MSR 'CANTERLOT', 0524, Birch Ranges. One mile short of FOB Nocturne.
“Contact front!” The bellowed roar splits the morning like an axe, followed by a sudden sharp and unwelcome pop pop pop of rounds incoming. Instantly we turn and gallop for whatever cover we can find, the unicorns among our patrol hurling up shields whilst the rest of us pop smoke and dash for cover. The enemy chose their ambush point expertly. Fire is coming at us from front, left and right. The thickly wooded slopes of the valley on either side of us provide excellent cover for an ambushing force; whilst the rocky terrain directly to our front just beyond the bend likewise provides perfect cover for the heavier weapon that is now battering our little patrol. Rounds snarl vindictively over our heads, bright yellow tracers scoring vivid lines in our NODs and puffs of dust erupt all around us as the enemy find our range.
I duck behind one of the larger rocks on the right hand side of the trail, spell-fire snapping at the air behind me. I quickly raise my head to scan for targets along the left side of the road, and it takes me only a moment to spot my first target. A unicorn mare, clad in bulky ceramic plating, not all that dissimilar to the suit I'm wearing though hers is painted in the dappled tan/grey/green brushstroke pattern of the Equestrian army rather than the digital green of the Night Guard. However, her suit makes allowances for a horn that I don’t have. I quickly squint, feeling the enchanted rifle shifting below my neck as the enchantment placed upon it to slave it to my targeting monocle drags it to position. I zoom the monocle in on the unicorn mare, and the little red light in the corner of my eye turns green to let me know I've got a valid firing solution. She's exposed, out of cover and letting her shield soak up damage. Bad idea. With that, I squeeze the firing toggle, my tongue pressing against the firing switch lodged between jaw and cheek.
My rifle opens up with a thunderous crash, I fire three bursts of bright purple tracers that skip through the sky to slam into the unicorn's position. Dust leaps up around her and her shield sparks under the impact of the first burst of rounds and fails under the second. The unicorn starts to gallop for the nearest cover, but the third burst of rounds slams into her, splashing her armour with red and I shift my focus, turning my head to hunt for another target.
Around us, I can hear my colleagues barking out contact reports as they engage targets with mixed results. The volume of fire we're taking is absolutely insane, the air thick with golden tracers. I move to reposition, hunting for another more sturdy rock to hide behind as the enemy start firing at me, their own NODs giving them good eyes on my position. I whirl as a round sizzles through my tail, the smell of burning keratin reaching my nostrils along with the stench of ozone and smoke. I spot the offending firing site to my front, a couple of earth-ponies who are both well dug in among the rocks, manning a crew-served weapon of some kind, the loud thud-thud-thud of its firing ringing in my ears. I sprint for another set of rocks, the weapon tracking my progress across the open ground.
I dive behind the nearest set of rocks I can find and realise I'm not alone in my new cover. Corporal Punishment, the patrol commander, is also firing at the same enemy position as me.
“Lovely weather we're having,” She says brightly.
“Very sunny day, maybe you can do something about that.” She says, her tone sharpening as she turns to glare at me, her magic keeping her weapon pointed at the enemy as she lets off another vicious burst of fire. Bloody unicorns, they get all the fun things.
I nod, shifting my hooves and flick a boom microphone attached to my helmet down with my wing. As the FASTAC attached to the patrol, my job is to call in such support as I can at need. It's exciting, complex and challenging role and one that I've only just graduated into. It's also a hell of a lot of fun. I quickly look down to read the aide-memoire attached to my foreleg, a quick tug with my teeth pulling the velcro cover away to reveal the relevant pages. I quickly scan through them, my grin widening as I realise what callsigns are in the air tonight. We’re deep in the shit and we are getting deeper by the second, we need air support urgently or we will take casualties. With that in mind, I fire up my radio.
“This is Moonstrike One Five calling Birch Forward; I've got troops in contact; we're taking fire from three sides, do you have any assets available?”
“Moonstrike, this is Thunder-Cloud.” Jackpot, I think. Thunder-Cloud is the callsign of the Wonderbolt attack team in the vicinity. I haven't heard much about how good the famous pegasi are at anything other than formation flying, but I'm looking forward to finding out.
“Thundercloud is a two-pony joint-role flight, standard loads and unlimited playtime.” The voice continues into my ear as more gunfire rings out around me, thwacking into the rocks around our position, our section digging in and returning fire bravely. However, we’re outnumbered and outgunned, and the situation is worsening by the second. I can hear more enemy heavy weapons opening up, and the rumbling of an approaching chariot.
“Cool, Moonstrike is a patrol on MSR Canterlot, we're taking fire from multiple hoof-mobiles in cover. Position is tenuous at this time.”
“Copy that, we're making best speed, transmit grids.” The voice doesn't sound like any of the Wonderbolts that I know, but I’m not picky right now. I’d accept junior speedsters with air rifles at this point. I start rattling information off for the incoming flight of pegasi, exchanging grid references and generally trying to give the incoming flight as much information as I can about our position. I need to make sure the attack comes in at a precise angle to avoid smashing us by accident.
But all my business swapping information is rather suddenly brought to an abrupt stop.
“PONY DOWN, PONY DOWN!” The voice rings out over my headset and I look up from my cover to see one of our unicorns down in the middle of the road, red dust splashed across his breastplate. I only get a second’s glance before more fire forces me to duck behind the rock.
“Get some fire going!” Corporal Punishment snaps over the radio “Put smoke up, somepony grab him!”
With that, I redouble my efforts to get our air support in our overhead. “Thunder, we've got a pony down here and enemy danger close, I need you in my overhead right the hell now!” I snap into my microphone as I look around. The others are dug in and in good cover now, but no one’s moving to get our downed colleague. I can see the position marked on my helmet-mounted display in red along with a timer to simulate how long till he ‘bleeds out’. He doesn't have long, a minute at most. Somepony needs to get to him right now and get him back into cover.
“Moonstrike, this is Thunder, we've been re-tasked.” Thunder’s voice is apologetic, as well she might be. Without Thunder, we’re well and truly up shit creek and no mistake. B Company is an infantry company after all and so we don’t have any gun-carriages or chariots and the only carts we have available are the ones we used to bring our heavier gear up, all of which are back at base. Whilst 5th Brigade Royal Horse Artillery has sent some mortars to train with us, they haven’t sent their larger ordinance to come and play. End result, we're naked under the enemy guns.
“Copy that Thunder, clear my frequencies, Birch Forward, do you have anything?”
“That’s negative, all other assets are on tasking or unsuitable.”
“Copy that out.” I knock the boom microphone out of my muzzle and glance around the rock. I’m the closest to the downed unicorn and everypony else is up to their hocks in gunfire. With that I glance at Corporal Punishment who smirks back at me.
“You’re going to try and get him?” she asks, and I nod quickly. She grins in reply. She’s always been a sucker for the big play, and if I manage it, it looks good for her. That being said: the enemy have us boxed up tighter than a Hearth’s Warming gift and the moment I stick my muzzle out, I’m going to draw fire. However it’s my oppo, my comrade, out there and nothing more needs to be said. The ground starts to shake beneath my hooves as the enemy start opening up with mortars, the shrill whistling ringing in my ears as the hostile shells fall from the sky. It’s a rather gutsy move, given their own troops aren't exactly far away, and one misplaced shell will paste them just as easily as a good hit will splash us. But the point cannot be clearer, we need to get moving, if only to get out from under those mortars but leaving our oppo behind is out of the question.
“Well, good luck, we’ll give you cover fire.” Corporal Punishment says, freeing a smoke grenade from her webbing and preparing to throw it with her magic. With that, I check my equipment and then prepare to do something really stupid.
Corporal Punishment hurls her smoke grenade, using her telekinesis to move the smoke grenade into place just beyond the wounded pony. I wait three seconds, hearing the gentle hissing of the smoke building, then I flex my legs and prepare to dash out and snatch my wounded comrade.
Outnumbered, outgunned and surrounded on all sides. Welcome to the Lunar Regiment.
With that thought, I raise my voice.
“For the New Lunar Republic!” I bellow, and as a torrent of guffaws echoes through my headset I leap over the rock, my wings giving me the required lift to get up and over the rock.
I hit the ground then start galloping towards the downed unicorn, the thick smoke filling my vision as I dash towards her. I can feel a gust grasping at my uniform, and I curse the enemy for having a damn weatherpony on the team. The blanket of smoke is snatched away from around me and the gunfire starts, the rattle of spell-rifles and heavy repeaters filling the air. Spellfire strikes the ground around me, and I hear the fizzle of weapons fire against the shield that the other unicorns in the patrol have thrown up around me.
I reach down and grab the unicorn by the strap at the back of his armor and start to pull my comrade back with my teeth, backing up as fast as I can as the shield begins to fade beneath the relentless onslaught of enemy fire. My colleagues are returning fire as best they can, putting out a truly vicious amount of fire, but it's not enough.
“Keep going, you’re good, you’re good!” Punishment’s voice rings in my ear as she punts another smoke grenade into position. I can’t return fire since I can’t tilt my head up to look around for enemy forces and get a sight line on them for the monocle. However as the growling of the approaching chariot fills my ears, I start to move faster, trying to drag the downed unicorn back to the cover of the rocks. I know I’m not going to make it as I hear the scraping of armored wheels on the road as the chariot turns. I'm about to get some and I know it.
Then I suddenly hear a rising howl behind me, a roar like a powerful gust, a roar that I’ve heard before. It’s the sound of a pegasus on an attack run.
Enemy air, what else could go wrong? I ask myself. However, the pegasus roars in over my head, right through the throat of the valley and in on the target. I lift my head, releasing the downed pony to stare as the pegasus tilts downwards and opens fire with cannon, two bright vicious blue lines of cannon fire sprouting from the sides of the combat saddle to slam into the enemy chariot, splashing it with red dust. Red smoke erupts from the chariot’s turret but the pegasus has already banked up and flown away, climbing up to orbitting altitude. I quickly get on comms.
“This is Moonstrike calling air asset over our contact, please identify.”
There’s a long pause on the other side of the line, before a young brazen female voice speaks up.
“This is Anchorhead Three-Two calling Moonstrike, we were in the vicinity, and we tried to raise you on comms, we were on our way back from tasking and diverted to assist, we assumed you were down, how copy?”
“Solid copy Anchorhead, you’ve got good hits on the hard target down here, want to come in and mop the rest up?” I ask, never one to turn down free air support
“Sure, tipping in.” As I watch, the first pegasus sweeps around and then comes in low, a second pegasus flying in on her wing. The two pegasi stoop and then sweep in low, firing a second vicious strafing run right over our heads, punching into the treeline on both sides of the valley. Their fire is lethal and accurate, and I notice a definite decrease in the fire coming in on our positions.
I then turn my head away to start moving my downed fellow night-guardspony back behind the rocks, using the opportunity afforded by the two strafing runs to drag him behind cover. I manage to get him back into safety behind the rocks and then release the strap from my teeth, wiggling my jaw. Dragging ponies around by the mouth, particularly ones in full battle order, is not much fun, but needs must.
I then raise Anchorhead.
“Anchorhead, how’re you doing up there? You seeing anything?”
“That’s a negative.” Anchorhead’s voice is breathless, as it might be from conducting three thoroughly awesome strafes, but it’s also jubilant. “Enemy forces are pulling out into the treeline, we’re leaving your overhead now, you owe me two cases of hayfries and a cider, Moonstrike...”
“Meet me after endex, and I’ll oblige, those were some top notch strikes, Moonstrike out.” I reply, before cutting the connection and glancing around. The fire has completely vanished: the enemy have melted into the gathering dawn, though the signs of battle still hang in the air. Red smoke still billows steadily from the downed chariot and the scent of ozone and cordite hangs upon the air. The rocks we’ve been hiding behind are speckled with scorch marks where rounds have impacted, and the heavy weapons had torn holes the size of one bit coins into the smaller rocks and buried channels into the larger rocks before the incantations powering the rounds lost their energy.
“Re-org!” Corporal Punishment bellows and I form up, getting into all round defence with the remaining seven members of the patrol, the medic continuing to work on the downed pony, Guards-pony Mossy Hill.
“Right, top notch FASTAC support,” Corporal Punishment slaps me on the shoulder once we’ve re-organized ourselves and got back into some sort of fighting shape. “I know it was a bit awkward to get that air support in the first time, but once you got that down… first class strafes from whoever you called in. Nice job grabbing Hilly over there as well, risky but it paid off… everyone else, good actions on from you ponies, you did what you were meant to and got the fire down where it counted. It was a pig of an ambush, but we’re out of it now and once Doc has pronounced Hilly fit to travel, we’ll continue on our route back to base.” Corporal Punishment takes a moment to turn her head and take a sip from her camelbak.
Unlike the rest of us, who are wearing combat helmets, Corporal Punishment is wearing the dark blue Lunar Guard beret with its distinctive silver bat-moon badge blacked out so as not to shine. She’s wearing a pair of tactical goggles, the same array of information that we get projected upon our helmet visor projected by her goggles, and she gets the same targeting monocle as we do. Whilst it’s against uniform regulations, no one really cares in the field. Corporal Punishment has always been one for bending or outright breaking the rules as needed for her work, as evidenced by the fact she’s still a corporal despite ten years in the Equestrian army.
“Right ponies, form up and we’ll move out.” Corporal Punishment orders and we turn and start to move, the other guardsponies forming up into formation, Hilly clambering to his hooves to move out with us. Nopony wants to be carried off the field after all; that’s of the traditions that the ancient Honour-Guard of Nightmare Moon imparted to us.
We march onwards, the weight of my saddle starting to dig in. Like most of the ponies around me, I’m dressed for combat and my saddle reflects that, along with the amount of weight I’m carrying. I’m wearing solid ceramic armour plating over my barrel, neck and legs along with the helmet, over which goes a combat saddle which contains all the things I’ll need for battle. I’m carrying food and water for seventy-two hours, individual first aid kit plus the advanced computer systems required for the sling and helmet to link my weapon to the helmet monocle in a seamless extension of my will. Then you add to that the specialist equipment that I’m carrying as a FASTAC to allow me to talk the attack pegasi onto target and you get an idea of quite how heavy this equipment is. All this is done up in green, brown and black arranged into a funny pixelated design, as opposed to the tan and green and grey brushstroke pattern that the rest of the Equestrian army wear.
I flap my wings experimentally as we continue trotting onwards into the dawn, along MSR Canterlot and out of the valley of death, towards a hill that rises gently from the fields and treelines surrounding it. At the top of the hill is Forward Operating Base Nocturne, our base of operations for this exercise. A series of barns and brick buildings that have obviously been made with a farming community in mind, have been converted into a makeshift forward operating and rearming point, with barricades and watchtowers built around the perimeter of the FOB itself. Overhead a pair of pegasi slowly circle in a slow and lazy orbital pattern, the whisper of the wind over their wings a soft melody. The light of the dawn splashes the barns with crimson as the sun rises over Birch Ranges. Slowly we make our way up the hill. The night’s activities have taken it out of all of us; we were on a rather painful patrol that started at 1700 yesterday afternoon, a patrol that took us from one end of Birch Ranges to the other seeing neither hide nor hoof of the enemy. We’d expected the patrol to end without incident, in fact, having expected one of the other platoons to establish some form of in depth security. If the enemy can move armour around within a mile of our home base with impunity…
I sigh and shake my head, not sharing my worries with the others, not when we’re nearly at base. They’re smart enough; they should have an idea of what enemy armour within a mile of our base can mean, particularly for an infantry company like ours. I’m deep in thought as we cross the field, climbing the hill and advancing upon the FOB, the flag of the Princess of the Night flying proudly over Nocturne.
Once through the gates and into the FOB, Corporal Punishment gestures with a hoof.
“Right ponies. Fill your waterbottles and camelbaks and replenish your batteries… then take a pew over there by that hay pile and wait whilst I see what’s kicking, Bastion is in charge.” Corporal Punishment say firmly.
I nod quickly as Punishment turns and trots off towards the farmhouse where the command post has been established, the others heading over to one of the covered carts and starting to distribute sets of batteries among themselves. I wander over and join them, taking a couple of packets for myself. Whilst magic is a critical part of our arsenal, even those of us who aren’t unicorns have had enchantments placed upon our equipment here or there, electricity is just as important, and running the batteries down could be fatal, so every soldier carries plenty of spare batteries for his equipment.
As we fill our webbing and vests and re-fill our canteens and saddles, the rest of the section chatter amongst themselves and I slowly learn more about the disparate group of ponies that I've joined less than a week ago. Lance corporal Glancing 'Bouncer' Blow is the next senior pony after myself, and he's a very competent stallion despite the fact he's only been in the Lunar Guards for a year and a half. He's apparently a very knowledgeable pony when it comes to regimental history of not only our own regiment but almost every regiment in the Equestrian army. He's also very finicky about uniform and likes to make sure everything is just so, according to Guards-pony 'Breezy' Autumn Breeze, the youngest member of our section at just sixteen. One of our resident unicorns, she's also the comedienne of the section, with a sharp joke or a whiplike come-back for almost anything. Like Glancing Blow, Autumn Breeze is an educated pony, though she doesn't say where she went to school. However her crisp Canterlot drawl tells a story all of its own.
Guards-pony 'G-D' Apple stands at the other end of the spectrum, a tall powerfully built golden yellow earth pony with a leafy green mane who refuses to confirm or deny whether he's related to The Apple family is our taciturn support gunner, the large weapon hanging easily off his sling.
Guards-ponies 'Phal' Phalanx and 'Fatty' Broadsword are next, two ponies who opted to change their names when the Lunar guard gave them the opportunity and I ask no further questions lest I invade their privacy, however it doesn't escape my notice that both wear thin whiplike scars through their steely grey fur. Last but no means least is Guards-pony 'Hilly' Mossy Hill, yet another unicorn and our resident sapper. He's also one of the most accident prone ponies in the regiment according to Autumn Breeze. Watching them talking and laughing and fooling around as soldiers do, I smile faintly. These ponies have all proved themselves today, and they're exalting in coming out of the fire with their honour intact.
We slowly spread out, collapsing upon the hay pile to enjoy a moment of relaxation in the field. Not a pony among us would not consider that rest well and truly earned, and as we flip up our visors and monocles and let our weapons hang loose, I unfurl my wings, stretching them out to allow the feathers to breathe and the other two pegasi among our section do the same, content to enjoy the moment. As we relax and the good natured banter flows, I allow myself to think back on how I managed to wind up here.
My history with Her Lunar Majesty’s Royal Rifle Regiment began five years ago when I walked into an armed forces recruitment office intending to join the Royal Guard, or the Grenadier Guards Canterlot and Hoofshire Regiment as it is known. However as I set my hoof through the door, I found a couple of pegasi dressed in uniforms I’d never seen before. Rather than the tan working dress uniforms of the Equestrian army or the ceremonial golden armor of the Royal Guard, these two pegasi were dressed in jet black dress uniform jackets with silver on their shoulder boards and midnight blue cuff-titles with silver edging.
To my sixteen-year old eyes, those uniforms were the coolest things I’d ever seen. I approached them and asked them a few questions, and I soon found out that they were NCOs in the newly constituted Lunar Guard Regiment, which struck me as odd. I’d seen Lunar Guards before, and they were distinctive, to say the least, with those bright golden eyes and bat wings. However the two guardsponies explained that the armor carried an enchantment to make the pegasi of the company look like batponies, and non-pegasi were simply kept out of ceremonial duty.
Half an hour later they’d sold me on joining the Lunar guards instead of the Royal Guard. Joining hadn't been an easy process, despite the fact that the regiment was under-strength; the NCOs and officers intended those joining to be up to the task of guarding the Lunar Princess, in addition to meeting the Lunar Guard Regiment’s commitments on the battlefield. The result was a regiment with six companies rather than five, one company dedicated to the personal security of the Princess and the other five companies tasked with ceremonial duties in addition to our battlefield role. It also resulted in the most lethal regiment in the Equestrian army, made up as it was of the best NCOs from the regular army, a pool of young and aggressive talent and a patron who took an aggressive interest in our wellbeing and development as a regiment and as individual soldiers.
Before joining the army, I didn’t have a hope in hell of amounting to anything in civvie street. I’d had a ‘challenging’ childhood, and the highlight of my school career was when I evaporated the maths classroom’s roof on a dare. This itself wouldn’t have been a problem had a Prench class not decided to stay behind after hours for extra credit. So in short, my resume upon leaving school was ‘unimpressive’. Now, six years after leaving school, I’m a corporal in Princess Luna’s Regiment with experience in a variety of disciplines that would make most of my former classmates green with envy.
I didn’t make the cut for the Nocturne Chapter and, so I was put into K company of the Regiment. I’ve been on training exercises, overseas on friendly training ops to Germaneigh, along with peacekeeping missions to the remnants of the Gryphonic kingdoms. It’s been a blast, figuratively speaking, especially for the pegasus pony who never really saw eye to eye with civvie street, particularly the civvie street embodied by my upper class Cloudsdale family, where everything I wanted could be laid on for me with just a flick of my pinions. Here however, everything I've become, I've earned with my own hooves. No-pony cares what my family name is, which suits me just fine.
It hasn't been easy of course, memories of sharp conversations with stupid NCOs and even more idiotic officers play through my head as I lie back in the hay, my eyes half hooded as I relax. More than once I've been in trouble for getting into fights with ponies from other regiments or companies who tried to take the piss out of the ponies of my old section, but then that spirit characterizes the Lunar Regiment all over. An aggressive determination to succeed, to take on all comers by any means needed and a willingness to punt the rulebook through the nearest window and follow it in, weapons blazing.
I'm distracted from my ramble down memory lane by a sudden sharp whistling. My eyes snap open and I leap to my hooves even as the other members of the section do the same. Around us there is a sudden surge of activity and energy. The mortar crew who had been sitting around opposite to us are now leaping to their hooves and grabbing shells to load into the mortars that have been brought forward for our use. Other Lunar Guards-Ponies are coming out from under the cover of the sheds that house the other platoons, weapons already armed and active. Platoon sergeants are stalking among them like sharks among the minnow and corporals are barking out orders. Sections are dashing this way and that in response to orders and a frisson of excitement and nervousness fills the air.
Corporal Punishment forces her way through the press of two platoons of ponies forming up to move out as the whistle continues to blow. “One Three, where are you?” We see her looking around the court-yard, and I gesture for my comrades to move up with me “Come on One Three form up on me!” She commands as we quickly clatter up to her, forming up in a cluster around her.
“Right ponies, short and simple, the enemy are going to be attacking our position in five minutes in overwhelming numbers.” She says frankly, “Estimated strength a full company plus armor and air support, our orders are to hold this position for as long as we can.” She grins at us, a savage predatory grin that makes me wonder if the ancient line of bat-ponies runs a little in her family, or else if she had a timberwolf for a cousin.
“I've got us front row seats, we're going to be the commander's quick reaction team, the moment that the enemy attack, we're going to be thrown in to help bolster the defence where needed.” She turns to me, “Bastion, you're staying right on my six; I'm going to need you where I can see you so you can do your job, if you need us to move then let me know, are you okay with that?”
I nod quickly as she goes on to describe what she wants everyone else to do. It's a good plan as far as plans go. Essentially it boils down to keeping me alive so I can direct my strikes to hit as needed, keep her section fast and loose to respond to threats as and when they crop up rather than getting bogged down in firefights, and inflict as much damage as we can before we get taken out. That is a plan I can work with, and I have my sights on taking out an enemy chariot or two. It won't be that hard even. This hill is a natural defensive position with excellent unobstructed sight lines across the surrounding terrain. The enemy have to gallop across open ground for minimum three hundred meters, in plain sight of our weapons until they're right under the brow of our hill. However there are natural features that make the defender's job a little more difficult. Three hundred meters to the north of the position is a wood, with dense foliage and fairly good cover for an attacker to get into position and lay down covering fire, whilst five hundred meters out to the west is Heartbreak Ridge, a natural ridge that provides excellent cover for somepony to get chariots into position. Chariots, or even gun carriages five hundred meters out could annihilate an infantry company with very little trouble. Still, they're Grenadiers and we're Lunar Guards. They won't stand a bucking chance even if they come with all the airships in Canterlot.
My confidence however is rather swiftly shaken when I ask who's commanding the enemy company. I’ve heard that General Shining Armour has recently got bored with being a prince of polished glass and decided to come back to being a leader of ponies, with his wife's blessing according to Autumn Breeze. I've never worked with Shining Armour but you don't get to be a general at his age unless you've got a clue about what you're doing, even if you're boning one princess and related by blood to another.
Corporal Punishment notices the others looking at each other nervously in response to this bit of unwelcome news and clears her throat.
“Ponies, we're the Lunar Guard, they could come with Celestia herself directing their efforts and we'd still batter them across the plains.” She growls, stamping her hoof to make her point. “We're faster, better trained and better armed than they are, we can-”
WHOOMPH.
The percussive thump of an artillery shell smashing into the ground short of the position makes the earth shake and Corporal Punishment chuckles, before raising her voice, “Right, time for making speeches later bitches, for now we make history!” She gestures with her hoof at the gate that leads out towards Heartbreak Ridge, “We're going to move out, get ourselves established behind the friendly position and await their armour... they're going to bring the armour from that side so-” Another shell screams in to detonate inside the walls of Nocturne itself, hurling a great fountain of dust and smoke skywards, interrupting Punishment who scowls but starts to gallop and we follow her out, through the gates and down, hurling ourselves down behind one of the barriers set up to the right of the gate. As far as overwatch positions go, this is as good as it's going to get with a commanding view of Heartbreak Ridge, however there’s no view of the woodland, but you can't have everything.
More artillery shells scream overhead to land among the forward positions, the powerful explosions making our ear-drums ring and the ground shake beneath each impact. However the enemy are not showing themselves, content to let their artillery earn their keep. I however have other ideas and with one wing, flick my boom microphone down in front of my muzzle.
“Birch Forward, this is Moonstrike, I'm calling in imminent Troops In Contact.” I have to shout to make myself heard over the barrage, “We're under indirect artillery fire and we suspect contact to be imminent, any assets available?”
“This is Anchor-head calling Moonstrike, looks like you owe me more cider, you alright down there!?” The mare from earlier is still as brash as ever, however I'm no less glad to hear her voice.
“Anchor-head, we’re up to our knees in shit here, I need you to hunt out artillery positions that are shelling my troops, find them and take them out.” I pause, checking my digital map for friendlies outside our own perimeter, “Your choice of ordinance and attack angle, no friendlies nearby.”
“Copy that, I'll start hunting; will get back to you when I've taken them out, Anchor-head out.” With that, I turn to start scanning for further targets, before consulting my aide-memoire. There are three pegasi attack teams assigned to us for this exercise and I've got one on tasking, the other two aren't doing anything but I'm not going to exhaust them yet. I want to keep them in reserve till I need them for GCAS strikes rather than tire the ponies out during the preliminary phases of the defence.
The artillery fire continues to rain down upon us for another half hour before ceasing abruptly. I grin, even as my radio squelches. Anchor-head sounds exhausted, but I cannot blame her in the slightest. She's more than earnt her keep today.
“Good effect on targets,” She pants. “Three self propelled gun carriages taken down, Anchor-head is RTB to rearm.”
“Copy Anchor-head, meet me after the end of the exercise for that cider,” I say gratefully, even as I hear the distant rumble of chariots drawing closer.
“You can count on it Loonies, Anchor-head out.” With that, my comm frequency goes silent and I smile slightly, glad to have taken the enemy artillery pieces off the field before they could inflict serious damage upon our position. Our mortars are still in reserve until the enemy are in the open, as are our own heavy weapons. As the chariots draw closer, I feel my heart start to pound in my ears and my knees begin to shake; my tail twitches as the adrenaline starts to rush at the prospect of a fight. Next to me, Corporal Punishment shifts her hooves irritably as she glances down the line, checking the rest of the section who are likewise looking nervous yet excited at the thought of imminent violence.
“You nervous, Corporal?” I ask with a chuckle and she tosses me an evil glare.
“In your dreams Corporal,” she replies snidely, “I just hope you don't kill them all before the rest of us get a turn.”
“Patience is a virtue my young apprentice, trust in Luna and she will provide,” I reply sanctimoniously and she sticks her tongue out at me, blowing a very loud raspberry. Before she can deliver a riposte however, a sharp crackle rips through the air as enemy infantry suddenly spring up along the top of Heartbreak Ridge, firing long bursts of suppression fire to keep our heads down. They come galloping over the ridge line, hurling smoke as they advance to mask their attack in a thick haze of white smoke. Unlike the forces we made contact with this morning, we don't have any former weather ponies in the company and so the smoke builds in thick heavy curtains. All that we can do is fire our mortars fruitlessly into the smoke. I swear and start scanning the smoke cloud for movement, even as the sudden rattling of weapons firing on my right makes it clear that the enemy are behaving as expected: attacking with a two pronged assault and trying to tie us down by engaging two sides simultaneously.
We open fire, G-D opening up with his support weapon as other Lunar Guards also start firing into the smoke, long bursts of heavy weapons fire ripping through the clouds of smoke and sending tracer rounds leaping upwards as they ricochet off shields or the ground or somepony's armour plating. All the while golden tracers fly right back into our faces, snapping and snarling around our positions. As I start counting tracer and firing points, a rather horrific realisation occurs to me. This thrust is not their main attack, only a platoon at most has been committed to this angle against two of our platoons.
“We need to go,” I say quickly to Corporal Punishment, my voice betraying my nervousness. “The enemy might be attacking on the other flank, they've only got a squad here, one platoon max.”
Punishment nods, her glance letting me know she's been thinking exactly the same thing. Instantly we're rushing to our hooves once more, galloping back through the gate into the camp and turning as quickly as we can. I suddenly hear a shrill howl, like the roar of an incoming train or a howling gale and I throw myself to the floor. I barely have time to yell out “ENEMY AIR!” before the pegasus flight team is overhead, swooping low like falcons to come in and strafe our lines. The furious growl of their chain-cannons pounds its way into our skulls and the crack of the rounds slamming into the target sounds like the crashing of thunder. We claw ourselves to our hooves and open up with our rifles, firing in vain as the hostile pegasi swiftly climb to altitudes beyond the range of our weapons.
I frantically start calling in the other two air teams to try and take these guys out, knowing that if Shining Armour has decided to commit air assets then an all out assault will not be far behind. We dash through the base, past the courtyard where the mortar team are punching round after round skywards. I can hear the furious roar of battle all around, voices shouting at other voices even as heavy weapons thunder and lighter infantry weapons crackle. The air sparkles with tracers of every color and the smell of burning ozone hangs thick in the air, along with the chemical stench of the smoke.
As we continue running, the shrill roar of the enemy air picks up again and once more we throw ourselves to our bellies as the enemy pegasi swoop in, the snarl of their weapons joined by a furious crash as the roof of one of the sheds collapses under the weight of their fire. Behind me somepony cheers and in spite of my aching legs, heavy armour and the fact I’m covered from head to hoof in mud, I’ve never felt so alive.
The enemy air is a problem and I’m determined to do something about it. I quickly dial up Birch-Forward and call in Thunder-Cloud and Thunder-Child. Both are RAF callsigns so I’m expecting both to be reasonably competent and both should know where they’re going. Having done this, I let the air-ponies know what they’re supposed to do and leap to my hooves to join the others who are dashing for the gate.
We sprint out the gate to take position opposite the wood line where the enemy are slowly pushing forward from, eschewing smoke in the favour of sheer weight of fire; two heavy repeaters are set up in the wood-line under the cover of relay shield teams. As I watch, one of the shields starts to fizzle and sputter, but right on cue the second unicorn lifts his shield, the third unicorn waiting in the wings. Great, fucking relay shields I think bitterly, knowing that a well drilled team can keep this little stunt going for up to six hours. We don't have six hours and so we start returning fire, adding our own weapons to the two platoons who are already putting rounds down on the guns and on the advancing platoons of grenadier guards-ponies. These grenadiers are slowly advancing, carefully putting up shields to cover their assault forward and moving by bounds.
However the one thing they haven't plotted for is about to happen. Our own unicorn stoops down and snatches up a series of pebbles to hold them firmly in her magic. She then hurls them all at once at the advancing infantry-ponies. The infantry’s shields fizzle and die under multiple kinetic impacts and our own guards-ponies rapidly seize the advantage and switch fire, cutting down one section in a withering rain of purple tracer and forcing the remaining three sections to withdraw with heavy casualties, crying foul as they flee.
The gun team however is made of sterner stuff, increasing their rate of fire to force us back into cover as thier mates gallop back behind their own lines to regroup. Whilst Autumn Breeze is a good shot with her rocks, she can't project them three hundred meters with the force required to break three layers of shields.
“Where'd you learn that trick?” I ask, astounded and Autumn Breeze grins.
“Magical Theory class,” She replies, panting from the effort. “You throw enough rocks at a shield at once, it overwhelms the shield.”
I nod, understanding it vaguely. It sounds like physics, which is something that all pegasi should have a reasonably good grasp of, gravity being such an influence in our lives. However I don't need to think about it right now, since the enemy are now setting up positions with their colleagues and have started putting down fire, casting their shields to form an impenetrable shield wall and what thier fire lacks in accuracy it more than makes up for in sheer volume.
Great.
Again, I get that sinking feeling. The enemy have only committed two and a half platoons here, and whilst that is a respectable number for a main offensive, they don't have any armour support and their air is getting chewed up. A quick glance skyward tells me that the battle in the air is going well, our pegasi are beating theirs. It looks like we have this situation all wrapped up. As famous last words go, those will take some beating.
The snarl of chariot weapons is the first thing that lets me know something is wrong. The loud steady pounding of enemy chariot cannon fills the air as the Armoured Pony Support Vehicles open fire on our southern flank. Our defences are concentrated on the north and west, those being the points that everypony expects an attack from and those are the points from whence an attack came. Nopony attacks from the south, it's open ground from start to finish for eight hundred metres, a killing field for anypony who can put down enough fire. However Shining Armour is now making his play and he's brought his armour forward for the job. I turn and start galloping for the southern side of the fortress, Corporal Punishment and the rest of the section charging in behind me.
We round the corner and I rapidly see how bad the situation is, just before the enemy spot me and try to take my head off. Sixty ponies plus armour are heading our way. Shining Armour has committed everything he has to this thrust, including his HQ element which will mean General Shining Armour himself is down there somewhere, leading from the front. I quickly dart behind cover and start dialling up the air. However an unpleasant shock greets me the moment I reach Birch Forward.
“No air assets are available anymore, Moonstrike. Part of the parameters of the exercise.” My eyebrows knit in confusion. My air assets have not been shot down, the air assets that are still overhead are ours and they're heading back to base, the enemy air assets are now down... so why aren't we allowed any more air? I roll my eyes and try not to swear into the microphone. Birch is just doing his job and it must be pretty thankless, however that doesn't mean I'm happy about it.
“Copy that Birch, Moonstrike out,” I say shortly and flick the microphone out of my face. Without that air support, we don't have anything that can take on enemy armour on equal terms, except anti chariot missiles. That being said, we're not going to go down quietly. I quickly get in behind cover and then pop my head out to scan for a target. I spot a pegasus who is lagging just behind the formation, obviously out of shape. You’re going to fuckin’ have some I think. I quickly take aim and fire, the first set of rounds rip over the top of the small shields the unicorns have put up and slam into the pegasus, sending him sprawling to the ground, red dust blooming from the impact.
The enemy response is murderous, a wall of golden tracer snaps up to greet us as they start malleting our position with everything they have: chain guns, rocket launchers and small-arms all opening up to smash this small section of Lunar Guards. I actually feel quite flattered that they're making this much of an effort to kill us. That being said, it's bloody annoying not being able to return fire. However we do our best, hunching as low as ponies can in bulky combat armor and darting out to fire a burst before darting back in again behind the cover which is starting to disintegrate under the withering onslaught. It's a good strategy and one that pays dividends in forcing the enemy to use care as they advance, a steady trickle of manpower draining away as our own rounds score hits. But then their rounds score hits too, and the losses are felt more keenly among eight than among sixty. G-D gets knocked out fairly early on, staying out in the open when he should have got into cover like any sensible pony would have done and it doesn't take long before an enemy manages to slot a round into his armour, then a second and then a third; the spells woven into the training rounds splashing red dust over the earth pony and knocking him out cold. Other ponies soon follow, the enemy fire becoming more lethal as they draw closer and our own fire weakens. Soon it's just me, Autumn Breeze and Corporal Punishment.
“Corp, I have an idea.” I suggest, and Corporal Punishment raises an eyebrow from her position next to me.
“I'm listening, Bastion,” She growls, making my adrenaline fueled smile widen.
“Boss, we're fucked aren't we, we've got no air and no armour support... we're going to lose this exercise anyway, right?”
“In a nutshell yes, what're you suggesting?” She asks, intrigued.
“Well... can you and Autumn cast that invisibility spell?” I ask and Punishment grins and nods.
“Yes, so what're you suggesting, we cloak up and get into another position to hit them?”
“Not exactly,” I reply. “We wait for them to take the fort, cloaked up and all, then we'll see if His Nibs shows up in the fort... if he does then we'll try and take him out before they call an end to the exercise?”
Corporal Punishment's grin is absolutely feral and I can see that Autumn is likewise rather enthusiastic about the idea.
“What about him?” Autumn asks, gesturing at me and Punishment shrugs. I can see why Autumn might have misgivings, I'm not a unicorn and so I can't make myself invisible, and the ability to fly isn't exactly welcome here.
“I can get him under a cloak, but only for about thirty seconds at a time.” Punishment's tone is dubious and I grimace as I check my weapon over.
“Don't worry, there's plenty of hiding places in there, particularly after you've torn down one of the buildings to make it look like they blew it up,” I suggest after a moment's thought and Punishment nods, obviously liking the sound of this.
“Sounds like a plan, let's do it.” She replies.
With that, we withdraw as quickly as we can, pulling back behind the wall. Inside the FOB is a madhouse with ponies sprinting this way and that, carrying more batteries for this or more shells for that as the mortars are laying down enough fire for ten. They're throwing water over the barrels of thier weapons, which are starting to glow. Our headquarters element is already laying down fire from the upper windows of the Command Post, whilst a storm-group comprising of the company chef, the padre and two medical orderlies. They sprint past us into the southern position that we’ve just vacated, the chef still wielding a spatula with his magic and a machine pistol with the sling. They and we both know they're fucked but they move in anyway.
We rush to the command post, forcing our way past the curtain to find Major Shattered Lance standing at a map table, his company second in command and his company sargeant major with him. He looks like a broken stallion, and I can see why. The enemy are advancing on all fronts, our perimeter is contracting and we're on the wrong side of a supposed-to-lose fight. Last stands suck for those unfortunate enough to be caught in them.
“What do you want?” He growls and I explain what I have in mind to him. Shattered Lance's mouth curls upwards into a smile, the kind of smile that would have mothers dragging their children off the streets in terror. The notion of going out with a bang appeals to him rather more than it should. He knows the sensible thing to do is surrender, to save the notional lives of the ponies under his command.
We're Lunar-Guard. We don't surrender to any-pony, ever. I think, going down fighting is our way and always has been, even back when we were Nightmare Moon’s Life Guard cavalry. Hence why there are no Bat-Ponies anymore.
“Do it,” he growls “Make sure you capture that smug prick's face on film when you do.”
With that, he dismisses us to plan the rest of his doomed defence, the smile fading as we charge out of his office to find somewhere more appropriate to hide. It doesn't take us long to find a suitably ruined building and it takes even less time for Punishment and Autumn to set the three of us up underneath the rubble in such a way that only a very careful observer will be able to spot that there are actually ponies hiding in the ruins and from there we watch the battle continue towards its doomed conclusion.
The chef’s desperate defense of the southern gate will go down in regimental legend as he laid down fire with G-D’s machine gun, hurling army biscuits at the advancing enemy troops with his magic and singing all the while. I'll never be able to listen to the Regimental Anthem with a straight face again.
B company manages to hold out for much longer than anticipated, taking two more long and gruelling hours of brutal fighting as they force the grenadiers to pay dearly for every yard of ground that they manage to take. However as the casualties mount, their defence becomes weaker and the enemy press the advantage, using armour to hammer strong-points and smash bastions of resistance. The climax, a ruthless battle over the CP where quarter is neither asked for nor given, is worthy of a Final Cut film as our soldiers fight desperately for every last inch of ground. However the result is inevitable, and eventually the CP is taken down, leaving us still in the fortress, alive and unseen.
The wait for Shining Armour then begins. The grenadiers, having wiped out the CP, are obviously expecting end-ex, or end of exercise to be called. In their eyes, they've just taken the last bastion of the New Lunar Republic and so the exercise should be over, the briefing clearly stating that end-ex will be called when we're all dead. Thus, the ponies start to mill around pointlessly, sitting down to do admin or go and chat with their mates, rather than start sweeping the fortress to make sure it's clear. The chariot teams even dismount their vehicles to get a cup of tea going. Nopony likes amateurs- I think. Hidden away in the rubble, we silently watch. Nopony dares twitch or whisper or even breathe loudly. The enemy are trotting right past our position, so close that we can feel the vibration of their hoof steps as they trot past us, gassing about and getting admin done.
Half an hour after the last Lunar Guards-pony has been supposedly cleared from the fortress, Shining Armour appears looking irritable. The Lunar Guards who were 'killed' during the exercise have got up and gathered together in a corner of the FOB and they are likewise getting a brew on. They're just as surprised as the Grenadiers that the exercise has not been ended. Shining Armour trots over to Shattered Lance and offers him a hoof shake, which is dutifully returned, though we cannot hear what words pass between the two senior officers. Eventually, Shattered Lance starts to lead General Armour towards our position.
Prince-Consort General Shining Armour is not actually quite as imposing as his reputation would have us believe. He's a large pony with a deep blue mane with electric blue streaks running through it, and his fur would ordinarily be white though like the rest of us, his has been stained brown by the dust and mud and gunfire. His bright blue eyes gleam and he's actually got quite an infectious smile. His armour is mussed and muddied just like that of the ponies under his command, and the rifle under his chin has the distinctive pale dust upon the barrel where it's been fired quite a bit. Magical residue or something from the training ammunition we use, I don't care too much.
What I do care about is that he's drawing closer to our position, being drawn forward by Major Lance. He's laughing now, laughing at a joke that his own company sergeant major has told him. He looks a little more at ease now, no one's yet suggested to him that there might still be Lunar Guards in the fortress. My knees flex and I take a deep breath as he draws nearer. He's close now, fifty metres or less. My breath catches in my chest, my heart pounding.
“Take out the CSM, then just blow away as many as you can,” Corporal Punishment mutters and I shake my head.
“I'm going for the General, you hit the CSM, Autumn... fuck up whoever's closest.” I say.
“Sounds like a plan,” Autumn whispers as Shining Armour draws nearer. Her horn starts to glow as she prepares the incantation that will breach us out of here.
Shining Armour stops, barely ten metres away from our position. He's so close I can almost hear him breathing. His nostrils tighten slightly and I realise with horror that he can feel Autumn's magic. With that, the time for thinking is over. Autumn hurls her charm at the tightly woven lattice holding the rubble off of us. The rubble erupts outwards. We rise from the rubble in one flowing movement, the world slowing down to a crawl as we rise to our hooves. Every sound hangs in my ears as I bring my weapon up, zeroing it in on Shining Armour's neck and face. His mouth opens but no sound emerges. I squeeze the firing toggle, depressing it firmly and holding it down.
The sling jerks against my neck, the weapon vibrating as it fires, the bright purple light of my weapon flashing in General Shining Armour's eyes, my muzzle flash reflected in his monocle. His own weapon is coming up but it's too slow, he's not ready. His horn sparks as he tries to summon one of his infamous shields but he's too late. Red dust blossoms as the rounds strike home at point blank range and Prince-Consort General Shining Armour, commander of the Grenadier Guards Canterlot and Hoofshire Regiment and protector of the Crystal Empire collapses like a puppet whose strings have been cut. I'm aware of words coming from my mouth but I don't know what those words are.
Next to him, the broad and bulky sergeant major is likewise going down, red dust billowing from his torso. Other ponies are running this way and that, levelling weapons at us but we're already firing and more red dust flows as pony after pony is hit. Then I feel a powerful slap to my flank as a Grenadier finds his mark, my own knees buckle and I collapse to the ground as more shots slam into me, the roar of weapons fire filling my ears. As I collapse to the ground, I can vaguely hear another roaring. The whooping cheers of Night Guards-Ponies are audible even over the clatter of weapons fire as my vision starts to turn grey and the world fades to black as the stunning spell built into the training rounds takes hold.
The last thought that crosses my mind is a satisfied, Job Done.
__
The two princesses gaze into the recovery room, their faces grim as they gaze at the storm-cloud grey pegasus with a short black mane that has been cropped close down the neck. The pegasus's wings and fur show signs of damage, patches of skin are visible where fur has been scorched away. The pegasus is asleep, an oxygen mask clamped over his face. The machines strapped to the pony blip and hum gently as they take various samples. Long leads hang from the pony to the machines. Stacked in one corner is a battered and cracked set of combat armour, scorched and charred from the heavy onslaught of fire that it had taken. Ceramic is strong, but nopony expected it to withstand the kind of punishment that the Grenadiers inflicted upon it. Five hundred rounds of training ammunition were fired into plating designed to take a maximum of two hundred and fifty over the course of its operational life.
The two alicorns are very different from each other in appearance. One is a rich midnight blue where the other is a brilliant pale pink in colour, and the first has a long flowing deep blue mane that glitters with stars whilst the second princess has a simple tri-coloured mane that hangs down her neck in glorious curls. To look upon them, none would know they were related. Princess Luna, the ultimate commanding authority in all matters concerning her beloved regiment, is not happy at all. “What news do the doctors bring?” She asks her niece.
“He will make a full recovery.” Princess Cadence says after a second “Corporal Bastion is very lucky indeed, as are his two colleagues. His radio and vest took most of the fire, as did the camouflaged fabric over his wings.” The periwinkle coloured mare extends a wing, folding it over her aunt who sighs and relaxes into the comforting gesture, her starry mane billowing slowly and languidly, her expression drawn and mournful. Princess Luna sighs softly “Those are glad tidings Mi-Amore Cadenza and thy words should inspire me to joy, yet I cannot find it in my heart to be joyous to see my soldiers in so grim a state.”
“Shining Armour sends his apologies-”
“None are needed, the Grenadiers acted properly to neutralise the threat though their fire discipline could stand to improve. Nay I do not hold he or his regiment to fault for this. Accidents happen in training, this is an accepted fact among military professionals. So was it before my exile and so it is now. However that makes it no easier to see my sworn defenders laid up for feats of bravado intended to win my favour.” The Night princess sighs mournfully, her tail twitching faintly.
“Am I such a ruler, Mi-Amore Cadenza, that my subjects would commit feats of suicidal bravery for naught but my approval, Am I a bad pony because I approve of this... stunt?” She turns to the princess of Love, who sighs comfortingly.
“Princess, no one blames you for this, or your regiment... the Lunar Regiment is well known as a bunch of hard-flanks who like pushing themselves.” Cadence says reassuringly “And I suppose, from a military standpoint, there's a lot to approve of?” The last part is more a question, Cadence does not command troops or have her own personal regiment, much like Twilight Sparkle does not have personal forces. It sets a bad precedent and could lead to local lordlings forming their own armies. Luna nods grimly, her mouth setting into a thin line.
“From a military standpoint, there is much to approve of. I lost three additional ponies and a position that would have fallen anyway in exchange for a general of the enemy forces. The company that I lost defending such a place is easier to replace by far than a pony of Shining Armour's stature. Not only do the enemy lose a valuable and experienced commander, but the damage to their morale is equally crippling.” Luna says, placing a wistful hoof upon the glass of the treatment room, then her eyes flick upward to Cadence's own eyes which are flickering around nervously.
“Thou be more tense than a farmer a'fore the swarming season, there is something thou art keeping from me Cadence.” Luna says archly after a moment, and Cadence sighs, finding no easy way to say what she needs to.
“His wings took most of the fire, and the doctors... well they do not think he will ever fly for a while.” The Alicorn says sadly and Luna nods shortly, her face falling. Cadance clears her throat quickly, trying to find something positive to ease her aunt's poor mood.
“It’s not that bad, they say he could fly in six months or so, it’ll just take a while before he’s fully flight capable.”
“I see, my thanks Mi-Amore Cadenza, and also my gratitude to thee for thy sweet words, they are a much-desired solace to me in these sore times.” Luna's head drops and her wings droop upon her back, her mane's languid flow slowing to a crawl. Cadence sighs gently.
“It is not as bad as it could have been.” Luna says suddenly, her head rising as she turns to look at Cadence with some concern. “Thy husband, Shining Armour, he also took-”
“Shining Armour's fine, his pride is about the only thing that the dumb colt hurt today,” Cadence cuts across her elder, her tone frank “I told him he should stay back and let the company commanders do their job, maybe now he will actually listen... Oh, I'm sorry, that sounded-”
“Nay Mi-Amore Cadenza, thou art right to look for the brightness in such matters, and it is good that thy husband will be where generals ought, thou art his wife and thou does not wish him to come to harm in his occupation.”
“You are too wise for your own good auntie.” Cadence grumbles and Luna chuckles weakly.
“It comes with years Mi-Amore Cadenza, however though I appreciate thy effort to give me succour, I would ask thou to give me peace for a moment.” Luna sighs softly and Cadence nods grimly, before turning on her hooves and trotting mournfully down the corridor, leaving Luna gazing into the treatment room at the bed of Corporal Bastion, B Company, Her Lunar Majesty's Royal Regiment and very nearly the first pony to die in her service for a thousand years.
The corridor is silent but for the gasping sobs of the Princess of the Night.
I open my eyes slowly, my head spinning. My whole world feels like jelly on a plate, writhing and whirling out of control. I inhale deeply and a machine by my right ear rasps loudly, and a sour tasting gas is suddenly pumped into my face. I slowly raise a hoof, the movement slow and painful. I'm no stranger to pain in its various forms and I'm well aware of the difference between achy muscles and actual pain. This is actual pain that blossoms across my back from the roots of my wings up and down my spine and along the leading edges of my wings. White fire dances before my eyes and I gasp, the machine at my bedside wheezing as it pumps something into my face. I groan and then slowly reach for my face, trying to locate this thing strapped to my face. My hoof meets rubber, I follow it along my muzzle until it meets the elasticated strap of a mask of some kind then I bring my hoof forward to the tip of my muzzle, where I find a rubberised hose extending from the mask..
I open my eyes, determined to find out where I am. The room is white, cold and sterile. The walls are a bilious shade of turquoise and the black and white tiled floor confirms my grim suspicions. I'm in a hospital of some kind, and judging by the ancient equipment and machinery by my bedside: it's a military hospital. I turn my head slowly, the mask limiting my freedom of movement. A small squat table sits at my bedside, loaded down with fruit and flowers of varying kinds, along with get-well cards, most of which are from my company although I notice one from Shining Armour and another from each one of the Princesses among the tasteless riot of colour that occupies my bedside table. I shift in my bed, reaching for the mask.
“I've got that.” The voice is firm but kind. It is also familiar. A mint green pegasus pony with a golden mane dressed in the loose fitting green flight-suit of an aerial attack pony steps into my field of view. “Just hold still you stupid Loonie and I'll get that off you nice and quick.” She leans in and tugs firmly at the ring on the mask with her teeth and starts to pull, the mask's elastic putting up quite a fight as it digs into the back of my head. I bite my lip, knowing I won't scream or shout, no matter how much it hurts; Not in the presence of a mare anyway.
She pulls the mask away and throws it to the side, grinning at me. I know I've heard her voice somewhere before, however my memory doesn't quite serve. She then turns to me and drops down onto her haunches.
“You didn't think you'd get away with skipping out on that cider you owe me?” The pegasus says brightly and memory washes back in a foul painful tide of bile and gunfire.
“You're Anchor-head,” I say, my voice rather weaker than I would like and the pegasus nods with a grin.
“Good guess, that's me alright, though the name's Lightning Dust.” The pony says brightly and I grimace as I try to sit up, pain slicing across my barrel.
“Nice to meet you *ha* I think,” I cough, a series of racking coughs shaking my shoulders, “I think I may have to have a rain check on the cider though. As you can see I've neglected to bring some with me... you can have some of the flowers though.” I offer her one of the larger bouquets and she takes it with a hoof, before slowly plucking one of the flowers from the stalk and crunching on it idly.
“Thanks... you know you've really stirred up the hornet's nest,” Lightning Dust says brightly “The Loonie who shot General Armour in the face... that poor stallion won't be taken seriously for weeks.” She seems to find the notion rather amusing and in fairness it is sort of funny to see Shining Armour get taken down a peg or two, even if he's not exactly a bad pony. He's a general first and foremost, the commander of a regiment, he should not be leading troops from the front, or at least not from the cutting edge. That being said, my intention was never to do lasting harm to the stallion's career.
“They looking to replace him?” I ask and she shakes her head, laughing
“Not over that little mishap silly, it'll take a lot worse to replace that stallion.” Lightning Dust leans back slightly, before taking a deep breath and her gaze flicks across my bed.
“What can I do for you?” I ask after the silence lengthens.
She coughs “I'm guessing you haven't done your FASTAC book, that little notepad that you all carry around with you?”
I mutter something unprintable as I remember the pile of paperwork that I'll need to fill out when I'm released from the hospital, a pile of documentation documenting both of the strikes I called in, documentation that will be used to grade not just me, but the pegasi who carried out the strikes.
“Yeah... that hasn't been done yet, why are you interested?” I ask, then realisation hits me. The first control I performed with her, when she came in and took out the chariot on the road, it was an illegal control. I didn't call her in or give her permission to fire and now she wants to cover her flank. She grimaces and blushes.
“You were too busy playing hero to do your job and talk to me, so we need to talk about what your report's going to say.”
“So you want me to falsify military information that could be used in a court of law to cover up an illegal ground strike danger close to friendly units?”
“Pretty much.”
“Cool, alright, write down what you want me to say and I'll get it squared away... m'am.” I look closer at the mint-green pegasus and I spot the golden shoulder bars and rings of a Royal Navy officer rather than the expected bar-codes of an RAF commissioned rank.
“Excellent, nice to see an NCO who knows his trade-” She begins, before I cut her off.
“If you'll go out for dinner with me when I'm released, ma'am.” I add, a broad smile crossing my muzzle. It's been a while since I've enjoyed the company of a mare after all. Lightning Dust chuckles and nods, her grin becoming saucy.
“Always thinking with your stick, typical colt, but sure, why the fuck not.” She pulls out a notepad from her saddlebags, flicking it out with a wing and together the two of us talk through the report, altering the details and changing the story as needed. An illegal control danger close to friendly forces becomes a danger close high priority control with enemy forces in close proximity. We don't even alter the events at all, just use a different word or change a meaning here or there. As we go through the report, I get to know Lightning Dust as a pony. She's a dropout of the Wonderbolt Academy, now a commissioned officer in the Royal Navy's 808th Naval Air Squadron, flying in air support roles or air superiority as depending on the brief. She's a dangerous pony who lives life in the fast lane and has even less time for rules and regs than I do. Aggressive, hyper-competent and ambitious as all hell. It doesn't hurt that as far as pegasi go, she's not a bad looker either.
We're still talking two hours later, when my next visitor comes in.
Princess Luna has a lot of titles. Princess of the Night, Defender of the Darkness, Ruler of Shadows and Protector of Canterlot to name but a few. However to me and to the other ponies of the Night Guard Regiment, she will always be The Boss, Boss-Mare, or Ma'am. Nopony in our regiment calls her 'Your Majesty'. To our knowledge, she doesn't mind.
The Boss looks pleased as she trots into my room, waving her hoof when Lightning Dust rises to her feet to sit the other pegasus down. Her mane is flowing naturally in the slow languid flow that comes when she's relaxed, and the stars are glittering like tiny beacons in her mane, another sign that she's in a good mood. Her bright turquoise eyes glitter with mischief and joy in equal measure. Her midnight blue coat practically gleams and her hoof boots and crown have been polished to a mirror shine.
“Ah, the architect of Shining Armour's downfall walks amongst the living once more!” Princess Luna's voice is bright and exuberant. “It gladdens our heart to see thee awake Corporal, thy actions shall live on in the history of our regiment and in after-dinner anecdotes for all of time. Truly thou hast wrought the impossible by laying low Shining Armour,” She trots over to my bed, sitting down on the opposite side to Lightning Dust, who clambers to her hooves and makes for the exit, leaving the half eaten flowers behind.
The Boss watches Lightning Dust leave, then turns to me, her voice becoming grim.
“Corporal, it pleases me to see thou art once more awake and sensible, truly we had feared for thy health,” Princess Luna says. “Thou absorbed enough rounds to strike a stronger stallion dead, thou art truly a lucky pony.” Luna's eyes flick downwards to my barrel and I tilt my head, remembering how Lightning Dust had done the same. Luna then scrunches her wings very slightly in sympathy and my confusion grows. I watch as the Princess of the Night clears her throat.
“Thou art lucky, yet unlucky in the same breath.” She says after a moment “Thou dost live a pegasus, but thy wings... thy wings took the majority of the hurt Corporal.” Luna's voice becomes soft and sad as she gazes sympathetically down at me. “Thou doest yet live and thou shall walk out of this hospital thanks to the skill of our surgeons, yet those surgeons were unable to save thy wings. I am truly sorry.”
My breath catches in my chest and I reel as though the Princess has just kicked me. My world wavers as I feel my vision clouding. I take deep breaths, reaching out to grab onto a fragment of my prior life as a pegasus pony, yet nothing is coming. I try to steady my breathing and keep myself under control. I will not cry, not in front of The Boss.
“There are other considerations.” Luna's tone hardens, her voice smashing through the doubts flowing around my head. “Thy plan was a good one, it achieved its intended objective and were this a war, I would be adding thy name to the Roll of Honour and giving thou a posthumous decoration. Yet this is not war, this is exercise, and two other ponies are in hospital because they helped thee execute thy brave but ultimately foolish stunt.”
Luna's tone is sharp enough to cut diamond and my head hangs low. I should have considered that before I threw myself and my comrades headfirst into danger.
“Thou shouldst consider thyself lucky that neither of them are so badly damaged as thee: they will resume normal service within the week. For thee however... Thou art brave and reckless, not stupid, nay you are an intelligent pony however... thy recklessness is a problem. It could get thyself killed or worse, thy comrades. I have decided that thy service in my regiment is no longer required.”
My mouth drops open in horror, my eyes widening as the last shreds of my world tumble from my grasping hooves, tumbling slowly out of my reach and into the abyss. “Thou mayest keep thy uniform however, and thy treasured blue beret. Thou shalt need both of them in thy new posting.”
My eyes widen, my descent halted with a brutal yank.
“You're not getting rid of me?” I whisper, but the Lunar Princess laughs.
“Good gracious no Corporal, thou art too useful to be disposed of. Nay the Crown is not dispensing with your services... instead we are directing them into a more suitable vein for thy talents. I wouldst explain more to thee, but there is another here who can do a better job than I.” The Princess of the Night turns and clears her throat.
“Chaos!” She calls into the hallway “I have need of thee.”
The stallion that trots into the room is a tall slender Unicorn, with rich tan fur and a short well groomed russet brown mane. A well maintained walrus moustache bristles across his upper lip. He's dressed in a loose fitting dark green Princess' Rifle Regiment polo shirt, though he clearly isn't in the Rifles anymore if he's wearing civilian clothes on base. His bright blue eyes gleam with mischief, as though he's in on a prank that the universe is planning on playing on everypony else. I've met soldiers like him in my time in the Night-Guards, when they would come in to teach us about certain subjects that couldn't be attended to in-house. The way they carried themselves, and the fact they got to carry whatever weapons they liked, not to mention they got priority for whatever kind of assets they needed. Needless to say, we all wanted to be them.
The Eclipse are a group of soldiers who are well known and at the same time shrouded in mystery. Nopony knows precisely what they do or who they are. All that is known is that they're superb operators who do not generally leave loose ends hanging, and can strike from almost anywhere at any time. Up until twenty years ago, Eclipse were generally a footnote in Equestrian military annals, an anonymous unit shrouded in secrecy. Then Operation Stalker happened and Eclipse became a household name, a byword for Equestrian military excellence. Now there's an Eclipse operator in the room with me, I'm sure of it. It doesn't hurt that his mark is literally an eclipse.
Chaos trots up to the foot of my bed, as Luna climbs down from her seat. “I shall leave you two to your business.” She says politely and this stallion, 'Chaos', nods at the princess as she glides out, shutting the door behind her.
“Morning fellah.” Chaos says, his rich south-Trottingham accent grating slightly upon my ears “Glad ta see yer up Corporal, 's been quite a faakin' to-do over with the Golden-Geese on yer account.” His broad smile makes it plain that this particular pony considers that no bad thing. “That was some cheeky stunt you pulled, put the wind right up the regiment's training staff... I'll just say now, that no faakin' way would you have got away with that if you'd been up against my old regiment, but that's neither here nor there at this point.” He picks up the bouquet of half-eaten flowers that Lightning Dust had been eating when Princess Luna walked in and inspects it for a few moments before he leans in and tears the head off one of the bigger blooms, chewing thoughtfully.
“Somepony's already eaten some of that one, you can have this one-” I reach over with one hoof but Chaos shakes his head quickly as he swallows a mouthful and sets it aside.
“Nah mate, I had a big breakfast, anyway we've had a look at your records and you're quite the pony. Good words from everypony that matters, plus tour experience.”
“I wouldn't exactly call Gryphonia a tour, didn't get much done by way of kinetics.” I reply grimly, the memories stinking and bitter as they wash over me. Gryphonia had not been a pleasant place. We went in to assist with peacekeeping as a Combined Equine States Defence Alliance initiative after a particularly nasty bout of ethnic cleansing had picked up in Saraneighvo, which had sparked similar ethnic unrest between the other tribes of Griffons. About the only nice thing that could be said for that particular gig was that nobody, Griffon or otherwise, was shooting at us (Mostly). There was plenty of shooting going on but none of it at us, and all too often we were left picking up the pieces after one or the other tribes of gryphons decided to take lumps out of each other. Even worse, we were sometimes watching them knock seven bales of shit out of each other but we couldn't intervene due to CESDA's little decree that said we could only wipe them out if they started shooting us, so in short we were about as much use as hocks on a rock. I still have nightmares about that particular tour.
“Yeah, bollocks to that,” Chaos says bluntly. “Anypony can shoot straight if they've had their monocle zeroed properly. I need ponies who can think creatively and are willing to push their limits to beyond the breaking point. I need ponies who don't mind breaking rules and thinking for themselves. The way I see it, you Night Guards have a hard-on for that kind of thing anyway, and you're worse than most if your record is anything to go by,” He says with a smile. “Anyway, by all accounts you're competent enough to fit into Eclipse... you'll have to get past selection of course, but if you get in then you'll have plenty to do, I can promise you that,” He says, his words spinning a web of dreams before me. Already I can see myself going out on operations, calling in strikes and crawling through swamps, fighting for Equestria once more just in a more... covert role. It'll be like Daring Do. I break free of my reverie to realise Chaos is still talking.
“-So it'll be tough but I have every faith in your capabilities, you interested?” Chaos asks me and I nod emphatically, grinning.
“Yes err...” I trail off, looking for a rank marker or anything that'll tell me whether he's an officer or a noncom.
“Just Chaos will do mate.” Chaos says brightly “But that's good, give me a call once you're back on your hooves... now I'll give you a quick moment to enjoy those flowers, cheers for this bunch by the way.” He says, tossing the last scraps of the bouquet into the trash. He then levitates a business card with ECLIPSE printed on it out of his saddlebags, leaving it on my bedside table.
I look down at the business card and grin. It looks like things are going to be interesting.
Six months later.
Exercise Penumbra.- Final Exercise for Eclipse Selection. Final Day of testing. Miles down- 30, miles to go- 10. Time till end-ex: 30 minutes.
Everything hurts. I've been through some tough spots in my time, but this one really takes the daisies. My legs burn from the endless marching, my hooves are numb and even my wings ache. The sodden uniform feels like it weighs more than the absolutely titanic combat saddle I'm wearing and it chafes my skin raw, even beneath my fur. I can feel trickles of something hot and wet travelling down my legs from where the combat saddle straps have cut through the calluses that formed over the last lot of raw flesh. I've been marching non stop for the past day and a half, moving from point to point, navigating by compass and by the stars. Each hoof-step hurts like hell, but I continue to trot onwards, continuing to urge myself forwards by sheer strength of will.
I've come too far to look back now; I’ve fought too hard to get to this point to give up here. I'm ten miles from the finish, ten miles from completing the dreaded Penumbra Forty, gateway to the Eclipse. In principle, the Penumbra Forty is not too challenging. Cover forty miles in eight hours, navigating by map and compass. There’s no rest breaks or food stops, just one canteen of water and a combat saddle loaded to the absolute maximum. The Night Guard did something similar, only that was called Marauder's March. However, all that overlooks one critical detail, those forty miles are not forty miles over Birch Ranges or Ash Plains. Instead, it's forty miles through the Everfree forest, monsters and all, and as a result each pony goes under the Penumbra armed with projectile firing rifles. All this has to be done in eight hours or you fail the exercise. The only thing that makes this even remotely bearable is that it's a night march, something that the Lunar Guards have to excel at for reasons that should be obvious.
Nopony does night fighting like us I think. With that thought I carry on marching, grunting as the pack shifts slightly across my back. That knowledge that Lemon and Foxy would be suffering far more than I as soldiers of the Equestrian army, with less night-fighting training under their belts fails to provide the comfort it did three hours ago. Both of them are NCOs with quite a bit of experience under their hocks, neither of them will be afraid of the dark.
“I know the way now, it's not far from here” I mumble as I trot onwards, shouldering my way through the brush and branches. Keeping that notion in mind, I shoulder my way through a particularly obstinate shrub, the tree branches like skeletal fingers dragging across the leather and polymer of my saddle and snatching at the large unwieldy rifle hanging beneath my neck. All I can hear is the rain battering down around me and the weary trudging of my own hooves as I haul myself through the mud and muck of two days of rain in the Everfree. I clamber up a bank and slither down the other side straight into a trench filled to the brim with muddy water where I'm instantly immersed up to my withers in cold clammy water that chills me to the bone.
The water running through the ditch is moving fairly quickly and I'm not as strong as I could be, having been worn down by seven and a half hours fighting my way through the Everfree forest, on top of four months of some of the most brutal training known to pony-kind. Twigs, leaves and small rocks batter at my hooves and legs as I try to haul myself out of the water, scrabbling for purchase upon the muddy bank, however my hooves slip and slither on the muddy bank, my bulky equipment acting as a massive dead-weight to haul me back into the murky depths.
The familiar panic slices through me, gripping me tight in its talons. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to focus my mind as I fight through the terror that slashes through my guts. Visions of dead gryphons dance before my eyes, visions of fire and explosions and mass graves. I summon up the familiar mantra, that that moment's gone now, what matters is here and now. Eclipse, Lightning Dust. The dead are dead and I cannot resurrect them.
I haul, tugging and straining at the bank as I try to get some traction, however there is nothing to dig my hooves into, no tree roots or sturdy rocks. Just mud that my hooves slither and slide upon. The sucking mud grabs at my hind legs like the clammy talons of a hundred dead gryphons, inexorably pulling me backwards as the weight of my own equipment drags me further into the water. Terror, cold and final, grips at my belly. There are no instructors or assessors on the course itself, they don’t need to be there. If the cadet has made it to the end point in the time limit then they have passed, if not then they've failed, the end. Ponies have died undertaking Eclipse selection, Chaos made that fact brutally clear during our induction briefing.
My hooves scrabble frantically for purchase as my breath and heart quickens. I cannot go out like this. I will not go out like this, fighting for breath as my lungs fill with muddy water. However the laws of physics, cold and immutable things that they are, do not care for the strength of my will or the power of my conviction. I continue to fight against the current as the mud drags me inexorably backwards into the water.
I fight harder, concentrating on Lightning Dust. I grunt, my left hoof finding purchase on a tiny rock. I start to apply my weight to the tenuous hoof-hold whilst moving my right foreleg out to grope for a firmer posture, a root that is just beyond my reach, inches from my grasp. I hook my right hoof round the root and start to haul myself further, feeling the grip of the mud around my hind legs starting to give. My forelegs strain under the effort of hauling myself free of the mud, shaking as I continue to pull myself free of the slime. All my weight is now upon this tree root and my right fore hoof. Suddenly the root splinters, the sharp crack ringing like a gunshot as the weight of my saddle proves too much and I slip backwards, the mud fighting to reassert its dominance as the current picks up.
I slide backwards into the water, my fore-hooves struggling for something, anything to grab onto, however nothing comes to hoof as the dead gryphons grip me tighter, pulling me backwards. My rifle bounces uselessly against my chest and neck as I try to fight my way out of the mud, its weight like a stone around my neck. I hear something approaching, branches snapping and undergrowth being stirred. I gulp, realising that my flailing must have attracted the attention of one of the monsters that stalk this part of the Everfree. The sound of branches snapping as the thing draws closer to me, the thump of hooves in the mud ringing in my ears. I frantically turn my head this way and that, hunting for the threat. Icy fingers of terror twist in my guts as I struggle.
“Fookin' Night-Lights, can't even cross a fookin' ditch without some-pony giving them a hoof.”
Oh thank fuck for that, it’s fuckin Lemon I think, relief flowing through me. I turn my head to see the Unicorn, streaked with mud, blood and dirt. He’s standing at the top of the bank looking down at me. The normally yellow pony is practically black with dirt and crap covering every inch of exposed fur, the whites of his eyes shining crazily as he cautiously descends, before jumping the ditch and landing over on my side of the trench. He trots over to me, limping slightly on his right foreleg. I can see he's got a fairly nasty gash in his leg that shows every sign of getting very badly infected if he comes and assists me. However, he limps over and I feel the weak grip of his magic around me ad he starts to pull me free. He and I both know that he doesn't have time to do this, that he needs to leave me and make tracks if he wants to get to the end-point in time. However he still hauls me free, dragging me out of the mud and depositing me unceremoniously upon the bank.
“Can't handle a bit o' water?” He grunts, drawing in a breath through his teeth as he puts weight on his right foreleg. I don't have the energy to reply quite yet, panting hard as I catch my breath, before I drag myself to my aching hooves as he turns to leave.
“Mate, hold it.” I say quickly
He shakes his head “We don' have time Night-Light, we've gotta move nice and prompt-like if we wanna make it.” He says quickly.
I shake my head to offer an objection. “Lemon, you're not going anywhere 'prompt-like' on that right leg, I've got a first aid kit, let me take a look.” I offer, knowing I don't have time, but he's just saved my life, not only that, but he’s a mucker. We’ve been through Selection together and we’ve worked closely together to help each other out. I can always re-take the course next year, but if I don't help Lemon, that's poor thanks indeed for saving my life.
“Fook it, go ahead.” He sinks to his haunches, hissing a breath as I unfold my wings and carefully reach round for the first aid pouch strapped to the underside of them. Whilst they've grown back pretty nicely since my little shooting, they can;'t hold my weight quite yet, though Lightning Dust is pulling some strings to get me seen by the Navy's Fighter-pony doctors. The incantation that keeps them dry is still nice and strong and the first aid kit nestled in my feathers is still bone dry. I open it up, before squeezing my camelback nozzle with my teeth, squirting the last of my drinking water over his wound. Lemon hisses in agony as the water makes contact. It washes the worst of the dirt away, though he's going to need to get that seen to properly when we make it back.
I then pull out a bandage and offer it to Lemon, who uses his magic to wrap it around the wound and tie it tight, refusing my offer of painkillers.
“I'm not a sissy, I've slept on worse.” He grunts and I nod, folding my first aid kit away and tucking it back among my feathers. “Cheers mate.” He adds and nothing more needs to be said.
“Let's get going, or they'll all fuck off and leave us at the extraction point.” Lemon says and I nod, the exercise returning to the forefront of my mind. However as we're about to head out, I hear a soft clearing of the throat behind me and turn to see Chaos standing on the far bank, looking absolutely immaculate beneath a water shielding spell. I try my best to hide the rage that rolls through my guts at the sight of the instructor.
“Nice job ponies.” He says softly “I'm truly impressed, so impressed in fact that I forgot how to work my stop-watch, you've got fifteen minutes extra time.”
With that, me and Lemon turn on our hooves and start rushing through the underbrush, moving as quickly as Lemon's wound will allow. Though I can make better time alone, I'm not leaving him behind. The two of us continue, fighting through the underbrush and foliage together. No words are spoken as we move, neither of us have the time or the energy to speak, concentrating on the herculean task of putting one exhausted, battered hoof in front of the other. Fifteen minutes is not long at all and we need to get moving. However as we continue, Lemon starts to flag beneath his injury.
“Let's go mate.” I grunt, turning to offer encouragement and he nods, trying to move faster.
“I've got... something I wanna ask you.” He pants as we walk and I nod, summoning the energy for a conversation from somewhere. Anything to keep us going. My mouth feels dry and my tongue several sizes too large for my mouth. Our conversation is slurred and our voices hoarse.
“You're the pony who shot General Shining Armour in the face right?”
I laugh, a hoarse harsh bark of sound as I recall that memory. Everypony has asked me that question, from Chaos down to the other trainees, all of whom were sergeants or higher in their respective regiments. They seemed to respect my shooting Shining Armour though.
“Ponies are still talking about that?” I ask, and he nods with a broad smirk.
“Aye, It's a giggle mate, you'd never get away with it if you did it to my regiment though.” Lemon mutters as we move onward through the dark.
“Funny how everypony says that.” I mutter “Even other Grenadiers.”
“You mean Padders?” Lemon asks and I grunt in affirmation
“Yeah, him.”
'Padders' was a Grenadier who'd had delusions of joining Eclipse and credit where credit's due, he lasted a fair way into the process, however he'd washed out in the escape and evasion portion. He was fastidiously neat and tidy, as all Grenadiers have to be, and he took the good natured banter that I hurled at him in the spirit it was offered, and he returned just as scathing fire as he was offered. He wasn't a bad pony or crap at the job, however he just wasn't right for Eclipse, or Eclipse wasn't right for him.
“Well he had his moments.” Lemon says sagely.
“Yeah.” With that phlegmatic exchange, we continue on our way, the energy for conversation fading as we continue on our march. Some time later, we make our way down a hill and we see lights at the edge of the forest. Slowly we make our way towards the lights, panting hard. We stagger down the slope, past tree roots and clamber over stumps and logs. Victory is within our reach, we're both nearly at the end now, I can almost see the finish line. Four months of arduous training, of combat lectures and brutally hard work are nearly at an end, with the prize, a coveted spot on Eclipse's books and the coveted burning moon Beret badge.
Images dance before my head, Lightning Dust waiting for me with a smile, wrapping her wings around me and holding me close for the first time in months. I've missed that mare more than I can say. She may be arrogant as all get out and may be hard to live with at some moments, but she is a very special pony to me.
We step out into the light, which turns out to be a simple lantern hanging off the back of a sky chariot. Chaos is standing there, calm and inflammable as always. Nopony else is there but him, the enchanted chariot obviously capable of moving under its own power. We slowly stagger up to Chaos, who gestures with a hoof for us to climb up into the sky chariot. The cheeky bastard doesn't even offer a word of congratulations. We stagger up into the sky chariot and collapse, gasping for breath. I'm barely aware of Chaos climbing in to get the chariot moving as I fall asleep, my exhaustion snatching me in its arms the moment my head meets the floor. My eyelids droop and I'm out cold before my brain can even comprehend what has happened.
