Apple Family Last Stand: The Final Battle of the Changeling War
Apple Family Last Stand: The Final Battle of the Changeling War
Apple Family Last Stand: The Final Battle of the Changeling War
By Sparks 2037
I got nothing against Sapphire Shores. But I’ll swear on a fresh bushel of zap apples that listening to every one of her hit albums back-to-back for two solid weeks has got be grounds for murder. And no sensible jury back in Ponyville would convict me.
But I couldn’t kill Big Mac. He was my brother, after all. And I needed somepony behind the steering wheel while I handled the roof-mounted machine gun. I sure wasn’t goin’ to put the eldest member of the Apple family on a slug-thrower of that caliber. Granny Smith can still hold her own in many ways, but the recoil on that thing would knock her right on her butt.
“Dang it all, Mac,” I complained, “you’re just plain gettin' on my nerves now. Will you turn Miss Shores down so I can finish my broadcast?”
Big Mac nodded.
“Eyup.”
He flipped a switch on the sun-cracked dashboard and the blaring pop music fell blessedly silent.
Over in the passenger seat, Granny breathed a sigh of relief. She went back to watching the cracked asphalt whiz by under our wheels. Outside, the sunlight was shifting from sunbake orange over to the rosy reds at the start of evening.
“Apologies to all you Sapphire fans out there,” I added into the CB microphone. “We’re a stretch southwest of Appleloosa now. We reckon on makin’ it in soon, but if there’s anypony listening, y’all speak up plain. Until tomorrow, this is Applejack, Recon Scout in the ‘Fighting Fourth’ Division of Celestia’s Army, out.”
“Think anyone’s goin’ to call us back?” Granny asked.
“Not sure. Hope so. Been gettin’ static ever since we crossed into the Appaloosan Mountains. Probably another radio-dead zone. Can’t tell where to get reception no more.”
Granny nodded, then pulled out a battered tin that used to hold breath mints. She offered me some of the ropey-brown contents. “Dried grasshoppers. Sorry, young’un, but we’re down to the last of our stores.”
I sighed. Grabbed one and popped it in my mouth. Crunch of papery wings, mushy squish of guts in my teeth. Tasted as good as it sounded, too. I never could get used to chewing on bugs. But anything bigger than a rat had been eaten by the Changeling hordes. Or just ended up dead. Like most the rest of our world.
It had gotten harder over the last three years. Not just to survive. To recall what it was like to feel alive.
The Changeling Invasion had been hell on ponies of all sorts. But a couple kinds of plants were doing well for themselves. Brambles dotted with flowers spilled like falls of green and purple water out of abandoned, burned-out buildings. ‘Un-kept and wild as a weed’, as Granny’s cousin Goldie Delicious would’ve said. I guess some forms of life had just plain adapted to the war. Adapted to the ripping, tearing death that the Changeling troopers could bring at will.
I guess we ponies had done our best to adapt, too. Hardly three summers back, we’d beaten our plowshares into swords. When that hadn’t worked, we’d beaten the swords into guns. Turned our pony-powered carts and taxis into armor-plated beasts that used gears and pistons and magic to turn their wheels.
The vehicle we’d buckled into fairly hummed along at the pace of a trotting pony. Which was appropriate, in a way. Way back when it had first been developed, Pinkie had dubbed the contraption a ‘Hummer’. To everypony’s surprise – and my disgust – the name had stuck for good, like a wad of dried-up chewing gum ground into a shag carpet.
I shuddered. Sat up straight in the back seat of the Hummer as we rolled on. My senses tingled. The hair on the back of my mane stood at parade-ground attention. Don’t you think that I’m makin’ that up, neither. I listen to my instincts. I scanned the countryside rolling by the sides of the old highway with a cynic’s eyes.
A whole flock of goose pimples pricked up my side when I saw it. The row of bushes up ahead didn’t look right. Too regular. Not natural. Not quite right.
Some alien intelligence behind it.
“Ponyfeathers,” I breathed.
Mac’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. Granny snapped to and laid a hoof on the shotgun she kept up front. They’d heard me curse like this too often. I never did so without reason.
“Changelings?” This from Mac.
“Reckon so. Gimme a sec to get behind the machine gun, then floor it.”
“Floor it? Or drop the hammer?”
“Aw, Celestia! You think we’re goin’ to flame the engine out again?”
“Nope. I got it fixed. Pretty sure.”
Granny gave him a stern look. “Pretty sure? There’s a stretch of road near Los Pegasus that’s still smokin’ from the last time you re-jiggered that dang contraption.”
Mac let out an annoyed snort at that.
I considered. My brother was one heck of mechanic. Otherwise I’d never have let him talk me into putting a supercharger on the Hummer’s motor block. There were times when I’d worry about him counting higher than five when he ran out of appendages, but Mac knew his way around engines.
My hat strap went under my chin by force of habit. I never really liked the feel of the thing. Cowboy hats are supposed to fit snug and tight. I’d never used a chin strap before, not even during barrel and pickup races. But the kick of a supercharger would go a fair way towards adding my headgear to the list of recent casualties if I wasn’t careful.
I popped the roof hatch. Hot, dry air whistled by. Taste of road dust and gritty earth in my mouth.
I slipped my hooves around the sun-warmed grip of the machine gun.
“Drop the hammer, Mac.”
The compressor spooled up with an oily belch. Then a WHAM! as the supercharger erupted with the howling wail of a manticore getting an ice-water enema. Our Hummer became a primer-colored blur.
The tree line erupted in a burst of green, silver, and black.
“Changelings!” Granny cried. “Three of ‘em. Looks like they’re Queens!”
I swung the gun around.
Changeling troopers normally resemble some awful cross between a pegasus pony and a green-tinted wasp. But I’d been all over Equestria and encountered a bushel of types. Some resembled big predatory cats, others timber wolves. I’d seen Changelings that burrowed, that hopped, even a thirty-foot monstrosity that looked like the bastard love-child of a Canterlot airship and a giant squid.
But the Queens were the worst. The ruler of the Changelings had been rotting in the shallow grave Celestia had put her in for almost three years now.
We still saw her face on a regular basis, though.
Queens were almost identical copies of Chrysalis, save for their brains. They didn’t cast magic from their jagged horns. And they didn’t speak, least not so they could form real words. But they still retained their animal cunning. Their horrid drive to maim and destroy everything in their path.
I’d killed the last one that had gotten within my reach, but it had taken a piece of me with it. Still had a metal plate in my leg from that little encounter.
I took aim at the lead Changeling.
Focused on the creature’s soulless eyes through the targeting scope.
Didn’t have much ammo. Had to make the rounds count.
I squeezed the trigger. The machine gun thundered in my ear.
My bullets hit home. Pings and flashes as high-velocity slugs bounced off the thing’s sharkskin hide. It staggered but kept coming.
Changelings had flesh-soft patches at the throat, the groin, and the eyes. Otherwise, they had the hide of a stone dragon and the constitution of a vending machine.
And dear Celestia, they were fast.
Even with the supercharger, these three ate up the stretch of asphalt between us like Pinkie Pie wolfin’ down a yard-long peppermint candy cane. I watched them grow bigger in the scope. My guts twisted, made me clamp down on the rising fear. Squinted down the barrel. Squeezed off another burst.
The lead Queen’s head exploded in a gout of red.
Dull pop of a firecracker stuffed inside an overripe watermelon. The thing dropped like a wet sack. The remaining two let out feral snarls and drew closer, their pistoning legs smears of motion against the dark asphalt.
I cut loose with my gun. Swiveled it back and forth on its mount. Did my best to knock them back before either one could leap on us.
“Manned gate up ahead!” Granny called.
“Gate?” I shouted back, “What in tarnation are you talkin’ about? Appleloosa doesn’t even have–”
I looked over my shoulder. Ate my words. Just up a long, bare slope lay a sight for road-weary eyes.
Appleloosa. Only this time, instead of a burned-out shell of a town, there was a perimeter made up of logs, rocks, and re-purposed pony wagons. Armed ponies watched us approach, guns up and at the ready. Just behind, plowed fields of green. And a contraption that looked like the upright mixer of a four-story tall eggbeater.
Ponies hustled to pull aside one of the wagons. Opening the ‘gate’ so that we could slip through.
“Head for that opening, Mac!”
The supercharger howled as we blasted through the gate. A hail of gunfire from the perimeter guards whizzed by overhead as the Changelings refused to give up the chase. The whine of the engine downshifted as Mac tried to wrestle the Hummer to a stop. The air filled with the rubbery, eye-watering stench of burning brake pads.
“Right turn!” Granny yelled. “No, Mac! Your other right!”
I ducked as one of the blades of the upright eggbeater thing swung by overhead. All of a sudden it clicked in my fool head: this was some kind of windmill. A set of well-oiled gears at the phone-booth sized base of the windmill creaked and vibrated. The plate in my leg gave me a painful twinge. It startled me, but I had other things on my mind at that moment.
The Hummer waggled side-to-side like a punch-drunk mare looking for a lamppost to lean on. I wrenched the machine gun around. Saw the two Queens just behind us, ready to pounce and tear us to shreds.
Their eyes winked out from black to slate-gray.
They stumbled.
I fired the last of my remaining rounds. Caught one of the Changelings in its tender belly, shredding it and leaving it in the soft dirt.
That same dirt finally gave way under our tires. The Hummer went into a spin. I held tight to the machine gun’s mount as we smacked into the base of the windmill. The contraption made a sad metallic cough, and then stopped moving.
A growl came from the remaining Changeling as it began to climb up the rear of the Hummer. I looked down into Queen Chrysalis’ face. The green eyes were mindless, save for its ravenous expression. The mouth opened. A hiss came out. Hateful, snakelike. Stink of rotting meat on its breath.
The passenger door swung open. Granny stepped out. Grease-quick, she aimed the barrel of her shotgun at the underside of the creature’s neck.
With a bang! the trigger pull knocked Granny on her ass.
The Changeling flipped backwards, dark ichor gushing. Landed ten feet away. It twitched once, then lay still.
Shaking, I slid down through the roof hatch. Mac and I got over to Granny at the same time. She coughed, sat up, and shrugged us off.
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” she said, as she got to her feet. “Just didn’t brace m’self, is all.”
A crowd of Appleloosans gathered around us, eyes full of wonder and hope. Under their tattered hats or bonnets, they all had that too-short-on-sleep look that everypony did these days. But they actually looked a step above starving, which counted as one heck of an improvement compared to folks in Ponyville. They stood a little ways back, as if they were afraid to touch us. Maybe to find out that we weren’t real.
Murmurs next.
“It is them?”
“The ones on the radio, it has to be!”
“It is really Applejack?”
Suddenly, a young filly’s voice rose above the chatter. Mac’s ears stood right on up as the most adorable twang cut the air.
“Of course it’s Applejack! D’you think I wouldn’t recognize my own big sister?”
And like a little red-haired, pink-bowed cannonball, Apple Bloom pushed her way through the crowd. With a cry of joy, she threw herself into my arms.
To be honest, I don’t remember much after that, not for the next few minutes.
I remember burstin’ into a flood of tears fit to bust a beaver dam. Tryin’ to hold my little sister as close as I could, while letting Granny and Big Mac into our little circle as well. The conversation didn’t make much sense, neither. We were all kickin’ up such a fuss I don’t rightly recall who said what.
“It’s you! Y’all made it!”
“You’re really here!”
“I got my sister back! I got my sister back!”
“Sure’n we missed you, honeybun.”
“Got my cutie mark, but all I wanted was my family…”
“I had no idea…thought you were dead…”
“Tried to find you every day…cried every night…”
The ponies around us didn’t go away, exactly. Some blushed. The eyes of others shone with happiness to see our miniature family reunion. Too many stared at us with scarcely concealed hunger. Envy. Resentment from a couple. Hope from still more.
That maybe if we made it, others of their own kin could, too.
I had to choke back a mess of memories. It had been a year and a lot of spare change, after all. The night of the battle at Canterlot Fields, when we’d lost Celestia and Luna and just about all hope. Regular travel between Canterlot, Ponyville, Appleloosa, and dang near everyplace else came to an end. It had all been part of the Changeling strategy. Break us up into little pieces. Wear each one down like breakers on a beach turning boulders into pebbles, and then grind the pebbles into sand.
But all that was past us, now. Nopony had known what had happened to my little sister in all that time. And though she looked underweight and barely larger than when we’d lost her, I wasn’t about to complain.
When I could finally put a stopper on my blubbering and slap together a real sentence, I managed a question.
“Sugarcube, how did you end up here? Why…why didn’t you tell us? Granny and I have been awful worried for more’n a year. Big Mac, too.”
“Eyup,” Mac put in, with a firm shake of his head.
“That night we got pulled apart,” Apple Bloom said, “Cousin Braeburn saved me. Got me and some other fillies out from where a bunch of Changeling troopers had us cornered. Since then, I’ve been here. Helpin’ to rebuild the town.”
“So Braeburn saved you, did he? I’ve got to thank that young buck.”
Apple Bloom’s face fell. “Y’all might find that hard to do. He’s gone, sis. Died of his wounds on the way here from Canterlot. A lot of ponies did. We even had to leave his body behind.”
I fell silent for a moment. Tugged off my hat and tucked the chin strap inside before I put it back on. Granny and Mac just looked blankly into space. We’d lost so many of the Apple clan that it was a never-ending rodeo of hurt. Too much for a pony brain to take in, sometimes.
“So,” Big Mac finally said, “Why didn’t you call us on the radio?”
“I tried, I really did! But the world’s gone all crazy, both the magic and the science! Ever since that quadruple sonic rainboom that Dash pulled off three years ago, all Appleloosa can do is listen in on radio or telegraph messages. Something’s changed in the air here, an’ whatever it is blocks outgoing signals.”
“What about sending a message by courier, little ‘un?” Granny asked.
Apple Bloom shook her head. “We tried that too. The Changelings are as thick as fleas on a dog all over these mountains. We’ve even spotted a Queen half the size of an Ursa Minor!”
I shuddered at that. My little sister went on.
“After we lost a few ponies tryin’ to break out, we decided to send one out with a fully armed squad to back ‘em up. They got an hour south of here before the Changelings pulled an ambush. We lost Sheriff Silver Star on that day.”
Another pang went through my chest. Silver Star wasn’t an Apple, but he was a darned good stallion. Even before the war, he’d held the people here together through thick and a lot of thin besides.
“So who’s in charge here now?” I asked. “Did the Sheriff get to pin his badge on his replacement before he went out on his last roundup?”
A distinctly feminine cough sounded from off to one side. “Darling, you might say that. He didn’t literally pin anything on me, but he did leave me to continue in his stead.”
My jaw ‘bout near dropped and bounced off the dirt as a very familiar unicorn came to stand next to Apple Bloom. While I stood still, struck dumb like a fool, Rarity stepped forward and hugged me close. That got my brain to finally break out of its furrow, and I hugged her back. She repeated the ritual with Granny and Big Mac as I finally got a good look at her.
Rarity had always eaten like a bird. To avoid putting on what she once called 'an unhealthy avoirdupois'. But now? The bony knobs of her joints stuck out against her dull white coat and her hooves were chipped in a way that would have made her throw a fit in the old days. Only her eyes still gleamed, though they’d taken on a hard marble blue that hadn’t been there before.
“Apple Bloom,” Rarity said, “Would you be so kind as to take Granny and Big Mac over to the dining hall? I’ll take my supper with Applejack at my quarters.”
“Sure thing, Rarity,” my sister replied. “We’re servin’ corn dodgers tonight, you’re sure to like ‘em.”
A big droplet of drool attempted an escape from Big Mac’s mouth before I butted in.
“Hold up there now! Don’t mistake me, I’m plum tickled to see you again, Rarity. But in case you ain’t been following the course of the war, I just took a sizeable chunk of the Fourth Division’s firepower to get here from Ponyville. That’s put a lot of ponies at risk, to say nothin’ of me, my Granny, and my brother. I want somepony to tell me what’s going on, and why I’ve been ordered out here.”
“You don’t know the reason?” Apple Bloom’s voice went up into a squeak. “It wasn’t to look for me?”
“I’m sorry, sugarcube, but none of us knew you were even here. All I got was a message from Twilight. It said that I needed to get a fire team and a functioning Hummer out here. That nothing else mattered, at least compared to this mission.”
“She couldn’t elucidate further,” Rarity said, “because the enemy is listening in on many of our communication channels. But I can tell you this much: you’ve been sent out here to pick up a special package and return it to Ponyville.”
I let out a snort. “Package, eh? How big is it?”
“Well, if I was required to guess, I would say that it’s about…so high, and so wide.” Rarity lifted one hoof up to the tip of her horn as she spoke, and then spread her forehooves out to the width of her torso.
“Oh, Celestia,” I groaned, “You have to be kiddin’ me. You’re the package my family has to deliver?”
“Precisely. We’ll talk about it more over the aforementioned supper. And speaking of ‘supper’ and ‘family’, there are more Apples waiting for you at the dining hall.”
“More of the Apple family?” Granny Smith’s face brightened as she heard the news.
“Lots more!” Apple Bloom said, as she led Granny and her big brother towards the hall. “Apple Fritter, Apple Cobbler, Peachy Sweet, and Red Gala, for starters…”
“Very well, everypony,” Rarity called out to the remaining crowd, “This has all been quite the exciting afternoon, but kindly return to your perimeter duties. Vigilance is a must right now.”
Without another word, the ponies around us dispersed. I watched as they got back to their posts, took up rifle or shotgun, and went back to squintin’ at the dunes and hills outside their barricade. Rarity had gone walking off in the other direction. I had to step lively to catch up with her, but by the time I did, my first questions died on my lips.
I couldn’t help but stare at the space just inside Appleloosa’s outer ring of buildings. Dust brown had been replaced by bright green. A web of pipes, garden hoses, and sprinkler heads had been duct-taped or glued together to make a watering system.
My eyes roved over rows of freshly growing broccoli, wax beans, tomatoes, turnips, sweet corn, and bell peppers. Ponies who were too young or old to be doing guard duty were planting seedlings or picking vegetables. And they looked happy as they did so.
“Praise be,” I gasped. “I haven’t seen anypony growin’ food crops since…oh, Celestia! A couple of years, maybe more.”
“Thank your little sister,” Rarity said, as we walked through the gardens. “She designed all of what you see here. It gives us just enough food to keep going.”
I nodded, understanding. In all truth, Ponyville was in worse shape.
“Question is, how? The Changelings should’ve swarmed this place. So many ponies out here, so exposed…”
“We were harried by those ruffians nearly every day,” Rarity said. “Until we set up magical wards all around the town perimeter. Changelings can’t get anywhere near the main gate without us knowing. It’s primitive, but it works. The Changelings haven’t mounted an attack on us since.”
Something about that didn’t sound quite right, but I let it go. Furled it up like a red flag for a look-see later on before I spoke up.
“Don’t that take a lot of juice to power the wards?”
“It does, but Apple Bloom and I managed to fix that issue. I suppose that you noticed her cutie mark?”
I shook my head in the affirmative. My little sister’s flank had been marked with a claw hammer and a paint roller, crossed so that they made an ‘X’ shape. Nothing apple-related, so far as I could tell, but a useful set of skills in this world.
“I designed the first wind-powered magical generator,” Rarity said. “But your sister took charge of building it, and of routing the power. To charge up the wards and any other hardware around the town.”
“Other hardware? Like what?”
We passed into the inner ring of houses and buildings that made up the town’s core. Most of the places weren’t in the best shape, but we trotted up to one of the few completely intact buildings. It was a wooden cube of a place that looked like a king-sized tool shed. Off to one side stood a covered wagon and a stretched-out tarp to keep off the worst of the sun. Rarity went up to the building’s double doors. Her horn glowed as she opened them with a flourish.
“Like this mech suit from the First Division,” she said.
I had stared at the gardening equipment. But this made my eyes bug out. The suit squatted inertly in the corner like a pudgy dragon, its massive mechanical hands planted firmly on its knees. A machine-gun barrel projected from one shoulder. A set of cutting tools and a welding torch jutted out from the other. The entire machine was covered in dinged-up, mud-brown armor. Blunt, squat, ugly-as-a-brick and purely functional.
To my farm-girl eyes, it looked beautiful.
A shiver ran down my spine. The control cage, where the operator sat, hung open. Dim green light from the system indicators lit up the inside. Batteries fully charged. I’d trained on one of these, back when they were first built. But the Changelings destroyed the Fillydelphian workshops where we made them, so we’d never had more than a couple around at any time.
“Where’d you get this thing?” I asked.
“The next battle after Canterlot. It was brought to us by a wounded straggler from one of Princess Cadence’s columns. We weren’t able to save the operator by the time she got here, but we saved her mech. It’s not much use on defense – it’s out of ammunition and it’s too slow to take on Changeling troopers. But it’s a marvelous piece of construction equipment. It’s how we demolished the old clock tower to make the perimeter wall and the windmill’s base.”
My ears perked up. “Big Mac smacked our Hummer into that. Are we goin’ to have Changelings coming at us?”
She let out a laugh in that highfalutin way of hers. Somehow, it didn’t bother me as it did in times past. Probably because it was so rare to hear anypony laugh anymore.
“Oh, no. We’ve got at least a week’s supply of magical energy in our batteries. Apple Bloom and I can fix whatever might be broken tomorrow morning. In the meantime, let’s eat.”
Rarity motioned over to the wagon. Sitting on a table under the tarp were two bowls. A magnificent, all-but-forgotten aroma wafted up from one. I went over, smelled again. My knees went weak and I had to force myself to stop from diving headfirst into the chunks of grilled apple that lay at the bottom.
“Go ahead, please,” Rarity said. She joined me and began to eat daintily.
Me? I plowed right through the bowl like a dozer through a pile of rubble.
In all honesty, the fruit was as green as a new farmhand. Sour. Mealy. It stank of butane from a cheap gas burner. And the pitiful size of the serving would’ve made a poor side dish, let alone a full meal.
To me, right now, it was heavenly.
We didn’t speak until we washed our meal down with some lukewarm water out of a canteen flask hanging up by the wagon door.
“Looks like you made yourself at home here,” I ventured.
“As best I could. Just like Apple Bloom.” Rarity said. Her voice went quiet as she added, “What of the others? How many of our friends are left?”
My voice went quiet too. “Twi’s stuck in Canterlot, holding back the Changelings best she can with Cadence. She visits her brother’s grave ‘bout as often as I see Rainbow’s. As for the rest…they’re okay. I guess. Saw Fluttershy just before we lit out for Appleloosa.”
I shuddered. Didn’t want to think about what had happened to that girl. My mood took a plunge off the blue end. I clenched my eyes shut. Forced my hooves not to tremble as I went on.
“I…I really ain’t a recon scout anymore, Rarity. I say that I am on the radio, figure I keep people’s hopes up. There ain’t a ‘Celestia’s Army’ anymore. No government anymore, least in Ponyville. Not many ponies left, either.”
“How many of us are left? Of any breed?” Rarity’s question came out in a whisper.
“The Crystal Empire, Cloudsdale, they’re both gone. Canterlot’s down to maybe a thousand. Manehattan’s hangin’ by a thread. I’ve seen a handful of settlements the size of yours, sixty or seventy families. Dozen or so refugee camps. The Changelings haven’t been quite as aggressive as of late. Maybe they’re pullin’ together for one big punch. Or they know that by now, they could start starvin’ us out.”
I kicked at a rock in the dust. It skittered into the gathering dusk with a clatter. Rarity knew what to do, though. She let me be and ate her meal in silence. Let me put the lid on that bubblin’ cauldron of emotions before she spoke.
“There is more news I have to share with you, then.”
“Better or worse?”
“Both, I’m afraid.”
I stared into the empty food bowl. My tummy protested, asked for seconds when it darned sure knew there weren’t any. The sky purpled over a bit more into evening before I could make my mouth form the words I hated.
“Gimme the bad news first.”
Rarity took a breath. Like a diver who knows he’s about to plunge into a pool of cold, dirty water. She fought to keep her voice steady.
“Like your sister said, Appleloosa’s been cut off from communication. Until last week. I was able to magically contact Canterlot. Through my sister, Sweetie Belle.”
That made me sit up. “Then why didn’t you tell her about Apple Bloom bein’ here? We still got radio connections between Ponyville and Canterlot–”
“I’m afraid that you’ve got no idea how difficult it is to cast spells here, my dear. I’m not the greatest magical talent of the last generation, Sweetie is. And she’s half-insane now. She blames herself for the Changeling War. For losing Scootaloo, our parents, everything. And she’s obsessed now with something Twilight told her at the last War Council. The final bit of bad news about this war.”
I said nothing. Waited for the hammer to drop.
“You know how detail-oriented our friend Twilight is,” Rarity said, as she began to pace. “She and Princess Cadence have run through every single possible military scenario they could come up with. And they’ve got their answer: in the next three months, our defeat and annihilation at the hands of the Changelings is inevitable.”
My voice broke.
“I can’t…Rarity…I can’t accept that. Our world is dead, we’re dyin’, but a world without ponies? Not a one?”
A sigh. “We lost Celestia at the battle of Canterlot Fields, but she did not die. Luna took her out into the vast realms of the galaxy to heal. So the two celestial sisters shall go on, no matter what else.” She cocked her head at me. “And there is one last strand of hope. The ‘good’ news. It’s why I begged her to talk to Twilight. To get you sent here.”
“Go on.”
“I’ve...had to put away my true passions for a while,” Rarity said, in a way that sounded slightly embarrassed. “Much as I love fashion, it just doesn’t seem right to practice it. Not when everypony is trying so hard to fight, to live. So I’ve been studying magic. And I confirmed with my sister that something I’ve dreamed of is actually possible: time travel.”
I frowned. “Say what now?”
“I can construct a magical device to allow me to go back in time. Not just a week or so, the way Twilight did once before, but years into the past. The materials I need are only in Ponyville. The remnants of Twilight’s crystal laboratory. I’m fairly sure that it will take at least a month to build. And another six or seven weeks more to find the right spot in the timeline. To prepare, to think about what I have to say, to do.”
“That’s cuttin’ it mighty close, Rarity.”
“I can’t rush this, I simply can’t. We’re different now, after this war. Especially me. The younger, more frivolous version of myself…she’s not going to accept what she sees as easily as a filly with more sense, like you. Or who accepts the idea of temporal travel already, like Twilight. It’s going to be tricky, to say the least.”
I looked up to where the moon had just begun to rise. A tiny sliver of light against the darkness.
I so dearly wanted to hope again. To believe in something.
“All right,” I said heavily, “Let’s say I believe in this dang fool plan. You got any spare ammo that’ll fit our guns? We’re just about out of rounds for the machine gun. And we need to refuel. Our batteries are down below half-charge.”
Rarity allowed herself a cautious smile. “We’ve got bullets for your hand weapons, but that’s it. Energy is a different matter.”
She motioned for me to look through the door of her wagon. I took a peek inside, saw lots of old cushions and sparkly swirls of fabric. Girly fru-fru stuff. Oddly enough, it made me pleased that Rarity still cared enough to put her personal stamp on things.
Just inside the door lay a pile of freshly charged batteries. They shone with a sun-kissed glow. A three-foot high replica of the eggbeater-style windmill sat next to them.
Rarity saw the question in my eyes. “That’s the scale model Apple Bloom built, back when I had the windmill idea. It’s an exact copy, all the way down to the gears.”
A stray breeze of wind kicked up, spun the little windmill’s blade around. It creaked. The plate in my leg gave me a painful twinge.
I gasped as the red flag I’d put away in my fool head came unfurled.
My mind jumped to earlier in the day, when the Hummer burst into the courtyard, Changeling Queens in hot pursuit.
The Hummer waggled side-to-side like a drunk mare looking for a lamppost to lean on.
I wrenched the machine gun around.
My leg let out a twinge.
Saw the two Queens just behind us, ready to pounce and tear us to shreds.
Their eyes winked out from black to slate-gray.
They stumbled.
It all became clear to me. The warning system hadn’t stopped the Changelings from attacking Appleloosa. It hadn’t done a gosh-darned thing.
“Sweet Celestia,” I breathed.
“Applejack, what–”
“Which way to the dining hall?” I demanded.
Rarity pointed. I took off in that direction, leaving her to catch up for a change. I pulled up short to where Granny, Big Mac, and Apple Bloom had become the center of attention. The crowd of ponies around them were talking happily. The smell of roasted corn and fresh cider hung in the air. I hated to break up the good mood, but I had no choice.
“Everypony, listen up!” I shouted. “We got to get every mare and stallion to the perimeter, before the Changelings hit us!”
Silence for a moment. Rarity came to stand next to me. Apple Bloom looked at me with a puzzled expression.
“What d’you mean, sis? We’ve never been attacked here, not for a long time, at least. Why now?”
“You ain’t been hit because of the vibrations that Rarity’s windmill puts out,” I declared. “It puts a hurt on the Changelings’ ability to move, to fight.”
A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd.
“Could that be true?”
“Changelings, now?”
“Aw, that filly’s a few apples short of a bushel.”
“All the same,” Rarity said primly, “If Applejack has concerns, then I for one think we should heed her advice…”
Her voice trailed off as a buzz cut through the air.
“That’s the perimeter alarm…” Apple Bloom said uneasily.
One of the perimeter guards shot off a signal flare. It burned bright green as it arced down, illuminating the open slopes around the town.
Changelings covered the ground in a hellish black swarm. They moved towards the perimeter at a slithering creep. A chorus of yips and snarls rose from the aliens like steam off a stretch of warm water.
“Get to your positions!” Rarity shouted. “Everypony, to arms!”
Instantly, the crowd scattered. A couple of the older ponies gathered up the young colts and fillies and headed for the town’s interior buildings. The rest of the Appleloosans ran to the perimeter and hauled out guns they’d stored in pre-arranged caches.
Granny came up to me, Big Mac and Apple Bloom in tow. “What’ll we do, young’un? Seein’ as how we’re supposed to transport your friend, should we try and break out?”
“It might help,” Apple Bloom added. “Perhaps you could draw off some of the enemy.”
It was as if the five of us stood on a little island together as everyone around us ran to take their place. I looked hard at the ponies manning the perimeter. They all looked steady. They knew there was nowhere else they could run. But all they had were rifles and shotguns.
No pressure, Applejack, a voice in my head said mockingly. It’s only the entire fate of the world that’s riding on your next answer.
“We ain’t leaving,” I pronounced. “There’s no way we can break through that many Changelings. And even if there were, I’m not leaving friends in a bind when they need our help. We make our last stand here and now.”
“If y’all keep those things off me for a few minutes,” Apple Bloom said, “I might be able to get the windmill fixed.”
“I’ll help,” Rarity said.
“No way.” I said, with a shake of my head. “We can’t risk you. We’ve got to get you back to Ponyville, change all of this. Keep it from happenin’.”
Big Mac and Granny Smith looked startled at that news, but they didn’t ask any questions. Rarity threw a conflicted, helpless look at me. I nodded, and she turned and ran back towards the inner buildings.
“You need any of us to help you with that windmill?” I asked Apple Bloom.
“I could use Big Macintosh.”
“Right, then.” I slapped Mac on his flank. “You help out Apple Bloom. Granny’ll drive while I shoot.”
Mac swallowed hard, but he seemed okay with the plan.
“Eyup,” he agreed.
I took my little sister’s hooves in mine. Squeezed them tight, once. She turned and ran for the windmill’s base. Mac followed along like a faithful hunting dog.
Granny and I got over to the Hummer. She climbed into the driver’s side and started the motor. I loaded up the machine gun with the last belt of ammo. I held the grips and let out a breath. My face felt flushed, sweaty. Nose ticklin’ with the smell of gun oil and freshly fried corn dodgers.
The ground began to shake with the rumble of thousands of heavy hooves.
A tiny, helpless moan came from one of the defenders up on the gate.
I looked around at the other ponies on the perimeter. I spotted Apple Fritter off to one side. Peachy Sweet led the team at the gate. Red Gala perched in the perimeter’s guard tower, her gun at the ready.
The rumble of hooves grew louder.
I cleared my throat.
I didn’t sing, not exactly. These weren’t singin’ times. Not anymore. What came out of my mouth had a cadence to it, but it was grim and strong and put steel where the body needed it.
We travel the road of generations,
Joined by a common bond
We sing our song 'cross the pony nation
From Equestria and beyond!
Fritter and Sweet picked it up from the second verse, Gala by the third. And although they weren’t Apples, the rest of the townspeople in earshot joined in as best they could. They all but shouted the verses. To throw their words against the gatherin’ darkness.
We're Apples forever
Apples together
We're family, but so much more
No matter what comes
We will face the weather
We're Apples to the core!
With that, the ponies up on the perimeter let loose with their rifles. Flashes and booms of shotguns next. The thunder from the Changelings’ hooves outside grew and grew. Drowned out the sound of ponies talking.
Drowned out the sound of the guns.
To my left, the barrier of logs and rocks vanished under a wave of Changelings. Screams and shouts from dying ponies as the Changelings poured into the compound like water, like quicksilver. I swung my weapon to the side and squeezed the trigger like tomorrow wasn’t coming.
A platoon of Appleloosans came charging out of the inner buildings. With homemade slings, they launched gasoline-filled cider bottles topped with flaming wicks into the oncoming Changelings.
Broken glass crashed and tingled. The flare of fire. Howls of pain from the Changelings as the front ranks burned.
I risked a glance away. Apple Bloom and Big Mac stepped back from the base of the windmill and watched the gears start to turn.
Slowly. Snail-like.
A pair of Changeling troopers leaped over the flames and headed towards us. I cut loose, shredding one. The second came on at a shambling lope.
Granny shifted into reverse and gunned the motor. Tried to put some distance between us and the creature. I ducked as a mill blade creaked on past my head.
I sighted on one of the Changeling’s eyes. Pulled the trigger.
Heard a click as my weapon ran dry.
The creature made a mighty bound. Metallic forepaws landed on the Hummer’s hood. With a snarl, it lunged forward. Shattered the windshield with its head.
Granny cried out. Blast of a shotgun. The Changeling’s hindquarters went limp.
I slipped back down through the roof hatch. Granny lay pinned in her seat under the creature’s head and forepaws. She waved me off when I moved to help.
“Get that windmill working, girl!”
I slid out the rear door. Heard Apple Bloom’s high-pitched voice shouting in frustration.
“It’s not turning fast enough, dang it!” she cried. “The gears are stickin’, and I’m out of…” She looked towards me, eyes wide. “Watch out!”
I risked a glance behind me. Coming up out of the swarm of Changelings was a single Queen. A queen that was easily half the size of an Ursa Minor. The ground shook under each hoof beat as she strode forward. A giant version of Chrysalis’ face opened a mouth full of jagged teeth and let out a roar that rattled the windows on the Hummer.
It strode up to the gate, drew back, and punched it with one forehoof. With a CRACK, the wood and metal splintered as the ponies there dove for cover. It strode towards the windmill, its eyes filled with pure malice and hate.
I got up and ran.
Lungs puffing, I galloped through the gardens, past the dining hall, and up to the toolshed thing next to Rarity’s wagon. I threw open the doors and all but flung myself into the mech suit’s cockpit seat.
With a snap and click, I belted myself in. Then I wiped my hoof across the entire control board, booting up all the systems at once. A combat instructor would’ve had a conniption watchin’ my startup procedure, but I didn’t give a darn at this point.
A metallic whine as the suit’s gears and bearings shifted and the contraption rose to attention. The dual lights on the chest burned into the gathering dark. I pulled the chest plate closed and put all four hooves into motion.
A sound of snapping power cables. The crunch of a door frame. I was out of the shed and up moving. The mech whined like a sick dog, but I got it up to a jog and stamped my way through the garden path without tipping over.
I took a short cut, pushed my way through a high hedge, and emerged next to the windmill proper. The blades continued to grind along slowly, but I didn’t pay no mind. Big Mac was sprawled off to one side to where the Queen had either kicked or thrown him. He groaned, but wasn’t able to get up yet.
Apple Bloom dodged a strike by the Changeling Queen as the monster snapped at her. She led it away from the windmill, doing her best to hold its attention.
Held it too well. The Queen’s jaws snapped out like a striking snake. Sank its teeth into my sister’s forearm. She let out a shriek of pain.
The mech didn’t have any bullets for its guns. But I clenched one armored hand into a fist, and then smashed it into the other’s palm. A boom rumbled across the town. The Queen turned away from Apple Bloom and stared at me in stupid amazement.
My voice came out as a mother bear’s growl.
“Get away from her, you bitch!”
The Queen screeched back and went for me. Her legs pistoned and she made a leap. I shifted to the side. Braced myself. Leaned into a right hook. My punch connected with the Queen’s head. A clang as the thing staggered. It grabbed at me, tried to pull me down with it.
I rolled. Got on top of it for a second. It let out a bellow as the metallic weight of the mech pressed up again Changeling hide, snapping Changeling bones.
The Queen found her footing. Tugged us upright. She landed kicks and punches on the suit’s armor, pushing me back. She lunged, and I got a bit of luck: she put all her strength into smashing the useless gun mount on my shoulder.
I used my suit’s hands to do something we ponies never thought of, not until we started building mechs. I grabbed each of the Queen’s forehooves.
Then I squeezed.
The servos in my suit’s wrists crushed the Queen’s limbs as if they’d been stuck in a hydraulic press. Black, oily Changeling blood poured in rivulets down my suit’s arms. Roars of anger became squeals of pain. She began tearing at the suit’s joints. Alarms turned the control panel next to my face a bright red. The mech began to lose power. The queen knocked us down again. This time with her on top.
She buried her jaws into the suit’s chest plate and tore it away.
Chrysalis’ insect-like face grinned lopsidedly at me through the opening.
Desperately, I swiped my hoof across the last set of functioning tools.
The welding torch coughed. The Queen looked up just as it leapt into flame. She let out awful shriek as the fire crisped her right eye to a charred ruin. I shoved her off. Pushed her onto her back. The suit whined in protest, all of its alarms blaring at me as I let the full weight of the mech fall onto one knee.
The Changeling’s insides crunched where I landed. The monstrous form of Queen Chrysalis let out a death rattle and went still.
Around me, the sounds of battle continued to rage. The breathy whoosh of the torch continued to sound in my ear. Along with the whine of the cutting tool. Chrysalis’ form, a giant felled by a pony in a powered suit, lay smashed under me. Her blood coursed out in black rivers, bleeding oily black against the ground.
Bleeding…
I hooked the mech’s arm around the dead Queen. Hefted it over the exposed part of the windmill’s base. Let the dark, oily fluid spurt over the gears.
The mech suit’s innards let out a pathetic whine. A sort of ‘sorry’ as it slumped in place, still holding the bleeding body of the Queen. The torch went out and I had to climb out of the control cage on my own.
Next to me, the cogs that made up the inside the windmill’s innards started spinning. A hum rose from the box, givin’ my leg plate an almost welcome twang.
The mass of Changelings shook their heads, drunk-like. Then froze in place or collapsed on the ground.
The Appleloosans stared in amazement, not sure what to do.
But my brother Big Mac knew well enough. He finally got up. Shook off the beating that the Queen had given him, and bellowed at the top of his lungs.
“LET’S GET ‘EM!”
As one, the ponies of Appleloosa charged into the mass of Changelings, putting each trooper down with a single bullet or knife stab.
Me? I went over to Apple Bloom. She lay cradling her foreleg, red pony blood streaming from the deep bite that the Queen had given her. She didn’t so much as whimper as I picked her up.
We Apples, I’m proud as heck that we’re made of tough stuff.
I brought my sis over to what passed for the local infirmary.
I stayed while they patched her arm up.
I stayed when they put her in a bed and let her sleep.
I stayed when Rarity came to me, thanked me for savin’ them all.
Matter of fact, I stayed right by Apple Bloom’s bed until dawn.
When she woke, I told her everything that Rarity had shared with me.
“Then you’re not goin’ to stay. You have to leave.” she said, as she watched the sun come up.
“Honestly, sugarcube, I can’t make heads or tails of what Rarity’s tryin’ to do, but if there’s a chance, we need to take it.”
“I know.” Her voice dropped, and she choked back a sob. “This war between us and the Changelings…it ain’t the way it’s supposed to be, I just know it. It just…it feels like I just got my sister back. And now I got to lose her again.”
“You ain’t going to lose me.” I said.
“So…you’ll come back to Appleloosa when your mission’s done? For me?”
I leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
She felt so warm, so wonderful.
So alive.
“Darlin’,” I said, with a grin as broad as sunrise itself, “All the Changelings in the world couldn’t keep me away.”
#
Author's Note
The cover art for this story was graciously permissioned by vombavr. You can find more of his awesome art here.
Hope y'all like my third try at writing one of the Mane Six in first person!
In case you're wondering how Rarity's mission to go back in time and save everyone from this dark future went, check it out here.
Oh, and if you're curious what Apple Bloom meant about 'everything changing' when Rainbow Dash did her quadruple sonic rainboom, check it out here.
All three stories: Apple Family's Last Stand, Quadruple Rainboom, and Time Enough for Sisters take place within the same 'Pony-verse'.
