Soviet territory
Sep. 4th, 1941
The countryside was no longer the peaceful place it had once been. Abandoned houses, their occupants having walked, rode, or drove to safety in light of the German forces steadily taking Soviet land. Along the dirt road of the village, a contingent of 3 German tanks advanced. At the rear of the line was a Panzer IV, a newer fighting vehicle that was Germany’s finest. At the middle, a Panzer III, having spent months in service and a few holes from the odd anti-tank gun that failed to hit a component. At the front of the line was a Panzer II, its serial number reading “C-3422”, representing the C type model of the Pz. II. The small tank was armed with a 37 millimeter autocannon, not meant for anti-tank use so much as for clearing bunkers and fortified positions. For the infantry it would face, a coaxial machine gun was also mounted on the turret.
For most, the Pz. II was little more than a decently-built tank, completely in the hands of its three crewmembers. However, there was more than met the uninformed eye to the Pz. II: it, against all forms of logic and reason, had grown a mind. Unbeknownst to its crew, the Panzer was scanning its environment by the small cupola that had been fitted to the top of its turret. The Panzer was not able to speak, for that matter make any noise in the first place besides the omnipresent chug of its engine, but it could still sense that the two tanks behind it didn’t have the mind it did. The tank turned its vision ahead once more and focused on the road passing under it.
At that moment, from behind a shed at the corner of the road, a BT-5, crewed by suicidally overconfident rookies, burst out and opened fire at the Pz. II. The shell smashed through the side of the tank and burst into fragments, bouncing inside the vehicle’s middle. The gunner and loader screamed as they died, but the driver was lucky enough to go down instantly. With no crew to move it and its center damaged, the Panzer II lay still.
As the BT-5 began to pull into reverse, its crew now realizing the magnitude of the situation, the Panzer III fired a shell into its driver’s slot, killing him. The Panzer IV ended the BT-5 with a shot through the lightly-armored turret of the Soviet tank. Both crews glanced at the downed Panzer II and started to confirm the loss… only for the Panzer II to vanish with an audible POP. The two tanks exchanged a confused look, then returned to staring at the spot where the Pz. II had disappeared.
Sweet Apple Acres
Outskirts of Orchard
The Panzer II was confused. It had accepted its death the moment its loss of crew registered. But here it was, alive and well, at least to the extent a sentient tank could be, and with the ability to move its turret, and evidently itself. That had never happened before, although considering that it had apparently been teleported by something or someone and was functioning crewless, a lot of things were about to happen that hadn’t happened before. The tank swiveled its turret, observing the orchard around it- as reconnaissance tanks often did- as its cupola optics were shattered. That brought something to the Panzer’s mind- a quick check of its insides (something the little tank had never really understood- perhaps the optics were both ways?) revealed no trace of the bodies. Wherever its crew’s corpses were, they weren’t inside the tank.
The Pz.II decided to continue a wandering path through the orchard, taking in its surroundings. It was probably around 11 in the morning considering where the sun was, and it seemed to be late summer, the apples of the orchard ripened and almost unnaturally large and red. The Panzer almost wished it was human to taste one of the fruits, but if it was human right now, it would be dead. Mixed blessings. The sight of an orchard was a good one at any length- civilization was near, and even if it was Soviet, the tank could always play dead, and gather useful information for the Fatherland. Or it could just be backwards peasants that would panic and run, leaving the Panzer starved for information.
The orchard cleared, revealing… a barn. Yes, it was indeed a barn. Which also meant that there was people nearby. The Pz.II had always liked people, especially its crew, even though the tank didn’t honestly know much about them at all. Even if these people were backwards peasants, at least they were people. The Panzer excitedly turned its turret to face the opening door of the small farmhouse adjacent to the barn… and the chest-high orange pony that cantered out of it to look at the tank.
If the Panzer was human, it would have done a double take. Ponies weren’t orange. And neither did ponies wear hats, have tattoos on their rears, or braid their hair. The concept of “alien planet”- where in the world did that come from?- crossed the Panzer’s mind. If this strangely decked out pony had dressed itself, it wasn’t a far jump to assume it owned the place or worked there. Which meant that the Panzer was now trapped in a world of tiny sentient horses.
Crap.
Applebloom burst through the back gate of the barn, very visibly panicked. Applejack whipped around from the table where she was slicing an apple for a snack.
“What’s wrong, Bloom?” Applejack inquired. Her mind raced to think of what Applebloom could have seen that reduced her to such a state.
“T-there’s ah big huge gray carriage, movin’ without any ponies hitched to it an’ it’s comin’ this way! It’s already through the orchar-” Applebloom was cut off by the growing sound of an engine, which to the two farmponies sounded like an animal growling before it struck. Applebloom started for the door but was stopped by an orange hoof.
“Mac’s off doin’ a delivery. Ah can’t risk you gettin’ hurt, Bloom. Stay inside- Ah’m going off to face that thing.” Applejack said, beginning to show a slight hint of fear as well. A horseless carriage? It was like a foal’s scary story, but the growl outside the barn was as real as real could be. Applejack took one last glance at Applebloom before popping the door open and walking out, as confidently as she could force herself to be. At the very edge of the fence lay a huge gray carriage, with what appeared to be a cannon mounted on a swiveling top. She looked up at the thing, wondering how sane the pony inside was. If they had stolen some high-tech military piece and drove it up to the farm… Applejack’s head whipped around to see the cannon destroying the barn… in her imagination, as the barn was completely intact and the carriage idle. Applejack cleared her throat.
“Wh-ho are y’all?” she asked. No response from the carriage other than the continuous growl- actually, she thought, it didn’t sound like a growl so much as it sounded like a drone, kind of like a magic-driven factory in some of the bigger cities. Applejack noticed a foothold on the carriage’s side, just above the multiple wheels and the segmented band connecting them. She tentatively latched on and pulled herself up, just beside the swiveling top, which reminded her of a castle’s turret. A trapdoor atop the turret was unlocked, allowing Applejack to peer into the vehicle.
There was nopony there.
Applejack dropped into the cramped internals of the carriage. If there was a pony inside she could buck him in a moment. Her fear receded to curiosity as she confirmed that nopony inhabited the carriage. What had controlled it? Had a pony piloting it ran away? No, she didn’t see any hoofmarks around the carriage- the ground was the right consistency to leave slight prints wherever a pony walked. There was a seat- that looked difficult for a pony to sit in- and a few levers, along with a slit to look out of. This was obviously where the carriage was driven from, although the control scheme puzzled her.
There obviously wasn’t a place to hitch ponies to at the front, although through a few holes, which appeared to be acquired over time, she could see a rumbling block, evidently producing the noise. Perhaps it was a magically-enhanced steam engine? Whatever it was, it was connected to two boxes at its side, probably fuel bunkers filled with coal and fed through pipes to the engine. Applejack turned around and looked up at the inside of the turret.
Two seats, one right behind the cannon, and the other behind a glass piece, like a crossbow marksman’s magnifying sight. She was right- this was a war machine, but curiously abandoned. And even if it was Equestrian built, it was evidently a secret project that some madpony defector had stolen. Applejack had by now gotten over her initial curiosity and looked at the numerous holes in the plating of the carriage. Obviously, wherever this thing had came from, it had taken some very serious damage. Applejack’s thoughts turned to her friends, who would no doubt want to see this machine.
“Twilight’s gonna go crazy studyin’ this thing….” Applejack sighed, hoisting herself out of the turret and starting down the town road.
It had scarcely been 5 minutes after Applejack left before Applebloom peeked from the door. She had heard Applejack start down the road, and the carriage had just… sat there. The door on its top was wide open, with Applejack’s hoofprints leading to the side, then away towards the road. So it lay there, open to anypony that dared climb inside. Applebloom’s ears pricked up as she heard the faint sound of eight hooves clopping through the orchard path. She turned her head to see Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, the other two Cutie Mark Crusaders, gaping at the carriage, before turning their heads to her.
“Ah have no idea either…” Applebloom sighed, walking up to the carriage with the other two CMC members.
“Do you still think it’s got steam in it?” Scootaloo asked. Sweetie Belle looked at her with a growing grin, while Applebloom looked concerned.
“We’ll get in trouble with Applejack if we even get innit.” Applebloom said, thinking about what Applejack might say when she got home. However, before she could even get her words out, Sweetie and Scootaloo had already crawled up and in. Applejack sighed and pulled herself up as well.
Scootaloo plopped into the driver’s seat, hooves wrapped around the two levers. Sweetie had landed on the gunner’s seat, and Applebloom had to take the loader’s. Sweetie pulled the hatch shut and locked its bar. Sweetie looked into the glass in front of her- Applebloom had a similar one as well and Scoots had a view slit- and saw a focused circle of vision ahead. Her hoof rested on a small lever and accidentally pushed it to the right. The turret swung rightwards, seats and all.
“Cool! I think I’m getting the hang of this thing!” Sweetie shouted, the inside of the carriage amplifying her voice. Scoots, having seen this, applied a similar thrust to the levers in front of her, and soon the vehicle was trundling forwards through the front yard.
“I think I could get a job doing this!” Scootaloo squealed, and Applebloom was obliged to join in the “CUTIE MARK CRUSADER CARRIAGE DRIVERS YAY!” that followed. The carriage lurched sideways and onto the road, Sweetie panning the turret about.
“I wonder what this does?” Sweetie asked, her curiosity drowning out any common sense as she pulled the small trigger. Immediately the autocannon barked, a shot going into the sky. “I think I fired the cannon…” Sweetie said, embarrassment creeping into the foal’s voice. This soon turned into excitement once more. “I’m just like a Royal Guard, defending the country against evil monsters!” Sweetie Belle proclaimed, pulling the trigger again to punctuate her statement. Nothing happened, except for the boxlike auto magazine falling out of the bottom of the cannon, now empty. Sweetie looked over to the ammo rack on Applebloom’s side, but Bloom’s death glare shot her down.
“We gotta go back to the farm, girls…” Applebloom pleaded. Scootaloo shot her a sad look.
“Do we really? I mean we’re all out in the orchards and nopony heard that, and the cannon is empty now anyway.” Scootaloo protested. Applebloom couldn’t really do anything to sway that. “Besides, we’re taking this to Princess Celestia so she can see what to do with it.” Scoots said, making the words up on the spot.
The carriage continued down the road. Ponyville was nearing, and the members of the CMC were getting excited once more.
“Maybe we’ll get our cutie marks in taking things to the Princess?” Sweetie Belle suggested.
“But that’s a boring job…” Scootaloo, natural lover of action, said. The CMC would try anything to get a cutie mark, but like most foals they didn’t want to get stuck in as janitors or something boring like that.
“Y’all call this boring?” Applebloom asked. The other CMC turned to face her, confused looks dotting their faces.
“I thought you were panicking over this?” Sweetie Belle asked, looking into her seat’s scope.
“Well, if we’re taking it to Celestia, Applejack won’t mind! She’ll be happy about it!” Applebloom responded, convinced that what they were doing was reasonable. As always, excitement killed common sense. The rest of the CMC seemed satisfied with this explanation, and returned to their station. Sweetie Belle hadn’t figured out how to activate the coaxial machine gun, which was a good thing considering that it was fully loaded.
The carriage had by now reached the outskirts of Ponyville’s main road. Ponies were beginning to stare at the machine as it rumbled down the street, Sweetie Belle’s head poking out of the hatch and striking a salute, which in her head (and her head only) looked valiant and cool. To the other ponies, it looked like a foal piloting a dangerous and large carriage at a reckless speed, 16 KPH to be exact. Their honestly-reasonable response was to either panic and run or crowd into the sidewalks to avoid it, staring in wonder as the carriage rolled past, rumbling like a raging minotaur.
Applejack had just reached the Golden Oaks Library when she heard two distinct cracks in the distance. Her keen hearing identified it as from the farm, and fear quickly turned to anger as she realized that Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were coming over that day.
“Applebloom, y’all in for a talkin’ to…”
Author's Note
So how do you guys like this?
I do plan on continuing this story, just for anyone who asks.
Also, how does one get rid of the double author's note? Help would be nice.
