hard for those wings. They were his now, and he could go on to do so many good things with them.
Though the parade had dragged on through speeches and had lasted nearly an hour and a half, Macintosh still felt as proud as he had when he had received the wings. He congratulated his friends, and even some stallion's he did not even recognize. Macintosh was just about to leave the parade hall with his friends to celebrate, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“Big Mac!”
Macintosh turned to see his little sister charging over towards him. She leaped into him in a warm embrace and held on tight. She was just like he remembered her back when he left for camp. He didn't know what he had expected, but she hadn't changed a bit. She finally broke the embrace and wiped a tear from her eye.
“I am so happy to see you, big bro.” Applejack sniffed.
“I am so happy to see you too, short-stack.” Macintosh gave her a pat on the head. “Where's Granny? You're not here by yourself, are you?”
“No, she's here, just talking to some of the other parents and families.” Applejack smiled. “She said I should surprise you.”
“I am.” Big Mac almost felt a tear come to his eye. “I am so surprised.”
They hugged again as Mac could hear someone coming over towards him.
“How's my soldier boy?” It was Granny, and Mac had to fight not to shed a tear of joy. He didn't want the other guys calling him a sissy. Taking one hoof off of Applejack, he reached around to hug Granny too. Nothing could ruin this perfect day.
Macintosh told his friends to head on back to base without him. He decided that he would sign out and go for a nice hot meal with his family. He brought them to one of his favourite local restaurants, he had only been there a couple of times, but the food was great. As he was leaving base, he heard the familiar sounds of an announcement coming over the loudspeaker. For the first time in weeks, he could safely pay it no mind. His course was over, and soon he would be no doubt assigned to a military base near home. He had specifically requested it, and the CO said he would do his best to make it happen.
The three farming ponies walked into the small restaurant. It wasn't much to look at, almost a mix of a sports bar and a burger joint. Applejack was sold on the idea of eating there as soon as she saw that they had some memorabilia from a rodeo. Macintosh offered to pay for the meal, but Granny would have none of it, and insisted that she pay. It was a farmer thing. They enjoyed their meal, and Macintosh never stopped smiling through the whole thing.
As they were joking and having a good time, a breaking news bulletin came on one of the many televisions stationed around the restaurant. Everyone in the restaurant stopped talking and tuned in. One of the waitresses turned up the volume. There was no newscaster on screen, simply the words breaking news and a narration.
“This just in! Just to the east of Equestria, the civil unrest in northeastern Equestria has exploded into an all-out war! The terrorists known as “Shades of Grey”, a group originally from the Zebra Republic, have taken the city of Furlin, which borders with the Zebra Republic. It has been proven that these terrorists are not what they seem. They are, in fact, members of the elite Republican Armed Forces, and are working under orders from the latest dictator of the republic, General Koren. Ever since this dictator took hold of the once peaceful country, Zebras have been stampeding into Equestria to escape the malevolence of this madman. Already, the Equestrian military is mobilizing to defend it's borders and, if necessary, invade the Zebra Republic.”
At that, the room went dead quiet. After a moment of silence as the patrons took in what they had just heard, the conversations in the room started once again. Macintosh sat in silence, contemplating what this might mean. He had joined to defend his country from all of the civil unrest, but never expected that it would go so far. Macintosh pulled out his wallet and removed a little more than the bill would be and dropped it on the table. He stood up and looked Granny in the eyes.
“I should probably go.” He said solemnly.
“Can't you stay to finish?” Applejack asked, looking innocently at the half eaten plate of food Macintosh had been eating from.
“If I have to move out soon, I should probably start packing.” Macintosh sighed. “I am so sorry. Granny, Applejack. I'll see you guys around.”
He gave them both a quick hug and started out the door, running back to the base to hear if they had to move out. His heart was racing, but not in the way it had been the first time he had jumped. This time it was pure fear. There was no doubt about it. Big “Mac-Gun” Macintosh, was scared.
He tore through the gates, not even having his ID checked by the guard, who recognized him immediately. Macintosh had no time to stop, he needed to hear if they had to move out or not. Crashing through the door of the barracks, he found his friends stripping their beds and packing up their duffel bags. Macintosh stood silently for a moment before asking the dreaded question.
“Are we going?”
“I'm afraid so, Mac.” Biggs nodded, tossing his bag over one shoulder.
“We thought you knew.” Splintstitch said. “The announcement came over the loudspeaker not soon after we left the Wings ceremony.”
“Celestia help us all.” Marktime added. He looked the worst out of all of them. If Macintosh had been as white as a sheet, Marktime would have been like a bleached sheet in a snowstorm.
Without another word, Mac made his way over to his barrack box and began sorting his things into his duffel bag. As he did, the calendar he had been counting on fell out and drifted across the floor over to Splintstitch's feet.
“What's this?” He asked, picking it up. His face got very serious as he read over what the page was.
No longer caring what they thought of him, man or not, Macintosh let a few tears idly fall from his eye as he looked over to his friend. “I was going home tomorrow.”
“Mac.” Reelin shook his head. “You shouldn't have been keeping track, we warned you.”
“I know, and it was stupid.” Macintosh shouted, kicking his barrack box.
The room fell as silent as the restaurant had been. They all felt the way Mac did, disappointed, kind of betrayed. They had all been expecting to go home the next day, but they were going further away from their families than they had ever before. They all finished packing and waited for further instruction. The other new soldiers had returned to the barracks and had packed their things as well.
The sun had set, and the door to the barracks swung open. Lieutenant Wing stepped in to the barracks, his parade boots clicking on the tile floor. He was still in his dress green uniform from before, like everyone else. His mane was a mess, obviously having been stressing about the upcoming mission.
“You guys are the last of them.” He shook his head and looked at them. “The last bus will be here within the hour, and we'll be heading to a base close to Furlin.”
“Aren't they just going to station us there?” A Private on one side of the barracks asked. “This is a training Company, after all.”
“Not any more.” Lieutenant Wing shook his head again. “We're now 761 Airborne Company. I'm your Commanding Officer.” As he said the last words, he removed his green forage cap and replaced it with a red beret, matching the rest of the soldiers in the room.
For a moment, the room seemed more depressed. Until, at last, someone broke the silence by applauding. The room all began to applaud. Some for their CO, some for their Company, and some for the honour of first combat. Macintosh applauded because it raised his spirit, and the fact that him and his comrades were all now officially part of a real Company, 761. The clapping continued until someone started chanting “7-6-1” over and over again at a marching cadence. Eventually, the room changed from applause to a moral boosting shout for 761. The entire barracks sounded like a rock concert, with every stallion shouting in their drill voices for their CO and their Unit.
Now, Macintosh looked to his friends, his allies. They all chanted with him, and they all felt the pride he did. Macintosh no longer felt sad that he would be leaving, he felt as proud as he had that morning.
When the bus pulled up, the room was still chanting, simply throwing their kit over one shoulder and running out to get on the bus. Lieutenant Wing was the last one on the bus, ensuring that the barracks was vacant. Macintosh sat with his friends, eventually dozing off as the bus rolled towards their new adventure.
Author's Note
And so it begins, the adventure of a lifetime. I can't wait to start writing the exciting bits. Any feedback would be much appreciated.
It was warm, bright, and yet cold. Private Macintosh had to practically force his eyes open. The sun had been beating on his eyelids, making it uncomfortable to keep his eyes closed. Rapidly blinking, Macintosh attempted to focus on anything he could, but the landscape was barren and flat. He took a deep breath and rolled hid head off of the cool glass window and tried to find someone. Someone he could ask about how long they had been driving, and how much longer they would be. Unfortunately, it seemed as if everybody had dozed off as well, and Mac was alone on the bus. He rubbed his face to shake the sleepy feeling as he settled back in for the rest of the ride. There was no way he would be able to get back to sleep, so he might as well enjoy the peace and quiet.
Outside, the ground was barren. There was nothing but plain grass and weeds for as far as the eye could see. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, so the hot sun shone through, only hindered by the dirt on the outside of the bus window. He combed a hoof through his mane and watched what little scenery there was roll by.
Mac jostled the private sitting next to him as they pulled through the gate at base Furlin. The only differences in scenery were the barbed wire fences and various barracks strewn about the horizon. The bus stopped at the gate to sign in, and the troops on the bus started coming to. After a short stop, the bus rolled ahead until it came to a paved parade square. Lieutenant Wing called the squad out of the bus, and had them form up on the parade square. They were then met by an officer stationed at base Furlin. The officer took a minute to talk to Lieutenant Wing before allowing him to address the squad.
“As it turns out,” Wing began, “because of recent events, base Furlin is short staffed on Non-Commissioned Officers. That fact in mind, some of you will be receiving a promotion in the coming week to make up for the lack. This will depend on your academy record and service thus far. As for now, I'll be walking you to your new barracks. The rest of the Company is already here.”
The Lieutenant called the squad to attention and marched them over to their new barracks to unload. It was the first time they had marched from one location to another on a military base since the beginning of training. Running had been their only mode of transportation until that point.
The new barracks looked exactly the same as the old one. The same tile floor,the same silver barrack boxes, and the same metal beds. Lieutenant Wing had an office at one end of the barracks, and began moving files and folders into it. Macintosh just dropped his duffel bag into the new box and slapped a padlock on it.
“Home, sweet home.” Reelin joked, still with a slight lisp.
“I shot the top bunk.” Splintstitch called out, throwing his bag on the top bunk of the bed Macintosh had chosen. After his bag had stopped bouncing, Splintstitch hopped on after it.
Reelin took the top bunk across from Splintstitch and Macintosh, and Marktime took the lower bunk. Biggs took the bottom bunk of the bed next to them. Before any of them had even unpacked, Marktime took out his deck of cards and dealt a game of President, so all five of them could get in on it. For the next hour or so, the room was filled with all of the troops moving in and getting settled. The sounds of stallions playing cards, laughing, singing and shouting could be heard in the next barracks over.
Lieutenant Wing stepped out of his office just as Reelin shouted, “Looks like I win this round!”
The room fell awkwardly quiet at that point, causing Reelin to blush slightly in embarrassment. Everyone looked on to Lieutenant Wing who carried a clipboard with a list of names and a large envelope. He directed them out on to the parade square where he had them form up, and took his place in front of the squad.
Reading off of the clipboard, Lieutenant Wing began. “Will the following Privates please fall out and come to the front.”
Macintosh hardly paid attention to the list of names because he was a little tired from the bus ride over. He had slept, but it was not a very restful sleep. It was the kind of sleep where he was still slightly conscious. He had never been very good at sleeping on any kind of long trip.
“-and Private Macintosh.” Wing finished.
Macintosh, out of pure habit, came to attention and called out “Sir!”. He marched up to the front and fell in with the rest of the stallions called up, including Splintstitch. There were five others. They all saluted at once and waited to hear what this was all about. He reached into the envelope and pulled something out, Macintosh couldn't tell what it was without looking at it.
The Lieutenant handed whatever it was to the first Private with a congratulatory hoofshake. He moved over to the next stallion, and the next, until he came to Macintosh. Now he knew what it was all about. In the Lieutenant's hoof was a pair of chevrons with a crown on top.
“Congratulations, Master Corporal Macintosh. You've earned this.” He smiled as he handed over the new rank. Macintosh accepted it as well as the hoofshake to follow it.
This was almost too much for the Master Corporal. Only the day before he had received his jump wings, and now a double promotion. He hardly heard the rest of his comrades clapping for him and the others promoted. Splintstitch had received a promotion to Corporal. They all saluted and fell back into the squad.
“From now on, those promoted will be the first and second in command of each squad.” The Lieutenant stated, looking over the crowd. “I had to make the choice quick, but I hope I made it correctly. Do not make me regret promoting you. Dismissed.”
As they finished their dismissal, the promoted stallions were offered hoofshakes from those in their squads. They quickly returned to the barracks' they now called home. Macintosh wanted so much to call Granny and tell her the good news, but was too concerned with sewing his rank on to his uniform. Splintstitch offered to sew it for him, seeing as he was a medic and a unicorn. But M Cpl. Macintosh said no because he felt it wouldn't be right for a squad commander make his second in command do his sewing for him. He did it himself, though it wasn't perfect.
For the next few weeks, the stallions continued drills and training under the command of their CO and the new squad commanders. Topnotch was sore that he hadn't been promoted, though he didn't say it out loud. He kept his aggression bottled up. The marches were replaced with running again, so they would stay in shape. It was almost as if they had never left training. The days were boring and droning, until that warm day near the end of summer. The slow transition to fall had already begun and there were hints in the air. The trees had not begun to turn yet, but there was a chill in the air. It was light, but unmistakable. The troops had been there only few weeks, and there they stood. Like on the day they had arrived, they stood silently on the parade square, the entire 761 Airborne. Lieutenant CogWing stood as he so often had, before them with a clipboard in his hooves. He was preparing to give an announcement.
“Gentlemen.” He cleared his throat. “I am here to inform you that I have received out first mission orders.” He paused. “We are moving out for our first mission tomorrow night. Under cover of darkness and by the light of the full moon, we are to drop into the Zebra Republic. It has come to the military's attention that Koren will not surrender for anything less than the storming of his capital. So, our mission is to drop to a small village a few miles away from the capital and make our way from there. The heavy anti-air guns in the capital make it nearly impossible to mount an airdrop there. Hopefully, with your training and no small amount of luck, we will reach the capital and General Koren within a week from tomorrow, and will be able to finish this war before it really gets rolling.” Lieutenant Wing removed his beret. “I will not be able to accompany you. However, there are some Airborne officers that will be dropping in with you. You will have their experience and expertise to rely on. I hope... I pray... That you will all return to Equestria within a few weeks.” He replaced his beret on his head and saluted the squads formed up before him. “Thank you for your service. Give 'em hell 761!”
The parade square erupted into cheers and shouts and the troops chanting “761” to the cadence they had the night before. This was it, they were going to make their mark on the world, and in history. They moved out tomorrow, and if they returned, they would not be the same ever again. They set out to make the world a better place, and defend their homeland. Macintosh wasn't sure he was ready. He had done all of his training, and done it well. But this was war. He had to lead the stallions behind him into open combat, not knowing if he or any of them would even come back. But the cheers and chanting gave him hope. It gave him courage. If these stallions were going to go feet first into Hell, than he would go along with them. He was no coward. He was no sellout. He was a proud Soldier of 761 Airborne Company, and he would prove it.
That night in the barracks, he found it hard to sleep, like he had when he had forgotten to call Granny and Applejack back on the first Sunday of training. However, this time, it was more than that. He decided that he would call them in the morning to tell them where he was going, and why. He would have called that day, but he needed to find the words. He didn't just want to pick up the phone and say “Hey Granny, I'm going to war tomorrow.” Macintosh needed to be delicate. He needed to say it correctly. Macintosh spent most of the night running through several possible phone calls home, how they would go. Would they be happy? Proud? Surprised? Scared? Would they cry?
There were too many variables, and he could hardly think straight by about midnight. He knew no one else would be sleeping, but he didn't want to talk to anyone in case some of them could sleep. He finally dozed off with worry and fear on his mind, and it didn't sit well.
There he was, dropping feet first into the unknown country. He heard gunshots already in the distance as the local police force noticed the great flying machines overhead. It was just like in the propaganda films, the Zebras were savages. Teeth bared, guns blazing, eyes red as fire, they came charging into the field where 761 dropped like flies. To the Zebras, it was like shooting fish in a barrel since the parachutists couldn't fire back. It was too difficult for them to aim while still having to attempt to control where they fell. Macintosh heard gunshots closer now as he neared the ground. He could already see where stallions had hit the ground and met with their grim fate all at once.
Mac tucked and rolled onto the ground and unhooked his harness from his parachute. As soon as he was free, he took out his pistol and began to defend the other parachutists above him. But there were so many of them. The Zebras were like ants, swarming out of anywhere and everywhere. He saw one in the distance charging at him. The distance closed in what seemed like seconds, and Mac failed to land a single shot on the monochromatic creature.
The Zebra tackled him to the ground, knocking his gun away and holding a knife to his throat. Macintosh felt true fear at that point.
“How's your sister doing?” The Zebra hissed through clenched teeth. “And Granny?”
Macintosh felt more scared than he had before and just as the knife was closing in on his neck-
“Help!” Macintosh shouted as he sat up in bed. He was so startled that he hit his head off of the bunk above him and fell back, cradling his head in his hooves. No harm done, he looked around him. The room was still and quiet as the sun was seen just peaking over the horizon and illuminating the windows.
As he pulled his shaking hooves off of his head, he assessed the situation. Only a dream? It was so realistic, he thought. His heart pounded in his chest and his mane was soaked in sweat.
“Just a dream.” Macintosh told himself as he turned over and lay still. “Just a dream.”
Author's Note
Well, that was a long one. A lot happened, but I think it flows alright. If there are any comments or questions, please ask.
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:
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.
Macintosh snapped awake. He did not want to fall asleep. Not here. Not in enemy territory, under the eye of his enemy. Looking around, Mac realized what a mistake he had made. He had been out all night, and the sun was just peaking over the horizon. Macintosh took less than a second to barrel over to where Marktime still lay. Zecora was no where to be seen, which made Mac feel safe and uneasy at the same time. Marktime was asleep. His jacket was open to reveal the wound that he had received the night before. Zecora had applied a bandage over the area, with some herbs pressed to the wound. Macintosh did not recognize the herbs, but did not question them, they seemed to be helping Marktime greatly. His face had returned to its natural colour, and his breath was slow and even. Sitting down next to Marktime and removing his helmet, Macintosh spoke, knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to hear it.
“I'm sorry.” Macintosh whispered. “I didn't know something like this would happen. I thought... I hoped we could all make it out of here alright. This is... It's all... It's my fault. Why couldn't I be a better leader? I thought this would be an easy mission, and we would be home in a week.” Macintosh wiped his face with his hoof. “Now one man is dead. You've been shot. And the other four are prisoners. The rest of the Company might not even know that we're here.”
“It's not your fault, Mac.” Marktime whispered back, barely opening his eyes.
“You heard all that?” Macintosh was a little embarrassed.
“I was shot in the stomach, not in the head.” Marktime weakly laughed. “It really isn't your fault. You weren't ready for this. We never had any real combat experience, and we were sent out here on our own.”
Macintosh took a deep breath, still not willing to forgive himself. He looked weakly down at his injured friend. “You should get your rest. I'm not sure how long it'll take for you to get better.” Macintosh said.
“Sounds good to me.” Marktime nodded slightly. “I need to get better... I need...” He didn't finish his last thought as he drifted back to sleep.
Macintosh kept a watchful eye on his friend. Eventually looking around to get a feel for his surroundings. He was startled to see Zecora standing in the doorway. She had mud on her hooves and a bag tossed over one shoulder.
“Where were you?” Macintosh asked, noting the mud on her hooves.
“I did not want to draw the attention of the soldiers you dread, so I took the liberty of burying your dead.” Zecora solemnly stated. She walked over to Macintosh and handed him the tear-away dog tag from the dead stallion who had previously lay on the street. “He deserved a proper burial. But I had to make do with a quick funeral. I am sorry he was lost, he paid the ultimate cost.”
“Thank you.” Macintosh replied. “If you don't mind my asking, why are you helping us?”
Zecora put down her bag and took a seat next to Mac. She looked at him with a note of depression in her eyes. Opening the bag, Zecora pulled out some different herbs to use for medicine, as well as some tools to prepare them. When she was prepared, she looked back at Macintosh.
“I was a Doctor before all this exploded. I pulled all-nighter's at work, I was very devoted.” She began, her voice low and emotional. “I found new remedies in all kinds of places, and I travelled around, healing all kinds of races.” At that, Zecora took up a mortar and pestle and began to crush up one of the plants she had collected. “We were peaceful and happy, until Koren came along. His election to office was a decision made wrong. We trusted him to make out home great. All his decisions just settled our fate. He decided that Zebras were the best in the world. And soon, into war we were all violently hurled. He told us to leave, I decided to stay. So that is why I am here today. I don't want to fight to take over land. But if someone needs help, I will do what I can.”
“But why us?” Macintosh asked, looking back at Zecora. “Why not the Zebra Army?”
“I help whoever needs it worse.” Zecora smiled. “And it looked like you needed a nurse.”
“Thank you very much.” Mac smiled back. “I'll never forget your kindness.”
“Not all Zebras are evil, like your films make you believe. Those films are for fear, made just to deceive.” Zecora explained. “Koren is the one causing all of the fuss. This land you fight against, he stole it from us. We want this war over as much as you do. And to bring a quick end, I will help even you. You fight for your homeland, and you're doing fine.” She broke eye contact with Mac and looked over to Marktime. “You fight in your way, and I fight in mine.”
“So you don't support Koren?” Mac tried to understand. “But you will not fight because you're a pacifist. You still want the war over, but you support both sides?”
“I do not support the soldiers or the armies who fight. I support the ones in the uniforms, to show them the light.” Zecora replied. “Affiliation makes no difference to me. What matters is that they fight in the hope's they'll be free.”
Macintosh finally understood. Zecora wanted this war over just as much as he did. She helped everyone in the hopes that they would see that everyone is equal and deserves to be free. She didn't care about borders. What she cared about was getting her country back from Koren, and things going back to the way they were before.
“If only there were more like you.” Macintosh said.
“If only there were more like you.” Zecora smiled.
“How do you mean?” Macintosh asked. “I've done nothing so noble as to save a life. In fact, I almost took yours just last night.”
“But you didn't shoot me, as many would have rushed. You spared me my life, which took so much trust.” Zecora countered. “There are those on both sides, who do not hesitate to take lives.”
Mac nodded. He knew that to be true. There was so much animosity between the two sides, even though the war had only begun a few weeks ago. Each side was looking for a quick victory. They wanted the war to be over, each in their own way. Equestria wanted things to return to peace, while Koren just wanted to take over the world quickly and effectively.
“I only signed on to the forces a couple of months ago.” Macintosh said. “I had no idea that so soon I would have to fight for my country. We're just barely out of basic.” Macintosh motioned to Marktime on the bed, still breathing slowly as he slept. “They gave us so much responsibility too quickly. We don't know how to fight a war. But they sent the rest of the force to plough through the border. They sent us as an experimental attack. They wanted to see if the Airborne could take the capital.”
“They could have sent experienced ones, why not? I mean, surely there are an awful lot.” Zecora asked.
“They sent them in with the rest of the force to storm the border, and take the real fighting.” Mac explained. “They were already gone, so they sent us instead. They assumed we would be ready since we all passed basic. Boy... Were they wrong.”
“I can not believe they sent you so unprepared. To be honest, it does not seem fair.” Zecora sympathized.
“No. I suppose it wasn't.” Macintosh nodded. “I'm starting to think they should have promoted someone else.”
The two of them sat there in silence. Macintosh kept his eyes on Marktime, almost as if he assumed that Marktime's condition could get worse at any second. Zecora silently worked away, preparing more remedies to use in the future. She was deliberate in her work, knowing exactly what she was doing. She crushed some herbs, others she diced, and other still she put in water to steep. For the first time since he had dropped into the country, Macintosh felt calm and safe. He had nothing better to do, so he watched Zecora work.
“So, uh...” Macintosh started, trying to decide how to ask his question. “Why do... Why do Zebras speak in rhymes?”
Zecora laughed a deep, hearty laugh. “I was wondering when you would enquire. That is an answer foreigners always desire.” She put down her work. “When you have to rhyme your lines, you consider what you say a few times. If you have to think over what you say, you say what you mean and not what you may.”
“What?” Mac was a little confused.
“If you respond too quickly I can bet, you will say something you'll regret.” Zecora explained.
“So, because you rhyme, you have to think over what you say.” Mac nodded. “And that keeps you from saying something in the spur of the moment that you could regret. You might not mean what you say, but you end up saying it anyway.”
Zecora nodded and smiled. “Utilizing our semantic, can also make speaking more romantic.”
“Yeah, and it probably makes finishing each others sentences a lot more difficult.” Mac joked.
“It makes you think more on it.” Zecora chuckled.
The laughter helped lighten the mood. Mac was still hoping for rescue, but not with the same urgency as before. He enjoyed the polite company of the Zebra who had saved his friend. A complete stranger, with no promise of reward had selflessly helped save someone she did not know. The things she could teach people, Macintosh thought.
Occasionally Marktime would wake up, sometimes in pain, and Zecora would quickly give him something for it. One time, Marktime woke up and felt good. He looked around the room, but there was no one in sight. He called out for M Cpl. Macintosh or Zecora, but neither answered. He looked at his watch, but it had been broken during the firefight, so he had no idea what time it was. Marktime quickly got tired of waiting and decided to try to get up. Big mistake.
As soon as he got to his hooves, he fell to the floor. Not standing all day, and recovering from being shot had left Marktime weak. In trying to stand, his legs gave out and he found himself sprawled on the ground. He felt a shot of pain in his abdomen as he hit the ground and as he struggled to roll off of his stomach. Marktime whimpered as he worked up the strength and rolled himself onto his back to get off of his wound. He cried out as he rolled, his wound feeling like a burning stick being jabbed into his abdomen. He looked down as best he could at his injury. He reached a shaky hoof down to touch the gauze, to make sure it was still in place. It had held, but needed to be changed soon.
Marktime breath slowed as he came down from his panicked state. He didn't dare try to get back onto the bed, and lay on the floor.
Out of no where, he heard hoofsteps coming into the house. Marktime began to panic again, thinking that it could be Zebra soldiers coming for him. Looking around wildly, Marktime found his gun on the bedside table. Using one arm to drag himself while the other held the gauze in place, Marktime dragged himself towards the table to get his gun. Finally, he got one hoof on the gun and pulled it down. Pointing the muzzle at the door, he waited to see what would come through.
The door eased open, and a red hoof came through, covered in mud. Marktime kept the gun trained on the door, unsure of what was to follow. Macintosh came into view, and looked over at where Marktime was lying on the ground.
“Marktime!” Mac shouted as he ran over to see his friend.
The sight of his Macintosh relieved Marktime, and he lowered the gun to the floor, dropping it an inch off the ground. Macintosh helped Marktime back into bed and assessed the injury. Zecora came in, hearing the thumping around as Macintosh had moved Marktime. She immediately changed the bandage on Marktime and gave him something for the pain. Marktime relaxed as his breathing slowed and he calmed from his experience.
“Where were you to? I was worried.” Marktime asked as he looked down to where his gun lay on the floor.
“Zecora took me to see Walkabout's grave.” Macintosh explained.
“Who?”
“The soldier who was killed in action yesterday. We assumed you would be alright for a few minutes if we left you asleep.” Mac shrugged. “Sorry to scare you, we didn't expect you to wake up for while.”
“It's okay.” Marktime dismissed. “I shouldn't have tried to get out of bed. I should have just waited for you.”
“It is the side effect because you were medicated.” Zecora pointed out. “It relieves pain but leaves you debilitated.”
“Nice for me to know now.” Marktime shook his head.
“You did not ask.” Zecora smiled.
Author's Note
I think this was a pretty long chapter. A lot got done. I think the story's coming along pretty well, don't you? Please do not hesitate to point out errors or comment on anything hat is unclear. I'll do my best to remedy them.
“Okay, the side effects should have worn off by now, let's get you walking.” Macintosh said, holding out a hoof for Marktime to pull himself out of bed.
It had been two days since the firefight, and Mac and Marktime were still with Zecora. It was as if they were all old friends, they could talk as equals and as allies. Mac had almost given up hope of rescue, but was not too down about it. Sure, they were out of commission in enemy territory with only small amounts of rations to eat, but Zecora and Mac went out in search of herbs and berries that morning in the event they were stuck for a long time by themselves. They almost felt like Marktime's parents, taking care of him while he was sick.
It was about midday, as far as Zecora could tell. They thought that Marktime might be able to take a few steps, provided he didn't fall and aggravate his wound. So, Marktime took the hoof Macintosh had offered him, and pulled himself off the bed. First, he moved to the edge, letting hind legs hang off of the side and touch the ground. So far, so good. Next, he lay down on his side, like he was just learning to swim, and didn't want to jump too fast into the pool. Finally, he rolled himself off of the edge of the bed, being careful not to lie on his injury.
The sound of his front hooves touching the ground was like music to his ears. Marktime looked down at his feet like he had just grown them, and took a few cautionary steps. When he looked up, he saw the smiling faces of Mac and Zecora staring back at him.
“Ma, I can walk again! It's a miracle.” Marktime laughed, looking to Zecora. “Thank you so much.”
“The fact that you are healed, as if by grace, puts a smile on my face.” Zecora grinned.
“Does this mean we're going soon?” Marktime asked, suddenly very serious.
“No.” Mac replied. “I don't want you out there until you're in perfect health. Anything could go wrong out there, and I can't risk your wound opening up.” Then, looking at Zecora, he continued. “Which raises a question.”
Zecora's ears perked and she cocked her head. “Yes?”
“When it is time for use to go,” Macintosh began, “will you be coming with us, please? We could really use your medical expertise.”
Zecora thought for a moment. She looked at the two ponies who had become her close friend, and her patient. It was a hard decision to make. If they lost the war, she would be guilty of treason. She also had no way of knowing how the others in Mac's Company would react to a Zebra. She thought for a moment, replaying what Macintosh had just said in her head.
Before coming to a decision, she said smiling, “That rhymed.”
Macintosh was confused for a second, so he replayed his previous words in his head. “So it did.” He laughed.
“Look out Master Corporal, she's growing on you.” It was Marktime's turn to laugh.
Zecora blushed at the joke, so did Mac. “So, what do you say?” Macintosh asked, returning to his previous question.
After a moment of thought, Zecora looked at her new friends. “I will come with you on your trek. But, if I help a Zebra, don't give me heck.”
“As long as he still isn't shooting at us, you can perform surgery.” Macintosh confirmed. “We'd love to have you.”
“Ditto.” Marktime stated, taking a few more paces forward. “Not to mention those herbs of yours. Some of those had me dreaming in technicolour.” He then paused, and reached a hoof into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a worn down deck of cards. “Who's up for a game?”
They played various games, initially having to teach Zecora some of them. After a few games, Zecora taught them a game that neither of them knew, but had a lot of fun learning. It reminded Mac of training. They were friends, sitting around, playing cards. No ranks, no war, just them.
Eventually, Marktime said he felt tired and needed some rest, so he rolled back into bed all by himself and lay back. Within a few minutes, he was breathing slow and steady, and deep asleep. He may not have seemed it, but he was still exhausted. Mac closed the blinds, as it was still only the afternoon, and he and Zecora stepped out of Marktime's room. The door clicked behind them, and Mac took off his beret, stuffing it under one epaulette of his jacket. Normally, this would be seen as sign of surrender. But, seeing as there was no one around to surrender to, he couldn't have cared less.
“Your friend is recovering quick. If I did not know better, I'd think it a trick.” Zecora whispered, being sure not to disturb Marktime.
“He's a tough kid.” Mac nodded. “I'm sure he'll be fine.” He turned and faced Zecora, who did the same. He moved forward and took her in a warm embrace. “He wouldn't have made it without you. Thank you so much. I don't... I don't think me or him would have made it without you.”
Zecora returned the hug and held the soldier close. “You are very welcome. You helped me though this too.”
“How so?” Mac asked, still holding the Zebra. He then moved back, out of the hug and looked at her, confused. “Hold on, that didn't rhyme.”
“What I said couldn't wait.” Zecora smiled.
“How did I help you?” Mac asked, still not quite understanding. “You did a lot more for me. And I didn't even trust you.”
“Before you came, I was bitterly holding on to the past.” Zecora explained. “But now, I realize that there is no refuge in hiding from the future. We have to move forward, through the good and the bad. Because holding onto the past only results in getting us left behind. I want to help put an end to this war. I can't be a bystander any longer. You showed me that. You, Master Corporal.”
“Didn't I tell you my name?” Mac asked, realizing that in two days, he never mentioned his own name to his new ally. “Of course I didn't. Why didn't you ask?”
“I find it is better for people to tell you their own names, and not to have to ask.” Zecora replied. “It seems more polite to allow people their own time to introduce themselves.”
“Zecora.” Mac shook his head. “I will never understand why you do what you do.” He then embraced her again. “But I hope you never change.”
Suddenly, Mac heard hoofsteps fast approaching from outside of the house.
“Get behind me.” He whispered, pulling out his pistol and aiming it towards the door. Mac held the trigger tightly, ready to pull it at any moment.
The door to the house was kicked open and Mac immediately found himself staring down the barrel of a gun, but he did not shoot. What stood before him was a green tunic and a red beret. Both belonged to a grey coloured unicorn who now stood in the door to the house. The first thing they saw was each other, and then the guns came into view. They lowered them simultaneously, mouths agape in shock and disbelief.
“Mac?”
Author's Note
It's a short chapter, but I thought it was a pretty good one for character development, and had a good cliffhanger. Thanks for reading
“Mac, is that you?” Splintstitch asked, holstering his pistol.
“Yeah, it's me.” Mac replied. “How did you find us?”
Splintstitch ran to the door and called out. “Hey! We found him! He's over here!” Then, he turned back to Macintosh. “Thank Celestia you're okay. We came as soon as we could.”
“What about the rest of the Company?” Mac asked, placing his beret on his head and adjusting it. “Is everyone else okay?”
“Better, actually.” Splintstitch smiled. “The guys from your half of the squad, the ones who got captured. Well, the Zebras took a route that came right through where we were waiting for you. We took 'em by surprise, and believe it or not, we won. So we got the rest of the squad back together.”
“That's fantastic!” Mac exclaimed, perhaps a bit loud.
He may have woken up Marktime, but it didn't matter. They were saved, and the rest of the squad was fine. Macintosh could make up for his failure. He walked over to Splintstitch and offered him a hoof shake. Splintstitch accepted it, but cut it short, looking over Macintosh's shoulder to the Zebra standing in the corner.
“Speaking of Zebras.” Splintstitch was suddenly very serious. “Who the Hell is that, and why is she here?”
Macintosh looked over his shoulder and walked over to Zecora. He could understand why Splintstitch would have resentment or fear towards her, he did at first. He wanted to show Splintstitch that she was not a threat. He put and arm around Zecora as a sign of friendship and introduced her.
“This is Zecora.” Mac began. “She's the one who saved me and Marktime. We wouldn't have made it without her.”
“Well, thank Celestia that Marktime's fine, but how do you know we can trust her?” Splintstitch asked. “She's one of them, remember?”
“What do you mean, one of them?” Macintosh countered, taking a step towards Splintstitch. “She may be a Zebra, but she's nothing like those soldiers you guys fought. She's a doctor. We've been here for two days, and she hasn't slit our throats in our sleep.”
“Well, of course not.” Said Reelin, coming through the door. “You guys outnumber and outgun her.”
“It's nice to see you too, Reelin.” Mac noted sarcastically. “We didn't outnumber or outgun her when she found us. I was having a panic attack, and Marktime was holding his guts in. He passed out from the pain, and I fell asleep from sheer exhaust. She could have killed us, but she didn't. So, yes, I trust her.”
Reelin and Splintstitch shared a look. They wanted to believe their friend, but they weren't sure if he was completely sane. They whispered to each other for a moment and turned back to Mac.
“Where's Marktime?” Splintstitch asked.
Macintosh and Zecora led them into the room where Martime had been sleeping. He now lay awake in bed, having heard the entire discussion from the next room over. He had kicked off the blankets and was just about to pull himself out of bed when they came in. Marktime looked towards the door and smiled.
“Reelin, Splintstitch!” Marktime cheered, putting his beret on. “It's great to see you guys.”
“Good to see you too, Marks.” Reelin nodded, looking directly at the gunshot wound his friend had sustained.
“How are you feeling?” Zecora enquired, stepping closer to get a better look and offering a hoof to help him off of the bed.
“I'm feeling much better, thank you miss.” Marktime replied, taking her hoof and pulling himself onto the floor. He then addressed the two newcomers. “Zecora helped me and Mac a lot. I might not still be here if it weren't for her. You can trust her, I promise.”
Now that Splintstitch and Reelin had two accounts to go off of, they believed the story. Splintstitch turned to Macintosh, with a look of remorse on his face. He walked over and offered a slight bow to Macintosh.
“I'm sorry I didn't believe you.” Splintstitch apologized. “It's good to have you back, Mac. And it's nice to meet you, Ma'am.” Splintstitch added, facing Zecora.
“I'm sorry too, Mac.” Reelin said, scratching the back of his head.
“Well thank you both.” Mac smiled, and after a moment, asked, “Where's the rest of the Company?”
“We elected to look for you after we got your message. With the help of the rest of your squad, we found you. Otherwise it would have taken days.” Splintstitch replied. “The rest of the Company is headed towards the capital. We should hurry to meet up with them, they may need us.”
“Why didn't you respond to our transmission?” Mac asked.
“In case there were any other patrols scanning the area, we didn't want them picking up on the message.” Reelin responded.
“Smart thinking on your part.” Mac nodded.
“It'd be smarter for us to get back to them, ASAP.” Splintstitch noted. He turned to Marktime, “Are you good to walk?”
“I think so.” Marktime took a few paces back and forth. “If someone can carry my kit for me. And if the doctor will clear me.” He added, looking to Zecora.
“Well, she's coming with us, so she can keep a close eye on you.” Macintosh confirmed.
“Woah!” Reelin raised his forelegs in disagreement. “Take her with us? Can we even do that?”
“We can, and we are.” Macintosh stated, he took a spare green tunic out of his pack and handed it to Zecora. “You'll need this for camouflage if you're still coming with us.”
Zecora took it, and silently slipped it on. It was a little big, but she did up the buttons on the front and used the draw-strings to tighten it. Unlike the others, who had their sleeves rolled up, she kept hers down to cover her Zebra stripes. She took up her medical supplies in the bag she had left next to Marktime's bed and threw it onto her back. She nodded, letting the others know that she was prepared to go at any time.
“Rally the others, we're leaving.” Macintosh ordered as Reelin ran out to get the rest of the squad together.
“Thank Celestia you're okay.” Splintstitch said.
“You've already said that.” Macintosh noted.
“And I still mean it.” Splintstitch smiled. “Looks like the gang's back together.”
Author's Note
The plot thickens! And hopefully, so do the chapters from here. Sorry this one's a little on the short side, but I think I'm starting to fall prey to writers block.... AAAAAAAAAAAAH *thunder crashes
The squad, with the addition of Zecora trudged through the empty city, attempting to set a good pace. They needed to meet up with the rest o the Company as soon as possible. The longer they were separated, the better their chances were of not making it to the capital in time. Their hope was that they would get back together, which would give them a better chance of taking the capital.
Zecora kept close to Macintosh and Marktime. They were the only ones she was really comfortable with, and they were the only ones really comfortable with her. The three of them had become very tight in the last two days, and were almost inseparable. Macintosh would occasionally lock eyes with Zecora, and would quickly look away out of embarrassment. He knew that he felt something for her, but it might just be because he felt indebted to her, like he owed her something.
The city was massive, bigger than Macintosh had originally assumed, but they were making excellent time as they crossed it. The buildings were not that big, simple houses with one or two stories each lining each side of the road. But the city went on for miles. They could feel the heat off of the ground in the humid summer air. The air was hot and uncomfortably moist as they trudged along. Zecora seemed used to it but, then again, this was her homeland.
Marktime occasionally had to stop when he would feel his injury getting wet with sweat and starting to burn. Zecora would sit him down and change the dressing on his wound, taking time to crush up some of her herbs and lay them onto the bullet hole. Incredibly, the injury seemed much older than it really was, looking more healed than it should have in just two days. The herbs must have been responsible for that. The breaks would be hurried along by Macintosh and the rest of the squad, who felt a sense of urgency towards getting back to the rest of the Company. Before too long, they were trudging through the city again.
By nightfall, the squad was just outside of the city. They were cloaked by trees and tall grass where they were. Macintosh decided that this was as good a time and a place as any to break for the night. He got Zecora and Marktime comfortable before meeting with Splintstitch to get the full plan of action. He and Splintstitch dropped their packs and fished out their maps to compare.
“So, like I said before,” Splintstitch began pointing out locations on the map, “We split off about here.” He pointed to just east of their current location. “Then, we came back here for about a day and a half to find you guys. By our calculations, and by the original plan, the rest of the Company should be about here.” Splintstitch pointed then to a spot a few miles northeast of them. “If we keep up the pace we had today, we should meet up with them just before they reach the capital.”
“Perfect.” Macintosh nodded.
“Then the fight begins.” Splintstitch added.
“The hope is that there won't be any fighting.” Macintosh said, turning to Splintstitch and removing his helmet. “The idea is that we get in silently and capture Koren. Then we can have him order his forces to stand down. After that, it's all a matter of waiting for the Equestrian Army to get there and take him back to Equestria for his court martial hearing.”
Splintstitch nodded. They both knew the plan. Splintstitch took off his helmet and dropped it next to his bag. His clothes were damp with sweat and from the humidity of the day as he peeled off his jacket and beret for the night. Splintstitch rolled out his sleeping bag and lay down on top of it, looking up at the stars.
“This is the best part o my day.” Splintstitch said. “When I look up at the stars, it makes me feel like I'm back home, like I've never left.”
“Since I got here, I haven't been able to see the stars.” Macintosh noted, unbuttoning his tunic and taking off his beret like Splintstitch had. “And I must say I'm glad.”
Splintstitch responded by giving Macintosh a look like he had just grown a second head.
“Let me explain.” Macintosh continued. “I don't want to be reminded of home. I want this place to remain completely separate. When I go home and look at the stars, I want only good memories to be attached to them, not thoughts of war.”
“That's why I want to see them.” Splintstitch explained. “Because those are the memories I have connected with the stars in the sky, and I need a little encouragement. That's why I fight, y'know.” Splintitch turned to Mac. “I fight for those memories in the hopes that we can go back to them.”
“I fight so people can go back and make those memories.” Mac added.
“I guess we're two sides of the same coin.” Splintstitch smiled. “You fight for me, and I fight for you.”
Macintosh smiled back and they stood in silence, staring back up at the stars. They hoped for their own ideals. Macintosh bid his friend a good night before returning to Marktime and Zecora to see if they were getting settled in. He came through the foliage to see Marktime bundled up in his sleeping bag, with Zecora keeping a watchful eye on him. Macintosh took a seat next to the Zebra and looked her in the eyes.
“Is he doing all right?” Macintosh asked moving close to Zecora.
“He'll sleep through the night.” Zecora confirmed, nodding lightly.
Mac and Zecora sat in complete, yet comfortable silence, just enjoying the others presence. Marktime slept soundly, snoring quietly and occasionally starting to turn over, before realizing that that would hurt, and turned back onto his back. Zecora was still wearing the green tunic that Macintosh had given to her back at her house. The colour almost complemented her, Macintosh thought as he looked her over.
“Do you think that you are ready to fight?” Zecora asked, finally breaking the silence between them. “Is victory within your sights?”
“I really think so.” Macintosh nodded. “Good always seems to have a way of coming out on top. I think that when we get to the capital, we're gonna have a pretty uphill battle. But I'm sure that we'll come out on top. I promised...” His last words trailed off.
“Who?” Zecora asked, leaning closer to Mac.
“My sister, and my Granny.” Macintosh replied. He reached into his tunic pocket and fished out a slightly bent picture of him and his family. “That's them here, with me. I promised Granny and Applejack, that's my sister, that I would be home in just over a week.”
“That's a tall order.” Zecora said.
“Well, back then, it seemed pretty likely, and it might still be. If we can reach the capital in a day or two like we plan.” Macintosh smiled. “I can't wait to see them again.” Then, a thought occurred to the red stallion. “Where will you go after the war? What about your family?”
Zecora looked saddened by the question. But before Mac could apologize, she spoke. “My parents died when I was young. A picture of them, on my wall, I hung. I had no siblings, no bro or sis. So my parents most of all, I miss.” Zecora looked gloomily, yet hopefully at Mac. “After the war is fought and won, to a new home I will run. Perhaps to your country, I will go. If there is somewhere that you know.”
Macintosh thought for a moment. “Maybe you could move into Ponyville. That's where I'm from.”
“But what if other ponies don't like me there?” Zecora asked. “They would connect my presence to you, it would not be fair.”
“Ponyville is a really nice place.” Macintosh assured her. “We accept all kinds of races into the town. You could be safe and loved there.”
“I would need a place much like my home.” Zecora noted. “Some place I could call my home.”
Macintosh looked around at the foliage. “There's always the Everfree forest. Most ponies don't go in there, you would be safe from any ridicule. And there are a lot of herbs in there that nopony knows about.”
“The Everfree forest, it has a nice feel.” Zecora said, then moving in and hugging Macintosh, finished. “Once the war's over, it's a deal.”
Macintosh felt as if he had just made another promise. He would now win this war, not only for his family and friends, but for Zecora, so she could find a new home. Macintosh could not wait to get home, but knew it could take longer than he had anticipated. Slipping the picture back into his pocket, Mac stared over Zecora's shoulder into the distant darkness, wondering what secrets it held. The embrace was broken and the two of them, Macintosh and Zecora, smiled and wished each other a good night. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Mac realized that Zecora did not have a bag to sleep in, and offered her his like a gentleman. She gratefully accepted it, and Mac laid a tarpaulin for himself to sleep on. The night was warm, so he really did not need a sleeping bag to keep him warm.
Macintosh heard a twig snap, and it jolted him from his rest. His eyes darted around, it was still dark out. He quietly called out the names of various troops, hoping one of them would respond. Finally, he called out for Zecora, and heard nothing but movement. He decided he should investigate. He rose, hardly feeling the ground below him. Mac silently moved to where he thought he heard the first noise. All he found was a set of bloody hoofprints on the ground. Inspecting where they lead, he determined that they were headed in the direction of Marktime. Mac pulled out his pistol, though he didn't remember picking it up. Holding it in front of him, Mac moved towards Marktime's camp.
Mac burst through the bushes and aimed his gun at the only thing that moved. What he say terrified him. There Zecora was, blood on her fur and hooves, holding the knife she used to harvest herbs. Marktime was struggling under her weight as she tried to cut his throat. Mac took no time pulling the trigger as many times as it took to unload the clip, he thought he heard fourteen shots, but he couldn't be sure. The bullets, however, simply passed through Zecora and flew into his helpless friend, killing him. Mac clicked the trigger of his gun, telling him the clip truly was empty. Zecora turned, her eyes as red as the sun, a horrid smile dancing on her face. She barrelled at the now helpless Macintosh with her knife, and pinned him to the ground.
“How's your sister doing?” The Zebra hissed through clenched teeth. “And Granny?”
Macintosh watched the knife close in on his chest as Zecora slowly overpowered him.
“Macintosh!” Zecora shouted, snapping Mac out of his dream. “Wake up!”
He was still under the influence of his dream, though, and was terrified to see Zecora above him. He reached up and grabbed her by the shoulders, throwing her off of him. He got to his feet and panted furiously. His hooves shook as badly as they had when he had first met her. Slowly coming to his senses as he watched Zecora slowly rise to her hooves, Macintosh immediately regretted what he had done.
“Zecora!” Macintosh called, rushing over to the Zebra. “Are you alright? I am so sorry. I was having a nightmare and I-”
“It's okay.” Zecora said, looking up into Macintosh's eyes. “I understand.”
Macintosh fought for words to say, to apologize, but none came to him. He simple wrapped his forelegs around her neck and continued to pant over her shoulder. Zecora returned the gesture and whispered “It's okay” over and over to him. He had never intended to do her harm. The dream felt like the one he had had before he had left the country on his mission. In his mind, he knew that Zecora would never do something like that, but his imagination had gotten the best of him.
Author's Note
Where will the path lead them from here? Hopefully somewhere better. What will become of the squad? Find out next time. Same CogWing time, same CogWing channel.
The following day moved as quickly as the first, as did the third. But, at last, the squad met up with the rest of the Company. They were met with admiration and respect. The rest of the Company was overjoyed to see them. However, Zecora was met with the same hostilities she had been by Mac and the rest of the squad when they had first met her. She was used to it, but Macintosh found it unfair.
On the day the entire Company was reunited, they spent all their time and efforts arriving at the capital. The walk was long, and breaks were very limited. The only time they were allowed to stop was at lunch, and the rest of the meals were eaten on the go. Macintosh was relieved to allow someone else to take command. There was a Sergeant who had dropped in with them and had taken his place as Company commander. Since he no longer had to be fully responsible, Macintosh took his place along side Marktime and Zecora. Reelin and Splintstitch followed close behind him. The four of them, Mac, Marktime, Reelin and Splintstitch, passed the time by making light conversation. Zecora spent the walk mostly in silence, only responding to a few questions.
Their day ended when they could see the outskirts of the capital. The Sergeant told them that they would wait until the following night to make any move. They were told that they would camp there for the night to regain their strength. The following night, under cover of darkness, they would move into the capital. The entire Company gathered around the Sergeant to hear the entire plan.
“Tomorrow night.” The Sergeant stated. “That's when it all goes down. We'll move into the capital, one building in particular. The building that once housed parliament in the Zebra Republic. We'll go in there, and wait until Koren comes in. Then we take him prisoner and we make him order his troops off of the border. Then we can bang out a peace treaty or some other Bullshit.”
“Sergeant.” A Private asked. “What if he refuses to take his troops off?”
“Then we kill the two-toned rat and ask whoever takes his place.” The Sergeant shouted.
The Company erupted in cheers, but Mac and Zecora remained silent. Macintosh could tell that she felt uncomfortable, and to be honest, so did he. These were not the same men he remembered from basic. They wanted to see violence, they did not care who they hurt, so long as it was in the name of justice. As long as they were told it was in the name of justice. Zecora was scared of the soldiers, and with good reason. The soldiers were no better than hired guns now. All they had to do was be pointed in the right direction, and they would shoot whoever they were told to.
Macintosh waited through the rest of the meeting, feeling uncomfortable and worried. The others, save Zecora and Marktime, seemed just fine with the idea of having to kill until they got what they wanted. True, killing the few commanders would be better than all out war, but Mac did not feel good about it. Any killing was bad in Mac's eyes, Zecora had shown him that. But he would do as he was told, he would kill if it was completely necessary to do so. This war needed to end before it left a permanent scar on the planet and its inhabitants.
Macintosh made sure that Marktime was safely and comfortably in bed, and gave his sleeping bag to Zecora again. Macintosh asked Marktime if he could borrow his playing cards, and Marktime said that it was fine with him. After he knew that they both had everything, Macintosh walked over to where he knew that Reelin and Splintstitch were. He had a seat with his two friends and dealt a hand of President to each of them.
“So, what happened to everyone?” Macintosh asked, concerned. “No offence, but you guys have changed since I last saw you.”
“Oh.” Splintstitch nodded. “I see what the problem is. You're not comfortable with the way we reacted before, is that it?” Splintstitch understood how Mac was feeling, he was not being sarcastic. “No, I get it. You may have seen the best that the war has had to offer, but we saw the opposite while you were in the city.”
“How do you mean?” Macintosh asked, laying his cards on the ground.
“We saw those guys who took the prisoners.” Reelin explained, referring to the Zebras who had ambushed Macintosh. “They were prepared to do anything to keep them as prisoners. We learned that really quick. We attempted to use our superior numbers to get them to give it up. They didn't take kindly to that. They opened fire first. We shot most of them.” Reelin shook his head, as if to clear it. “The last couple did something I'll never forget. When there were two left, and it was clear that they'd lost, one of them tried to surrender. We were ready to take him, he was a new guy, the rest had been hardened vets. His comrade shot him in the back and used him as a meat shield while he tried to kill the rest of us. Needless to say, it didn't work out for him.”
“We were shocked by it, and that became our lasting impression of the Zebras.” Splintstitch said. “Cold blooded killers.”
“But they ain't all like that.” Mac reasoned.
“We know, but the soldiers are, Mac.” Splintstitch countered. “They want this war over too, but they want us all dead in the process, and they'll die trying. I know your lady friend is different. But she may just be the exception to the rule. You have to accept that killing might be the only way to get this war over with. It's not nice, but it's a necessary evil.”
Mac sort of understood. They hadn't all cheered because they wanted to kill, though some had. His friends at least only wanted to kill to finish the war, and they were prepared to kill whoever needed to be.
“Let's not talk any more about this.” Splintstitch shook his head. “This'll only lead to an argument we don't need before going into battle.”
Macintosh and Reelin concurred and they went back to playing cards. It was a while before anyone spoke again, but it was Reelin who broke the silence.
“Do you remember Topnotch?” Reelin looked at Mac.
“Yeah, of course I do.” Mac nodded.
“I think he's been hit pretty hard with this whole thing.” Reelin replied
“How so? Is he going shell-shocked?” Mac put his cards down again.
“No. He likes it.” Splintstitch shook his head.
“What?” Mac almost shouted.
“He likes the killing, and so do his friends.” Splintstitch responded. “I would stay far away from them if I were you. And I would keep a close eye on your zebra friend.”
“Her name is Zecora.” Mac sternly stated.
“I'm just saying that you shouldn't leave her anywhere near them.” Splintstitch shook his head. “They've gone nuts. They're liable to kill anything black and white.” He looked down at the cards. “I think tonight we should sleep close to her and Marktime. Just to be sure that they don't try anything stupid the day before battle.”
Macintosh nodded quickly and collected the cards. The three of them collected their gear and headed back to where Marktime and Zecora were sleeping. The other two laid out their sleeping bags and slid into them after pulling off their battle dress. Reelin looked over at Macintosh after realizing he wasn't getting into a bag.
“Where's your sleeping bag?” Reelin asked.
“Gave it to Zecora.” Mac replied, laying out the tarp.
“You, sir, are a true gentleman.” Splintstitch laughed.
“She's lucky to have a guy like you.” Reelin chuckled, making Mac blush slightly.
“What? No. I mean-” Mac struggled to think of something to say.
“It's okay.” Splinstitch shook his head. “I'm just teasing.”
Mac nodded in response.
“But I mean what I say now.” Splinstitch looked at him seriously. “She is lucky to have you looking out for her. Keep her safe.”
Mac smiled at his friend, and then promised he would keep Zecora safe. Little did he know, Zecora had been woken up when they started talking. She had heard the entire conversation. When she heard Mac's promise, she smiled and fell back asleep.
Author's Note
Tomorrow, they storm the capital. Exciting! Right?
This was it. The day they had been training for. The day they had been anticipating. It all culminated in this. Mac looked back over his shoulder to ensure that all of his squad mates were there. They stood at the edge of the capital, it was nearly midnight. Nearly all of the lights were turned out, except for those of the occasional insomniac. The night was calm and clear, all the stars glinted, almost out-shined by the light of the full moon.
Macintosh had made sure that his gun was fully loaded, and that his knife was as sharp as it could be. Zecora and Marktime, as well as any sick and wounded, were to remain just outside of the city. They would be safe there. Macintosh thought back to all of the promises he had made in that week. The promise he had made to Granny and Applejack that he would be home when the week was out. The promise he had made to Marktime that he would come back from the Republic alive. Finally, the promise that he had made to Zecora that she could come with him back to Ponyville. He wanted to keep them all, he needed to keep them all.
Suddenly, he saw a stallion far across the foliage waving to him. That was the signal to move. The whole squad, in fact the entire Company rose from the ground like a wave. They moved quickly and quietly into the city. In the dead of night, only a few guards would be out to patrol the city. None of them expected a raid from Equestria, supposedly they were all at the border. Macintosh attempted to clear his mind. The only thing he could focus on at that moment had to be the mission. Nothing else could matter. He found this difficult to do, however, because he had so much riding on this victory.
Every step he took sounded to him like thunder. Every breath sounded like a hurricane. Macintosh became so acutely aware of what was going on around him, he began to feel each bead of sweat as it formed. He could see the top of the capital building from nearly a mile away. Every time a guard truck passed, he froze in place, scared to move. Macintosh did not want his allies to see him scared, so he took a deep breath and quickly let it out before turning back to the squad and offering each of them a nod, as if to say “Let's do this.” They all returned the gesture and followed in close behind him.
The Company gathered in an alleyway close to the capital building. The specialists were assigned to pick the locks on the front door and report back as soon as they were done. After they returned, they would ferry across, two by two, until the entire Company was in the building. The specialists, none of which Mac knew personally. They were gone for almost too long. Macintosh and the rest of the squad became worried. They could have been killed, or worse, captured.
At last, the sounds of hoofsteps could be heard coming around the corner. Just to be safe, some of the soldiers in the alley raised their pistol to repel the oncoming threat. They all breathed a sigh of relief as they saw the specialists come around, all except one. He had remained at the capital building to ensure it stayed unlocked.
The ferrying began with the lowest ranks moving over first. Everything went smoothly, only hitches being when they had to wait for a patrol truck to pass by. The ferrying began again soon after it passed. When there were only Corporals, Master Corporals and the Sergeant left, Splintstitch was the first of them to go.
“See you on the other side.” Splintstitch smiled as he gave Mac a pat on the back.
The rest of the movement of troops was swift and simple. When it was Macintosh's turn, he ran, not looking around to see if anyone was coming, just needing to reach the other side of the road and get into the building. He ducked quietly inside and was draped in darkness. His eyes quickly adjusted and he saw the rest of the Company scattered about the room.
The Sergeant was the last one through the door. He ordered one of the specialists to lock the door behind him. The room fell silent as the Sergeant led the way to the house of commons where Koren would meet with his staff the following morning. The troops took cover around the massive hall and lay silent and still. As the night dragged on, none of them slept. Not just because they were not permitted to, but because their adrenaline was pumping, and they would not have been able to if they had wanted to. They all feared that if they fell asleep, they would wake up with a gun in their face, and a Zebra smiling cruelly down at them. Mac held his cover, which he had chosen to take just behind a desk on one side of the main entrance. The room fell dead as the cover of darkness hid the bodies of the ponies who were to take the Republican Dictator the following morning.
The sun peaked through the windows, and would have revealed the troops hiding in the room, if they had not taken cover beneath the hundreds of desks in the house of commons. None of them were even tired, they were still riding out the adrenaline rushes from the night before. Macintosh kept his eyes fixed on the main entrance, holding his gun in the event of a firefight.
Suddenly, the house of commons filled with the sounds of distant speaking. All of the voices were deep enough to be Zebras, and Macintosh would bet his life that one of them was Koren. The voices drew near, and the room filled with the electricity of troops preparing themselves for whatever came through the door. All of the troops held their ground and kept as well hidden as possible.
The main entrance swung open and Zebras started filing into the room. There were nearly two dozen Zebras coming into the room. They were Koren's personal staff, and Koren himself was the last to enter the room. As the door closed behind Koren, Big Mac readied himself to jump out and take the uniformed Zebras by surprise.
“Now!” The Sergeant shouted as the troops jumped out from behind their various blockades.
Macintosh was about to jump when Koren's staff pulled out their side arms and aimed them at whichever ponies they saw first. Macintosh held his place in case the Zebras started firing. The room fell silent again as the Zebras weighed their odds. From where he was, Macintosh could see Topnotch across the room, twitching slightly. Macintosh saw a look forming in the cloudy eyes of the once proud pony. The look was of a creature whose only drive was the promise of blood. Topnotch had become no more than a murderer looking for his first kill. His kill had to be a Zebra.
Macintosh could do nothing. If he shouted, the Zebras would find him. But if he didn't, Topnotch would soon open fire. Macintosh thought over what he could do. Unfortunately, it seemed he took to long.
Shots rang out from Topnotch as the first of the Zebras fell. Topnotch kept firing, and the Zebras lunged for cover. Koren just happened to jump on the other side of the blockade Macintosh was using. Macintosh knew he was there, but Koren knew nothing of the red stallion on the other side.
“Stop him!” The Sergeant screamed as he pointed over to Topnotch.
Koren was all too happy to do as the Sergeant ordered as he jumped from behind the blockade and fired two shots into Topnotch. Topnotch fell instantly, rolling to the ground as the shots subsided. Macintosh saw an opening to act. He jumped up, taking Koren by surprise and punched him squarely between the eyes. Before he hit the floor, though, Mac grabbed him and took him into the standard hostage hold, his gun trained on the unconscious Zebra.
“Drop your weapons, or he dies!” Macintosh bellowed in the coming silence of the room.
The Zebras looked at their helpless leader and almost instantly dropped their weapons. Troops moved in to take the disarmed Generals prisoner. There were five dead ponies, and three dead Zebras. But at the time, Macintosh was not concerned with the dead. He was concerned with the dictator in his arms.
Koren awoke and tried to move. Of course, he could not. The remainder of 761 had tied him to a chair in his office. The Sergeant stood before him holding an order of cease fire that needed only to be signed by the Zebra he held captive. He held out a pen for the Zebra to grasp in his teeth. Now was the moment of truth. Macintosh remembered the words from the night before. How the Sergeant had said that if Koren refused to sign, he would kill him and move on to the next highest rank.
Koren looked the Sergeant in the eyes and then looked back to the page he had in front of him. Reaching down, Koren took up the pen in his mouth and moved towards the orders. He slowly signed his name, giving up his rule over the Zebra Republic, and ending the war. When he dropped the pen to the floor and let his head hang down, the room erupted into cheers from 761. They chanted their Company number the same way they had in the barracks the night they were ordered into the war. It was a fitting end. The war, for them, had ended in the exact same way it had begun.
Author's Note
So the war has ended, but the story has not. Please stick around to see how the whole thing kicks off.
Macintosh looked out of the window of the train as it chugged along the track. He saw the familiar country look of his home. If he had looked ahead, he would have seen Ponyville filled with the smiling and waiting townsponies who had come out to see his return. Normally, Macintosh would have felt warm in what he was wearing, but he was a little more used to the Zebra Republican climate. Even though he had only been there a little over a week, it had left an impression on him, in more ways than one. He wore his dress uniform, which consisted of a green tunic, any medals he had received, and his red beret.
Just the day before, Macintosh had been at a medal parade in Canterlot. Everyone in 761 Airborne Company had been awarded the general service medals, as well as the campaign medal for storming the Zebra Republic. The general service medal was a golden medallion with the face of Princess Celestia on one side, with a rainbow coloured ribbon. The campaign medal was a silver medallion with the crest of the Zebra Republic and a black, white and red ribbon. Macintosh was astonished to hear his name called up a third time to receive the medal for gallantry. As he marched up to accept the prestigious award, he wondered what it could be for. As far as he could tell, he had done nothing really deserving of it. He accepted the award with as much pride as he had received his wings with. The gallantry medal was a gold star shape, with a red, green and blue ribbon.
Macintosh had fallen back in with the Company, and then they were dismissed. As they turned and marched off, the Company shouted “7-6-1” in step for their first three paces. They were proud of what they had achieved, and were happy to be home.
A jolt as the train pulled into the Ponyville station pulled Macintosh back into the present. He looked out the window to see the station packed with ponies who were anticipating his return. He had been the only one in town to join up in the Airborne unit. Others had joined up with the army, and had come home a few days earlier. It had taken longer to get the Airborne back from the Zebra Republic than the Army.
Macintosh threw his duffel bag over his shoulders and stepped out onto the platform. Cheers erupted around him, with some ponies throwing confetti, some holding welcome home signs, and others still politely clapping. Macintosh looked around to try an find Applejack or Granny, but could see neither of them. His heart sank when he could not see them. But suddenly, Mac felt a large something jump onto his back and squeal with delight. He turned his head to see what it was and found the overjoyed face of Applejack as she clung to his back.
Macintosh felt like he could explode with joy. Never in his life had been so happy to see his friends and family before. He saw Granny approaching out of the crowd of ponies and drew her into a hug. He could have let that moment go on forever, but he had something he needed to do later on. The embrace broke as Mac went around to the rest of the townsponies and offered them hoof shakes and hoof bumps, his sister still clinging to his back.
The reception eventually died out as Macintosh and his family returned to the farm. Granny and Applejack went off to prepare dinner, but Macintosh had somewhere he needed to be. Granny allowed Mac to go off for a while, provided he was back before the dinner bell rang. Before another second passed, Macintosh was running into the Everfree forest. Most ponies were scared to venture into the dark wooded area, but Macintosh knew where he was going.
He came to a clearing, where the foundation for a small hut had been built. In the rocky area stood a cloaked Zebra he had come to know very well. Macintosh stepped into the foundation and enveloped her in an embrace. Zecora had arrived on the train the day before, and had set out to make her new home in the forest. As they moved apart, Macintosh removed his gallantry medal. He looked Zecora in the eyes and pinned it onto her cloak.
“You deserve this more than I do.” Macintosh grinned. “You saved my life.”
“The exact same could be said about you.” Zecora said, removing the medal and pinning it back on Macintosh's tunic. “For you saved my life, and my country too.”
Macintosh promised that he would come out every chance he got and help Zecora finish her house. In light of the war, Zecora wanted to remain outside of Ponyville until things calmed down a bit. For now, the two of them sat side by side, looking up to the sky. The stars started to peek out from behind the bright blue veil of the sky as the sun slowly descended into the horizon. Macintosh remembered the night when he dropped into the Republic, how long ago it seemed now. Now there was no hostility, no looming threat overhead. The two of them sat with not a care in the world, simply enjoying each others company until Macintosh had to bid her good night, leaving his sleeping bag with her and returning home.
Granny handed the plates to Macintosh as she dried them. Dinner was over, and Applejack was in bed. The room was lit by a small light over the kitchen sink. Macintosh slid the plates up into the cupboard and closed them in. His mind was lost in a feeling of remembrance of the war, and of what the future held for him and Zecora.
“You haven't said much since you got home.” Granny noted as she drained the sink. “What happened over there?”
“War.” Macintosh stared off into the distance, still in thought and remembrance. “War happened.”
“Do you need to talk about it?” Granny asked, looking over to Big Mac.
“Nope.” Mac shook his head. “I'll be fine. I just need time.”
“Talking might make you feel better.” Granny explained, turning to him.
“A wise Zebra told me that it's important to think about what you say before you say it.” Macintosh's eyes were still locked onto the distance. “If you have something to say, say it in the best way, or not at all.” Mac shook his head and looked up to Granny. “There is no 'best way' to say what happened over there.”
Granny gave Mac a weak smile and turned out the light. “Well, you can't go through life not saying anything. You'll need to open up someday.”
“Yup.” Macintosh nodded. “Someday.”
Granny started off to her bedroom, as it had been an eventful day and she needed her rest. “Good night, Big Macintosh.”
“Good night, Granny.” Macintosh looked up to her and smiled in the dim light of the rising moon.
He remained entranced at the kitchen table for nearly an hour, just thinking. He replayed his last week over and over as he sat in the kitchen. He looked for a silver lining to the death that the war had brought to the two countries, and the changes it had made to those involves. He found only black and white, yet no shades of grey. Macintosh realized how long he had been sitting there. In the dark he looked to the stairs where he had seen Granny what seemed like only a moment ago.
He peered into the darkness and whispered, "I love you."
Author's Note
And there we have it. My first fiction has drawn to a close. Thank you so much for your support along the way, as well as suggestions and criticisms. I hope that you'll be keeping an eye on me and my future fics.
