Sister Slaves (Built Upon Dreams, Paid in Blood)

The foreman of White Hills P.O.W camp stands on the deck of his watchtower office. Sipping his tea, he looks out over the one-hundred-and-fifty acres of his camp

– The borders of the camp are lined with thick wire-mesh fencing, the fencing base is made of three-feet-high reinforced concrete and barbwire adoring its top.

Within the walls on the left-side, three four-stories-tall, two-hundred-and-fifty-feet long, by eighty-feet-wide buildings sit on the left-hand-side of the camp. The building to the right houses stallions, the building to the left houses mares and the middle building houses children.

To the right of the camp is the prisoner-mess-hall. And at the back of the camp is an ore processing warehouse, copper refinery, shipment yard, and copper mine.

Outside the walls of the camp are seven watchtowers, a guards’ barracks, a mess-hall for the guards and camp’s staff, a medical bay, and a four-story prisoner processing station –

Feeling a cold breeze sweeping over the camp, the foreman takes the last sip of his tea and heads inside, stepping up to his table.

BRRR!

A loud fog-horn blares out over the camp. With a sigh the foreman steps back outside and looks up. A scout class airship descends from the night sky. Moving his gaze from the ship, he looks at the gravel courtyard of his camp and sees his guards are already preparing the camp for its approach. Stepping inside, he walks over to and control panel and flips a red-painted metal switch.

Alarms blare-out across the camp, waking any sleeping guards and staff. Even prisoners of the camp awaken from their slumber. The ones whose cells are by the large wall sized windows, look through their small cell-doors’ windows, and watch the airship as it touches down onto the gravel field. Some of them sigh and go back to sleep, while others keep interest, wanting to see the new arrivals.

With a bassy hiss, the airship’s landing pads level out. The ship’s crew extend the side-ramparts and exit their craft. Stepping off his ship, Moonlight waves to his men, ordering them to task. “Your ship has seen better days!” The foreman states walking up to the captain.

Moonlight gives a chuckle while walking up to the older stallion. “Nightingale! You look like shit!” He extends out his hand. “Get into any battles lately?”

Nightingale takes the gesture. “If you count government red tape, mounds of paperwork and my prisoners as battles, then yes, yes I have.” He watches his and the airship’s crew busing themselves. “How many?”

Moonlight shrugs his shoulders. “Fifty-five.” He walks towards Nightingale’s watchtower.

“Why do I get the feeling the number was higher?” Nightingale follows the young captain. “I doubt you’d chase down only fifty-five earth ponies of who knows how long?”

Moonlight sighs. “Fine… you’re right!” He grumbles ascending the stairs. “No sense in trying to hide it from you.”

“How many?” Nightingale returns the sigh.

“There were more, a hundred-and-one.” He gets to the door.

Nightingale places his hand on the door. “What happened to them?”

“Why do you care? They’re dirt-eaters!” Moonlight snarls.

“I care because f Prince Sombra’s laws!” Nightingale snarls back.

“Prince Sombra is not the ruling monarch, his brother is!” Moonlight shouts back as he pulls on the door opening it, only for it to be slammed shut by Nightingale. “What the hell!”

“His brother put him in charge of the motherland while he goes and fighter with the Royal Divisions!” Nightingale leans into the younger stallion. “I’m not saying I disagree with what you did to the earth ponies, whatever you did, but as long as Sombra is acting as the head of state for the time being, we must follow his laws…” He runs his hand through his mane. His horn sparks from the stress. “What do I say in my report?”

“Just say the dirt-fuckers fought back!” Moonlight snaps as he steps into the office. Nightingale follows after him, sigh all the while.

Moonlight walks up to the kitchen, a small, open space located to his right. Walking up to the percolator over the gas iron stove, he picks up a cup. “So…” Nightingale sighs, leaning on the island’s counter top. What the hell happened to you ship?”

Moonlight, chuckles. “A shit show…” He pours himself a cup of hot water. “I ordered my ship to fly over the eastern lines, nearly got shot out of the sky.” He places a tea bag into the cup.

Nightingale stands next to him and leans on the counter once more. “Why didn’t you just go around?”

Moonlight takes a sip. “I should’ve, but it was the shortest route to your camp.” He walks up to the dining table and takes a seat. Nightingale takes the seat across from him. “Anyways, enough about my fuckups, how’s everything going with the camp?”

Nightingale rubs his chin. “Alright… Sold twenty children to passing slave-traders.”

“Why sell off the younglings?” Moonlight sighs. “Aren’t they your best workers?”

Nightingale nods. “They are, but the traders were looking for young and healthy products, the market wants slaves that are easier to train apparently.” He leans back in his chair. “Leaving us with the scraps.”

Moonlight chuckles. “Well you’re in luck, we nabbed thirty-three children. All under the age of sixteen.”

“Nightingale nods. “That’ll work. We need the young blood, we have some prisoners that are nearing their end.” He rubs the base of his horn. “Going to have to sell them eventually.”

“Why not take them out back and you know… pop!” The captain chuckles, pointing his fingers on his right hand in the shape of a pistol.

Nightingale rolls his eyes. “Really after the conversation we just had… Very smart!” He mocks him. “I would prefer not to have a noose around my neck courtesy of Prince Sombra!”

Moonlight sighs. “He’s too soft on the enemy.”

Nightingale gives the captain a blank stare. “He would call it, being civilized.” He leans forward clasping his hands together. “After all, we are the most highly evolved species on this planet, it's our duty to be an example of that.” He states in a mocking voice of the prince.

Moonlight laughs at the gesture. “I’ve always hated that speech, he says it about every god damned month.” Moonlight sighs.

Nightingale nods. “I hope the king produces a hare…” He lays his head in his hands. “Imagine the shit Sombra would do if king.” Moonlight nods, saluting his cup to the foreman. “So what else brings you here besides the prisoners you have?” He takes out a cigarette.

Moonlight dips his tea bag in and out of the cup’s water. “I need t restock my ammo and refuel my ship. Could you spare some supplies?”

Nightingales grunts. “I can’t…” He rubs his brow, sticking the cigarette in his mouth.

“Why not?” Moonlight growls.

“You haven’t heard?” Nightingale asks, raising his brow in confusion.

“Heard what? No…” Moonlight finishes the last of his tea. “Our telegraph antenna was shot to hell during our flight!”

Nightingale rubs the base of his horn, its tip sparking. “The damn humans captured two of our supply ships and sabotaged the only road into this valley...” He gets up and walks into the ‘kitchen’ taking a drag. “Now I’m waiting for the trains to make the delivery. If you wait a couple of days, you’ll have what you need.” He picks up an apple.

“Humans, they think they’re the fucking police force of this world!” Moonlight growls, tapping his finger on the table.

Nightingale shrugs his shoulders. “They’re sure making a killing off of all the supply ships they captured.” He takes a bite of the apple. “It’s making this war a lot harder to fight.” He chews.

“Why haven’t they just declared war on all the nations involved in this war already!” Moonlight slams his fists against the table. “What happened to their bloodlust?”

Nightingale facepalms. “You want them to join in? Are you mad? Be thankful they’re just acting more like pirates than an actual force to be reckoned with!” Moonlight rolls his eyes, staring into his cup with a sigh.

The earth ponies listen to the commotion outside the airship. Many of them look at one another, asking silently if any understand what is happening.

Pinkie looks at her mother with wide eyes, her body shakes, her fur around her eyes are caked with discharge from her tears. Cloudy Quartz gives her a warm smile, a smile that tells her all is going to be okay.

Loud hissing pierces the silence.

The earth ponies fold their ears as they watch the put large metallic latches disengage, allowing the metal-rampart to drop. The rampart’s hinges squeal as the chains connected to the top of the rampart moves along the gears. Digging into the gravel road, the rampart groans as it comes to its resting place.

Several of the airship’s crew march up the rampart and make their way to the dead earth ponies.

One of the airmen unlatching Sun Flower from her chains, notices Pinkie floor clamp is missing. Taking a better look, he sees the bullet hole. “Aren’t you the lucky one…” He chuckles broken earthen, his accents making it hard to make out the words. Pinkie just stares at the stallion, watching him drag Sun Flowers body out of the ship.

One of the high-ranking camp’s guards walks up into the cargo-hold. Another stallion younger that him, stands to his right. “Starlightin vangit!” The high-ranking guard shouts.

“Prisoners of the Starlight!” The younger one translates for him. “You’ll be moved from this airship to your new homes. But first, you’ll betaken to the prisoner processing station!” He puts his fist over his heart. “NOW RISE!” Several guards light up their horns and unlatch the prisoners’ chains from their floor clamps.

Stepping out of the ship, Pinkie shivers as she feels the cold midnight air wash over her body. Trying to get her mind off the cold, she looks at her surrounding with chattering teeth. The buildings that surround her look like monsters to her. The multitude of windows dotting the structures stare down at her like prying lies, their gaze.

Feeling a forceful tug on her chain, she picks up her pace. Arriving at a metal table by the front of the ship, the guard sitting on the other side stares at her, studying her appearance. Writing down on a piece of paper, he points to his left. A guard comes up to Pinkie and unlatches her chain from her neck and wrist restrains. Another guard walk up to them and takes her over to a small of fillies.

Shoving her in the small group he walks back to the table to lead another prisoner to their respective group. Free from their chain’s and guards’ grasp, Pinkie looks around, scanning for her sisters. Seeing Marble, she quickly worms her way to her. Getting to her, she latches on to her and gives her a hug. “Pinkie!” Her sister mumbles, tears swelling around her eyes.

“Prisoners stay still and face forward!” The twins freeze and look at the guard. They see the business end of his rifle aiming at them. Shivering, they break their embrace and copy their fellow fillies.

“Sir?” The twins turn their attention to the voice and sees Rose Sapphire standing by the table, her newborn in her arms. “What do we do with her?” The airman asks the camp’s guard.

The guard studies her. “Take her to special processing.” He points at the prisoner processing building. “Third floor on the left.” With a nod, the airman takes her away from the table.

Obsidian and Ruby stare in horror as they watch their mother disappear into the bowels of the building. Feeling sick to his stomach, Obsidian places his hands on his knees, fighting the urge to puke. His sister, shakes uncontrollably. Fear consumes her soul and nightmares flood her thoughts.

Maud stares at her fiancé with pained eyes. She can not bare to she him in such a state. So, broken. So, weak.

With the earth ponies finally broken up by gender and age, the guards lead each group into the heart of the prisoner processing building and to their respective areas.

Feeling an imposing presence weighing heavy on their hearts, the twins glance up and stare at the four-story concrete block, with windows that glare down at with an evil gaze. They shiver from their wild imaginations as they near the large black double-doors.

Stepping into the building the guards lead the group of fillies down one of the four hallways. The hall they group finds themselves in, runs down the left side of the building. The fillies stare at the grey-blue tiles and dull grey painted walks with emotions ranging from dullness to fearfulness. But their attention turns to a set of doors and they near the end of the hall. Unlocking the doors’ latch, the guard swings them open allowing the fillies to file on through.

The room they enter is small and cramped… one, if they were in the right state of mind would not call it a room or treat it as such. At the end of the room by another set of double doors, sits a unicorn mare at a tiny table. She studies the group, counting heads. “Twenty-eight…” She writes down in a binder. “Send them on in…”

Leaving the claustrophobic space, the fillies enter a large atrium, its walls and floor covered in tiles. The harsh green lights humming above, forces the fillies to squint their eyes. Once they are able to open their eyes, the fillies come to an awe as they look upon a large six-feet-deep, ten-feet long, and five-feet-wide pool. The pool is filled with a soapy-liquid, black in color. The harsh chemical smell wafting off the liquid nauseates them.

“MOVE!”

They break their gazes and quickly obey commands being given to them. Lining up along a tiled wall, the guards have them face forward, their gaze eyeing a second-story balcony overlooking the atrium.

An officer walks into view, her eyes glaring menacingly at the fillies below. “Fillies, you’ll be going through this lice and flea bath!” She speaks into a microphone, her voice cold and dull. “The pool has two inclines at each end leading to a depth of six-feet. This chain will guide you along as you enter the pool.” She points to the chain running along a series of motors and gears hanging above the pool before going into and under the soapy liquid and back out, making a loop. “When you’re about to go under, take a deep breath and hold it in! My stallions do not want to haul your dead body away!” She shouts, glaring at the fillies below. “Once you’re finished with the bath, you’ll be lead to the showers.” She stares at the trembling fillies with a flat, dull stare. “Follow the commands given to you and make it quick!” She steps away from the microphone as she signals to the guards.

A guard walks up to Pinkie, his green eyes look at her with a dull sternness. She stares up at the unicorn, fear coats her eyes as she eyes the hunting-knife in his hands. “Undress yourself and walk up to the pool!” He states with an authoritative voice, pointing his knife at the pool. Pinkie’s stomach tightens, her cheeks blush, her tail instinctively wraps itself around her waist. She shakes her head. The guard frowns. “I said undress!” Again, she shakes her head, crossing her legs.

“I think she’s playing hard to get.” His comrade laughs.

“Well then, let’s do it the hard way…”

Confusion washes over Pinkie as she tries to understand their language, but soon her uncertainty turns into fear when he grabs the collar of her nightgown and brings his knife to her neck. She lets out a cry, her eyes close tight as she braces for the tip too pierce her skin. Instead, the blade cuts her nightgown in half. It gently falls to the floor around her hooves. Shock overwhelms her as she covers her flat chest with her hands. Her embarrassment increases when he grabs her underwear.

Seeing her sister’s discomfort, Octavia lunges at the stallion with a scowl. Catching a glimpse of the angry filly, a guard blocks her path and aims his semi-auto pistol. “Back off prisoner!”

The guard undressing Pinkie looks over at the two. “Shit, she already wants to go into solitary!” He laughs as he grabs Pinkie’s underwear. “Get her back in line!” His fellow guard nods and shoves her back in line and keeps his pistol trained her. Octavia, her sisters, and the fillies stare at the pistol and Pinkie in fear.

With a grunt he cuts the left side strap of Pinkie’s underwear, letting it fall to the floor. Fully naked, Pinkie tries her best to cover herself from prying eyes. With a sigh he shoves her forward, another guard grabs her wrists and lays them over each other.

Latching her wrists’ restraints to the chain, he looks up and waves to a guard by a control panel on the left-hand corner of the atrium. With a nod, the guard flips a switch, activating the motors of the chain’s pulley system. The chain squeaks along its path at four miles an hour. Pinkie’s arms jerk forward forcing her to drop her protective pose and break out into a light jog. Her cheeks redden with embarrassment.

Stepping into the pool, Pinkie squirms at the slimy texture of the soapy black liquid. Pin needle like sensations dance across her body as she sinks deeper and deeper. The stinging overwhelms her, causing her to lose moan out in pain.

Seeing that she’s about to go under, she takes a deep breath before the liquid washes over her.

Several seconds pass as she walks along the bottom of the pool. The soapy liquid flowing over her like molasses, soaking into her fur, mane, and tail. Suddenly she emerges from the pool, excess liquid runs off her causing the ramp to become slippery. Slipping, she falls hard onto the concrete ramp. Not being able to stand, she has no choice but to be at the mercy of the chain as it drags her up the last few feet.

Breathing through her snout the soap’s aroma gags her as well as making her light headed, her lungs struggling to asobre clean air.

Feeling someone grab her by her neck’s restraint, she tries to stand up, but the speed at which she is being carried forces her to let her legs dangle, her hooves scrapping and skipping across the ground.

Entering an icy room, the guard shoves Pinkie into a small tiled space no more that three four by four feet. Finding her balance, Pinkie braces herself against the wall in front of her. Hear paralyzes her as she feels hands around her neck. She feels and heard the dull clicking of her neck and wrist restraints’ clamps unlatching. Feeling their weight leaving her, she shutters a sigh of relief as she rubs her wrist.

Standing in the stall, she waits for more hands to assault her, but none do, only the subtle breeze, chilling her. With frustration taking over, she wipes the soapy liquid from her eyes. “AH!” a mighty stream of warm water slams into her sending her to the ground. She slides along the smooth tiles and smacks against the wall behind her.

“Stand up!” A guard yells, turning off the jet of water.

Pinkie quickly stands up, her legs tremble as she opens her eyes. She sees a unicorn stallion, wearing a navy-blue uniform standing in front of her. In his hands is a long metal pipe with a wide cone shaped nozzle. A long rubber hose is connected to the pipe’s handle. She traces the pipe and sees that it’s connected to the wall behind the stallion. Above, where the pipe connects to the wall, are and array of several dials and nobs.

“Stand by the back wall, arms and legs spread out wide!” Pinkie states at the guard in shock. She shakes her head, her stomach grumbles, making her sick. “Obey me!” The guard shouts with a grunt. “There’s more coming!” As if on cue Pinkie sees Maud, Marble and three other fillies being led on past her to their own ‘shower’ stalls.

With a shiver, she stands against the wall and extends her arms out. The guard’s frowns and sprays her face. She panics as begins to cough as she covers her face with her hands. “Spread your arms and LEGS, NOW!” She quickly obeys. Giving a chuckle he moves the stream of water from her face and begins rinsing her down.

Pinkie stands, sobbing quietly to herself, trying her best to ignore the stinging water the best she can. “EEP!” The water jet touches her vagina. Crying out, she covers herself. Tears flood her eyes as a storm of varying emotions and feelings fight for control over her mind.

“I said spread them!” The guard yells as he sprays her face once again. Pinkie puts her hands up, protecting her face. With a sly smile, he aims the stream over her vagina once more and keeps it there for a solid thirty seconds.

Pinkie sobs uncontrollably as she tries to rid her mind of her violation. “STOP! PLEASE!” She places her hands over her vagina. “You’re not allowed to touch me…! BLEARGH!” He sprays her face, his laughs sending chills down her spine.

“Turn around, I have to get your backside!” Pinkie hesitates, fear shutting down her will to move. “Turn, around!” He spits. With a small pathetic nod, she cooperates, showing him her backside. Wasting no time, he quickly sprays her down. She squirms as the stream touches her privates once again. With a chuckle, he shuts off the flow and waves to a fellow guard.

The guard grabs her by the back of her neck and leads her out of the shower room and up the stairs to the second-story. Getting to the top of the stairs, they down the hall until they get to the fifth door on their right. Opening the door, he shoves her into the room and shuts the door.

Alone, she lets out a moan as she crosses her arms and legs. Her trembling eyes look around the small office space. It’s pale-blue colored walls and white tile floors are unwelcoming. In front of her is a large metal table covered in boxes. To her left is a plane wall with nothing of value to study. To her right is a dark-wooden door.

Seeing the door to her right open, she sees a unicorn mare stepping into the room. She holds a towel with her magic. Pinkie watches as the towel floats up to her. She’s never seen unicorn magic before. It looks beautiful, graceful, soft… “MFFPH!” ‘Ok, not so soft…’ She moans to herself. ‘Why so rough?’

Drying her off, the mare tosses the towel into a basket and walks up to the boxes on the table and rummages through one. With a hum, she hands Pinkie and plain grey gown and white underwear. “Dress quickly.” Pinkie takes the items and puts them on. She groans at the rough cotton fibers of her new clothes. “They will, um… mika sana… Kylla, they will wear down eventually.” Placing her hands on Pinkie’s shoulders the mare gently leads to the room she came from.

Stepping into the room, Pinkie sees a mare sitting behind a metal table. There is a green desk lamp on the table as well as three picture frames, a clock, pen-cup, and a stack of papers. A stallion wearing a white-medical-coat stands to the mare’s right by a row of filing cabinets. Another stallion stands on the mare’s left beside a large mechanical device, with a lever sticking out the top and a row of metal teeth over a dye.

The mare at the table gives Pinkie a smile as she waves to the other mare. “Voit lahtea.” She states. “Please sit sweetie.” She says to Pinkie.

Hearing the door close, Pinkie slowly takes her seat on the metal folding chair. Her body trembling all the while.

With a hum, the mare opens a blue folder and pulls out a sheet of paper. “So, what is your name?” She asks, clicking the end of her ball-point pen. Pinkie eyes the tip of her pen. Her voice is stuck in her throat as she turns her attention to the mare, her trembling eyes staring to the mare’s calm firing green eyes. The mare sighs, “Name? Do you have a name?”

“Y-yes.” Pinkie mumbles through her clenched throat.

“Well then, speak it.” Her pen hovers over the paper.

Pinkie places her hands in her lap. “Pinkie…”

‘And your last name?” The mare’s left ear flattens.

“Pie…” Pinkie lowers her head, her eyes never leaving the mare.

The mare writes down her name and raises a brow. “Mika outo nimi…” She gives Pinkie a glance before returning her attention back to her task. “Species: Equine… Race: Earth Pony… Sex: Mare… Age?” She looks at Pinkie once again. “What is your age?”

Pinking crosses her legs. “Nine…”

The mare nods. “Fur color: Bright Pink… I think… Mane/Tail color: Magenta… Eye color: Blue…” She looks over the paper. “Dr. Zimmer check her health.”

The stallion standing next to the filing cabinets steps up to Pinkie. Placing his leather bag at her hooves, he pulls up a chair next to her and begins his work. Curious, Pinkie watches him put on a pair of thick latex gloves. She groans as he parts her mane, the latex feels weird to her as his fingers run along her scalp. He checks her face, neck, arms, legs, and back.

Seeing that her skin and fur looks healthy, he takes out an otoscope from his back and checks her ears. Pinkie twitches as she feels the warm plastic touching up against her inner-ear. He softly hums and writes down on a notepad. Giving her a soft smile, he switches out the otoscope for an ophthalmoscope and checks her eyes. With his task done, he rummages through his bag once more.

Free from staring at the blinding light, Pinkie clutches the sides of her seats and blinks her stressed eyes, trying to rid them of the dull blue dots floating across her vision.

Grabbing a small flashlight, he sticks an index finger in her mouth and runs it along her gums. The taste of the latex gags her. “Open your mouth and say ah…” The Dr asks. She obeys. With a hum, he places a popsicle stick on her tongue. Liking what he sees, he turns off the flashlight and tosses the popsicle stick in the trash.

Grabbing the stethoscope that hands around his neck, he places the hearing nibs in his hears, and gives Pinkie a small smile. “Please lift up your gown.” Pinkie blushes, she doesn’t want to, but the look the mare gives tells her otherwise. Whimpering, she stands up and lifts her gown.

Dr. Zimmer places the end of the stethoscope on her chest and listens to her heartbeat. He then moves it to several spots on her chest, her back, and her belly. With a hum he removes it from her chest and places it around his neck once more. “Sit back down.” Pinkie obeys, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

“Well? What’s the verdict?” The mare asks.

“Her fur and mane are healthy, no sores or skin conditions from what I’ve seen.” He sits next to her. “Her eyes are healthy, her ears are not infected with ear-mites and her gums and teeth are in good shape, but a couple of her foal-teeth are loose.” He takes off his gloves and tosses them in the trash.

With a nod, the mare looks back at Pinkie and sees her crying. “Stop crying, act like a big filly!” Pinkie jerks from the mare’s tone of voice and looks at her with wide eyes. “Good…” She writes down the information. “Alright, her number is 5178. Tag her.” She places the paper in a blue vanilla folder. And hands it to Dr. Zimmer.

Pinkie freezes at the mare’s words, even though she doesn’t understand them, the mare’s tone gives her the feeling that nothing good is about to happen.

The stallion by the machine with the lever, places some metal nibs in a bronze plate. He then places a dog-tag under the plate and pulls down on the lever. The piston pushes the nibs against the dog-tag. With a click, the stallion releases the lever and pops out the dog-tag. Picking it up he walks up to her.

Pinkie looks at the dog-tag in his left hand, and a pair of clambers in his right hand. In the clamber’s teeth, is a half opened bronze ring. Activating his horn, he pins Pinkie to her chair and keeps her head locked firmly in place. Panic washes over her as she watches the clamper and the dog-tag slide down to the base of her right ear.

CLICK!

Pinkie screams out in pain as the ring tears through skin and cartilage. She tries to escape but the stallion’s magic overpowers her. She sobs louder and trashes about. “Damn! Shut her up!” The mare hisses. The stallion nods and shocks Pinkie. Numb, Pinkie twitches and falls off her chair, landing on the floor. Tears pours down her face as she goes into the fetal position.

Getting back from his work station, the stallion bends down and puts a leather collar around Pinkie’s neck. Using his magic to lock it. Tears stain Pinkie’s fur as she stares up at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above her. Hearing the door open, she feels two sets of hands grab her arms and drag her out of the room.

Rose Sapphire sits in a small cell on the backside of the prisoner processing building. She coddles her newborn in her arms as she stares at the cold, unforgiving concrete walls. Her cell’s bed is hard, the down stuffing of the mattress and pillow, worn from years of use. Hearing sobbing, she gets up from her bed and peaks through the bars of her cell.

Across from her to her right is Golden Stone. She clutches her stomach, her eyes staring at her foal to be. “She just started crying.” Grassy Breeze, another mare with her own newborn filly, sighs as she looks at Rose Sapphire.

Rose Sapphire rests her head on the bars. “Golden Stone… Everything will be alright.”

“You don’t know that!” She clutches her head and lets out a wale.

“Stress is not good for the foal. You stop your whining!” Grassy Breeze tells the young mare in a stern tone.

“No… You don’t understand, I’ve heard stories from my brother… Unicorns cut open pregnant mares and eat their foals…”

“Now dear, only the pegasi do that.” Nightingale comments. “The three mares look over at the stallion. His white fur and grey mane shines in the bright light of the halogen bulbs. “Unlike the other species of this planet, we are more civilized.”

Rose Sapphire frowns at the stallion. “Slavery is not a trait of a civilized nation.”

“Neither is the belief in a god, my dear.” Nightingale rebuttals, stepping up to her cell. He places his hands on the bars. “Your race still practices child marriage, monogamy, discrimination against homosexuals and of course you all believe in a stallion in the clouds.” He laughs. “Tell me, where is he now?”

The mares stay silent unsure of how to answer him. Looking down at her son, Rose Sapphire feels a warm feeling wash over her heart. “He’s in our hearts.”

Nightingale looks at her with a flat stare, giving a soft hum. “Oh, of course. A typical answer…” He steps away from her cell and looks at the two other mares with a raised brow.

“What’s going to happen to us?”

Nightingale looks at Golden Stone with a hum. “Well, thanks to Prince Sombra’s laws, you’ll be living on the third and fourth story of this building until your children turn five years of age. Once they do, you and your children will be sent to the camp to live in your respective sections.” The mares look at one another, a calm yet fearful feeling washes over them. Seeing their expressions, he gives a chuckle before leaving the hall of cells. “Rest up, you’ll be moving to your new rooms soon…”

Stepping out of the prisoner processing building and onto the path to the camp’s gate, Nightingale sees that his men have finished cleaning and tagging his newly acquired batch of prisoners. Walking alongside the prisoners, he inspects his men’s work. He smiles. “You did it again men! Looks like I owe you those drinks I’ve been promising!” The guards chuckle a cheer.

Some of the earth ponies look on in confusion. Igneous, growls at the stallion’s words. ‘Drink yourself dead, pal…’ He thinks to himself.

Stands before the new prisoners, Nightingale gives them a smile. “Prisoners, I’m the Grand Marshal of the Unicorpian Prisoner War Camps!” He speaks to them is an accent-free earthen. “But here at this camp! I'm known as your foreman!” The prisoners look at the foreman with a mix of hateful and fearful glares. He chuckles at their expressions. “So, that means I make the rules around here! You’ll eat, sleep, work, breathe, even shit by them! Follow them to a ‘T,’ and you’ll be rewarded with gifts and praises. Break them, however, and your time here will be a miserable one…” The earth ponies look at one another with concern.

Looking at the gate’s operator, he motions him to open it. The gate rumbles as it rides along its tacks. As it hisses to a stop, Nightingale looks back at his prisoners. “Your time here will be spent, working the copper mine that’s a few miles from the camp as well as the copper refinery and processing plant right behind me.” He pulls out a cigarette, lighting it. “Meet quota, and you’ll be just fine, miss it and again, your time here will be a miserable one.” Looking at his guards, he waves his hands. “Goodnight, get some rest, you’ll need it.”

Entering their cell, Pinkie and Marble stare at the damp, dreary space. The metal door to their cell slides shut. A blunt bang rings out causing the twins to jerk and huddle close to each other. Shivering in fear, they look around looking at the furnishing of their cell.

Against the back wall on both corners, sit two cots. In the middle of the beds are a toilet and a sink. Behind them, above the door is a small six-inch-tall and foot-long window.

“I want Ma…” Marble cries on her sister's chest.

Pinkie shakes uncontrollably while her eyes jump back n’ forth between the cots. Fighting back the urge to cry, she carries her sister over to the left-side cot. Nearing the one on the left, she looks down and sees a dark red stain showing through the dark forest green color of the sheets. Feeling sick she quickly caries Marble over to the cot on the right. Seeing that it looks better than the other, she helps her sister climb into it.

Pressing her back against the cold concrete wall, Pinkie wraps her arms around her sister, letting out a shuttering sob. “Pinkie… I want Ma!” Marble cries, clutching her sister tight.

Pinkie wants to cry, she wants to fall into a wreak, but she’s older than Marble. She needs to be strong for her. “We’ll… We’ll s-see Ma and Pa… err…” She fights back a sob. “I… I… err…” Tears pour from her eyes as she tightens her grip. Her damn breaks and they both break down together, the weight of the day finally overwhelming them.

Octavia sits on her cot in the right corner of her cell. Her prison gown is over her knees. Her arms are wrap around her legs. She rests her chin on her knees as she stares at the window above the cell door.

An earth pony filly a lot younger than her lays in the other cot. Her appearance is worn, dark rings surround her eyes, her hooves and fingernails are rough and cracked. Her tan fur is coarse, and her golden-brown mane and tail are frizzy. Her brown eyes stare at Octavia with wonder.

Feeling the filly’s gaze, she turns her attention to the filly. Scared, the filly throws her sheets over her head. Octavia smirks a bit. “What’s your name?”

The filly uncovers one eye. “My name?”

Octavia smiles. “Yes silly, your name?”

The filly bites her nails. “1245…” She hides under her covers.

“12?... 45?” She shakes her head, “No silly, your real name?” Octavia sighs, “My name is Octavia.” She points to herself. “Now you tell me your name, not a silly number.”

The filly lets out a moan. “No… It's 1245…” She completely uncovers her head pointing to her dog-tag, her eyes glaring at Octavia. “We go by our numbers! They’ll beat you if you go by names!” She covers her head once more. Octavia stares at her in confusion. “What’s your number?” 1245 asks as she pulls the cover from her head, her eyes staring with wonder once again.

Octavia rubs her dog-tag and gives a frown. “I can’t read Unicorpian…”

1245 frowns and gets up from her cot, hobbling over to her cot. Octavia stares at the filly’s stride with a pain in her chest. Getting to the cot, the filly climbs on up and looks at Octavia’s dog-tag. “5188… Nice to meet you 5188.” Octavia frowns, she didn’t like being called by a number. “Can I sleep with you?”

Octavia is taken back by the filly’s question. “What?”

1245 cowers a bit and jumps off the cot. “Um… I sorry I…”

“Why do you want to sleep with me?” Octavia releases her legs form her gown’s embrace.

1245 rocks on her hooves. “I… I’ve been so lonely… I have been by myself for a long time…” She rubs the back of her neck and stares at the floor in confusion. “I think for five months?” Tears come to her eyes. “They sold my brother…” She studies Octavia’s expression. “I’m sorry… it sounds wrong to…” She misinterprets it.

“No… it’s quite alright, my sisters and I used to share a bed, before… this…” Octavia looks at the cell. “You can sleep with me.” The filly’s eyes light up with glee. “But, only if you tell me your name.”

The filly feels her chest get heavy. “No, I can’t…” She looks at the door. “They’ll beat us… No, you’re testing me, this is a test!” Seeing the filly break into a panic, Octavia jumps from the cot and grabs her in a loving embrace. “NO, I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK IN THERE!”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN THERE!” A guard yells from down the hall, his hoof steps can be heard walking up to their cell.

Quickly, Octavia places a hand over the filly’s mouth and holds her tight. “Shh…”

The guard opens the latch and shines his flashlight’s light into the cell. “What are you two doing?” He looks down at the two fillies. “Already starting trouble newcomer?”

Octavia shields her eyes from the light. “No… sir… She’s just having a bad dream.”

The guard looks at 1245 and gives a sigh. “Well tell her to keep it down, or she’s going into solitary.” He shuts the latch and steps away.

Octavia feels the filly tremble in her arms, her body heat spiking. With a tired sigh, she runs her fingers across the filly’s scalp. “You don’t have to tell me your name.” She holds her in a tight embrace. “You can tell me when you’re ready.”

Limestone lays on her cot. She’s alone in her cell. The other cot to her right is empty, she’s robbed it of its sheet and pillow. She lays face first on her pillows, allowing them to muffle her cries. Her body shakes, as she picks at the fur on her forearms. Her tail wraps itself around and over her small frame.

Maud lays against the corner wall of her cell. From her seat, she runs her fingers along Ruby’s scalp. Ruby herself, is fast asleep, her head using Maud’s lap as a makeshift pillow. Maud stares at the small window above her cell door. The light from the halogen bulbs in the cell block’s hall flood her cell with some light. Feeling her eyes getting heavy, she lays her head in the corner and falls to sleep.

“I’m going to kill you fuckers!” Obsidian punches the cell door. A dull thud echoes down the hall.

Igneous sits on the right-side cot, staring at the agitated young-stallion. “Colt, that’s not going to solve the pain in your heart!”

“They killed my Pa! They took my Ma!” She shouts at the elder stallion. “They probably killed her too!” He pounds the door some more.

“Keep it down!” A muffled voice yells from across the hall.

“You keep this up, and you’ll get yourself killed.” Ingenious spits. “Then what, you leave your sister, my daughter, your future child fatherless?” He gets up and stands before the young stallion. “Act mature!”

“I… I…” Tears flow from Obsidian’s eyes. “I want to kill them…” He turns around and madly pounds the door. “Come and fight me you fuckers!”

Igneous hears several guards making their way up the stairs. Thinking fast he pulls Obsidian into a side-headlock, placing his free hand over his mouth. “Shh… Silence!” He hisses into his ear. The guards walk down the length of the hall, passing their cell. He hears them speak to themselves, as they head back down the hall.

Obsidian hearing his prey walking away tries to break Igneous’s hold on him, but he is no match against the stallion’s strength. Quickly exhausting himself, Obsidian breaks down into a fit, his cries muffled by Igneous’s hand. Igneous brings the colt closer to him and lays his head on his. “Let it out colt… let it out, before a mare sees you like this.”

Cloudy Quartz sits on her cot, her hands clasped in prayer. Miss. Cheerilee looks at her in confusion. “Why are you praying? At a time like this?”

Cloudy Quartz looks over at the young mare with a frown. “What did you say?”

“Clearly our god has abandoned us!” Cheerilee growls, extending her arms. Cloudy Quartz sighs, getting up from her cot. “Look where we are, he will not answer our!...” Cloudy Quartz smacks her across the face. Cheerilee jerks back, placing a hand on her cheek, her eyes staring wide-eyed in shock.

“Never doubt our lord, our saver ever again young filly!” Cloudy Quartz gives her a stern yet loving smile. “Come pray with me… It’s days like these that we must be strong in our faith.”

Over in the cell next to them, Mrs. Cake hears their muffled voices. “Prayer… its what we need…” She lays her right ear against the concrete wall, trying to listen in on their payer.