The Atlantean-Dominion War

Chapters

Forward
2. Leaving Home
3. First Days of Training
4. Embarrassing Lunch
5. Wounded Commander
6. Many Surprises (And Some Discipline)
7. Letters From Home
8. The Battle of Pacifica
9. Reunion/Aftermath
10. Released From Drydock
11. The Battle of Cape Lune
12. Recovery
13. New Toys/ Night March
15. The Battle of Emberforge Valley Part 2
16. The Battle of Emberforge Valley Part 3
17. Regroup (Meeting Princess Mirage)
18. Trust Issues and Decoys
19. Attempt on Mirage
20. Changeling History
21. The Battle for the Hive (Second Battle of Emberforge Valley)
22. Changeling Reunion
23. The Battle of the Eastern Celestial Sea
24. Launch of Ember
25. The Second Battle of Pacifica Part 1
26. Brother Against Sister (The Second Battle of Pacifica Part 2)
27. Turncoat (The Second Battle of Pacifica Part 3)
28. Double Whammy (Second Battle of Pacifica Part 4)
29. Oh, Harmony
31. Ember Arrives
32. A Prince's Folly
33. New Arrivals In Town
34. Blast From The... 16-Inch Gun Barrel
35. The Siege of Nautinia
36. Redeployment
37. Conflicting Orders
38. Summercrest Confrontation
39. Teamwork Builds A New Ship
40. Nightmane In Nautinia
41. A Changeling's Job (The Battle of Whitecap Point Part 1)
42. Brute-Tastic (The Battle of Whitecap Point Part 2)
43. The Battle of Haven Cove Part 1
44. The Battle of Haven Cove Part 2
45. Weary Trails
46. Two Halves Make A Hole
47. Industry
48. Natural Disaster
49. Resupply
51. Operation Highland's Edge Part 2
52. A Changeling's Blossom
53. Reverse Interrogation 101
54. Lightning Rod
55. Pennant
56. Silver Flame
58. Voyage's End
59. Distrust
60. What Are You Doing In My Swamp?
61. Early Warning
62. Whispers in the Highlands
63. Storm Rigging
1. Something In The Water
14. The Battle of Emberforge Valley Part 1
30. Battlefield Rage (Second Battle of Pacifica Part 5)
50. Operation Highland's Edge Part 1
57. The Battle of Expedition Explore

Forward

I am Andromeda, daughter of the legendary Crimson Dawn and his wife, Rose Thorn. It has been nearly two hundred years since the devastating conflict of the First Equestrian World War. Granted, there hasn’t been a second one, but that’s okay. Nopony plans on another. Not after the first one.

The loss of life was substantial. Millions were killed relentlessly by King Sombra and his Army of Darkness. As the Equestrians liberated their cities, they found that Sombra had razed them. Thousands of ponies had no home, if they were even alive. I honestly don’t know how my father soldiered on.

By the ten-month mark since the beginning of the war between Equestria and the Crystal Empire. My homeland, Atlantis, and our most formidable enemy, the Dominion of Apollo, had joined on Equestria’s side. They bolstered the forces my father temporarily commanded by more than five hundred thousand mares and stallions. Each was willing to die for their cause, and Sombra nearly wiped them out with a destabilizing Gem. It then exploded and was never used again, the magic inside coalescing into seventeen alicorns, including the princesses Luna and Twilight Sparkle of Equestria. All were used as hostages until Sombra was finally defeated.

During the greatest battle of the war (and the time), Queen Atlanta personally lead the charge that broke into the fortress Dragonspire Citadel. She continued fighting long after her growing number of wounds should’ve let her. Her sunrise-orange battle armor, glowing radiantly in the twilight of early morning, was cut and bashed and bloodied. Now it lies in my care as I am the Queen of Atlantis. Sadly, Atlanta was hit by a volley of Russian machine gun fire that rendered her almost lifeless. Quick reactions saved her by slowing the projectile enough to not kill her. But in that moment, General Shattered Hope of the Crystal Empire rammed his sword through a kink in her armor. Clean to her heart, she died in seconds.

My own father sacrificed himself for me, transferring his life energy by way of my own magic when Sombra used shadow magic to slit my throat open. He kept me alive while he drained away, becoming nothing more than a crimson Pegasus dead on the steps to Sombra’s throne. By the time Princess Celestia came to help, as she’d been on the other side of the city, he was too long gone to be revived. His remains are at the top of the hill in the Marelington National Cemetery outside Nautinia, alongside Rose Thorn and Queen Atlanta.

But this is not to reminisce about those events. I have gathered what information I could from the ancient libraries of Nautinia to write this novel. This is about the Atlantean-Dominion War. How my father became the stallion I knew growing up. How he met my mother. How Atlantis defended its freedom and successfully threw back the Dominion forces invading.

The story of why Crimson Dawn was the way he was.

Author's Note

Feedback appreciated!

Besides that, I don't know what else to say.

2. Leaving Home

Crimson walked through the front door of his family home, closing the oak door behind him. “I’m home!” he yelled.

Crystal Shard bounded down the stairs. She was the most excited one when it came to her brother’s exploits. When she saw the dark blue uniform of the Atlantean enlisted, she stopped cold. Just yesterday, the Dominion had officially declared war on Atlantis. Now, her brother was headed to the fight. “Crimson, why?”

“I need to do this. Get out of this town for a while. Actually do something productive with my life. Besides, it might be fun. Platinum and Bats are going too. We’re in the same regiment!”

Just then, their mother, Shooting Star, walked down the steps. She took one look at her son and paled, if that was even possible for her white-hot coat. She was followed by the rest of the family. They were shocked in turn, but proud that the late bloomer had finally decided what to do.

Crimson’s father, Physics Psych, teared up. “At least you’ve decided. Wherever you go, I will support you. Just don’t go to the other side.”

“I’ll try not to, Dad.”

“When do you leave, Crimson?” Shooting Star asked.

“The train to the drill grounds leaves tomorrow at oh eight hundred. This is my last night before headin’ off, I’m afraid.”

The next morning, Crimson finished his last-minute packing and ate one final meal with his family. It was a somber affair, but Crimson’s parents had cooked up his favorite breakfast foods: pancakes, maple syrup, and waffles. He ate heartily. Somepony had told him the army food tasted like burned cardboard or something along those lines, so good food was to be relished.

“Crimson, wait! I packed you a lunch!” Shooting Star cried as her son walked to the bronze gates separating the house from the woods. He turned around with a goofy smile on his face, shaking his head in exasperation. She gave it to him and he opened it.

“Changeling-style cheese sandwich? You shouldn’t’ve, Mom!”

“You might as well have it. You’re the only one that likes it anyway.” She patted him with her right hoof. “Be careful, son.”

“I will. You worry too much!” With that, Crimson turned again and headed to the train station.

Summercrest Station was much more crowded than any local pony could ever be used to. Families wished their to-be soldiers farewell while others just stood there, a mixture of fear and pride plastered on their faces. Many of the teenage colts were leaving; almost half the town’s workforce had signed up. Ponies watched as the recruits boarded and left the lives they knew behind.

Two long, hollow, somber notes blew from the engine’s whistle. The wheels slipped briefly, then caught the stiff iron rails and pulled the train forward. Dark coal smoke blasted from the funnel followed by white steam as the engine worked. Slowly, the train pulled out of the station and picked up speed.

Crimson stared out the window. In this compartment sat Bats, Platinum, and two others. It was a lonely day for all of them, but they were determined to make sure it was the last.

“So, who are you guys?” Platinum asked the two others, Unicorns, in the compartment.

One of them looked up. “Northern Lights. He’s my brother, Southern Lights. We joined because our father said so. You?”

“Platinum Starlight. The bozo next to you is Bats. the guys staring out the window… we all know.”

“Crimson Dawn? The third-eldest son of Shooting Star and Physics Psych? I thought he was an adventurer.”

“We’re all leaving home, some with more legitimate reasons than others. Some of us think it’s a game, like Bats and Platinum. Other ponies see an adventure to tell their children when they come home and settle down. Still others believe it’s the right thing to do. I don’t know where I stand, exactly, but I plan on finding out.” Crimson said in a monotone to rival Maud Pie.

“Good point,” Northern Lights commented.

What came next was a surprise. Crimson started singing softly:

Sometimes even shooting stars
Find wishes that miss their marks.
But we travel on
Like the trail isn’t lost

When the night gets too dark
And the road home seems too far
We travel on
Like the trail isn’t lost

We are the Dawn of Ponykind
We travel on
We keep the trail
Our home may be behind us
But our hearts stay on the trail

Nothing we can do
Prevents war, famine, loss
But there’s a way we can postpone it
By using the Elements
As our light
Like the trail isn’t lost

The light to shine so bright
Is friendship, tried and true.
The green hills, the rolling plains
All in harmony
We keep it as a symbol
Of un-i-ty
Like the trail isn’t lost

We are the Dawn of Ponykind
We travel on
We keep the trail
Our home may be behind us
But our hearts stay on the trail

Our homes may be behind us
But our hearts stay on the trail
But our hearts stay on the trail.

Everypony else had hushed, expectantly listening. When he finished, they applauded.

“Red, I didn’t know you could sing!” Bats said excitedly.

“Neither did I!” Southern Lights agreed, speaking for the first time.

“That was goooood. Admit it.”

Crimson looked at the others. “I didn’t write that. My sister did. I just have a copy of the lyrics and do my best.”

“You know what,” Platinum said. “That should be our regimental anthem. We’ll stand out! I mean, nopony else has an anthem for their regiment!”

“Agreed!” everyone but Crimson practically shouted.

“Wait, what’s it called?” Northern Lights inquired.

“Crystal calls it ‘But Our Hearts Stay On the Trail.’” Crimson replied.

“Well, we got nothin’ else to do. You could teach us.”

They spent the rest of the trip learning the soft song that seemed to inspire them to win.

Author's Note

Feedback appreciated.

3. First Days of Training

“Privates Crimson Dawn, Platinum Starlight, Northern Lights, Southern Lights, and Batrocious Nightmane, you are to report to Colonel Silvercrest in five. Down the row, seventh on the left. Next!”

As the group walked away from the career trainer Sergeant Rolling Plains, known by everypony as the Sarge, Crimson stole a glance towards the hospital tent and saw a dark pink Unicorn. Her hooves were green with flames licking up her legs, and her mane and tail had quite the leaf-green appearance. She looked back at him as if she knew the direction his gaze took him and smiled sweetly. Those deep green eyes…

He shook his head, but his eyes wandered to her again. A simple red cross with a green border and an odd-looking army helmet sitting at an angle on top was her cutie mark. Again, Crimson shook himself. As a young stallion, he had to try to keep certain… emotions from controlling him.

A dazzling white Pegasus mare saw the look on his face and walked over. “You lookin’ at Nurse Lieutenant Thorn, recruit?”

“Nurse Lieutenant Thorn?” he asked in reply.

“Yeah, recruit. Nurse Lieutenant Rose Thorn, to be more specific. She’s the hottest gal this side of the Celestial Sea, according to The Nautinia Stallion’s Magazine. I was lucky just to get her name. The mare’s shyer than one of my classmates in Cloudsdale, Fluttershy. And that’s sayin’ a lot.”

“You went to Cloudsdale, ma’am? What for?”

“To study their cloud factory three years ago. Oh, where are my manners? I’m Colonel Moonshine Silvercrest, commanding officer of the Second Coastal Regiment. You?”

“Private Crimson Dawn, ma’am, Second Coastal. These are Privates Platinum Starlight, Northern and Southern Lights, and Bats.” He gestured to his friends as he introduced them. “We’re all in the Second, and we were supposed to report to you about now.” Then, in a spur of memory, he saluted as best he could.

“No need for the salute, kid. Come on, you and your buddies. I’ve been trying to round up the regiment all morning, and you guys are the only ones to have checked in with the fearsome Sarge. I think the rest are chillaxing in the mess. Help me out and you’re on your way to lookin’ fancy with an insignia.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The five followed Colonel Silvercrest to the mess tent. Sure enough, a whole bunch of recruits lazily lounging around, munching on sandwiches. Crimson looked at the officer, who grinned. The next thing to happen was pure hell for the eating ponies.

“Anypony here in the 2nd Coastal? If you are and don’t check in with Sergeant Plains in TWO MINUTES, you’ll be marked AWOL!” she bellowed with a voice that must’ve carried all the way to the musket training grounds on the other side of the camp.

Immediately, sixteen ponies jumped to their hooves with the sandwiches falling to the grass floor in varying stages of eating. They ran to their gear, neatly stacked to the side, and bumped around.

“Ma’am, do you know where Sergeant Plains is?” one asked worriedly.

“Show them, will you, Private Dawn?” she asked, and turned around, calling, “Private Dawn will help you.”

“Who?”

Crimson raised his hoof. “Me. Now follow if you don’t want PT duty tonight!”

They scrambled after the now-striding red Pegasus. Silvercrest watched with amusement as their light trainee armor clanked louder than gunshot. He’s been under my command for less than five minutes, and he’s already looking like a good NCO, she thought to herself. Private Dawn might refuse the promotion, preferring to stick with his friends, but that’s okay. He’ll do fine either way.

A few minutes later, Crimson returned to his commanding officer with twenty extra lost ponies on top of the sixteen he’d been guiding. Silvercrest smiled when she saw Platinum and Bats getting the nervous ponies’ spirits up with a pun about seafood diets. She could just barely hear it:

“I am on a new see-food diet. I see food, and I eat it!” A few smiles appeared for a moment.

“This it so far, Private Dawn?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll go look for more.” With that, he was gone.

Silvercrest looked around at the forty-odd Atlantean recruits before her. “He’s gonna be your first NCO as greenies in this regiment, and he’s been here for less than half an hour! Now, sure, the 2nd Coastal has seen some action. As far as I’m concerned, the other five hundred you’ll be serving alongside are busy keeping the Dominion just outside the border. But that kid’s a natural-born leader, whether he sees it or not, and he already outranks you guys!”

Shocked gasps went through the forty recruits. The local mathematics teacher’s kid was getting a promotion after less than a hour? What was this madness?

Crimson quickly returned with the sixty others being sent to the 2nd Coastal. When he did, Silvercrest gave him an insignia representing E-2. with a questioning look in his eyes, he accepted it and tried to pin it on his uniform. The colonel eventually ceased his struggle by helping him pin it.

“All of you greenies are witnesses. Private Dawn has been promoted. I don’t have any Warrant spots open yet, but you’ll act like he is one. Got it?”

“Yes, Colonel!” came the chorus of replies.

“Good. Get your stuff and follow me to the train station. Your training will be closer to the actual fight so you can be a reserve for the rest of my boys. Ten minutes!”

Crimson sat in the aisle seat next to Silvercrest. She preferred the window seat, and rank let her have it. Across from them sat Platinum and Bats.

“So, Private Nightmane, why is your first name Batrocious?” she questioned.

“It’s a pun on the word ‘atrocious,’ Colonel.” he replied. “My father is the ‘old haggard running all the boats’ and my mother’s a thestral. Her ancestors served as Princess Luna’s personal guard before the NM incident. They fled Equestria rather than changing the ages-old family name directly after because of the paranoia around anything starting with ‘night’.”

“Not to mention ‘Nightmane’ sounds a tad too much like ‘nightmare.’” Platinum interjected. “Ma’am.”

“So, you’re half thestral, half pony. I’ve met one before. He was a crazy thing, always doing something to get out of flight school. But judging by your apparent lack of wings, I can assume you won’t do the same in my regiment?”

It wasn’t a question even if it sounded like one. It was an order. “Yes, ma’am.”

She galnced at Crimson. “Private Dawn, you seem to be upset about going to war for your training.”

“Ma’am, we had this adventure-ish excursion a few days before signing up. We took Bats’ boat and sailed around ‘till we saw an iron vessel sitting on a sandbar. I don’t want to think about what was inside.”

She sensed fear. “Right.” She then turned the conversation to her own life, trying to keep a friendly attitude towards those under her command.

The crack of gunfire rang out on the training field. Crimson and his friends were getting some live-fire practice with the rest of the recruits. Yelling at them over the projectile-blasting explosions was a grumpy, graying stallion called ‘Martian’ for so long nopony even remembered his actual name anymore. He called for a ceasefire and to form ranks for a charge. In the two minutes it took for the ‘greenies’ to ready, he ordered them to reform behind the earthen mound.

“Too slow, dammit! They’re coming again!”

After several grueling hours of insulting torment, they finally did it in a speed that satisfied the Martian. At one point, Silvercrest came to watch during a lull in the distant fighting, and saw Crimson trying to encourage the others to go again. He even kept them at it after Martian left for the mess tent.

“Come on! We can do it faster than he trains us! Up and at it, fellas!”

It was another hour before Crimson was done. “Good job. Now let’s get some food!” He had to run to make sure he got some of the good stuff before those thinking they could give him orders took it. Most of the others despised them for it, and believed they’d go AWOL and return home the first chance they got.

Silvercrest joined him after he sat and began eating. “I see you’re pushing them.”

“The war’s coming whether we’re ready or not. I just want us closer to the former.”

“It wasn’t a reprimand, nor a compliment. Your reasoning is sound, just not the execution. We can work with that. I want you on the lines, though. Not so that you have a high chance of dying, but for the experience. But the Queen’s order is a full month of training before they set hoof in a trench. Since she never explicitly said where that training took place, I brought you recruits here for it. It’s as close as I can get without breaking the law.”

“Thanks, ma’am.” Crimson picked at a spinach leaf. Something was clearly on his mind.

“Spill it, Private. You’re worried.”

“My sister. I just hope she stays safe behind our armies. And what’s the point of this ‘shoot and countercharge’ thing if the Dominion gets to the line? We haven’t trained for that, and we started two weeks ago. There’s less than a week left.”

“By Harmony, you’re right! Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll have the Martian drill it in the others. But all my NCO’s get schooled by me in that. It’s a technique I’ve used time and time again, and my devotion to such has saved me on many occasions. Meet me on the grounds at the top of the hour, and we’ll get started.”

Author's Note

Feedback appreciated.

4. Embarrassing Lunch

Crimson panted heavily and dropped his D7-model Atlantean short sword. Just across the field, Colonel Silvercrest wasn’t even breathing hard. She swung her own short sword, an E9-model, in a lazy arc and stabbed it into the ground. “Come on, Private. You need more endurance than that. Half an hour is way too short to live the battle, especially in melee.”

“I know, ma’am. This thing’s just so heavy.”

“It’s lighter than this cutlass.”

“It is?” Crimson plopped over on his side. “Now I know I’m screwed.”

She chuckled. “You will be if you don’t try to change it. Besides, you’ll be wearing armor in an actual battle. So this round realistically lasted about five minutes.”

Crimson groaned long and loud.

“Alright, alright. It’s lunch time anyway.”

She walked over to pick him up, but he struggled to his hooves. They walked to the mess tent, mentor and student, and sat down. The others clearly wanted to know how the new NCO was doing with the regiment commander as his teacher, and he wasn’t complaining. Moonshine Silvercrest did her job with a dazzling beauty that entranced him, but he suspected most of his energy was used keeping focused.

“I know what you’re thinking, Private. A pretty thing like me shouldn’t be here.”

Platinum chose that moment to arrive. He burst into laughter at Crimson’s reaction to the statement. His friend gave him a warning look, but not before the rest of the “greenies” had turned around and joined the Unicorn.

“I… ah… That’s not what I was thinking, ma’am!”

“The what were you thinking?”

Platinum sat next to Crimson. “I’ve known him for years, Colonel, and can see right through his face. He’s got the hots for you, ma’am.”

“No I don’t!”

“Denial!” chorused the entire mess tent.

“You wouldn’t be the first.” Silvercrest assured, picking at the food. She giggled. “Just about every one of my career officers and NCO’s think it.” She looked up from her food and saw Crimson with his head buried in his hooves on the table. If it was possible for the Pegasus’s cheeks could get any redder than they naturally were, she suspected they would be.

“And in that moment…” Northern and Southern Lights started simultaneously.

“Crimson Dawn knew…” his Bats continued.

“He done fucked up.” Platinum finished. The four howled with laughter, leading the rest of the recruits into doing the same. Even the colonel smiled and giggled cutely.

After Crimson finally stood up and left, Platinum realized his mistake and followed. “Wait! Red, we were only joking!”

“If you guys didn’t act like complete assholes during meals, you just might help my mood.” Crimson’s voice had an edge to it, as if he wanted to just be left alone.

“Whaddya mean?” Platinum was never one to pick up underlying tones.

“I feel like shit, Plat. Have been for days. And yes, between us, I do have feelings for the colonel. You guys simply hit a nerve, so I left.”

“Your personal training making you feel like shit?"

“No. I - I haven’t been this far from home this long. And I don’t wanna die. I saw some of the casualties when they interrupted the training.” He turned to face his friend. “They were mangled, Platinum. Their legs, their body, just torn apart by bullets. Like they were hit by a magic speed-drill. One poor stallion had his ear blown off. I guess the lucky ones die when it hits them.” Crimson shuddered, his face showing an amazing amount of fear. “Just don’t let it happen to you. Or any of our friends."

“You don’t needta worry. Come on, lunch ends in ten.” Platinum guided the shivering Pegasus back to the mess tent.

Author's Note

This was fun to write. I finally had a reason to make fun of my main character.

Feedback appreciated.

5. Wounded Commander

“Pull out! Come on, greenies, move it! We gotta get to the station!” Colonel Silvercrest yelled. All around her, the tattered remnants of the 2nd Coastal Regiment raced to pack up all necessary supplies and hurry to the train station.

They were in retreat. Back near the town of Pacifica, the Sarge sent a message regarding a Dominion breakthrough. All border patrol regiments were to pull back towards the major towns before the Dominion exploited this gap further and cut AREA in half. Even if they hadn’t needed to go, Sarge would’ve relayed the order anyway. There just wasn’t enough trained ponies to hold the border. Silvercrest also lost a full third of her trained regiment to new Dominion weapons that were much more accurate than muskets. Staying was a death sentence.

The trampled grass churned to mud with a late-spring freeze the night before, but the wet ground was the least of their concerns. The once-distant gunfire had come much too close already; the three hundred odd ponies left besides the recruits down to their last trench before the camp was overrun.

Crimson waved his musket in the air, directing his comrades where to go to get to the station. He himself was already packed up. His friends were as well and lined the road to the train station at intervals, directing under his orders. The trek was less than a mile, but scared ponies still needed guidance.

A bright green flare shot up from Platinum Starlight’s horn from the waiting train. The signal Silvercrest was looking for had arrived: the train was ready for departure and loading quickly. She leaned her head back and howled. It was her retreat call: only she could do it, as her Unicorn mother was bitten by a werewolf, and it scared the hell out of the enemy because ponies don’t howl. That split second of surprise allowed the two hundred fifty remaining defenders to get out.

A Dominion sniper fired his rifle at the source of the howl, trying to kill what he suspected was a timberwolf. The voice cut off abruptly, but in a mare’s cry of pain. It was immediately followed by a rush of defense around a small mound in the Atlantean camp.

Crimson was already halfway to the station himself by the time Silvercrest was hit. He didn’t understand the issue, but kept running. “Come on! Get on the train!” he called to Northern Lights as he ran past.

Silvercrest opened her eyes to the lolling head of a dead stallion. They shot open the rest of the way and she looked around. Somepony was placing her on a stretcher. She pulled her steel helmet off and looked into it. A small but deep dent with a bloody hole marked where a bullet had slammed into it. The criss-crossing pattern of steel layered with bronze had saved her life. Around her, only twenty of the original fifty that had formed a circle around her remained, falling as the more accurate Dominion guns put holes in their targets.

Two Pegasi carried her to the station and she mumbled, “The circle… They came for me...”

“Private, help us out!” one of the Pegasi, a lieutenant, called. Silvercrest rolled her head to see Crimson getting ponies aboard the train. “She’s going into shock!”

Crimson whirled around. He took one look and cleared a path himself. The colonel was carried aboard and placed in a hastily-made medical ward in the frontmost car. A single earth pony doctor hurried to her aid and began conversing with the Pegasi that brought her in. He grimaced at the description of her wound, then asked for clean bandages and disinfected tweezers. A Unicorn gave him the supplies and he started.

He worked the tweezers into her wound, getting some blood to come out. “Hey, somepony get me a heated rod! Glowing hot! I’ll need to cauterize this. She’s lost too much blood to live unless I do!” He pried the bullet out of her skull and wiped the tweezers, then did the same thing for two jagged pieces of metal. “Sorry, Colonel, but I had to leave the anesthetic behind. Bite this,” he said, giving her a bit. She clamped down hard. The doctor turned to see the same Unicorn come up with an orange-hot rod with a flat end, fresh from the engine. “Alright, you jam that into the wound. I’ll hold her down.”

The Unicorn looked at him incredulously. “Do it now or I’ll ram it up your sorry ass!”

The Unicorn pushed the rod against Silvercrest’s head wound. The searing pain caused her to jerk suddenly and it almost hit her eye. The doctor, true to his word, held her still while the rod was pushed harder. When the scent of burning flesh reached his nose, he motioned for the Unicorn to stop. The Unicorn backed away, frightened to all hell that he just had to jam a hot metal stick against his commanding officer’s head. The doctor smiled at him. “Don’t worry about retaliation. You just saved her life.”

Silvercrest tilted her head on the bloodied stretcher and closed her eyes.

The Pegasus woke to the screeching of the train’s brakes. It halted and ponies filed out wearily while the medical division waited for the car to clear more. Then she was carried out and placed in the Pacifica Encampment Medical Ward, groaning the whole time.

“Shh. You’ll need to stay here for a week.” The soft voice of a determined but shy medical officer was barely heard over the racket around her.

“Nurse Lieutenant Rose Thorn. How are you on this fine night?” Silvercrest groggily replied.

“I’m fine,” the Unicorn said quickly. She unwrapped the bandages covering the colonel’s head wound and replaced them.

“I know that look. You like somepony.”

“I can never hide things from ponies, can I?”

“No, you hide it pretty well. I just smell it.” Silvercrest made sniffing noises like a wolf, and the two laughed quietly.

“Fine.” Rose Thorn lowered her voice. “You know that red Pegasus under your command?”

“Which one? The officer or the NCO?”

“The young one. He acted like he had orders directly from you when the train arrived. Even the lieutenant couldn’t get him to stop. Almost got arrested for insubordination, but his argument was that you were his mentor. Until you said otherwise, he took orders from only you. They couldn’t counter that.” Her face flushed darker than normal. “It’s him. He’s cute.”

The colonel’s head spun. The shyest mare in the army liked the one colt who stood his ground against an outranking officer? That sounded like Private Dawn alright. “You do realize he like you too, right?”

“Everypony likes me. That isn’t saying much.” Rose Thorn stood from her slight crouch. “I’d better get going. More wounded are coming in.”

Silvercrest turned her head towards the dark pink Unicorn, who was walking away now. “I wanna get up,” she pouted mockingly.

Author's Note

Feedback appreciated.

6. Many Surprises (And Some Discipline)

While Colonel Silvercrest recovered in the field hospital, the task of keeping the Second Coastal fell largely on the Lieutenants. They divided up the various issues “equally,” with the acclaimed NCO Private Dawn getting most of the work piled on him. The others thought it was because of the incident when they arrived, but then the NCOs of different platoons pulled chunks off and explained that they always did it whenever they could. As good a commander as Silvercrest was, she happened to not notice the officers below her most of the time. When she did, she cracked down. But her in the hospital, the Lieutenants and such thought they’d get away with it.

“Thanks,” Crimson told them as they all sat down for lunch that day.

“No problem. We’ve all done it for each other, and the Colonel says you’re the new guy. It also makes you look a lot better with speed. But with those lazy-asses in charge, we make do while they get reprimanded and sometimes demoted,” one smiled. He was the Unicorn Sarge’s own younger brother, but didn’t look anything like Sarge. Instead of a grass-green coat, a dirty blonde mane and tail, and a wheat cutie mark, the Earth pony Chief Warrant Officer Treetop had a joker card cutie mark over his grey coat and a jet-black mane and tail. He also normally wore a poker face. “We’re all one big not-necessarily-happy family here in AREA, after all.”

“I wonder how Silvercrest is doing.” Crimson commented right before a shriek combined with a wolf’s howl reached their ears from the hospital tent. All seven of the NCOs and the red Pegasus shot to their hooves and raced to its source.

“This is why I- ah!” Silvercrest shrieked again when another contraction pulsed through her. “Damn honeymoon.”

“This is why mothers don’t run the army, Moonshine.” Rose Thorn said. Soothingly, she added, “I’m not holding this against you.”

“If only I hadn’t married last year, I’d be-” She was interrupted by another contraction and her head wound opening up again. “Harmony dammit. I should’ve remembered the date better.” Through clenched teeth, she screamed yet again.

“What the actual hell is happening with Colonel Silvercrest?” Treetop loudly asked the medical officer at the entrance to the hospital tent. “She be screamin’ like the end of the Harmony-damned world!”

“Remember last year? She got married and apparently busy as well. Just your luck; she’s choosing her replacement for the duration of maternity leave as soon as it’s done.” he replied.

“I was wondering why her bellys was rounder than most, and why she tended to tires more easily. Not that she ever let thats show,” Warrant Officer Woodpecker stated. He looked just like his namesake: fairly tall, skinny, interesting pattern, and a bird-like tail. He was also one of the few pony omnivores to ever exist. “The Colonel never lets being tired get in the way of dutys, so we didn’t really notice. But her diets did get quite a bit more nutritious these last few months.”

The others agreed. If Silvercrest had been with child, she’d naturally try to hide it from her comrades and go on. That was just her style, and it was successful as fuck.

“Well, here’s to her new kid,” Crimson said, holding a half-empty cup of army-authorized hard cider. The others nodded and held their pretend ones to his and they all drank. Then the real cup passed around the circle.

They walked back to the mess tent with giddy smiles all around. When they came back in, First Lieutenant Polar “Major Asshole” Icecaps stomped in their way, demanding a good enough reason for them to be absent during lunch roll call.

“Well, you see, sir, we’s all heards Colonel Silvercrest screamin’ likes a stuck pigs. When we gots there, we asked the dudes at the fronts, ‘Whut the fuck’s goin’ on?’ He saids the Colonel’s givin’s birth right now, so that’s why she be screamin’. Apparently she hids it from us all those past eleven months,” Woodpecker said.

“You expect me to believe that ridiculous story when you can’t even speak polished Equestrian?” Icecaps raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Major Asshole, we do,” Treetop replied. “Unless you’re wanting us to pull the guy at the entrance over here to confirm it, you will drop the subject. Just because you outrank me doesn’t mean Colonel Silvercrest actually trusts you more. In fact, she’d rather have Second Lieutenant Shortcake over the both of us combined.”

Icecaps burned with fury. The lowest cooking officer in the army, preferred over him? It didn’t help that he had a crush on the mare. “You dare? I’ll arrest you for insubordination!”

“Yes, I dare. And in case you haven’t noticed, Lieutenant, there’s a Major right behind you.” Treetop said as he recognized the insignia on the stallion’s uniform as he strode over. He saluted the Major briskly. “Sir.”

Icecaps turned around and saluted. Having a pissed-off Major staring directly into his eyes was unnerving. “Sir.” he gulped.

“What’s this about Colonel Silvercrest? NCO first.”

“Chief Warrant Officer Treetop, sir. My fellow NCOs in the Second Coastal and I heard what we assumed was Colonel Silvercrest based on the distinct wolf’s howl in her voice. We hurried to the hospital tent, where we knew she was ‘cuz of her head wound two days ago, and asked the guy at the entrance what was happening. He told us her kid’s coming. So we came back to finish lunch.” Woodpecker, Crimson, and the other NCOs with them nodded agreement.

“Alright. And you, Lieutenant?”

“First Lieutenant Polar Icecaps, sir. I am in command of the Second Coastal until further notice, sir. I was concerned that they were using the Colonel’s name inappropriately.” Icecaps held back another gulp.

“I just came from Medical. It also turns out that I hoof out disciplinary actions around here,” the Major stated cooly. “And yes, the Chief Warrant is telling the truth. However, your statement about being in command of the Second Coastal is incorrect, Lieutenant. Colonel Silvercrest informed me herself that the care of her regiment in her absence falls on the Non-Commissioned Officers until further notice. She says they do all the work you dump instead of doing it yourself. You and the other commissioned officers of the Second Coastal Regiment are to report to my division at fourteen hundred hours.” The Major turned to Treetop. “You, Warrant, will coordinate your regiment. Do not make me feel as if I made a mistake. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, sir.” Treetop held back an audible gulp of his own. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

“It won’t be me, Lieutenant. It will be your Colonel.”

“Yes, sir. Wait, Lieutenant?”

“Yes. No regiment may be led by an NCO under any circumstances unless he or she is all that’s left. You’ve been promoted. Is there a problem with that?”

“No, sir.” Treetop said quickly. He was still getting over his initial shock. Woodpecker pushed his hoof up to close the newly promoted Treetop’s dropped jaw. It shut with an audible clunk. The Major walked started to walk away and Icecaps brought Treetop to his eye level.

“Don’t think you and your buddies can get away with this, punk.”

“WHAT WAS THAT, LIEUTENANT ICECAPS?” came the Major’s thundering roar.

“Nothing, sir!” Fear was plastered all over Icecaps’ face, with his eyes a full mile wide.

“I thought so.” The Major continued to walk back to his table.

The group of NCOs and Treetop walked to their own. The whole way was lined with their comrades congratulating the Earth pony on his promotion. It was in interesting lunch, to say the least.

--------------------

“Forward march!” Treetop called. He led the way as the Second Coastal Regiment went down to Martian and the training grounds. It was directly after lunch break, and everypony wanted to be a good impression since their officers were literally just sent to Discipline and probably the whipping post - maybe even dishonorably discharged. Treetop had to do his best with what experience he had - which wasn’t much.

Bats tripped in the front row, much to the amusement of those watching. Treetop was about to do something when Crimson stepped up and did it for him. “Get back in line, Bats! Watch your step before we become the laughingstock o’ the army!”

“Sorry, sir!” Bats called back.

Crimson had no response. He didn’t know what the protocol was, so he had no idea how to proceed. The good thing was that nopony else among the NCOs and his friends did either. They decided to have a talk about marching discipline later, pushing it to the backs of their minds.

When they got to the training grounds, Martian was waiting impatiently. “Everypony in your spot, just like before! Get a sword and be ready for the best workout yet!” The ponies of the 2nd Coastal groaned simultaneously. Whenever Martian said, “Best workout ever,” they typically were going to pass out by the end if it weren’t for dinner. They grabbed their wooden training swords from the rack and stood in their “squad spots."

“Right! Left! Jab! Overhead swing! Swap with your right! Backhoof! Uppercut! Left! Jab! Overhead! Left! Swap with your left! Right!” And so on. Eventually, the dreaded card was pulled. “Shield wall!” The ponies up front took out their wooden-and-steel shields while those behind them formed up two ranks deep. Then the middle rank took out their own shields and filled remaining holes in the line. “Too slow!” Martian called. “Squads, now!” When the weary troops finished shuffling back, he yelled again. “Shield wall! We’re doing this until you colts give me speed!” More groans came.

Author's Note

The reason you guys didn't know about Silvercrest's little pregnancy is the same reason her regiment didn't: she hid it, and she hid it well. Nothing more to say.

This Major will remain nameless.

How do you guys like Woodpecker's language skills? I mean, he ain't supposed to be the brightest, but he ain't stupid, either.

I really like this chapter. Feedback appreciated.

7. Letters From Home

“Hey, Red! Mail’s here!” Platinum called, walking to his friend, who was sitting at a desk just outside the regiment administration tent.

Crimson looked up from his admin paperwork. He’d offered to get the regiment’s paychecks hoofed out for Treetop. It was boring and repetitive. “Probably not any for me. You can pass it around.”

Platinum grinned and moved to take a single letter from the stack. “On the contrary, Red, this one’s for you.” Turning to the other milling ponies in the 2nd Coastal, he yelled, “Private Dawn’s got a letter from home!” The ponies hurried over, knowing Crimson’s mail sometimes contained news about their shared home in and around Summercrest.

“Harmony dammit, Platinum,” Crimson grumbled. He proceeded to open the envelope and take out the letter. “Alright, here we go.” He read:

“Crimson, it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. It was only two months ago when you signed up to go to the war. I can remember that day. You were so confident then.

“I got my cutie mark yesterday! Turns out I’m best at jewel polishing and refinement. It ain’t the coolest talent, but it’s definitely fun to go and make a gem look like somepony’s face.

“Bats’ father, the harbormaster, received word from Queen Atlanta herself about the steel ship we found in that sandbar. She’s coming over to see it with her own eyes, and apologizes for not responding sooner. It’s been busy around here since then, with all the upgrades and housecleaning everypony’s doing. Rumor has it she’ll authorize its reverse engineering right in Summercrest Shipyard, or better yet - restore it! But if she decides the expense would be too great to put it back together, at least we’ll get to keep one of the big guns - eight inch tubes and its ammo! That’s huge!

“As always, your beloved sister, Crystal Shard.”

The audience gasped collectively. The Queen was going to their hometown for a visit! Confidence soared higher than Canterlot Mountain was tall. Then Platinum said, “That’s awesome, and also three weeks old. However, our NCO here’s got more mail today. More recent, too.” Crimson glared at him and read the next letter:

“Son, your father and I were honored to have the Queen as our guest during her stay. She even said the quiet of our residence was something to be marveled at! But I digress, for that is not the point of this.
“Our Queen has declared the United States heavy cruiser USS Indianapolis (CA-35) the richest find in our century! The amount of advanced technology, material, and history within is just astounding! She even used her magic to bring it off the sandbar and into the expanded Summercrest Shipyard section we’d been building ever since the ship was found. Her official statement says that the government does not have much use for the ship itself as of yet, but she decided to reverse-engineer only two of the smaller five-inch weapons while giving the responsibility of either restoration or breaking down to Bats’ father. If this big ship is to enter service in the Atlantean Navy, it’ll need months of work along with sufficient funds. The Queen has already compensated for the shipyard, so we can use that for our purposes.
“As for the secret mission the ship was a part of, its crew was hauling two weapons of mass destruction to an island chain called Hawaii, where they would be used against the opposing country. This weapon is apparently able to begin never-ending fires in the hearts of cities by the literal power of the Sun and devastate entire countries! As frightening as that is, I assure you that no such object was found on the ship. The weapons must’ve already been delivered. I can only hope such a thing is never used again if it has already.
“Three damaged metal things were found in it. They must be flying machines of some sort judging by the wings. Since the secret mission only mentioned two, they were immediately ruled out and the most intact one is being studied by our greatest minds in Nautinia University.
“Your loving mother, Shooting Star.”

Crimson smiled. “Well, it looks like home got famous! I can’t tell you colts and mares how to spend your hard-earned cash, but I sure as hell am sending what I can home for this thing. Come on, the Summercrest Shipyards finally have as much prestige as Nautinia!” Cheers followed his voice. Then he asked, “Platinum, is that it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Give them their mail. I’ll give Treetop his.”

Platinum gave Crimson the single letter labeled with Treetop’s name. He walked into the tent and plopped it on the desk. “Sir, mail’s here.”

“Thanks, Private Dawn. I guess the guys want me to read it aloud.”

“Yes, they do, sir.”

“Well, I need a break from this anyway.” Treetop stood and walked out of the tent, followed by Crimson. “Apparently, you all want me to read my mail. As if it’s your business.” Nervous laughter followed. He read it silently, mentioning the more important parts aloud. “And finally, after reading all this nonsense from my wife, I can - wait, I’m a father?”

Cheers erupted from the small crowd. “Congrats, Treetop!” “Who’s the kid?” “Yeah, name?”

“Well, it’s a girl. Her name is Bubble Wrap, and she’s addicted to the stuff,” Treetop announced. “And I am proud to say that our beloved Colonel Silvercrest, after the fiasco known as childbirth a month ago, is itching to get back here and finish the job. She tells me in this second letter - in the same envelope for some reason - that all NCOs are promoted to Second Lieutenant and that Private Dawn is now a Warrant. Congratulations, all, and get back to work. Lunch isn’t until thirteen hundred.”

Author's Note

My break's done. Homefront comes next.

Feedback appreciated.

8. The Battle of Pacifica

The rest of day heralded news of an approaching Dominion army. It would be there by midday tomorrow, and it was huge: two hundred thousand strong, with rumors of an extra fifty thousand elites and a secret weapon.

It was seven in the morning. The sun shone brightly into the tent Crimson slept in as he groggily woke next to his Atlantean comrades Platinum Starlight and the Earth pony they all called Bats. The other two snapped to attention as Sarge pulled the flap open with his Unicorn magic.

“Wakey, wakey, rise and shine! All ya pretties are gonna getcha some dirt on those shiny uniforms! Report to the Square in TEN MINUTES!” Sarge bellowed.

“Someone’s gonna get a sore throat. He yells like he’s on the high seas,” Bats grumbled.

“Sarge used to be a sailor, Bats. If he hadn’t been in the Navy before now, he’d probably be a general.” Crimson replied as he put on his uniform and slung the single-shot rifle around his back, easily accessible with his right wing.

The three hurried to obey Sarge’s orders. More than once the friends had been at the wrong end of the sargeant’s obedience lecture, which typically included KP duty for the next week. They weren’t the best nor the most disciplined soldiers in the Atlantean Reserve Emergency Army, but they fought like hell. AREA was the only thing between the Dominion and conquering the nearby town of Pacifica. With dwindling supplies and troops, they could never hope to completely halt the Domination Army’s advance.

As the three sped into the training grounds, known as the Square, they saw that everypony in all AREA was there. They reported to Treetop, acting commander of the 2nd Coastal Regiment, and stood at attention while the wait began. After waiting thirty minutes while the last stragglers came in, Sarge came on stage. He had his ragged uniform with its impressive three medals and warrior’s prestige.

“This is bein’ relayed from the Queen herself. Apparently, we are to pull back the artillery, Logistics, and Medical today to ease possible retreats. That means no support. If the horn goes off, you do what it says, even if it says to turn tail and run. What you got now is what you’re stuck with. Alright shinies, ya got all day cut out fer ya. The 1st Midlands goes to the left flank…” and so it began. Crimson’s hopes that his regiment wouldn’t be called to do anything were crushed when Sarge yelled, “And the 2nd Coastal is to be transferred to the center. Don’t let us down, boys. Dismissed!”

The next few minutes were chaotic as everypony ran to grab their stuff before marching to the lines. Once inside the tent he shared with Platinum and Bats, Crimson sorted through his few items as the other two came in. He quickly shoved things he felt were nonessential, like his dress uniform, and packed more practical things, like ammo. But one thing was eluding him.

“Hey, has anyone seen my locket?”

“You mean the iron one with your sister and parents in it? Don’t know,” replied Platinum.

“It’s silver, dammit! And yes, I’m looking for that one.”

Bats picked it up from his trunk. “Sorry, thought it was mine. Here you go.” He gave Crimson the locket he so desired.

The red Pegasus wrapped it around his neck and let it hang from the shining chain. It was the one piece of home he always carried with him, and it was one that sparked constant reprimand from Sarge. But Crimson took the criticism without fear and never let the locket go. Besides, every soldier was obligated to remember those they protected.

A bugle horn sounded. “Well, that’s our signal. Let’s get to the Square and meet up with the others.” Platinum said.

When the entire regiment formed a column and moved out, they all began to sing. It was a horrible job, but the ponies sang their military anthem without much care to quality. They just did it with vigor, which was better than artsy, according to Sarge. Crimson joined in the merry crowd, hoping it would draw attention from his locket.

Where the old wind blows and na-ture crows
We stand in un-i-ty!
The kings of old, they all were told
Of every-thing they’ve done!

We all are grateful for those who fall
They serve to their last breath.
In spite of all, they have prevailed
So therefore we will too!

Oh, At-lan-tis, we all sing!
We sing for thee, we sing for thy
At-lan-tis, we will be
We’ll be there for our home!

And our fair princess, known as Queen,
She lives with pride and strength.
She calls upon our greatest foe
The Dominion, to seek a fight!

There’s nowhere that we’d rather be
The Army is our home!
Instead, we wish to fight as hard
So that our kids see we won’t stop
And always save the day!

Oh, At-lan-tis, we all sing!
We sing for thee, we sing for thy
At-lan-tis, we will be
We’ll be there for our home!

We fight all day, and in-to the night
Through blood and steel
On land and sea
Our home is what we all do make it
And the Army is our home!

As the ponies marched by the Atlantean flag flying proudly in the Square, they all saluted it with pride, dignity, and discipline. It was their home they were defending, and they all knew it. They fought for their homes, their families, and their friends, but most of all because they loved Queen Atlanta and would come to her aid at any given moment. But nopony knew just how hard they were going to fight. They were shinies, after all, and had yet to see combat.

Crimson ducked down low behind the earthen mound as smoke erupted from the Dominion line. His steel helmet sat crooked slightly, leaning to his right ear. It was smattered with the blood of his comrades and a grazing wound across his left foreleg. His black mane and red fur stuck to him with all the sweat in the world. Beside him, Platinum and Bats had exchanged worried glances, also ducking.

“Those guys are so disciplined!” Bats exclaimed.

“We could hold them back if we had some fucking ARTILLERY right now!” Platinum replied. Both of them were in about the same shape as their friend.

Crimson looked up, inhaling heavily against the white gunsmoke. It blocked out the sun in many patches and barely did a thing in others. “When are we going to get out of here?” he asked the horrible world that was the battlefield itself.

To his left, an Earth pony fell to the ground. He didn’t even know the stallion’s name. All Crimson knew was that he hadn’t ducked in time and was impaled by a bullet. The stallion’s body felt limp and blood oozed slowly from a small hole in his head. Crimson pulled the spare ammo from the dead pony’s belt and tossed some to his friends. No sense in letting the stuff get wasted. They caught their share and hooked it to their own belts, which were slung on like a girth. Each had a silent “thank you” on their faces; ammunition was practically out across the line.

Bats peeked over the mound and dropped down instantly. “They’re too close. ‘Bout a hundred meters or so. I say we toss some boom-spheres.”

Crimson nodded and pulled a “boom-sphere” from his belt. It was a circular device reverse-engineered from the supplies in the metal ship currently sitting in Summercrest. The things were supposed to explode after three seconds if you pulled the pin. Crimson hoped they would. Being in command of this twenty-pony section of defense, he called, “Boom-spheres! Volley on my command!”

Everypony under his immediate command took a boom-sphere from their belts.

“Now!”

Twenty ponies simultaneously threw their spheres across the gap. They landed at varying distances in and around the Dominion line and exploded after their three seconds. Crimson stole a peek and sighed with relief. The enemy appeared to have been decimated. But his cheer died when more ranks of brown uniforms marched out of the cloud of smoke.

“Well, shit,” Platinum said. “Red, we’ve all got seven rounds and one boom-sphere each, then we’re out.some of the boys are dyin’ of thirst, too. Too bad Logistics took the water bottles with them.”

“If we get outta here, I’m tellin’ Treetop to get everypony a bottle and newer, bigger ammo boxes so this mess doesn’t happen again.” Crimson replied. He turned to see the Dominion lines reach and utterly annihilate the group next to them. The right flank of the 3rd Tideless was completely gone. “Sound the call! Pull back before they use enfilade fire!”

Platinum didn’t have to sound it. The twenty in the group filed up to make a capital “L” shape. Then they were joined by the twenty to their right in making a square. Farther down, the rest of the regiment made squares of about forty and slowly pulled out from behind the mounds. Unicorns cast collective shield spells that protected them from the hailstorm of bullets.

Bats was with them when he saw somepony from the 3rd Tideless struggle along, trying to keep from being run underhoof. He thought it was a stallion before her helmet came off and her slightly slimmer face was revealed. It was a Major, judging by her insignia. “Crimson! We need to go back!”

“What?”

“We gotta go to the Tideless! There’s a Major in there!”

“In times of crisis, the commanding officer of soldier is to preserve the lives of his or her own before going back! I cannot risk our lives!” the Pegasus called.

“Well, then, I’m goin’ alone!” Bats dove through the magic shield and behind a tree. He then fired his last shot before to more cover, closer to the Major. The half-thestral Earth pony kept going from cover to cover until he was next to the mare.

“Bats!” Crimson yelled. Against his own quote of the rulebook, he turned around and edged the square closer to the enemy. The shield was taking a heavy pounding.

“You shouldn’t have come,” the mare weakly told Bats.

“I don’t care. Come on!” Bats picked her up and carried her to a fairly thick tree. After a volley slammed into the tree, he did it again and again, getting closer to his friends with each cover-hop. Then he went a final time, making a break for the square with the mare on his back. A Dominion soldier hadn’t fired in the volley, waiting for the Atlantean to come out to where he was vulnerable. He fired, but the inaccurate weapon hit Bats’ leg instead of his head.

Bats did a faceplant as his foreleg gave out. The Major was catapulted over him and through the shield, just a meter away. Bats tried to get up and was met by a storm of bullets. He was struck again and again until he simply fell, blood exiting his already-dead body from two dozen holes.

Crimson stood in place for a full minute, transfixed by the horror of losing his childhood friend. It took Platinum’s cry that they were almost surrounded to arouse him. He whirled to see a fresh regiment of Dominion troops already moving to the second line, a hundred meters ahead.

“Full retreat! Get to the line!”

The forty ponies went into full gallop as they hurried to reach their allies before the enemy did. They were subject to fire from all directions the entire time. When they did arrive, they found an empty mound and pressed on, not pausing until the train station was in sight, its four steam engines running hot. Then Treetop’s group met them.

“Warrant Dawn! Damn, is it good to see you! We lost most of the officers, so whoever’s leading our boys here gets promoted. Get your boys to the train on the left. We regroup the regiment on board!” the Lieutenant called.

“Yes, sir!” Crimson hurried to the train, and when he boarded, he saw two other forty-pony groups from the 2nd Coastal come over the ridge, carrying the regimental flags as fast as possible. They were directed in the same manner as he was and met up on the train’s flatcars. Treetop’s forty arrived and the engine began turning the wheels.

As they got up to speed, zipping through the countryside on the second of the last trains to make it out, Treetop slammed his helmet on the wooden flatcar bed. “The Harmony-damned motherfuckers in the 6th Firestorm left us! They walked away from the second line and fucking left us!” Platinum caught the helmet with his weakening magic before it rolled off the train.

The Major Bats had died rescuing walked up to the Lieutenant with Crimson. “Sir.”

“Yes?” The irritated tone was heavy.

“Major Zucchini Muffin, Equestrian Royal Guard. I wanted to say that your ponies are the bravest - and most reckless - I have ever seen.”

Treetop raise an eyebrow. “Why the hell are you even here?”

“I’m a transfer from Princess Celestia’s school. Was transferred from your Guard school straight to the line when an opening came in the 3rd Tideless. I requested it for the experience.”

“Is this true, Warrant?” the pony asked Crimson.

“Yes, sir. Everything checks out. I was informed that our left was lead by a transfer with her name, rank, etcetera. She’s genuine.”

“Good. Well, Ms. Zucchini Muffin, you’ve had your experience.” Treetop’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute - why are you not with your regiment?”

“Sir, the Third Tideless is gone. One of your ponies came for me and carried me to Warrant Dawn’s square formation. He - he died in the attempt.” she replied. Her head dropped.

“Who, Warrant?”

“Bats, sir. We lost him.”

Treetop relaxed slightly. The tension had gone away and was replaced with loss. One of the goofballs - not to mention the only half-thestral they had - was gone. “Warrant, get me a full report.”

“Yes, sir.”

Crimson gulped. “Treetop, I have the list.”

“Let’s see it.”

“Sir, we lost Bats, as you know. Also Spaniard, Challenger, Knifeblade, Swordedge, Backstabber, Golden Sands, Silver Lining, Eagleface, and Martian.” Tears welled up in Crimson’s eyes. “Those are the officers and significant - term used lightly - soldiers and NCOs. Total loss is more like seventy.”

Treetop sat down. His old friends were gone: the half-griffon Eagleface, Knifeblade, and Swordedge. Backstabber, Spaniard, and Challenger went way back. Golden Sands had just retired. Silver Lining and Martian were the regiment drill instructors. “I’ll tell Silvercrest when we meet up with the rest of AREA. dismissed.” He stared on, reflecting on the battle.

Author's Note

Feedback appreciated (I should put that at the top of the description :moustache: ).

9. Reunion/Aftermath

Colonel Moonshine Silvercrest stood at the Starsong Encampment train station awaiting the arrival of those who’d been in the lines during the retreat from Pacifica. She’d rushed her maternity leave, letting her husband care for her filly, so that she could get back to her command. When she learned that they’d been position dead center for the last part of the battle, her initial thought was that the entire 2nd Coastal was obliterated. Now a train carrying 160 familiar ponies on its flatcars pulled into the station.

Treetop hadn’t asked Zucchini Muffin if Princess Celestia’s school accepted mares yet, so he popped it while they rode the last mile.

“Yes, sir. Both mares and stallions are permitted to go; it’s just that I’m the first mare to actually apply,” she replied.

He bobbed his head. That was something Celestia would do, allowing both sexes to join. Not that it mattered much if only one actually tried.

Crimson saluted the Lieutenant. “Sir, we arrive at HQ in five minutes. Engineer’s ETA.”

The salute was returned.“Good. Round everypony up and tell them to be ready. I received word via comm spell that a certain officer will meet us at the station. Dress uniforms if you have them.”

One hundred sixty ponies in ragged uniforms, mixed between dress uniform and whatever they had left, lined up along the left side of the train, watching the platform come into greater and greater detail. Out of all those who came from the sprawling camp to meet them stood the Sarge, feeling a tad bit guilty even though he only relayed orders, and Silvercrest. A team from Medical showed up as well in case.

The regiment’s remains cheered as the train slowed to a complete stop just in front of Silvercrest. Treetop waved his chipped steel helmet and Silvercrest returned the favor. The remaining officers and NCOs stood next to him, including “Major Muffin,” who sheepishly smiled amidst the cheers and loud conversations. She was obviously out of place with an Equestrian emblem on her Royal Guard armor.

They all hopped off. “Silvercrest, it is so damn good to see you again. I thought we wouldn’t be comin’ back for a while out there!” Treetop exclaimed. “And ma’am, I need to introduce Major Zucchini Muffin of the Equestrian Royal Guard. She’s in the transfer program.”

“Major.”

“Colonel.” The Equestrian took a cautious step forward. “I’m sorry about your troops. If I hadn’t decided to experience the front lines, you may not have lost as many.”

“Treetop, who was it?”

“Private Nightmane, ma’am. He was killed in action bringing her to Warrant Dawn’s group shield. Also lost in other areas were Eagleface and Martian. The full list will be in my report.”

Silvercrest’s head dropped slightly. “Understood. Let’s get you guys to the mess and Medical.”

Nurse Lieutenant Rose Thorn watched the reunion with a teary eye. So many had died; most of them were new, too. They were back with their commander, though, so that was a plus. At least there weren’t any emergencies.

She was proven wrong the instant that thought crossed her mind. A second train, this time with a single passenger coach, pulled in, braking at maximum power to slow down. They were definitely in a hurry. The car’s doors swung open and several ponies carried others on makeshift stretchers and had miraculously stemmed blood loss with nothing but ragged uniforms and red-hot rods from the engine. Some on stretchers had no apparent cause for concern except for the fact that they were just barely breathing.

She and a few other medics got over the initial shock and jumped to work. The injured ponies were carried to Medical as quickly as safely possible. As Rose treated her first patient, a Unicorn stallion with a horribly burned hind leg, she asked, “What the hell happened?”

“The Dominion got a bad-as-mother-of-all-fuck weapon, that’s what happened! They threw these cans at us, then a second later, they popped and filled the entire right flank with some kind of liquid. It was weird and colorless; I almost didn’t see it. The shit hit my leg and didn’t feel bad at all. Then we had to run and left on the last train out. The other two were gone.

“Anyway, I didn’t feel a thing until a few hours later. By Harmony! The pain was - is crazy! Ahh! I think some of it popped into my mouth! It’s driving me insane! When I rinsed my leg, I thought I was fine. But it didn’t do shit! The damn liquid must’ve got into my skin or something!”

Rose listened as he told her the entire story. It was enough to give a guess at a diagnosis. “I’ve heard of this weird fluid called hydrofluoric acid during my training. It’s odd that it was even in there, but it is potentially deadly stuff. Would you recognize it if I got some?”

“Just do something about this! My leg feels about to shatter!”

Rose grabbed a container full of the acid, normally used to get rid of bone pieces, with her magic. She held it near him and he revolted. “I’ll assume this is it.” Her next action was to get a nurse to fetch a gel known to relieve the acid’s effects. When it arrived, she generously applied it how she was taught. “Now we wait.” Rose moved on to the next patient, with a similar story, and did the same.

Queen Atlanta, ruler of Atlantis (named before her time), sat in a simple chair in her War Room, next to the central throne chamber. Her ocean-blue fur bristled when her main general arrived. The flowing, deep green mane and tail of the Queen did not falter, however. Neither did her steely, turquoise eyes, which glared right through him and the other generals. She waited for the general to sit down before speaking. “Why is it that we have just lost a vital industrial city to the Domination Army less than six months into this war?”

“My lady, we had no choice but to retreat. The enemy is too strong,” the main general answered, his voice wavering a bit. “I want to keep the army intact.”

“We could have held. You all ran the math. I ran the math! We had the ability to hold Pacifica, so why did you order a retreat, General?”

He gulped. “The army needs to remain intact so that we can defend the capital.”

“Defending here at Nautinia, when our ponies believe we’ve turned our backs on them, when we have no industrial and technological aid, when our supplies are dwindling with no hope of replenishment, is a good strategy? Bullshit!” Atlanta’s use of coarse language accentuated her irritation well. “They do not go past the Aquarius River. Is that clear?”

Mumbles came to her in reply.

“IS THAT CLEAR?”

This time, a chorus of “Yes’s” and head-nods came.

“I don’t care if we lose a hundred thousand ponies. They do not cross the Aquarius River. If they do, I will hold whoever is responsible for the mess accountable. That means you, General.”

“But my Queen, the river is only seventeen miles from Pacifica!”

“Then I suggest you work out a strategy to keep them there.” Atlanta stood up and walked out of the War Room fuming.

Author's Note

Woo, my favorite OC Pegasus mare is back! Not much when you consider that she might be one of one or two. Still, though... she's cool.

Yes, I looked up hydrofluoric acid. Highly corrosive stuff. Also highly reactive to calcium. Burns can be missed easily, etc.

No, Aquarius River does not happen soon. We are currently about 6 years before. As for the Final Stand, we are looking at 10-11 years. This is a 12-year-long war.

Feedback appreciated.

10. Released From Drydock

Captain Middle Road, commanding officer of the Atlantean sailing frigate ANS Millennium, bounded up the steps and emerged up on deck. The Unicorn’s tan coat was enhanced by the wood dust being blown into the air by the many carpenters working to finish the ship and her dark brown eyes. Her mane and tail, normally dyed green, were also covered in wood dust. She looked around and saw her chief bosun's mate and acting exec, Chief Petty Officer Tie Dye, conversing with a shipyard inspector about the delayed departure. So many materials had been going to AREA that the yards had become overlooked, keeping Millennium in drydock for a month later than scheduled.

“Captain Road is busy. If you’d like to leave a message for me to send to her, I can do that,” Tie Dye was saying.

“This is for your Captain’s eyes only. She may relay whatever information she feels necessary to you, but this must get to her first.”

Tie Dye turned her head and saw Middle Road watching. She motioned for the Captain to come over. Middle Road, knowing it must be important, walked to the two.

“Captain, he has a message that apparently can only be seen by you.”

“Let’s hear it.”

The stallion cleared his throat. “Captain Road, you are to make preparations for getting underway. In three hours, you leave drydock and your ship would normally be free to go to Outfitting.”

“That’s it?”

“No. Outfitting has already come, I see, so my next message is your mission: scout the coast outside Summercrest. It is of the highest naval priority that the Domination Navy does not get within visual range of the shipyards there. Queen’s orders.”

“You know as well as I that a single Artemis-class frigate cannot stop them if they come. How will I call for reinforcements?”

“We already have three Fireheart-class corvettes there, all equipped with talking boxes. These boxes will allow you to communicate with your fleet. As you know, we had to take out some crew bunk area aboard your vessel to accommodate for one. They are your support; use them wisely.”

Road returned the salute that followed the end of the message. “Dismissed.” As the messenger walked off the ship, Road nodded to the Chief. “Dye, get the NCOs and officers. We have a job to do.”

“Why do we get the orders to patrol? We’re ready for action!” one of Tie Dye’s Petty Officers.

“Because Atlanta said so. These orders came directly from the Queen herself. Do you want to disregard that? I didn’t think so,” Tie Dye replied. The Earth pony’s cordgrass-textured fur bristled like a porcupine. Her mane and tail were rainbows, as was her coat, giving her the name. “Captain?”

“The Chief’s right, fellas. We can’t say no. Besides, with the rest of the Navy in the open ocean, far from any communication from us whatsoever, we’re all that stands between the Dominion’s ships and home. For all we know, King Jagged Edge wants to take Griffonstone and Equestria, too. That’s three nations that are depending on our success in this. I’ve been given authorization to use our Talking Box-”

“The weird books say it’s ‘ray-dee-oh.’”

“Whatever. We only have four total, one for each ship in our little fleet. The folks at R&D tell me that they can’t make any more until we ramp up the tech since all they did was read the books and fix the ones we found. We have the best tech in the world on our ship. Let’s make the most of it. Dismissed!”

The Chief stayed behind while everypony else filed out of the wardroom. When the two were alone, she stood beside the senior officer. “Ma’am, we cast off in five.”

“Understood. Let’s get topside.”

The two walked through the officer’s area and up the stairs, emerging into the blinding daylight. The sun blasted its rays of heat down on them, seemingly cooking them alive. They shrugged it away; late summer/early fall was the hottest time around here. The war started just a few months ago but it felt like an eternity.

As Road stepped to the wheel, motioning for the pony there to be ready, Tie Dye went to work, bellowing in a Sarge-like voice to get the crew moving. They scrambled to the mooring lines connecting the ship to the drydock pier, hauling the gangplank in and readying sails. A Pegasus flew to the crow’s nest and called down. Two Unicorns were in position to unfurl the square-rigged sails on each of the three masts as soon as the ship was in favorable winds and not in the harbor. Crews of Earth ponies and Unicorns together manned the forty guns a side.

The drydock tilted towards the sea with a suddenness that always got one’s heart racing. It was the ship’s watertight test. Nine out of ten vessels passed during normal times with a ship every three days. Millennium bounced nicely as the water lapped her stern gently.

Road signaled. The stallion controlling the drydock mechanisms replied. Then he blew a horn and two teams of ten Unicorns each pulled the great log booms that held Millennium in place as a team of twenty kept the frigate from moving. When the booms were completely moved, the stallion threw a mock salute to the Captain. Then the ship was released from the Unicorns’ telekinetic grip and slid down the drydock.

A loud roar quickly died down as Millennium’s stern stopped moving into the harbor and her bow slid gracefully into the waves. The helmspony spun the wheel, rotating the frigate around to face the harbor entrance. Then the sails unfurled and immediately caught the wind, propelling the ship to sea. As the bow sliced through the water, Captain Middle Road smiled. She was on her way to her first command.

Author's Note

OK, so in Homefront, Atlanta said she wanted radio. She also knew what it did. This is why: her Research and Development guys repaired the ones they got off USS Indianapolis. Hopefully that explains any issues with her knowing what radio is without actually ever seen to have used it (even if you guys never explicitly said it!). Since she never achieves the technological level required to make radios in the 16-20 years between now and then, she wanted Jackson to get her some.

Don't worry, we'll see the army again. I just need new character intro and shit like that. Also, Navy.

Feedback appreciated.

11. The Battle of Cape Lune

Middle Road sat at the Helm two days later. Her Fireheart-class corvettes (Sundering Sea, Neptune, and Odyssey) had called in ready for action just ten minutes ago, patrolling the waters south and east of Summercrest. No Dominion vessels had been found in the small net, which would be deepened by the Captain’s arrival.

Summercrest was visible to the north now, its shipyards busy with resurrecting USS Indianapolis. A light column of wispy smoke spiraled from the steel smokestack, lazily curling with the wind. After several months, they finally got the thing fueled with the right kind of stuff, which was a relief. The heavy cruiser’s guns were ready for action in case they were needed. Even with only the limited ammunition they had aboard, those things looked scary. As many of the nine tubes that were eight inches long and eight 5-inch weapons were trained to sea.

“Chief, what is it now?” she asked as Tie Dye came up to her.

“Captain, Neptune reports hostile ships inbound. They’ve just rounded the Cape Lune.”

Deep breath. “Signal the other ships: battle stations.” Road raised her voice. “All crew to battle stations! This is not a drill!”

The hubbub of Atlanteans morphed into chaos. The gun crews raced to their weapons and opened the gunports, loading the cannons as well. Buckets of water were hoisted up the masts in case of fire. The lookout in the crow’s nest was relieved and he flew down to the wardroom, as his secondary job aboard was being a medic. Powder and cannonballs were carried up by Unicorn magic so the guns could be reloaded faster.

Middle Road held the wheel in her hooves. the grim lines on her face reflected her cutie mark: a tic-tac-toe board. She was finally being tested in combat.

“Captain, message from Neptune: shitload of baddies. At least fifty ships of the line, thirty frigates, sixty brigs and sloops, forty corvettes, and twenty landing craft.”

“By Harmony,” Middle Road whispered. “Four of us against two hundred of them. Odds of fifty to one. Tell Summercrest to send what they got. Fishing boats with rifleponies or cannon, armed dinghies, I don’t care. We’ll need to whittle them down as much as we can. And ask them if the project can handle a day or two at sea.”

A few minutes later, Tie Dye came back. “They’re doing it. Harbormaster Nightmane says a couple days can’t hurt as long as nothing too major knocks holes in the side. They’ve just finished sealing the holes already there, you see, and the wall-things* in there are pretty banged up. Fuel will be a concern; I don’t have to tell you that we ain’t towing her back.”

The Captain nodded. “To your post, Chief. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Flood the drydock! Move it, move it!” the harbormaster cried. “Fire up all boilers! Fly the battle flag! Stow everything and get on! This ship’s headed to a fight!”

“Mr. Nightmane, a few words before you go, please?”a newspaper reporter asked over the noise.

“Shoot.”

“What’s it like to be in command of the most powerful ship in the world?”

“Overwhelming. I really hope this thing stays together. We’ve spent too much to let her die, but she’ll serve us well.”

“Thank you. What was your reaction when you discovered the nature of the secret mission this vessel participated in?”

“I was surprised that a magically deficient species such as the builder of this ship would even consider such weapons of mass destruction. My wish is that the need never arises.”

“Thank you. That’s all.” Harbormaster Nightmane gestured for the reporter to leave, but he didn’t move. “I’ve been assigned to report the battle as it unfolds. I’d like to stay aboard, if you please.”

“I have no concerns. Just stay out of the way.”

The two headed to the “Bridge.” Why is it even called that? “All engines aft.” Nightmane held a book with the terms he needed. His crew had already memorized them. The drydock, now flooded, churned when Indianapolis’s twin screws bit. The heavy cruiser backed out of the shipyard and into the harbor slowly. “Port engine ahead. Rudder to starboard, ten degrees.” The ship turned to face the harbor’s mouth. The frigate Millennium, Captain Road’s flagship, was barely visible if you squinted hard enough. “Starboard engine ahead. Rudder to port, ten degrees.” Indianapolis completed her three-point turn and Nightmane ordered the rudder to return to amidships. “All engines ahead standard.” He felt the bow nose up as the screws bit deeper than before. The cruiser surged ahead, her bow slicing through the water. She reached the harbor mouth in less time than it took for most of the deployed fishing boats to go halfway.

“Signal Millennium: ready for action. No holes so far.”

“Acknowledge.” Road looked to land, where the massive capital ship steamed effortlessly through the sea as if it wasn’t there. It wasn’t dependent on the wind, unlike everything else in the haphazard fleet. Turning to look ahead again, she was startled by the lookout’s cry:

“White smoke bearing oh-nine-oh! Directly ahead!”

Moments later, a radiopony hurried up the steps from the radio shack. “Captain, Neptune and Odyssey have engaged the enemy. Sundering Sea is coming as quick as those little sails will let her.”

Out of nowhere,one of Indianapolis’s forward 8-inch guns bore to the east and fired. The concussion was astounding. Road followed the projectile with her binoculars as best she could and saw it slam into a Dominion frigate. The enemy vessel exploded spectacularly, showering everything around it with wood and soot-black smoke.

“Holy shit.”

A second gun fired, sending a huge column of water next to the nearest Dominion brig. The underwater blast caved in more than a few hull planks, causing the ship to founder rather quickly and it began to sink. Everypony watched in wonder.

Over the next few hours, the steel ship’s long range kept the Dominion fleet from committing too much. But Neptune was in the line of fire, never hit by the Atlanteans, but pounded by the enemy. Her hull was pierced by a hundred holes from fifty-pound cannon roundshot, leaking and sinking. But her crew still fought valiantly as their naval corvette’s deck slipped beneath the waves - and stuck. The tiny ship’s captain had chosen the Cape Lune Sandbar to make his stand for this very reason.

Eventually, a Dominion ship rammed Neptune, sending splinters across the water. The heavier ship of the line absolutely crushed the corvette and her crew, but got stuck on top of her as a result. She was an easy target for Indianapolis’s guns, exploding in a mushroom of debris.

But the Domination Navy’s fleet edged closer to the meager defense: fifty fishing boats armed with a single 12-pound cannon, Sundering Sea, Millennium, Indianapolis, and the half-sunk Odyssey.

“Signal Odyssey and Sundering Sea: Distract the big guns from the fishers. That’ll let ‘em get in close and shoot some holes. The cruiser stays at a distance and picks off whoever gets past us.” Captain road ordered. “Helm, take us in. Gun crews, ranged action, both sides!”

Millennium’s sails filled with wind. Her open gunports whistled as the air blew through and around them. Gun crews rolled the cannons out so that they looked like black tubes in the side of an elegant vessel.

Not elegant for long, Road thought. Then she stepped into hell.

The new frigate’s white sails were torn, flapping uselessly in the wind. An obscuring cloud of smoke was all that showed the ship’s location as her entire starboard side fired a second salvo. Then her port showed its full broadside to the Dominion ship of the line coming in to pound her. Tiny balls had slammed into the hull and ripped the rigging and sails. The masts had taken a beating in less than five minutes.

“Punch some hole in those bastards!” Road cried. She still stood at the Helm, having taken it over herself. She spun to port and Millennium miraculously turned hard. The ship leaned to starboard and went right through its own cloud of gunsmoke. Then a gloriously loud CRACK was heard from the bowsprit as Millennium collided with a Dominion brig’s stern. The bowsprit snapped and fell overboard, bringing the entire forward rigging with it into the sea. On the rammed ship, the Captain’s cabin became a wrecked roomful of splintering wood and tumbling junk while Millennium went on. Glass shattered and stuff went everywhere.

“Get that cut! We’re a sitting duck!” Tie Dye yelled. The Chief then personally went to help chop the ropes keeping the rigging on the ship. Others hurried to help. Meanwhile, the gun crews continued to fire as their cannons were reloaded, keeping a thick haze around the frigate.

Another Dominion brig came in alongside through all the smoke and cannon fire. Its crew armed itself with the intent of boarding Captain Road’s ship. But one of the Atlanteans high up saw it coming and called down his report.

“Prepare to repel boarders!” Road called. She pulled out a single-shot pistol and checked it for ammo. It was and she cocked it, making sure she had a sword at her side for melee combat. The Chief’s detail finished cutting the wrecked rigging from the port side. They grabbed their personal weapons and lined up at starboard.

One of the starboard gun crews had an idea. The ponies loaded their cannon with everything they could find: bits of metal, tiny balls, even some of the stuff from the galley. Then the cannon fired and screams of pain could be heard from across the water. All the little bits served as canister, shredding the enemy at the close range.

The Chief howled and leaped across the gap. If the enemy was distracted, she was taking advantage of it. More Atlanteans soon followed suit, jumping long and brandishing their swords. The surprised Dominion ship didn’t stand a chance; they’d thought Millennium would be easy to take, even with only half a crew to board her. Tie Dye scuttled the brig and returned to her ship.

Nightmane watched his ammunition count drop at an alarming rate. He’d left a couple rounds back in the yards for reverse-engineering, but it would take a long time. The 8-inch guns did remarkably well, blasting every ship they hit and nearly hit. As for the 5-inches, they were fine. They could depress lower and hit the smaller boats as Indianapolis cruised on the outskirts of the battle. But they didn’t have that awesome power their bigger cousins displayed.

He saw Millennium accidently ram the enemy and counter-board that one brig. But his logic told him that he’d have to get in there to get them out. The Dominion still had almost a hundred ships left, and the Atlanteans lost half their fishing boats and two corvettes. Sundering Sea and Millennium were the only major friendly ships out in that mess.

“All engines ahead flank. Hard to port.” he ordered.

The heavy cruiser turned to show her beautiful starboard side to the enemy. Then her main turrets rotated and fired a full salvo. Combined with the secondaries, it annihilated almost everything out there. The heavy cruiser listed to port from the sudden firings, then rocked back to amidships.

“Reload! Reload!” he yelled.

An eager Dominion ship of the line fired its own broadside. Most shot fell short, but a couple dented the steel hull and bounced off. One punched through a thinner section and water rushed into the compartment.

“Sir, we have a hull breach in the forward boiler room!”

“Get the flooding under control! They ain’t sinking this battleship!”

Damage control parties hurried to the flooding compartment. They used steam from the aft boilers to maintain pressure on the bilge pumps, which spat gallon after gallon of water back overboard. A 5-inch gun responded to the opposing ship in kind, its crew still chugging along.

“Sir, the forward boilers are lost! The room is flooded; we’ll have to haul her back into dryck to fix that hole. Also, the “firebricks” used in the construction of the boilers disintegrated when the ocean hit them.”

“Is the compartment sealed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get Captain Road out of that mess. Hard to starboard!”

Indianapolis fell to port and her bow turned to starboard. She was a lot more sluggish, now that she dragged water and lost half her speed. Then the aft boilers picked up for lost time and steam pressure returned, sending the ship into a pell-mell acceleration into the fray.

Middle Road opened her eyes to ringing ears and complete chaos. Half her crew had gone overboard in lifeboats, getting picked up by the dozen remaining fishing boats. Then the Chief was over her, yelling something she couldn’t hear. A few seconds later, the ringing died down.

“...So we gotta get off the ship!”

“No! We can save her!”

“Captain, we’ve lost her! Odyssey exploded right after that Dom ship blew a hole in our side. We have to abandon ship or die!”

“But we’re on the sandbar…”

“No, we’re not! We’ve foundered a mile south of it! Come on!” Tie Dye picked Middle Road up and tossed her down to a waiting lifeboat, then jumped in a minute later with the radio equipment. They watched the new but ancient Artemis-class frigate slip beneath the waves. In the few days they’d sailed her, nothing had lasted as long as the battle did.

The Captain looked around groggily. She saw the steel warship blasting every single ship in its path at point blank range to smithereens. “It’s… so beautiful…” She slumped down onto the lifeboat’s deck.

Author's Note

*bulkheads. They just don't know what to call them.

Feedback appreciated.

12. Recovery

Captain Middle Road opened her eyes to a brightly lit hospital room. She squinted for a few minutes while she adjusted to the light level, turning her head to see other ponies to the left. Ponies with wounds that ranged from small splinters to gaping, bloody holes in their sides. A Unicorn nurse pulled a thin blanket over the face of a lost soul. His leg had been torn off completely, with a crimson stain on the end of the stump, and he’d died of blood loss.

A nurse walked around some groaning sailors to get to the Captain. “It’s good to see you alive. We’ve lost too many to wounds that our facilities here just can’t handle, not to mention the supply shortage. I never imagined something like this would happen.”

“Where am I?”

“Governor Physics Psych’s residence. He offered to have the lower levels and guest housing be used as hospital overflow. Good thing, too, ‘cuz we’d’ve lost a lot more if he hadn’t. We even had to pull doctors from other towns to deal with all this.”

“How many?”

“Everypony on Odyssey and most of those on Neptune and Sundering Sea. Almost nopony died on the cruiser. Half of your crew went down as well. As for the armed fishing fleet, it’s practically gone. The hit-and-run tactics didn’t do so hot, but we still have a dozen still combat ready, crew ability permitting.”

“Help me up.” Middle Road struggled and made it to the floor, using the nurse as a support. She then limped on a bandaged foreleg and was guided to the house’s dining room, currently used as a headquarters.

“Captain! Glad to see you didn’t leave us,” Tie Dye said.

“Alright. As you were, mares and gentlecolts,” she replied before any of the others got up. “What do we have besides the cruiser and a dozen dinghies?”

The Chief stayed standing. “Not much, Captain. There’s three ships in drydock about halfway done. I gave the go-ahead to finish them. Besides them, the fishers, Sundering Sea, and Old Indy, as the sailors are callin’ her, we got nothin’.”

“Well, shit.” Middle Road jerked her head down and immediately regretted it. “I think I have a concussion. Ohhh…” She rubbed her forehead with an undamaged hoof.

The head of the household, Physics Psych, walked in from the nearby stairwell. “Thank Harmony we didn’t lose you, Captain Road! That would’ve been extremely unfortunate. After all, I believe you are the highest-ranking officer here.”

“I just wanted to sail the ship…”

The Chief walked to the stallion and whispered, “She’s still got a bit a head issue. Concussion.”

“Oh. I received news from the army while I was out. They’re not doing so hot, leaving Pacifica behind. The casualty count isn’t in yet, but I hear the Second Coastal was hit hard. I hope they’re safe.”

“The Second came from here, didn’t it?”

“Our recruits were sent to reinforce that regiment, so yes. Even my youngest son. And the Dominion threw their Thirty-Sixth Elite Infantry at them, so they’re gonna want a rematch.”

Middle Road stared at the Summercrest District map spread out on the table before her. A couple “X”s marked the locations of the three lost ships Millennium, Neptune, and Odyssey. Cape Lune stood out, jutting away from the coast and curling south to form the sandbar where Neptune now lay sunk. Crossed swords displayed where the main battle had taken place, and little model boats stood where the Dominion fleet’s remnants were supposedly waiting for reinforcements.

“What do we call the ships in drydock?” she asked.

Physics Psych looked into space. Then he remembered. “The first one out will be Cape Lune. The second is Dragonheart, with the third and final one being christened Ember. Each is a Fireheart corvette.”

“What if we reconfigured Ember into an airship with cannons? She could still land in water, but fly as well. It may give us an advantage.”

“An airship? A ship the size of Ember requires quite a large amount of hovergas, which we have no way of obtaining easily.”

“The stuff comes out of volcanoes. This map shows plenty of them in a chain here.” The Captain gestured to a cluster of volcanic islands southeast of the continent.

“That’s Corsair territory. Nopony goes there unless they want to be pirated. The Corsairs of Korea have made that quite clear.”

“Fine. But these here aren’t, right?”

“That’s the Dragon’s Lair. I don’t know of anypony who’s come out of there alive.”

“Is there any volcano we can access without dying?”

“Not really.”

“Damn. I want to try anyway. We can get some hovergas from shipments coming out of Equestria, right?”

“We should, Captain. Each district has a certain amount prescribed to them from every shipment, but a full quarter goes to the government for military purposes and such. We only have three hundred cubic meters total stored away. I might be able to borrow some from neighboring districts, but our supplies aren’t much, especially after the battle.”

Captain Middle Road sighed. “We’ll have to do the best with what we can.”

Crimson Dawn fired his single-shot rifle and reloaded quickly. He and the other survivors of the Battle of Pacifica practiced almost continuously on their fire rate and accuracy. Out of the ten regiments of varying strength that had defended, three had been destroyed, with the rest totalling up to only four full regiments’ worth.

Platinum Starlight’s silvery coat had turned grayish and dull from all the smoke. Northern and Southern Lights each lost the luster their manes once had. Crimson’s jet-black mane and dark red coat shone with all the sweat coming from his body in the afternoon sun. Even Colonel Silvercrest had powder bits in her sweaty fur. Treetop stared through his binoculars through the dense white gunsmoke and peered at the pony-shaped targets.

“We still got more to go, Colonel!”

“Keep at it, then, Lieutenant.” Silvercrest replied.

Silvercrest had merged the Second Coastal with the eighth-strength First Midlands and quarter-strength Fourth Tideless to increase numbers and get the poor ponies a commander. After that turned out well, Sarge told her that reinforcements from Nautinia were in and she’d get first dibs. She was pretty happy about that. It took a twelfth of the new recruits to return the Second Coastal to full strength.

Now she fired single-shot rifles alongside her troops in the afternoon, training new NCOs and Crimson during the morning hours. One of the guys she picked up for NCO even had some medical experience, so he also started up a regimental medic squad.

Sarge walked to her after the training session. “Colonel, I received a word about the troops your regiment fought at Pacifica. They were the 36th Elite Infantry, and they’re pissed about how your boys and girls held ‘em off like that. They’ll be looking for a rematch.”

“So will I, Sarge.”

“Thought as much. Oh, and it looks as if Warrant Dawn found his meaning in life. I wonder if he even noticed.”

“It’s been there since Pacifica. And no, he hasn’t, but neither has anypony else. The Red Dawn is a nice-looking cutie mark, but it means his best position is in the army.”

“Yeah. Oh, before I forget!” Sarge took a scroll out of his saddlebag and gave it to Silvercrest. “From the Queen herself.”

The Colonel began reading:

“Colonel Moonshine Silvercrest:
I wish to congratulate your regiment for defending Pacifica the way it did. The Second Coastal Regiment is one of the bravest units we have in the field. I cannot express enough the gratitude I have for the safe extraction of Major Zucchini Muffin of the Equestrian Royal Guard. It would have been extremely difficult to explain to Princess Celestia why her only female guard was killed in action.

To thank your troops for this action, I have ordered that the first successful next-generation rifles be sent to you. They are called ‘repeaters,’ and they can hold up to ten rounds, complete with powder already installed (reverse-engineered from the Summercrest Project). The weapons should arrive in three months for your training.

-Queen Atlanta Aurora Phoenix”

As she read the note, Crimson and his friends finally noticed the cutie mark on the Pegasus’ flank. They went right to a small party down in the mess tent, drinking and cheering for each other. Silvercrest saw the festivities and joined in. There’s no time like the present. Might as well.

Author's Note

Alright, back to the army!

Sorry about the delay, I got school stuff and other things going on right now.

Feedback appreciated.

13. New Toys/ Night March

Crimson opened his eyes to the BAM! BAM! BAM! of gunfire. He rushed out of his tent to see Silvercrest walking around her regiment, firing rounds from a shiny rifle she held in her wing.

“Wake up, boys and girls! The new toys came earlier than expected!” the Colonel shouted. “Repeating weapons are here!”

An instant rush of excited ponies beat him to the armory by a long shot. But Treetop came back with one for him. It was beat up, probably having been under the rest, with scratched paint and a chipped stock. “Sorry I couldn’t get better for you,” he said. “I tried, but the others got there first.”

“No, that’s fine. This is a beautiful weapon.” Crimson cradled it with his left wing. “Heavy.” The two laughed and Crimson took a smoldering stick from a nearby cook-fire. He proceeded to inscribe his name and regiment into the side of the stock. “It’s mine now. You want to?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Platinum wrote his name on his weapon as well, along with the twins and a few others. They all smiled and were having a good time until it came to training to use the guns. That in itself wasn’t that hard; it was almost like wielding a single-shot musket. The things were just heavier and way more accurate. Everypony was hitting the targets - the centers - many more times than normal.

“I don’t know about you, but I want that rematch against their 36th Elites. We’d kick their flanks so hard now!” Northern Lights commented at dinner. Southern Lights agreed.

“Now, now, cool it.” Crimson replied. “We can't go against elites! They’re called that for a reason.”

“I hear Artillery got some new toys, too.” Platinum said.

“Silvercrest says they did. Some kind of accurate long-range cannon. Medical received more supplies and a thing they call ‘antiseptic.’ It’s supposed to keep your wounds from getting infected or something like that.” Southern Lights talked into his food.

“When are we moving out?” Northern wondered.

“I think it’s a night march. So get some stay-awake stuff. I forget what it’s called,” his twin mumbled.

“Would you look at that night sky?” Platinum asked. Crimson looked at him incredulously, and the Unicorn shrugged. “I mean, your mom’s named for one of them phenomena.”

“A shooting star is nothing more than a streak of light across the sky.” Crimson stated blatantly. But he turned his gaze skyward. Sure enough, the many stars of the night twinkled softly at them from the heavens. “Wait a second…” He pointed with his hoof.

Platinum stared. “I don’t see it, but this night march is long. Damn!” The Unicorn kept glancing up, though. Then he whispered near panic: “What the hell is that thing?”

“Woah,” Northern said. “Platinum, zoom in on it.”

Platinum cast the spell. He stared for a good long minute before releasing the spell. “It looked like a vessel of some kind. A few windows, all metal, a tube with a cone on top, and a spider-looking thing sticking out of the cone. I don’t know…”

“Aliens? I knew they were real!” Southern Lights pumped his hoof.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with it, so let’s keep marching. Dawn’s not for another couple hours.” Crimson said.

Sarge called for a halt right as the sun’s rays curved over the horizon. “Get some rest, boys. We strike for Emberforge in five hours.”

“Did he just say Emberforge?”

“Dude, look. I can see it. Less than fifty miles.”

Silvercrest rolled her eyes and signaled to her troops. They all plopped down, still in column, and fell asleep instantly. She smiled and walked to talk to Sarge.

“Are you sure this came from Command? All we received was a message that said Emberforge was under siege. I know it’s a highly defensible position, but we literally just left our northernmost camp and struck southwest in the hopes that we relieve the base.”

“It had General Continuum’s signature at the bottom. The envelope was sealed. I can assure you, this letter was genuine.”

“May I see it?”

“Here.” Sarge gave her the paper from his saddlebag. She peered closely at the signature long and hard. “I’ve received orders from General Continuum before. This is his hoofwriting, but I can’t help but ask why there’s no smoke around the volcano? I don't see a battle, and it's extinct.”

Sarge turned from Silvercrest to watch the sun come over the horizon. As it did, a large force, thousands upon thousands of troops, appeared as silhouettes against the bright orange circle. Enormous flags, visible from even this distance, fluttered above them. He trained his eyes along the line, but it did not end, going all the way around him to return to the spot he started from.

Silvercrest read his mind and they both spoke at the same time.

“It’s a trap!”

Author's Note

Here comes the Battle of Emberforge Valley. Might take a bit longer to write. Sorry this is shorter, but school... and youtube... and KSP... and Space Engineers... high school English class sucks.

Anyway, feedback appreciated.

15. The Battle of Emberforge Valley Part 2

“Volley fire on my command!” Silvercrest called to her regiment. “Ready… Wait for it… NOW!”

Several hundred ponies fired their repeaters into the advancing Dominion line. “Again!” Without reloading, they fired a second swarm of bullets. “Again!” A third volley sent mangled ponies hurtling backwards; the enemy was getting close. “Fire at will!” The Second Coastal began to pick their targets and shoot when they’d hit. Silvercrest was in the center of the Atlantean line, being an example of what she wanted done. She fired several shots from her new toy - a pistol modeled from Indianapolis’ reverse-engineered equipment - until it ran out of bullets. Then she reloaded and restarted the cycle.

Dominion ponies were falling in heaps, it looked like. Bodies could be seen strewn across the field between the heights and Emberforge Valley Forest. Blood slowly oozed from thousands of wounds and dripped onto the reddening ground, congealing as the day wore on. The sky was filled with a white haze that acted like a hanging fog, blocking the sun and choking both sides. Artillery sent cannonballs overhead that tore apart everything and everypony they came into contact with. Crimson’s line partner Snapdragon simply exploded when one such ball ripped right through his steel armor and out the other side. His blood splattered Crimson and a few others, but when they looked again, they saw only two chunks of meat and bone lay where his rear legs had been; everything else was gone.

An Atlantean gun crew ran out of ready ammunition and one of its members picked up a ball that had landed nearby. He rammed it in after a powder charge and the gunner lit it. The gun went off, sending the ball back the way it came and into a Dominion ammo carriage. The thing exploded and flew sky-high, landing on a burning, screaming pony who’d been tossed by the blast. The Dominion fired back, churning the ground with concussions and hot metal spheres of death.

Northern Lights tossed a “boom-sphere” into an approaching line of infantry and ducked behind a hastily-made log wall he and his brother had thrown together outside camp. The grenade went off, but way closer than he liked. A second toss and it bounced right back over the wall - next to him.

“OH, SHIT!” he cried and dove away, rolling as he hit the ground. Southern Lights mirrored his brother, just in the opposite direction.

“North, they’ve got a shield! Our shit it useless!”

“Go tell the Colonel!” Northern yelled back. Then he picked up a single-shot musket from a nearby fallen Atlantean. He threw his repeater to his twin, yelling, “Take this! I’ll hold ‘em off!”

Southern Lights caught the rifle, but faltered in his move to get to Silvercrest. “North, You can’t just do this!”

“I’m older, boy!” he called. His white horn lit up and Southern was rolled away, towards the rest of the regiment. “Go!” Tears were building in Northern Lights’ eyes. “Let Mom know I ate her sandwich three years ago! And tell Amber Swirl I love her!” He chambered a round and fired, taking out a pony.

Southern Lights turned around and ran. When he looked back, he saw his brother crouched behind a wagon loaded with incendiary cannon shot, still firing the musket. The younger twin stopped on a low hill, watching. Northern had two muskets now, firing both before reloading. Then the Domination troops got close enough and Northern lit a match on the shells. A fireball erupted, sending a pressure wave through the valley and setting the entire forest ablaze. Southern Lights never saw his brother again.

Crimson was temporarily disoriented by the sudden fireball and pressure wave coming from his left. The camp started to burn fiercely, its canvas tents and smoldering firewood igniting easily in the heat of an explosion. He stole a glance and was horrified by what he could see from his position. The forest appeared to be afire. Thick, black smoke rose from the campsite area, smelling like burning magnesium (known more commonly as “boom powder”), gunpowder, and oversized campfires. He could even see the heat waves radiating from the flames; it was that hot.

Platinum shook him back to the battle. “Red, we’re outta here! The Colonel wants you to guide us away from your trap while we head deeper into the trees!”

“Right.” Crimson hurried to the front of the retreating line of Atlantean ponies and plowed his way through the tall, strong woodland. He saw the trapped meadow ahead and veered around it, heading for where he knew was west. Silvercrest was on his tail, running at full gallop as fast as she could manage. Platinum raced behind her, followed by Southern Lights, who appeared out of nowhere, then the main troop body, and finally Woodpecker and Treetop.

“Where’re we going?” Silvercrest asked between huffs of breath.

“Around the trap.” Southern Lights said from behind her.

“South, where’s your brother?” Platinum cried. His eyes suddenly darted to look.

“We lost him. He started the fire.” Southern Lights almost broke down then, but kept running for the others’ sake.

Treetop passed the meadow they’d explicitly avoided and accidentally set off the special trap. A glass bottle fell behind him, shattered, and spilled its contents across the forest floor. The ingredients, disturbed, combined quickly to create an enormous BOOM that felled trees and knocked ponies end over end. The cloud of debris joined what had already filled the atmosphere, thickening the air and choking wildlife.

Silvercrest noticed a single small flag draped on a tree branch. “This is the Fourth Midlands’ territory. We’ll link up with them if they’re still alive and find a way out of this mess. I know Medical was with Sarge, so we can get some of that when we find Sarge and the Nineteenth Cliffside.”

Some of the Midlands was lucky enough to find them and guide the Second Coastal around their own traps. Then they found more and more on the journey west, towards Mount Emberforge. Scraps of groups remained of the once-proud regiments that constituted AREA. eventually, Silvercrest spotted Sarge atop a low hill, sending bullet after bullet into incoming Dominion line infantry with the 19th Cliffside’s tattered emblem flying high overhead.

“Sarge!” she screamed, but she was drowned by the overwhelming volume of gunfire.

He did notice the approaching regiments, however, and instructed his guys to open a hole. They responded as if they were well-trained, veteran troops, not the newbie recruits in their first battle that they were. Soon, all seventeen flags flapped defiantly in the freshening breeze that did little to actually relieve them of the smoke.

“Silvercrest! Who’s left?” Sarge asked.

“I think it’s just us. Medical with you?”

“Yeah. Pulled here with them as soon as I saw that big fireball on your end. Was that ordered?”

“No. But it bought us some time by distracting the Doms.” A large explosion ripped the air from her lungs, replacing it with the ever-present white smoke. She coughed profusely, then cleared her throat. “Looks like Warrant Dawn’s stuff went off.”

“Probably. But we have bigger problems.”

“What?”

“I thought we could go west and make for Emberforge, but signal flares told me the enemy’s everywhere. We couldn’t get to the base if we tried. We’re on our own, and we’re surrounded.”

Author's Note

I just realized that Nurse Lieutenant Rose Thorn's cutie mark looks cooler if it actually said her talent - being an army medic. So that's changed if you want to look at it.

Hopefully the gore wasn't too descriptive.

Feedback appreciated.

16. The Battle of Emberforge Valley Part 3

The stone ceiling shook violently as the thousandth pressure wave pierced its thick, seemingly indestructible skin. The young princess, no older than fourteen years of age, looked worriedly up and sighed. Something was going on at the surface she never visited, never saw, never heard. The deep booming of explosions could be picked up by her astute ears, with the crackling of smaller ones being nearly constant.

She had a pitch-black coat that was, like all Changelings, peppered with holes. Nearly mature herself, Princess Mirage stood not quite six feet tall, with her subjects a good two feet shorter like the ponies they knew lived in this land. Her mane was the oddity about her, however; instead of a classic greenish seen on most Changeling queens and princesses, it was dark mauvish, almost a deep violet shade. Her eyes were the same color as her mane and tail. Mirage or not, the Princess was the pride of Queen Duplicate.

Mirage walked into the throne room to talk to her mother. Queen Duplicate, referred to as Queen Kate by the populace or by her guards as Queen Katie, sat regally on the throne, calmly waiting for the next report from the surface to come in. The Queen looked a lot like her cousin Chrysalis, with the spherical head, green mane and tail, and cheese-holed body, but beyond that, the two her drastically different. Where Chrysalis wanted to invade, Kate tried diplomacy. Where Kate used more subtle means to gain food, Chrysalis waltzed in and forced it. But Kate lived here, under the bluffs of Emberforge Valley, in caves carved out by the fiery molten rock of Mount Emberforge, and Chrysalis lived somewhere in Equestria. Her occasional glances upward betrayed the facade, though. A small pebble landed beside her and she shrieked like the end of the world.

“Mother, I must know what is happening up there!”

Queen Kate’s face slumped. Of course the youngling’s curiosity would come up. “Mirage, the reports from the surface are sporadic. We cannot get a concise picture of whatever situation threatens to bring down the roof! I am just as in the dark as you are, my dear.” She motioned with her hoof. “Come here, my child. I will protect you even if it kills me.”

Mirage walked to enter her mother’s embrace and sat down. “Mother, is the Dominion here to take us?”

“I don’t know, Mirage. The last report from Captain Pseudonym does not say much, but I believe the Dominion will find us. It is only a matter of time. Perhaps you are right, and they know, but I prefer to look at the bright side and hope it is in fact some kind of rebellion.”

“When was it? The report, I mean.”

“It came in last week,” Kate said. Mirage started to tear up. “My dear, I know you love him, and that it actually is love and not infatuation. But you must accept that he has a job in protecting you as your personal guard and that he may die doing so. The hardest thing a Queen must learn to do is to let the subjects she holds closest to her go. Hopefully, you will not learn this the hard way just yet.”

Right at that moment, a single Changeling guard covered in black soot and smelling of smoke burst through the doors. “Queen Katie!” he cried. He dropped to an awkward kneel before continuing. “It’s a battle! The Dominion flag flies above the bluffs, but the Atlanteans stand defiant on a low hill in the valley. They’ve been exchanging artillery shells for hours, and the forest is ablaze from the assault.”

“Captain Pseudonym, why have you not informed us of the brewing exchange of lives above us?” Kate demanded.

“I was following the Domination Army to here. They found me, but I ran into the Atlanteans and followed them. They entered the valley and I had to lie low for a while, lest they find me as well. Then, this morning, I awoke in my treetop perch to the sound of explosions! It took the remainder of the day from then to now to get inside the hive without detection,” he immediately answered.

Queen Kate stood. Her mane and tail flowed out in the cave “wind,” creating a dramatic effect on her size as she extended her wings. “Captain, return to your position as my daughter’s personal guard. If this hive is breached in any way, shape, or form, you get her out using the escape tunnel. The Guard has been on edge since this morning, so we are prepared, but the roof may still cave in and open a path. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Pseudonym took his place beside Princess Mirage, who had edged to the corner of the throne room. There the two waited while Queen Duplicate donned her morphleather armor and strode to her hive’s command chamber.

The Dominion infantry had stopped coming and now sat back, laying siege to the heavily-depleted Atlantean army. Artillery still fired, belching its white smoke and spewing shells between the lines. Crimson held his repeater close to his chest, breathing hard from the last harrowing hours.

Platinum and Southern Lights chatted softly about South’s lost brother. Their heads hung low, not just for the sorrow, but because they liked those heads without holes in them.

Crimson pulled a wadded letter from his sister Crystal Shard and read it. He hadn’t gotten the chance just yet. It was a song, and he ended up singing it softly*:

Read to the tune of "Amazing Grace"

“I wished upon a falling star
I left my home for you!
My heart ne’er left your glor-ious thoughts
And I will come home to you…”

When he finished, his friends were looking at him curiously. “Crystal send you a song?” Platinum asked.

“Yeah.”

“You think we’ll get out of this?”

“It’s certainly possible, but only time will tell. The odds don’t so good right now. Today we lost North. I don’t want either of you, nor anypony from Medical, or Logistics, or the other regiments, to die. But it does happen, so we need to be ready for when it does.”

“This war really changed you. You used to be much less serious as a colt. I think Peachy had a crush on you back home. Back where our problems could be solved without losing anyone. When we still had Bats - and also North now, I suppose.” Platinum sighed. “Let’s focus on one thing at a time. Getting out of this battle is the first. With as many as we can bring with us.”

“I don’t leave without Silvercrest.” Crimson stated flatly. South agreed.

“No matter. We get her, too.” Platinum looked skyward to see a bright ball of fire descend into the hill just below them. The heat from the proximity simmered his blood. “They have firebombs!” He shot a water spell at a second close one and it plopped down like a large, wet sponge.

Then a high-explosive artillery shell zoomed in, unseen against the coming nightfall. It slammed into the ground short of the trench and collapsed a large chunk of hillside. The roar was impressive, not from the explosion itself, but from the avalanche it caused. Both sides peered closely at the tumbled rock.

“What’s our ammo?” Crimson called down the line.

“Three shots per, Warrant!” Treetop called back from his end.

“Damn.” Crimson grimaced. “We’re not repulsing the next one.”

The Dominion line infantry marched slowly under the pall of smoke and roar of artillery. Crimson glanced over the trench wall. “Shit, they’re coming!”

But the enemy stopped just short of the large hole. The ponies raised their guns and fired. Screeches of pain, agony, and surprise burned themselves into the Atlanteans’ minds. The screams and moans continued, but were silenced by the next two volleys. Crimson stared down, realizing his army defended the top of an anthill.

Queen Duplicate sat in the command room, waiting patiently for the imminent break. Soil wasn’t impenetrable, after all, and it was the icing to the cake that was her hive. Then the rumble of artillery stopped altogether for a full five minutes, the silence nearly killing her. She glanced around, her pricking ears detecting a faint crackle of rifles. It suddenly grew louder as if it echoed through the caves.

“My Queen! The valley entrance has been breached!” a guard cried as he ran in moments later, covered in green Changeling blood from his wounds. Then he collapsed and died.

The Queen stood abruptly. “All defenders to their posts. Prepare to repel enemy troops. This is not a drill. All civilians evacuate the upper levels to clear a path for our soldiers. I repeat, this is not a drill,” she said aloud as calmly as possible.

Throughout the hive, Changelings ran to constitute the auxiliary guard, a reserve that normally protected those unfit to fight. The five main armories were quickly filled with clangs of armor and weapons and Changelings racing in and out. Civilian Changelings packed what they could and hurried to large spiral staircases that went down to deep within the bedrock while pulleys carried the young and elderly down the center of huge vertical shafts that extended miles below the surface. Torchlight flickered as more artillery pressure waves shook their perches.

“We’ve practiced for such an outcome for centuries,” the Queen said. “This is just the reality.”

“Queen Katie, the runners are coming in. Reports of several hundred ponies armed with extremely accurate guns are flooding through the breach, and more are pounding the walls in with their artillery!” her main commander said.

“Establish a perimeter around the central shafts. No pony gets through until the civilians are getting out of the escape tunnels.”

A runner raced out of the room to deliver the message. The commander issued orders for leaving the room after the next one came in, though. “Queen Katie, the enemy is barreling right through our troops. They’ll reach this area in a matter of minutes.” Already, the volume of gunfire had increased dramatically. It was getting hard to actually hear.

“I hope the Princess is out of here by now, milady!” yelled a runner. She wheezed for few seconds. “The palace caved in!”

Queen Duplicate sighed. “I hope so, too.”

Guard Captain Pseudonym ducked behind a wall as the Domination Army flooded the palace’s main escape tunnel. They fired multiple rounds at him, and he pulled Princess Mirage out of harm’s way. “To the secondary route!” he hissed.

She complied, clearly frightened by the sudden appearance of hostile ponies in her home. Mirage galloped to the solid rock wall and cast a single recognition spell. The wall slid open from her magic and the two ran through, closing it behind them. They hurried along the dimly lit corridor until flashes of light appeared in front of them. Mirage instantly jumped to the side while Pseudonym ducked. Bullets ricocheted off the solid granite walls.

Mirage teleported herself and her guard to the third exit portal. Luckily, no enemies had reached it yet. They ran out into the dark night, where they could spread their wings and fly. It didn’t take much encouragement to do so; the Dominion was really damn close. But once they were in the air, Mirage could see the surface battle in fair detail.

Seventeen tattered flags flapped in the wind above the valley entrance to her hive, the hill choked with blood. Artillery shells pounded the entire valley from the bluffs surround it. The forest fire had not begun to die down yet, so it provided plenty of illumination across Emberforge Valley. Red signals shot high from the Atlantean holdout. Mirage looked to Mount Emberforge as a response signal flew high above the siege around it. Neither the ponies in the valley nor those in the extinct volcano could see the other’s signals through the white smoke that hugged the valley floor.

“Princess, I must get you to safety. This area is too dangerous for one as important to our preservation as a hive as you are.” Pseudonym told her.

“I know. But those poor souls down there can’t see their allies. Give me a second.” Her crooked Changeling horn lit up with a spell. Before Pseudonym could warn her otherwise, Mirage shot the bright red bolt of magic straight up into the sky above her. It sailed beautifully in an arc to rest at the apex of its trajectory and rained magic lightning onto the bluffs. Red electricity superheated the ground and created a mirage-like effect that showed Atlantean flags on both sides of the valley to which the remaining Dominion artillery began firing at, oblivious to the ones behind them.

Several red signals were launched from the Atlanteans in the valley to the same height as her lightning strike. In response, more were seen from Mount Emberforge. Insanely bright flashes originated from long-range artillery stationed on the volcano’s highest cliffside terrace. The shells fell just short of the mountain’s end of the forest and exploded violently. Fragments flew in all directions and even made it to the low hill where the seventeen flags waved in defiance. Then the guns adjusted their aim to be slightly higher. Shells flew faster than Mirage could fly into the forest, sending their fragments over the hill and onto Dominion infantry.

“Princess! Now!”

Mirage flew low with her guard and raced to the main civilian exit points.

The Unicorn Airship Captain Maelstrom was at the helm of his flying frigate Perplexus to resupply Emberforge Base. His storm-gray coat and raincloud-white mane and tail stood still as if the winds had suddenly stopped. No matter; he’d just have the crew turn the propeller-spinning rotors down in the hull. They hated it, but it got the job done. Plus, Maelstrom’s innovative addition to his flying frigate meant they could even go against the wind to a degree.

Suddenly, a bright red spell flew from high up to arc over the center of the valley. It sent lightning down on the bluffs below, incinerating many of the flashes that continually went off. After a few moments, the flashes continued, but shot at each other instead of whatever was in the valley. Four bright red signal spells flew up through the dense smoke and Maelstrom realized what was happening. A battle was taking place.

The wind picked back up again in the direction he least wanted: over the battle-wrecked valley. “Stow the sails!” he called.

The Pegasi on his crew flew to stow the sails that hung from great masts sticking out the side of the flying frigate. The few that were unfurled above the deck were not stowed however. They were maneuvering sails. A Unicorn called out to the anchor party to wait until the Captain gave the order.

“All gun crews, to battle stations! We may have some company soon! Leave the anchor be; we’re a sitting duck if we let it loose. All crewmembers, this is the Captain. There’s a battle goin’ on below us, and it looks like our buds are losin’. If we go in, we’ll have to do it fast; the Doms still got artillery.” Maelstrom’s sole ear, his left, pricked around for more sound than it could process like usual. His hurricane-eye cutie mark shivered with static electricity.

“Captain, request permission to ready the cargo crane and rope ladders?” his first officer asked.

“Go ahead. We gotta hurry, though. A storm’s brewing.”

“Yes, sir.” The first officer turned to the crew. “Ready the crane and ropes! Open the lower cargo doors! Unpack the rescue materials and light the lanterns! We’re on the clock!”

Perplexus coasted in nicely to be situated above the remnants of the Atlantean Reserve Emergency Army. The the rope ladders dropped onto the crest of the hill.

Sarge saw the airship fly in and light its lanterns. Orange ones - they were here to rescue. He ran to the medical tent and yelled: “We’re gettin’ outta here! Pack up what you haven’t and get the wounded to the crest of the hill!”

Nurse Lieutenant Rose Thorn relayed the orders on and made sure they were carried out. The airship’s cargo crane lowered a platform that she put two nurses and the most heavily wounded on. Then it creaked up, unloaded and dropped back down, followed by many rope ladders.

“Climb the ladders if you’re able! Wounded and supplies only on the crane!” she called. Logistics ponies came in, herded by Sarge, and climbed the ladders.

The heavy starboard anchor dropped down from Perplexus and kept her from moving anywhere. It smashed the empty mess tent and sent splinters into the canvas, which protected those on the ground from injury. The cooks scrambled up, followed by other Logistics personnel.

“Sarge, how many do we have to go?”

“Too many. Judging by the size of the ship, its a flying frigate with a maximum capacity of thirteen hundred, not counting any cargo. We’re two thousand over the limit.”

Silvercrest and the Second Coastal ran up. “They’ve all gone into that cave system. We’re in the clear for now on that side.”

Sarge frowned. He was going to regret this next decision, condemning many brave ponies. “Silvercrest, get your troops up the ladders. I know you’ve got the biggest regiment left, but you’ve also got the new toys. I must keep as many as I can from falling into enemy hooves. And tell the Midlands guys that you picked up to climb as well.”

“Yes, sir.” Silvercrest ran to the Midlands regiments she found earlier that day to retreat. They did and waited their turn to go up. The four remaining artillery pieces and scrounged ammo was sent up the crane with gun crews and a steady flow of trickling wounded.

Captain Maelstrom watched the ponies gain his deck and hoist each other up. “How much cargo are we hauling, and what is it?” he asked his first officer.

“Food mostly, Captain. A few bombs we could drop on the Doms. if we spent some ammunition hitting the enemy, we’d have slightly more space.”

“Fill up everything, including the rotor room. Have those getting up here to eat. That’ll prevent some food from being wasted. Lower the ocean emergency rafts for more space. And fire on the Dominion.”

“Yes sir.” A moment later, the thunderous BOOM of twenty cannons broadsiding Dominion forces was heard. Bombs were sent down when the crane lowered, and got spent quickly when the Dominion realized their foe was retreating. More canister rounds from Perplexus’ guns silenced many battle cries faster than the bombs could. The edible cargo was greedily accepted; most of AREA hadn’t eaten much all day.

Silvercrest was the last of her regiment to come up the ladder, carrying her flag up the ropes and tossing it up before she gained the deck. She was met by Rose Thorn, who checked her for serious wounds, then went on to meet her troops in the bow of the airship. They crammed themselves in like sardines to make more room for others. The Midlands guys did the same on one of the ocean rafts.

Maelstrom glanced worriedly at the bluffs. They’d been there too long, and he knew it. Thunderclouds were building to the south last he saw, and they were getting close now. But over fifteen hundred ponies were still down there. The ones that came aboard and were clinically healthy crammed in to make as much room as physically possible. A magic flare shot up to keep the Emberforge artillery from firing downrange at the frigate.

More and more of AREA piled on, weighing the airship down considerably. Maelstrom started to fear that he wouldn’t be able to get back up into the sky. The fighting below had intensified in some areas, so he wouldn’t be taking as many up, but his ship was literally overflowing. Ponies had filled up all the life rafts and upper decks. The only logical choice left was the twin lookout posts on the diagonal masts, but he needed those to be clear. “Cease firing! All gun crews, leave the cannons and help stuff ‘em inside!”

The twenty cannons were left sticking out of their gunports while the gun crews were able to bring ponies into the gun deck. Even more were crammed in. Perplexus’ thick cables holding her to the hovergas-filled ellipse strained noisily. If they snapped, everypony was doomed.

“How many left?” Maelstrom yelled.

“Six hundred fifty, dropping fast. We’re losing our guys down there! They’ve all sent up at least a dozen from each regiment with the flags.” Sarge called from the ground.

“What?” Maelstrom asked.

“Six-fifty,” one of the army colts said. He’d heard Sarge’s bellow even if the Captain hadn’t.

“Tell whoever’s down there that we don’t have any weight left! The lines are staining!”

Soon, Sarge himself appeared on deck and wormed to the Captain. “We lost the guys down there. I was the last one up. All ladders are stowed and the crane is raised.”

“Then let’s get out of here. How many did we pick up?”

“Probably close to two thousand. Thanks for the help.”

“If it weren’t for the lightning, I wouldn’t’ve even seen where you guys were. We can dock at Emberforge soon if the lines don’t snap on us.”

The flying frigate Perplexus rose slowly upward, out of artillery range, and Maelstrom unfurled the sails. He raised the dropped anchor as well. Meanwhile, Sarge sighed. He and most of what survived the day had escaped. Now they could get to the extinct volcano and do what they could.

Author's Note

I believe this is the longest chapter I've written to date. My first venture into the realm of 3,000-word chapters.

This Changeling hive will get a backstory, more or less, so don't worry.

Yes, Perplexus was just going along its route, pretty high up so it couldn't be seen and hit by enemy forces. But nighttime regulations would have them fly lower just so they can be rescued easier if they crash, so that's why the airship was low enough for her crew to see the "lightning" dead ahead.

Feedback appreciated.

17. Regroup (Meeting Princess Mirage)

Perplexus coasted down to float beside the large cargo dock inside Mount Emberforge. Her wooden hull had been busted slightly and her sails were torn, but she made it. The almost two thousand ponies stuffed inside like sardines in a can sighed with relief as the flying frigate stopped moving and let her bay doors swing open. They practically tumbled out when the doors opened, the wood having moved to no longer support them. On deck, the gangplanks came in, easing the flow of traffic a bit. Regiments, Medical, and Logistics slowly regrouped on the dock beside the airship.

The wounded were instantly carried to Emberforge Base’s medical division, which had more sophisticated equipment that couldn’t be easily moved. Gun crews waited for the crowd to clear the ship before transporting the four remaining pieces off. Meanwhile, the few officers left did a roll call to find out who had been lost during the battle. Among the Second Coastal’s losses were Northern Lights, Woodpecker, and the slim Cheese Wedge.

The Fourth Midlands, who’d defended to the 2nd Coastal’s direct left, was decimated. Out of the entire thousand two days before, only fifty had survived, with only two of them being officers. Nineteen out of six hundred from the Fifth Coastal still lived, and the 19th Cliffside now consisted of thirty ponies, most of them “walking wounded.” Seventeen tattered flags were held by their respective regiments, with as few as ten left under some of them. Most of the survivors originated from the 2nd Coastal and the 14th West Bank. What had been an army of thirty thousand was reduced to a fifteenth of its number.

Sarge saw the base commander striding toward the dock and waved. The commander waved back, and they were soon conversing about the situation.

“Sergeant Rolling Plains. We knew for sure you were dead as soon as the enemy guns opened up! They’ve surrounded us for the better part of a month, but wanted to destroy the army so they could just simply leave us and we wouldn’t be able to do a thing,” the commander said, tired.

“Thank you for your hospitality, General Nightingale.” Sarge replied, his voice hoarse. “We thought so, too. Where’s the bastard Continuum?”

“Not here. I believe he’s in Nautinia as of now. Why?”

“He sent us the orders that nearly killed us. Only pure luck got us out.”

“I hope I can sympathize. You see, Sergeant, Continuum has done… unusual things in the past. This kind of treachery may go farther back than either of us is able to reach.”

“I just want his head. And give the airship captain a medal. He deserves it.”

“Colonel, who’s the stallion talking to Sarge?” Treetop asked.

“General Nightingale. He’s run this base for nigh on fifteen years, almost as long as I’ve been in AREA. I met him when I first signed up as a lieutenant, and let’s just say we got a little too friendly. But I still respect him, even if… yeah.” Silvercrest shook her head. “It’s fine. That was a long time ago. Besides, another stallion’s got my life now.”

Crimson, Platinum, and Southern Lights exchanged looks. They figured as much from her tone and the way she bounced around the subject. That Silvercrest had a few incidents in her past was common knowledge, but the specifics weren’t.

“Little Moon!” Nightingale called as he recognized her. His entire body was as black as lightning was bright. The white outline of a bird showed on his flank. “Good to see ya’gain!”

“We drop the subject, alright?” Silvercrest quietly asked the ponies gathered around her. They nodded, so she continued, much louder: “Yes, it is, sir!”

Nightingale came and wrapped his hooves around her. “It’s been, what, twelve years?”

“Thirteen. Plus seven months. Three days. Twenty hours. Forty-nine minutes. Thirty seconds. Exactly. So, howzabout we don’t talk about the past and just focus on the task at hand?”

“Sounds good, Little Moon.” His ears perked up. “Someone’s at the door. I need to see who it is. Hopefully, it isn’t another Dominion ass.”

“I’ll get the troops some room and board while you go on.”

“Sounds like a plan. Don’t let me down.”

“Since when have I ever?”

“That day you left me to lead your own regiment.”

Silvercrest laughed. “That wasn’t disappointing for me! You better get going.”

Nightingale galloped to the thick rock double doors that were the entrance to his beloved base. “Who’s out there, lookout?”

“I can’t identify it. Some kind of black mare with holes in her, accompanied by a literal shitton - pardon the language, sir - of similar-looking things with her.”

“Any Dominion troops in the vicinity? Account for illusion spells and such.”

“No, sir. We ran them over seven times with a massive revelation spell.”

“Let in the one that’s knocking, and nopony else.”

“Yes, sir.”

Two teams of the strongest bodybuilders in the army jumped to their hooves and pulled against huge turning mechanisms. These in turn slowly spun gear systems that began to open the great doors after a minute. The rotational speed had been dramatically increased by the gears, allowing the hardworking ponies to even start moving the solid rock wall. As a crack appeared between the two doors, bright sunlight filtered by lingering smoke flooded in. Nightingale shielded his eyes for a few seconds.

Then a small, young voice called out: “Hello?”

“Dear Harmony, lookout, it’s a child! Let her in!” the general yelled.

Soon, the tall “filly” walked into the base. Her mauvish mane and tail matched her dark body quite well, as did the wings and eyes. She would’ve been considered a youngster if her head wasn’t a full two feet higher than Nightingale’s. The height added to the intimidation factor.

Her voice betrayed any intimidation, however. It was young and beautiful, like a songbird’s. “I am Princess Mirage of the Emberforge Valley Changelings. Our home was destroyed by your enemy yesterday, and it took us most of the rest of that time to regroup. If my subjects could come inside, we would greatly appreciate it, as we have nowhere else to go even if we wanted to.”

“We have Changelings here? I thought they only lived in Dom territory,” a soldier commented.

“Apparently.” his friend replied.

“Cut it, you two.” Nightingale’s order cut the air like a knife. “We may not be able to support all of your subjects, but we’ll try. Space is pretty limited since our troops are stuck here.”

“Thank you.” Mirage was hesitant to say that.

“Before you go,” Nightingale added, “I want to know why the hell we didn’t know you were here.”

“So, you claim to be a Changeling. Can you prove it?” Sarge asked. He and the highest-ranking officers were sitting around a table sipping on refreshments while Mirage told her story. Dim torchlight lit up the room, but not by much. The rock walls practically absorbed light.

“Yes, I can.” Mirage transformed herself into a pony with a flash of green magic, then back into her natural form in the blink of an eye. “Is that good enough?”

Sarge wheezed. A bit of smoke had gotten into his lungs. “Yeah. Sure.”

Nightingale was the next to speak. “Every hive is controlled by a Queen. Where’s yours?”

“I wish I knew. Mother’s still alive; that much I do know. Otherwise, I’d be able to control all the members of the hive right now. My mother never actually used her telepathic link, but mine has not been active, so I’m more of an individual at the moment.” Mirage was determined to keep calm throughout the questioning.

“But you can still tell them what to do?” Silvercrest asked.

“Yes. Changeling magic is complicated; I’d prefer to leave it at that.”

“I got nothin’.”

“If your Queen is alive, she’s most likely a prisoner of the Dominion. With our army the state it’s in, we are in no position whatsoever to help you get her back. I’m sorry.” Nightingale said. “It just can’t be done. All we have is a couple thousand and four guns against the entire Western Domination Army - one hundred thousand strong.”

“No, there’s a possible way to do this,” Silvercrest mused. “The Changelings can disrupt them, and we move in with the main force.”

“Colonel, we are outnumbered by a factor of fifty.”

“When has that stopped us, General? As I recall, Captain Middle Road has defended against a sizable portion of their navy using a frigate, three corvettes, a bunch of fishing dinghies, and a half-wrecked alien warship. I also hear she’s converting a brig from the Summercrest Shipyards into a dirigible carrying plenty of guns. Shooting from high up increases your range, so that thing could pound the Doms without suffering a scratch.”

Mirage looked up from her hooves on the table. “In whose favor is this war going?”

“Theirs.” Sarge stated flatly. “If you can tilt the tide, it would be great.”

“I can. If we can drive them away from the hive, I can access some things the Dominion will want, but so will you.”

“What is it, exactly?” Nightingale asked, curious.

“Hovergas. We have entire storage areas of the stuff deep underground, created by my mother to hold it after Emberforge went out.”

“How much?”

“Enough for at least ten of your ‘flying frigates.’”

Silvercrest, Nightingale, Sarge, and the other officers dropped their cups. Sarge even spit his out like a mist. He then wiped his mouth with his hoof, eyes still wide.

“No single deposit has had enough for three in the past!” Silvercrest cried.

“How is this possible?” Nightingale was visibly running the likelihood of it in his head. “The odds are worse than surviving a head-on assault against a Dominion battle line using a single unarmed rowboat!”

“We’ve been collecting it for years.” Mirage replied. “Though I don’t know if my mother would allow me to give it up.”

“I have a proposition for you, Princess.” Sarge had gotten over his initial shock and had gone to business mode. “We take back your hive for you and rescue your Queen, and you give us some of the gas in return.”

“How much gas?”

“Enough for three ships. That’s all I got for now.”

“I could possibly do that.”

“So it’s settled.” Nightingale glanced at everyone there. “So, what’s the plan?”

Author's Note

So, Emberforge Base itself isn't that important to the plotline yet, so I don't care about description. It's an underground base in a volcano. That's all you need to know right now.

Next time on TRSR: the Battle for the Hive/Second Battle of Emberforge Valley. Changelings and ponies, woo!

Feedback appreciated.

18. Trust Issues and Decoys

Crimson blinked, recoiling in shock. “We’re what?”

Treetop looked up from a book. “Changelings? Did I hear you right, Colonel?”

“Yes,” Silvercrest said, exasperated. “I don’t care for anypony’s disposition on Changelings. We’re helping them get their hive back.”

“With odds of fifty to one? Sorry, ma’am, but it ain’t possible. I mean, it might be if we had some o’ the old guys, but we don’t. Silvercrest, over the course of this war, we lost Woodpecker and one of the twins, not to mention Bats, the Martian, Spaniard, Challenger, Knifeblade, Swordedge, Backstabber, Golden Sands, Silver Lining, and Eagleface.”

“I know, Treetop, I know. So we make do with what we have.”

“Is there even a plan?” Crimson asked.

“Not really, Warrant Dawn. However, I’ve been given full command of the force being sent, which amounts to almost ten thousand, counting us. The odds are better than you think, Treetop.”

“Ten to one, Colonel. Most of our guys are Changelings. Changelings, ma’am. Does anypony remember the Port Snowfall incident?” Treetop’s voice had a dangerous but subversive edge to it. Nopony agreed with him, so he explained. “One hundred sixteen years ago, the town of Port Snowfall on our northern border was visited by ponies that morphed every so often to become somepony new. Each time they did, they exploited the town at every opportunity. The king back then had to call in the army; it was getting so bad. The weird ponies were tracked as far as Emberforge Valley before they vanished completely, never to be heard from again. Emberforge Base was established afterward in case such an issue repeated itself, but it never did.”

Treetop put down the book and stood up. “Don’t you see? These are the same creatures that caused the Port Snowfall incident. I can’t trust them enough to work with them, much less fight alongside them.”

“Treetop, I understand your concern.” Silvercrest had taken on an authoritative tone. “But we are to work with them if we are to ever go home. So I suggest - no, scratch that, order - you to do so. Any problems will be dealt with swiftly and severely. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” chorused the officers and NCOs.

“Good. You start in ten.”

Crimson, Platinum, and Southern Lights were partnered with Princess Mirage and her bodyguard Pseudonym. The first five minutes were awkward, with each side bouncing around a greeting, until Mirage finally said, “Let’s just get on with it.”

“Right. Sorry.” Platinum said.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not supposed to go to the front line, so I asked to be put with somepony who wasn’t going there, either. You three are the ones Colonel Silvercrest mentioned?”

“Yes. I’m Crimson, the Unicorn to my right is Platinum, and the one to my left is South.” Crimson replied. “I do have one question, though. Who sent the lightning the other night?”

Mirage chuckled. “I did. It saved your lives.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Southern Lights said. “Judging by your status, we’re supposed to protect you from the Doms while our friends go in and take back your hive. Is that correct?”

“Yes. Pseudonym is more than capable, though.”

“Our commanders don’t seem to believe so.”

“It’s a trust thing, most likely. I heard about Port Snowfall.”

“Since we’re allied, I see no reason to keep referring to past doings and just get on with the now,” Platinum said. “And right now, we’re taking back your hive.”

In the darkness of an Emberforge Hive prison cell, General Broken Limb walked around Queen Duplicate in a circle. While he did so, she refused to obey him. The guards holding her down with chains and a horn lock prevented her from doing much more, however.

“A Changeling Queen has not been seen in rightful Dominion territory for three thousand years. No matter the cost, our Kings have been obsessed with finding one since before you were born, most likely. You see, rumor has it that Changeling Queens bear the most beautiful of fillies when with a stallion.” Broken Limb continued walking as he talked.

“I wish I could tell you how false that is,” Duplicate snarled, “but it turns out that you rumor, according to my cousin Paradox to the far west, has been proved otherwise. You would be tested dearly to get the same result from me.”

“I’d love to try, but King Oddity would rather you be for him only.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Sadly, I can’t grant that request.”

Duplicate rolled her eyes. “As if you even wanted to,” she said, sarcasm thick in her voice.

“I could convince you to go on your own free will.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I have a strike team making its way through your escape tunnels that lead through Mount Emberforge. They will break into the Atlantean base and, if your daughter that we know is alive is there, will bring her back to me. If you do not agree with my terms, I will terminate her.”

“You wouldn’t dare murder a child!”

“She doesn’t seem constrained. In fact, it was her lightning mirage spell that prevented my artillery from destroying the Atlanteans while those ridiculous little brats escaped on a flying frigate.”

“Against my orders. I told her to vacate the area.”

Broken Limb actually laughed in spite of himself and his rank. “Doubtful. I will return when your daughter’s life is hanging by a thread.”

Three wounded but alive Changeling guards, the ones who had stayed behind with Queen Duplicate, were in less pleasant chambers than their Queen’s. Two stayed in the corner while the third was interrogated relentlessly in a different room for any information regarding the Changeling Princess and her possible whereabouts. The former had already cracked, but the latter kept going. He would soon give in, however, as the Dominion interrogator used cruel and unusual ways of obtaining what he wanted.

Another few minutes, and the third guard was tossed into the cell like a rag doll.

“Captain! Did you give it to ‘em?” one asked.

“No,” the Captain weakly replied. “They almost got me, though. Another minute and I would’ve told them everything.” He coughed up a few drops of blood. “They…”

“You need not describe it, sir. We’re all witnesses.”

“If they come for me again, kill me. You can’t let them force it out of me.”

“Force what, sir?” the second asked.

The Captain hacked. “That the decoy worked. That the Queen isn’t in the Hive.”

Author's Note

A little short, but I ran into a good chapter-ending line. Besides, the Battle for the Hive is soon, but I got a bit distracted. So you have this instead.

Feedback appreciated.

19. Attempt on Mirage

Crimson, Platinum, Southern Lights, Pseudonym, and Mirage all sat around a circular table, chatting about the modern world. The three soldiers described their home in great detail, from the color of the lighthouse to the width of the roads. Mirage was fascinated by the peacefulness their stories and descriptions gave her to picture.

“Summercrest sounds like quite the town to visit. I should go sometime.” she said.

“My home serves as the VIP guest house. You’d be welcome anytime.” Crimson smiled.

Platinum was about to say something when his ears perked up. “You guys hear that? Hoofsteps.”

“I hear it, too.” South was out of his chair, holding his repeater close with his magic. “Armored. I think they’re tired, as if they just dug out a ton of rock.”

“What makes you say that there’s more than one?” Mirage asked.

“It’s not hard.” South looked incredulously at the Princess. He then turned back to his job: protecting her. “If I fire a round, get out the back way. I’ll follow as quick as I can, if I can.” He opened the door a crack, walking down the dimly lit corridor. He almost didn’t even see the four black-armored Dominion Elites staring back at him.

“HOLY SHIT!” South yelled, shooting a single bullet into the group and turning around. He raced for the door and swung it shut, pulling the lock down into position.

Crimson and Platinum were already out the other way, covering both sides while Mirage and Pseudonym followed. The gunshot was echoing throughout the entire base, dissipating slowly. The Changeling Princess had a look of pure terror on her face as she bolted just behind the Atlanteans.

One of the ponies from the 4th Midlands walked out of his room to see the four run past him, followed by South, who went backwards. “What the hay’s going on?” he yelled.

“A squad of Doms just came outta fucking nowhere, that’s what!” Southern Lights yelled back. “Get the others up; they might be after our leaders!”

The Midlands colt just blinked. Then another gunshot rang out, from a Dominion gun this time, and he ducked. The initial surprise wore off after a few seconds. But it was a few seconds too late, as the Dominion Elite shot him in the side of his head. He fell over instantly, his blood splattering on the rocky floor.

South fired a single round into the squad. He was lucky enough to hit one. The Dom faceplanted and nearly tripped the one next to him as he fell. The other three dodged and moved on, slowly gaining on the tiring Atlanteans and Changelings.

Mirage rounded a corner, leaping over a magical net cast in her direction. Pseudonym climbed the wall and leaped down, racing to keep up. Crimson, Platinum, and South skidded into the wall and sprinted after a brief recovery. They continued taking wild shots at their pursuers, but missed every time. The Doms missed as well because of their subtle zigzag running pattern. One near miss went right through a hole in Mirage’s left hind leg.

South dove into a crevice at the side of the hall. He watched as his pursuers past him, waited a second, and stepped back into the hall. He stared down the sight, pinpointing his target, and pulled the trigger. The Dominion pony instantly fell as blood oozed from a little hole in the back of his head. The remaining two turned around to face this “new” threat. Crimson and Platinum took that chance to put bullets in their heads, killing them.

“Damn, South. I didn’t think about that.” Platinum said, walking to the three dead soldiers.

“Yeah,” Crimson commented. “Princess, it’s safe!” he called to the shivering Changeling. She walked shakily to the growing pool of blood.

“It was nothin’,” South said. “I just saw an opportunity and took it. After all, this dark hallway would’ve kept them from seeing me do it.”

“Let’s get to the Colonel,” Crimson said. Then he saw the group of ponies approaching, clad in Atlantean uniforms. “Or we can wait. She’s coming to us.”

Silvercrest eyed the dead Dominion ponies. “Good job.”

“South had the idea.” Platinum stated.

“That’s not what matters to me. What matters to me is the fact that you three kept our ally’s current leader from being killed or captured. Also, we found the hole they came through. It seems to go all the way to the hive.”

“We can retake our home!” Mirage brightened.

“I think we’re all planning on it.”

A lone Changeling, tall and slender, limped to her hive’s evacuation rally point. Her weight painfully transferred to her broken right foreleg and her limp shifted back to the left. The crooked horn atop her spherical head had been snapped at about halfway and greenish blood still trickled out of it, getting in her green eyes. Her transparent green dragonfly wings were torn and folded along her scratched, cut, and bruised torso.

If Chrysalis were to come right now for a “state visit,” I’d be taken quickly - and, in effect, what’s left of the hive, she thought.

She’d long discarded all thought of reaching the Atlantean underground base dug from Mount Emberforge. The Dominion armies had surrounded it and were now shelling the place with explosives that went off upon impact with the ground. She could still see the smoke from here, four miles to the south. The haze from the fighting in the valley a few days ago had finally been carried away by the wind.

Turning to the north, she watched the bright flashes light up the early-evening sky. Response flashes came from the mountain and a deep rumble drifted down from the constant cannon fire. She turned back south and trudged on.

The established evacuation rally point was still a few miles farther. She stopped walking to lie down on the ground, curling up with a flower bed around her.

She woke early the next morning to a much louder rumble than before. The guns hadn’t been moved; that much was obvious. If they had, somepony would’ve caught her by now. Instead, something was probably going by somewhere above her.

She looked up. A massive wooden-hulled vessel had approached during the night and was circling Mount Emberforge. The Dominion colors flew behind it, waving in the wind. The Changeling dropped down, staring up at the thing. It was enormous! The thing had to be at least seventy meters long and not quite thirty across. The dirigible balloon it hung from was even bigger, casting a shadow that enveloped both the vessel and the ground far below. The vessel’s guns had been firing at Emberforge, and their proximity woke her.

Now that she was up, she began walking on, away from the battle, the chaos, and her lost hive. Her limp had worsened overnight; she’d slept on top of her broken leg without realizing it. She kept going, though, and reached her destination an hour later.

What’s this? Not one of my fellow Changelings made it out that day? She walked down the low hill and saw that somepony had indeed camped here. Then they’d left abruptly after a single night, heading towards Emberforge, back the way she came. A note, pinned on a tree, caught her attention. It read:

To whomever it may concern:
We are the Changelings of the Emberforge Valley Hive. Our hive was taken from us and we camped in this spot for that night. Afterwards, we left for Mount Emberforge, hoping that the Atlanteans within its base’s walls would help us reclaim our home. Our Queen Duplicate was captured by the Dominion of Apollo. Her daughter Princess Mirage is all we have left. With her guidance, we may just have a chance.
~Hive Guard Captain Pseudonym

The lone Changeling looked at the note, reading it again. It certainly was Pseudonym’s hoofwriting. Then she looked north, where the white smoke of cannon fire hung low and the Dominion dirigible circled. Queen Duplicate stood as straight as she could on a broken leg and started hobbling on her three working legs.

Don’t worry, my daughter, she thought. I’m coming for you.

Author's Note

Feedback appreciated!

20. Changeling History

Mirage stood unflinching next to an artillery crew as its members mechanically went through the motions like the trained professionals they were. The great gun belched a choking cloud of white smoke that she shielded herself from with a simple filtering spell.

Red shells streaked overhead as the day wore on. Many came from that new Dominion “flying frigate,” DNV Music And Lyrics, which sang its song in the form of deadly artillery. Its guns had more range than the Atlanteans’ own dirigible, Perplexus, which was currently grounded for necessary maintenance. Music And Lyrics had a longer range than even Emberforge’s stationary defenses.

She considered shooting the “flying frigate” down with a lightning spell, but decided against it. A stationary target was hard enough to hit with a barely-contained spell like Lightning, and that wasn’t even referring to the skill of the spellcaster. So much concentration was required that she could literally fry her brain getting ready to unleash.

Her bodyguard Pseudonym stood like a statue next to the chatting Crimson, Platinum, and Southern Lights. The three Atlanteans were still partnered with her, but she didn’t mind. They did save her life the day before, in the dimly lit corridors deep underground. All three seemed to enjoy the “fresher” air up top, but were antsy about getting shot at. But who wasn’t?

Crimson raised his repeater and twirled it around, making sure it was unloaded before he did so. A bit of rifle twirling later, he dropped it on the rocks and chipped the stock. He sheepishly picked it back up and tried again. This time, he was joined by Platinum and South, and they all failed hilariously.

After that round of giggles passed, Crimson looked up at Mirage. He then asked, “Why does your hive feel the need to keep you so safe?”

Mirage sighed. She knew the question was bound to come. “Only a Queen can control the Hive. Her telepathic link with the drones allows for that. In the event that the Queen dies, it is the duty of the eldest Princess to take her place as Queen. The link is transferred right at the moment of death.

“A Changeling Queen can only give birth to a live Princess once every century, give or take a couple years. During that time, her anatomy is magically changed to allow for that; the rest of her life, she can only lay eggs that hatch into newborn drones. My mother’s latest chance resulted in me, just shy of seventeen years ago. You follow?”

Crimson nodded, so she continued: “The Emberforge Valley Hive almost lost its lineage to the Dominion’s elites five hundred years ago. Queen Duplicate, my mother, was the sole survivor of that encounter. Ever since then, she has kept a tight lid on what her Princesses can do in the interests of keeping the Hive safe and with a leader. Got it?”

“Just one question,” Platinum asked. “How do you know when that… time is?”

Mirage looked blank for a second. Then it clicked. “Oh, that time. I know what you mean. I guess it’s kind of a thing that the Queen would just know.”

“Okay.”

“Anyway, my mother strived to protect me and prevent such a disaster from recurring. And she has good reason, so I don’t argue.

“My hive was never always in Emberforge Valley. My mother recalls growing up in a country east of here, where the vast Dominion stretches more. When her family was all but destroyed and she became Queen, she gathered up the Hive and left. They almost didn’t make it. After a year of retreat, constant attacks, and hard labor, she and her subjects launched crude rafts to cross the deceptively wide Narrow Ocean. Followed by the Dominion navy, they weathered storms, sea monsters, and low provisions as they islandhopped westward. Most of the rafts were lost, but they were cast ashore during the night near what you call Cape Lune.”

“Is that how this land was first colonized by the Dominion? They followed you here?” South piped up.

“Yes. They continued the chase for another several months until we disappeared under the bluffs here, where we remained for five hundred years, expanding and upgrading the dried lava tubes for our own purposes.”

“Woah.” The three ponies’ jaws dropped. “That’s amazing.”

Even the gun crews had slowed their fire to hear the story. One asked, “Hey, are there any female drones?”

“Actually, yes,” Mirage replied. “Female drones are quite common, and they can lay eggs to hatch into more drones. It’s just that the Queen is the only one capable of bringing Princesses into the world.

“And the original subject calls to mind an interesting topic. If the entire lineage of a Hive is destroyed, another Queen may come and establish her own link with that remaining Hive. She then becomes their Queen. Sadly, I know of a couple Queens that abuse this rule, namely Chrysalis, Flutterby, and Nautica. Now that they most likely know the situation here, they will no doubt come and attempt to take control.”

“That won’t happen,” Silvercrest said. She’d listened in as she approached the group, noticing the slightly lower rate of fire. “The invasion’s about to start.” Raising her voice, she called, “All artillery crews, switch to fuse shot!” The order was relayed down the mountain, the ponies responding to it as soon as their guns had fired the round already in them. Then the mid-air explosion of fuse shot sent shrapnel down on the encamped Domination Army still on the surface. Round shot had done well, but the process of systematically wrecking the enemy sped up considerably now that the fuses blew more pieces into the target.

“I want to lead,” Mirage said simply. It wasn’t a request. It was said like an order.

“You know why you can’t.”

“Yes, I know. I don’t care. I’m leading my Changelings into my hive and I’m taking my hive back.”

Silvercrest noticed that the Changeling army was gathering at the front gates, judging by the commotion her ears picked up. “They expect you to, don’t they?”

“Of course they do. It’s tradition in this Hive for the Queen, or in this case, her eldest Princess, to fight alongside her subjects. If I do not, I may lose any moral authority I have.”

“Since you put it that way, I guess you must be there. Just don’t die.”

“Thank you. Pseudonym, come on!” Mirage spread her wings and flew through the underground corridors to her waiting army.

“Crimson, Platinum, South, I want you to go with her. If she does go out there, at least somepony’ll be with her.” Silvercrest gestured to the expansive wilderness being torn by artillery.

“Yes, ma’am!” they chorused. The three hustled down to Mirage and explained their orders, catching up when she was in front of her army, wearing a full suit of flexible morphleather armor.

She stared at them for a second. “Fine. Let’s go kick the Dominion out.”

Author's Note

I Pinkie Promise that next chapter is The Battle for the Hive. Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.

A little history on the Emberforge Valley Changelings! I'd like to know how much sense it actually makes and if it's necessary. It does increase the lore, I guess, but it might just be filler. I hope not!

Feedback appreciated!

21. The Battle for the Hive (Second Battle of Emberforge Valley)

The great stone doors creaked open as their gearbox mechanisms whirled. Bronze and wooden gears spun at ridiculous speeds, risking friction heat and a possible fire. Worst case scenario, the gears would all melt and burn. Best case, the doors would open.

Mirage stood at the spearhead point of her wedge-formation army, flanked by Platinum and South on her left, with Crimson and Pseudonym on her right. A predatory grin spread on her face as the ten thousand pounds of rock swung inward, the mid-morning sun shining brightly into the entrance corridor. Her Changelings buzzed with excitement. The three Atlanteans tensed. Then the doors opened sufficiently for a charge.

Mirage looked at her bodyguard. “For Mother.” She swung an Atlantean steel sword in a wide circle with her magic, racing through the open entrance.

The four entrusted with the Princess’s life ran after her. A split second later, the entire remnants of the Changeling army followed. The buzzing of wings and thundering hooves were terrifying. Thousands of Changeling soldiers ran at full speed into the two miles of open field.

The weary, terrified Dominion soldiers sat in what remained of their camp. Then a picket ran into the area, screaming that the enemy had come out. Everypony gathered up their arms, jockeyed into position… and were wrecked by Atlantean artillery that couldn’t resist the juicy targets they posed. Return fire from Music and Lyrics kept the guns from firing much more, however, since it turned that section to dust.

The ragged Domination Army regiments above ground saw the charging wedge of furious Changelings. Some immediately dropped everything and ran, but most stayed in formation, waiting for the order to fire. An officer called it out. The troops raised their smoothbore rifles and shot a volley into the masses.

Mirage dove over a bullet as it hit the ground. She ran on, casting a magic shield in front of her. Other Changelings followed, expanding the transparent green shield into a wall that blocked everything shot or thrown at it. It washed over the defending Doms without effect, but the thousands of pissed Guards and armed civilians behind it definitely had one.

A melee clash ensued. Ponies and Changelings jabbed at each other, cast and avoided spells, and fired their guns if they had any and room to do so. Crimson’s own rifle went off several times. The rest of the fight, he and his friends were in a circle with their backs to each other, hitting oncoming enemies with their rifle stocks and short swords.

Platinum swung his sword in a wide arc in front of him, feeling a jar when it hit the leg bones of an opponent. Blood poured onto the ground from the cut artery. Platinum yanked his sword out and swung again, finishing the job.

South used his rifle bayonet instead of the sword he practically hated. A quick slash cut the throat of his attacker. Then he thrust forward into the eye socket of another, literally feeling the scream of pain in his bones. He twisted his gun, causing the bayonet to cut even more, then yanked it out and slashed again to put his opponent out of his misery.

Crimson fired his rifle at point-blank into a Dom, then turned to the next pony and fired again, emptying his magazine before resorting to melee combat. One moment, his back was to Platinum and South; the next, he was alone; the next, Mirage stood next to him. The Changeling Princess panted from the constant exertion of battle.

“I think we have this down, Warrant,” she said between breaths.

Crimson stole a glance at her. Sweat glistened off her mauvish mane, dripping slowly into the blood-soaked slush that used to be solid soil. The many holes in her form had been added to with cuts, bruises, and tiny bullet holes. Her left wing hadn’t taken much damage, but that couldn’t be said for her right, as it had been ripped in half. His expression told her everything.

“Don’t worry about my wing. It’ll grow back in a couple months. For now, we need to block the valley entrance.”

The Dominion ponies were gone. No soldier loyal to King Jagged Edge had survived the surface battle, and those below were afraid to come out.

“How many did we lose?” Mirage asked a Changeling Guard captain when he came to report.

“Out of the 7,000 Guards left from the evacuation and the 90,000 militia, about 4,000 Guards and 70,000 militia were sent to the heavens, Princess,” he replied.

“Captain Pseudonym?”

The captain lowered his head. “Gone, ma’am. He was right next to me when one of their big guns shot little balls and absolutely shredded him. His final request was to give you this.” He held a small, green-blood-soaked envelope with his magic. Mirage held it in her own, opening it to find a photo of herself and Pseudonym as youths, playing army with others their age. It was signed at the bottom with a single note:

Thank you for the adventure. Now go have a new one. ~Pseudonym

Mirage broke down. Tears flooded her eyes and her knees buckled. She fell into the mush sobbing. “No… He can’t be gone…” Then her spherical face turned harsh. Creases of anger and rage began to appear as her eyes shut tightly. She turned her head to the sky and screamed. Crackling green lightning shot up from her horn, some of it hitting a range limit and expanding over the entire valley in a ring.

The lightning continued on up, the magical heat finally losing its buoyancy and spread out like an oversized mushroom originating at Mirage’s horn. Green magic branched out into a circular tree formation. Then the concussion came. As the magic hit its ceiling, some rebounded down along with a shockwave that ripped the few remaining trees and shrubs right out of the ground. Rocks and boulders flew in an expanding ring of death. The cloud reached the base of Mt. Emberforge, racing up its slopes and over the top.

The ponies themselves weren’t affected outright by the shockwave. It was the flying debris that decimated unlucky ponies. Crimson ducked as a pebble zipped overhead and through a Dominion tent post, cutting the thing in half. Platinum sidestepped a tree branch. South dodged his own debris, as did the rest of the Changeling army.

Silvercrest viewed the battle from an artillery post high up the mountain. The spell’s sheer brightness caused her to cover her eyes in a vain attempt to protect them. The flash faded over the course of a few seconds, soon being dim enough for her to see. As soon as the lightning churned up a storm ring, she called for everypony to get inside or behind cover. Her instinct told her to run, but she instead became rooted to the spot in terror. Is this some kind of Dominion weapon? The thought briefly flashed through her mind before she was consumed by the cloud.

Silvercrest coughed. She’d been knocked back about ten feet and was lying on her side. She stood up shakily and looked around at the devastated artillery pieces and ruined valley. Almost nothing save for the army down there had survived the blast. Glancing at the sky, she saw traces of a greenish glow that faded slowly into the blue.

“What in all Harmony was that?” she asked in wonder.

Crimson looked to the Changeling Princess standing dizzily on her weakened hooves. The spell had taken much of her magical energy, maybe even spent it all. He saw Platinum walk slowly, cautiously, toward Mirage, and followed suit. A pack of Changeling Guards were behind him, even more frightened than he was.

“Princess? Are you alright?” Platinum asked.

“He’s truly gone,” Mirage whispered before her knees buckled and she fell onto her right side.

Author's Note

Yeah. Damn.

Anyway, sorry it took so long. I had lots of school and I felt that the Emberforge Valley Changeling Hive needed background before I did anything too major with them.

Feedback appreciated!

22. Changeling Reunion

A lone Changeling Queen limped to the edge of a bluff siding the Emberforge Valley. What she saw was not how she remembered the place. It had become practically a wasteland. Almost nothing was alive, save for the large group of her subjects across the valley.

She tilted her head to look eastward, where both the Atlantean and Dominion armies had entered the land. Right on top of the Valley Entrance to her hive was a pile of dead ponies, still burning atop a large pile of firewood. Over it lay a lone shredded Atlantean flag, ablaze from the fire below. Her acute vision could make out some regimental words, but she couldn’t read it.

Looking westward, she noticed the smoldering remains of an airship. It was a big one, and must’ve cost quite a bit of resources. The many gunports and once-proud Dominion emblem painted on its hull were shredded, crumpled, or burned. Black smoke hung low over the land like a dense fog just above her.

If I could teleport, I’d be over with my subjects right now, she thought.

Silvercrest stood next to Mirage, watching the cleanup efforts while trying to comfort the young Princess. Nothing could bring up the Changeling’s spirits, especially after they discovered that Queen Duplicate wasn’t even in the hive.

“Don’t worry about your mother. We’ll have Captain Maelstrom look for her with Perplexus,” she said.

“Mm-hmm.”

Silvercrest happened to glance southward across the valley. “Who’s that over there?”

Mirage looked through the corner of her vision. “That looks like Mother…”

A few Guards had begun to stare southward as well. One fired a green magic flare high above him. The response was a weakened yellow one. A resounding cheer arose as the Guards recognized the friend-foe identification system Queen Duplicate had set up. Changeling militia cheered as well, their yells rivaling the Guards in volume if not consistency.

Mirage let a slow, careful, relieved smile spread across her face. “She's still alive!” Her quiet comment was heard only by Silvercrest. “Thank Harmony.”

After Duplicate heard the cheering, she began the tough journey to meet her loyal subjects. She would've walked the whole way if several Guards hadn't come and carried her to her waiting daughter.

“Mirage, what are you - and the rest of the Hive - doing here?” she asked.

“Well, Mother, I thought that, with the help of the Atlanteans, we could take back the Hive. We succeeded.” The Princess lowered her head. “But we lost many. Too many, including Captain Pseudonym.”

“I know it's hard to let go of those you love. But we must be prepared to move on without them. Come, this place is too dangerous now that we've been discovered. Our next goal is to find a new home somewhere isolated, where the horrors of the world will not find us.”

Mirage stamped her hoof on the ground. “No. We owe the Atlanteans too much.” She gestured to Crimson, South, Platinum, and Silvercrest. “We've spilled blood together, whether it be red or green. I've seen their troops, Mother, and they are some of the bravest I've ever known. What they lack in numbers they make up for in ingenuity, courage, and skill. With our help, the Dominion would never come here again! The Atlanteans do not seek to exploit us, Mother. Instead, they ask for those who will stand! I've promised to assist them, Mother, and I will not go back on that. Eventually, we will run out of places to run to, to hide in. Our very survival depends on the Atlanteans winning their war, whether we like it or not. All they ask for is resources and soldiers willing to fight.”

Duplicate looked at the Atlantean camp set up beyond the Changelings. Ponies walked around, drilling, eating, making friends, and telling stories. Campfires lit up the dim afternoon as gray clouds were blown in by the wind. A brief laugh came to her pricking ears. She saw the nobility in them, in their cause. “Alright, Mirage,” the Queen said, focusing her eyes on the young Princess. “We’ll do it your way.”

Author's Note

Short but sweet. We will see Captain Middle Road and her crew down in Summercrest next chapter, so stay tuned! (I'm not lying this time, I swear!) :scootangel:

Feedback appreciated.

23. The Battle of the Eastern Celestial Sea

Captain Middle Road still had a limp when she walked into the main office for the Summercrest Shipyards. Her exec Tie Dye had relayed a request for her to come in just as the new construction ANS Ember was expected to be finished and ready to be pumped with hovergas.

The office was rather small, given its purpose as an administration building, but it was sufficient for their needs. Checkbooks and captain’s logs lined the shelves along two of the four walls. The wall behind the desk had a window that gave an extraordinarily good view of the harbor, and the last wall had the door. The entire building was made of “swamp oak” wood. The naturally moist wood rotted within a month, causing them to continually use the Governor’s residence during that time.

“What is it this time, Harbormaster Nightmane?” she asked.

“The names just came in for AREA’s latest engagements at Mount Emberforge and the earlier battle at Pacifica,” he said.

“I know.” Middle Road had already seen the list. She knew the harbormaster’s son was on the Pacifica one. It had to be hard on the graying stallion to learn his only son had been killed in action. “I should’ve told you.”

Nightmane looked downcast. He accepted the apology in words, but his heart told a different story. “I heard that Ember should be launched in a couple days,” he said, changing the subject. “The hovergas is ready to be pumped into the tanks. Also, the corvettes Dragonheart and Cape Lune are scheduled for launch at noon tomorrow.”

“I’ll take over here for now. You just go home, sir,” the Captain offered.

“Sure. I need some time off duty anyway, with Lunar Eclipse.” Nightmane stood up and walked out the door with the list of names in his saddlebag.

Middle Road contemplated sitting down. Deciding it was for the better, she did. With nothing else to do, she scrolled through the many messages from High Command. One of them caught her eye; it mentioned a new Artemis frigate. She read it slowly, making sure to not miss a single thing.

Captain [redacted] of the Atlantean Navy, I am giving you the most dangerous mission we have: to go deep into Dominion territory and deliver the Artemis class sailing frigate ANS Pearl to their admirals. They have offered quite the sum of money for both of us. The cargo specified is [redacted] from the [redacted] Project. You will only have one chance to do this. Do not fail me. Do not fail our true ruler Jagged Edge.
~[redacted]

Middle Road looked at the date it was sent: just three days ago. If this note was authentic and simply got copied and accidentally sent here, she had no time to lose. “TIE DYE!” she screamed.

Her exec hurried into the room, banging the door open. “Yes, Cap’n?”

“Read this and deploy the fleet. Spread out as far as you can! And tell the metal ship’s crew to be ready for action!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Tie Dye raced outside and burst onto the docks. “Cast off! Deploy a search pattern! Captain’s orders!”

Middle Road went to Indianapolis herself. She boarded, was acknowledged by a hastily made side party, and made her way to the command deck. “I want this ship on the open sea in less than ten minutes! Flood the drydock and make preparations to cast off!”

Alarm bells rang out. One Unicorn, who had finally figured out how to fly the flying machines (by looking reading the manual for three months), climbed into one of them resting on the starboard amidships catapult and flipped some switches. He’d spent his spare time repairing it by salvaging the other one, so he knew it was likely to fly. With help from his friends, he got the engine running. The noise was louder than fifteen roaring manticores, especially since he’d taken the windows off of the cockpit. It smelled kind of like the oil stuff that the engineering ponies always had a shortage of, mixed with the beautiful scent of burning things. The Unicorn used his magic to increase the catapult’s tension, bit by bit, before releasing it.

The flying machine shot forward, plastering the Unicorn on the chair behind him. He looked ahead and yanked the controls with his magic, causing the plane to pull up just before smashing into a storehouse. He banked the plane and flew out to sea.

Middle Road heard the racket and ran to the port bridge wing just in time to see the plane take off. She cheered its crazy pilot on, even though she’d never given him or her authorization to fly it. She was just amazed that it worked. She watched as its noise diminished over the open ocean, going on its first flight in Atlantis.

The “talking box” crackled. “Indianapolis, please respond. This is Seagull, checking the ray-dee-oh.”

Middle road ran to the radio. “Captain Middle Road here. I hear you. Just ask before you fly next time, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. Should I report everything I see?”

“Go ahead.”

“I see an Artemis-class frigate out to sea. It’s pretty far from land; right now, it’s a speck on the horizon without these cool double-telescopes.”

“Keep an eye on it. We’re headed there as fast as we can.”

“Yes, ma’am. Seagull out.”

Middle Road cast a communication spell to Tie Dye. “Chief, get moving! Possible hostiles are over the horizon. I’m heading out now.”

“See you there, Captain.”

An Earth pony looked up from the ship’s internal radio. “Captain, we’re ready to go. The dock’s been flooded; no leaks so far.”

“Let’s go. All… engines, is it?… reverse?”

The four rumbling propeller shafts began rotating. The massive steel ship slowly backed out of the flooded drydock, steering to point away from land when the bow cleared the dock. The lower hull’s red paint glistened in the beginning overcast sky, reflecting what sunlight came down on top of it. A light gray color scheme for the upper hull glistened less, but still smelled like musty paint. It was more drab than anything, but Middle Road wanted the cruiser to look pristine in the event that its original owners came looking for it.

The cruiser coasted forward for a minute as its propellers switched directions, then went into a pell-mell acceleration out of the harbor. On Sundering Sea, Tie Dye waved as Indianapolis zipped past. A rooster tail ten feet high shot up from the stern, soaking those behind the warship.

“Seagull, what’s it like out there?” Middle Road asked over the radio.

“Just fine, Cap’n,” Seagull replied over some static. “That frigate doesn’t seem to have spotted me. They’re holdin’ course, headed due east.”

“Alright. How’s the weather?”

“Quite a bit of wind, actually. Whoever built this had to’ve been insane to wanna fly! Too bad the clouds ‘round here aren’t controlled like in Equestria.”

“I’ll bet. Any storms on the horizon?”

“No, ma’am. But in this place, a squall can pop out of nowhere, so I’ll stay cautious, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead. Captain Road out.” The Unicorn turned to face the pony at the Helm. “Set a course at south-southeast. Full speed ahead.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The pony turned the wheel left, then straightened it after a few seconds. The coast disappeared quickly as gray clouds began to build up.

“Captain, the dinghies are stuck in port! The waves are getting too high. In fact, Sundering Sea is rolling so horribly, they might have to turn back,” somepony called out.

“Tell them to go back, then. We’ll do this alone if we need to. Prove that the oversized guns here are good in this sea.”

The pony acknowledged, already relaying the message through the “talking box.” Middle Road turned her gaze forward. The bow dipped into an unexpected trough, sloshing water over the wooden deck. Rain began pelting the windows relentlessly. The waves ran high for a squall.

Inside, Middle Road was thrilled. She never thought that her second mission in the Navy would be on an high-tech alien ship that could go in any direction, regardless of where the wind blew. The rolling waves and battering winds had no effect on the steel behemoth she sailed. Rain simply washed right over the light gray coat of paint without doing a thing to it.

The spotlights on either side of the bridge activated. The ponies operating them had strapped themselves down to the rail so they couldn’t be washed overboard. They scanned the dark sky amidst the pouring rain and sickening swell, looking for anything that might be of danger to the ship.

“Captain, Seagull reports that the frigate has rounded the southern edge of the squall! He also says his flying machine won’t fly much longer if he doesn’t land and refuel since he only brought a quarter… tank?… with him,” the pony on the “talking box” said.

“Understood. Tell him he’ll have to manage, and keep an eye on that frigate!” Middle Road replied. “Helm, steer to port, forty-five degrees!” When the ship had turned sufficiently, she ordered, “Rudder to amidships!” The ship’s direction straightened out.

The dark sky brightened considerably a few moments later as Indianapolis surged out of the squall. As soon as the pelting rain abruptly ceased, Middle Road could see the rogue frigate. “Signal them. They should have a ray-dee-oh. Tell them to heave to or be fired upon.”

The pony on the radio relayed the message. Meanwhile, the one on radar saw a lot of somethings. “Captain, a buncha blips just popped up! I don’t know why they didn’t earlier, but they’re here now!”

Simultaneously, Seagull called, “Captain, about two hundred of those Dominion ships of the line and fifty frigates just rounded the cape! Be ready to engage!”

“Weapons to port! Hard to starboard! Prepare to repel possible boarders!” Middle Road yelled.

Indianapolis listed hard to port as her rudder angled her to starboard. The massive steel behemoth still sailed effortlessly through the sea, as moderate as it was. Eight-inch guns trained to port, ready to fire on their targets, already chosen by the gunners.

The Dominion ships, in turn, made a beeline for the heavy cruiser. The plan was simple: overwhelm the defenses with enough ships and board. Take the ship by killing or taking the crew prisoner. Given the reloading time for the eight-inch guns, and their inability to hit nearby targets, Middle Road had them target the ships farther out while the five-inch secondaries fired at the ones closing in. Several weird guns with multiple holes in their barrels were carried around and mounted on the port rail as mattresses were draped over the side to protect from shrapnel and enemy longshots. As the Dominion ships of the line edged ever closer, the wind favoring them on an intercept course, the five-inch guns fired.

“Reverse turn! Hard to port!” Middle Road called. She doubted anypony heard her over the pounding weapons. Canvas-tearing shrieks ripped through the air and dissipated as the projectiles moved farther away. Orange fireballs flared up whenever the massive guns went off.
High-explosive naval artillery sent splinters spewing across miles of open sea. The closer wooden-hulled Dominion ships returned fire with their fifty-pounder cannons. White smoke appeared out of the blue as the powder exploded, sending the deadly, heavy balls of iron or copper at Indianapolis.

The cruiser shook from the impacts, all well above the waterline. It was obvious that the Dominion wanted to damage her buoyancy as little as possible, aiming for the main deck and superstructure. Many undershot or overshot into the water, but a considerable amount hit the ship. Middle Road kept herself from falling and raced to the port bridge wing. She watched a second multi-ship volley be sent like a big, smoky Hearth’s Warming present. “Why did I come out alone?” she groaned.

The drone of alien equipment grew louder and Seagull piloted his plane into a dive. He fired the forward-facing machine gun at a Dominion frigate, blasting it to splinters with the rapid-fire ratatatatatatatata. Seagull flew up and came in for another pass, sending a second frigate to the bottom. He whooped as he banked, almost hitting Indianapolis, and the crew cheered him on.

The pony on the radar called for Middle Road. “Captain! New blip, south-southwest! Don’t know what it is, but it’s makin’ a beeline for us!”

“Got it!” she called back. “Ray-dee-oh, try to talk to ‘em!”

“Already on it,” the radiopony grumbled, but visibly acknowledged the Captain anyway. She said the new standard “friend-or-foe” message several times at two-minute intervals. Eventually, a reply came through.

“Unknown vessel, this is the Atlantean caravel ANS Lavender Blue Sea. Identify yourself.”

“Lavender Blue Sea, this is the Summercrest Project. We request immediate assistance. I repeat, we require immediate assistance! A swarm of Dominion warships is attempting to board us!”

On the other end of the line, the Atlantean radiopony looked at his captain. “The Summercrest Project? Is that a ship name?”

“No. The Queen specifically told all available captains that the Summercrest Project is an alien vessel being overhauled in Summercrest. They must’ve gotten that same “treachery” letter we did, or they wouldn’t even be out here. Helm, I want an ETA of less than an hour!”

“Sir, that speed is impossible with a sailing ship!”

“Then use magic. Maybe teleport the whole damn ship?”

“What?!” the exec cried. “Teleport the whole motherfucking ship? We don’t have the on-hoof Unicorns to do something of that scale!”

“FIGURE IT OUT, DAMMIT!!”

The executive officer hurried off to collect all the Unicorns on Lavender Blue Sea, which amounted to about ten. “Alright, I need you guys to get us to just over the horizon in an ETA of about five minutes. Captain’s orders, and I’m stuck with you until it happens.”

The ten Unicorns had incredulous looks on their faces. “It’s impossible, sir,” nine of them said at once. One had a different view, however, and said, “If Princess Celestia in Equestria can defeat her power-crazed younger sister, we can do this.”

“She had the Elements of Harmony.”

“Okay, so? The point is, she did it. Come on, guys, let’s prove ourselves.”

They shrugged and joined him in giving Lavender Blue Sea a speed boost. Instead of pushing the ship through the water, they pulled the water around the ship. This gave a bit more efficiency in their magic for some reason, but who was to argue? It got the job done faster. The caravel cruised much faster than she was designed to. One of the Unicorns had to stop moving the ship in order to keep her from falling apart. It took longer than the captain hoped, but they still reached the battle quickly.

Middle Road watched helplessly as yet another volley smacked her ship. She looked to the north, expecting reinforcements, but knew they were too far from land to get help from there. Seagull and the plane had left an hour ago, finally too low on fuel to be of much use. So Captain Road ordered Seagull to beeline for the coast; maybe he’d even reach Summercrest. He reluctantly flew away.

Suddenly, shrieks that sounded like Dominion cannons but didn’t come from them shot overhead. One skimmed right over the bow, missing by less than a pony’s height. These shots hit the nearest Dominion ships and splintered the sea. Middle Road looked to starboard and saw a single Atlantean caravel’s bow slice through the choppy waves. Her barnacle-encrusted hull showed no signs of battle, nor much wear and tear. This was an entirely new ship of an ancient design: the Marine class. Fifteen guns a side, she was about three-quarters the size of an Artemis frigate. Her hull was made of a hardwood that took forever to rot, and her masts were cut-down redwood trunks from the Midlands district.

Lavender Blue Sea cut across Indianapolis’ bow, firing her two forward guns into the mass. Then she heeled sharply to port, and when she straightened, fired a small broadside of chain shot, ripping the Dominion sails and knocking many small holes into her targets. Middle Road had stopped to just watch the nimbleness that the Marine class was known for. The caravel tacked, weared, and even spun in circles to present more guns in less time.

The heavy cruiser continued her barrage of the rear lines. The two ships wreaked havoc on the enemy, which hadn’t expected Indianapolis to get help. Even though the cruiser had most of the kills, it was Lavender Blue Sea that halted and drove back the Dominion with sheer surprise.

Captain Middle Road smiled and spun into the bridge. “Helm, take us north. Ray-dee-oh, tell our friend ‘Thanks’ and ask if they want to come with us. We are the tip of the defense, after all.”

The two warships cruised at a much slower pace than either had just gone through, sailing north as the sun was lowered over the horizon and nightfall began.

Author's Note

Sorry it took so long. Writer's block! Also, a new story. This is my primary focus, though.

I'm hoping Lavender Blue Sea isn't a Deus Ex Machina, but she probably is. Anyway, she'll be in later chapters with Captain Middle Road.

I'm thinking about a new ship class, unofficially named the Bats Nightmane class or something like that by the citizens of Summercrest. What do you think?

Feedback appreciated.

24. Launch of Ember

“Captain Middle Road, I didn't know you received that same message I did,” Lavender Blue Sea’s captain, a young salmon-pink Pegasus named Lieutenant Commander Crabwalker, said. He saluted her for a brief moment.

“I thought I was the only one. But still, your timing was more than perfect, LCDR,” she replied.

“The pleasure is mine, Captain. I was ordered here because some Fireheart corvette isn't going to sail?”

“Ah, yes, ANS Ember. We fill her with hovergas today at noon and send her out on her maiden voyage to bring supplies to our soldiers in the Second Coastal. Since news is so slow these days, we'll get up-to-date intel on the boys and girls there.” Middle Road brightened.

Crabwalker didn't. “I need to tell you something. I'm sorry about the way I treated you at Double NC Academy. We were together for two years before I completely dumped you. In the rain. At midnight. I was hoping we could start over?”

“Maybe later, Crab. We have a war to win.” Middle Road walked off to where the new “flying frigate” Ember awaited her final checks before pumped.

“I'll take that as a yes, then!” he called after her.

ANS Ember, the converted Fireheart corvette, sat in drydock. Her crew was aboard, waiting for the hovergas to fill the large balloon’s tanks above them as steel support struts were slowly taken out from under the lessening weight one by one. A ribcage surrounding the balloon strained slightly, supporting more and more of the ship below it. The interwoven ropes became taut and skinny from the increasing tension.

Middle Road picked up an Equestrian-made megaphone and addressed the crew. “In less than an hour, this craft will launch and you will begin the maiden voyage of the first ship to finish construction here at Summercrest. And you will be going deep into uncertain territory as you locate and relieve our boys and girls on the front lines. The Dominion has airships as well, but their range can only get them just farther than Mount Emberforge. We will be waiting for your safe return here and welcome you into the extended family that is the Atlantean Navy.

“Our boys and girls are fighting for our right to self-government. They are willing to die so that we can be free of the tyranny and corruption in the Dominion. But we are fighting a battle of our own, that’s just as important. We fight to get them the supplies they need to continue their own fight.

“In the meantime, we hope to receive and stockpile enough hovergas to not only build another airship, but one that can launch our flying machine. One that can carry more of these “airplanes” that Seagull has proven we can repair, build, and fly. For now, the plan allows for four of them, along with food, fuel, and other necessities. I certainly hope to accomplish this feat before the Doms get wind of the most technologically advanced operation in the world. This is our home. We will not vanish without a fight! Here, now, we are all Atlanteans. We are all family, no matter our past, our present, our future - none of that matters.” Middle Road paused.

“I understand that a large-scale shipbuilding industry here would destroy our entire way of life. Which is why it will not be like Nautinia! We will only make what we feel is need! This is not the shipyards that can pump a frigate in half a week! This is not the capital of an entire country! This is a small town on the corner! And here, we feel more at home, with family, friends, those we know and care about. But despite our small size, this is the place where technology picked up the pace! We found a cruiser! Without it, we wouldn’t have repeaters on the front line, being held by our very own soldiers! We wouldn’t have kept the Doms away from Nautinia!

“But we aren’t here for Indianapolis. We are here now for Ember and her crew, attempting their maiden voyage. Harmony bless, and good luck to you!” Turning her attention to the task at hoof, she nodded to the Unicorns holding the ship down. “Launch in T minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, release!”

The Unicorns let go of the mooring ropes. Ember lifted and hovered gently above the dock, swaying a little from the tiny crosswind. Her crew unfurled the sails and she leapt forward to the north, carrying her cargo to AREA amidst a cheer from the crowd below.

Crimson Dawn munched on a roll as he walked alongside Platinum and Southern Lights in column. They were headed back to Pacifica to take it back. The entire column marched double-time in the hopes that they could cross the few hundred miles quick enough to catch the Doms there by surprise. After all, they believed AREA was stuck at Emberforge, surrounded by scores of Dominion troops.

Princess Mirage and four thousand Changeling Guards, about half her hive’s remaining military strength, hurried alongside. The rest stayed with Queen Duplicate and the civilian portion back at Emberforge. The ones that came, though, were excellent scouts, pickets, and cooks, surprisingly enough. They could mimic hundreds of dishes from across the world, including Princess Celestia’s personal cakes.

Mirage stuck with her subjects for the most part, but she had to check in with Sarge every so often. She was itching to destroy as many Doms as she could. And so was the entire force.

Author's Note

Little one today. Next: the Siege of Pacifica, or the Second Battle of Pacifica, or whatever you want to call it. I say it's a siege.

Year 2 of 13 should begin in about two or three chapters! I'm actually kinda excited, considering that the Battle of Aquarius River is midway through Year 6, and the Final Stand is Year 12. But tell me if I need to skip a couple months more in the following chapters for time's sake, or just go full in.

Feedback appreciated.

25. The Second Battle of Pacifica Part 1

White smoke flew out from cannon fire. The Atlantean artillery, reinforced from its four field pieces back up to three divisions, spat round shot over the grassy plain between the two armies. The Dominion’s replies squealed in arcs towards their enemies. A dense fog hung low on both positions, obstructing view and choking gunners. It was common to see replacements every twenty minutes to fill in for the ones choking their way to the field hospital.

Behind the Domination Army was the town of Pacifica, its graceful polished stone arches and peaceful lifestyle destroyed by war. More than half the population was enslaved in some way, whether it be personal or military. Most of the bridges crossing the nearby Aquarius River had crumbled. Agricultural fields were replaced by deadly trenches and artillery bunkers that clogged the land with a sulfuric haze. Three civilian factories, their tall ceramic stacks towering above the area, had been targeted immediately by the Dominion months ago and still hadn't been repaired. Their shattered windows and jaunty doors remained that way for months, and were seen as a strategic position that was instantly destroyed by the Atlanteans.

Two airships circled several hundred feet above the battle, one Atlantean and one Dominion, firing their cannons into the other’s side. Wood and other debris rained down from each shot as masts and hulls were knocked in. Bright orange flames licked the sides of both airships, the hot, explosive gunpowder blazing in their magazines.

Crimson peeked his head out from a hastily set up earthen mound and fired a shot, quickly ducking behind cover before replies could knock his head off. Platinum was sprawled to his right, his Unicorn magic letting him see through a dense shrub without being spotted. He fired multiple rounds before the enemy realized where the shots were coming from. South was to Crimson’s left, yelling at a new recruit.

“Stop sulkin’ and start shootin’!” he screamed.

The recruit was covering his ears with his hooves.

“Harmony dammit, get in line, soldier! This is what you signed up for!” Crimson yelled over his shoulder. “Battles are hard enough without ponies not doing anything but standing there!”

The recruit was simply scared out of his wits, unable to control his legs.

“Move, dammit, or we’ll get the Sarge on ya!” South yelled.

That got the recruit moving. He jumped into line, laying belly-down on the ground. “Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!”

Crimson glanced left down the line. The ponies in the regiment next to him were gearing up for a charge. With the Dominion equipped with single-shot muskets at best, the Atlanteans hoped to cross the field with few losses.

Oh, if only they knew. Crimson, well experienced from earlier battles, had a good idea on how many would actually make it. He guesses that Silvercrest knew it too, which was why the Second Coastal wasn’t gearing up now. He winced at the sight of three hundred ponies readying to charge.

Hundreds of gunshots rang out simultaneously as soon as they hopped over the earthen mounds. They were muffled by range, and that was all Crimson needed to know who fired. Bullets whizzed overhead and impacted the ground. Cries for help and groans of pain were heard. Platinum peered through his shrub again with his magic. “Oh, Harmony help us all.”

“What?” Crimson and South both asked.

“Those poor souls.” Platinum showed the two what he saw.

“Oh, no.” South said quietly. “Just… I don’t know what to say…”

Crimson peeked over the mound. “There’s two right there, still alive. Platinum, pull them over with your magic. South, tell the other Unicorns to pull everypony still alive back into the trench so we can get them to Medical! I also want everypony to cover for them!”

“Yes, sir!” And South was gone, running at full gallop down the trench.

“I hope this plan of yours works, Red!” Platinum yelled over the increasing volume of gunfire. The crackle of said gunfire, having been silent on the Atlantean side of the field, started up again with vigor - and surprise as the Second Coastal realized that the Doms were headed right to where the now-decimated regiment alongside them had been.

“Warrant Dawn!” a fairly new NCO - Our newest Earth pony Warrant Janelane, Crimson remembered - raced up to him and saluted. He returned the salute briskly.

“Yes, Janelane?” What kind of name is that?

“Sir, with Colonel Silvercrest out commanding the entire army with Sarge, and Lieutenant Treetop and the other officers just having been sent to Medical to get healed, you’re effectively our commander right now,” she said. Her spruce-bowling-ball cutie mark - Oh, like Jane smooshed with a bowling lane, Crimson thought - contrasted her maple coat and redwood mane and tail nicely, and her redwood eyes glistened with fear. “What do we do, sir?”

Crimson sighed, contemplating his move. “Extend the line down this way. We can’t afford three ranks, so bring it down to two and send everypony left over to me.”

“Yes, sir!” She ran off to start collecting anypony in the third rank.

Crimson whipped his head to look at his friend. “Platinum, run to the Fourth Coastal on the other side of that gap and tell them to do the same, coming down this way.”

“You got it, Red!” The silvery Unicorn hurried to Crimson’s left, holding his repeater with his magic. His helmet was hanging on at a jaunty angle that made him look kind of like a monkey soldier.

Crimson glanced over his mound. The Doms were taking their time, believing that the troops were all dead on that section. He fired off a round, taking out a decorated-looking officer before ducking. Fifteen bullets slammed into the dirt behind him, flying where his head had been literally a second ago.

A trickle of ponies came from the reduced third rank. Crimson moved them on down the line, extending the area covered by his regiment. Seeing that the Fourth Coastal was doing the same, he turned his head to find Janelane weaving through ponies.

“Sir, that’s all I could find.”

“Understood. Let’s hope we can hold.”

“I’ll go back and command them down on the right, sir. If that’s okay with you.”

“Go. see you on the other side, Janelane.”

She saluted and left. Crimson watched her go with that feeling that he’d just sent her to die. He shook it off and waved to Platinum, who was now approaching.

“Tying up the knots here, Red. A guy from the Fourth has command of the extension.”

“Got it, Platinum. But I want you down there for our guys. If the Fourth guy says no, then tell him I ordered it.”

“Yes, sir.” Platinum threw a mock salute, which Crimson returned just as goofily. “Take care, Red. Our first battle without the other at our backs.”

“Yeah. Harmony go with you, my friend.”

“And you as well, Red.”

Warrant Janelane stole a glance down the line to her right. Some Midlands regiment wasn’t too far away, close enough to send help, but just far enough to prevent her from sending runners. She saw her regimental colors to her left, the tattered flag still flying defiantly after its many battles. She knew that behind her, there were no second trenches, no reinforcements. Just the smoldering woods.

The woods… “You!” she called to a private. “Get three others and take cover in the trees behind us! Start picking off those motherfuckers before they get too close, then come back here when the Doms reach us!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Three young stallions hurried into the blackened shrubs and started firing at the approaching Dominion.

“Janelane, their whole damn line’s comin’ at us!” somepony cried.

“Then we hold. BAYONETS!” Janelane screamed. The soldiers quickly fastened socket bayonets to the ends of their repeaters. The clatter of metal faded out as they finished.

“Ready… Wait for it… Steady now… One volley, FIRE!” White smoke gushed out from the Atlantean guns. Bullets flew across the field and knocked several dozen Dominion ponies cold. Their limp bodies fell to the ground and oozed slowly. Janelane herself had never taken a single life during her time; her NCO status was practically bought by her self-absorbed father. Looking at the oncoming enemy, she knew that was about to change.

Princess Mirage of the Emberforge Valley Changelings sent a single bolt of green magic at her attackers. Ducking behind a mound of dirt, she turned to her second-in-command, the newly promoted Captain Red Sun, named for his bright red mane, wings, and tail, which had resulted from a one-in-a-million hatching defect - literally - and who had proven himself a worthy commander during the Battle for the Hive. Since then, he’d lived up to his position, but never truly could ever replace Pseudonym.

“Red Sun, you see that smoke down there by the Second Coastal?” She gestured to the south, where the entire area had just seemed to erupt like a volcano. Popcorn-like noises could be heard from her position, muffled by the distance.

“Yes, Princess. It seems to be heating up quite a bit down to the south.”

“Yes, it does. Hold while I take half our force there to help them. They’ll need it.”

“Princess, we’ve been ordered to stay up here to the north.”

“And there doesn’t appear to be much heat in this area. I’ll be discreet so the Doms don’t notice half of us are gone. I just have this feeling that our friends are about to get their asses kicked.”

Author's Note

Sorry for the lateness. School's catching up with me and I'm really tired. Damn. I've also been playing Kerbal Space Program, launching habitation rings that are too big for aerodynamic fairings and trying to get to the Mun using low tech.

But with all that aside, I had a bit of writer's block (and still kinda do). Since my stories are only planned out in who needs to live and who can die, writer's block just butchers the process because I really have no idea where the story needs to go. Except for Aquarius River and the Final Stand (seen in Homefront flashbacks), which are years down the road for our characters, there is no plan. I'm literally making this up as I go along.

Still, I hope you enjoy this belated update. Feedback appreciated!

26. Brother Against Sister (The Second Battle of Pacifica Part 2)

Platinum fired a bolt from his horn, following up quickly with a round from his repeater. The Domination Army’s troops were closer still, but some of them were going down. It just wasn’t happening fast enough. The Atlanteans were too spread out on this section, but they had no choice. Platinum looked to where Crimson was and saw him pointing to the flag waving in the breeze above the Doms. The Domination Army’s 36th Elites were back for a rematch, and they were headed straight towards Crimson’s right! Platinum grimaced and focused back on shooting. Damn. He really wanted to participate in that rematch, especially since they killed Bats.

Crimson saw the same thing and realized some of the Doms were headed to Janelane’s position. The 36th Elites flag fluttered above them, picking up speed as the march turned into a high-speed charge.

“Focus on those guys to our right and pick ‘em off!” he yelled over the noise of battle. “They’re comin’ for the new guys!”

Janelane glanced around for extra help, but saw none. She aimed downrange and pulled the trigger multiple times. A Dom went down with each bullet, but she was aiming low, only hitting them in the limbs and side - not fatal wounds, but enough to keep them from shooting her. Warrant Janelane had never taken another pony’s life so far, and she hoped to keep it that way.

The Doms reached her position. Janelane whacked one in the face with the butt of her gun, spinning around, twirling the gun to face the barrel away from her, and pulling the trigger without thinking. A beige Dominion pony looked shocked, his single-shot musket held high, as if he was about to strike. He dropped the gun and fell over, muttering something about his lost sister. She knew that voice. It came from her brother, who’d gone to serve in the Domination Army fifteen years ago.

“Metal Meadow? Is that you?” she yelled over the surrounding commotion. She still held her gun for protection, just in case.

“Janelane? Last I heard, you ran away from home.”

It hit her. “Brother… I didn’t realize… no, no!” She threw her helmet off her head and into the dirt. Her redwood mane flowed down over her face, but she moved it back with her hoof. “Meadow, it’s me, Jane. Your sister.”

He lifted his head. “Jane, you got so big.” Then he slumped back down.

Everypony around them had stopped fighting each other, watching the two talk. Some of the Doms recognized the young mare and dropped their weapons in shock.

“Meadow, don’t leave me! Stay!” she cried, shaking his head with her hooves. “Don’t die! Stay with me, Meadow!”

But Meadow simply lie still. His heart stopped beating as his blood slowly poured out onto the ground through the hole Janelane’s bullet had put in him. His breath ran cold.

The first pony Janelane had killed had been her own brother.

Author's Note

Alright, I know, short chapter, but I feel this is a pretty good one. Sometimes you don't need massive amounts of words to tell your story, and this is Janelane's.

Feedback appreciated.

27. Turncoat (The Second Battle of Pacifica Part 3)

Crimson looked at the paused battle to his right. The commotion seemed to have stopped completely, and the previous all-out brawl had halted around a single point near the center of it. He then turned his gaze back to the Doms coming at him, pulling the trigger. A bullet hole appeared in his target’s head and he faceplanted. I really hope Janelane sorts out that mess over there, he thought.

Janelane couldn’t close her eyes. She couldn’t shut out the pain, the horror. Her brother lay before her, lifeless in the gorey slush that used to be a trench. His eyes were still wide open, showing his final moments like a movie on repeat. Her brother’s red-soaked Dominion uniform was drenched in blood.

Janelane cried. It started with a couple tears, but quickly transformed into a waterfall. Her brother was gone and there was nothing she could do about it and she was the one who ended him. It wasn't too fitting for an acting commander, but she didn't give a damn. It was her fault. All her fault.

“Janelane? Where have you been these last fifteen years?” one of the remaining Doms dropped his gun and cocked his head.
Oh, that's right. Janelane remembered that ponies in the Domination Army never saw their families after they joined. It was why she ran away, because, being in a military family, she was likely to be drafted and never see her parents and younger siblings again. She knew Prince Flawless Ice was opposed to this doctrine, and many others his father Jagged Edge enforced, and hoped he would end them when he became king. But that was far in the future. for now, staying here, away from the Dominion, was fine. “I left.” She turned to face him. “I left so that I wouldn't be in Jagged Edge’s damned army. He is a cruel ruler that should be burning in hell after I shove a sword into his flabby chest.”

The mare sighed. “Some of you recognize me; some of you don't. I am Janelane, the bastard daughter of General Cheese Grater. I see your faces. You all joined or were drafted into an army that keeps you from ever coming home. I see Meeky, Swiss-Wings, Stellar ‘Asshole’ Phenomenon. We were friends. We were almost family. If that damned doctrine didn't fucking exist you would leave, right? Settle down. Build a family that doesn't need to fear the loss of their child by the Army draft. If you drop your weapons and join us, we can make that wistful dream a reality.”

Swiss-Wings dropped his musket. “I don't know about you guys, but that seems like pretty good deal to me.” Meeky smiled and mike-dropped his, agreeing with Swiss-Wings in his nonverbal way. Stellar Phenomenon, the one who had asked Janelane where she'd been, sighed rather loudly. “My sister was killed by your Atlantean friends.”

“The past doesn’t matter. What matters is the now, and we can make sure that now is what we want it to be,” Jane replied. “We can do this.”

“I know what you mean, Janelane. It’s just… do we really want to go turncoat? This is serious.” He stood for a couple seconds. “Considering that my sister wouldn’t’ve died if that law didn’t exist, yeah, let’s do it. Fuck that king and all he stands for.”

Jane gestured to the guns. “Then let’s start. Gear up; we’re going in.”

The ponies, both Dom and Atlantean, picked up any guns on the ground. They looked across the field nervously as the flag of the 36th Dominion Elites fell down and stayed down. Behind them was the forest. To their left, Crimson stood fast against the 39th Domination Regiment and impossible 5-to-1 odds. Farther down, Platinum and his boys were doing the same, but with a smaller regiment and better 2-to-1 odds.

Janelane waved her rifle high in the ar and charged towards Crimson. “You wanna prove you’re on our side? Help me save my friends’ asses and maybe you’ll be taken more seriously!” she called.

They followed her sudden gallop, colliding with the 39th Domination’s uncontested flank. It resulted in a smashing that quickly escalated into a rout. The entire attack starting at Janelane’s headlong charge took a total of forty-five minutes before Crimson was shaking his head in disbelief.

“Let me get this straight,” the Warrant said as he stepped over a dead Dom, “you convinced them to switch loyalties. Dom elites. Who hate our guts for the last fight for this town.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I knew most of them growing up. I’ve been here for eight years now, and I saw all of them fifteen years ago. They’re sick and tired of not being allowed to go home. That’s how it is in the Dom Army, and it’s why I’m not on the other side of the field right now. Because I have a score to settle with Jagged Edge. And so do they.”

“I’m not buying it.” Crimson’s jet-black left eyebrow was high over his eye while his right was in an angry position, generating a look of confused skepticism. His frazzled mane definitely needed a day of steam to wring itself back into a straight line and clean out all the dirt it had gathered in the last few months. The crimson coat for which he was named had mostly superficial wounds: nearly-invisible cuts and bluish bruises that looked pretty painful but really weren’t too bad. His wings creaked like an unoiled door hinge after constant use holding his weapon. Some red blood drizzled over his muzzle from a cut just below his eye that Janelane could see would eventually heal into a near-invisible scar.

“Sir, I’m not asking you to believe me. I’m asking you to give them a chance.”

The tired red Pegasus took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “They’ll be under your command. We’re in no position to keep them under guard as prisoners, which I doubt they’ll like anyway, and we’ve lost too many in that last assault. I’ll pull the remaining Atlanteans from your section here to reinforce this area. Given that you’ll have experienced Doms with you, you should be fine. I’ll also shuffle a couple more of our guys around, get Platinum some more troops. Jiminy, I hate sudden events like this.”

“Yes, sir.” Janelane was about to walk away, but remembered to salute. He returned it, adding, “The Colonel will have to know, but that’ll be in my after-battle report.”

She nodded, understanding his meaning. The turncoat Doms under her command had until the end of the day to prove themselves. She turned and hurried to her trench section. “All Atlanteans, pack up and move left to Warrant Dawn. His orders.”

They did so with gusto. As soon as the last one left, a runner from Crimson came up. “Ma’am, Princess Mirage is coming from behind us. She’ll hold the area while you advance quickly to the enemy lines. If you make it alive, support will come in, but we need a rally point on the other side of no-mare’s-land and a route to it that’s safe enough to cross without dying.”

“Tell Warrant Dawn we’ll do what we can.” She whirled around to her peers. “We’re gonna hit those sonsabitches in about ten minutes! Let’s move!”

Author's Note

Not that short, not that sweet, a little late... I call that a win. These Doms are tired of it, and I know it.

The Dominion is a cruel and unusually harsh land, but that's really a reflection of the cruelty of its ruler, King Jagged Edge. If you know King Flawless Ice from Voyages or Homefront, this son of Jagged Edge, Prince Flawless Ice, is that guy. The scientifically-minded King Flawless Ice seen when Celestia finally reaches her destination, that's this Prince here, years before. So, knowing that, you can see the shift and impact Flawless Ice will have on the Dominion when he finally becomes King. That doesn't change the stereotype, though.

Feedback appreciated.

28. Double Whammy (Second Battle of Pacifica Part 4)

Swiss-Wings glanced to Janelane on his right, who was simply focused on the Dom trench ahead. The Pegasus’ light yellow, almost white wings glinted off the sunlight as he flexed them. They also had many holes in them, some from bullets, but most were large, like a Changeling’s. The holes gave Swiss-Wings his name, the result of a rare genetic defect that affected only one in every 3,000,000 Pegasi.

“You ready, brother?” Meeky asked him.

“If you are.”

“To the end.”

Janelane waved her short sword. “Go! Go! Go!”

The turncoat Doms and Atlantean hurried across the field, hopping over dead ponies and skidding on slippery ground. To their credit, they did manage to mostly stay in formation.

The trench area where they hit was lightly defended. Only about three Doms were even close enough to fight, and they were taken out easily. As the place had been held previously by the now-turncoat Doms, they had not expected the attack to happen there. Janelane waved to Crimson as soon as the half-mile stretch was captured. Then, while Swiss-Wings held the line, Meeky and several others began to dig out a tunnel to the Atlantean earthworks, building a safe passage through no-mare’s land.

Platinum saw an opportunity in the disoriented Dominion forces directly across from him and a little to the left. An entire line shift was occurring to counter the breakthrough. He smiled. This would be easy if the Fourth Coastal went with him.

As he was contemplating the action, he noticed that the Fourth had just gone over the earthen mound. They’d already started doing what he was just about to ask them to do. He waved his own ponies on and followed, making a slanted charge line that would crush the Doms on the other side like a giant boulder. When he reached the center of no-mare’s land, he lowered his bayoneted rifle and sped up to stop the Doms. The enemy was countercharging a charge in progress!

Platinum slashed with his now-equipped short sword in a wide arc. His bayoneted gun became a counterbalance in that moment as he mistakenly overreached and its strap hooked around his hind legs. He did faceplant, though, since the gun also tripped him. Then the Atlantean behind him killed the Dom before he could finish Platinum off. The Unicorn stood up and moved on.

Princess Mirage watched as the Second and Fourth Coastal and the turncoat Doms went across the desolate, blood-soaked, stinking field between the two trench lines. She knew her part was just as important as theirs, and that consoled her as she saw the white smoke rise and the din of battle was heard.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. She jerked her head to the right, her pricking ears pinpointing the origin in a matter of seconds. An Atlantean sniper had taken a potshot at a Dominion commander whose pompous uniform was too juicy a target to resist. The pretty new uniform jacket he was wearing erupted in red as blood poured out from a hit to an artery. Even from here, Mirage’s acute Changeling vision could make out all the details. She turned away amidst a hyperactive imagining of it happening next to her.

Her ears pricked again. At the same time, her legs fuzzed with a nervous shiver. Her eyes darted across the line. It was quiet.

Too quiet.

An explosion knocked several ponies around and blew a hole in the mound two dozen feet to her right. She snapped her head around to look and saw an opening to a tunnel. The Dominion had been tunneling under no-mare’s-land. A gruff, fortyish Dominion soldier hopped out into the chaotic line, taking advantage of the situation by immediately attacking the nearest Atlantean. After a brief struggle, he stabbed his foe through the heart, killing him instantly.

He came for Mirage next. The Changeling Princess did the first thing that came to mind: she picked up a gun from a dead pony next to her and pulled the trigger. The soldier’s eyes widened as he glanced down into a growing pool of blood. His shoulders slumped and he fell to the ground dead.

More Dominion soldiers started coming out of the hole. Mirage aimed down the sight this time like she saw Crimson do. She fired, hitting one in the head. Three more trigger pulls and she was out of ammo. She dropped the gun and unsheathed her Changeling morphsteel sword, specifically designed by her mother to suit her, holding it with her magic.

A Dom came at her. He sniffed the air as if he could smell her fear. The Princess’ eyes were wide open as she held him at bay with her sword.

He sneered. “Put it down.”

“I’m not afraid to use this.”

“You’re a rookie. Just put down the sword and let the professionals deal with this.”

Mirage looked past him at the chaotic trench. Everypony was occupied. She had to do this herself.

The Dom swung lazily at her, reading her mind. She dodged and took her own whack at him. He easily parried her strike. His next attack cut a little chip off her wing. As he came again, she charged at him, knocking him on the ground and driving her sword into his side. He grunted in pain, pulling it out as he lifted her over him and tossing her like a rag doll. She hit the trench wall with her side, smashing and crumpling her outstretched left wing as she slid to the bottom.

“Ahh!” Mirage painfully stood up. The Dom was over her now, looking enormously dangerous. She rammed her horn into his face. He screamed, clawing at his destroyed right eye when she pulled her bloodied horn out. He was clearly in pain. Lots of pain. But he wasn’t over yet. He attacked again and she stabbed him in the stomach with a loose nail off a nearby wooden plank. She pulled it out and stabbed again, this time in the chest. His heart stopped, he crumpled to the ground.

Mirage shook. Even at Emberforge, she hadn’t necessarily taken a life with her own hooves. Not like this. She felt sick and vomited all over the corpse of the stallion she just killed. All around her, the Atlanteans had regained control of the situation and pushed the Dominion troops back down their rabbit hole.

The contents of her stomach finally gone, Mirage looked across the field. Atlantean flags were waving above the trench there. It was time to move on to the city itself.

Author's Note

Sorry about the lateness. Life got in the way.

Also, Part 5 should be it for this battle. I still have almost a dozen more years in this war, you know!

Feedback appreciated.

29. Oh, Harmony

Colonel Silvercrest looked up from her papers. She was seated behind a desk in the command tent with Crimson, Platinum, and Mirage in front of her. The three looked nervous.

“You lost more ponies than we can easily replace today. That said, I’ve done the same. Treetop and the other officers are halfway done recovering, so you’ll have them again in a few days. Also, you abandoned your post, Mirage.”

“I’m sorry, Colonel. I thought sending reinforcements to Crimson was the right thing to do.”

“I know the feeling. Luckily, the Doms facing your section of the line had no idea you left. If they’d known, it could have caused a catastrophic breakthrough that would’ve spiraled out of control faster than you could’ve fixed it.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

“My point, Mirage, is that you need to learn some patience. Yes, Crimson needed it. No, you did not need to be the one to assist him. Sarge was ready to go, but then your second-in-command called in to say your intentions. He went there instead.”

Mirage lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

Silvercrest clopped her hooves together in front of her. “I know it won’t. You seem to do best with my regiment, so we’ll put you there with a good chunk of your troops. Your second-in-command will take care of the rest of your normal force. Dismissed, Mirage.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Mirage turned around and walked out.

Silvercrest turned her attention to the remaining two. “Platinum, good job dealing with the loss of our troops when they did that ridiculous charge. All injured are expected a full recovery, thanks to you.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but Crimson should get the credit. He reacted to the disaster quickly enough to allow us to do that.”

“l’m sure it’ll happen somehow. Anything else? If not, then you’re dismissed, Private.”

Platinum walked out of the tent, leaving Crimson to stand alone with the Colonel.

“Warrant Dawn, you’re a damn good soldier and NCO. You’d make a fine officer in a couple years and with a bit more experience.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Crimson’s voice had a nervous edge to it.

Silvercrest paid it no heed. If she noticed at all, she remained cool and collected as she spoke. “You see this map, Crimson?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We are blue. The enemy is red. As you can see, they control the entire city from Factory Road in the south to the marketplace in the north, from city’s edge just across the trenches all the way to the Western Harmony area. Your task is to clear a safe landing zone in the south.”

“May I ask why, ma’am?”

“A new-construction ‘flying frigate’ called Ember. I believe you’ll recognize her hull when she arrives in three days, but she can’t get close enough to land without us taking the Doms out first. Her angle on our position is too far west.”

“They can’t fly her around Pacifica?”

Silvercrest let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s not that simple. A Dom airship is keeping her on course directly into the city by staying just off her port quarter. So she can’t change course without risking total destruction, and her captain won’t let that happen, not on her maiden voyage. That makes it our job to not only give them a clear landing zone on their approach vector, but also take the city just in case. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll do what we can.” Crimson saluted and walked out of the tent, where he was soon greeted by Platinum.

“So, what’re we doing?” he asked.

“You know that big flat area to the south-southwest?”

“Yeah. It’s the main Dom airstrip.”

“We gotta take it.”

Platinum raised his eyebrows. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope,” Crimson grimaced.

Mirage, Crimson, Platinum, Janelane, and Southern Lights were gathered around in a circle. Around them, the Second Coastal, Mirage’s Reserve, and the turncoat Doms had congregated. They all knew that something was about to happen.

Crimson gestured to the ground. “I know this makeshift map is a piece of shit, but deal with it.” South let out a brief burst of laughter in spite of himself. Crimson waited for him to finish before continuing: “Anyway, our orders to take the airfield stand. Platinum, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, sir,” Platinum said. “Crimson and I thought of this last night while all you were sleeping. First, Janelane and her ‘Inside-Out Jackets’ will provide a distraction…”

“Questions?” Platinum asked.

“Yeah. When do we start?” Janelane asked. “My boys and I have a score to settle with their customs.” Her comment garnered some chuckles from Meeky and Swiss-Wings behind her. Stellar Phenomenon remained as stoic as ever.

“Tomorrow. Rest up, all of you.” Crimson locked eyes with each of the NCOs and Princess. “You’ll need it.”

“What about you, Red?” South perked up. He’d practically shut down socially after his twin’s death, and Crimson was glad to see him beginning to move on.

“I’ll check up on Treetop and the other officers,” he replied.

“And try to strike up a conversation with that pretty pink Unicorn,” Platinum teased. Crimson only glared at his friend. “What? I saw the look on your face when we first arrived for AREA. Love at first sight.”

“No, it was not ‘love at first sight,’ Platinum. I just think she’s cute. What’s wrong with that?”

The metallic-coated Unicorn clapped the red Pegasus on the back. “Nothing. Just don’t do anything you’d be ashamed of.”

The group split off, each pony going to their respective destinations.

“Mornin’, Treetop, sir.”

The grass-green Earth pony turned his head to face the NCO. “Warrant Dawn. I trust you took care of our boys out there.”

Crimson nodded. “Yes, sir, I did.”

“Did you submit your game plan for tomorrow to the Colonel?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Bring some of ‘em back home for me.”

“Sir, you can’t expect me to lead an operation of this scale! I don’t have the experience! I never argued against Silvercrest, or tried to doubt myself in front of the others, but I just can’t do this! Treetop, you gotta help me.”

The Lieutenant smiled. “If you kept our boys alive in the trenches so far, you’ll do fine. Remember, if Silvercrest thought you couldn’t handle it, she wouldn’t’ve given you the orders. If you don’t believe in yourself, nopony else will.

“I have had times when I doubted my ability to step up and lead. When I was the only one left who could lead, what did I do? I wanted to run, hide, make somepony else do it for me so that I would not have to do it myself. But with the help of my friends, my colleagues, my peers, I overcame it. I lead because I had to. Now it’s your turn, Crimson.”

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

Nurse Lieutenant Rose Thorn’s leafy green mane and pink face appeared in Crimson’s vision. “Do you need anything, sir?”

“No, ma’am. I was just speaking to Treetop.” Crimson blushed slightly as he nodded and turned to go. “Permission to leave, sir?”

“Go ahead,” Treetop replied. “Kick those Dom asses for me.”

Crimson hurried out of the hospital tent as fast as he safely could.

“Did I do something wrong?” Rose asked.

“No, you didn’t. He likes you.” Treetop’s smile grew. “Why? You return the favor?”

“Kind of. Please don’t tell him,” she squeaked.

“My muzzle is sealed.”

Janelane was up at the crack of dawn. She wolfed down breakfast - a biscuit and some hay - before heading to her post with her troops. When she arrived, a commotion drew her attention to the right section, where her boys ended and Platinum’s began. She raced to it, only to find Platinum and Crimson already there. She turned around but was stopped by the red Pegasus. “Jane, stay here with me. Platinum, get Mirage.”

“Yes, sir.” The Unicorn galloped farther down the line to the Changeling section.

Crimson peered downrange with a spyglass. “Somepony’s coming, just like the picket said. Judging by its build, we’re looking at a mare who just turned fifteen. Earth pony, deep red mane, orange coat. She’s laying low, but I don’t think she’s hiding from us.”

“Why not, sir?” Janelane asked.

“Because we’re her destination.”

“She could just be trying to run, not caring if we see her. Or she could be trying to get close and ‘surprise, mother fucker’ us.”

Crimson gulped. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

The mare eventually reached the Atlantean entrenchments. When she arrived, she was beyond scared. This poor filly was terrified. The first thing she did when she arrived was scream since she’d been found. “Please don’t take me back! I don’t wanna go back!”

Platinum came back with Princess Mirage. The two exchanged glances and stayed in the background. Meanwhile, Crimson tried to comfort the young mare. “I’m not Dominion, kid.”

She looked up. “You’re not?”

“No, my little pony.” He came down to her level, locking his hazel eyes with hers. What he saw in them was… he couldn’t describe it. Beatings, slavery, even repeated rape were among the most frequent horrors reflected through her dilated eyes. “Crimson Dawn, Second Coastal.”

Realization clicked in. She bawled and wrapped her hooves around his neck. He looked up at his comrades as her tears and muffled cries soaked into his fur. They all had the same emotion painted on their faces: anger. They could see the mare had survived and escaped a Dominion-occupied city.

“Kid, what’s your name?” Jane asked.

“I don’t have one. They took it from me.” She showed them a brand seared on her flank. It covered her intricate, phoenix cutie mark. “They only referred to me as Dark Phoenix.”

“But can you remember?”

“Mother called me Phoenix Brightwings. But it doesn’t matter anymore. She died three months ago after she refused to bed a soldier. They took me as after-death payment.”

“Oh, Harmony.” Platinum said. His uncharacteristic invocation of the deity proved just how shockingly horrifying their enemy could truly be. “Oh, Harmony.”

They looked at Mirage. “What are you lookin’ at? I got nothin’.”

Crimson leaned his head into the mare’s ear. “Don’t you worry, Phoenix Brightwings. You’re safe now.”

She nodded, her cold tears and reddened eyes rubbing off on the Pegasus.

Author's Note

Yeah, I didn’t do the battle yet. But I did get a comment about what was exactly meant by the Dominion’s enslavement of the Pacifica population, so I decided to explain as part of the story even though I’d already replied to said comment. And this is the result.

I’ve gotten another story altogether brewing up here, another part of this story universe. I thought, who is the Nightmane family? Yeah, sure, the Summercrest harbormaster and his ponies, but there’s so much to explore with this train of thought. So I’m starting a story called Nightmane. It’s about Bats’ ancestor Constellation Nightmane, who lived during the time of Luna’s banishment.

As always, feedback and/or criticism is appreciated!

31. Ember Arrives

Silvercrest glanced up from her papers. “Is there a reason you’re here, Warrant Dawn? I believe a runner informed me of your victory.”

“Yes. But before I begin, where is Phoenix Brightwings?”

“She is currently in Medical, where they are doing their best to repair any damage the Doms have done to her.”

Crimson nodded, relieved Phoenix wasn’t nearby. “I need to apologize, Colonel.”

“For what?”

“Out on the field, when we were on the offensive, I… I lost it.” Crimson looked down at his hooves.

“Battlefield rage?” Her left eyebrow raised.

“Yes, ma’am,” he gulped.

“I knew this would happen,” she said. “Crimson, battlefield rage is perfectly normal. And the worry and regret that sometimes follows is too. I myself was denied a promotion six years ago because I let loose while defending the eastern coast from the Corsairs of Korea. I ended up killing one of them with my bare hooves.” She grimaced. “I still regret that day.”

“Ma’am, I almost smashed somepony’s skull in. He was on the ground, begging for mercy. I was on top of him, beating the ever-living shit out of him. If Mirage hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve killed him and then moved on to the next guy.”

“Oh, that kind of battle rage.” Silvercrest shuffled her papers and adjusted her position in her chair. “I see. Crimson, that’s a level of battlefield rage that is fairly uncommon in ponies. Typically, only dragons or griffons will exhibit this, and even then, they don’t do it often. My advice to you would be to check up on the Dom you nearly killed. Make sure he’ll be alright. Apologize to him and let him know how much you regret what you did. Maybe he’ll forgive you in due time. Maybe he won’t. But at least you’ll have given it a shot.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He turned to leave.

“And Crimson?” He stopped and looked at her. “We don’t appreciate that kind of battle rage too much, so I still need to discipline you. We’ll give the other pony some compensation from out of your paycheck. This month’s worth. Understood?”

“Understood, ma’am.” He threw a salute and walked out of the tent.

A few hours later.

Crimson, Mirage, Janelane, Platinum, and Southern Lights watched the airship come in. It was obviously converted from a Fireheart-class corvette’s hull design to accommodate the large hovergas-filled balloon that held it up. On either side of the bow was a single word: Ember.

“Wait,” Platinum cried, “is that the same Ember from home?”

The airship coasted closer with each passing minute, filling the ballast tanks to bring her down. She touched the flat plain with a wince-inducing crunch and settled, the shallow impact crater keeping her upright. The starboard door and boarding ramp swung out to let supplies offload. The first pony to disembark was familiar.

“Crimson!” She immediately recognized her older brother and flew into him faster than the eye could see. A reflective prismatic trail marked where Crystal Shard had been.

“Hey, girl! Jeez, you’ve grown!” Crimson wrapped his sister in a headlock and rubbed her mane playfully. “I haven’t seen you in months!”

Platinum bounded over and tackled Crystal. “Surprise, little mare!” All three rolled over on the ground and laughed. It had been a long time since they could have fun like this.

Mirage giggled, but stood back. Then Crimson finally got back on his hooves. “Crystal, this is Mirage. She’s the Changeling Princess I told you about. Southern Lights is right there, and beside him is Janelane. And well, we’re the Second Coastal.” Each pony waved as he pointed them out.

South pointed his eyes to the airship. “What do you have for us?”

Crystal beamed. “In the main hold we have food, updated medical supplies, the works. Plenty of letters from home. And, before I forget-” she pulled a box from her saddlebag- “Crimson, Mom made you a sandwich. Sorry if it’s a bit stale; the journey was a bit long.”

“It’s perfect.” Crimson opened the box and munched on the sandwich. “Changeling-style grilled cheese. Oh my goodness.” He closed his eyes, taking in the delicious sandwich.

Mirage raised an eyebrow in concerned confusion. “Changeling-style?”

“The cheese has holes in it,” Crystal swiftly explained.

“Oh.” Mirage looked bewildered. “Alright then.”

Crystal gestured to the airship. “Ember is - or rather, was - one of those hulls in the yard for so long. We just got around to finishing all three: Ember here, then Cape Lune and Dragonheart. The metal ship is really freaking awesomesauce because it took on an entire Dom fleet by itself! I mean, come on! That was, like, two hundred ships it just sent to the bottom! And one of our guys got one of its flying machines to work, and-”

“We get it, a lot happened.” Platinum chuckled. “A lot of exciting things, apparently.”

Crimson’s face turned serious. “How’s Mom and Dad?”

“Worried about you, like usual,” Crystal replied. “Mom wants you to come home in one piece. Dad…” She trailed off. “He’s not doing well.”

“He sick again?”

She nodded sadly.

“Don’t worry about Dad. He’s had worse, remember?” Crimson looked past his sister at the airship. The familiar lines of the incomplete corvette in the yards showed through the conversion. He walked to it and pressed his hoof on the wood. It was firm but gave a little, just like the “swamp oak” trees back home. Doors cut into the wood showed where the cannons hid inside the hull. A larger one for cargo was swung open in the side. “Oh, I missed you too, old girl,” he whispered into the wood. “At least you can’t fuck up as bad as me.”

He walked back to the group. “Crystal, when you and Ember go back home, tell Mom and Dad that I love them. Tell them that we can win this. Just hang in there.”

His sister nodded. “They’ll like that. You know, when I’m old enough, I’m joining the army!”

Oh, no. “Crystal, it’s hard enough with me here. Don’t make it worse for Mom.”

“But I have to wait five years,” she pouted.

“Considering what we’ve seen,” Crimson said, glancing at his comrades, “that’s probably for the best.”

Author's Note

Finally, I have finished another chapter! Slow goings right now, with all that's happening: moving, reorganizing my shtuff, and things like that. Hopefully, I don't run out of steam on this story. A bit of severe-ish writer's block hit me full force a few weeks ago and... well, lingering effects.

Remember, I'm here to answer questions and clarify anything about the story almost every day.

Feedback Appreciated!

32. A Prince's Folly

Prince Flawless Ice of the Dominion walked up to the throne. He had a shining white coat, kept pristine by the finest caretakers his father could offer. His icy blue mane and tail were straight, as was his personal style. The dragon-slit turquoise eyes of his, courtesy of his mother’s descent from the Dawncrusher thestral line, darted from side to side nervously. “Father, why are we even concerned about the Atlantean industrial capacity? They’ve clearly shown in Pacifica that it isn’t actually that much compared to ours, despite its importance to their war machine.”

King Jagged Edge looked down from his perch, over the bulk that was his fat stomach, and into his son’s eyes. Even with all that girth, he still had a steely blood-curdling glare that practically paralyzed anypony he focused on. Flawless Ice was no exception to this, and he practically melted under the king’s gaze.

“We will destroy their industry so that Atlantis will fall, their unsupplied army out of everything it has and starving. Once it does, they will gladly come to us again in need. We will of course accept out of the generosity in our hearts and then execute their fake Queen Atlanta to prevent any and all rebellion. This will be my legacy for you to continue. We discussed this before.”

“I know, Father, believe me. I know. But-”

“THERE IS NO ‘BUT’S’! I DO NOT WISH TO HEAR THAT WORD COME FROM YOUR MUZZLE AGAIN!” Jagged Edge roared. As he did o, he stood on his surprisingly strong legs and towered over his son. The guards around him fled to escape the wrath he was likely to incur on everyone in the room. Despite this, Flawless Ice stood fast and braced himself. The king continued: “Do I make myself clear, son?”

The prince gulped. “Yes, Father. I understand and serve.”

“Good.” The hideously fat king sat back down and waved his hoof in a dismissive gesture. “You may leave. Go play with your friend Mr. Legacy and stay out of the way.”

“Thank you, Father.” Flawless Ice bowed, then turned and walked out the side door to the grandeur of a dining hall. Trotting quickly through the massive double oak doors, he bumped into his childhood friend Lost Legacy.

The mid-shadow grey Unicorn was a scientist at heart. His mane and tail were dyed from their usual black to a lighter, but still dark grey shade, and his shadowy eyes reflected a sad, lost soul in search of home. That reflection had given him his name; otherwise, he would’ve been named Greymane. He typically had some aroma around him that consisted of stone dust and rotting wood, but that was because he was the guinea pig for his own personal experiment about smells and bug attraction.

“Good morning, Icy,” Lost said cheerfully. “Last night was so cool; too bad you weren’t there. We were looking through our telescopes up in the tree and we saw something so freaking amazing!”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know. But I do know it crossed the entire sky at high speed. Then, an hour and a half later, it was back! We got a good look at it once we realized that, and saw some pretty neat stuff. Plus, the metal-stick-with-a-talking-box we made made some noises like it was communicating to the sky thing!”

“You do realize I got that talking box smuggled here from Atlantis, right? Keep quiet or my father will take it and use it for the war, which we both know he won’t win anytime soon. Even then, he’ll probably lose. I was with one of the artillery divisions on the Emberforge bluffs, so I wouldn’t get shot at, and the Atlanteans were… honorable, to say the least. I saw as their army was destroyed and run back farther and farther, but they put up a fight like nothing I’ve ever seen. I came back the next day, for fear of discovery, and I’m glad I did, because our guys were annihilated a few days later by a Changeling force.”

“You never told me that.”

Flawless smirked. “I don’t tell you everything.” He gestured to the end of the dining hall, which led to the garden where their group of friends hung out. “Shall we?”

When they opened the doors and welcomed the cool, fresh mountain air, they were greeted by Lost Legacy’s ragtag bunch of guard’s sons. The colts, not much older than the prince himself, goofily saluted as the two walked into the garden.

The garden looked much bigger on the inside. Four massive trees not native to the area towered almost as high as the guard post across the way. Flawless had imported them from Equestria’s northern climate, hoping that they would already be slightly accustomed to the mountain chill in which they would live. Considering that the trees were already seven times as tall as their Equestrian cousins and just about done growing, he was certainly impressed. Their green leaves and tangle of branches provided the perfect camouflage for the fairly large treehouse, which topped the tallest of the four trees. Above the explosion of plant material, the sun stared down from the blue, cloudless sky.

The prince gazed past his friends at the six-foot-thick solid obsidian walls that surrounded the palace. Or at least, that was the impression. Other, more resistant rocks such as granite lay behind six inches of obsidian. The granite did not make up the center of the wall, however, which was a solid foot-thick wall of plate iron, mashed together by gravity and granite. Wooden logs braced the inner section and provided convenient places for stairs every fifty feet. Even though he knew what was really inside the formidable-looking wall, he was impressed by the fact. It, along with the rest of Buckingham palace, had been built by his forefathers and maintained for as long as the Dominion existed, which was a very, very long time. Obsidian, granite, and iron all were rare, expensive materials to build something of this scale from, especially back then, and the speed at which Buckingham had been completed - just under ten years! Celestia and her fancy capital Canterlot could never compete with that logistical and engineering feat.

Flawless, Lost, and their four friends climbed up the long ladder to their treehouse. Once they reached the top, the prince once again reflected on the six months he spent building it with his friends. Those had been long but satisfying, as he now had complete three-hundred-sixty-degree unobstructed view of the world, at least on the fenced roof, around him. They were still working on furnishings for the place, but they had to build all that from scratch up there. Right now, two high-tech stargazing telescopes and four observation spyglasses lined the bright oak fence posts up top. A couple couches and chairs sat scattered around the large center room. Off to the side was a bedchamber with three bunk beds for six ponies.

“So, Lost,” the prince said, “can you explain last night’s discovery more?”

“Yes.” Lost searched his mind for a second. “It had these two wide things on either end, like giant plates. The whole thing seemed pretty flimsy, like it wasn’t supposed to fly through air, but it went across the sky practically effortlessly. And modules. It looked like it was modular. That’s about all I could make of it. But think of it! Something as big as that thing, because it had to be really far away, built from little chunks! The technology would be astounding!”

“I agree on the part where it’s astounding,” Flawless replied. “If Father hadn’t started this stupid war, we’d be trying to get to it right now, or maybe trying to decipher what it sent to the talking box. Which, by the way, we can do. So start figuring it out before the guards down there realize we have one.”

“Exactly how did you get it from Atlantis again?”

“Smuggler.”

Lost burst out laughing. “You smuggled that in? I’m pretty sure the government is supposed to be against that kind of thing!”

The prince raised a sky-blue eyebrow. “I’m serious. That’s what the thing three months ago when I had you cover for me all night was.”

“Ah. I see. So, what does it do?”

“I don’t know. The smuggler said it picks up some kind of signal from other talking boxes. You just need to be in range to hear the other end.”

Lost looked up at the sky. “Judging by last night, that’s gotta be some range.”

“I agree. But that was probably line-of-sight, so it already could hear it. Remember, the world is curved. That means that what we can hear is obviously not going to be far if it only does line-of-sight communications.”

“Still, something to be reckoned with.”

The talking box started beeping, signaling that some kind of transmission was reaching it. Both Lost and Flawless immediately turned to the noise. When he realized what it was, Lost raced to it and listened. “Dot dash dash dot, dot dash dot, dot dot, dash dot, dash dot dash dot, dot [PRINCE]. Dot dot dash dot, dot dash dot dot, dot dash, dot dash dash, dot dash dot dot, dot, dot dot dot, dot dot dot [FLAWLESS]. Dot dot, dash dot dash dot, dot [ICE]. Dash dot dot, dash dash dash [DO]. Dash dot dash dash, dash dash dash, dot dot dash [YOU]. Dash dot dash dot, dash dash dash, dot dash dash dot, dash dot dash dash [COPY]. Dot dot dash dash dot dot [?],” he said as he wrote it down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Flawless pulled a piece of paper out of his saddlebag. “Use this to translate it.”

Lost raised an eyebrow of his own. “Sure.” after a few minutes, he had it. “Prince Flawless Ice, do you copy?”

The prince nodded. “Use the paper to send acknowledgement.”

“Are we about to betray our own country by giving information to the enemy?”

“No, we won’t betray the Dominion. The first part of the King’s Oath says that he must do what he can to protect the lives of his citizens, and to not waste them in senseless wars. My father hasn’t been too keen on following through with that of late, so I’m going to do it for him.”

“We’re giving information to the enemy.”

Flawless sighed. “Yes.” He shrugged. “But by doing this, we may get more ponies to come home by convincing my father through strategic losses that he can’t win, and he may give up trying to conquer Atlantis.”

Lost shoved away from the desk. “I will follow you to the end of time because you’re my friend, but the only thing this crazy idea will accomplish is us dancing the gallows.”

“Trust me.”

Lost looked at their friends. Eying each of them, he said, “what happens here will not leave this room. Understood?”

“Yes, Lost!” they chorused. “Prince, do you agree with this?”

“Yes. you will not say any of what comes through this talking box to anypony. Ever.”

“Yes, sir!”

Lost turned back to the talking box. As he wrote the acknowledgement message on a piece of paper, he said, “Dot dot. Dash dot dash dot…”

Author's Note

Hey, starting to come back from the problems of long stories! Or maybe not... I really just got back to doing this again. Anyway, I thought I could bring up Flawless Ice from Voyages, since he was supposed to have been alive during this time as well, just younger.

This should also explain some strategic decisions Queen Atlanta may or may not make in the future. I think I'll skip a couple months between this chapter and the next (in the story) so I can get Year 2 going. Wow. already that far? Jeez, I've got some things to do!

Feedback is appreciated!

33. New Arrivals In Town

Captain Middle Road looked to the south as a large battle group sailed into the harbor. It consisted of four Artemis frigates, six Fireheart corvettes, and two Mermaid “battlewagons.” It was more Atlantean ships in one place than she’d ever seen. Judging by the state of disrepair all twelve ships displayed, they’d been on the high seas for at least a year. A couple had fires blazing on decks, and they most likely hoped to get the yard’s fireponies to help put them out. It must have been a terrible battle they faced at the end in order to be in this condition.

As they approached, one of Artemis frigates bulged for a split second, then exploded in a massive fireball. The glowing orange cloud billowed upward, carried by its own heat. Splinters flew everywhere, impacting the sides of the surrounding ships and hammering the dockyard less than a third of a mile away. The heat wave slammed into Captain Road as she shielded her eyes from the bright flash, but it wasn’t enough to carry her with it.

Anypony who survived the explosion immediately dove overboard into the cold, frothy water as dinghies cruised out to to rescue them. Those pulled from the bay were wrapped in blankets or spare canvas. Middle Road knew that Harbormaster Nightmane would be proud of the quick-acting team he’d put together for events just like this, where a ship sunk in the bay and they had no way to shore.
Meanwhile, as the survivors were rescued and the rest of the fleet slowed to a crawl as they reached the docks, the Captain hurried to meet the flagship’s commander.

“Who is the military commander here?” a simply-dressed admiral asked Mr. Nightmane.

“Captain Road, sir. She should be here soon,” he replied.

The tan Unicorn bounded down the pier from land. The harbormaster noticed her long drags for air, and realized she’d been in Town Square, two miles to the north. “Here she is, sir.”

“Thank you, Harbormaster.” The navy-blue Earth pony turned his gaze to the Captain as she hurried. When she arrived and saluted, he returned it and smiled. “Captain Road.”

She gulped nervously. “Admiral Mariner. Or should I say Commodore?”

“Please, Captain, call me Bio. My crew created that name for me, and I quite like it.”

“Of course, sir. What brings you here to Summercrest?”

The admiral sighed. His military-cut aquamarine mane and tail swished slowly, and his azure eyes locked on hers. “Captain, if you would come aboard my ship to the wardroom, where we can discuss this matter away from civilian ears.”

“Sir, Mr. Nightmane should be allowed to go. He can keep a secret.”

“He is a civilian. This is for military eyes and ears only.”

“Mr. Nightmane is coordinating the restoration of an iron cruiser. In other words, he is in charge of the Summercrest Project. If this concerns me, it concerns him.”

Bio rolled his eyes. “Fine. But he will not speak of what he sees or hears without my explicit permission.”

“I understand, sir,” Nightmane said.

Soon, Bio, Captain Middle Road, Harbormaster Nightmane, and the other captains in the fleet were gathered in the wardroom of the admiral’s flagship, Golden Sunrise. Each of the newcomers knew the current situation, but they also knew that Middle Road and Nightmane had to be brought up to speed. They let the admiral do the talking.

Bio planted a navy-blue hoof on the map. “We are here.” He dragged his hoof along the map until he reached a small island in the middle of the Celestial Sea. “The Doms have a base here, judging by the concentration of enemy forces gathered around it. They have frigates, ships of the line, corvettes, everything. Now, I’d normally not be concerned with the fact that a bunch of Doms are in the middle of the ocean, but…” he pointed at the major city nearest the island.

“Nautinia.” Middle Road breathed.

“Exactly. The route I took to return from my deep-sea patrol this past year brought me to within six nautical miles of the place. What I sailed in with today is all that came out.”

“Except one of your ships exploded.” Nightmane pointed out.

“Firestorm had been ablaze for the last several days. Her captain told me he could control it. All of my captains said they could control the unending fires aboard their ships. Right before Firestorm blew, I saw her deck cave in. That means her deck was weakened enough by the fire that it just fell apart and land on her magazine. Until then, we were sure she’d make it. It’s sad, really. They were so close, but were lost before they could make it. Captain Winterfoal was a good stallion.”

Mr. Nightmane perked up at that name. “Winterfoal? Was he a thestral?”

“Yes.” Admiral Mariner said simply. “Why?”

“They’re good friends of my family.”

“I’m sorry you had to learn this way.”

“It’s alright. Captain Winterfoal was bound to go soon anyway.”

“That he was,” Bio agreed. “But back to business. A Fireheart corvette we passed on our way here told us that there was an airship here?”

“Yes, there was,” Middle Road answered, “but we sent it to carry stuff to the Second Coastal in Pacifica. All lot of their guys came from here.” A question popped in her mind. “Why did you come here when you could’ve went on to a city closer to Nautinia?”

“Because they chased us all the way to this point, about seventy miles south of Cape Lune,” he replied, illustrating with his hoof on the map. “By then, our weak, tired old ships obviously weren’t the trouble, time, and resources needed to chase us and finish us off. During that chase, we lost the battlewagon Lowest Common Denominator, the frigates Unrepentant Camper and Green Gelatin, the corvettes Buck Off, Comfort Is For Wimps, and Whales Aren’t Big Enough, and all their crews. May they rest in peace,” he said, taking off his three-pointed hat. The others, who hadn’t had hats, briefly bowed their heads in respect for those who’d been lost.

“We had ships with those names?”

“No,” Bio explained, “but our fleet had been together so long and had been through so much during this deployment that we had made nicknames for our ships. I let them go crazy with it, and ended up with less pressure in the kettle. Anyway, with where we were, this was our last gamble. We were actually worried that the Doms had taken this place.”

“They could have, multiple times,” Middle Road said. “But the power behind the Indianapolis just beat the stuffing out them. With that iron cruiser, we can shoot at them from miles away and still hit! She also has this thing called “ray-darr,” which can see enemies, even over the horizon! Plus, Mr. Seagull was able to repair one of the cruiser’s flying machines, which we sadly have extremely limited fuel for, and our scouting ability has increased greatly. No Dom ship has come within at least twenty miles of Summercrest for the past year.”

“You said the flying machine has a limited amount of fuel?” a captain asked.

“Yes, so we limit its flight time while we try to make more. Mr. Seagull meticulously goes over it every day so it can get airborne.”

“Could it be possible that Dom ships have gone by during the time your machine is on the ground?”

“Not within that range, because the “ray-darr” can see enemies up to thirty miles away, though I’ve noticed Dom battlewagons are seen at closer to about twenty. On days we send out the flying machine, called a plane, that range is more like a hundred.”

“Why aren’t your Fireheart corvettes deployed? You could use those.”

“They are deployed, sir.” Middle Road sighed. “My ships Sundering Sea, Cape Lune, and Dragonheart, are currently near the Cape Lune sandbar trying to recover Neptune from the sea. Tie Dye, my exec, thought of it, so I told her to give it a shot.”

“The best way to honor a ship that’s been lost is to leave it be, to let it rest on the ocean floor.”

“Neptune’s mainmast is sticking out of the water. That means the depth is shallow enough for divers. If my ponies can’t recover the ship, by Harmony, we’ll at least get her armament and bury anypony we find down there. So far, all the main guns have been recovered and her armory is being scavenged. Her strong box copy of the log and ship’s plate were brought up this morning. I’m in charge of this area, and I was in charge of that ship. I will do anything in my power to bring her back to the best of my ability.”

Bio raised an eyebrow. “No offense, Captain Road, but I am the highest-ranking naval officer here. However, I will not interfere with your salvage operation as long as what I need done is complete.”

“And you need to tell Nautinia about the Dom fleet poised to strike the coast.”

“Yes.”

“What was the fleet composition, to the best of your knowledge?” Nightmane asked. He’d started to become forgotten, and his question brought him back to everypony’s attention. “We’ll need to send that information as well,” he explained.

“Four prison frigates, forty-three battlewagons, seventy floating batteries, fifty logistics vessels, sixty standard frigates, ninety corvettes, and three hundred gunboats.”

Middle Road’s eyes widened. “With that, they could strike anywhere, anytime, and in more than one place at once.” She looked back at the map. “As that reference sheet found in Indianapolis’ log would say, we’re more than FUMTU’d. We’re FUBAR’d.”

“FUBAR’d?”

“Screwed Up Beyond All Recognition, sir.”

Author's Note

I don't have much to say.

Feedback appreciated!

34. Blast From The... 16-Inch Gun Barrel

Middle Road gestured to a point on the map in front of her. She, Harbormaster Nightmane, and Summercrest governor Physics Psych (Crimson’s father) were gathered around the dining table in Mr. Psych’s family residence, where a high-quality map of the Atlantean southern coastline and the Celestial Sea out to thirteen hundred miles away from shore was spread across the hardwood. “Admiral Mariner said for me not to tell you this, Governor. In fact, it was his explicit orders. But I believe that, in order for us to coordinate a successful attack on the enemy fleet at this location, we need the logistical support you control.”

“What kind of fleet are we talking about?” The governor wore on his face a predatory grin.

“It’s big,” Nightmane said. “Six hundred plus ships, but fifty of them are logistics. No doubt capable of defending themselves,” he hastily added, “and plenty dangerous. However, the fact still stands. Also, there’s four prison ships, as if they plan on taking prisoners from either four separate cities, or they’ll make a big push at Nautinia to take the Queen, transporting her in one of them. We wouldn’t know which one, because there’s four, and they’ll get away.”

Physics Psych glanced at the map, at Captain Road, and back at the map. He let out a long, tired, anxious sigh. “What do you need me to do?”

“Don’t let the admiral think we’re on to him. We never had an Admiral Mariner, but I didn’t realize that until I was in his ship. By that time, all I could do was play along. I also threw a mislead of my own.”

Nightmane grinned. “You never told him about Lavender Blue Sea.”

“No, I didn’t. Captain Crabwalker may be a bad date, but he’s good at his job. I sent a ray-dee-oh transmission to him, since we repaired and got him the one from Neptune, and told him to scout the area Mr. Mariner mentioned. I also told him to turn tail and run as soon as he found the fleet, if it’s there. Considering that this could be just a diversion, it may not even exist, though I don’t doubt the Dom naval capacity. His daily report should come in about… now,” she said as the ray-dee-oh operator saluted at the door and walked over.

He gave it to her. She greedily read the message, but stopped at a certain point, wide-eyed.

Captain Middle Road’s Eyes Only

CPTN Road: Discuss at Discretion

DAY: 16 MAY 985

LOCATION: CELESTIAL SEA

OPERATION FISH HERD

NOTES: We ran into a Dom vessel today. Not much, just a gunboat. About one day from target area. Expect more Dom ships soon. Gunboats can’t go too far from shore without support.

Middle Road looked at the two stallions in front of her. “I think this confirms it. They’ve got a gunboat out there.” She turned to the operator. “Relay this message to Double NC, and ask if the Queen could spare a minute to assess the situation here through a communications spell.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He scurried back to the ray-dee-oh and began tapping.

Queen Atlanta, ruler of Atlantis, covered her eyes with her hoof in annoyance. She took a deep breath and moved her hoof away. Her ocean-blue coat was streaked with dirt and grime, and deep purple semicircles showed under her turquoise eyes as if she hadn’t slept nearly enough these last few weeks.

Which she hadn’t. For seven weeks straight, a large Dom force had been hammering Fort Azure on the western shore and Fort Lazuli on the east. She knew that they must’ve gotten around the Summercrest net, which was understandable considering the small town’s supplies were… limited, to say the least. But what she couldn’t understand was why the nearest Atlantean ships weren’t coming to her aid. The two forts were running out of ammunition, and the scattered hulks of sunken Dominion warships littered the harbor. In fact, so much was the enemy’s desperation that they’d landed several thousand warriors in her own dockyard! These troops immediately began to spread chaos and destroy hundreds of homes, already costing millions in property damage. Atlanta suspected other horrible atrocities were committed by the soldiers rampaging unchecked, with only twenty law enforcement groups of about six ponies each keeping control of a couple multi-story buildings throughout the city.

Atlanta had declared an extreme emergency and evacuated as many civilians as she could to her palace, which was more practically built than other rulers preferred. With its defensive Tampa Guard using breech-loading rifles, nine strategically placed gun emplacements, and walls built to withstand multiple large detonations, the place was virtually impregnable. Atlanta had dotting her walls seven thousand of her elite Tampa Guard, there to protect the innocents and government behind them. Any less, and the Doms would already be swarming. As it was, her numbers here kept them away… for now. Even her Tampa Guard would be no match for the multitudes of enemies in the city - fourteen thousand Atlantean lives had already been lost that way.

The palace ray-dee-oh operator burst in holding a piece of paper. Atlanta took it with an acknowledging nod and read. When she saw that Summercrest requested a minute or two from her, she sighed. At least it couldn’t be as bad as this, right?

An hour later, when everything was ready on both ends, Atlanta cast a communications spell to speak with her ponies.

“Please tell me this is good news,” she said wearily.

“My Queen,” answered Captain Road, “I’m afraid it’s the opposite. Lavender Blue Sea found some Dom gunboats pretty close to the coastline, way past our net.”

“Leaving the battle here, no doubt.” When she saw the puzzled look on the captain’s face, the alicorn explained. “We’ve been under siege here for over two months now. Last month’s victory at Pacifica was wonderful - we definitely needed it - but it is hard to continue hoping.”

“By Harmony,” Middle Road said. “An admiral came here in friendly-looking ships, but he definitely was Dom when I came inside his wardroom. The only problem is, all I can do about it is have him keep his people aboard his ships at all times.”

“Do what you can to either find out whose side he’s truly on… and destroy him if need be. Those are your orders. You must call in your ships and bring this admiral… What did he call himself?”

“Admiral Mariner, ma’am. He told us to call him Bio.”

“As in Biological.” Atlanta’s tired eyes suddenly opened wider than the ocean was wide. “Get him out of Summercrest. He’s been developing killer weapons for years under Jagged Edge. The thing is, he loves it. I amend your orders. Do not give him the benefit of the doubt. He and his research is a danger to all of ponykind. Destroy him as soon as you can at all costs. Do you understand, Captain?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If you can remove him and his fleet before he does anything insane, get anything you can over here. I’m not sure how much longer we can last.”

“We’ll do what we can, ma’am.” Middle Road solemnly replied. Then Atlanta ended her spell and her image disintegrated.

The Queen sighed. If only she could get reinforcements right now, that would be helpful. Or maybe some good news. She wouldn’t mind some of that either. Reflecting back on her… rather drunk youth, it was a wonder she’d beaten the corrupt king eleven years ago. Four years before that, she’d stopped going to bars late at night, going home with some drunk stallion. But that king was practically no match for her angry rebels. The Doms, on the other hoof… They were as angry as her ponies, and even more professional. This was the challenge she faced. And she wanted out so damn bad. But if she faltered, so would her troops, and there goes the independence from the Dominion the ponies of Atlantis had enjoyed for three hundred years.

Somepony brought her coffee. She nodded gratefully and took a tentative sip, feeling the hot liquid trickle down her esophagus and rejuvenate her tired nerves. Even if Army rations were all they had left in this damaged holdout of a palace, at least the cooks still made decent coffee.

Artillery was loud. It sent waves of overpressured air into her hurting ears. It deafened the poor, brave ponies who fired it. But it kept the Doms from getting too close. Of course, the Doms were pretty close to shuttling a load of guns onto shore, and then it was game over. Atlanta would have no choice other than to surrender, if the lives of those she ruled over had any impact on her decision-making process. She only had to hope…

Middle Road called for a group meeting for all Atlantean officers in Summercrest, with the captains of all her deployed ships using spells to attend even though they were who-knows-where. Tie Dye reported first: “We’re about to begin raising Neptune’s hull. All other artifacts have been recovered, and all sixteen uncovered bodies have been identified and are currently being embalmed so their respective families can bury them later.”

“Understood. Crabwalker, what do you have for us?” the tan Unicorn asked.

“We’ve received your message about Nautinia, and we are currently headed to Haven Cove to recruit the defense force there. We’ll arrive tomorrow morning, and hopefully be back in Nautinia by week’s end, if you’ll pass that on to the Queen.”

“I will. Ensign?” Captain Road called to an attending junior officer as she scribbled on a piece of paper. “Take this to the ray-dee-oh, if you will.” He saluted briefly, then took the paper and galloped off. “Alright then. So Crabwalker can’t come here. XO, how many ships can you spare?”

“None, I’m afraid,” Tie Dye replied. “I have Dragonheart carrying all the artifacts, which is making her quite top-heavy, and Cape Lune and Sundering Sea are both needed to lift Neptune from the bottom.”

“I see.” Middle Road rubbed her brown mane. “Indy can probably blast all their ships at once if we aim right, using both her primary and secondary armaments. The problem will be doing that without them noticing.”

“Ember’s due to come back from AREA tomorrow,” Nightmane said thoughtfully. “We could use her as a distraction.”

“That leaves very little time to get going. And we may just have to do this tonight. Remember, the Queen told us to do it at all costs, and as soon as possible. If we keep all lights on the cruiser and harbor from shining on the guns, or preferably the entire ship, we can aim in the dark, using their own ship’s lights against them. We’ll say that our light emitters need to be checked or replaced, so we’ve turned them off to keep ourselves from being electrocuted.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Tie Dye said.

“That’s enough planning for me,” Nightmane said. “Let’s get cracking already!”

Nightmane stood on Indianapolis’s Bridge with a trusted pony on the gun platform forward. The pony was quietly relaying instructions to four others, who then turned the guns. It was clanky and noisy as hell, especially since the night was otherwise silent, but it had to be done. Nightmane walked out to the port bridge wing and stared up at the silver moon above, the “Mare in the Moon” watching his every move. He knew that at least somepony would see his revenge if there was in fact anypony there. The Doms had killed his son. Now it was payback time.

Middle Road was down in the yard, explaining to Admiral Mariner why the lights were out. For now, he was content with her explanation, but also wanted a reason for the noise. His ponies wouldn’t be able to sleep through all the racket. She had a reply prepared: “If you want this ship ready to sail at any time, you’ll let this slide.” He reluctantly sighed and left.

“Nightmane, how much longer?” she called up after Mariner was out of earshot.

“Let me check.” He asked the pony directing the guns the same question, and he gave his answer. Nightmane looked at the Unicorn. “Just fine-tuning the solutions, Captain.”

“You have five minutes before he comes back with a lantern squad.”

“Got it.” Nightmane looked at the pony on the platform. “Five minutes, Gunno!”

“Understood!” came the hushed reply. Two minutes later, he called up: “solutions match, sir! Ready to fire when you are!”

“Captain Road?”

“Go ahead, Mr. Nightmane,” she said. She looked to where the Dom fleet was anchored, a few dozen feet from the harbor on the other side of the bay. All civilians had already been evacuated from the area, so nopony but Doms would bleed tonight.

Nightmane gave the order. “All guns trained on the enemy, fire!”

Nearly a dozen fireballs blossomed from the gun barrels as they spat their rounds into the cool night air. The projectiles streaked across the black bay water and slammed into the eleven Dom vessels rocking gently on the waves. Each projectile was one of the few high-explosive rounds they had left, and they were no duds. They exploded against the wooden hulls with orange balls of fire that lit the night sky. And wooden hulls are no match for HE rounds. The ships all went sky-high as their guts were spilled across the surrounding area. Masts fell, blackened sails made a harsh hiss as they collided with the cold water, and what was left turned turtle and capsized as the sea filled their hulls and reclaimed its place. By dawn, the only things left afloat were pieces of wood, blown around by the blasts, and whoever was clinging on to them for dear life.

Middle Road found a young lieutenant pulling himself onto the dock. When he saw her, he looked ready to bolt, but then realized running would probably get him killed.

Eyeing the orange sunlight reflect off the bay, he glanced back at the captain, hoping she would leave. When she didn’t, he finally spoke. “What are going to do with me?”

Nightmane, Governor Psych, and several officers had arrived and stopped. They saw Captain Road tremble a bit. Then she replied: “You are Dominion, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am. Lieutenant Commander Five, captain of DNV Killer Angel. I never had a name.”

“Under an Atlantean flag?”

“Yes, ma’am, under orders from the admiral. Please don’t kill me!” he pleaded.

“Is there a reason you did this besides following orders?”

“Please, hear me out, ma’am. There’s a gunboat, unarmed, out in the deep ocean. Two, actually. They are unsupplied. Aboard, my daughter and the children of my comrades are starving to death. I was told that she would be brought home only if I did exactly what I was told.” Tears had begun filling his eyes.

Middle Road shook him. “Where are they? Tell me!” she practically screamed.

“I don’t know. Only Mariner knows, and he’s probably dead!”

“You mean this asshole?” Nightmane asked. He motioned for a splintered, beat-up Dominion admiral to be dragged up by guards. “He apparently never came back to his ship. My boys found him snooping around the lighthouse. They arrested him and sent some others to look for any kind of weapon. None found.”

“That’s because you blew up my work! You have destroyed my life, my goal!” Mariner snapped back.

“Yeah, I don’t care. What matters is that you’re not gonna endanger my home any longer.”

“Shut it, Nightmane.” Middle Road said, irritated. “Now, Admiral, if you’d like to live another five minutes, you’ll tell me where these gunboats are.”

He didn’t respond, obviously hiding something. She slapped him hard across the muzzle, causing blood to trickle from his nose. “Tell me, now!” When he failed to reply again, she smacked him again. “As much as I don’t like doing this, I’ll do what I must to keep ponies alive if I can. So, tell me what I want to know, or this will be much worse. After all, I have no qualms with dropping you into the sea tied to a rock.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Well, you came under an Atlantean flag. That tells me that I may give you a spy’s treatment.”

Mariner fumed. “Ocean grid twenty-nine.”

“And where is that?”

“South-southwest. One hundred sixty miles.”

“Of what?”

“Cape Lune.”

“Mr. Nightmane, relay that to Tie Dye, and tell her to send Dragonheart to those coordinates. If you’re wrong, Admiral, you’ll be in a world of pain. Governor Psych, we’ll give Lieutenant Five the benefit of the doubt. See to it that he is given… better accommodations than our friend Mariner here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Author's Note

A longer one, but I got rolling. Next chapter will be following the Queen, and then we'll see where we go after that.

Once again, King Jagged Edge's influence shows itself.

Feedback appreciated.

35. The Siege of Nautinia

Queen Atlanta planted her hoof on her face. Once again, pure stupidity ruled the battlefield. At least it was on the Dom side this time. Three Dominion battlewagons had simultaneously exploded while trying to unleash a broadside on Fort Azure, and the only thing Atlanta could figure happened was that they accidentally spiked all thirty of those guns. When the smoke cleared, all that remained was splinters.

A dense fog of white smoke obscured Fort Azure from view. However, cheering would probably not be a bad guess as to what the citadel’s occupants were doing. The Atlantean flag still flapped in the breeze on its iron flagstaff, barely seen above the haze. Stone dust blew in the wind as fifty-pound cannonballs embedded themselves into the walls. Meanwhile, the fort’s lighter thirty-twos fired rapidly into the tangle of ships, sending splinters piercing and sails tearing. The overpressure of the five-inch cruiser gun they’d taken from Indianapolis for studying months ago signaled the canvas-tearing shriek of its projectile as it spat it out with a licker of flame. Atlanta had placed that gun on her palace roof, where it could hit practically anything without risk of return fire, in hopes that it could turn the tide of the siege. So far, not so good.

“My Queen!” puffed a wheezing tired runner from her own palace ray-dee-oh. “Signal from Lavender Blue Sea!”

“Well, let’s hear it.”

He paused to catch his breath. Then he continued: “Commanding Officer Lieutenant Commander Crabwalker sends his regards, and says he will arrive in four days with the defense force at Haven Cove! If we can hold out that long,” he subconsciously added, eyeing the battle scene laid out before them.

“Tell him that he’d better hurry. Haven Cove is two days out. That means he’s giving the ships there two days to prep. I want that fleet on its way by dawn tomorrow, or he may be too late to save us. We cannot hold four days.”

“Yes, ma’am!” The runner scurried back to the ray-dee-oh to relay the message.

Atlanta turned to stare on at the once-beautiful city. Columns of smoke towered from the massive fires at their bases, ignited by incendiary shot and fueled by the wood spread through the streets. The upper town had been under bombardment for a week now, and not much more than a couple of buildings remained standing. The rest had crumbled into shards of stone and jagged splinters of hardwood. The lower city was even worse: hundreds of homes and shops were either ablaze or destroyed. Tiny muzzle flashes from the faltering defenders, made of police forces equipped with guns and scattered about with no hope of rescue or reinforcement, went unseen through the gray smoke and dust. From her position, she couldn’t hear them yelling at their comrades over the noise, feel them quickly bandaging their wounded and calling it good, or see their grimy, tired, faces, knowing that they couldn’t get help, knowing that even if reinforcements were coming, they’d most likely be too late.

From scouting reports she knew only fifteen groups of about five ponies each constituted this defense. Normally, the Doms wouldn’t care, but they had become enough of a pain in the ass that they were being systematically hunted down, group by group, pony by pony, until they were all dead and the Doms could pass freely without risk of attack.

An unexpected rumble brought her attention to the north. An airship had just unleashed a twelve-gun broadside down into the harbor below. It was flying the swirling blue with a golden clamshell and silver pearl of the Atlantean flag off its stern flagpole, and the dark grey balloon above it strained against the weight of the vessel beneath. She was fresh out of a shipyard, as her paint had barely a scratch and her soft golden bulwarks stripe appeared to be still drying. A single word in wide white letters spelled out her name on the hovergas-filled balloon: Ember.

Cheering broke out on the palace walls as the weary troops realized what it meant. They knew an airship called Ember had been practically attached to AREA and rumor had it she was supposed to signal their arrival onto the bluffs and begin their artillery bombardment.

As Atlanta watched, a large piece of cloth - signal flags! - was raised and lowered, soon replaced by another. The airship was communicating to hidden forces just over the bluff, telling them what the situation was. A flare shot up from the bluff, seen around the airship. A blue magic flare. Atlanta cast her own high into the sky, a red one this time, and waited for any response. She was about to send a second when several green magic flares were launched on the bluff. The queen counted. There was enough for each AREA regiment to have launched one.

Ember moved to a different position, one where she and her crew could support Fort Azure, but also out of the army’s way. Then, with a thunderous applause, every single cannon on the bluff fired. A huge cloud of white smoke obscured their crews from seeing what they hit, but each gun had been carefully aimed to purposefully miss any allied areas. The dockyards were completely blown into pieces three seconds later. Some cannonballs had been aimed high and exploded over the destroyed port, sending shrapnel screaming into the Dom ships closest to the destruction. Atlanta had just barely begun to register the significance of the moment when the artillery opened up again like a salute, one after the other, firing into the mass of warships riding at anchorage just barely in range. As the second third of guns started firing, the first one began again. And again. And again. Continuous thunder rolled down the bluffs and into the city like a never-ending storm.

Atlanta moved to the main gate and looked over the stone wall. As soon as she did, her helmet was taken off by a bullet and she fell down. Ponies raced to her, but found her without a single bullet wound. She frantically felt her face for anything. Then somepony came with her dented sunsteel helmet. Atlanta nodded, took the helmet with her magic, and grimaced. “Damn heavy thing saved my life.”

The sentry in one of the towers called down, “They’re comin’ for the kill!”

Atlanta hammered the dent back out and put the helmet on. She unsheathed her personal sword and ran down the steps. When she reached the scorched but soaked doors, her immaculate steel sword gleaming in the dusty sunlight, the six thousand, five hundred Tampa Guard not on guard duty let out a roar that threatened to deafen her.

“Some of us may not live through this madness,” she admitted loudly after the roar had subsided, “but fear not! Our army has arrived and is coming down the bluffs as we speak! All we must do is hold long enough to link up with them, and it’s game over for the Doms!” She finished with a shout much like a pre-battle speech.

For the next couple hours, the Guard listened as the sounds of battle drew closer. Finally, a sentry called out the distance to the attacking Atlanteans: five miles, four, three. Two miles, one. The clash grew in intensity with each passing minute. Harsh gunshots rang out. Short swords clanged against steel-bronze helmets. An orange flare flew. Not yet. A red one.

“Get ready!” Atlanta yelled.

The massive doors swung open. Atlanta, who’d sheathed her sword hours ago when it was clear she didn’t need it, now brandished it again. She squinted in the sudden brightness of the late afternoon sun for a moment. Then she let out a blood-curdling cry and charged. Behind her, sixty-five hundred troops followed suit and fired into the mass, being careful not to hit their raging queen. Then they ran into the fray, hacking nearby surprised Doms and shooting ones farther away.

Atlanta paused in a lull as her ponies - trained soldiers - passed her and continued on. She glanced to the north, where her reinforcements had come. Above the nearest Atlantean regiment flew the battle-torn flag of the Second Coastal. Knowing that her newfound link was a strong one, she sighed in relief and dug her sword into the ground. She leaned on it wearily, gazing on to the ruined city ahead.

The Doms, who’d been so organized, so efficient, and so very professional moments ago, suddenly broke. It was like they knew they were losing. It started slowly, the rearguard losing its wits, but turned into a panicked rush as the Dominion’s invasion force realized retreat was their only hope for escape and most likely survival as well. The ships of the line in the harbor had ceased firing on Fort Azure and Fort Lazuli, their captains choosing to get out while they still could. The fleet vacated the bay so quickly, in fact, that it was like they’d suddenly vanished into thin air.

“My Queen, are you alright?” asked a white Pegasus mare. By her rank pins, she was a colonel.

“Yes, thank you. If not for your timely arrival, I doubt we would’ve lasted much longer.”

“I’ll relay that to Sarge, with your permission.”

Atlanta looked the mare over. “I recognize you. Colonel Moonshine Silvercrest, Second Coastal Regiment?”

“Yes, ma’am. I run that joint.” Her eyes widened at the sudden conversational attitude she’d portrayed at her queen. “I didn’t mean it like that, ma’am.”

“I understand.” Atlanta took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I hear you and Sarge have kept AREA from falling apart.”

“We do, ma’am.”

“I think you have it under control with that setup. You will continue to work with Sarge in running the army. Meanwhile, an officer of your choice from your regiment will become the commanding officer of said regiment, and is promoted to Colonel if he or she has not been already. I’ll need to know who you choose as soon as you can tell me.”

“I already have a pick, ma’am. Lieutenant Treetop would make an excellent CO.”

“It’s settled, then. Tell him to report to you and Sarge tomorrow for promotion, and make sure he knows the setup.”

“Yes, ma’am. Will do.”

Author's Note

I finally had a reason to follow Atlanta for a whole chapter.

Feedback appreciated.

36. Redeployment

Crimson picked his way through the rubble that covered the streets of the once-proud Atlantean capital. Nautinia had survived the three-month siege he’d so quickly helped to end, but just barely. Not a single building stood on the waterfront, and even though the damage was less extensive farther from shore, it was still painfully ruined. Entire livelihoods had been destroyed in an instant. The bay was choked with sunken Dominion ships, their masts poking out of the water during the low tide. Both Fort Azure and Fort Lazuli has suffered horribly, their stone towers and outer walls all but destroyed. Assisting vessels from Haven Cove were due to arrive that afternoon, but they would need to move the waterlogged ships before they could enter the harbor under the watchful eyes of the two broken but still formidable citadels.

Behind Crimson, Platinum, Mirage, Southern Lights, and Janelane followed, amazed at the amount of hits the city had taken. The Second Coastal, now led by the newly promoted Colonel Treetop, had spread out in this section of Nautinia to find any survivors. So far, they hadn’t found squat.

The teenage filly Phoenix Brightwings, the regiment’s unofficial mascot, had been left at the palace, not willing to let them leave Pacifica without her. They’d reluctantly caved in to her pleas after a couple hours, and were glad to have her in probably the safest place in Atlantis right now. Queen Atlanta had literally taken Phoenix under her wing and immediately sent relief supplies, along with other valuable rebuilding resources, to Pacifica after hearing her story.

Crimson eyed the harbor to the south as an unfamiliar shape took form in the clouds above. Accompanying it was a low rumble comparable to distant thunder in volume. As he watched, it circled around for a couple minutes and landed in the open sea beyond. It landed!

A courier hurried to Treetop, who’d watched the flying object from behind Crimson. “Colonel! A message from the Queen!” he breathed.

“Alright, let’s see it.” The courier gave a paper to Treetop. The Colonel then unfolded and read. “Mm-hmm. I see.” He looked at the courier. “Thank you. Send acknowledgement, and inform her that we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Yes, sir!” The courier dashed off, his Earth pony legs taking him towards the palace.

“What did she say, sir?” Janelane asked.

“The message says that Miss Brightwings is still slowly recovering from her ordeal, and that she’s asked to join our regiment. Obviously, she’s too young,” Treetop said amidst a few chuckles, “but she will be joining our ranks in three years, when she actually is old enough, if she’s still committed by then. I don’t doubt her will, though. You guys certainly made an impression on her. Also, that thing that just flew in is one of the Summercrest Project’s flying machines. It’s friendly. Finally, we’ve been assigned to swap with the current defenses at Summercrest, and Miss Brightwings apparently gets to come with us.” Everypony began cheering. “That’s right, we’re going out of the front for six months. If you lived there before joining up, you can sleep in your old house. That’s all.”

As one, the remaining nine hundred ponies and six hundred Changelings of the Second Coastal Regiment happily chorused, “That’s enough!”

Atlanta watched from her outer palace walls as the cheerful Second Coastal crowded the train station half a mile to the west. She saw the distinctive bright orange coat of the filly Phoenix, next to a dark red Pegasus and his circle of friends. From what Phoenix had told her, the Pegasus was Warrant Dawn; the silver Unicorn, Private Starlight; the shimmering-aurora Unicorn was Private Lights; and finally, the Changeling was Mirage. How could she not see the holey body with green hair? They were chatting excitedly, most of them ecstatic about going home.

Colonel - now General - Silvercrest stepped up beside her, sighing at the sight. “It’s good to see them finally go back. Most of the guys left came from Summercrest.”

“That’s why I made the order. Your former regiment has been in the thickest, most brutal fighting in this war so far. They deserve a break. All of us do,” Atlanta replied. She straightened. “I apparently need to make a public appearance in about five minutes regarding the destruction the Doms turned Nautinia into. How do I look?”

Silvercrest briefly looked over her ruler’s dirty blue coat and messy green mane and tail. The alicorn’s turquoise eyes had tired, heavy bags under them, and her orange sunsteel armor barely glinted through the dust, grime, and scratches covering it. “Like a battle-weary soldier, my Queen,” she said. “But I would put some eyeshadow on if I were you. Unless, of course, you plan on looking extremely tired and stressed.”

“I hate eyeshadow. I’ll be fine, General, but thank you for your opinion.” Atlanta’s shoulders slumped. “After this, I’m going to need a shower, sleep, and a hot meal. Supporting four thousand refugees in my palace has kept me from such luxuries these last few days. Now that the crisis is mostly over, I can relax a little.”

“I’d say you deserve it, my Queen. If you don’t, you may conk out right when we need you most,” Silvercrest said. “I’ll keep an eye out for trouble while you do.”

“Again, thank you.” Atlanta made her way down the stone stairs and out to the open palace gates, where her appearance was to be made.

The screech of sliding wheels screamed out into the early-morning stillness. Just above the shiny metal circles, thick black coal smoke billowed up from the engine’s funnel, blocking the crescent moon’s light.. Behind them, the train slowed to a halt, its passenger coaches lining up with the station platform. Hundreds of excited ponies leaned out the windows, breathing the fresh air and taking in the scenery around them. The whistle blew a long, hollow, somber note, heralding those who’d returned and mourning those who never would.

For some reason, the Summercrest Station was eerily silent then. The soldiers had expected a warm welcome, complete with banners, beer, and cake. They were now unnerved by the lack of activity. Even the engine’s light had been turned off when the station came in sight, as if they weren’t supposed to see what was coming. Crimson peered out the window to his compartment, trying to comprehend the fact that they may have been forgotten.

Without warning, all the lights came on. A large hoof-crafted banner that read “WELCOME HOME” unfurled itself on the station wall, directly across the platform, and a loud cheer rose up from the ponies who’d been standing absolutely still for the past hour. The crowd had subconsciously split into groups that were usually families, but it made them easily recognizable. Far in the distance, but still clearly seen, Indianapolis fired blank rounds into the harbor, celebratory green, red, and blue fire blossoming from her guns. Fireworks launched from positions all around town, lighting the sky with their explosive beauty.

“Say what you want about Atlantean hospitality,” Platinum said in an aside to Mirage, “but we definitely know how to throw a good party.”

“I’d been referring to the standard AREA equipment when I said that. It is pretty basic,” the Changeling Princess replied. “But, yeah, I agree. Damn.”

Crimson was already climbing out the window and waved for somepony to help him out. Southern Lights playfully pushed, and the red Pegasus fell through the gap and nearly faceplanted on the stone platform. His immediate spreading of his wings saved him from injury, and he proceeded to get his stuff, which was being moved through the window. Afterwards. He helped Phoenix Brightwings come through, then jokingly abandoned the group in favor of tackling his sister.

Crystal Shard had arrived with Ember the day before with the news of their arrival. That message had given Summercrest enough time to prepare this surprising homecoming that had already given some of the battle-hardened ponies tears. She yelped in surprise as Crimson snagged his hooves around her neck and she went tumbling.

Crimson and Crystal’s mother and father, Shooting Star and Physics Psych, respectively, smiled. Shooting Star cried tears of relief when she saw that not only her son truly was alive, but he hadn’t forgotten his family. “Crimson…” She couldn’t even finish her sentence, so close she was to simply sobbing grateful tears.

“Mom!” Crimson got up and embraced his mother, then his father. “Dad!” The smile on his face was a reunion joy, watery droplets of his own joining the small pool his mother had started. He closed his eyes, absorbing the moment in all its glory.

Around them, similar reunions occurred. Platinum joined his older brother in a playful sibling head-bashing. Sergeant Oreo “Cookie” Cream hugged his finacé, then met her muzzle with his own. Southern Lights, after exiting the train, walked right into his parents. Janelane met her foster family with a cheerful grin. Mirage mostly stayed on the sidelines, but then noticed that her friends’ families were right next to each other. She hopped in, posing with the group for a reunion photo, with the filly Phoenix smiling wider than the Celestial Sea right in front.

Nopony paid much attention to the approximately three hundred Changelings that bounded off the train. They proceeded to hop around, unload their stuff, and generally have a good time.

“Mom, Dad, this is Mirage,” Crimson introduced the Princess next to him. “She’s the Princess of the Emberforge Valley Changeling Hive. This is Janelane, a great addition to our team. Southern Lights, though we still miss his other half. And finally,” he said, picking up the filly with his wing, “we have Phoenix Brightwings. She’s stuck to us like glue since Second Pacifica.”

“Son, we’re just glad to see you. And for the next six months! I don’t know what told the Queen to send you here, but she certainly did a kind thing. For all of us here,” Physics Psych said, gesturing to the tearful reunions around them. “Even if some of you will never come back, we still cherish everyone.”

Crimson waved towards home. “How about we clear the platform and let others get off the train?”

A robed, hooded figure watched the proceedings from a nearby hilltop, covered in the darkness of the night. He saw weary soldiers, relieved to have a break from the terrible war they fought. The crimson red Pegasus and his group were of particular interest. They were tight-nit and had handled everything thrown at them so far.

He crept backwards down the hill to his tent, unseen in the “swamp oak” forest that surrounded Summercrest. His… companion, he often thought of her, glanced up as he approached, her blue face backlit by the small campfire. She was reading her set of orders on a piece of rough parchment, eyeing the last section with confusion.

“What’s this?” Her soft voice, small and quiet, just barely carried to his ears.

“I have one on my sheet, too. It’s a magical timer, ticking to real time,” he replied. “Set to six years from now.”

“Why?”

He read the parchment himself, something his ruler wouldn’t be too fond of. “A grand plan. Not even Atlanta will be able to resist surrender after we destroy her precious army at the one place she will never expect: the Aquarius River Fork.”

Author's Note

This concludes the first year of the war. Next chapter will probably be like a speedrun for the next six months or so of the storyline, allowing me to skip to the parts Crimson's buds or Middle Road's crew are actually involved in. Even though I have a bunch of peeps to use instead, this is a helluva long story and I gotta get to the cool stuff at some point in time :pinkiehappy:

Feedback is appreciated!

37. Conflicting Orders

Crimson adjusted his dented his bronze-colored steel helmet, badly dented from the past year. When this war was over, he’d keep it - that was the policy - as a “thank you” from the government for serving in the army. He’d also keep the repeater leaning on the wall beside his bed.

The ponies of the Second Coastal who had homes in Summercrest were allowed to stay there as long as they didn’t cause problems and if they still came to watch duty. Those who didn’t stayed in the hastily-built barracks by the waterfront, near the ruins where several disguised Dominion ships had been blown up three months ago. The fact that they could stay with their families during this deployment boosted morale by a large factor, which was definitely important, but it also let the Changeling and former Dom attachments have more room, as three quarters of the actual regiment was now spread throughout town.

Each morning, Crimson readied for half an hour before going downstairs in full uniform, eat breakfast, then head to his post for the day’s watch. It was kind of normal, which was not something typically associated with wartime life. He saw that life in Summercrest had largely stayed the same as when he left, despite the alien cruiser in drydock and the significant military presence that protected it and its town. The main difference seemed to be the lack of incomplete Fireheart corvettes in the shipyard.

And that was the way it stayed for the Second Coastal. For six months after the Nautinia Siege had been lifted, they’d led a fairly normal guard-duty life. Sergeant Oreo Cream finally married his finacé. Crimson built a stockpile of grilled-cheese sandwiches. Crystal Shard opened a jewelry shop near town center. Treetop did his best to keep away from the local casino. Captain Road sent her patrols. The sun and moon rose and set, dawn and dusk, for six relaxing, normal months.

Then it went to hell.

It started when the orders came in for their redeployment. As per usual with such things, a large commotion stirred up. The replacement regiment came in early. They were brought up to speed. Treetop filled his ponies in on the deal: they were to transfer back into AREA’s main force. However, AREA was camped in the mountains to the west, on the other side of Atlantis. The train system didn’t go that far yet, but it could take them as far as Violet Bay, which was about thirty miles south of the army. But by the time they got there, AREA could be long gone, already on its way to stop yet another Dominion invasion. Even though General Continuum’s explicit orders were for them to wait for the regiment, it was still a possibility.

Then conflicting orders came through, with Queen Atlanta wanting them to go to Port Snowfall, almost seven hundred miles due north. The train definitely went all the way there, but it didn’t make sense. Why not go back to the Army’s main campsite, where they would just simply fold themselves into the line?

Atlanta’s second letter explained:

Colonel Treetop, Second Coastal Regiment, Atlantean Reserve Emergency Army:

YOUR EYES ONLY

DISCUSS WITH OFFICERS/NCO’S AT DISCRETION

Colonel Treetop,

I have been informed that your regiment is approaching the end of its deployment in Summercrest. Given that the Second Coastal has been in the thickest fighting, I hope that you found it relaxing and rejuvenating. Give Sergeant Cream my congratulations on his marriage, and send my regards to all of your ponies. Without them, we would most definitely have lost the war by now.

My orders to you were to travel up to Port Snowfall on our northern coastline. Despite the fact that AREA’s current camp is by the Whispering Mountain Pass, this still stands. You will not link up with the main army. I repeat, do not link with the main force. All couriers sent to that location are believed to have been intercepted by Dominion forces between Nautinia and the Whisperers. We have received no reply from our messages, and all communications spells, scrying spells, and teleportation spells to the area are being blocked.

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO TRAVEL TO THE MAIN ARMY. IF YOU PROCEED TO THAT LOCATION, WE MAY NEVER FIND YOU AGAIN.

I hope that this letter solves any conflicting-order issues you may be having right now. As Queen of Atlantis and Commander In Chief of All Armed Forces, I order you to travel to Port Snowfall instead. We have an invasion force building there that we believe will both relieve pressure on our territory and change the course of the war.

~Queen Atlanta Aurora Phoenix

Treetop had borrowed Crimson’s family dining room for his meeting. All thirty-five officers and sixty NCO’s of the Second Coastal Regiment were required attendance, along with Mirage for the Changeling attachment. Some of them had to stand.

After the Colonel told them the contents of the letter, he pulled out the envelope. “When I first saw this, I was extremely excited about the possibility of an invasion of our own. But, Atlanta explicitly said at the beginning of the war that this would be a defensive war only. Also, I hadn’t noticed the condition of the envelope it was carried in.” He tossed the envelope onto the table almost carelessly, but his mind was focused partly on the fighting sounds coming from outside.

One of the officers, a lieutenant, eyed it closely. “It looks authentic, sir,” he said, “but the seal is definitely broken. You can see it if you look closely at where the seal is. There’s a small bit of jagged edge where the original seal had been broken, then laid over with a new one. Not to mention that we never told the Queen about Cookie’s wedding. This letter cannot be trusted, sir.”

“Good eye, Sharpshooter. I saw the same thing,” Treetop replied. “The seals from Continuum’s letters were not touched, but this one - from the Queen - and all letters from Silvercrest were all tampered with. This gives me uncertainty. Until we can actually get confirmation as to what the hell we’re actually supposed to do, we stay put.”

Suddenly, Shooting Star (Crimson’s mother) crashed through the closed window. She was bruised and bloody. Scratches from both the glass shards and the rose bushes outside covered her. Her bright yellow left eye was swollen over and her jaw was broken. Her typically glittered mane and tail were a complete mess. She weakly pointed outside at a fleeing pony before passing out.

Everyone stood there in shock for a tantalizing moment. Then Crimson sprung into action, working to move his mother from the glass shards now scattered on the table. Treetop signaled for the two door guards, who’d just come in to see what was going on, to go outside. Four of the NCO’s hurried after the pony running like mad towards town. Their experience legs quickly caught up to the runner and they tackled him, bound him, and dragged him back to the large house.

A field medic hurried through the now-ajar door between the dining room and main entrance hall. She and another lifted Shooting Star carefully onto a stretcher and carried her to the makeshift hospital that had been set up in the study a year before. Crimson watched them go, not sure if he should follow or stay.

Treetop gestured for him to sit. “Your mother is in good hooves, Crimson. Let’s focus on what we need to do.”

“Yes, sir.” The Pegasus sat down after clearing the chair of glass shards.

After the four NCO’s that had run down the runner returned, Treetop continued. “Magical communications to AREA have supposedly been blocked. But we need to think outside the box. We need to think of that as not just Silvercrest’s group, because we are, by definition, part of that army. The letter could have originally been referring to us, but was then changed by whoever to make us believe we were in the clear. Then we leave to go wherever and they swoop in for the kill.”

“Can we even trust the railroad system anymore, Colonel?” Mirage asked. “My mother told me last week that all deliveries to Emberforge by rail have completely stopped.”

“That far north, probably not,” Sharpshooter replied. “I know from my train time right before the war that Pacifica isn’t just an industrial powerhouse. All railroad traffic on the north-south line goes through there, along with tracks from the four corners. Pacifica has the damn complex. The map. If the Doms wanted to know exactly where all our railroad lines are within a three-mile accuracy, they learned when they took the city. There could be Doms taking out every single supply train, robbing passenger cars, and living off the land around them all over the country.”

Treetop raised his eyebrows. He knew Sharpshooter had been a railroad engineer, but he didn’t know the entire system’s layout was in Pacifica. “And with nopony the wiser, they could change messages, fool supply runs, and destroy the whole army without firing a shot. After we’ve been forced to surrender due to lack of supplies, they can just walk right into Nautinia and Atlanta wouldn’t even know until they were on her doorstep.”

Crimson gulped. “We have a problem.”

Author's Note

I know, I said it would be kind of a six-month speedrun, but I still kinda did it. It's fine.

It also wasn't until this chapter that I realized how I was going to get this done, as the characters had mentioned it happened in Homefront (because this is a prequel written afterwards, I can say this).

Feedback appreciated.

38. Summercrest Confrontation

Atlanta stared at Summercrest through a scrying spell. The Second Coastal hadn’t left, which in itself was weird, but they’d also apparently began to beef defenses around the governor’s residence. Either her messages had never gotten through, or they had been ignored. Given Colonel Treetop’s practically spotless track record, it was most likely the former. But that didn’t explain the defensive strategy.

She shifted her spell to the harbor. Indianapolis was still there, a wisp of dark gray smoke lazily curling above her funnel - no, it was called a “smokestack.” The morning’s seagoing patrol was coming back to port as the afternoon ship, a Fireheart corvette, cast off and began its journey to the open ocean. A pleasant surprise came as she turned her attention to the yard, where a downscaled version of the cruiser, also built of steel, was in the early stages of construction. Its keel had been laid and the two boilers were clearly visible in the midday sun.

She ended the spell and quickly brushed her mane to the side as she heard a knock on the door. “Come in.”

“Ma’am.” General Continuum looked worried, just like any officer should during a war. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” Atlanta replied, sitting down behind her deep brown desk, resting her hooves on its dark wood. Her personal office was where she normally dealt with the day’s political issues, and it was decorated so. The room was clean and tidy, with not a single speck of dust hiding from watchful eyes. Her oak bookshelf, tucked away in the corner, was full of her favorite books, mostly alternate-universe fantasies and fiction, but some notable fairy tales and a couple nonfiction volumes were in there as well. The official ship commission manifest and army regimental charters sat on the bottom shelf, out of the way of the Queen’s everyday needs for a good story.

The fairly dim candlelight was assisted by the sun’s golden rays that shone through a decently sized rectangular window to Atlanta’s left. It reflected off her calm turquoise eyes and tired sea-blue face, her neatly trimmed mane, and nervous ears. A lot of the shine across the room was from the Queen’s armor and helmet, hanging from their rack directly across from the window, and the vanity mirror, used when she accidentally fell asleep in the office and had to make herself presentable.

The alicorn took her crown off and placed it beside her hooves, signifying that she only wanted to be addressed as Commander in Chief, not Queen. She sighed. “Records show that you sent messages out of the palace this past week. I just need to know what they were and to whom they were sent.”

“Ah, those,” Continuum said, evidently knowing what she meant. “As you know, I am Spymaster, so I was sending notes out to some of the boys in the field, ma’am.”

“Forgive me. I forgot you had that role.” Atlanta slightly bowed her head in acknowledgement.

“You do not need to apologize, ma’am,” Continuum assured. “We are in the midst of a war, after all, and you have much more on your shoulders than ever. The stress must be great.”

“It is,” Atlanta admitted. “However, I plan on making sure we pull through this on top. I will endure the weight if I must.” She gestured to the door. “Thank you for your honesty, General. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Continuum said. As he passed through the doorway, however, a villain grin broke across his face. She hadn’t suspected a thing.

Captain Middle Road stared down at the steel skeleton in the drydock she walked alongside. A brisk wind was blowing from the sea, signaling an approaching storm. She hoped that the temporary roof the yard workers were erecting would both stay in place through the howling wind to come and protect the unpainted steel from the rain. They had already started to paint the round bottom as its plates were bolted, its rich red easily found amongst the dull browns and grays around it. Her XO Tie Dye and Harbormaster Nightmane had agreed that it could save a couple days at the end of the line, and she wasn’t about to argue against that. Given that it was an experimental ship, she was more than willing to start sea trials on the first - but possibly last, given the trouble they were having - Atlantean-built steel vessel as soon as possible.

She spun around to look inland. Just ahead, half a mile away, was the military checkpoint that the Second Coastal still hadn’t abandoned, despite the new arrivals. In fact, the regiment had simply dug in deeper these past couple days. Treetop explained to her that it was suspicion of conflicting orders and maybe a conspiracy to take Summercrest. She accepted the explanation, but didn’t quite understand.

A commotion was stirring at the checkpoint. She hurried to see what was going on.

Two Changelings sat at the checkpoint, half-heartedly listening to the pony’s shouted complaints. He wanted them to leave so that he could take the post like he was supposed to, but they weren’t inclined to really care what exactly he said. The stallion finally shut up.

“Sorry, but we’re under Colonel Treetop’s explicit orders to not leave this spot until we’re relieved by somepony from the Second Coastal, not your regiment, whatever it is.”

“The Fifteenth Tributary.”

The Changeling on the left would’ve raised an eyebrow if he had one. Instead, he just acted like he did. “Hey, wait, did you say Fifteenth Tributary? Last I heard, they’d only gotten to Seventh. Isn’t that right, Buggy?”

“Yeah, Shadow-Head,” the other Changeling, the one on the right, said. “The Seventh Tributary Regiment, organized two months ago.”

The stallion realized his mistake. “I meant Fifteenth Coral Reef! Coral Reef!”

Shadow-Head laughed. “That’s a good one! What did you say you were yesterday? The Sixth Coastal, which, by the way, isn’t due to form for another week? Seriously, what regiment are you in?”

“Just let me take my post!”

Buggy grunted, a sign that he wanted the pony to leave. Changeling body language was not the same as a normal pony’s, but the stallion got the point. He spun around and strode away, a disgusted look on his face. Buggy and Shadow-Head hoofbumped. They had the best photographic memory in the Second Coastal, which was why they hadn’t left the checkpoint for a week. One typically slept while the other guarded during the day, swapped at night, with their meals brought to them. They also did clean, one at a time, but at least one of the the two was always at the checkpoint at any given time.

“I’m going back to sleep,” Shadow-Head said before slumping back in his chair and closing his eyes. He smiled, clearly enjoying his afternoon siesta. Meanwhile, Buggy stayed alert for any more troublemakers.

A tan Unicorn approached from the yards they were guarding. “Exactly what happened, soldier?” she asked.

Buggy whirled around, shocked. He tapped Shadow-Head, who did the same. They quickly stood straight and saluted. “Good afternoon, Captain Road, ma’am!” the two chorused.

Middle Road returned the sharp salute. “I’ll ask again. What happened?”

“That stallion wanted to replace us at our post, ma’am,” Buggy replied. “We told him we weren’t moving.” As an afterthought: “Ma’am.”

“Treetop tell you two to have somepony from his regiment, and only his, here at all times?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll hafta talk to him,” she mumbled. She spoke up again: “You two don’t happen to know why Treetop is doing this, do you?”

Both of them shook their heads. “No, ma’am,” they both said in sync. “The Princess just told us what he told her,” Buggy continued.

“Princess Mirage is involved?”

“Yes, ma’am. How else would two Changelings come to be guarding the yard?” Buggy instantly shut up with a clop as he realized he could have crossed the line. “Sorry, ma’am,” was what came out of his mouth next.

“No need to apologize.” Middle Road started to turn back to the yard, but noticed Buggy beckoning to somepony down the street. The pony jogged over breathing hard.

“I’ve been lookin’ all over fer you guys,” he panted between deep breaths. “The Colonel’s got somethin’ brewing, and he’s deadpan excited to start! He just needed to know how you were first.”

“We haven’t left this post unattended for weeks,” Shadow-Head said bluntly. “How could you not find us?”

“I think he assumed I knew and sent me.”

“That seems legit.”

“I know, right? Anyway, you two good?”

“Just tell Colonel Treetop that we’re waiting on him.” Buggy waved the pony off.

Middle Road nodded, finally leaving the two Changelings to themselves. Colonel Treetop had better know what in the world is going on, she thought, ‘cause I sure as hell don’t.

The leader of the replacement regiment looked down on the red Pegasus as if he was but a bug. The Warrant, however, did not back an inch, nor did he falter under the criticizing gaze. He simply stared back, right into his adversary’s sky-blue eyes.

Tension was rising between them, almost palpable now. Crimson and his friends (excluding Mirage) were locked in a staring contest in the town square. Their opponent: the commanders of the replacement regiment, calling themselves the “True Atlanteans” this time. Given the resolve both sides had built either over the course of the war or somehow else, the contest could last years if it had to.

Treetop stood straight against a nearby building, just barely seeing the standoff around the corner. He was behind the “True Atlantean” side, between them and their main HQ. In a large formation encircling the regiment’s commanders, and protecting its rear from possible attack, his regiment lay in patient wait for the signal. Treetop just needed proof of whose side they were on.

A pony tapped him on the shoulder. “Sir, Mirage has returned.”

“Good. You take watch. I’ll see what she has to say.” He walked to his temporary headquarters, the local police station two buildings down the street, where he could direct the possible fight on-site. The Changeling Princess Mirage was waiting for him in the central room with the help desk and saluted briskly as he came close. He returned it. “Report.”

Mirage said nothing at first. Instead, she pulled several papers out of her saddlebag and placed them on the desk beside her. Then she spoke. “All fifty of these papers have the Dom seal at the bottom, signed by both Jagged Edge and his main general,” she explained. “I checked six times. They’re all genuine, and I had to break the fabricated Atlantean seal on about half of them to check. These three,” she said, pulling out three more papers, “are replies to the most recent messages, not sent.”

Treetop stared at the fifty-three messages. One talked about taking Indianapolis. Another mentioned the Aquarius Fork. A third talked about taking the ship boiler technology, then allowing the Doms to build steam-powered ships of the line using their industrial might. The fourth wanted them to steal the flying machine that came with the cruiser. Each one was an upfront attack on Atlantis, Queen Atlanta, and the safety and security ponies should have.

But the last one was the worst. He only saw the last sentence:

After Atlantis, Equestria.

Treetop slammed his hoof down on the desk. “Unacceptable! Just unacceptable! Mirage, if you would send the signal.”

The Changeling smiled. Walking under the open skylight above, her horn lit up and a red magical flare shot into the sky. Almost immediately, gunshots rang out - warning shots, hopefully - as the Second Coastal moved in. Ten minutes later, Crimson brought the enemy commander into the police station where Treetop was still fuming.

“You have betrayed the Queen with your actions today!” the commander said.

“Please, sit down.” Treetop gestured to a seat at the desk he stood next to. His voice was audibly controlled in a barely calm but condescending manner. The commander sat, not knowing what else he could do.

“Thank you,” the Colonel said. “Now, do you see these messages on the desk before you?”

The commander let his eyes drop to the fifty-three papers scattered all over the desk. His eyes widened as he recognized every single one of them. “How in all hell did you get ahold of these?”

“You forget that I have a detachment of Changelings under my command,” Treetop smiled. “My agent found all of the messages before you in your personal quarters, which she has complained to have smelled like an overdose of perfume. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The commander spat out a series of insults and words that Treetop mentally tuned out. As the prisoner finally pulled in a breath of air, he asked, “What did he say? I wasn’t really listening.”

“He essentially called you a motherfracking son of a female dog,” Mirage replied. “At least, that’s what heard.”

“Right. Are you done yet? If so, shut the hell up. I run the Army’s presence here, which means I directly represent Queen Atlanta, and your entire regiment has been confirmed to be Dominion. Therefore, by the Atlantean Rules of P.O.W. and Espionage, I can declare you spies and am authorized to simply execute you all here and now.”

That made the commander shut his mouth. Then he went into a barrage of “you can’t do this” type comments. Treetop was tempted to tune him out again, but didn’t. At the end, the Colonel looked at his officers, all of whom had now gathered around to watch. He couldn’t back down in front of his own regiment; he’d look like he was letting spies get away. At the same time, being too strict could get him fired.

“The soldiers may be like those guys Warrant Janelane picked up at Pacifica,” Treetop said in an aside to his second-in-command. “They may not have a choice. However, the commanders have significant influence, and allowing them to live would be a problem.”

“You’d let the enlisted live, and execute the officers?”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean that the enlisted most likely don’t have a choice in the matter of doing what they did. The officers, on the other hoof, would have to be dealt with case by case. The NCO’s too. You know what - we’ll deal with each soldier on an individual case-by-case basis. If it turns out that they could’ve said no, then they are to be treated as spies. If not, they will be pardoned. Those are my orders.”

“Yes, sir.” The Lieutenant turned to the other officers and NCOs of the Second Coastal. “Atten-shun!” They all stood straight. “Inform the enemy regiment of the situation. Each soldier will be dealt with individually. If they are caught escaping, you are authorized to use nonlethal force. Tell them that we want complete cooperation and honesty, or they will be treated as spies. If they are determined to be spies, despite the aforementioned actions, they will receive the same treatment. If they are not, they will be pardoned from execution and will be treated as P.O.W.’s. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” all of them shouted in response.

“Good. Colonel?” He looked at Treetop, who nodded. He turned back to the officers and NCO’s, still standing at attention. “Dismissed!”

They all filed out. As Crimson walked through the door, he asked Mirage, “What did you find in there?”

“Collaboration with the Doms at least,” she replied. “Maybe orders. The Dom seal was hidden in each of those letters somewhere, hidden behind text, under the Atlantean seal, you name it. I might’ve not even found all of them.”

“Damn.” Crimson watched two fillies play in the streets, the tension gone and fight over. “Those poor bastards had better hope they’re determined prisoners of war.

Author's Note

Back to the action! Anyway,I think a lot is going to go down in the next couple chapters, so they might be longer and they might take more time to write. I also have school now, so that'll definitely slow me down a little bit. Not by much, but a bit.

Feedback appreciated.

39. Teamwork Builds A New Ship

Captain Middle Road walked into the Sixth Street Law Enforcement Office looking for Treetop. She did not want gunshots ringing in the town that was her duty to defend, and his ponies had fired their guns the day before. The pony at the help desk directed her to the Colonel’s office, but warned her that he might be either exhausted or irritated. She found him alright - conked out, his face on the desk and his forelegs spread across the light wood. Her knock on the door shook him from his catnap.

“I can wait, Colonel.” Her expression told the groggy Earth pony that she meant business.

He slowly woke. When his mind finally burned off the grogginess, he shuffled the papers his head had been resting on as a pillow and looked up. “What do you need?”

“What in Harmony do you think you’re doing, firing guns out in town? I didn’t bother you yesterday because I had things to do, but I can’t have you doing whatever the hell you want!”

Treetop sighed. It was a long, continuous sigh, full of exhaustion and strain. He placed the shuffled papers horizontally on the desk and pushed them toward her. “Read these.”

Middle Road picked the stack up. “‘From Jagged Edge… To Jagged Edge… Orders For Summercrest… Nautinia Plans… Aquarius River…’ Okay, so you found a bunch of Dom paperwork that coincides with our current situation.”

“My agent found these in our replacement regiment’s commander’s quarters. All fifty-three of them. I was forced to use certain measures in order to learn why he had them in the first place, and the entire regiment turned out to be Dom. They’ve been taken prisoner. For the next couple weeks, I will interview each individual soldier to see if they truly had no choice in the matter. Those that didn’t will be pardoned. Those that did… the gallows. I apologize in advance for the problems that may - and will - arise.”

“You could’ve told me this earlier! I could’ve helped you!”

“Given that our entire supply network has been fucked ever since they took Pacifica, I didn’t know if I could trust anypony I didn’t know personally.” Treetop’s voice took on a sharp, concise edge. “If that makes you not trust me or hold a grudge against me, I don’t care. What matters is that Summercrest won’t be attacked. Their plan failed. However, there’s always more to these things than we’d like to think. I need to know exactly what the hell your plan is so we can work together.”

“Trust goes both ways, Colonel. I’d like to believe that we can work well together, considering our options, but I need to know everything that goes on. So does Governor Psych and Harbormaster Nightmane.”

“I’ll tell you when I get around to it. Right now, I have a shit-load of P.O.W.’s to talk to.”

Two full weeks had passed. Treetop was at last finished with dealing out Atlantean politics and enforcing law. Communications to and from the other towns were still nonexistent. In the absence of an immediate threat, the officers and NCO’s of the Second Coastal had dedicated themselves to the construction of the new, smaller steel vessel, labeled as a “destroyer” by the Indianapolis’s ship size standards book. Its copper wiring was all over the ship, as were the mechanical bits and bobs they were literally making up as they went.

There were many contributions throughout the time. The ever-so-inventive Seagull, the stallion who’d repaired one of the cruiser’s planes and the only certified pilot they had for it, came up with the idea of tilting the two smokestacks aft about five degrees or so. They did it, seeing that Indianapolis’s own stack was built the same way. Harbormaster Nightmane decided it would be best to keep the hull round-bottomed. Crimson and Platinum applied their sharp eyes, used to finding targets across the field, to the minute details that most ponies would’ve missed. Mirage cast a “liquid air” spell every other day to locate any spots where the hull wan’t waterproof. Southern Lights cast the carefully balanced brass screws and two-hundred-pound solid bronze anchors in the shipyard’s foundry to the exact specifications asked for. With all the assistance pouring in, they were almost done already, even though the upper half was mostly a placeholder bronze material.

Middle Road found herself smiling at the mixed-metal monstrosity they’d created. Steel was much harder to produce than bronze, which slowed production until somepony from the Second Coastal thought of building with bronze and replacing it later with steel. The idea caught steam quickly, and she soon had to authorize the unorthodox shipbuilding method. Even so, she believed that using as much bronze and brass as they could was essential to the completion of the project.

She looked down at the blueprints she held in her hoof. The blue paper was reproduced from the sketchbook one of Indianapolis’s old crew had of naval vessels, old and new. Specifically, this design was based off the image of what it called a “Wickes-class destroyer,” which had four stacks, two screws, and a flat bottom. She compared her paper to the ship supported by drydock scaffolding twenty feet in front of her. The size was good; its two boilers should speed it along at about twenty-five knots at its fastest and its watertight, hydrodynamic hull would easily let water flow right on by its needlepoint bow. The sleek, partially painted hull had bolts and rivets all along the inside, where hydrodynamics were of no concern, and smooth bumps where two plates met heralded the design borrowed from the cruiser. Rivet and bolt heads would hopefully not screw up her speed, but they had to be there because of the laws of physics. Her two most obvious weapons, one fore and one aft, were five-inchers from the cruiser, but her secondary armament was where her teeth were. Atlantean cannon had been placed down her sides, giving her an effective broadside.

“Ma’am, we’re ready to launch.” A yard worker had spoken.

“Of course. Tell Mr. Nightmane that I’ll be there in five.”

Five minutes later, Captain Road’s tan coat was visible by the stern of the new ship. She made her way to where Harbormaster Nightmane was standing excitedly next to the ship’s name painted on the hull: Bats Nightmane. Her number “01” was painted proudly on both sides of her bow in thick white lettering.

“Mr. Nightmane, a few words to the crowd?”

He smiled. “Thank you all for making this day possible!” he called out and struck a bottle of champagne on the stern. The platform he and Middle Road were on swung slowly to the side. The clamps released, sending ANS Bats Nightmane, DD-01, sliding into the bay.

A collective gasp ran through the crowd as Nightmane’s stern dipped low in the water, but it let out in a sigh of relief when she fully righted herself, slowly bobbing in the choppy waves. The sigh broke out into a cheer. They had succeeded.

Treetop walked to Middle Road, who was practically bouncing off invisible walls to start sea trials. The last couple things were being prepared for them, like life preservers and lifeboats. The residual noise from the main shipyard was long gone, leaving a gap where there should be sound. As it was, Middle Road’s ears picked up what he said.

“Yes, Colonel, I plan on sailing her to Nautinia at full speed. We’ll blow the hell out of anything that come our way. You can move out and try to secure Whitecap Point about sixty miles north of us. My XO Tie Dye will hold down the fort while I’m gone, and hopefully protect Summercrest while you are as well.”

“Alright. Take care, Captain.”

“I will, Colonel.” Middle Road took in a deep breath, composed herself, and walked across the gangplank to command the first Atlantean-built steel ship.

Author's Note

Next chapter will focus on Captain Road's exploits, then Crimson's the one after that. That's all I gotta say so you know which POV comes first.

Feedback appreciated.

40. Nightmane In Nautinia

Middle Road felt the brisk wind blowing through her tan coat. She stood on Nightmane’s starboard bridge wing, eyeing the brownish blob of land known as Atlantis as it moved to her right at a disappointingly slow rate. But who cared how fast the land went by? She was going twenty-five knots across the sea, its choppy whitecaps sliced in two by Nightmane’s needlepoint bow. Stormy gray clouds were bundled up like an anvil to the south, heralding a thunderstorm on its way. Lighting flashed from them, just barely in view from this distance. From here, no thunder accompanied them, what remaining boom drowned out by the roar of the wind.

Nautinia was only an hour out, and she was excited to share with Queen Atlanta her accomplishment. Sea trials had gone without a hitch. The five-inch guns on the bow and stern made shrapnel of the long-range targets off Cape Lune, while the broadside cannons effectively shredded all the buoys and churned the already-rough sea out to six hundred yards. The cannonballs were easy to obtain; they were really the same ammo AREA’s twelve-pounders used, so production wasn’t going to be a problem. Plus, they were pretty light for the size of the gun that spat them out - six-pound balls for a standard twelve-pounder gun, and even lighter if they were canister - and they were exceptional.

The Captain’s first hint that something was amiss came when an Artemis frigate came in view over the horizon, her tattered sails and ripped flag flapping in the breeze. She was listing forty degrees to port. As the small destroyer passed by, no response at all came from the crippled ship. Nopony raised an alarm. Middle Road ordered for them to circle around and check out the wreck. Every soul found aboard was lost, killed by some kind of disease. Weird green goo was found in the captain’s cabin. A sample was brought back to the deck, where Middle Road waited.

“Green goo. I’ve never seen it this far north.” The Captain cleared her throat. “This vessel is now a threat to national security. When we get back aboard, I want all of us who came aboard to go through a detox spell. After that, we’ll gain some distance and sink her. Do you have the ship’s plate?”

‘Yes, ma’am.”

Middle Road looked at the solid gold plate that bore the ship’s name. “ANS Avenger. We’ll report her loss to the Queen.”

All seven ponies subjected themselves to a detox spell to detect and destroy any goo that may have come with them as they boarded Nightmane. The metal ship sailed a safe distance away before firing two precious five-inch HE rounds into Avenger’s hull. They turned the Artemis frigate to splinters, and the hulk quickly slipped beneath the waves.

Queen Atlanta knew that the new construction in Summercrest Shipyards had gone. She just didn’t where it was or where it was going. There had been the sea trials, which she could tell never took this long, and then the ship simply disappeared from her scrying spells. That was one of the reasons the Celestial Sea could be dangerous: once you were out there, nopony knew where you were until you came close to land once more.

Suddenly, a relayed message from Fort Azure came in, yelled by the flag-code ponies on the palace’s tallest tower. “Sail to the southeast! Steel hull, two smoking funnels, and smaller than the Summercrest Project!”

Atlanta perked up. Her lost ship was back. Before she could cast her scrying spell, however, she heard another call: “She carries the Atlantean flag! Fort Azure is communicating now, and Fort Lazuli has visual contact!” Atlanta waited a minute for something noteworthy to come from the ship. “She says her designation is ANS Nightmane, DD-01, and she has news regarding the Artemis frigate ANS Avenger!” A minute more. “She says that Avenger was lost at sea, taken by green goo! The wreck is about an hour behind her present course now!”

This far north? “Understood!” the Queen called back. “Keep me informed!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Atlanta watched from the palace wall where she stood as the metal ship steamed into port and hove to at the military dock. The lines secured, the gangplank was pushed into place and supplies began transferring aboard as sailors took shore leave.

Her green mane got in her eyes. She pulled it back with her magic. After a moment, she signaled to her personal guard and walked down to speak to the ship’s captain.

Middle Road spun her right hoof in a circle above her head and pointed at the five-inch guns at the bow and stern, signaling that she wanted them covered in tarp. The crews for each hurried to comply.

“We’ve been sailing this whole way without a ray-dee-oh to talk to base with,” she said to her XO for the voyage. “I hope R&D figured them out, because we’re out of spares from Indianapolis.”

“I do as well, ma’am. Those are extremely useful.”

“I’ll go see if we can get some more of our topside steel instead of bronze. Stay here and hold the fort.”

“Captain.” He pointed to the ocean-blue alicorn walking down the pier. “She’s here.”

“Oh, shit!” Middle Road leaned off the port bridge wing and looked to stern. Half the deck was being repainted and the other half had small rust streaks being chipped away, creating a reddish haze over the ship. “Exec, is the situation the same on the starboard side?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Middle Road took her weight off the rail. “Well, we’re fucked.”

Atlanta strode across the gangplank amidst a crowd of wondered ponies and working sailors. Her light steps went virtually unnoticed on the creaky wood, she thought, until a hastily-assembled side party formed right at the ship’s end. Somepony used a flute to announce her arrival, its fluttery tune almost lost to the racket around.

She immediately recognized the tan Unicorn that bounded down the stairs to greet her. “Captain Middle Road, what have you cooked up this time?”

“My Queen,” the Unicorn replied, saluting. “In coordination with the Second Coastal Regiment’s marepower, the Summercrest Shipyards has constructed the first Atlantean-built vessel made completely of metal. We were in a time crunch, so we planned on replacing all the bronze and brass on deck here with steel when we get some.” She gestured to the surrounding chaos as she spoke.

“ANS Nightmane, DD-01. I heard.” Atlanta raised a green eyebrow. “Exactly what is a ‘DD,’ Captain?”

“We borrowed the designation system from one of Indianapolis’s books. A ‘DD’ is a destroyer, small, fast, maneuverable, and packing some sharp teeth. Since we also based the design off the image of a ship from there as well, we felt it matched.”

The Queen sighed, planting her right hoof over her eyes. “Please tell me that this thing is worth the materials it’ll take to maintain it.”

“I assure you, ma’am, Nightmane will prover her worth.”

Author's Note

I don't have much to say, except that I'm here to answer any questions about the story.

Feedback appreciated.

41. A Changeling's Job (The Battle of Whitecap Point Part 1)

Colonel Treetop peered through his binoculars at the lighthouse across the smooth beach between him and Whitecap Point. The Dominion’s red and black colors flapped in the wind above the lighthouse, confirming Captain Road’s guess that the area was indeed controlled by the enemy.

Not far out to sea, the breakers that gave Whitecap Point its name crested over a small reef. They weren’t very big waves, but they served as a natural barrier against amphibious invasions as they rebounded and created general watery mayhem that had shipwrecked many an unfortunate sailor. The lighthouse was built here fifty years ago to help prevent that kind of event, doing its job well.

The lighthouse itself was built from exactly five hundred sixty-seven solid blocks of Whispering Mountain granite with a circle wall of Emberforge-carved quartz to refract the firelight at the top for dozens of miles around. It was around two hundred feet tall and had a diameter of fifteen feet at the top, twenty at the bottom. The staircase, made of treated spruce wood, hugged the walls as it spiraled to the firepit. Four strategically placed windows let the sun’s rays in during the day, while quartz mirrors reflected the brazier’s light down into the tower at night. The lighthouse keeper’s white-painted home seemed to be the Dom headquarters, given that several guards were stationed outside the door.

A lumber mill had been set up near the lighthouse. With no nearby rivers to assist in running it, there was little doubt that the Doms had acquired a great many workers. The mill was a recent addition since the roof had yet to be built. Either that, or the Doms seriously didn’t care about their mill being worked in all sorts of inclement weather. Several carts filled with cut and trimmed logs were carried to the nearby train station, where they would be transported to who-knows-where, carrying out King Jagged Edge’s plans in his conquest of Atlantis.

Treetop slid back into the trees behind him, once again becoming indistinguishable from the forest surrounding forest. Not if I have anything to say about it.

Crimson was waiting for him. He jotted down notes as Treetop explained the area, frowning at the lumber mill and more so at the lack of a roof. After he showed the notes to the colonel, and Treetop agreed with them, the two slinked away to the Second Coastal’s base camp half a mile to the south. There, they repeated what they’d learned to the other officers and NCO’s.

Once a plan had been formulated and backup planned, they broke to their individual groups to prepare. Janelane and her turncoat Doms repaired any weapons that needed it, doing their absolute best to keep the noise and smoke to a bare minimum. Mirage spread her Changelings throughout the forest to learn the guard rotation and where they slept. Crimson drilled his platoon and Platinum and South secured the supplies. Lieutenant Sharpshooter set up the watch for the next couple nights. A few foggy mornings later, Treetop’s troops were in position, ready to strike. There they would lie in wait for the whole day until the evening watch change.

A pony in Crimson’s platoon held up his hoof, ready to sneeze. The one next to him immediately covered his muzzle while the pony tried to stifle it. All they succeeded in doing was make a loud snort-like noise that made no sense whatsoever in what it was - halfway between a sneeze and a pig’s honk.

Fortunately, it didn’t attract much attention - at first. Then it happened again. Crimson glared at the pony, who sheepishly explained he was allergic to the grass-like plant drenching the forest floor with its leaves. Crimson nodded and almost turned around into a Dom guard. He quickly pulled the guard down and bashed his hoof into the stallion’s face, knocking him out. Conveniently, the guard looked a lot like the red Pegasus. He donned the armor and continued on the guard’s path, making sure that his second-in-command knew what he was doing.

“Hey, you! Sergeant Hawk!” called another guard. Crimson froze, realizing that he’d just impersonated that exact pony. “Go check on the northern cliffs!”

“Then who will guard here?” Crimson called back in his best imitation of Sergeant Hawk’s youthful voice.

“Caffeine will, you idiot. Go do it!”

“Yes, sir!” Crimson whirled around and walked to the northern cliffs, following the road to his destination. He passed under thick scrutiny from the colonel who’d just ordered him to go, but wasn’t called out. As he left the colonel’s earshot, he grumbled, “This is a Changeling’s job.”

The northern cliffs were uninteresting. All they were were rock walls that reached from the lighthouse to the forest. At the top, Crimson leaned over the side to see a camp that stretched for miles along the shore. Being positioned in the extreme left of his regiment, he knew that nopony else knew this even existed.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A lieutenant had walked up behind him.

Crimson mentally told himself not to freeze. It could get him killed. “Yes. Are all of these for the troops when they come in?”

“I wish. Prince Flawless Ice said that he can’t override his father’s decree about labor, but he can at least require us to give them shelter. Waste of logistics, if you ask me, but the King hasn’t said no, so we do it. What’s your rank?”

“Sergeant. Sergeant Hawk, sir.”

“Ah. You got a ways to go before playing with the big boys, but you’re getting there, Hawk. You heard about the flop at Summercrest? If that garrison comes here, we ain’t holding them back with our dinky single-shot muskets. They got repeaters, dammit!” He saw the rifle slung over Crimson’s back. “Is that gun in regs?”

“I hope so.”

The lieutenant bore his gaze into the clouds above as he took a long drag from his cigar. “I’m Earbud, by the way. Lieutenant Earbud. I hear everything that comes through this branch of the Domination Army.”

“Did you hear of the sympathisers to Atlantis?”

“Yep. I don’t know who they are, and I honestly don’t care as long as they do their job and don’t betray the King like the 36th Elites.”

“Yeah, that’s just messed up.”

“I know, right? Say, did you carve your name on your gun? That’s out of regs, you know.”

Crimson unslung his rifle, carefully concealing the AREA symbol and magazine with the way he held it. “I don’t see anything.”

“Flip the damn rifle.”

Crimson did. There it was, “Crimson Dawn” carved into the wood stock. “Oh, this is a family heirloom. Old gun. My grandfather carved that.”

Earbud eyed the name closely, trying to connect it to anything. “Isn’t Crimson Dawn one of those damn Atlanteans who helped the Changelings at Emberforge Valley?”

“I don’t know.”

Earbud lit up. “He is! Who are you, really?”

Crimson looked around, making sure that nopony else could hear him. “If you come with me to the top of the lighthouse, with nopony else up there, I’ll tell you.” With no other way to get information, Earbud agreed, and they had reached the top within minutes. “Alright.” Crimson took off his armor, revealing his Atlantean uniform. “That thing is heavy.” Before Earbud could yell, he whacked the lieutenant upside the head with the butt of his gun. The Dom recovered slowly, helpless as Crimson threw greens and small logs into the brazier’s tiny flames. They took a second to flare up and start spewing lots of smoke into the air. Crimson then lowered the quartz refractors to send a bright signal to his comrades.

Author's Note

This and the next chapter should be released at the same time.

Feedback appreciated.

42. Brute-Tastic (The Battle of Whitecap Point Part 2)

Mirage watched the top of the gray lighthouse through her telescope. Suddenly, a beam filled her vision and she dropped the scope as she recoiled. “Shit, I can’t see!”

“Princess, you need to be qui- Oh, it’s started! Should we go?”

“Yes. I can take care of myself.”

The Changelings burst from the treeline and bulldozed the two nearby Doms, one of them the unlucky Caffeine. They then charged the beach from behind, wiping out every enemy there. By then, Mirage could see again, and she joined her kin.

Treetop saw the Changelings attack, causing him to look at the Dom encampment. A pony fell from the lighthouse and he recentered on the top. He saw Crimson tossing Dom armor over the rail and sending up a lot of smoke. Warrant Dawn must’ve seen an opportunity. Treetop waved his rifle over his head. “FOR ATLANTIS!” he screamed into the growing turmoil, charging at the lumber mill followed by two platoons. They found fillies, mostly, ranging from five to fifteen years old. All of them were probably Dom kids, considering how they reacted to the sudden yell. They ran, hid, and did whatever they could to keep the soldiers from doing anything to them.

The first platoon took cover behind a pile of uncut trees. They fired at a forming line of Doms, trying to disrupt them before they could shoot back. A lot of the Doms were scattered around, shooting back for suppressing fire more than anything, but were slowly picked off by the second platoon.

Treetop just barely held his opponent at bay. This guy was bigger than the average pony and muscled beyond all comprehension. He held a spiked ball and chain with his grossly modified hoof - with several extensions that gripped the chain like a bird’s talons! He’d also trained himself to stand extremely well on only his hind legs, which made him terrifyingly tall and even more deadly.

Treetop ducked, the spiked ball skimming his mane. For a second he thought he was clear. Then his mane got pulled with the ball and he was airborne. The spikes have hooks! As the ball hit the apex of its swing, he was thrown high by the hooks suddenly not digging into his hair. His momentum carried him as high as the lighthouse’s cone-shaped roof and spun, now looking at the ground two hundred feet below him. He searched his equipment for his repeater, which he found still on its sling - Thank Harmony! - and aimed it back at the thing that had sent him unnaturally high for an Earth pony. Treetop fired his entire clip into it.

The pony with the modified hoof just… absorbed the ten bullets that slammed into him. Treetop felt lost as he began free-falling back down. He couldn’t beat that. Nopony in their right mind couldn’t.

Crimson eyed a Dom through his sights. He pulled the trigger and his quarry fell dead. Then Treetop came through his vision and he followed the flying Earth pony, watching as the Colonel flew up, fired off a clip, and began to fall. Crimson spread his wings to go after Treetop.

Treetop watched the ground rapidly approach, filling more and more of his vision. He knew that he couldn’t fly. He couldn’t slow himself down. He couldn’t even cast a teleportation spell to just appear on the ground. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable…

He was going sideways. He opened his eyes and saw that Crimson had caught him. The red Pegasus not used to carrying passengers, they slammed into the dirt at high speed and broke a few bones each. Treetop pulled himself up and limped to Crimson, who’d practically knocked himself out. The Pegasus shook off the tweeting birds after a few moments and stood up. He immediately fell down onto his twisted forelegs, flopped to the side, and reached for his repeater.

“Thanks for that, Warrant.”

“No problem, sir,” Crimson winced. “You can take it from here?”

“Yeah.” Treetop looked back at the battle, noting that the brute was lying on the ground, blood oozing from three dozen different holes. “I’ll send somepony to come get you. Just rest for now; you’ve earned it.”

Crimson nodded, pulling the repeater into a position where he could still shoot the enemy. “Thank you, sir.”

By the time Treetop was back at the front line, the remaining Dominion forces had raised the white flag. Between the two lines of soldiers, the commanders met to draft and finalize the terms of surrender. Treetop was tempted to send Mirage in his place while he bandaged his wounds, but decided it was best to go. He did make sure Crimson had been picked up before he went, however.

“I apologize for not coming to negotiations here immediately,” he said to the Dom commander as he sat down across the table set up there. “I was tending to my regiment’s needs.”

“Which I need to do as well,” he said. “What are your terms?”

“First, I want to know who you were using as labor.”

“I was ordered by my King to use them. They’re the children of all enlisted soldiers stationed in Summercrest and the surrounding area all the way up to Port Snowfall. In fact, the children of each individual ‘top dog’ is here as well, if you can believe it, except mine. Mine were deemed ‘not fit for hard labor’ and…” He trailed off.

“I can’t help you get them back unless I know where they are.”

Tears started streaming down his cheeks. “My son was killed at Emberforge Valley and my daughter is my general’s personal plaything,” he sobbed. “He threatens to kill her if don’t comply.”

Treetop put his hoof on the commander’s shoulder. “We can help. I just need to know what the situation is for everypony here.”

“It’s the same, sir,” the commander’s second-in-command said.

“Well, then, be glad I didn’t authorize lethal force. All your boys out there are just knocked out, maybe except for the guy who fell off the lighthouse.”

“Lieutenant Earbud was the exception. He enforce the rules if we didn’t.”

Mirage came from behind. “Sir, all personnel accounted for. We didn’t lose anypony.”

“Thank you, Mirage. Same thing for the train station?”

“Yes, sir.” Mirage gestured around. “This is a good place for a fort, sir. Easily defensible terrain if you actually look around. The beaches are protected by the reef, so an amphibious assault is nearly out of the question, but not impossible. The forest would make an excellent supply to build the fort out of, and there’s plenty of space. Not to mention that the train station is close enough, so we can get even more material if need be.”

Treetop nodded. “Well, Colonel, I believe I have something for you. We need a defensible fallback, and this spot is pretty damn good. Therefore, my terms are that you and your regiment will build one and defend it from the Dominion to the last. Can you do that? We’ll fold you in with Warrant Janelane’s boys and she’ll stay here with you to make sure it gets done.”

The commander nodded, dry tears matted across his face. “That’s it?”

“Yes. We’ll stay here for a while as well and see if we can regroup with AREA. the only thing left to do is find out where they are.”

“Last thing I heard, your army was bogged down in Haven Cove.”

Treetop perked up. “Haven Cove? That’s not far from Nautinia! Mirage, set up for a long march. I want everyone healed up, ready to rock. Clear?”

“Yes, sir!” Mirage raced back to the Atlantean troops to relay the order.

Author's Note

This chapter should be released at the same time as the previous one.

Feedback appreciated.

43. The Battle of Haven Cove Part 1

General Moonshine Silvercrest waved her short sword in a circle high in the air, yelling for her soldiers to charge. Her usually dazzling white coat was dirty, scratched, and covered in grime. Her cloud-gray eyes scanned the horizon for sudden enemy movement. She rose from her entrenchment and ran at full gallop, followed by the regiment she lead.

AREA was not at its best. Half the army, lead by Sarge, was stuck near the Whispering Mountain Pass into Griffonstone, their backs to the wild winds and freezing blizzards of the mountains. Meanwhile, she and the other half defended Haven Cove from a Dom army that was close to wiping them out. They’d already been pushed back nearly to the town proper. This line was literally the last one before it became an urban fight. If she couldn’t take back the trench in front of her, or at least gain a foothold to drove the Doms away from, she and the six thousand effectives, not to mention twenty thousand incapable of combat in the hospitals, her Medical division, artillery, and logistics would surely be killed.

The charge, however, gallant, didn’t seem successful at first. Then the Atlanteans reached the Dominion line, starting the fight. It became a ripple. The Doms fought furiously, but the Atlanteans even more so. As control over the trench grew increasingly disputed, more AREA regiments poured in, fueled by the growing distraction. Eventually, the Doms were taken out, one by one.

“I’ve never seen them this fanatical,” Silvercrest gasped, leaning on her sword as she took in huge lungfuls of air.

“Neither have I, ma’am,” a soldier said. He too tried to catch his breath. Changing the subject, he said, “Damn, this air is wet. You can smell it.”

“Yes, indeed it is seemingly more humid than the ocean itself.” the General looked around. All around her, weary ponies either gasped for air or stayed still, not breathing at all. A Dom counterattack was unlikely for now; the humidity was hell on the enemy soldiers, who were used to the desert-dry air and occasional large storm in the Dominion. Here in Haven Cove, a squall blew in every other day, with an extra thunderstorm thrown in here and there. She could see today’s rain building up to the southeast now, along with a black pillar to the northeast. Probably a new volcano, she thought.

The air was so humid, in fact, that most of her casualties so far were because of heat stroke, even in midwinter. Their sweat just wouldn’t evaporate into the saturated atmosphere and cool them off, instead sticking to their fur like all insanity. On top of that, it was a nearly constant eighty-eight degrees Marenheit year-round. Silvercrest wondered how the locals could stand it.

Haven Cove was situated a full day’s sail westward of Nautinia going six knots, so almost a hundred fifty nautical miles. The decently sized town was also close to sixty miles south of the Atlantean capital, on the ninety-mile strip of land called the Mega Peninsula. Being closer to the equatorial line, Haven Cove received much hotter temperatures and more storms than other coastal cities like Summercrest, Nautinia, and Cape Heron. The land was practically a mangrove swamp, a massively extensive delta formed from the Harmony Run after its several-hundred-mile descent from the Whispering Mountains. The place was full of mosquitos and smelled of nature at its finest.

Almost everything here was built from fired red clay brick to prevent rotting, even the floors and roofs. Age-old cement held the bricks together, replaced on a regular semi-annual basis. A lone bell tower rang out the time, chiming four times per hour. The newest buildings were made from stone transported from the nearest quarries, as was the Haven Canal, probably the most horribly-named canal in history. If anything, it was not a haven. The tides had a habit of raising and lowering at unpredictable times, causing unlucky sailors to be marooned until they rose again. But it was at the thinnest stretch of land all the Mega Peninsula had to offer, so it had that. It saved at least ten hours of transit time. If only it was slightly farther north, SIlvercrest would like it. This place was a storm magnet, if the weather-worn bricks had anything to say about it.

“Ma’am, we have the numbers,” a Colonel said. “Almost three hundred dead and twice that wounded - from the battle. Another sixty-four got heat stroke.”

“Damn. I hoped it’d be better.” Silvercrest took a long drink from her canteen. The water was warm. She stopped drinking and sighed. “We seriously need more cold water, or ice if we can afford it. Send that down to Logistics.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Silvercrest stared east again. Rumor had it that Atlanta was trying to bring them reinforcements, link them back up with the Second Coastal Regiment. That wouldn’t matter if the humidity killed them all less than three weeks after Hearth’s Warming. Maybe that was the Dom plan: kill them with the liquid of life and walk in.

The volcanic-looking smoke was just barely slightly closer now. That meant it was moving. Moving towards Haven Cove. “Where’s HQ?” Silvercrest asked.

“In the town, ma’am,” another colonel answered.

“Take over here, Colonel. I have something for the guys there to know.”

“We could send a messenger.”

“Nah. I’ll do it. Besides, I need a break from the front lines.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Silvercrest walked to her headquarters building, which happened to be the town hall. It, like the rest of Haven Cove, was made of red bricks and held together with cement. A rich blue Atlantean flag with the AREA seal embroidered on it was draped over the entrance, the bottom about five feet above her head. She nodded to it and walked in.

Inside, it was a much different story than the sun-dried brick out the doors. Everything was lit with dim, flickering candlelight and the few windows had the curtains drawn. The place smelled of candle-smoke and sweat. Everyone here was serious and grim-faced. Altogether, it was depressing compared to the other options they had. But Town Hall was the biggest, most defensible building, not to mention in Haven Cove’s epicenter. It was also not being currently used for much at the time.

Silvercrest ascended the stairwell and walked through the second-floor balcony overlooking the harbor, directly opposite the way she came in. She sighed, feeling the breeze in her mane and the salty aroma in her nostrils, the smallest of ocean spray seemingly washing away the dirt and grime that covered her. After a long day amidst a long siege, the fresh air that blew in from the sea was welcome.

Her reprieve was interrupted by the colonel she put in charge of HQ. “General, is there a reason for your presence?”

“There should be unless I truly don’t have one,” she replied, a bit irritated. “That much is obvious.” Silvercrest gestured to the northwest, where the town’s infrastructure allowed them to see as far as they did. “You see that cloud there? It looks like a volcano’s.”

The Earth pony squinted through his overly big glasses. Colonel “Curiosity” Artifact, known mostly for his ability to find the tiniest details in everything, was insanely nearsighted, which made him perfect for a desk job. Sure, he didn’t know how to lead trained soldiers into battle, but his competence helped him climb the ladder and end up where he was. His task before Silvercrest came to Haven Cove was recruiting; he’d been the CO of the district. His dusty brown coat had virtually no scars, maybe except for the time he accidentally lost his glasses and tumbled down four flights of stairs. He also loved to tell stories about his foalhood, his comrades’ fan favorite being called the “Apple Story,” where he threw a curveball apple at a snotty filly teasing his sister for being a “blank flank.” Everyone had thought the apple would miss, but it instead grazed her across the face, breaking her nose. He got in serious trouble with the teachers, but that filly never made fun of his sister again.

“I see it, ma’am, if a tad fuzzy.”

“That thing was farther away fifteen minutes ago. I don’t know what it is. Do you?”

“Well, it would appear to be coal smoke,” Artifact said, “but we don’t have anything on the high seas that would require coal, now, do we? Coal smoke does imply steam power, so perhaps our Queen has begun turning trains to ships that can go much faster than what we have. Or maybe the Summercrest Project has come to help us.”

“It isn’t the latter. Last I heard, it was still being worked on.”

“Ah. So, therefore, we can assume that Queen Atlanta has begun using the principles found within in order to make advanced warships capable of almost anything.”

“Let’s hope that is the case, then.”

The ship producing the pillar of dark smoke became visible over the horizon even though the evening was in full swing by then. It was metal and it was flying across the water! As it closed the gap between it and Haven Cove, its sharp, knifelike bow was unlike anything Silvercrest had ever seen. The stern crouched low as whatever was beneath it kicked up a six-foot rooster tail. A searchlight tower between the two above-deck sections, but on the rear half, announced the ship’s presence for miles around with its powerful beam of light. The sun’s rays reflected off the bronze upper hull like a bright brownish-orange box of sunlight.

The ship slowed significantly as it neared the harbor entrance, the rooster tail and the wide, frothy wake dying down. A sea-green Atlantean naval jack flew off the foremast (the taller of the two), clearly visible from Silvercrest’s new viewpoint at the naval dock. She hove to and came to a complete stop less than ten feet from the wooden pier. Ponies from both the yard and ship tossed and caught lines to drag the ship closer and lower the gangplank. Quickly and efficiently they worked, securing the lines in a minute. Soon, the standard supply swap was underway and the ship’s commander came out onto the starboard bridge wing. She saluted the general below and signaled that she was coming ashore. A minute later, the two stood facing each other for the first time.

“General Silvercrest, I am Captain Middle Road of the Atlantean Navy.”

“Captain,” Silvercrest said. “I see you’re already familiar with me. Did the Queen fill you in?”

“Yes. She also said that Sarge is coming down from the Whispering Mountains as fast as he can. They should arrive in four days, but they’ll be worn out to hell. What they need is for you to clear a path for them to just barge on through so that they’ll end their journey in friendly lines.”

“What of the Second Coastal?”

“As far as I know, they’re at Whitecap Point.”

Whitecap Point? “How old is this information?”

“About a week or so. Treetop is trying to take back the area nearest Summercrest. It’s a little hard since all the rail lines are controlled by Dominion ‘bandits’ and all communications spells are blocked.”

“That explains a lot. How’d you figure that out?”

“He did a lot of assuming and then found that the regiment trying to take over for him was Dom. It went quite smoothly from there.”

Silvercrest harrumphed. “Of course it did. Treetop is a fine officer.”

“Indeed he is.” Both of them smiled at their agreement.

“So, what ship is this?” Silvercrest asked, turning her attention to the metal vessel riding the waves.

“This, General, is ANS Bats Nightmane, DD-01. She’s the first - and hopefully not last - of the Nightmane class destroyers.”

“Did you just say ‘Bats Nightmane’? As in, Batrocious Nightmane, in the Second Coastal before being killed at Pacifica?” Silvercrest completely ignored the fact that she had no idea what the hell a destroyer even was.

“Yes, ma’am. Harbormaster Nightmane was hit really hard with it, and also amazed at what his son did to protect others, so the boys down in the yards decided to honor the kid. We launched her not two weeks ago.”

“Jeez. that’s a new ship.”

Middle Road chuckled. “Sea trials happened right after she was fitted, which took the full day and a half, ‘round the clock, after her launch. We’re all extremely proud of her.”

“You rushed her fitting?”

“No. Most of it was done while she was still in drydock since she wasn’t going anywhere. Essentially, Nightmane launched with almost everything she needed. The fitting was really the finishing touches we couldn’t get to until she did launch, which wasn’t too much.” Middle Road gestured around. “Looks like you’ve been in more than a pickle.”

“Two of them. Come to HQ with me; I’ve got a ton of things that could use an outsider’s perspective.”

Author's Note

After Haven Cove, I'll have a chapter where Sarge explains his holdup in the Whispering Mountains, which he will refer to as the Whispering Highlands from time to time. In fact, I might do that too. Just remember that those two are the same thing.

Haven Cove's climate was inspired by the ridiculous humidity New Orleans has to offer.

Feedback appreciated.

44. The Battle of Haven Cove Part 2

Middle Road rubbed her forehead. “This is one major pickle.”

Almost the entire northern end of the peninsula was controlled by the Dominion. Red lines signifying enemy ranks on the map were in placed stacked four or even five deep on both ends of their line. A tent marked where the Dom camp was located; a green one stood for the Atlantean HQ. All along the coast, fortifications were duly marked by returning scouts and taken into consideration for every move made.

“Exactly,” Silvercrest replied. “Those damn Doms outnumber us more than five to one and they can hold the ground they take. The casualties we’ve suffered have been indispensable soldiers. We can’t replace them. But for every Dom we kill, they’ve got four more just waiting to get in line. They have the troops, they have the ammo, and they have the food. They could simply sit there forever if they wanted, and they know it.”

“What guns do they have here, about six miles north of here? Artillery-wise.”

The General scratched her head. “Twelves? Maybe twenty pounders? The Doms have some big field guns, that’s for damn sure. All we’ve got are the ten six-pounders from town and a unit of twelves from when we split the army.”

“My main guns have the range, and since R&D figured out the ammo, they’re pumping more out. We can hit them from three miles away, probably farther if you could get us some indirect fire.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea, except that their guns are on hills. They can shoot you from that distance and afford to miss most of the time. Nightmane would get shredded.”

“That’s where a bit of sabotage comes in. if your scouts can get in, they can blow shit up. Take out those guns, and we can beat the shit outta them.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you, Captain, but this shore, the one you you’d need to be off, can’t be sailed. It’s too shallow - only about four feet deep at low tide five miles out.”

Captain Road smiled. “You have no idea what she’s capable of.”

Nightmane rode less than a foot from the bottom of the sea, her round-bottomed hull grinding against the sand as she hit the troughs and lifting free at the crests. Her screws were still. Captain Road had ordered her crew to row the destroyer to within confirmed firing range of their guns, opting to not slam the blades into sand that would most definitely destroy them and leave the ship stranded in dangerously shallow waters. After several hours rowing through the dark hours of the night with only the crescent moon’s silver light to guide them, they dropped anchor and prepared to fire in silence. There was no doubt that they would be shot at as soon as they were discovered.

Three miles to the west, hidden from sight by a fortunately dense morning fog, the Dom fortifications were fast asleep. Dawn passed by without a single alarm being raised. The fog cleared and the afternoon rains drenched the world. All the while, Silvercrest’s scouts were slowly messing around with the Dominion cannons, all primed and ready to fire at a moment’s notice - that was, if they didn’t learn just how much powder was now stuffed into the things.

The next day, as the fog cleared bright and early and the sun rose from the east, making the sea look like orange juice, the Dom flagpole toppled down like a felled tree. The Atlantean who did it ran off faster than a bullet as he yelled “TIIMMMBEEERRRRR!!!” at the top of his lungs.

Immediately, Middle Road lowered her hoof. Both the fore and aft five-inch guns, loaded, primed, and aimed, fired. The resounding booms left a tiny but terrifying dip in the water off Nightmane’s port beam. Two smokeless high-explosive rounds slammed into the earthen mounds, quickly followed by two more that spread the dirt even more evenly across the terrain. Sentries went flying and a couple of the cannons lost their foundation, tumbling to the bottom and spilling their contents.

The Doms had a fast reaction time. One gun crew was already turning their cannon to face Nightmane even as the second salvo rumbled in. Their gunner lit his match, they all stood back, and then the primer was ignited. A spark touched one of the bags of gunpowder. The powder exploded, sending a hot cannonball into the two bags stuffed in front of it and blew the whole cannon to smithereens. An adequately sized fireball mushroomed up from the carnage as other guns suffered the same fate. Within minutes, three quarters of the entire Dom artillery presence in the area was demolished and the rest was too heavily damaged to fight.

Silvercrest watched from a safe distance, shielded from view by the treeline. As soon as Nightmane launched a green flare, she whooped and waved all one hundred fifty of the ponies with her, the only surviving remnants of the Sixth Peninsula, towards the fire and flame, death and destruction. They were all possible casualties she didn’t want, but their sacrifice and hers were needed to defend home.

Home. Seventy percent of the ponies under her half of AREA came from here. This battle meant more to them than another victory. It meant keeping those they loved, so close to harm, from it. It meant protecting their way of life. The fact that their home was being invaded only reinforced that. If they lost now, they lost everything they cared about. This batch of battle-hardened veterans were more than they seemed, and they were more than willing to prove it.

By the time she and the Sixth made it to the center of the earthen fort, everypony had seemingly surrendered to the terrible metal beast out to sea. A white flag was being run up a makeshift flagstaff by two of the fourteen left.

But the other twelve weren’t normal Doms. They were what Silvercrest referred to as “Crazies.” They believed wholly in their cause and would do anything to make it come to life. They were fanatical to the point of near insanity.

One immediately whipped out a poorly crafted bow and loosed an arrow as soon as he saw her. It bounced off her helmet and she shot her new(ish) pistol at him in return. The remaining eleven tried to ambush the Atlanteans but were easily taken down. Silvercrest’s troops suffered three light wounds, not enough to cripple them. The General imagined a bright future in mopping up the rest of the Dominion’s army, especially now.

Author's Note

I don't have much to say today.

Feedback appreciated, like always. It helps me become better at writing.

45. Weary Trails

Sarge held a telescope with one hoof as he jotted down notes with the other. He and a few scouts stood on a bluff overlooking the Harmony Run Delta, where the river spread out across the northern end of the Mega Peninsula. Half a day’s hard gallop west-northwest of them, an extremely weary AREA camped in the rocky highlands that stretched from the Whispering Mountains to the bluffs encircling Nautinia. They’d been going so long and hard that all of them, Sarge included, had fainted of exhaustion at least once. Medical was constantly busy dealing with heat stroke and dehydration, both camped and on the move.

“Tomorrow, we camp here. Private Grassfield, relay that, will you? There’s plenty of shade in the trees in the area and we’ve got ourselves a good view of the peninsula. Make sure you get water when you get there,” Sarge said as he put the scope down and closed it in on itself. “The Harmony Run falls off the highlands about half an hour’s walk to the east, so we’ll have clean fresh water and the boys can take a swim. That’ll raise morale by a long shot. Corporal Terra, how are we looking on supplies?”

“Food’s low, sir,” Terra said as Grassfield hurried back to the main army. “Water as well, but the Run should fix that. Medical needs clean bandages and new surgical tools fast. The ones they have are all but gone. As for their ice packs, they’ve all thawed. Again, the Run can help us with cold water. Ammo’s down to sixty rounds per, including officers. The repeaters Queen Atlanta sent us never arrived where she said they would; in fact, the party sent there never came back. That supply round was supposed to get us back to full on ammo.”

“Damn. Are communications spells still blocked?”

“Yes, sir,” the green Unicorn replied.

“Does Silvercrest even know we’re coming? Did our scout get to Atlanta? Where the hell is Treetop? I have so many questions that can’t be answered because the Doms can block us!” Sarge stomped his hoof down in frustration, leaving a horseshoe-shaped dent in the dirt.

“Sir, we can only hope Private Temporal made it.”

“I know.” Sarge gestured to the delta before them. “If it wasn’t so damn hot around here in midwinter, I would never have left for the army. The climate around Starsong was a lot more forgiving.”

A day later, a full third of the army was sleeping, another third expectantly awaiting the end of their shifts, and the final third goofing around in the river. So many were playing, in fact, that Sarge had no possible hope of disciplining them if things went haywire.

Sarge walked into the tent reserved for Medical to check on the tired doctors and field nurses. Unsurprisingly, only half of them were on duty, one of them being Nurse Lieutenant Thorn. She’d practically run Medical after they lost their chief at Emberforge Valley. Even with all that paperwork, she was still able to find time to do her duty as a medical officer, treating the wounded and comforting the dying. Luckily, it was usually the former.

“Good morning, ma’am. It’s gonna be another hot one today.”

Rose Thorn looked up from her old, battered tools. “Indeed, sir.” She picked up a scalpel and ran a stone down the notched blade, sharpening it. “You need something, sir?” she asked when he didn’t leave.

“Not really, Lieutenant. I’m simply doing my job.”

“I see. Do you know when we can expect new tools?”

Sarge shook his head. “Sorry, Thorn, but I don’t think your request even made it to the Nautinia supply depot. If it did, they haven’t come through.”

Rose Thorn nodded and put the scalpel down. They both stood where they were for a few minutes, letting an uneasy silence grow.

“How’s Watermelon?” Sarge asked out of the blue.

Rose picked at the ground. “He’s not doing too well, sir. His leg has healed fine, but his fever won’t drop. I’ve narrowed the probable causes down to either malaria or a really bad case of influenza. I really hope it’s not the former. Pepper should be back with her analysis in a minute or so; she’s been looking real hard at it.”

Another quiet minute, and a spotted mare opened the tent flap to the “emergency care” section of the hospital tent. She had the white, gray, and black of a salt-pepper mix, and her gray mane and tail were thin and frail. Her worried eyes were a light salty gray, still in their prime after twenty-five years. She smelled faintly of spice, as was her special trade, with a light sprinkling of perfume that fitted her spice-leaf cutie mark well. Her pointed ears were low as if she carried a heavy, sorrowful burden, and her eyelids nearly caved in to sleep.

“Lieutenant Thorn, I have the final analysis,” she said with notable thickness in her voice. “Private Watermelon won’t live the day. His fever broke one-ten earlier this morning and we just barely brought it back down in time. He has a severe case of somethin’ I ain’t never seen before, ma’am, and I can’t do nothin’ about it.”

Suddenly, a nurse-in-training popped her head through the tent flap. “Ma’am, it’s Melon. He’s spazzing out!”

Rose, Pepper, and Sarge hurried into the mostly empty emergency care, past a stallion sleeping off a healing spell fixing his dented skull and the nurse who watched over him. They reached the seventh bed on the left, where Private Melon jerked around and strained against imaginary straps holding him down. Sarge stood back to watch the two professionals do their thing. The nurse who’d told them stood next to him, unable to help, unwilling to get in the way.

Pepper prepared a small bottle of sleep medicine; this was her last one. She administered to Melon while Rose held him still. Once she was done, Rose popped a thermometer in her patient’s mouth to take his internal body temperature once more. It was dropping down to eighty Marenheit - too low! She cast a heating spell, bringing him back to a good ninety-eight. After he stabilized, they both sighed in relief.

“He’ll have a helluva headache when he wakes, but he’ll live,” said Rose. she ignored Sarge’s wondered staring at her sides, where it looked like pink wings had formed for a split second as she cast her spell.”

“Did you… grow wings, Lieutenant?”

“No. That was just a particularly costly spell in the way of magic, so my sudden, intense concentration may have made it look like I have wings for a brief moment in time. But no, sir, I did not grow wings through my jacket in those five seconds.”

“Tell me when you do.”

“I will,sir.”

After that harrowing experience, Rose spoke no more to anypony about the possibility of her sprouting wings. She simply did her job and let the matter die. But that night, as she crawled into bed, Rose shedded her medical jacket, letting it fall to the tent floor. She stretched out two wings the color of her coat and felt them pop a crick here and there, relieving tension and making her whisper “Ahhh.” They’d been folded uncomfortably under her jacket all week, where there were no special pockets for them to stay snug. Her preened any loose feathers, which there were extremely few of, and folded them once again in a way that concealed them as she climbed into her sleeping bag and went to sleep.

Author's Note

Well, that sums up this chapter. Wow, I'm tired.

That eclipse was pretty cool, wasn't it?

Anyway, feedback is welcomed once again.

46. Two Halves Make A Hole

Silvercrest howled ecstatically. Across the marshy land that covered most of the Mega Peninsula, a beacon of success glowed brightly into the early morning. Sarge had arrived and was battering the small regiment of Doms left between them. She’d been weakening them for her own assault with artillery, but the infamous middle-aged stallion still knew how to grasp an opportunity. Even now, his personal banner flapped wildly as its bearer waved around in glee.

Beyond that hill Sarge was now taking - it’s more of a mound, now that I think about it - was the lost half of AREA. The silver-colored general knew her counterpart probably thought the same thing about her own worn-out troops. After three months in the blistering heat and soaking humidity the hung around Haven Cove, all celebration would be well worth it.

A few hours later, the two commanders saw each other for the first time in four months and struggled to hold back their emotions. But, keeping their composure, they simply smiled at the other.

“General, I’d like to report the successful defense of the Whispering Mountain Pass and its neighboring town of High Frostgar,” Sarge finally said, saluting the silver Pegasus.

“As would I the successful defense of Haven Cove. We knew you were coming, by the way. Atlanta sent a the message via ship.”

“Temporal made it!” A wave of relief swept over Sarge and he wiped away a tear before Silvercrest saw it.

“Come on, Sergeant. You’ll want to see our messenger.”

“You were right. Pardon me, ma’am, but that’s fucking awesome.”

The two stood on the Haven Cove naval dock, watching Nightmane roll up and down as the small waves below her slapped against the nearby shore.

Captain Road was most taking her leave at the moment, but that didn’t matter. Her XO filled in for her quite easily, and Silvercrest suspected he would be given command of the destroyer when she returned to Summercrest. As he explained Nightmane and her capabilities to Sarge, Silvercrest eyed a hazy form on the horizon. Finally, she asked about it.

The two stallions turned to look east. Whatever the thing was, it was best to know if it was hostile or not, especially with the Atlantean Navy spread out across the sea as it was. Nightmane’s executive officer hurried aboard and sounded general quarters. The bell’s dull clangs echoed across the brackish water, waking up anyone still asleep this late in the day. Even as her crew filtered aboard, Nightmane’s boilers were brought up to high pressure and her gun crews raced to their stations. Her wooden deck shuddered with stampeding hooves that threatened to drown out the alarm.

Captain Road raced up a stairway onto the bridge, preceded by her loud “As you were!” Her unkempt mane displayed a restless night and a late morning. “What’s the problem, Exec?”

“Unknown ship on the horizon, ma’am,” he replied. “Thought we should check it out before she got too close to the harbor.”

“Alright.” She pulled on her mane with a comb she’d brought with her. “Damn. I should’ve gotten up earlier.”

As it was, the vessel was a messenger from Nautinia bearing news of the Second Coastal’s success in taking back Whitecap Point. Also there were orders for recapturing and securing the main supply lines. From current intel, there was an entire army between them and the switch network near Athene Plateau, where all western Atlantean rail lines went through.

When Silvercrest and Sarge saw the notes, they immediately conferred to the other the significance of Athene Plateau’s rail yard and the plausibility of gaining control. They already had Pacifica back from the Doms, with formidable defensive works now in place around the railroad city. It was quickly decided that, no matter the cost, Athene Plateau was AREA’s main priority. Meanwhile, the scattered remnants of the main Atlantean Army, which had suffered so many massive defeats that let the Doms walk freely through Atlantis, would attempt to secure the rail lines. That their incompetent commanders could do.

The army prepared to move out over the course of the next few days, gathering supplies and recruiting personnel to supplement the battered regiments. After the Battles of Mega Peninsula and Haven Cove, recruitment wasn’t a problem.

They marched north under a pall of afternoon rain. As the soaked, flapping banners wandered farther and farther from Haven Cove, Nightmane grew ever more distant to the southeast, finally lost from view as her escort of AREA ended. After her iron hull disappeared, she turned due east to head back to Nautinia and then Summercrest, her fuel bunkers just full enough to make the trip.

Sarge lead the vanguard, pushing far and fast to reach Athene Plateau in four days. The place was a full week’s standard march west-northwest of Pacifica, meaning it sat three days south of Emberforge Valley and five northwest of Nautinia. Silvercrest, on the other hoof, commanded the slower main portion of the army. She still hoped to make it within the week. If only Colonel Treetop could show up, then she wouldn’t worry about the coming battle. Her former regiment was the cream of the crop.

After a week of double-marching, scouting, and hearing thousands of complaints, General Silvercrest set her eyes on the plateau ahead. It wasn’t actually much higher than the surrounding terrain, but it was clear and a lot flatter. The formerly busy rail yard was spread out across it, blanketing the land in a maze of rails, switches, sidings, sheds, and side tracks. Four strategically placed control towers usually directed traffic, but they currently provided excellent sniping posts from what she could see. Boxcars and steam locomotives bound for other Atlantean cities were being “inspected,” which seemed to involve raiding or breaking.

The voice of one of Sarge’s runners reached her ears. She listened to his message, then sent him back with a reply. From what the gruff stallion had inferred, a frontal assault, though most likely expected by the enemy, might prove most effective since there was no cover between his position and the yard. Any attacks induced would need to be quick unless they wanted artillery pieces meant for their use to blast them apart.

Silvercrest brought her part of the army to Sarge. For three hours, she watched the Dom positions for any pattern to their movement. They didn’t appear to notice the Atlanteans outside; either that, or they believed an attack would be a useless gesture of resistance that would be squashed underhoof like a bug. She planned the assault for dawn, when the sleepyhead sentries were most likely to be taken out quickly.

The sun had yet to creep over the horizon; the sky was dark. Among the trees sparsely placed around the rail yard, the many Atlantean regiments lay in wait. The artillery opened up, belching light gray smoke and choking their crews. Their flashes lit the early hours with orange and yellow fire. Round shot screamed through the air and slammed into the ground all around the yard, cratering dirt and punching cars.

The Doms began replying. Their accurate fire was more suppressive than anything, trying to prevent a ground assault from happening. They knocked down an oak here and there, but mostly created holes in the dirt and sending clouds of dust in the air.

For an hour, the artillery duel continued, neither side really gaining an advantage over the other. The tower nearest the to-be point of contact collapsed as stray shots blew holes into its support structure. A short-lived pillar of dust remained until it dispersed throughout the area.

Finally, the order was relayed down from Silvercrest and Sarge that the time was right. The regiments formed just behind the artillery, now silent for the first time all morning. The relative silence threatened to deafen everyone.

Officers waved their troops forward. For a single tense moment, nopony moved. Then they broke into a full gallop across the sparse vegetation, trying to get close enough fast enough. Most of them succeeded.

The two commanders had aimed perfectly: their charge collided with the hasty Dom fortifications dead center. At first, only a couple ponies waved their banners above the boxcar wall, then more. Soon, half of AREA was on search-and-destroy mode, systematically taking out Doms from an ever-expanding circle in the middle of the yard. Since the Dominion’s raiders had never expected an attack, even after a week across a field from Sarge, they were almost no match for the veteran soldiers of the Atlantean Reserve Emergency Army.

Silvercrest looked at Sarge, whose recurring headache was attended to by Corporal Terra, his personal favorite from the scout group when going down to Haven Cove. “Two halves make a whole, don’t they, Sarge?” she smiled.

“A hole in their line, ma’am,” he gruffly replied. There was a hint of satisfaction in his voice when he said it.

Author's Note

Sorry this took so long. A bit of writer's block, I guess. Also, I'm rewriting a non-pony story I have, so that's taking quite some time.

This is the 46th chapter to this story, along with over 69,000 words. Damn. That is long compared to my other stories here - Homefront is 60,000! (But this is still longer, so my statement isn't false)

No, the chapter title does not have a typo.

Feedback appreciated.

47. Industry

Prince Flawless Ice of the Dominion stared at the piece of paper held delicately in his hooves. It was a report from his father’s - he never considered the Domination Army his own - general in charge of freezing the Atlantean supply lines. Both Whitecap Point and Athene Plateau had been compromised, and AREA was still on the loose somewhere in Atlantis. This gave Flawless the notion that the Atlantean Reserve Emergency Army had split in at least two pieces, and that each piece was bound to gather more.

“You can give this to my father,” he said, clearing the soldier standing nervously before him and giving him the paper. “Just don’t elaborate if you want to keep your head.” The prince blanched at the thought of the last unlucky pony to give King Jagged Edge bad news. That was a most disturbing day indeed.

“Yes, sir,” the soldier gulped. He walked through the great double doors to the throne room as Flawless ended his shift as guard.

Flawless clambered up his treehouse to look over the city of Amyfalone, the shining jewel of the Dominion, and the adjacent naval shipyard not even he was allowed to visit. Raising a telescope to his eye, he could see a large metal construction, with sleek gray sides and a single towering orange funnel. It had no high-tech weapons aboard, like the rumored Summercrest Project, instead being armed with several dozen sixty-pounders per side, four buried in the bow, and two on the fantail. Alongside the metal monstrosity, four more sat in varying stages of construction. He wasn’t sure if any of them would float, but his father seemed to be guardedly ecstatic about the idea, so they probably would.

Metal ships, also partially built, would act as escorts for the bigger vessels when they were launched. The belief was that not only bigger was better, but also numbers would succeed. Flawless knew the opposite was true, however, having seen the brave Atlantean resistance, surrounded and outnumbered as it was, on the first day of the Battle of Emberforge Valley more than a year ago.

Lost Legacy appeared beside him. “Those are some big-ass ships.” He caught himself mere moments after the words left his mouth. “Sorry, Flawless.”

“Yes, they are indeed. And look at those smaller ones down there! Father’s trying to build an iron navy, like the Atlanteans are, before they reach full capacity. His boys are sucking all the metal they can from the enemy supply lines, as far as I can tell, and we may have a very big problem when it becomes time to pay up.”

“Pay up? I’m no fanatic, but I don’t remember the Dominion ever paying back for what we took.”

“If they win this war, they’re gonna come knocking on our door. If they lose, then we’ll have to send stuff over anyway. Either way, we pay up for taking all that stuff.” Flawless stared to the south. “Given my father’s maniacal ideals, I seriously hope they sink these new ships. I can do nothing except warn them, and even that’s risky.”

“Well, if the rumors are true, the Summercrest Project is one large ship. Using large against large should work… right?”

“Not necessarily, Lost,” the prince said. “Not necessarily.”

Captain Middle Road watched the buzz of activity at the Summercrest Shipyard's massive central drydock. Inside the wide basin, the alien cruiser Indianapolis was undergoing an overhaul to all of her systems and lower hull. Sparks flew in all directions as welders and metalworkers took the ship apart and put her back together. Out to sea, beyond the yard, Nightmane steamed out for her morning patrol as Cape Lune sailed in.

The Fireheart corvettes Cape Lune and Sundering Sea had finally floated their sunken sister Neptune, plugged her holes, and towed her wallowing hulk to the yards the day before Captain Road returned aboard Nightmane. Currently, Neptune was being cleaned and refitted for duty, this time with an experimental steam engine in her belly. Her twin-screw setup, based off of the cruiser’s, was a little wide for her, but they’d make it fit. After she was completed, Neptune would become one of the most technologically advanced warships in the world. General hope wanted her to sail to Equestria, pick up steel from the Manehattan harbor, return with a full load, and repeat. It wouldn’t be that hard; keeping her reasons secret would be. Princess Celestia had enjoyed peace for almost a millennium, and, although peace was best, would be all too eager to hop in on Atlantis’ side if she knew why they needed the material. Protecting the rights of ponies was great and all, but Equestria’s military involvement, not to mention inexperience, would only add to the chaos.

Indianapolis’ flying machine droned overhead, once again piloted by the crazy stallion Seagull. Fuel for the thing had become tight, but a refinery had been set up for the cruiser, and modifications were being made to accommodate the different type - Seagull said the manual referred to some higher “octane rating” - that the machine needed. Neither had any idea what it meant, but Seagull assumed it was talking about how refined the fuel was. As for what the fuel was in the first place, because it was obviously organic and could therefore be found in nature, that was a tricky question until somepony mentioned Haven Cove’s reeking swamp and the sticky black tar found within. Once it was poured into Indianapolis’ boilers, they immediately tried to remove all the gunk that didn’t burn, deciding to refine it beforehoof to keep it clean. Summercrest was quickly becoming a naval industrial powerhouse with all the advancements made.

And yet, even with everything that was being done, Middle Road felt that they had just taken a giant leap forward, only to take two steps back. Both metal ships were especially high maintenance, not the least of which being paint, and the metal they needed was being shunted to Nautinia R&D - or, at least, it should be. The Nautinia Naval Yards were also being upgraded to construct iron ships and even bigger (although wooden) flat-topped vessels to transport and service virtual carbon copies of the flying machine Seagull loved to fly so much.

Beyond the cruiser, towering cranes lowered heavy planks into position for two more new construction frigates, named Pioneer and America, respectively. Alongside Neptune, they would make up the first ships of the steam-powered Pioneer-class vessels. After they were launched, yet two more were planned to take the high seas: Pearl and Trailblazer. They had plenty of the ridiculously abundant “swamp oak” trees, coming in from nearby loggers and the now-Atlantean-controlled Whitecap Point facility, and the ponies to do it.

While sailing ships with steam engines were amazing, rumor had it that Atlanta was building her own Nightmane-class destroyers in Nautinia, taking advantage of the better accommodations in Nautinia. Even better, they were using the techniques developed here in Summercrest, improving them along the way! More deployed ships sailed into both ports every day, adding to the ragtag collection of naval power ready to face whatever the Dominion was cooking up.

Middle Road stared across the harbor, taking in the small forest of masts that made up thirteen Atlantean frigates and ships of the line. After several-year deployments, each ship was under refit, but she was definitely glad to have them nonetheless.

“Captain, news from Nautinia!” Chief Petty Officer Tie Dye exclaimed as she bounded down the way. “They figured out the ray-dee-oh! We should expect a large shipment at the station soon unless we can spare a ship.”

“Are the rail lines between here and there safe?” the captain asked.

“Treetop said he’ll send over a couple dozen guys to protect them on route, then we’re on our own. It’s all he can do from Fort Azure without violating the Queen’s direct order to take a break. They’re headed off to AREA within the week.”

“That should be sufficient, though with our present guard…” Middle Road trailed off for a second. “It’s fine. They love Warrant - I mean Lieutenant - Janelane and her detachment would never betray us, especially since doing this keeps their kids safe from the Dom wrath.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tie Dye briefly scanned the southern horizon, past where Nightmane patrolled. Suddenly, a red flare shot into the air, followed by two more. All three originated from the destroyer. Beyond her, a hazy shape that originally looked like a massive low-lying cloud no longer did. Middle Road remembered that a small volcanic island had been forming far out sea for quite some time, but stalled for years just before it broke the surface at least three hundred miles away.

All around them, the water visibly vibrated with a roar louder than ten airplanes. As a wide blue shape began to show itself, causing the southern horizon to rise, Middle Road’s eyes widened in absolute horror. She bolted for higher ground, screaming soundlessly at yard workers to do the same.

Author's Note

School is really killing me right now. 2 AP classes are loading me down, along with Java Programming I. Hopefully, I can still get more out soon.

Feedback appreciated.

48. Natural Disaster

Aboard ANS Nightmane, the most technologically advanced Atlantean-built ship in the world, Harbormaster Nightmane was enjoying himself. He’d coordinated the actual construction of the ship, and he loved seeing his creations come to life. Sure, it was dull when the only thing to do was go out on patrols, but he didn’t care. The sea was calm, no squalls in sight, no natural wind to feel. The destroyer sliced through the waves with ease.

A voice came down from the lookout: “Sir, there’s something screwy to the south. Can you confirm?”

“I’m not sure if we can, lookout,” the talker replied. “What’re you looking at?”

“The horizon. If you look behind us, Summercrest is horizontal. Look forward, and it ain’t.”

A roiling cloud of smoke and ash finally reached a height where the lookout could see it. “Sweet Harmony! That’s a big smoke hat!”

Nightmane eyed the horizon for a moment more, then felt the vibrating ocean reverberate off the iron hull. “Sound General Quarters! Red flare!” he yelled. After it fired: “Two more!”

As the massive, curling wave tore through the sea at incredible speed, Nightmane slammed the bell to “ahead flank” and felt the stern bite down while the wave’s trough rapidly approached. The angle of the deck getting steeper and steeper with each second, he wondered if the beautiful ship would survive. Then the sky was just barely blotted out ahead of him, and the bow plunged into the crest of the tsunami.

Hundreds of ponies abandoned their posts and ran. Some climbed onto houses, others reached high ground, yet others still tried to outpace the speeding tsunami. All work on the ships was put on hold as a literal wall of water rushed over the shipyard and smashed equipment. Some places, like Town Square, were higher than the rest of the land, and were immediately swamped with refugees.

Middle Road didn’t know how she and Tie Dye made it to the top of the Summercrest police headquarters. All she could wager was that she wasn’t going to drown, unlike whoever was unlucky enough to be still in the shipyard, and that the place was wrecked. Soon, Janelane found her way to the captain and began coordinating rescue operations from the stranded rooftop.

The tsunami itself hadn’t lasted long; it was more of an instant destruction thing. The recovery, on the other hoof, was going to last months if not years. Most of the thirteen newly arrived ships were shoved around after being spun like corkscrews. Some had ended up in the streets, whereas others were turned turtle. Indianapolis, tough as she was with all that steel plating, had been battered remorselessly by the water and Pioneer’s incomplete hull now banged against her port side. Twisted steel and smashed planks were everywhere.

One of the luckiest boats of all time, still floating buoyantly in the debris-strewn water, took survivors off roofs and transported them to dry land. Its crew was soaking wet and exhausted. Their emergency rations were probably all spoiled - in fact, no piece of food seemed edible anymore.

Middle Road whipped her head left to find the Cape Lune Lighthouse. She was horrified by the sight. The masterfully masoned granite had been chipped and in some places demolished, leaving ugly scars and holes in the once-smooth tower. Water dripped from the railing around the large brazier light reflectors. The few ponies who made it up there were easily visible as they picked their way across a slippery floor. Suddenly, with a loud groan, the lighthouse base crumpled from the unexpectedly-wet sand and the whole structure tilted tantalizingly close to ten degrees. Then a block of granite slipped from between the blocks above and below it, and the tower crashed into the sea. Middle Road hoped the screams of terror she heard were just imagined.

“Has anypony seen Nightmane?” Tie Dye asked. Middle Road darted around the roof in fear, hoping to see the small ship, still existent if not afloat. For several long minutes, the two searched and searched the area from their perch.

“There she is!” Janelane cried, pointing south. The two naval officers whirled around to look where she was pointing.

“Oh, Harmony,” Tie Dye breathed.

Nightmane looked like hell. Every single one of her gunports were bashed in, along with her portholes and windows. Her sluggish movement stood testimony to the fact that she was indeed underwater for a brief moment, flooding her to the brink. Even now, ponies bailed as a slow alternative to the knocked-out steam pumps. Both anchors had been torn from their dripping chains. Her deck was covered in wounded and swimmers clambering up the boarding nets. The two majestic funnels had been completely removed from the ship, along with both masts, the ray-dee-oh antenna, crow’s nest, lifeboat davits, the new rowboat launch, and the forward five-inch naval rifle.

On the barely-standing port bridge wing, Harbormaster Nightmane could be seen, waving his left hoof at them. Middle Road returned the favor and relaxed a bit. This was definitely going to be a massive effort, and she needed every experienced pony she could get.

Nightmane’s crew dragged ropes from belowdecks and tied the destroyer to the twisted metal Indianapolis’ complex mast array still standing. The flooded ship slowly floated more buoyantly as bucketfuls of murky water went over the side.

Seagull’s small airplane droned overhead, slowly burning what was left of its fuel as he circled around, searching for a safe place to land. The stallion finally figured out his spot and he spiraled, flared the nose, and splashed down where the bay was expanded. With a whoop of approval from his spectators, Seagull killed the engine and climbed onto the wing, bowing ridiculously low.

“Meeting on Nightmane,” Middle Road said. “As soon as we can.”

It took half an hour, but Summercrest’s military and civilian leaders were gathered in Nightmane’s wardroom. The discussion quickly transformed into a roar of commotion as speculation bounced off of the walls.

“This is an act of sabotage by the Domination Navy!” one pony loudly proclaimed. Many others agreed with him.

“It was a natural event, one that we knew would happen eventually!” Mr. Nightmane replied, just as vocal and adamant as his opposition.

Eventually, Middle Road had enough. “SILENCE!!!” she roared, standing up and banging her hoof on the wardroom table as she did so. The argument instantly died down. “Thank you.” She quieted herself to an indoor volume. “Look at what we know. A large wave just slammed into Summercrest. Practically everypony who wasn’t on high ground either died or was lucky enough-” she nodded at Governor Physics Psych- “to have been close to our governor’s residence, which was promptly shielded by magic. Now, using your brains, can one of you tell me what causes massive waves like this one?”

Nightmane spoke up. “I have to know the dangers of the ocean as harbormaster. It’s my duty. As such, I can say with confidence that, in history, this specific disaster comes from when the earth shakes far away.” He held a moment of silence for effect. “Or when a volcanic island collapses in on itself. I believe that, with the Celestial Sea’s southern half dotted with volcanic islands, the second option is the most likely.”

“So what do we do?” asked the stallion who’d blamed the Dominion earlier. “We can’t fight nature. It goes against the natural harmony of the world.”

“We adjust.” Middle Road glanced at the seventeen ponies in the wardroom - Tie Dye, Nightmane, Physics Psych, Seagull, Janelane, and Summercrest Police Chief Skittlebug to name a few - and smiled. “We do not come from a line of quitters. Nightmane, your wife is descended from an ancient Equestrian thestral family, while your own forefathers fought alongside Long Haul 300 years ago to free Atlantis. Seagull, you and your siblings are risk-takers, following in the hoofsteps of your persistent, inventive grandfather. Skittlebug, you and your family have always been at the forefront of local public service projects. Governor, your own son is fighting alongside his brethren to protect our freedom. This is not the time to quit. We rebuild Summercrest, from the ground up if we have to. We continue to defend our home from invasion. Because this isn’t just about us. This is about the accomplishments of our ancestors. Were they all for nothing, or can we make them proud?

“Nightmane, I want you to refit Nightmane. Get the steam engines online, get at least one funnel working, rebuild anything that’s broken. Take some stuff from Indianapolis if you need. Seagull, keep that plane rumbling and use some of the stores from Nightmane for fuel. You’re our patrol. Governor, Chief, your job is to coordinate all civilian recovery efforts. Jane, keep the peace. Tie Dye, fix our fleet,” the captain ordered. When she was done, she asked, “All clear?”

“You’ve got it!” came the chorused reply.

With the help of magic, the floodwaters drained quickly. The wrecked shipyard once again became a beehive of activity as ponies worked to restore it as quickly as they could. Many of the recently-arrived ships had to be dragged back out of the town proper, but most of them would be serviceable again. The streets were clogged with destroyed furniture and household appliances, which were scheduled to be reused wherever they would lessen material requirements. Otherwise, the ruined stuff was just in the way and would land in a temporary landfill.

Communications with Nautinia told them that the capital city was hit as well but not as severely. Food reserves were going out to both Summercrest and the unprepared Haven Cove within the week. The radio shipment arrived without a hitch, which was good news indeed - saltwater corroded the equipment like hell.

After a long week of rushed reconstruction and chaotic recovery, Middle Road sat in Indianapolis’s bridge and sighed, listening to the 24/7 noise that surrounded the shipyard. It would be a long road, especially with the war going on, but they’d make it. Neptune was almost ready to set sail again and get supplies at Manehattan. In fact, she’d been a priority since the recovery began. Now, the converted steam frigate sailed out of the bay into the sunset. After sea trials, Neptune was headed west.

Author's Note

Sorry this took a while. I have a lot going on. I guess I'm also losing steam on this project, but I'll manage.

Feedback appreciated.

49. Resupply

The regular click-clack of the train was constant as it moved through the Atlantean countryside. Untouched farms and buildings dotted the landscape. Cows and sheep wandered in their pastures, while their owners herded them to lakes and streams for sustenance.

Crimson walked towards the rear of the train, past his friends - and to an extent, his family. Platinum and Southern Lights were teaching an interested Mirage to play poker. Treetop had dozed off in the sleeper car. Other officers waved to him as he passed them him the dining car, then went back to their food. Some of the more musical ponies played their instruments.

On the flatcars, lined up behind the diner, new artillery was packed butts to nuts. These pieces were rifled - a significant advancement over the smoothbores AREA employed - and came complete with special rounds and crews trained to use them. The big guns were breechloaders as well, which improved their reloading time by several minutes. This train was hauling a fully stocked unit of 12.

Artillery Captain Twister walked up from his spot near the nearest gun’s breech. If it weren’t for this breeze, we’d be sweating buckets out here,” he commented. “But my boys don’t feel like moving in there with you guys.”

“Is it a rookie thing? The Second has been through quite a lot,” Crimson replied.

“Most likely. I mean, you guys have been in this since the war started! You have experience. On the other hoof, my artillery crews are ragtags from those who couldn’t run the distance but could haul huge loads. The difference is huge.”

“You really want to know why we’re still around? It isn’t just the experience. It’s because we’ve become a family over this last year and a half. We’ve been in and out, assisted Changelings, rallied behind each other, and held the line because the guy next to us is like our brother. It’s a bond that shines best in war. Camaraderie is like no other bond you feel.”

“I believe you.” Twister looked at the blurry grassland beside the speeding train. “But can my unit do the same?”

“I’m pretty sure you will. You have to if you want to win.” Crimson smiled. “We all do.”

Twister looked from the grassland to the shiny green artillery and back again. “It’d be a shame if this area was in the warzone. Such a pretty place to live.”

Crimson squinted as if he could see trenches and smoke-belching cannons, thousands of struggling ponies, and the flags of Atlantis and the Dominion on opposite ends of the field, all under a dark, smoldering sky. “Yeah. This place would be desolated.”

General Silvercrest grinned from ear to ear as the long train pulled into the Athene Plateau rail yard. The Second Coastal was finally reunited with AREA, and they’d brought some new toys. During the relative peace while they waited, the army had retaken the lines to the west and south, while the actual Atlantean Army wrested control of the eastern and northern lines. Guerilla warfare seemed to be the best tactic the regular army was capable of using - unlike standard defensive works and firing lines, the Atlantean Army followed in the hoofsteps of their predecessors 300 years ago, mirroring the hit-and-run the long-dead revolutionaries had so well perfected.

As the regiment departed their ride, the artillery was unloaded by ramp and wheeled into position. Twelve rifled cannons were ready to move out before the accompanying soldiers.

Treetop saluted Silvercrest when they met face-to-face. He still had a limp from his flight at Whitecap Point, as did Crimson, but he still needed to report in. “Ma’am, everything and everyone has arrived safely. What do we do next?”

He’s more straight to the point now. His solo expedition must’ve done that, Silvercrest thought. Clearing that from her mind, she said, “It’s good to see you in one piece, Colonel. I trust you’ve learned why Earth ponies don’t fly?”

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am, I did.”

Silvercrest had to laugh. “Alright, we have a list of tasks longer than the damn ocean is wide. Sarge has kept them off the Highlands, so that part’s cleared, but we still need to wipe the Inland Swamp and mop up in the Canyon.” As she spoke, Sarge had approached from behind the general. Acknowledging him,she said, “Sarge will take the Swamp. I’ll head toward Port Snowfall, where they’ve most likely gained their best hoofhold. That’ll leave you to deal with the Canyon. Can you do that, Treetop?”

The colonel gulped. “General, the Canyon is seventy miles long, flows west to east, and is home to rapids that rival the Neighagra Falls in Equestria. I need more than one regiment to take it, and a couple of actual medics would be invaluable.”

“I know. Which is why I’ve elected to give you the Third Coastal and two of the nurses from the hospital tent. The Third is fairly green, but it did well here. You’ll meet up with the Canyon Rangers from the Highlands and sweep east. Lethal force is authorized, as per usual.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sarge held Treetop back after Silvercrest left. “I was worried you’d been killed, brother.”

“You too, Rolling. I guess it comes with the army, huh?”

“Just don’t try to be a Pegasus, Treetop, and you’ll be fine.”

“I know, Rolling. I may be the little brother, but I can handle myself.”

As the colonel walked back to rejoin his regiment, Sarge whispered to himself, “That’s what worries me.” He turned to his own part of AREA to prepare for the campaign on the Swamp.

Rose Thorn wiped the sweat off her brow with an old, dirty rag for the last time. She was overseeing the transfer of hospital supplies from the train to her workspace. Dozens of new blades, a restock of her entire medicine cabinet, and clean towels were just some of the items Nautinia was finally able to send, and she was prepared to hoard them if it became necessary. In the meantime, she had to make sure everything was accounted for while packing for a trip. She and another nurse had been chosen to accompany the two regiments assigned for the Canyon, so Rose had to transfer all the paperwork to her second-in-command.

The paperwork itself took five minutes. The rest of this past hour was making sure her protege was doing it right. Once Rose was satisfied, she left the hospital tent and packed her bags. She slept alongside the Second and Third Coastal so she could be up and early with them. Operation Highland’s Edge began tomorrow.

Crimson watched Athene Plateau recede quickly behind the train, which had traded its flatcars for coaches to accommodate two regiments. They’d only been there a single day and were already moving onto new places. He knew many of his friends felt the same way. But they had a duty to follow and a nation to defend. War did not concede to personal wishes.

He turned around as the door behind him slid open. Treetop and the pink Unicorn nurse were there. The colonel grinned devilishly and left the two alone after a moment. They were paralyzed, unsure of what to say.

Finally, Crimson couldn’t take it. “Warrant Crimson Dawn, at your service. What’s your name?”

“Nurse Lieutenant Rose Thorn,” she replied softly. “I saw you at Emberforge. All of your friends looked ready to fight to the death, but you didn’t. You wanted to go home, see your family. Who was it that saddened you so?”

“My sister. She wants to join AREA and fight alongside me. I’m just glad she’s underage, and will be for another three and a half years. This war is not how I imagined it. I lost Bats in my first real battle. I lost North at Emberforge. I may lose South, Platinum, and Mirage during the campaign now. I don’t want to lose Crystal.” Crimson stared ahead, keeping his eyes on the long iron rails behind the train. For a moment, all the two could hear was the steady clacking and smoky fire from the engine.

“Where did you live before the war?” Rose asked.

“Summercrest. It’s a small town by Cape Lune. You?”

“I lived in Port Snowfall. I was filling in for my father on a merchant mission to Haven Cove when the Dominion took the north.”

“Was it nice up there? I’ve never been to the Northern Run coast.”

“It was cold in winter,” she admitted, “but the trees appeared to have frosting. I always loved dancing in the snow, huddling around the fire, skating across the frozen bay. It was the perfect setting. Now it’s all gone, forever tainted by Jagged Edge and his armies. If Pacifica was any indication, Snowfall never had a chance.” Her gaze fell to the floor as she spoke.

“You helped Phoenix Darkwings, right?” Crimson asked. Rose nodded, recognizing the Pacifica filly’s name. “She’s the reason we keep going. Why we can’t stop. Why we’ll push the Doms all out of Atlantis for good.”

Author's Note

Alright, focusing my energy helped. I'm (hopefully) gonna get into a better routine.

The next chapters will be split POV's, each taking a different portion of the army (kinda like what just happened 3-ish chapters ago).

Feedback appreciated.

51. Operation Highland's Edge Part 2

Mirage walked down a tunnel to clear her mind. She had just picked out her commanders for the many squads her Changeling detachment was going to be divided into. Meanwhile, her colleagues did the same with their own troops.

As she walked down the poorly lit tunnel, she heard chatter and instinctively moved to the wall. It was a language she recognized - the language of the Hive. Mirage crept closer until she could make out individual words. By that time, she was nearly at a door with simmering firelight shining through its frame.

“You know the plan, imbecile!”

“My Queen, I have become fond of this form. It is quite comfortable. But it causes me to forget my place.”

Mirage could hear the frustration in the queen’s voice. Evidently, this wasn’t the first time the underling had forgotten what to do. “You must wait until they are out of eyeshot and earshot of other groups, then take them out one by one. The Changelings are of most importance; it has been years since Queen Duplicate’s Hive has breached the surface. Her daughter will make an excellent bargaining chip. But remember to not harm her. Is that clear?”

“Yes, my Queen. It will be done.”

Mirage slowly backed away from the door as silently as possible. This was bad. She had to warn the others.

The door began to creak open. In a moment of panic, Mirage cast the first spell that came to mind. Instantly, her body was enveloped in a flash of green and she turned into a normal Changeling, bald head and everything.

Solitaire walked out of the room. “Oh! You’ve come back from your patrol! Tell me, do the ponies suspect a thing?”

“No, sir,” she replied. Thankfully, her transformation changed her voice box to sound fully grown. The pronunciation could use some work, though.

“Perfect! Take a break, but get back to work by noon.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Mirage waited until Solitaire rounded a bend, then transformed back into herself in a flash of green. She let out a breath she’d been holding. Those last couple of minutes felt weird.

Relieved, she walked into the room. It was Solitaire’s personal quarters, but there had to be a massive wealth of knowledge in here, like how in the world the Earth pony from Port Snowfall could speak the Changeling language!

She started with the desk in the corner. Opening its single drawer, she found nothing. No papers were on the desk either. Five minutes of searching the entire room revealed no indication of who the queen was, where she was based, and how many ponies had been impersonated.

Another five minutes, and she was out of time. Mirage left everything where it was and left as discreetly as possible. On her way to Treetop, she found Crimson and pulled him into a side corridor.

“Mirage!” he yelped. “What do you want?”

“We have a problem,” she whispered. “You know that search pattern we’re gonna use tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I know it. It’s ingenious.”

“It’s a trap.”

Crimson was taken aback. “How do you know?”

“I overheard Solitaire - well, a Changeling disguised as him. Look, he spoke to some queen using the Changeling language. Only a Changeling can do that. And not only did he do that, but the queen sounded exasperated!”

“We need to tell Treetop,” he said after a moment to collect his thoughts.

“That’s what I was going to do! You think you can help me?”

“Sure. I just came from him. He’s really annoyed right now, but at least he’s still open to information.”

They eased back into the central tunnel and headed to the colonel’s workroom. Knocking on the door, Crimson went in first. “Treetop, we have a problem.”

“Is it your assignment?” Treetop didn’t even look up from his papers. He shuffled them and kept going through documents.

“No, sir. It’s-”

“Well, then you don’t have a reason to have a problem. Anything else?”

Crimson was stunned. “No, sir.”

“Alright then. You know where the door is.” Treetop started reading the next paper in his pile.

Crimson walked out and shrugged to the Changeling Princess. “That was weird. He’s never put work before his us like that before.”

“Then we have to assume they already got him,” Mirage said. “Do you think Platinum or Southern Lights can be trusted?”

“Well, normally I would, but I’d also normally trust Treetop. Assume the worst and we’re the only combat-trained ponies left. What would you do?”

“Get a medic to treat our wounds,” she instantly replied.

“Exactly. We should get Lieutenant Thorn and stay together.”

A few minutes later, Rose Thorn sighed as she heard their story. “It just doesn’t make sense, Warrant Dawn,” she said. “Even if you were telling the truth, how do I know you aren’t a Changeling yourself?”

“Uh…”

“He isn’t,” Mirage stated. “I know I’m a Changeling, but my mother is Queen Kate.”

Rose immediately understood what she meant. A lot of the Changelings she treated had referred to the Emberforge Valley Queen on the offhoof, using that name as a code to tell their comrades which hive they were from. Because of that, she could trust Mirage. And Mirage trusted Crimson.

“Give me a minute to pack my things.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” Rose asked.

“Yeah. I had one of my guys scout it out - the line goes really far into the Highlands,” Mirage replied.

“Sure, but is the line safe?”

The three stood at the beginning to the underground line to Griffonstone. An open-topped magic train purred behind them, ready to drive into the menacingly dark tunnel. Compared to the central caverns, it was night. Considering that many ponies had complained about how dim it was in the central tunnels, that was pitch-black.

After a moment, Mirage spoke again. “Yeah.”

The trio boarded. Rose grimaced, but climbed onto the train anyway. Mirage pushed the brake button, and the engine hummed forward. It began slow, but quickly ramped up speed, barreling down the tunnel fast enough to make the distance-marker glowstones go by in a blur. Luckily, the trains were noiseless, but they did have to go into the system and reroute this specific train from a southern line to get it. Since the trains were reassigned all the time, nopony would expect a thing.

Suddenly, the moon appeared above them, its cratered mare staring down on her newest night wanderers. Crimson looked up from his gun at the sudden natural light. He’d been using a glowstone to see the rifle, but now moonlight made everything much clearer. Rose stared to the right, realizing that they were over a valley.

Mirage saw the tunnel ahead of them, at least a few miles down the line. She decided to take in the scenery. The valley was beautiful. The reds, oranges, and browns combined with the night to make varying shades of black and midnight blue. Rock spires that made craggy shadows in the day looked smooth now. Soft moonlight rained down, giving the land a silver glow it could get at no other time. Stars dotted the sky, but some were obscured by the nearby mountains. A great band of densely packed stars filled the center of the sky, stretching across from horizon to horizon.

Then the earth swallowed them again, but for a very short time. After a minute, they could see the valley again. The rickety wooden bridge below the creaked and groaned with their passage. Rose unconsciously leaned over to look at the bridge, an apprehensive look plastered on her face.

The bridge ended, but the rails continued on the surface. Then the train stopped humming and hit every bump in the road. Mirage looked ahead just as they came to a stop. “Looks like we ran out of track.”

Crimson was the first off the train, grabbing his equipment as he jumped. Rose went second, taking a bit more time to gather her stuff, and Mirage was last. The Changeling was unlucky enough to have landed on a gun, yelping as she tried desperately to regain her balance.

“Wait… Crimson, take a look at this.”

The Pegasus stared at the weapon Mirage now held in her magic. “Foot-long bayonet, single-shot, muzzle-loader. Tin production label. Segmented stock, matchlock system, simple rear sight. This is an Atlantean musket. But what’s it doing in the middle of the Highlands? Sarge never came to this area.”

Rose backed into the two when she saw other things: muskets, piles of rail segments and wooden planks, and safety equipment. “I think we found the Rangers,” she said.

Crimson readied his repeater, Mirage brandished her sword, and Rose prepared to cast a defensive spell when a figure materialized in the moonlight. It walked slowly, just as apprehensive as the three.

“Who are? Whisperers?” it asked.

“Atlantean,” Crimson replied. “Hail from Summercrest.”

“Hail from Frostgar. Puddle jumpers.”

“Coal-heads.”

The figure laughed. “Finally, somepony who gets it!” It approached, revealing itself as a battered coal-black Earth pony stallion with a fiery cutie mark. His dusty-gray mane and tail revealed themselves as Rose lit her horn. “Ranger Coal Dust, reporting for duty.”

“Warrant Crimson Dawn, Second Coastal. This is Nurse Lieutenant Thorn and Princess Mirage of the Emberforge Valley Changeling Hive,” Crimson introduced, gesturing to the other two as he mentioned them.

“Thorn? Like Solitaire’s daughter Rose Thorn?”

“Yeah, why?”

Coal Dust’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened in shock. “Oh, this is not good… I’m probably the last Ranger who isn’t in Echo’s emotion farm. And now she’s just gotten herself veteran troops and could get Solitaire’s filly, too. Ohhhh, nooooo…”

“She actually has Dad?” Rose asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he gulped.

“Do you know where the hive is?” Crimson asked.

Coal Dust nodded and pointed down. “We’re on top of it. But I don’t know how to get in.”

“Then how do you know where it is?”

He shrugged. “There’s more than one entrance. I got out of the one of there,” she said, gesturing to where he’d emerged minutes earlier, “but it collapsed behind me. We need to leave before this place is swarming with guards and hopefully find another entrance.”

Mirage cast her own spell and immediately started walking back the way the train had come. The others followed her back to the tracks and across the second bridge. Without the weight of the train, it complained much less. Mirage continued to the short tunnel leading the first bridge she’d crossed on the train, then tapped on the wall. She felt along it, walking back and forth.

Confident she found what she was looking for, Mirage charged up her horn and blasted the wall. Instead of ricocheting back into her face, the rock blew inwards, caving in to reveal a fairly large side tunnel that arched in two directions. She walked in, and everypony followed.

“That wasn’t an entrance,” Mirage explained as they walked. “This is a tunnel connected to the Hive that happened to be really close to the outdoors. All I had to do was find it.”

“Won’t they know you just knocked down their wall?” Coal Dust asked.

“Nope. Changeling hives almost never guard their walls, just the doors. Mother had an early-warning system throughout the entire hive, but she was a little paranoid about invasion. Hives really don’t have a reason to guard a wall of rock otherwise.” Holding up a hoof, she said, “Wait. Guard ahead.”

“How do you-” Coal Dust started to ask, but Crimson covered his muzzle. “Shh!” the Pegasus whispered harshly.

Coal Dust nodded, more frightened by the gun than his tone. He tiptoed to Mirage, who was swiveling her ears around. Suddenly, the Changeling slammed a guard with a white-hot bolt of lightning, instantly turning him to ash. The Earth pony backed up as quietly as he could.

“The coast is clear,” Mirage whispered, led the group on.

Eventually, they made it to a large cavern, larger than the one Treetop had his troops camp in. from their high vantage point, they could see thousands of cocoons, half of them empty, but easily enough to hold the Second, Third, and the Rangers. Some were being filled now; Changeling guards put sedated ponies into their gooey prisons as the four watched.

“By Harmony,” Rose gasped. “They’re capturing everyone.”

Author's Note

Happy Friday to all of you. No school today, so I worked on this.

Feedback appreciated.

52. A Changeling's Blossom

Queen Echo stroked her forehead. She hated the daily reports that came with her position. Wishing her report-taker hadn’t gone to impersonate Solitaire, she waved the next Changeling to her throne.

“Yes, yes, very well,” she said after he finished. “Next.”

A guard burst through the door before the five thousand, four hundred fifty-seventh report was said. Everyone turned to look, and he bowed low before galloping to the throne. “My Queen! The upper entrance has collapsed!”

“Just leave it,” Echo replied. “That thing was bound to fall apart anyway.”

The guard bowed again and left. Echo sighed, gesturing for the Changeling in front of her report.

“My Queen, we have successfully replaced half of the regiments, including their commander,” he said. “However, three more ponies have been unaccounted for: Warrant Dawn, Nurse Lieutenant Thorn, and Princess Mirage of the Emberforge Valley Hive. Ranger Dust is also still missing.”

“As it goes, Dawn and Mirage work extremely well together. Thorn is a medic, so she is honor-bound to not injure. She is not a threat; in fact, she may even be an asset if we can catch her. Keep an eye out for Dawn and Mirage, and look for the Ranger. They will most likely try to find their comrades once they fit the pieces together.”

Another few hundred reports later, Echo finally left her throne. She walked to her balcony over the thousands of cocooned ponies. Finally, years after conception, her plan was bearing fruition. The Rangers were out of the way. Atlanta was deprived of two veteran regiments, and no doubt more would follow as they came looking. Soon, she would be reunited with her daughter. Atlanta would pay dearly for foalnapping the Whispering Hive’s only heir.

Mirage incinerated another guard that ventured too close to the place her group had entered the hive. This time, she took his weapon - an Atlantean repeater - and gave it to Coal Dust. “Rose can defend herself with magic. You can’t,” was all she said. He accepted it without complaint.

“You know, Mirage, the lightning spell is quite loud,” Crimson commented.

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“Could you use a fireball?”

“No. Takes to long to charge, and you have to get it ridiculously hot if you don’t want nightmares about it.”

“Oh. anyway, we need a plan. They’ll eventually figure out we’re here.”

“But they have everyone. You’re talking about us four taking on an entire hive. The odds are most definitely not in our favor,” Coal Dust protested.

“Not if we stay undetected. Use your heads, people.”

“I am using my head.”

“Oh, for Harmony’s sake, try to think about how to win!”

Rose shook her head. Mirage turned back from guard duty and grimaced. Coal Dust shrugged.

“Can we wing it?”

Again, everyone was silent.

“We should stay together, no matter the plan,” Mirage finally said. “We’re better as a team, and we’re less likely to lose someone if we stick together.”

“I agree,” Rose nodded.

After another moment of silence, Coal Dust asked, “What happens if we take out Queen Echo?”

“Well, it depends. Does she have any royal offspring?” Crimson asked in reply.

“Not that I know of. And I snuck around the palace for a week.”

Mirage smiled. “Then they wouldn’t have a leader. They’re open to a new royal lineage.”

“And you’re the only other Changeling capable of starting one within a few hundred miles.” Crimson was starting to grin devilishly himself.

“One question: who was Echo’s mother?” Rose asked.

“I remember my mother mentioning a Princess Echo about ten years back. She was - and still is - extremely protective of her family. Echo’s mother tried to plead her case to Chrysalis for not being able to pay tribute or something, and Echo felt her mental connection with the hive activate while reading a book. She was nearing her first… time then,” Mirage answered.

“So her mom’s dead.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think we should just kill Echo, so is it possible to knock her unconscious for the time we need?” Coal Dust asked. “I’m just not a killer.”

“Neither am I,” Rose said, cocking a pistol from Crimson’s saddlebag. “But I’ll do it if I have to.” Crimson did a double take on the pistol, then closed his open saddlebag. Rose giggled at his reaction.

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” Mirage said. She blasted another guard without even looking at him. The suddenness of the spell and her nonchalant expression surprised everyone. She began to walk down the hall toward the large cavern of cocoons, head held high. With nothing better to do, they followed her.

Once they reached the balcony again, Mirage said, “Alright, I have the best vision, so I’ll be lookout. There’s three guys down there, managing the one with Treetop. A few patrols of two are wandering the perimeter. I see a door on the other end of the room - use that as your entrance to the hive. Wait… I see her. Just above that door I mentioned. She’s in plain sight.” Mirage grabbed Crimson’s rifle and looked down the sights. “I can hit her. Just give me a second and-”

Crimson pulled the rifle down. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“I can take her out!” Mirage whisper-shouted back.

“But what if she actually has a daughter? You’ll alienate the whole damn hive, not to mention reveal our presence here if you miss!” Crimson yanked the gun back into his control. “You may be a princess, Mirage, but let’s get this straight: I’m in charge. You may technically be an officer and I an NCO, but Treetop has always delegated the authority to me. And I say that you don’t shoot. So if you want to get us all captured or killed, go ahead, but I won’t wait for you on the way out.” He shoved the gun into the Changeling Princess’ face.

Mirage looked ready to boil over with rage, but eventually calmed down. “Yes, sir,” she stressed.

“Good. Anypony else want to go awry?” Crimson asked as he put the rifle in its place, nestled readily in his saddlebags. Rose and Coal Dust shook their heads. “Alright then. Mirage, keep a lookout. Rose, Dust, you two come with me.” He led them back the way they came and around the bend, where they would hurry quietly down a spiral ramp that bottomed at the cocoon chamber’s floor.

As they left, Mirage huffed. Now that the guns were gone, all she had was her magic, her flight, and her sword to defend herself. Really, that was all she needed. Setting up a spell to warn her of any incoming guards and another on the moving trio to translate Changeling language for them, she scanned the cavern.

The three reached the bottom of the ramp without issue. Crimson ducked behind a wall and hefted his rifle. Two Changelings were on the other side of the wall, chatting as they passed the door to the ramp.

“Did you hear what the Queen wants to do?”

“Yeah. Invade Nautinia? She must be insane!”

“Well, that one stallion from a couple weeks ago did say that Atlanta is keeping Princess Blossom prisoner in her palace dungeon.”

“You mean the one the Queen simply killed outright?”

“Yup. I saw his uniform; it didn’t look Atlantean. The Dominion probably used some espionage to get her that information.”

“I don’t even know what the plan is anymore. Either way, it’s insane, but we gotta do what the Queen wants us to do. In any case, at least the Princess is still alive.”

“You said it.”

Crimson couldn’t believe his ears. Atlanta would never do such a thing - it just wasn’t in her character! This had to be deception. With a silencing spell from Rose, he shot both of the Changelings in the head to prevent detection.

They carefully navigated the maze of cocoons. Guards were everywhere. Mirage guided them with a communications spell, halting them at certain points and turning them around at others. After four circles, seventeen turn-arounds, and twelve very close calls, they made it to the other side. Crimson opened the door and slipped through, then waved his companions.

Rose and Dust stood next to Crimson as he ventured to a small overlook nestled next to the hive palace. What they saw was beyond any underground construction in history, even compared to the Rangers’ headquarters.

“By Harmony,” Rose breathed.

The palace had been built to the side of an enormous underground city. Its walls weren’t that tall, allowing them to see all the way to the glowstone-lit rock wall miles away. A massive suburban area surrounded the palace in a large semicircle, its orderly streets and two-floor homes resembling miniature pagodas mixed with the walled adobe architecture of southern Equestria. Beyond the suburbs, a glittering jewel of a city beckoned for them to visit. Magic spotlights created a night-sky picture on the unnaturally smooth ceiling. Business was conducted in a brightly lit marketplace. Spiraling towers appeared to just barely touch the sky, when in reality they supported the roof. And in the center of it all was a huge pillar of liquid fire, casting beautiful shadows across the city with its dancing flames.

“That is the most beautiful city I have ever seen,” Crimson agreed.

Prince Flawless Ice shoved the door to his palace dungeon aside. The guard on duty jerked at the noise, but otherwise remained emotionless. The one behind the check-in desk told a different story, however.

“Prince, what may I do for you?”

“You brought in a prisoner earlier today, one from western Atlantis. I wish to see her,” the Earth pony curtly replied.

“I can’t,” the guard protested. “Your father’s orders.”

Flawless pulled the guard close enough to make him instinctively pull his own head away. “Well, here are mine: you will show me to the prisoner. You will not give me a guard. You will not give me a key. You will not let the prisoner out of her cell. And finally, you will not tell my father about this, or I will have your head.” He bore his icy glare on the unflinching guard. “This goes for you as well.”

“Y-yes, m-m-my p-prince,” the desk guard stammered. He shook his head up and down, eager to get out of that fear-instilling stare.

“Good.” Flawless let the guard go, and he staggered backward, eyes wide and sweat streaking down his face.

“Block four, cell six,” the guard said. “I assume you know the way.”

“Yes, in fact I do.” Flawless strode down the hall and took a few turns. He held a cloth to his nose so he could breathe. This was not the cleanest place in the world, certainly dirtier than both Canterlot and Nautinia’s combined. The fact that Amyfalone’s castle dungeon received new guests on a regular basis didn’t help. Grime-covered ponies slept on itchy cots. After a few minutes, he found his destination.

The black Swiss-cheese pony curled up inside the cell didn’t move at first. Then she lifted her head and shrank toward the far end. Flawless instantly felt a pang of sympathy for her. She was beaten, bruised, had a horn lock, and her translucent green wings were tied to her body. There was also a high likelihood of rape, judging by her reaction to his approach.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said as gently as he could. “Can you tell me your name?”

She didn’t answer, her frightened eyes darting from him to the lock.

“I don’t have a key. I can’t get in there.” The prince jingled the door and upturned his pockets. Then he flipped them again.

She stayed where she was, but said something, her broken voice as soft as a princess’ and as youthful as a child’s.

“Can you say that again? I couldn’t quite catch that.”

She spoke only a tiny bit louder than last time. Flawless had to strain his ears, but he did recognize a single word.

“That’s a pretty name, Blossom.”

Author's Note

This was another mid-afternoon writing spree. I'm definitely in the mood now.

Feedback appreciated.

53. Reverse Interrogation 101

“Where are you from, Blossom?”

“The mountains.” Her voice was almost unheard. “They’re far away.”

“Yes, the mountains.” Flawless Ice gestured down the hall. “Did you live in the south?”

She nodded her head.

“How far away do you think the mountains were?”

She tried to respond, but instead broke into tears. “I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I couldn’t see. I don’t know…”

The prince stood there, dumbfounded. Of all the innocent ponies his father could’ve imprisoned, he had to take a child from a southern mountain range. With no ranges in the Dominion any farther south than Amyfalone, the only place left was the Whispering Highlands in Atlantis. It was a hard enough journey before the war. Now a child was dragged all that way blindfolded, abused, and who knew what else during the world’s first major conflict in 300 years.

But what could he do? The past was done. And how to console someone from across the bars? There was really only one thing he knew he could do, besides using his royal position on the guards. Unless… No. That’s a horrible idea. Father would kill me. Literally. He had no qualms about that.

Well, there was really only one thing he could do without getting scolded. And if I do that, I’ll have an excuse for some of the other things, too.

Flawless stopped staring into space and looked at Blossom. She’d stopped crying, but her water-filled eyes still begged for help.

“Don’t worry, Blossom,” he said softly. “I’m going to get you some help, alright?”

She nodded and he walked back to the exit. Father still might kill me, he thought, but at least he’ll listen to me if it do it this way.

King Jagged Edge of the Dominion reclined on his throne as his son strode into the hall. Strange. The prince almost never acted with a purpose in his father’s sight. This ought to be a good story.

“What brings you here today, my son?” the king asked, his knifelike voice slicing through the air.

“Father, King of the Dominion and Emperor of the Eastern Lands, yada yada ya-”

Jagged Edge stopped listening right there. This was the standard procedure: Flawless would address him by every title he had, while adding sarcastic comments to shorten some phrases, and the king would pretend to care.

“…And all that other stuff that has to do with the Navy, I request that the prisoner that arrived this morning be treated well.” He gulped. “I have grown fond of her.”

“She has been here for less than half a day and you are already asking for favors toward her?”

“I visited her, Father, and she was terrified by my own approach to the door. Even after I showed my lack of keys and guard, she stayed on the far end of her cell. She’s a child, Father; let me see to it that she is properly schooled and cared for.”

“You wish to raise her as you would your own child?”

“Yes, Father. As a possible successor to the throne should we both perish without another heir.”

“A contingency plan has never been a bad idea,” Jagged Edge mused. He rubbed his short but growing beard with a steel-silver hoof. “Now hear this,” he said, startling the scribe that wrote his every decree. “You, my son, Prince Flawless Ice, shall take the aforementioned prisoner who arrived on this day into your custody. You shall care for her. You shall ensure her proper schooling. You shall prepare her for a life as Queen of our grand Dominion so, that in the unfortunate event of your death without an heir, the transition of power is peaceful and undisruptive. And finally, you must give her a name worthy of our household.”

“Blossom, Father,” Flawless instantly replied. “Princess Rosemary Blossom of the Dominion, second heir to the throne.”

Jagged Edge smiled. “A most beautiful name, my son. See to it that she is cleaned for dinner tonight.”

“Yes, Father.” Flawless bowed low so that Jagged Edge couldn’t see the smile on his face. Holy smoke, it actually worked!

Flawless bounded down the spiral staircase and slammed the door into the dungeon desk clerk’s face as he reached the bottom.

“Guard, bring me to the prisoner I saw earlier, and give me the key to both her cell and horn lock,” he ordered. When the guard hesitated, he roared, “NOW, DAMMIT!”

“Y-yes, sir,” the guard managed to say. He dug through the desk at astonishing speed. Within a minute, he held the keys over the desk. “Here they are, sir,” he said unnecessarily.

Flawless took the keys and walked down the dirty, stench-permeating hallway. When he reached Blossom, he saw she had fallen asleep, curled into a ball on the unclean sleeping bag. Knocking on the bar once to get her attention, he said, “Hey! I’m getting you out of here.”

Blossom uncurled and sat up, yawning. Her blue-green eyes still looked as alert as ever, but without that childish innocence they should’ve had. She shook her head, getting a few bugs out of her translucent blue mane. She sat still as Flawless approached, still a little sleepy, and almost didn’t even notice when he removed her horn lock until it clanged to the floor.

“Wait! Don’t try to teleport!” Flawless insisted as she charged her horn. “You need to follow me. It’s for your own good - and mine.”

“Do I need to be a pony?” she asked as she followed him out of the cell. “It might be easier if I am.”

“If you want, Princess Blossom.”

She stopped dead in her tracks. “You know.”

“Wait, you actually are a princess? I just convinced Father that you were. Honestly, I had no idea.” Flawless looked as surprised as he sounded when he turned around.

“Well, yes. My mother is the Queen of her hive.”

Flawless continued walking. “Do you know what your mother’s plan is?”

“No,” Blossom replied as she caught up.

“As far as I know, it’s plain revenge. I talked the to the guys who brought you in; they said she’d been tricked into believing Atlanta took some Changeling Queen’s daughter prisoner. So you actually are that daughter, and not some random female drone.”

Blossom looked offended. “A princess is not a mindless drone susceptible to a change in her ruler’s desires, thank you very much.”

“That’s what I was looking for,” Flawless said, grinning. “I was worried you didn’t have enough sass. Yes, the plot is real,” he added, seeing the upset rage on her face. “It actually happened, and probably has been for at least three months. I say that because that’s the minimum time it takes to get from southern Atlantis to here.”

Blossom dropped her head as they passed the guards at the door. She raised it when they began climbing the spiral staircase. Now that she could actually see the grandeur of the castle, she was amazed by it, and was ashamed to walk in it as dirty as she was. Flawless led her to a large room fit for royalty, adorned with golden furniture and complete with a vanity mirror.

“Welcome to your new room. I’ll send some maids in to help you clean up. Bath is to your right, wardrobe is next to it, all that other stuff, too.” Blossom giggled at his goofy reference to her new bedroom appliances. “Also, that door in the back leads to a balcony overlooking the garden. If you have any questions, my room is three doors that way,” he said, gesturing to her left.

“Thanks,” she said, and he left. A few minutes later, two young mares came in - after knocking, of course - and readied her for the evening.

“Hey, Flawless, I heard you had a chat with your dad,” Lost Legacy jibed.

“It went better than I thought,” the prince replied. “Right now, all that matters is that there isn’t a ten-year-old in the dungeon.”

Lost’s eyes widened. “He put a kid in there? How’d you get her out?”

“I may have convinced him we needed a contingency plan in case I die without heirs.”

“Damn. So she’s a princess now.”

“She already was one. Does the box have enough range to reach the Celestial Sea?”

“Hell no. But we can bounce it off the big masts on the ironclads as they head south. That might give us enough range to reach Emberforge Valley, but we’d have to put boxes on the ironclads or it’s all moot.”

“I can put you on next week’s diplomatic entourage headed to Atlantis to see if they’ll surrender. Take this with you,” Flawless gave his friend a neatly folded note. “See to it personally that this reaches her, and do it when the others aren’t around.”

Lost gulped, his shadowy eyes wavering in their resolve. “But what about your father? What about my father? What about-”

Flawless held up his hoof to stop Lost’s rambling. “I’ll handle it. You just give this to her.”

“I just hope this doesn’t get me killed.” Lost sounded more scared than he ever had. But he’d get it done. He always got the job done.

Author's Note

Well, another late-night addition to the list of chapters, woo! It's late for me, at least. Also, if you read this chapter without any context whatsoever (I think it happened at least once before), I highly recommend looking at the Operation Highland's Edge chapters first (otherwise, you'll get really lost).

A little chatty in this chapter, but I guess it can't be helped. I kinda just tell the story through character dialogue half the time. And yes, Lost Legacy will get his own (dim-witted diplomacy) chapter sometime down the road.

Feedback appreciated.

54. Lightning Rod

Crimson watched the shimmering image of Mirage pace back and forth as they discussed their next move. Convincing Queen Echo that the Atlanteans hadn’t foalnapped Princess Blossom would be extremely hard, not least because they were in her hive. But it would be necessary if they were to get the Whispering Hive off their backs and continue fighting the Dominion.

“Can we get some of our guys out of those cocoons?” Coal Dust asked. “It seems simple enough.”

“Easier said than done,” Mirage deadpanned. “You have to make it look like they’re still in the cocoon, which means patching the hole perfectly. You have to have enough time for them to recover. You have to watch for guards - not to mention Echo herself. She’s been on and off that balcony for hours.”

“Can we take her prisoner without the entire hive descending on us?” Rose asked.

“Not really. It’s why a queen is usually killed, not imprisoned. That one time in Emberforge, we were lucky.”

“Then how do we convince her to lay off?” Dust plopped on the ground, clearly ready to give up.

Crimson shrugged his shoulders. “We can’t just leave them here, and we can’t kill Echo, or take her prisoner, which is something I’d rather not get dinged for.”

“Can we use an airship?” Rose looked thoughtful. “After all, there should be one within a day’s travel as the crow flies from here.”

“Against an underground enemy? Good luck.” Dust smirked.

Her cheeks flushed. “It was just a suggestion.” She sounded hurt.

Crimson stepped in before Dust could respond. “Shut up, Dust. If you have something that will actually help, then please, enlighten us. Otherwise, keep you mouth shut.”

“Ask the damn Unicorn. She’s got the magic,” he protested.

“I said shut it. Honestly, if you’re like most Rangers, then I’m fine with leaving your buddies in their cocoons.”

Rose put her hoof on Crimson’s shoulder. “Dad’s not like this, and neither are Rangers I knew. If they are now, it’s because the Doms have Port Snowfall. I’ve never even met Dust until earlier today, so he’s probably a local recruit.”

“Alright, Lieutenant Thorn, but we have bigger problems. Like how to effectively convince a Changeling Queen that we did nothing wrong? It’s far easier to prove one guilty than innocent.”

Mirage’s image shimmered. “See if there’s an armory. If there is, and you can get to it, then blow it up. Take out her military and logistical capability. If anything, the Doms taught us that.”

“Good. Mirage, get over here, and we’ll talk more about it.” Mirage’s horn flared and her image dissipated. “Dust, get off your ass. Rose, check for nearby guards.” Muttering, Dust stood up, while Rose cast a short-range scrying spell.

A moment later, Mirage was there. Her horn glowing, she demanded, “Chrome finish?”

“Not on my train,” Crimson replied. Mirage’s spell faltered and faded away. “Had to make sure, Crimson.”

“That’s fine. So, where do you think the armory is?”

“Judging by Queen Echo’s movements, her quarters are directly above us,” the princess replied. “Naturally, she would want the weapons near enough to quickly defend herself, but far enough to not explode her room. I think it’s across the palace.”

“We’ll go off of that. Do you think you can create a distraction, you and Dust? Rose will follow me.”

“Sure. give you five minutes to get in position before I start.”

Crimson smiled and hurried to the palace entryway, closely followed by the pink nurse. Mirage watched them go, then turned to Dust.

“When I say ‘go,’ head in the opposite direction they did. Make as much noise as you can once I’m out of sight,” Mirage ordered.

Coal Dust nodded.

Five minutes passed. “Go!”

The Earth pony bolted down the hall, screaming louder than Mirage thought possible. Within seconds, a squad of Changeling guards appeared and chased after him. They paid no heed to the princess, who was as silent as a rock.

She waited a minute. The constant scream stopped as Dust inhaled, then continued as he galloped through the hive’s streets. With a hollow thwap, he finally shut up and was unceremoniously dragged to the cocoon chamber.

Where Mirage stood at the door. As the guards hauled Coal Dust through the open door, she blasted them with lightning, missing the pony by a hair. He woke when his head hit the floor, scrambling to his hooves and trying not to let his anger control him.

“You let them take me!”

“Yeah, but you’re here now. Out of the way,” she said, starting to cast a spell. The crackle of lightning filled the air. Sparks flew off her horn. A ring of fire formed in the air between Mirage and the door. Then, with a strain in her eye and tears on her face, she let loose.

As Crimson and Rose remembered, the insane lightning spell cast at Emberforge Valley was the biggest ever conjured. It had been easily enough to trick the Dom artillery teams into shooting each other while they were still blinded. It allowed the airship Perplexus to dive in and evacuate the surrounded Atlanteans, letting them live to fight another day. The strike itself had originated from Mirage and had struck both sides of the valley from her vantage point. At least 150 Doms were simply incinerated upon impact; the rest in the immediate vicinity were permanently blinded or deafened, and both in some cases, and had to be relieved by fresh troops as they went home.

This one was bigger. Instead of a dual strike, Mirage opted for a single target: the ceiling just above the hive’s urban area. This put more power into the one bolt that now streaked through the massive cavern. It shone brighter than the sun and crackled with pure magical energy. Several branches scorched the walls and set suburban homes afire.

The bolt slammed into the rock ceiling at the speed of light. Concentrated magic seeped into the solid stone and ripped it apart atom by atom, shattering tons of rock and sending brightly lit cracks in all directions. Some of the supporting “skyrises” collapsed into heaps of rubble. Above the hive, seven tons of solid Whispering Mountain granite was annihilated and rained down as red-hot balls of magma. The real sky, gradually turning orange with the morning, could just barely be seen through the thinner layers of smoke and dust.

Then the sound rebounded off the cavern walls. It completely destroyed damaged buildings and, together with the shockwave, turned practically everypony to jelly. Mirage couldn’t stand up; her legs and balance were that disrupted. But the combo did disintegrate the thousands of cocoons and spilled their ponies onto the cave floor. Disoriented ponies stumbled in the goop, slipping and falling down.

Mirage struggled back to her hooves. She held a hoof to her ear, trying to figure out why she couldn’t hear anything. When she looked at her hoof, it was covered in green blood. A quick check on her other ear told her the same thing. She tried to cast a healing spell, but the green magic fizzled out as soon as it materialized.

Coal Dust shook his head, knocking a few pieces of his shattered, bloodied eardrums loose. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Surprised by this development, he checked his ears.

A black and white Earth pony rubbed his head. He approached the two, and recognizing, Coal Dust, gave the Ranger a bear hug. Dust practically jumped, but calmed down when he saw who it was.

“Solitaire! I didn’t even hear you!” he said.

Solitaire said something in reply, but Dust cocked his head to the side. “What? I can’t hear you.”

The Ranger leader’s mouth moved again in exasperation.

Dust jerked his hoof at his ear. “I don’t know what you’re saying. It’s kaput.”

Realization dawned on Solitaire. He waved a Unicorn over, who proceeded to cast a healing spell on Dust. Within a minute, he could hear again. “I think the other one’s broke, too.”

“That’s fine. At least you can understand me,” Solitaire said. “As I was saying, thanks for getting us out.”

“I didn’t do it. She did,” Dust replied, gesturing to Mirage. “I think she can’t hear either, and that lightning spell probably took all of her magic.”

The Ranger nodded and ordered the Unicorn to heal Mirage’s ears. “We owe you two a great debt. What’s next?”

“I don’t even know. This was supposed to be the distraction.”

Mirage joined them, adjusting to her hearing. She picked up her scattered equipment and saluted Treetop as he walked through the green cavern-wide gooey mess.

“Good job, Mirage,” he said.

A horde of Changeling guards entered the open doorway to the hive, weapons ready. With a sudden halt, they blinked surprise at the thousands of prisoners standing around. Then one of them roared something in the Changeling language, and they streamed forward toward the group.

Treetop brandished Mirage’s secondary curved-blade cutlass from her pack. The princess readied her own usual short sword, although weakly. Solitaire picked up a large rock, prepared to throw it.

“Well then,” Treetop said. “We’ve got ourselves some idiots in serious need of an ass-kicking.”

Author's Note

Okay, first things first. I'm not going to work on this story all next week, as I'll be away from the laptop (which is so much easier to type on). My phone does have Google Docs, which is where the WIP story is, but touchpad keyboards suck. Also, my phone hates fimfiction for some reason. I'll still be able to get on and look around, but I won't really be able to respond to any comments unless I want ten minutes of headaches and irritation.

Next thing on the list: Happy Thanksgiving y'all! This is the reason I'll be gone - I'm visiting family and eating a lot of good food.

Third: I've really enjoyed writing about this alternate universe. With six stories, four of which are complete, one on hiatus, and this one, I feel like this world has really been expanded upon. Of course, I still see huge opportunity with this, but it's still amazing to see how much has changed in 14 months. This world went from an overboard challenge entry to... now. So much has happened that I almost don't even recognize the original concept - which I think was supposed to be a version of the Sombra timeline from the Season 5 finale. Through 210,000 words and over a year of development, the world and characters have changed so much. It's incredible.

If you need a refresher on what stories are in this AU, here's the list:

Siege of Manehattan
Voyages
Homefront
The Atlantean-Dominion War (this one)
Nightmane
The Legend of Harmony Willowbark

And finally, like always: Feedback is appreciated! (especially criticism about the story for you new people)

55. Pennant

Anticipating the huge explosion and subsequent eardrum-shattering shockwave, Rose cast a shield bubble spell around herself and Crimson. He walked right into the spell and rubbed his head to get rid of a new tingling sensation. Backing up, he raised a questioning eyebrow at his companion.

Then the shockwave hit - and went around the translucent pink bubble. The shield bowed from the pressure but held. Ricocheting off the walls, the sound and blast threatened to destroy the protective spell, failing to follow through in the end.

Rose let the shield dissipate. Crimson gestured toward the hive armory with his gun. She nodded and they continued on their journey.

“How bad do you think everyone else is?” Crimson asked.

“I doubt they’ll be able to hear us, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Rose replied, smiling. “My shield took quite a beating.”

Crimson held up his hoof and leaned around a corner. After a moment, he waved Rose to follow him. With huge stone columns and cavernous hallways, Queen Echo’s palace was more impressive than the castles of many other monarchs. Torches ablaze with green fire lit the halls as best they could, but only succeeded so much. As a result, the palace had a dungeon-esque feel.

Another corner. Still no guards. Checking their six, Crimson and Rose creeped through the corridors. It was eerily quiet; the only things they heard were their own hoofsteps and hushed breathing.

Gunshots rang out. The two looked at each other.

“Mirage,” they said simultaneously.

Knowing that their time may run out soon, they bolted for the armory. Twists and turns still revealed an empty palace.

Crimson suddenly stopped and turned to enter a bedroom, its double doors ajar. He hefted his repeater. There was nopony in the room. A few quick sweeps showed that clearly enough. Judging by the size of the room and its decorations, this was most likely the young Changeling Princess’ quarters.

Rose lifted the covers on the queen-sized bed. A single red pennant was hidden under them. She lifted it with her magic and saw the room as it had been months ago. A Changeling filly hopped out of bed to answer a knock on her door. Within moments, several masked ponies had knocked her unconscious and left. During the brief tussle, the pennant Rose held was sent flying and fell where she’d picked it up.

“That’s a Dom flag,” Crimson whispered. Rose put the pennant down and stared at it. The Pegasus was right; a gold Dominion arch-and-cross was stitched on the cloth. With a concerning sigh, Rose stuffed it into her saddlebag.

They continued through the palace. Finally, a guard showed up, his hoof rubbing his tortured ear. Crimson raised his gun, aimed, and fired. Rose flinched as the Changeling guard slumped into a growing pool of blood. The way Crimson had dispatched the enemy, so quick, cold, and merciless, frightened her.

The armory revealed itself among the gloom. Crimson clutched the wall as he slinked along it. Opening his saddlebag, he took inventory of his equipment: seven “boom-spheres,” a few ammo packs, two rolls of adhesive, some food. Not what he wanted.

But maybe what he needed.

He stuck five of the boom-spheres to the armory with the adhesive. Then he backed away, pulling Rose with him. Knowing that the bombs used contact detonators, he’d set them upside down, with just enough adhesive to hang them for a few minutes.

The boom-spheres fell. Their explosions, however small, blew the bottom out from under the shockwave-weakened wall and collapsed much of the building. A spark from rock sliding on rock set a barrel of Griffonstone beer on fire. In burned with a blue flame, licking other barrels before a guard kicked it away.

A dozen Changelings scrambled out of the ruins. Unlike last time, Crimson didn’t shoot them. Instead, he grabbed the Dom pennant and tossed it near the scene before leading Rose back into the palace shadows.

Queen Echo’s legs collapsed as sound bounced off the walls and turned them to jelly. Her ears burst, causing little streams of green blood to run down her head. Once she recovered, her healing spell fixed her destroyed eardrums and she could reorient herself.

Standing up, Echo realized that there were only two places that could’ve been targeted: the pillar near the center of the hive, and the palace. She raced to a balcony overlooking the hive, completely forgetting about her injured, disoriented guards.

Several towers were gone. A gaping hole let early-morning sunlight filter down on the central marketplace through a huge cloud of dust. The magical night-sky ceiling had been completely disrupted beyond repair. In the center of the hive, the pillar of liquid fire trembled, as there was now no roof to hold it securely in place.

Echo gasped and took an involuntary step back. That pillar was the hive’s main store of emotional energy. It alone stored a hundred years of compounding emotions from millions of ponies. Not every hive had one, but past experience had taught Echo that a large reserve of food was necessary. If its magical bonds failed, the highly volatile emotional energy could explode. When that happened, half the Whispering Mountains would go down with it. The destructive force could alter the entire world’s climate pattern, destroy Equestria’s seasons, and send the entire planet spiraling into what Echo referred to as nuclear winter. Very few would survive the next several thousand years as Equus slowly recovered, according to her scientists.

Naturally, Echo was concerned for the well-being of her own, but this fear came with an additional slap: if Blossom was alive, she wouldn’t have subjects to rule. She wouldn’t have a family. She wouldn’t have a hive. If anything, the Whispering Hive would be doomed.

Author's Note

Shorter than my usual chapters, but I just got back from Thanksgiving break.

Also, I changed the order of the stories. This is now no longer the 1st book in the series. Siege of Manehattan is again the first part of the main storyline. Well, technically Nightmane is, but... This story is the last.

Feedback appreciated.

56. Silver Flame

Treetop whooped, cutting down a fourth Changeling guard. To his left, Mirage had more of a struggle, as the lightning spell had drained her both magically and physically. She eventually dispatched her foe, but was surrounded by several more who thought she’d be an easy target. Treetop smashed his way through them, killing two in a single swipe.

The real Solitaire had waited until he could possibly miss, then threw the rock he held with all his might. The targeted Changeling was briefly stunned, dropping his sword and backpedaling a few steps. Solitaire ducked in, grabbing the dropped sword before the Changeling and taking an experimental swing. It was terribly well-balanced.

The Changelings just kept coming. For every one the worn-out Atlanteans brought down, two more took its place. They all knew they’d be overrun; it was just a matter of time before-

“Stop fighting!” A loud voice projected itself from the balcony overlooking the embattled cocoon chamber and bounced off the walls. Everyone, Changeling and Atlantean alike, immediately looked to its source.

A Changeling Queen spread her wings and fluttered down to the bloody floor. She had the albino-white mane and tail and crystal-clear wings of a cave dweller but the commanding tone of a ruler. Her personal crown was made from glassy black obsidian with a large twilight-white diamond embedded in the center.

“Who are you to barge in and disrupt my hive?” she demanded.

“Who are you to take my friends prisoner?” Mirage shot back.

The newcomer straightened. “I am Queen Echo of the Whispering Highlands Changeling Hive. I rule everything from the southern coast to the central mountains, from the peaks to the swampy lowlands. You and yours have been trespassing on my property.”

“If you had told that you exist, we would’ve known not to come. Our job is to clear out any Dominion forces in this part of Atlantean territory. You are impeding that process, and you need to stop.”

“And who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

“Princess Mirage, heir to the throne of Queen Duplicate, the current ruling Queen of the Emberforge Valley Changeling Hive. I also command the Changeling forces attached to the Second Coastal Regiment, Atlantean Reserve Emergency Army.”

“Duplicate’s foal? Don't look like much.” Echo circled Mirage, who resisted the urge to follow her. “I honestly believe you could get yourself killed, doing what you do. Soldiering is a guard’s job.”

“Is that why you let the Dominion take your daughter away? Because she couldn't defend herself? Because you thought it wasn't necessary?”

“You dare-”

“Yes.”

Echo burned with rage. “You Atlanteans stole my Blossom! Foalnapped her! She - she…” The Queen couldn’t continue. An earthquake seemed to shake her to her core.

“Can be found,” Mirage said. She tried to talk as soothingly as possible. “Just tell me where she was taken.”

“You mean you don’t know where you took her?”

“I don’t.”

A Changeling Guard bounded in through the open doorway to the rest of the hive. “Queen Echo! The armory has been attacked!”

“Captain, you must deal with it alone.”

“But my Queen! Evidence of Dominion activity was found! Here it is now,” the Captain said, giving a pennant to Echo. “We’ve been betrayed, Queen Echo.”

The Queen held it firmly in her magic, searching for any indication of false evidence. Finding none, she regarded Mirage with a raised eyebrow. “It appears that you are honest. If the Dominion can sneak into my Hive, then they are more likely to have foalnapped my daughter. I’m willing to trust you - for now.”

A great crack brought their attention to the center of the hive. The pillar of liquid fire wobbled and twisted, straining the bright magical binds holding it together. Around the dangerous rain of falling emotions shaken loose, Changelings fled the scene.

“The pillar is emotional energy. Without it, the Hive will starve. If the pillar breaks its bonds, it could destroy the world.” Echo’s eyes showed fear.

“Then contain it.” A new voice, coming from a pink Unicorn, surprised everyone.

“You must be joking.” Echo leered.

“I’m not.” Rose Thorn’s horn lit and magic swirled around her like a hurricane. Her eyes shut tight, she sent her spell at the pillar. It stopped its deadly wobble, but still trembled. Mirage cast her own magic into the emotional fire, tired as she was. Combined, they were able to keep it still - but not for long.

Echo saw the determination in their eyes. She turned to face the fire and hurled a freeze spell into it. The fire immediately ceased all movement, trapped in time. A moment later, its frozen shell shattered into knives of solid emotion.

“Well, that didn’t work,” Crimson stated.

“Do you have a better idea, Pegasus?” Echo shot back.

“No.”

“Then shut the hell up.”

Crimson harrumphed and moved to stand next to Treetop. The colonel acknowledged him, then continued staring at the unstable tower of magic. Its trembling had begun to roll thunder through the hive. In response, the recovered Unicorns in the Atlantean ranks cast their lot with the wavering shields, bolstering them. Many Changelings also used what magic they could to hold the pillar in place.

Echo tried to freeze the emotional fire again. This time, with the magic of several hundred Unicorns, it stayed frozen. She pulled rocks together from the nearby mountains aboveground, and Rose blasted it with a small lightning spell to fuse them together. Upon the release of the many hundreds of spells, the pillar did not shake.

A sigh of relief escaped the Changeling Queen’s lungs. The immediate danger was past. She held the pennant her captain had given her in a grip tighter than the mountains were tall. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she held them back. Only one word escaped her mouth.

“Blossom.”

Author's Note

Sorry about the sudden unannounced Christmas vacation. Didn't plan on it, I swear.

Well, I regained access to some sandbox games I really like. So I ended up playing them. And then I got Scrivener, which means I have a long haul ahead of me if I'm gonna move the entire story to it. Or maybe not. I kinda skipped the tutorial a bit.

Anywho, my final words remain the same. Feedback appreciated!

58. Voyage's End

Lost Legacy craned his neck to see around the Pharaoh's stern railing. Finally, after four agonizing hours of evacuation, cargo transfer, and failed attempts at stopping the water, DNV Montoyana’s capsized hull dipped beneath the waves. Sixteen trapped ponies went down with the ship, still struggling against the sinking ship to escape. Five others had been killed outright in the Atlantean multi-ship broadside and a dozen more wounded, some seriously. Out of the five ships sent out, four remained.

The next two hours were funerals at sea for those whose bodies they did recover. But once the solemnity was served, the Dominion fleet took to full sail. They still had a job to do.

Three days after exchanging shots, the faster part of Evergreen’s armada rounded Cape Lune. That “faster part” was made of only Eternity, which managed an astonishing fifteen knots during the transit. The rest of the fleet maxed out at ten knots, and would arrive in two days, wind permitting.

As the small town of Summercrest came into view around the partially-rebuilt lighthouse, an iron-hulled vessel sprinted out of the harbor to greet them. It flew a large Atlantean Navy banner on its aft mast and sported two large weapons on her bow and stern. With a white “01” painted on either side of the bow, just behind the anchors, she looked like a new menace to prowl the seas.

Despite the fact that Eternity’s crew frantically waved the Atlantean colors above their ship, the mysterious ship kept its weapons pointed and hove to at a distance. Its crew flashed a lantern signal, which the voyage-weary ponies answered. After that, the ship pulled closer and deployed a small boat.

Harbormaster Nightmane clambered up the ladder to meet the newcomers. He left Nightmane with a decent commander should anything happen to him, with orders to blow up the vessel if gunshots rang.

“Permission to board?”

“Uh, sure, I guess.” The pony really didn’t know how to respond. “Who are you?”

“Harbormaster Lupus Nightmane, commanding officer of ANS Nightmane, DD-01. She’s the first iron-hulled warship in the Atlantean arsenal. Unless you count Indianapolis, but we didn’t built her. We did build Nightmane, though.” His last words held more than a hint of pride. “So, what vessel is this?”

“We don’t know, sir. We found her in some shallows off the Equestrian West Coast and hauled her back as fast as we could. Dubbed her Eternity.”

“How long have you been away from Atlantis?”

“Fourteen years to the day. We’re from Commodore Evergreen’s armada.”

Nightmane rubbed his head. “Boys, you’ve missed a lot.”

“Yeah, we noticed. Are we at war with the Dominion?”

“Have been for two and a half years. The old monarchy was overthrown a couple years after you left and was replaced by Queen Atlanta. Don’t worry; she’s much better than the old guys.”

“So we serve a queen now?”

“Dude. She’s an alicorn. Seriously.”

“Wait, what? Like the Equestrian Princesses?”

“Yeah.”

“So who started this war?”

“The damn Doms.” There was a flame of animosity in Nightmane’s voice. “We’ve been on the defensive all war. That’s partly policy, but I honestly don’t see us having the resources to rebuild and defend and attack Dom territory.”

“Well then. Do we have the resources to fix Eternity?”

Nightmane grimaced “We might. Pull into the yard and we’ll see what we can do.” With that, he and his party left for the station-keeping destroyer in the distance.

Eternity, under Nightmane’s still-wary guns, entered the Summercrest harbor on fumes. Her sooty-black smoke, so visible on her run down, had dwindled to almost nothing. The wood her crew used for fuel was gone; the supply died just as she passed the harbor mouth. She was sluggish, which was certainly no condition to fight.

Now that Nightmane’s eyes were trained on Eternity from afar and had the time to scrutinize, he saw the signs of a long, hard voyage and raising from the bottom. Barnacles encrusted much of her exposed superstructure, and most of her formerly wooden topdeck had been eaten or rotted away many years ago. Searchlights, much like Indianapolis’s own, were damaged beyond repair. Rust had taken hold and stubbornly refused to let go, leading to long streaks of orangish metal streaking down the sides of the ship. Patched holes from who-knew-when dotted the hull, and restored, overworked pumps poured water overboard in little streams.
Finally, Eternity came to a steamless halt in the drydock where Nightmane was built and repaired after the tsunami weeks earlier. She gave in to the ocean then, as her crew climbed to the dockyard. Her old, sluiced bow went first, followed by the air-filled engine room and aft assembly.

Nightmane set his ship to the quay and disembarked quickly to tell Captain Middle Road the situation, and also to hear about Commodore Evergreen’s expedition. It promised to be quite the story.

Middle Road pushed a strand of her green mane out of her eyes, which were concentrating on the sunken ship in her drydock. Then she heard the clop of Nightmane’s hooves against the stone street. This had better be good.

“I know, I know, Captain, but they’re from an old expedition,” Nightmane cut her off before she could ask.

“Which one?”

“Evergreen’s. The one that left like fourteen years ago.”

“Is that what they said?”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t just trust that. Remember what happened with Mariner?”

“But that ship literally can’t do anything!”

“It doesn’t matter. Yes, they came in under the Atlantean naval jack, but so did Mariner. Both said they needed help, right?”

“Yeah…”

“That’s my point.”

Nightmane waved his hoof. “No. You don’t understand. Captain, every harbormaster in Atlantis knows which expeditions we have out there and when they return if they do. Ever since I became harbormaster of Summercrest twenty years ago, I’ve known these things. I knew Commodore Evergreen: she’s my second cousin, thrice removed. But the King knew that too, and you know how he liked to break up big families with those big expeditions. At least Atlanta put an end to that practice.”

“You’re wistful, hoping your cousin is truly coming home. You want to believe them. I’m gonna be cautious this time around.”

“Don’t apprehend them, Captain. They need a break.”

Road sighed a long sigh. “Fine. But they stay near their ship at all times.”

Evergreen let the cool sea breeze flow through her coat as Chesapeake rounded Cape Lune two days later. The battlewagon was towing Cardinal behind her, the frigate too badly damaged by yet another storm to sail under her own power. A corvette had been tossed around and smashed against Whitecap Point last night, and as far as Evergreen knew, she went down with all hands.
Unlike Eternity, which had been greeted by Nightmane, the weary expedition received a much different welcome. The formidable Indianapolis came out herself, as she was the only ship with enough firepower and speed to take on the fleet. Evergreen, unsure what to do next, hove to, and the two forces kept station in the light swell. As time went on, however, Indianapolis gained reinforcements: Nightmane and the corvettes Sundering Sea, Cape Lune, and Dragonheart. For another hour, they sat there, gathering their thoughts while Evergreen and her crews stared slack-jawed at the cruiser and destroyer.

Then a lantern signal flashed from the large iron vessel. Caught up in her amazement, the commodore didn’t even see it. Then the lookout called down and a signalpony wrote the announced code, translating it after he received no more letters.

“Evergreen, they’re asking if this is Expedition Explore from 960 YS.”

“Confirm. Use my code.”

The signalpony flashed his response on Chesapeake’s own signal lantern. “They’re checking the code’s validity. Said it’s being run by some Nightmane guy.”

“That’s fine. Just tell me their response.”

After a minute, he translated. “Checks out, and ‘Welcome back cousin.’ They’ll guide us in.” His face became one of confusion. “Who’s the cousin?”

“Nightmane. He’s my second cousin, thrice removed. It’s nice to see he didn’t forget.” Evergreen turned to the helm. “Follow them in, Silverflame.”

Summercrest Harbor was currently serving more ships than it was built to support. The standard minimum for any small naval base was to be able to support at least a dozen ships, and Summercrest could hold twenty without trouble. But over two and a half times that were tied to the quay, not including the local defense fleet of five ships, bringing the number to fifty-five. Then the shipyards held Eternity and three more corvettes, this time the new Neptune-class steamers. Neptune herself was on her maiden voyage as a sailing steamer to Manehattan, loaded with merchandise to hopefully equate into steel in a month.

Middle Road had been aboard Indianapolis for the sortie, and returned the cruiser to her massive berth under the amazed eyes of the returning exploration fleet. Nightmane also slid neatly to her pier in front of the cruiser. Sundering Sea and Cape Lune moored beside each other behind Indianapolis, and Dragonheart nestled in her spot behind them. As she walked down the gangplank, she watched the more-damaged ships angle towards the yard, while everything else dropped anchor either in the harbor or along the docks.

As the gangplank came down from Chesapeake, she heard the distinctive tune of an old piracy song. But they weren’t taking it seriously, however, and soon howled with laughter. Even the captain was in on it. Those pirates never did anything anyway, maybe except sing that goofy song about what they didn’t do, she thought.

The Pegasus captain of Chesapeake came down to the pier first. As soon as she gained the land, she was knocked over by Nightmane. They tumbled and laughed, playing with each other.

“Evergreen! You’re alive!” Nightmane said.

“Lupus, you still live in this town. I can’t believe it!” she replied as they picked themselves off the ground.

“Evergreen, I’m the harbormaster. Well, I was. My wife Lunar Eclipse has practically taken that job from me, and I’ve worked myself onto a destroyer.”

The commodore gestured at the iron-hulled ship bouncing in the waves next to the pier. “That thing?”

“Hey,” he protested, “she’s a beauty. We built her ourselves, and all you did was loot a coast.”

“Did you build the big one behind your ‘destroyer,’ Lupus?”

“Nope. Found her in the sandbar, if you can believe it.”

Middle Road tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Nightmane, you know her?”

“Why, Captain Road, this is none other than Commodore Evergreen, commander of Expedition Explore.”

“Commodore Evergreen? I’ve never heard of you.”

The mare fluttered her wings. “I guess that’s true for most of Atlantis. I’ve been gone for the better part of two decades.”

“Nightmane told me.”

Evergreen gestured to to Eternity, sitting in the drained drydock. “Can she be fixed?”

The stallion clapped his hoof on her shoulder. “We made one from scratch. Honestly, that thing looks like a walk in the park. Where’d she come from, really? I heard she was found off the Equestrian West Coast, but that’s it.”

“Oh, it’s true. Found her aground on a reef about thirty miles west of Vanhoover. She has a Dominion emblem on her rudder and there was a mostly-destroyed flag that we recognized as Dominion.”

“She’s a Dom vessel?”
“Well, yes.”

A predatory smile spread on Nightmane’s face. “Not anymore, she isn’t.”

Flawless slammed open the trapdoor to Amyfalone’s southern lighthouse. Reaching the top, he took a deep breath to calm himself and watched as the largest metal warship constructed in this world took to the seas with its consort of smaller fully armed and operational steel ships. Five metal ships were headed to a rally point by the mouth of the Northern Run, where they would undergo final sea trials and wait for reinforcements before steaming towards Cape Lune.

“By Harmony,” he breathed as he watched the largest ship, DNV Devastator, and its escorts (Annihilation, Overpower, Grinder, and Dagger--he knew their names by heart) steam effortlessly against the prevailing winds. “Father’s gone completely mad.”

59. Distrust

Indianapolis’s bow sliced the ocean in two as she steamed effortlessly through a heavy swell as she sailed west. Her massive hull hardly rolled, but pitched up and down with as she passed over crests and dove into troughs. Breakers curled onto her deck, as high as it was, and a deluge of rain pelted the ship like a hailstorm. Her 8-inch main guns were trained fore and aft, while her secondaries pointed every which-way.

After the return of Commodore Evergreen’s fleet, the heavy cruiser was sent on a long-delayed post-repair shakedown, complete with several days at sea while her normal berth accommodated damaged frigates and battlewagons. While she was out, Captain Middle Road had decided to keep Seagull’s carefully maintained seaplane at Summercrest. In exchange for that precious scouting range, she bolstered the cruiser’s defensive capabilities by adding half a dozen fifty-pound cannons, along with their crews and ammunition, to the amidships section where her aircraft-launching catapults were. The catapults, no longer needed, were stowed between the three guns a side for transport to Nautinia. They would doubtless be needed for the naval projects there.

A second reason, not mentioned to her crew, was that the Dom fleet Evergreen had encountered on her journey was sailing down. Given its size, it was likely to be a diplomatic entourage or picket force; however, it was the time of year when Atlanta was asked to surrender. It was unanimously decided to keep them from sighting their most powerful asset during target practice with new bronze projectiles, fired by bags of black powder. The trade lost velocity, so th guns would need to be fired in local control, but as innovative as the Atlanteans were, they just couldn’t figure out how to make guncotton--the “smokeless” stuff that fired the modern HE and AP rounds, not that armor-piercing was more useful against wooden hulls than an oversized bullet. Someday, Nightmane hoped to make some black-powder high-explosive rounds, but until then, all they had was the dangerously low supply already aboard, which consisted of 15 HEs and 42 APs (21 solid bronze rounds per turret also partially filled the magazines).

Nightmane watched distant waves slam against the 100-foot cliff that rose between Summercrest and Nautinia. Its western side terminated as the capitol’s eastern bluffs, where Fort Lazuli boasted formidable defenses and huge experimental seventy-pound cannons! They had performed well during last year’s siege, but they and their ammo were so fantastically expensive that they would soon be scrapped for the iron and be replace with standard fifties. It was too bad Indianapolis and other naval projects took all that funding, or Fort Azure would be getting some, too.

He turned to the south. The storm was getting worse, and before long, it’d be slamming its waves beam-on into the cruiser. That wouldn’t be cause for alarm, simply because of the ship’s size and steel construction, but it would push her farther north--and closer to the shallow beaches backed by rocky outcroppings. Nightmane harbored no illusions what a good-sized rock would do to a ship, no matter her hull material.

“Port rudder five degrees,” he ordered.

A moment later, the pony at the helm said, “Rudder at five degrees.”

“Acknowledged.” When he was certain the course was good, he ordered the rudder back to amidships.

A massive trough opened up before the bow, and Nightmane watched as the wave behind it curled around the soaking deck and sluiced overboard. Some of the water crashed into the massive forward gun, forming a brief but impressive wall of spray that inundated the turret.

Nightmane relinquished the deck to his exec, then walked outside to the fire-control platform, where his soaked, sparkly willow-wood gunnery officer and her crew kept lookout for hazards in the rain. She noticed him and saluted briefly before continuing her search.

“Lieutenant Commander Sparklewood,” he yelled over the howling wind, “as soon as the watch changes, I need you to get some sleep, then check over the calculations for your bronze bolts again. If we run into any trouble, I want our ranges and velocities down pat.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “But I’m really uncomfortable with everyone using my rank. Could you call me by my name, please, sir?”

“Sure, Autumn.” He remembered when the light-gray mare was his laid-back shipyard master. Not thirty years old, she was a kid compared to the virtual grizzlies around her; in fact, she was the youngest officer to reach LCDR. Both Autumn and Nightmane had been conscripted into the Navy out of necessity when the war broke out, and both had been catapulted to levels above their comfort. But alas, it had been that new responsibility and her experimental genius that finally cracked her complacent shell, and when Indianapolis’s ammunition magazines started to look empty, she had the idea that would fill them back to the brim. That was the main reason she became the cruiser’s gunnery officer: it was her bolts they’d be shooting from now on, and she wanted to know their faults as soon as possible (see them in action). She was an excellent range finder, and would be practically unable to miss with the computerized equipment around her.

He took a second to look her over again, searching for any signs that she needed a break before the next hour was done. Her shiny bronze helmet failed to protect most of her soaked, light shadow hair. Tendrils of uncut bangs (she always forgot) fell over her snowy eyes, making her look indeed like a sparkling tree in winter. Honestly, she resembled one more than her mother, who actually held the name Winter Willow. Her uniform obscured view of her cutie mark, but it was a calculator of sorts, symbolizing her mathematical expertise. Convinced her condition was fine, he left the rain and shook the water out his coat like a dog. He mentally prepared himself for his next stop and climbed down the ladders to the engineering spaces.

Commodore Evergreen watched the small Dom fleet pull into Summercrest Harbor, escorted by the defense fleet and under the mighty guns Nightmane bore down on them from her berth. The ships dropped anchor near the pier and tied up for the time being, until the storm cleared enough for them to sail on to Nautinia.

She wanted to blast them out of the water, still seething from the memory of being shot at without warning by their much-longer range. Her anger was partially ebbed when she realized that the entourage - that’s what it was, apparently - was a ship short. Their main diplomat confirmed her suspicions; she’d sunk it. Her predatory smile grew at that.

Currently, a young stallion named Lost Legacy was explaining that he had to reach Queen Atlanta at all costs, as he had a message specifically for her from the Dominion Crown Prince, Flawless Ice. If at all possible, he needed a private audience with the alicorn ruler, and no formality could get in the way.

Middle Road was having none of it. She refused to let any Dom go ashore for liberty or official business except standard harbor things that Nightmane’s wife, Lunar Eclipse, had gotten a great grasp of, mostly for security reasons. Eventually, even Lost had to go back to his ship. He seemed genuinely disappointed.

When the Dom rowboat was out of earshot, Evergreen asked, “Why can’t we just blow them the hell out of the water?”

“Because it’s against the rules of war, which have remained unchanged for the past five thousand years,” Road answered.

“From what I hear, you did it to some Mariner guy, and he was a Dom with a fleet, just sitting in your harbor.”

“He was a spy, or a saboteur, or whatever. The difference is that these guys came under the white flag of truce, seeking shelter from a storm that we’ve been experiencing for the past two days. It would seem a crime not to let them into the shelter of the harbor, minimum, but I won’t bend past that.”

A gentle sea breeze reached them, the remnant of a howling wind broken by the headlands at the bay’s mouth. Very little height actually rose around here, but the “swamp oaks” atop them sheltered Summercrest well against all but the worst of nature’s storms.

“What I wouldn’t give to settle down,” Evergreen said wistfully. “I was actually hoping I could do that when we got back. My XO and I have become quite close, you know.”

“I’ll bet. You were on the same boat for fourteen years.”

“But here we are, fighting still against a foe we may never hope to defeat in full.”

“Who said we can’t win?”

The commodore sighed. “Atlanta did. Apparently, Nautinia was under siege last year, and they’re still counting the tolls the city took. But alas, our newfound queen is thankful for my expedition’s safe arrival home.”

“We’ll need you guys. Do you seriously think five ships can hold back the entire Domination Navy?”

“You did once.”

Road smiled. “We did. And we’ll do it again if we must.”

Princess Blossom, second-in-line to the Dominion throne, saw her adoptive brother walk into the library around her in the corner of her vision. She closed her book, a large volume of magical theory, and smiled softly at him from her plump, cushioned couch. “Good evening, Flawless.”

“A beautiful night, is it not?” he asked in return.

She glanced out the darkening window. “Indeed.”

“Father said I would find you here at this time of day, for the waking hours after dinner.”

“Does he disapprove?”

“Not at all; in fact, he believes that tender ears such as your own should not hear the reports of his generals unless you wish to. I, however, have no choice, since, as king, I would need to deal with such matters. As a queen, you would not be. Your husband would.”

“And if I do not marry?”

“Then this branch of the royal line would end. It is a matter of choice, though.”

She was silent a while. Finally, as the sun’s last rays reached the window frame, she asked, “What is happening in the world?”

Figuring what she meant, he spent a moment gathering his thoughts. “Four million Dominion soldiers are on Atlantean soil now. The latest convoy has confirmed its arrival in Port Snowfall. I doubt the Atlantean armies will last much longer. They combat the seeds of distrust my father’s agents have planted within your mother, along with their physical enemy, us, and their own personal, psychological enemies.”

“The seeds of distrust?”

“Yes. I was finally able to determine when my father’s agents stole you from your home, and it amounts to three years ago. They dropped hints along the trail that would have lead your mother to Queen Atlanta, and without other clues, she may have plotted against Atlantis since then. Both sides will have a difficult time trusting the other until you return home.”

“As much as I want to, I cannot. As a Queen, my highest priority is the protection of my own. Without a true bond with my Hive, I don’t consider them my own.”

“Then who is?”

“You are.”

Flawless was stunned. She considered him family after a couple weeks as “siblings”. And as much as it was a lie to save her from the dungeons, he felt a brotherly tug towards her as well. That was a feeling he hadn’t felt in years.

“What about the seas?” she asked, as if she’d read his mind and was willing to change the subject.

“Our ironclad fleet will reach Cape Lune in four days, sailing around and taking Summercrest within the week. There is no doubt that their primary naval operations have shifted to that area, and we shall find out what it is soon enough, if we haven’t already.” He sighed. “My father does not believe that a single large iron ship could defeat two of his fleets with little assistance. Nonetheless, he wants it for himself, the greedy stallion!” He spat the last words as if they left a foul taste in his mouth.

“You sound like you don’t respect your father, only fear him.”

“Don’t tell him that!”

“Fear not. Your secret is safe with me.”

He sat next to her and ruffled her mane. “You are soooo Lost’s opposite. He’s always been the cautious one around secrets.”

She batted his hoof away. For the next few hours, they chatted about the war as the sun continued to reach towards the ground, which embraced it in a silent, peaceful, enveloping nightfall. Even while the magic-powered candles and torches began to light the room, they continued to act as real siblings, eventually parting ways to finish their conversation in the morning.

A hooded figure watched the couple in the Buckingham Palace library through a professional sailor’s spyglass. The sailor who owned it was behind him, drowning in a pool of his own dead blood. The sky became night around him, but he paid it no heed, so focused on his target he was. Judging by the mare’s behavior, she was new to the Dominion royal family but experienced in formality. The stallion was well recognized.

The figure took special note of the friendly familiarity between the two. If the Dominion ever reached the technological capacity its citizens’ ancestors had achieved millennia ago, then his superiors would need a bargaining chip. But if the young prince ever learned of the terrible unended war between his ponies and the Protectors of Knowledge, then it would take more than the survival of the Domination bloodline to stop him.

Author's Note

Ever since I started creating this AU, I've had the Dominion's people move from place to place, starting at the modern-day Crystal Empire and heading west, eventually ending where they are now. The reason for it was a technologically advanced civilization of sorts that essentially attacked them for achieving the kinds of things we take for granted: basic electricity, plumbing, etc, among a few others. But until now, I was unsure of them in every aspect of their... well... I still don't know a lot about them, and I'm the friggin creator. I also wasn't sure how to tie them into the actual story as a physical, menacing entity that's "out there", unknown to all but the Dominion, and even then in legend.

I guess the mystery is actually a good thing, because then it isn't as hard for me to make them look mysterious. The less I know about them, the less can slip in my writing. However, if you've read all my other TRSR stories here on fimfiction, then you may have seen the hints I've dropped. If you didn't, you may know what to look for now. You'll be surprised at how long I've been hinting at this civilization.

Thoughts on these guys?

60. What Are You Doing In My Swamp?

Sergeant Rolling Plains, better known as Sarge, flicked the muck off of his hooves as he crawled out of the marshy soil, resting only when he passed the mushy mess most of his AREA segment marched--or more appropriately, sloshed--through. So far, there wasn’t a sign of enemy activity, and he could see why. Not only did the swamplands reek of rotting trees and drowning quicksand, they deployed them in abundance. Nopony lived here, as far as anyone knew, but it was apparently a good source of an unrefined version of the liquid used to fuel the Summercrest Project.

All the more reason to hate this place, Sarge thought. The Navy likes it.

The trees were thinly spread, but their extensive root systems stretched almost parallel to the ground and were islands of stable soil in a sea of quicksand and brackish water. The ponies around Sarge took advantage of them whenever they could, camping on their roots and resting in their shade from the mid-morning sun. These instinctual measures did little to comfort anyone, though, as oppressive heat beat through their coats and humidity thicker than Haven Cove’s tropical climate kept sweat clinging to their skins. Not even Sarge was exempt from a sweat-soaking and dips into marshwater that never cooled.

He was contemplating his misfortune in being assigned here when a corporal sloshed way into his vision. “Sir, there’s a small hut not far up the road,” he reported, pausing slightly at the uncertainty of calling the path he’d likely made himself a road. “Local family, sir. Friendly.”

“Take me to them.”

“Aye, sir. Follow me.” He led Sarge through the swamp, stopping several times as he racked his memory for quicksand. Twice, he had to backtrack a few steps, but the hut soon emerged from behind the trees. An elderly stallion sat on a bench swing hung from its raised front porch, a sturdier floor underneath him. Sarge climbed the wooden lip, flung mud from his legs, and focused on the local.

“You in the Army?” the stallion asked.

“Not the Army,” Sarge admitted, “but the Atlantean Reserve Emergency Army. It’s a different entity, and much more successful.”

“Ah,” the stallion nodded. “The Army wasn’t any good anyway. Too poorly trained and stripped down in favor of naval forces.”

“But we can’t be everywhere at once. Even with the Queen’s planned merger to place the Army under AREA’s jurisdiction, we just don’t have the numbers. Is there anything you can do to help?”

The stallion swung on his bench swing for a minute as he gathered his thoughts. The swing creaked from age and the tops of the trees around whistled in the wind they blocked from reaching the ground. Slowly, the rest of Sarge’s detachment gathered around to camp for the night, hanging hammocks from branches rather than erecting tents.

“I’m too old to fight, as you can see,” the stallion said. “My fighting days are long done. But if you ever need a place to rest, don’t hesitate to stop by.” He closed his eyes and leaned back for a second, exposing a small gold medal tucked under his jacket.

“Forgive me for asking, sir, but where did you get that medal?” Sarge asked.

The stallion opened his jacket, showing half a dozen different medals and awards. “This one?” he asked, gesturing to the most prominent medal. It was pinned to the jacket near the top and bore a decorative purple and gold embroidery.

Sarge nodded affirmance.

“This is a hand-me-down from my grandfather and his grandfather before him about six times, from my dozen-great grandfather. He fought in the Revolution at Emberforge.”

It took a second for Sarge to realize the significance. History had a tendency to repeat itself, and this war was no different. “Emberforge,” he breathed. “The Emberforge Stand. It’s one of the most famous battles of the time. Even the Doms recognize it as a great fight, and they thought of us as weak-willed farmers!”

The stallion smiled. “And so they do, because it was a great battle. My dozen-great grandfather, Mythic Spirit, was there. That battle solidified our independence, but it also showed us that ponies weren’t the only ones willing to fight. Thestrals fought and died there and were buried heroes. In fact, as I recall, the entire Neptune thestral line died there minus their youngest, whom they left in his care. She later revived her family line and honored their sacrifice with a monument to stand the test of time.”

“The Marelington Squadron,” Sarge remembered.

“Indeed. But I’m sure you know Mythic Spirit’s story.”

“I just know he died protecting our wounded with nothing more than a club he held in his tired, weakening magic.”

“Oh, it’s so much more than that. He first fought on the front lines a support element, using his magic to supplement any of our boys who went down. As we were forced to retreat, he continued to do that, but he began to lift our wounded back with us. Others followed his example, and we reached the secondary and even tertiary lines without losing a single pony who hadn’t been killed. But we had no fourth line. The Doms eventually broke past that third line, that final line, and swarmed into our camp. That’s where we had our hospital tent. Mythic Spirit took one look at it and galloped five miles to the camp. He was the only one to do so, but he single-hoofedly defended the field hospital for over and hour before the Doms finally took him down. By then, unengaged units came in and pushed the Doms back out. Mythic Spirit became the ‘legend of Emberforge’, the Doms called him, as he fought like a hundred stallions.

“There are reports of a field nurse fought alongside him, and that she not only used her own magic, but also boosted his, and even sprouted wings and flew. Alas, her existence was never proven, as a nurse or an alicorn, and so the official report says Mythic was alone. I know better. He knew better. He said she was there, but nopony ever knew she existed.”

“Then how did she do it? Did she clean everypony’s memory?”

“That’s exactly how she disappeared from the battle despite fighting there. She erased her existence from her friends and foes with a single spell.”

“How do you know she did it, then?” a curious lieutenant asked. He and several other officers had converged on the two to hear the story.

“She did not erase Mythic Spirit’s memory of her, and eventually fell in love and married him. That is how I know.”

“So you’re related to an alicorn?”

“Distant, but true.”

Sarge grinned. “It doesn’t matter, Lieutenant. Sir, how would you like for your family to defend our country once again?”

“I’m pushing sixty, soldier. I don’t know what I can really do.”

“Intelligence. Infrastructure. From what I hear, we need some stuff here to fuel some new Navy projects, and we’ll need a base to get it. We also need anything you can do to hold this swamp and get accurate intel about enemy movements in the future.”

“I’ll get my son on the heavy lifting. I can be an administrator, but that’s about it now.”

“Wonderful. When can you get started?”

“Tomorrow morning. My son comes home from Griffonstone then. He usually brings his friends with him, so we’ll have a small force spread through the area. The Doms won’t take this swamp if we have anything to say about it.”

“Thank you, sir.” Sarge turned around and saw the congregation of ponies setting up the night’s camp. “Well, then. We move out in the morning. Head for the Winterwall Forest.”

“Sir, that’s a hundred miles to the east!” a lieutenant exclaimed. “It isn’t in our campaign area.”

“I know,” Sarge replied. “And there’s a damn good chance the Doms do, too. We finally got a report from the Second Coastal earlier, and they think the Doms have been infesting the entire country for at least a few years before this war started. Think! We could have Doms in the higher command. Queen Atlanta switched out her old high general for Continuum, what? Five years ago?”

“Eight,” a captain supplied.

“Yeah. The war’s been on for nearly three years. That means that any Doms in the higher command structure have had five years to solidify their positions. We act in coordination with General Silvercrest and Colonel Treetop from now on. If Atlanta explicitly gives us an order, we’ll obey it, but she has to give it directly. No letters. Don’t follow anything from the higher command except Atlanta’s direct orders, because it could be a ruse to get us out of the way. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the officers chorused.

“Good.” Sarge heaved his shoulders. “This is gonna be a long war if we can’t trust our own generals.”

Author's Note

Title has nothing to do with what happens. It just sounded fun.

This chapter was hard to write, mostly because I had no idea what to write. Most of the gap between the last chapter and this one was filled with working on My Little Destroyermen, video games, exams, and other stories. I have made a general plan for the next few chapters, though, so I "should" be able to do them relatively easily.

61. Early Warning

Queen Atlanta absent-mindedly brushed her hoof through her mane as she waited. Diplomacy always made her nervous, even more so than war. Her crown was situated on her at a tired angle, and bags hung from her eyes. Despite her weariness, she sat tall and regal, her stance imposing rightful authority on her simple but elegant throne. Stained glass windows shimmered various hues onto the floor, which was covered in a simple red carpet. Very few things in Atlanta’s throne room were highly decorated, but existed out of tradition.

The throne itself was made from a rich polished ebony wood and accentuated with bright cherry highlights. Intricate designs were carved into the throne that detailed the story of Atlantis’ revolution from Dominion control and won independence. It rested at the top of a stepped pedestal and was surrounded by matching mage torches, which were always lit with a mystical blue flame. Atlanta thought it ironic that the most ponies in the Dominion still considered Atlantis part of their empire, yet the war for independence had been fought three centuries ago. Even now, when she waited for the annual Dominion dignitaries to arrive, they always considered her a lesser citizen, a subject of the Dominion will.

“Are they outside?” she asked a guard in polished bronze armor.

“Yes, my Queen. They arrived a few minutes ago. We’ve been checking for weapons.”

“By all means, let them in! I can take care of myself should one of them be an assassin.”

The guard signaled to another by the great polished oak doors that connected the throne room to the hallway outside. He opened the doors and admitted the group of dignitaries. “His Excellency Splinted Shield, plenipotentiary of the Dominion of Apollo.”

“You forgot most of my titles,” Shield grumped.

“I honestly don’t know them.”

“Hmm.” Shield strode to the beginning of the steps. “You know exactly what we wish for, Queen Atlanta.” His ironic stress on her ruling title was not lost on the queen.

“And you know exactly what my answer will be. Atlantis will not surrender unless your armies march upon my door and trample my floors, until the great fortresses that guard our harbors have fallen, until you have utterly crushed the hope that we will one day be free. Until the day comes that Jagged Edge sits upon my throne and holds me by the chain, I will never submit. And if I submit, my ponies will know the fiery rage and burning fury that I fought with, and they will not see me as the one who left them to suffer, but who defended them until I myself was overwhelmed. There will be no concessions.”

Shield took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Then we have no more business here. I shall wait aboard my ship if you change your mind in the next few days.”

As the main dignitary left, a younger stallion with a shadow-gray coat stepped forward. “If you please, your highness, I request a private audience. I bear a message from Crown Prince Flawless Ice to you.”

Atlanta was taken aback by his attitude. “Of course. Who are you?”

“Lost Legacy, ma’am.”

“Well, if you have a message from your crown prince for me to hear, then it must be important enough for you to breach protocol. Is this message confidential?”

“Yes.”

She looked up to where Splintered Shield stood shocked at Lost Legacy’s breach. “I will send for you if my decision changes, Mr. Shield. You may go.”

When the doors closed behind Shield, Lost unfolded a crumpled note from his pocket. He gave it to a guard, who then handed it to Atlanta. She scanned it for the main points, and her eyes widened. “Are you sure about this, Mr. Legacy?”

“Yes, your highness. I saw it myself when we left port in Amyfalone. They’ve been heading south for several days now, hugging the coast. They’ll reach your naval hub in Summercrest and flatten it with their cannons.”

“This was a very dangerous thing for you to do, possibly treasonous to your country.” Her response cut short for a minute as she used a scrying spell to find the fleet in the note. Returning to the present, she nodded. “It is indeed coming this way, not four days from Whitecap Point. You have my most profound gratitude, Mr. Legacy, both you and Prince Flawless Ice.”

“There was another thing that wasn’t in the note,” he said. “Flawless said that he found a princess named Blossom, and that she’d been taken from her home in southwestern Atlantis. She was a Changeling. He currently has the King thinking she will make an excellent heir should the need arise, and is sheltering her in Buckingham Palace as an adoptive sister.”

Familiarity glinted in her eyes. “Yes, I know of her. Queen Echo is going to be very relieved to hear that her daughter is found.”

“I don't recommend rescuing her, though. Not yet.”

“Of course. Upon your return, please relay my gratitude, and also inform Princess Blossom that a plan is in the works, but we may need several years to execute. Breaking her out of the Dominion capital will not be an easy task.”

“I will. Now, if you have no further requests, I take my leave.” Atlanta shook her head, so Lost Legacy bowed, then turned and left.

Indianapolis was met with cheers as her massive steel bulk slid into place and dropped anchor at the newly built refueling pier in Haven Cove. The Mega Peninsula, thanks to the swampy delta to the north, was the perfect place for a fuel refinery. Raw petroleum, used to tar the stays on sailing rigs, bubbled up from the ground and was therefore extremely easy to access compare to other areas such as Summercrest.

In a rookie-like fashion, the yard ponies handed the fuel lines to their shipboard counterparts, who in turn set them up to fill the tanks with practiced ease. Shore pumps rumbled to life, and the cruiser’s lifeblood flowed to fill her grumbling bunkers once more.

Nightmane sighed contentedly. It was good to have fuel, supplies, and ammunition again. Haven Cove would be producing everything Indianapolis required due to its central location on the Atlantean coast, as well as ship said items to Summercrest, Nautinia, and other naval bases. But for the next few months, they'd have to come here while the supply ships were built.

And what a grand sight those are, he thought as he watched the shipyard on the south side of the harbor. A dozen were currently in drydock, in varying stages of construction, with a further fifteen planned. Three test ships were approaching now, utilizing their wide bottoms to support two cranes and a heavy load of black-powder explosive shells. Their bronze penetrators could go through any wooden hull the Dom threw at them, and their contact fuses were the same ones used in Atlantean artillery for structural damage. During a defensive war, few opportunities to use them would present themselves on land, but they didn't need to preserve the structural integrity of an enemy frigate, did they?

He was leaning against the bridgewing rail, watching the transfer, when Lieutenant Commander Autumn Sparklewood tapped on his shoulder. “Lupus, I've been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes.”

“Problem?”

“Yes, sir, but not out here. The Queen is in the conference room right now.”

“WHAT?” he exclaimed. “She’s here? No warning?”

“That's what I said.”

“Harmony! Take me.”

As she lead him through the winding companionways, he smoothed his mane and brushed his coat. Despite all his attempts to stay tidy, Indianapolis’s facilities just weren't enough, as they were built for tall bipeds with little fur. But by the time he reached the conference room, or rather, the resident admiral’s flag quarters, he was somewhat more presentable. One more smoothing of his mane, and he pulled the hatch open.

“Mr. Nightmane,” Atlanta said as he entered. She nodded in his direction. He took a moment to admire her dress: orange sunsteel armor with gold-plated hoofguards. A diamond-encrusted gold diadem rested atop her head, keeping her ocean-green mane out her face. “There has been a change in plan.”

“Is the war ending? Maybe it's the shipyards. I never did get around to expanding the drydocks…”

“I wish the end was near, but no such luck adorns our futures. No, we are in even graver danger than ever, and I have come to personally give you this directive.”

“That implies something truly dangerous, if you aren't willing to risk a communications failure.”

“Indeed, Mr. Nightmane.” She stood and lit her horn, causing the conference table to grow a map. “A Dominion fleet is approaching Summercrest, and will arrive in a few days’ time. You must sail there as quickly as your ship will allow. A flat-top designed to carry aircraft based on the ones we've recovered from this vessel has already departed from Nautinia. They will certainly be less capable, being made of wood, but their engines are sound and their weapons bear true.”

“Weapons? Like explosives?”

“Yes, but some will carry variants of our standard rifle, built to accommodate large amounts of bullets and fire them quickly. If we can make them, so can the Dominion, and I will not risk losing Pacifica to such a threat even if it does not yet exist. We have spent two years building her, learning everything from scratch. Perhaps a fleet of her class will rise in the future, but as it is, we can barely crew her with enough ponies to fly her entire fleet of aircraft with decent fliers.”

“Forgive me, but I do not understand. We have a carrier of aircraft. How?”

“The very technology Indianapolis has provided us has made it possible. Never before has anypony in the world built such a ship! Soon, though, we will have the ability to land them on cleared ground, but I doubt the war will give us the chance to actually do it. Materiel and ponies are hard to come by. It is also just as likely that our assets will sink, and our accomplishments with them.”

“We can't let a chance like this to slide, then. This will test our designs, but it will expose them to utter destruction.”

“Trial by fire, Mr. Nightmane. Trial by fire.” With that, Queen Atlanta disappeared in a flash of light. She'd teleported back to Nautinia, now that her objective was complete. That didn't mean it was over--far from it. He sent for his officers and filled them in once everyone arrived. The general consensus among them was that this new “carrier” was indispensable. They also agreed that the two catapults unloaded just days before at Nautinia were most decidedly not on Pacifica, since she'd likely lower aircraft into the water, and the pilots would go from there.

“Make all preparations for getting underway. We head out at sixteen hundred hours,” Nightmane finally ordered. “I want all supplies aboard and secure by then. Autumn, inform the harbormaster of our intentions, and have all ships able to fight make for Summercrest. Commander Violet--”

“Yes, sir,” his XO said. “Triple-check all incoming supplies, round up the crew, and don't forget to look for saboteurs.”

Read my mind. He smiled. “That's it.”

Nightmane watched as mooring lines were cast off, splashing into the peaceful channel between Indianapolis and the pier. Even as the last stragglers bounded across the gangway, cranes lowered supplies to the cruiser’s deck. Beyond the rapidly expanding Haven Cove industrial district, the orange sun had nearly reached the horizon, its soft golden tendrils wrapping around towers and trees. A full moon rose in the east, behind him, ready to guide fifteen ships to the line of battle.

He took a moment to watch the hastily organized fleet. Most were large seaweed fishers fitted with cannon, but there were a couple frigates. All flew the Atlantean naval jack. Their hulls were creaky and old, but stout and streamlined. On a good wind, these fifteen-year-old ships could make ten or twelve knots--with a calm sea, upwards of fifteen. They had to, to ride the squalls that came in from the south. If anything in the Navy was a constant, it was that all ships had to be able to sail eight knots minimum and fight in a heavy squall--at the same time.

Seaweed trawlers were probably tougher than actual naval vessels. Their hulls were three planks deep, which made them wider, but they compensated with a longer shape and diagonal cross-bracing. The wood used was a mix between Summercrest’s swamp oaks, strong and light, with the Cove’s own rot-resistant birches and disease-resistant spruces from the Whispering Mountain northern taiga forests. Some had cross-breeds between the three trees, which somehow worked fantastically well. Their masts only stood three-quarters as tall as a frigate’s, but their yards hung wider and there were three. Their cargo capacity was impressive, as was their ability to easily accept heavy modification. They were stable gun platforms and made good escorts.

He finally looked back at the pony working the Helm. “All engines ahead full,” he ordered. “Hold course at a bearing of eighty-five degrees absolute.” As Indianapolis began its leisurely turn to port, out of the center of the bay, he said, “We’ll make it in time.”

“I hope.”

Author's Note

I'm back! I have the next few chapters planned (generally), but it could still take a while for each to go up. In the meantime, this is the update that took a couple months of on-off writing to make.

62. Whispers in the Highlands

General Moonshine Silvercrest pricked her ears to the north. She thought she’d heard gunfire, but her advance unit was ten miles ahead--too far for her to hear it. It was also mid-morning, which meant her entire army was rested and alert.

Against possible Dom attack, Silvercrest’s army employed a layered defense. The farthest out were the pickets. They covered all flanks of both the advance force and the main army, and acted as couriers and runners when needed. Then the advance force and rearguard covered the front and back. If the situation degenerated still, the main camp would be the final fallback point, much like a castle’s keep. The last place to go unguarded would be the hospital, and the Doms would have to take that over every Atlantean’s cold, dead body. That wasn’t policy. It was practice.

As she looked around for the source of the noise, she heard her second-in-command, a blue Earth pony stallion named Epicenter, approach. He’d been the leading earthquake scientist in Atlantis, but when Pacifica was retaken and the horrors revealed, he brandished his great-times-seven-grandfather’s officer’s sword and donned the uniform. Most ponies had some connection to the Atlantean Revolution, and Epicenter was no different. Rising through the ranks with skill and wisdom passed down through the generations, he quickly earned his current rank of Colonel and position as Executive Officer of the Atlantean Reserve Emergency Army--First Corps.

“General, a runner from the Third Delta reports a ‘massive Dominion force’ blocking the road. They believe that we could be surrounded at any moment, and are retreating to our position. I’ve already ordered the Fifth Tideless to keep the road clear as best they can and deployed all other regiments in epicenter formation,” he said, referring to a circular pattern that was most effective at defending an open area like the camp (the term was interchangeable with point formation). He’d actually designed it based off of an earthquake’s destructive waves, which dissipated as they radiated out similarly to a thinning battle line.

“We need more information about our predicament. Make sure that happens. If we are indeed being encircled, move south, back the way we came. There’s a stream we can use to halt them. But if we go--” she glanced skyward, where a thundercloud was building against the Whispering Mountains, ready to pour enough rain to flood the unprepared highland waters. “We must move quickly. That stream is a good four hours away, and that looks like a big storm.”

The sharp crack of a distant gunshot pierced the air, and both turned their ears to the north. A moment later, another came, then another. It soon escalated into an endless wave that washed over the hills and through the sparse highland forest. When it reached a dull roar, Silvercrest noticed smoke curling to form a hemisphere around her army.

“Pull back,” she said. “They’re trying to surround us. Pull back! Leave the camp.”

Epicenter saw a similar problem before she finished the order and bolted to the outlying regiments. Under his command, the corps quickly moved to retreat, but he could tell that they were already dejected. Telling them why they had to move didn’t help either. They were running. They faced the enemy and retreated.

The Fifth Tideless reached the mountain stream Silvercrest had remembered ahead of the rest of First Corps. They weren’t the first. As soon as they cleared the trees, a hailstorm of bullets mowed them down like a weed hacker. Their rear elements dove back, but the highland trunks proved too sparse to provide decent cover. Only a minute had already passed and the entire regiment was down.

Back at the main force, Silvercrest heard the shots and realized her mistake. In calling for a retreat, she assumed that her rear was clear all the way back. She’d forgotten about Doms being behind her rearguard at just enough distance to remain undetected.

“Epicenter, fall into point formation!” she called. “We’re surrounded!”

The Earth pony sprung into action before she finished. In seconds, dirt flew to build hasty earthworks, while cannon was mounted at intervals. Every gun was already loaded, every post manned, every officer smudging their shiny rank pieces. Silvercrest rubbed some extra mud on hers with one hoof as a precaution while the other held her officer’s pistol steady. Her wings, used to delicate procedures, subconsciously unsheathed her short sword and rubbed it against the dirt, simultaneously tapping the pistol trigger lightly. Epicenter finally came to her with the readiness report just as she finished.

“General, we have enough supplies for a week, since we keep a reserve in the wagons. Ammunition is at five hundred per, and the chain of command is stable. Runners are ready,” Epicenter finally reported, breathing heavily. “Damn, the air is really thin up here. Really gets to you.”

“Winter, too. Oh, it’s going to get chilly,” the general agreed. She looked back to the north. “And we left most of our stuff, too. Harmony damn it.”

Thunder boomed in the distance. The two turned west, where the storm had ballooned since first meeting the Doms that day, building up against the highest peaks. It began to unleash its energy in a dark cumulation of weather and magic, swirling like a hurricane with the white torrents of snow usually associated with a blizzard descending onto rocky outcroppings and lone pines. The eye of the storm was completely invisible from this angle, but it could be found based on the rotating anvil clouds towering above the entire system.

“A Whispering Highlands snowstorm. Harmony damn it, indeed,” Epicenter echoed.

Author's Note

Well, this is a short one, but this story's been on the backburner for a while now. I just now returned to work on it after all sorts of other activities.

63. Storm Rigging

Even as dozens of ships from both sides of the conflict converged on the continental corner, the citadels guarding Nautinia Bay stowed their cannons and constructed earthworks as their garrisons prepared for the coming onslaught. Never again would the Atlantean capital be left as vulnerable as it was during the siege a year before.

Using the palace and fortresses as fallback points, they dug day in and night out, from dawn to dusk. They shored up the outlying sides of their trenches with wooden beams and flattened the land into a killing ground. Cannons were placed at overlapping intervals. Ammunition stockpiles were dug, barracks and dugouts were constructed, and the palace guard conducted regular patrols of the area.

Five layers of trenches, each separated by a three-quarters-mile no-mare’s-land and intertwined through several zigzagging trenches, were built around the city. Every quarter mile, a miniature fort of fallen trunks and earthen mounds supported four citadel-grade artillery pieces, one for every forty-five degrees that had to be covered. At the farthest trench from the city, over a hundred of these would be in place.

The entire defense plan would take an estimated four years to fully develop if resources were not reallocated to AREA and the Navy. But with the war’s end still far over the horizon, Atlanta believed it could be fifteen years before it was complete and mared. For now, she wanted the first layer complete before midsummer, the second in three years, and the third in five. The fourth and fifth would be done by the eighth and eleventh, respectively.

Even with time-prediction spells, it was not certain how the war would shape by then. The only hope was that Atlantis never needed that final inner trench ringing the city.

Ever.

The Narrow Ocean, fifty miles northeast of Whitecap Point

Commodore Evergreen spun the ship’s wheel hard to starboard to counter a sudden gust of wind pushing her ship, the Mermaid-class battlewagon Chesapeake to port. In response, a splash of sea spray salted her eyes and drenched her dark, rain-soaked brown coat.

The skies around Chesapeake were a foreboding dark gray without a single patch of light. Stormy clouds rejected the sun’s comforting rays with a cold hatred, channeling their energies into the ocean through blinding lightning strikes, while howling winds whipped the waters off Whitecap Point into a sailor’s hell. Even the large Atlantean battlewagons were tossed in the rolling waves, and at least two of Evergreen’s smaller escorts had been smashed against the Whitecap reef. No survivors.

The gun deck lit up on the port side as each cannon discharged its shot into the screaming air, hoping to hit the Dominion frigate bouncing over crests and digging into troughs a few hundred yards away. At the same time, the Doms fired back. Most shots were swallowed by the ocean, never to see the sky again. Some did make it, and her crew let out a cheer as the frigate’s mainmast came crashing to the deck.

Far in the distance, several other ships exchanged shots, each with about the same amount of luck Chesapeake had, which was close to none. Atlantean rigs carried a red storm flare atop each mast, lit with magic and blinking in an identifying interval. The Doms used bright yellow, comparable to the sun with their clarity, and they never blinked. It was difficult to see, but stern lanterns could be seen behind the blanketing rain.

Evergreen felt the wind change and knew she was in trouble. Instead of coming in along the beam or from the stern, it blasted her face with its icy breath--from the bow. Standard rigging procedures called to keep the stern somewhat pointed into the wind for the most part with some canvas set in an attempt to prevent the ship from broaching. This was crucial to maintaining steerageway during a storm.

The topsails fluttered as they were battered from their filled humps to flowing sheets wrapped around their skinny masts. Still tied to the yards, the sheets failed to fold completely and acted as reverse sails, putting enormous strain on the masts. She could already hear the mainmast groaning.

“Untie the sheets! They’re gonna dis--”

CCCCRRRAAAACCKKKKK!!!!

With a bone-chilling break, the mainmast snapped loose just above the lowest yardarm and tumbled aft. Its twisted yards smacked into the mizzen from port, bringing the whole mess over the side in a tangled heap. Ropes, sheets, mast, and all hit the waves and pulled Chesapeake into a list. The last thing Evergreen saw before she blacked out was a split rig coming at her like a whip.

Author's Note

Yeah, a short one, but I just got done with an essay. I have my reasons.

I might alternate between Silvercrest and Evergreen for the next couple of chapters. This one and the last were mostly situational setup.

1. Something In The Water

The deep red Pegasus Crimson Dawn walked through the front door of his family home. He was about average height for a pony, average speed in the air, and average in just about everything else. An introvert, he had few friends, but trustworthy ones. But in a small town such as Summercrest, that was all he needed.

Summercrest was situated at the southeast continental corner, six hundred nautical miles due east of Nautinia, the capital and shining jewel of Atlantis. It was a quiet fishing town, but that’s what the townsponies preferred. As standard with district capitals, a naval base sat along the waterfront, but its ships were never ready for sail, sitting incomplete in the standard base drydock. They could be used for fast corvettes in theory, but Double NC (Nautinia Center of Naval Command) never authorized it. Speculation said the “top dogs” just didn’t receive the message, but conventional wisdom argued that they ignored it.

Crimson’s home was not a cloud-house, like many Pegasi, but a large wooden dwelling on the ground. Many members of his family were Unicorns or Earth ponies, so building a cloud didn’t make much sense. The house sat near the western edge of town, its added-on stone towers barely visible over the many “swamp oak” trees that inhabited the Summercrest Forest. Over the years, generations built more and added on, since the growing family almost never moved away from town. It currently encompassed eleven acres of land, surrounded by a small but self-sufficient farm. Many add-ons had been built as treehouses, extending the actual house to more like twenty acres. A human would’ve said the place resembled an Ewok village surrounded by a stone wall.

The cobblestone bottom floor had the dining hall, metalworking shop, kitchen, and the lower part of the extensive five-floor library rivaling the Canterlot Archives in volume. Living quarters for the family took up the upper floor and treehouse areas. The multipurpose building served as the library for the district and the courthouse when necessary. A five-acre storage shack sheltered by twenty swamp oaks served as the district surplus, used when disasters occurred or when a neighboring district had to call for more. Towers made from northern granite and local quartz had been a community Hearth’s Warming gift to the large family one year, and they stood proudly above the forest.

Leftover rock from the towers was given back to the town and used to upgrade the lighthouse and little-used harbor facilities. At night, one could stand at the top of the tallest tower and see the Summercrest Lighthouse, its Unicorn-magic flame shining brightly through even the worst of squalls.

An adequate shipbuilding industry had sprung up when the swamp oaks were discovered to be better for fishing boats that the standard-issue material, but it was nothing compared to Nautinia and others, which could pump out an entire combat-ready brig in three days.

Everything accounted for a quiet town in a quiet district. And that was what Crimson and his friends enjoyed, for the most part. Being the adventurous teens they were, Crimson, Platinum Starlight, Bats, and a few others tended to cause more than a little mischief. But everypony else said it was a phase, and a bunch a guys together tends to mess thing up.

The shiny metallic Unicorn Platinum Starlight met Crimson at their usual place by the newsstand. “Red, did you hear? That old Dominion’s gettin’ tired of us not bein’ in their borders!”

“Really? King Jagged Edge’s getting aggressive? There’s a reason I like Flawless Ice better. His head is much cooler.”

Bats Nightmane, an Earth pony from the harbormaster’s family, walked up. “I heard. We’re gonna have a war on! That actually sounds kind of fun.”

They were interrupted by Crimson’s multicolored-quartz sister, Crystal Shard. “Hey, guys! I found this big… thingamabob while up the lighthouse! It’s metal and off the coast! We should go check it out!”

“Guys? One last adventure before signing up for boot camp?” Crimson asked.

“You bet!” came the chorus of replies.

The group headed to Bats’ sailing boat he had yet to test over open water. It was made by hand, keeping the friends occupied on something besides romping around the woods for once. It had a strange triangular sail, a low-riding hull with high sides, and two crossbows mounted on either side to defend from the larger fish that might come looking for a snack.

“Her maiden voyage. What’re we callin’ her?” asked Platinum.

Bats stared at the sleek vessel floating by his family’s dock, thinking. “Juno. Juno Eclipse,” he finally replied.

They boarded the newly christened boat and cast off. Bats took the tiller, steering Juno Eclipse away from the many boats of the fishing fleet and out of the harbor. Glancing down, he saw the others nodding their appreciation at their own craftsmanship. The seals held well, the unfurled sail strained against the mast, and she was flying through the water, her bow slicing the sea apart like a hot knife on butter.

Once out of the sheltered waters of Lunar Crescent Bay, the choppy waves splashed up against the hull, with only the tallest coming over onto the deck. Platinum picked up a bucket with his magic and bailed them back out. The fairly unpredictable squalls of this part of the Celestial Sea were nowhere in sight as if some magical force had sucked them from the world. It was cause enough for the young crew to worry, but they really wanted to see the wreck Crystal Shard described.

It didn’t take long to notice the gray ship just sitting there in the shallows, her hull resting on a sandbar a few miles from shore. The proud number 35 was painted on her bow, barely seen with a ten-inch hole and warped steel right above it. On top, a large skeleton on a ship showed warped, blackened metal from fire and a soaked interior. Several large holes revealed twisted steel and broken machinery below the waterline. Crimson took off and flew to the deck.

“Woah! Look at these big bumps with tubes! That’s, like, sixteen inches in diameter! Wonder what’s in there. Hello?”

His call returned as a bunch of mixed-up echoes. “Cool.”

“By Celestia! This thing is huge!” cried Bats, who took his attention off the tiller just long enough to look.

“Make for that hole in there. The really big one,” Crystal said. She flew to the indicated hole and looked inside. “Did we bring torches? Wait, never mind; there’s a whatsit in here. But we might need a torch anyway to light it.” After a moment, she mumbled, “If it can be lit.”

Platinum lit a torch and levitated it to the mare. She gestured to what looked like an opening and he rammed it in. The thing suddenly made a bunch of noise and the entire ship lit up. Crimson cried his surprise from on the deck as the other end of the tube sprang to life.

“Park here and try not to scratch her, Bats. I’ll teleport us up once you do that.” Platinum then helped the Earth pony hauled the small anchor over the side and into the sandbar, held to Juno Eclipse with a thick rope. When all was well and done, his horn lit up and the two ended up on the rotting wooden deck. Crimson and Crystal flew over and landed.

“This place, Red. This place.”

“I know. Let’s go inside.”

All four walked through what was obviously a door meant for a really tall creature and found a ladder. They chose up and precariously walked, finally reaching the command room with sunlight streaming through its shattered windows. Crystal turned to her right and shrieked. Crimson whirled around and saw it too. Shudders shot through his entire body as he tried unsuccessfully to keep calm. There was a creature. Dead. Eaten by underwater animals looking for a meal. The rusty nameplate read: Johnson.

Bats came up with a mug that read: Captain - USS Indianapolis - CA-35. He asked where the ship could’ve come from. But none of the others were able to give him answer, so fixed were they on the bipedal skeleton.

“Do you think that guy owned the cup?” Platinum managed to say.

“Maybe. But he wasn’t next to it.”

“Crimson finally tore his eyes from the biped. “No. It isn’t his. That cup was next to the captain’s seat, yes?”

“Yes.”

“This guy looks like he was an ensign based on what’s left of his uniform. Also, that hat remnant on his head says ‘Gunno.’ I don’t know what it means, but sure doesn’t translate to ‘Captain.’”

“What should we do?” Platinum asked. All heads turned to Crimson.

Deep breath. “We go home. This place probably has more dead things in it, and I’ve had enough of that for one day. Bring the cup. We’ll show it to Bat’s father.”

“How may I help you, Bats?” the harbormaster asked his son.

A gulp. “We found a metal thing off the coast. It’s stuck in the sandbar to the south.”

“Really? What have you colts - and mare - been doing?”

Crimson pulled the mug out of his bag. “We found this, sir. Along with-” he shuddered- “dead things.”

The harbormaster levitated the mug with his Unicorn magic. “Interesting. I can see that this is the captain’s - wait, USS? That don’t make sense.” He’d let his near-perfect Equestrian slip from the surprise. “I mean, there’s ENS for Equestrian vessels, ANS for ours, DNV for the Dominion, and HMNV for Griffonstone, but I’ve never seen a USS designation! You’ve found a ship from another country - one we never knew existed!”

Crystal Shard spoke up. “Here’s another thing I found.” She pulled a previously-soaked book, presumably a journal or log, and gave it to the harbormaster.

Opening it, he exclaimed, “Ho, ho, ho! USS Indianapolis (CA-35), United States Navy. Captain’s log. Oh, my.” He continued reading. “I can’t believe it! This tells of a war between two technologically advanced countries, with great battles, operations - sweet Celestia, a secret mission!” He straightened. “Thank you. I will have to personally bring this to Queen Atlanta’s attention. This Indianapolis will be used for something, I assure you!”

Author's Note

Comment if you can tell me what Juno Eclipse is a reference to!

ENS = Equestrian Naval Ship
ANS = Atlantean Naval Ship
DNV = Domination Naval Vessel
HMNV = His Majesty's Naval Vessel
USS = United States Ship

USS Indianapolis was sunk by Japanese torpedo hits on her starboard bow in July 1945. Her honorable service will not be forgotten.

Feedback Appreciated!

14. The Battle of Emberforge Valley Part 1

Emberforge Valley: seven hundred square miles of lush vegetation between two highland ridges a hundred pony-heights tall. Its soft, expansive curve went from Mount Emberforge all the way to the Nautilus River, a north-south tributary of the long, winding Aquarius River five hundred miles to the east. The area was filled with lively forests that flourished from the extinct state of the nearby volcano. Rolling plains and flowery meadow dotted the valley like a spotted leopard. Even some streams cut through the valley, creating beautiful scenery for the common visitor. Silvercrest regretted the fact that a battle was about to ruin it all.

“Get up!” she cried to her troops. “Get up!”

There was immediate rustle of ponies. One of them blinked a couple times and saw the near panic on the Colonel’s face. “Should we be worrying, ma’am?”

“Yes. We’ve been lured into a trap. The orders are authentic, but they’re wrong. Get the others off the ground!”

The Second Coastal, along with the rest of AREA, had literally had only three hours of sleep while Silvercrest and Sarge watched the growing number of Dominion troops appear as the sun creeped higher into the sky. Eventually, they were greeted by a courier under the flag of truce who showed up to inform them of a coming meeting with the Dominion commander. But the ponies sluggishly woke up and drank some coffee.

A runner came into view. “Colonel, the Sarge says they’re here.”

“Very well. Are the other unit commanders coming as well?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

“No, ma’am. Now.”

A rather wide stallion strode into the sleepy camp flanked by at least a dozen guards. He had an unnaturally golden coat and a glowing mane and tail. His cutie mark, if he had one, was covered by his steel armor and leather uniform. The stallion’s eyes were amber, and they seemed to see everything.

He walked to the table Sarge hastily set up less than five minutes ago. Finding simple chairs for everypony who came, he sat in the one designated for him and waited.

The Atlantean commanders arrived one by one, ending with Silvercrest and Sarge. The colonel began: “What gives us the honor, sir?”

“The honor is mine, really,” the stallion replied. “General Broken Limb, at your service, Colonel Moonshine Silvercrest.”

Sarge stepped up. “Sergeant Rolling Plains, General. Acting commander of the Atlantean Reserve Emergency Army.” He held out his hoof.

Broken Limb took it. “Ah, Sergeant, I apologize. I had completely forgotten your were in charge. Please forgive me.” Then his golden face showed many creases as he frowned. “Down to business: you surrender all of your weapons, logistical equipment, and medical division, and we let you go.”

“Um, excuse me? Were under die-rekt orders not to give you that. Sorry, no can do.”

“I do not wish to destroy your army. However, I can give you a full twenty-four hours to decide.”

A Commander laughed inwardly. “Sir, we can’t just surrender our stuff. If we do, you’ll just take it and then kill us. We won’t have any way to counteract such a situation.”

“You understand hypothetical situations, then? Good. Imagine you have a group of forty to fifty thousand ponies with you. A glorious, well-trained army with three times your number surrounds you and asks for a few things you would never part with. What do you do?”

“Beat the ever-living shit out of them. My boys can handle a couple thousand of yours any day.”

Sarge faceplanted into his hoof. Broken Limb had the most offended look on his face. “Well, I see that you do not need the time I was willing to give you. The Domination Army will have what it wants, and you will not succeed. Defend as much as you will, but you shall not prevail. Good day.” He stood and turned around, leaving the camp quickly.

“Well, shit.” Sarge said.

“That could’ve gone better.” Silvercrest commented.

Crimson held his repeater with his forelegs, scanning the area ahead of him for enemies. He lay belly-down on the ground, behind a bush on the edge of a meadow. “No sign. Move in.”

Platinum and the twins crouched low and burst into the meadow carrying shovels. They dug a few holes and placed a couple “boom spheres” in each, setting up a tripwire around the entire meadow. Then they came back to him.

“All set, Red.” Platinum whispered.

“Good. Report back to Silvercrest while the twins and I set up a nice little surprise for the Doms.”

Northern Lights popped a single bottle he had in his saddlebag and gave it the Crimson, eyeing it carefully. Platinum watched for a minute before heading back to the camp. Crimson nodded to Southern Lights, who measured a miniscule amount of water and dumped it in. The three backed away from the bottle as it bubbled violently and made a lot of fizz. It died down and they crept to it once again.

“Is it dry?” Crimson asked.

“Yep.”

“You two know what to do. I’ll be lookout.”

The twins briskly saluted him. He returned it and took flight, perching himself at the top of a nearby tree. With a pair of binoculars on hand, it should be an easy job. The Dominion was in every direction - north, south, east and west.

Northern Lights gulped. He and his brother had a dangerous task: fill the bottle with experimental high explosive without blowing themselves up. It was easier said than done; they knew what happened to their uncle. He’d exploded trying the same thing. The two worked carefully, measuring to smallest increment possible, mixing the several chemicals with more care than a mother to her newborn filly. Then they poured it gently, gently, carefully into a glass bottle and strung it up in a tree to be set off if anypony came through the area via magic sensor.

Crimson stole a glance down to them. They waved him down. He flew away from the traps and met up with them. “Set?”

“Yeah. Time to wait.”

“They primed for ponies only?”

“Yup.”

“That settles it. Let’s get back before-”BOOOM!!!

The three looked to where the meadow was, expecting a Dominion force to advance through smoke and dust. Instead, the area was more peaceful than a sleeping baby. Crimson darted up and saw the source of the blast: Dominion artillery had begun firing on the main Atlantean campsite.

“This is going to be a long day,” he thought aloud.

Author's Note

What better way to counter a trap than with a trap?

Feedback appreciated.

30. Battlefield Rage (Second Battle of Pacifica Part 5)

“So, rumor has it your regiment picked up a mascot.”

Crimson glared at the obviously inconsiderate officer. “Phoenix Brightwings is not a mascot, nor is she a toy. She’s a filly who needs us to be courteous. It’s a rough time for her.”

“I only said it’s a rumor.”

“But if she takes offense, you’ll have more than a pissed youngster to deal with.”

“My point exactly.”

“Miss Brightwings is under the protection of the Second Coastal, official or not.”

“Which is what I’m saying. You and your regiment have practically adopted the filly, and it’s only been what, three hours?”

Silvercrest coughed, bringing the attention of both ponies to her. “I understand both of you, but we have a battle to win. Crimson, are your troops in position?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. I need you to escort Miss Brightwings to me so I can keep her safe behind our lines. Once that matter is settled, you are clear to engage the enemy. Use any tactics you deem necessary to take that airfield. We have less than a day before Ember arrives from the southeast. Dismissed!”

Crimson snapped a sharp salute and left. After carefully explaining to Phoenix that he’d have to leave her with Silvercrest and bringing the mare to the Colonel, he received an unexpected gift.

The orange Earth pony held up a small toy, a wooden doll she made from scraps in the currently-quiet trenches. It easily fit into his saddlebag. He ruffled her mane in a show of affection, smiling. This was why he signed up in the first place. Because ponies like Phoenix should never go through the experiences she did. Crimson turned back to the trenches, hurrying to his command.

Platinum’s silvery coat glistened in the cloudless sun. A large shadow went over him, causing him to involuntarily look up at the Atlantean airship, cruising over friendly lines. He decided to cast a scrying spell. His horn lit up for a split second, then it flickered out. Damn. The Dominion had some kind of magic-dampening weapon. Peering towards the Dom lines, he noticed a metallic box with an orb on top. A blue magic shield surrounded the orb, which apparently was powered by the box. The Unicorn’s eyes widened in realization. The thing had an area of effect.

Mirage’s courier ran up. “Sir, the Princess reports that all Changeling magic has been dampened.”

“I know. We need to take out that orb.”

One of Janelane’s runners reached him, reporting the same thing. “I’ll tell Warrant Dawn when he gets back. In the meantime, I want Janelane to focus her boys on distracting them. The plan stands.”

“Yes, sir.” Both runners went back to their respective commanders.

After about ten minutes, Crimson’s voice was heard from behind. “Problems?”

“Yes. They got a dampener.”

Crimson pursed his lips. “Shit. We can’t do much until we get there, so the plan stands. It’ll just be a bit harder. Good luck; I’m headed to Mirage.”

“You too.” Platinum stared at the weapon and smug Doms. “We might not live through this one, though.”

DOOO-OOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! The signal horn from the northern Atlantean lines could still be heard from all the way down here. They heralded the Atlantean assault that would drag as many Doms from the airstrip as possible. It was part of a master plan Silvercrest had worked to help their chances, though the dampener may have canceled it out.

A few minutes passed. Then a second signal sounded. Janelane’s “Inside-Outs” immediately began firing into the massive wall of “expendable” Dom soldiers. The enemy fired back, but outside the trench they’d just left, they were sitting ducks. A pall of white smoke blocked vision on both sides. Seeing no other alternative, the Doms dug in.

Platinum watched from the left. As the clock ticked by, each second passing, he grew more and more nervous about his chances. Suddenly, it happened. One of his soldiers called, “They're comin’ at us!”

He shook his thoughts away. Now was not the time for fear. But this isn't built into the plan… He'd just have to deal with it.

The initial charge had momentum, but not the support. He easily batted it away with his three hundred ponies in a two-rank line. As the battle wore on, he resorted to melee combat and repulsed wave after wave of Doms. The line thinned. He stole a glance at the sun. Noon.

Crimson and Mirage stood idle. In less than two minutes, they would show themselves in a flanking position. Several bright flashes erupted to the north: an artillery duel had begun in earnest. With the sun directly overhead, the Changelings would be seen quickly when they attacked. The timing needed to be perfect.

“Come on, Jane, just launch the flare…” Crimson muttered.

A red star flew up into the sky: a special flaming material that burned extremely bright. Mirage smiled and waved her holey hoof in the air. With a whoop, she was over the hill followed by hundreds of Changelings. Crimson sprinted to keep up.

They smashed through the futile resistance and continued on into the depths of the entrenchments. Melee combat quickly picked up, however, when the Doms got it into their heads that they were being flanked. A rapid troop shuffling on the enemy’s part gave Janelane an opportunity to move in, firing at the Doms even as they tried to compensate for the surprise.

Platinum was doing fine, to his credit. He and his boys held their section of the line. But the line did bow inwards a few worrying times, resulting in near-panicky counterattack. Slowly but surely, the Dominion was losing ground as their soldiers either died or fell back. The moment of truth was near. Would the plan work?

Janelane launched a flare. It was time. Platinum called for a pony to come over. “Private, I need you to go get our guys on the far left. I know the Doms have been getting farther that way, but we can do this. Right now we’re at an “L” shape. I want us to come down. We’re going to swing down like a door. When we do, we charge. The Doms will be taken out. Go!”

Another flare. Platinum sounded a horn. The Atlanteans on the far left swung to equalize their position with their comrades. When it was one long line, Platinum rose from the trench, followed by two hundred ponies. They galloped across the field, smashing into the cover-less Doms. the enemy immediately broke apart under the sudden attack.

Janelane charged as she saw Platinum rise. They made it across the field before the Doms knew what hit them. An intense melee ignited and flickered out faster than it started.

Where Crimson and Mirage were, the charge was more difficult because the other two accidentally funneled anypony left into them. It was okay since they had the numbers and skill to give them a buffer. Mirage twirled around as her sword dug into the bones of an enemy and sliced through the muscle. Crimson occasionally fired a round when he had the space.

The two were on opposite ends of the Changeling line, commanding where they were needed. Crimson happened to glance ahead and saw a lump on the ground - right as a Dom stepped on it.

The explosion sent him flying and twirling. He landed on his side, grunting as the landing bashed his brains in. His saddlebag strap parted and its contents spilled across the field. The Pegasus’ face was covered in dirt and grime. He looked around and saw that at least seven others had been knocked around as well. More explosions went off, decimating the entire Changeling front.

Light grey smoke hung low over the battle, choking those who still stood. With the Dom dampener still up, they couldn’t use magic to repel it. Changelings dropped dead on the spot as their smoke-filled lungs gave out and they were shot by the Doms.

Crimson raised his head. Just in front of him was a wooden doll. It took a second for it to click that it was his. Little Phoenix had given it to him right before he went into this mess. A Dom looked at Crimson and picked up the doll, smiling. Noticing the red Pegasus’ reaction, he dropped it and stomped on it, smashing it into the dirt.

Something inside Crimson snapped. That doll, no matter what it was made from and the level of craftmareship that went into it, was made with love. It was a gift. A thank-you from a little mare who’d practically lost all her innocence, to the stallion who tried to comfort her when she escaped. It wasn’t just a doll. It was part of Phoenix Brightwings. Seeing somepony smash it like it was nothing more than a piece of junk filled him with rage.

Crimson stood up. The Dom looked surprised that he could manage it, given his proximity to the mine when it exploded. He raised his gun to shoot.

Crimson got to the kill first. He rammed his body into his opponent and they both tumbled to the ground. Crimson slammed his hoof down on the Dom again and again and again. He didn’t stop even after the Dom began crying for mercy. Pure, cold-blooded rage swelled through Crimson’s veins, and he loved it.

Around him, the Changelings picked themselves off the ground and followed his lead, though more controlled. They took prisoners and rounded up the enemy, pointing guns and swords at the shocked Dominion troops.

Mirage eventually came. She pulled Crimson off his opponent, who was still begging, however weak. He resisted with the strength of complete fury. The Princess won the struggle, finally knocking Crimson upside the head to bring him back to his senses. “Crimson! Look at him! Are you trying to kill somepony with your bare hooves?” She whacked him again when he tried to fight the Dom once more. “Come to your senses! Stop fighting and calm the fuck down!”

The Pegasus stopped. The fire in his eyes burned out. The energy that had been coursing through him stopped. His shoulders slumped as his rage-filled mind finally sorted out its mess. Mirage saw his pupils return to their normal hazel glow instead of their fierce yellow moments ago. He looked down on the Dominion soldier again.

The pony had bloody tears rolling down his grimy, bruised cheeks. His horn had been cracked and splintered by Crimson’s attack. His entire body was a complete mess. His mane and tail were ripped and his gut appeared to have an internal rupture. “Please don’t hurt me…” His shattered voice was barely heard over even the after-battle stillness.

Two Changelings picked him up and carried him to the other prisoners. “No,” Mirage said. “Take this one to the field hospital. And tell them I said to heal him.” The two nodded and buzzed west to the Atlantean camp.

“Crimson. He’d already surrendered. Why did you keep going?” Her worries were clear.

The Pegasus stooped down and picked up the doll. Its head had crumbled. The wood-scrap body was splintered into pieces. The legs were all but destroyed. “He…” Crimson couldn’t finish the sentence. He broke down and started crying. “Phoenix gave this to me right before this fight.”

Mirage stared him straight in the eye. “It shows how much you care for her. You’re not willing to let somepony disrespect another’s hard work, accomplishments, or life in general. But you need to control it. You can charge somepony all you want, but if they give up, you stop beating the shit out of him. That’s what separates us from the Dominion, isn’t it?”

Crimson nodded.

“I’m glad you see the problem. Now, I believe Silvercrest won’t let you off lightly, so you might as well get it off your chest. We’ll handle it from here.”

Author's Note

Yes. Crimson is fallible. Screw you, "people who claim he's a Mary-Sue." Nobody's actually done that yet, but screw them in the future anyway.

Feedback Appreciated!

50. Operation Highland's Edge Part 1

Mirage scouted ahead with a few of her Changeling soldiers while the regiments walked the winding path that lead from the rail’s end to the Upper Rapids, where the Whispering Highlands ended and the Canyon began. Seventy miles down the twisting corridor of rock and abandoned mines, the Lower Rapids set the boundary into the Inland Swamp. Fifty miles west, a major mountain pass to Griffonstone was guarded by a small fort.

Wind whipped her purple mane into a flag behind her head. Then the wind shifted, sending frizzles of hair into her face. She frowned and held it back with her magic. A few more steps through the rocky terrain revealed the Canyon in all its craggy glory.

The Harmony Run had cut its way through the solid sandstone over the past few thousand years. Periodic earthquakes joggled loose rock into the river, which in turn found a new way around the obstruction. Flash floods weren’t uncommon in these parts. Oranges, browns, and reds layered up the canyon walls all the way to the Lower Rapids, where they finally ended in a massive cliff and the river cascaded nearly half a mile through spires and an enormous waterfall to rival Equestria’s Neighagra Falls. Around the lake at the bottom, wildlife had taken advantage of the overabundant water and soggy soil, creating the huge bog known as the Inland Swamp.

Large gusts of wind were so normal up here a preened feather would never reach the ground. It shifted constantly, as if unsure where to go. Mirage shook her head and kept climbing the trail. She still had to find the Rangers, and she didn’t have a clue where to start. All she knew was that they weren’t an official unit, more of a gun-club-turned-militia, and that they were excellent at sneak attacks. Their daily lives usually consisted of practice skirmishes, model trains, and beer. Other than that, she had nothing to help her find their base.

The Changeling to her left lit his horn and investigated a nearby cave. She followed him in, chastising herself for having not noticed it, and motioned for the rest of the group to do the same. They all lit their horns for light as well.

As they ventured farther into the cave, the opening behind them slammed shut. All seven Changelings whirled around in surprise, they formed a circle with Mirage in the center. They drew their weapons and snarled at the dark unknown.

The floor dropped, sending them tumbling down a tunnel. Rusty nails and old planks dotted the walls, and Mirage received more than a mouthful of cobwebs. She was still spitting them out when she landed on the ground and her group on top of her. Everyone had a couple of bruises.

As soon as her group undid its unexpected pileup, Mirage found a bayonet in her face. She stood to talk, but was instantly pushed back to the ground.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you, Changeling.” The gruff voice of a middle-aged outdoorspony had a thick mountaineer accent its speaker shared with the locals, but with the trim of somepony with status. “The Whispering Hive shouldn’t even be allowed to exist. Their alliance with the invaders disgusts me. Take their arms, Rangers.”

“Wait!” Mirage cried. “We’re with AREA!”

“That’s what the last crew said. They want to get in here and root us out to the Doms.” Hatred - deep, resonating hatred - filled the voice. “Fire on my command!” The click of several rifles being cocked was heard. “Unless you can tell me where your hive is, we’ll have to kill you all.” The Changelings glanced at each other. “I’ll consider you from the Whispering Hive. Ready! Aim! And-”

“Emberforge! Emberforge Valley!” Mirage screamed.

“There’s a hive there? We must wipe them too!”

“No! Well, yes, there’s a hive, but we allied with Silvercrest and Sarge!” She defiantly stood up.

The Earth pony who was obviously the leader had a black-and-white body with a red mane and tail. His cutie mark was four cards like ones held during a game, with a spade on the frontmost card. His red eyes looked like red diamonds; his nose a club.

“Alright, I’ll ask you two more questions. You have a few minutes to give me the correct answer for each. If you’re wrong, or you fail to reply in five minutes, you’re dead. What thestral family currently has significant influence in Atlantis?”

“There are multiple families. Three guesses.”

“Fair enough. You still have a chance to lose; after all, I know of ten.”

Mirage searched her memory. “Sparklelight.”

“Wrong. Two more.”

“Prethoryn.”

“Wrong again. One more guess.”

This is not good. “Uh…” What other thestral families are there? I thought there were two! Out of a wild guess, she said, “Nightmane.”

“Ah! You are intelligent! Last question: is my Rose safe?”

“The only pony I know who has that name is Nurse Lieutenant Rose Thorn, currently attached to the Second and Third Coastal for the duration of this mission. Which I am a part of.”

“That’s not answering-” someone began, but the leader held up his hoof. “Rose Thorn. That was her name, right? Dark pink Unicorn, leafy green mane?”

“Yes.”

The leader relaxed. “Oh, thank Harmony! They’re friendly, boys!” He took off the bandana masking his face. “I’m Solitaire, Rose’s father.”

She took his extended hoof. “Princess Mirage, Emberforge Valley Changeling Hive. Commander of the Second Coastal Regiment’s Changeling company.”

“General Silvercrest said something about you guys, but honestly, I didn’t think the advance party was gonna be Changelings! Sorry about earlier. Here, let me give you a tour of the place.”

“…And down there is where we keep the trains,” Solitaire said, gesturing to a vast chamber beside him. He and Mirage were up on a balcony overlooking the entire works. Dozens of model trains, each about the size of a pony, were perfectly ordered with their respective rail cars. Between them, ponies checked systems, oiled joints, and conducted other maintenance procedures.

“Each of those babies has a specific tunnel assigned to them. With sound-detecting spells, we know where every single one of them is at for any given point in time. They can haul several times their own weight, giving us extremely easy access to the abandoned mines throughout the area. We can send or receive supplies anywhere in the Highland’s Edge as long as they have an underground station.”

“Wouldn’t the smoke kill you?” Mirage asked, genuinely curious.

“Not in the slightest. These babies all run on magic, not steam. And since we’ve got only two Unicorns in the entire Rangers, we get our magic from the Harmony Run - that river’s filled to the brim with it! Feedwater pipes lead it to our machinery, which then runs it through and sends it out the other end. The machinery was designed by our Unicorns, but operated completely by Pegasi! It’s amazing what you can do with just a little imagination.”

“I agree.” Mirage leaned over the rail to get a closer look. “So, is this why Silvercrest needs the Canyon cleared?”

“Yep. With Doms in the Canyon, and now the Whispering Hive helping them, we can’t operate through the mountains to Griffonstone - too risky. Y’see, those routes actually require breaking the surface in several places before reaching the mountains, and there’s this old mining bridge dangerously close to the hive’s claimed territory. If we could clear them out, we could hop back into the Griffon black market and even tap Equestria’s for raw materials and such to run this war.”

“And Queen Atlanta permits this?”

“She doesn’t even know the route exists. The area was abandoned when the silver mines ran dry 500 years ago. The Rangers have been restoring the mines, using them as our base, and adding to them to make an interconnected network.”

“And because the Rangers are a private institution not controlled by the government, the only thing you need to say is that you own the land and you’re good to go.”

“Exactly.”

“But if you did tell the government…”

“They’d march in and confiscate the equipment. They’d take the land. The Rangers would lose everything.”

“How do you know that’s what will happen?”

“Because it’s what happened in Port Snowfall,” Solitaire snarled. “The mayor was so focused on private groups owning all sorts of equipment, he didn’t see the Doms until they were in his office, setting demands.”

“So why show us now?”

“We want you to see how useful it is, so that you’ll advocate for our keeping this.”

Treetop scratched his head. “They disappeared here.” He paced back and forth along the canyon wall. “What the hell happened?” A regular shrugged.

Crimson leaned against a rock face, sighing. As he did, the rock opened silently, throwing him off guard for a moment. “That doesn’t normally happen, does it?”

“No,” Treetop said. “Follow me. Lieutenant Thorn, stay with Crimson.”

The four walked in slowly, weapons drawn. Rose cast an illumination spell. Crimson eyed a wet spot on the floor. Taking a closer look, he saw it was green, as if a Changeling accidentally cut himself. Before he could say anything, the floor dropped and they fell through a winding path.

Treetop slid through a loop-de-loop, then saw Crimson next to him before the red Pegasus took a sharp turn and disappeared. Rose flew through the air for a second as her tunnel sent her over an underground gorge. After many twists and turns, ups and downs, and odd cartoonish tunnel mishaps, they piled up with Rose on top.

“Ow,” Treetop muttered as three ponies fell on top of him.

As they shook themselves off, Mirage bounced into the room. “Crimson! Treetop! We found the Rangers!”

“Maybe a warmer, more conventional welcome would’ve been nicer.”

“Ah, yes, Colonel, but they’re on the lookout for the Whispering Changeling Hive, which allied the Doms. This is just security.”

Solitaire walked in more calmly than the Changeling princess. He recognized Rose Thorn immediately. She knew him too, and they embraced. “You’ve kept her safe,” Solitaire said. “I can trust you.”

The Earth pony showed them around the place like he did with Mirage. Treetop was impressed by the scale of the operation; fifty small trains and 400+ ponies far exceeded his expectations of the Canyon Rangers. He was especially interested in their sphere of influence, which extended from the Celestial Sea all the way to the Northern Run, from the Whispering Mountains to the quarries of Lake Autumn, just west of Emberforge Valley. They had access to raw materials, fuel, and isolated communities. Their huge cavern by the Lower Rapids was still under construction, but would no doubt be an invaluable base for wheeled variants of the Summercrest Project’s flying machines.

Solitaire remained adamant that the military not take over the facility. It took half an hour, but the incoming regiments were able to convince him that they wouldn’t do anything of the sort.

“If you have all of this stuff, then how come almost nopony’s even heard of you?” Treetop asked Solitaire while the regiments set up camp in the Lower Rapids cavern..

“Truth be told, it’s because we don’t advertise ourselves. We’re well known in our sphere, and anyone who’s dealt with the ponies we deal with don’t even know where the stuff comes from, just that it’s sold. But we do regulate what comes through - no illegal drugs, limited alcohol, stuff like that. Weapons are hard to get in the system, but it does occasionally happen. But no bombs. Medical supplies are common. Personal transaction documents come through every now and then. I think we haul farm animals, stone, stuff like that. Found a slave ring one time; it shut down pretty quickly. If you don’t know us, it’s not your fault. We just happen to stay where we are.”

“Huh. I guess I’ll get started on clearing the Canyon. With the search pattern you guys recommended, we can cover a quarter of it in a day, minus engagements.”

“I can double that land.”

Queen Echo of the Whispering Highlands Changeling Hive reclined on her throne, waiting for the day’s messages to arrive. After all six thousand finally cycled through, she stood up and headed for her palace’s dungeon. She smiled upon arriving. Suspended in cocoons were almost a thousand ponies - the original Canyon Rangers. Their leader, Solitaire, was her personal prize, as she knew every single thing she needed to about his life and career.

She chuckled. She had two veteran Atlantean regiments in her sights.

All she needed to do now was wait.

Author's Note

Well, um, this is gonna go down. Big.

Also, six separate Changeling Queens are mentioned in this series. I'll tell you who and where they're mentioned:
Nautica - mentioned in Chapter 20
Flutterby - mentioned in Chapter 20
Chrysalis - Homefront, mentioned in Chapter 20
Paraodox - mentioned in Homefront
Duplicate - the Battle of Emberforge Valley chapters
Echo - just now

Feedback appreciated.

57. The Battle of Expedition Explore

Dong! Dong! Dong!

Lost Legacy yawned and rolled out of his hammock. For the past three days, he’d been sailing south as part of the Dominion diplomatic entourage to negotiate a possible Atlantean surrender - if King Jagged Edge had to say anything about it. This conflict had turned to a war of attrition, with the Atlantean armies outsmarting their larger Dominion counterparts. Their navy had also retaken a substantial portion of the continent’s eastern coast, meaning Lost’s seven-ship fleet would be entering hostile waters in two weeks.

“Com’an, Pretty Colt,” an old, seasoned sailor called from the bow. “We’s gat some trauble brewin’ hotter than a tea kittle!”

“I’m coming,” the medium-grey Unicorn replied. He liked the gruff Mousetrap and appreciated his thirty-four years aboard the frigate DNV Pharoah, but he sometimes got a little overexcited about nothing.

This time, however, as he climbed onto the main deck and his eyes drifted over the bulwarks, he knew they were in for it. Seventeen Atlantean battlewagons, the powerful Mermaid class, no doubt, and their escort of several dozen Artemis frigates, Fireheart corvettes, and Marine extended-expedition patrol caravels. The four staple ship designs of the Atlantean Navy, all in one spot.

He waved to Mousetrap, who gave him a pair of binoculars. One of the standard non-regulation things Atlantean captains did before the war was paint the ship’s name on the side of the hull, just under the gunports. Knowing this, Lost scanned to guess the age of this battlegroup.

“Whaddya seh, Pretty Colt?” Mousetrap asked.

“Before the war, Atlanteans painted their ship names on the side. If I can find them, it means they won’t be hostile until we shoot at them.” CLANG! “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the hell are you guys doing? Don’t attack. We’re outnumbered by the longest shot!” He started staring back through the binoculars. “Okay, that big one in the front is a Mermaid-class battlewagon. I’d know that sail pattern anywhere. It’s Chesapeake! By Harmony, she’s old.” Lost lowered the binoculars in shock.

“How old?”

“Old enough to have 32-pounders. Their navy stopped using them on battlewagons seven years ago, replaced them all with fifties and put them on their frigates. But as far as I know, the Chesapeake last deployed with a massive battlegroup in the year before Atlanta staged her successful coup. That’s at least fourteen years ago.”

“Where’re dey hidded?”

“Nopony in the Dominion knows. Atlanta probably doesn’t know. Hell, they’re probably the only ponies in the world to know.” He raced to the wheel, where Pharoah’s Unicorn captain was issuing orders for battle stations. “Captain Goldenrod, they don’t know about the hostilities!”

The captain glared into Lost’s eyes with his own golden ones. He had a golden coat and silver mane, and a massive tendency to break things. Many a sailor had left his sight with a bruised skull or broken leg after arguing against his orders. He did, however, have to follow orders, and Lost had immunity as part of this year’s Dominion diplomatic delegation to Atlantis. “What do you mean, they don’t know about the hostilities? We’ve been at war with Atlantis for two and a half years.”

“Captain, that big one out front is the Chesapeake. I don’t know how many naval records you’ve read, but I’ve read enough to know that she left Atlantis before Atlanta rebelled back in 960. We’re not at war with that battlegroup, sir.”

Goldenrod sighed. “Are you kidding me?” He picked up the binoculars Lost had and stared at the distant ships. “Yup, that’s Chesapeake. Damn. So, what you’re saying is?”

“We can’t shoot them unless they shoot first, because they could perceive it the wrong way. If we pick a fight, and we lose, then they could technically bring us to trial for Harmony knows what reasons. But if they shoot first, it means that they know we’re at war and that we can shoot them.”

“Lost Legacy,” Goldenrod began, “I’ve trusted your father for years. I’ve known you for years. But I simply can’t not engage an enemy battlegroup that’s within sight!”

“Captain, battles are fought when one side chooses to fight. If neither side takes that initiative, then there are no casualties because there is no battle. Hell, we could probably get them to escort us to Nautinia! Wouldn’t you want to be seen as the pony who seemingly brought their long-lost ships back home? That’d give you excellent relations with them, especially after the war. You could use that.”

“Lost, you’re a history buff, and your logic has always been sound, even now. I’ll give it some thought for sure, but I may just fire the cannons.”

“I understand, Captain.”

Commodore Evergreen glanced back worriedly at the storm-damaged ships behind Chesapeake. Her thick, bark-brown coat and furry wings protected her from the winds up here in the crow’s nest, where she could personally survey the horizon with ease. The straw-like, deep green mane and tail that flapped in the breeze, however, gave away her cold.

Out of the hundred-odd vessels in her expeditionary force, only fifty remained. They’d been at sea for almost a decade and a half, and the standard wear-and-tear on the less destroyed ships required them to scuttle the ones that were only barely seaworthy. Crew had been lost to storm and battle against pirates. But mostly storm, which sucked.

The Mermaid-class ship of the line Pathfinder, the slowest ship in the fleet, was towing the nearly-sunk hulk of evidence of Dominion activity in the North Luna Sea, off the western coast of Equestria. Dubbed Eternity, it was a small iron-hulled warship that ran on steam supplied by three coal-fired boilers. Numerous Dom artifacts had been recovered, like its half-eaten flag and captain’s log. It also appeared to be the seventeenth ship of its type, according to the big, peeling numbers on the bow. Once it had been found rusting beached on the wilds of the Equestrian West Coast, it had become their top priority to bring it home.

Now, after years of constant strife, the end was in sight. Dominion land, albeit, but land. They were so close to home. They could reunite with old friends, if they were still alive.

“Evergreen, Intrepid says there’s a Dominion fleet on the horizon, with battle flags unfurled.” The call, barely heard over the wind, was repeated as other ships on the right flank saw the same thing. By the sixth call, a Pegasus flew up and sent her back to the deck.

As Evergreen landed gracefully on the slippery wood, she yelled, “Battle stations. Sound the bell and prepare to be boarded.” Her commands, although seemingly odd given the distance between the two fleets, were founded in fair reasoning. Dominion-flagged ships and sponsored pirates throughout the Narrow Ocean had a tendency to close the gap as quickly as possible, followed by a boarding party that completely overwhelmed the defenders in minutes. After the first time it happened, Evergreen had vowed to never allow herself to be caught flat-footed like that again.

“Wait. Let them get in range. We’ll send them to the bottom. For Radiant.”

The guns were primed and loaded, all forty-per-side of the 32-pounder cannons. A couple 12-pounders were near the bowsprit as well as a late addition to the ship during one of the many scuttlings.

The Dominion fleet stayed its course. However, that was one where they would intersect in a couple hours.

“Helm, head south. Signalmare, tell the fleet. We’re gonna run the gauntlet to Port Snowfall tonight, but sail parallel to the coast for now. That Dominion fleet is going to have to turn east soon, or they’ll hit Oceania Point. By then, we’ll go dark and sail west, get some repairs before we continue on to Nautinia.”

“Got it, Evergreen,” the pony at the Helm replied. Longtime familiarity had eventually led him to just drop her rank when he spoke. It had even affected the crew; she was only called “Captain” in an emergency. Of course, her Helmspony was a little closer than everyone else, as he was her Executive Officer as well. They shared something more than an intimate relationship that was kind of hard to hide from the armada, as big as it was.

As the entire battlegroup turned to port, Evergreen seriously hoped a battle wouldn’t ensue.

Lost Legacy looked scared. More than anypony else on the ship, he was scared. He was no fighter. He was no sailor. Hell, he wasn’t even in the military! And Captain Goldenrod had just ordered his ships hard to port to face the Atlantean ships. This was not going to end well.

Evergreen’s heart sank. With a fleet of fifty ships, she had little choice whether a fight was going to start. Her only hope was to get as far south as she could in the time she had. “Signal, tell Pathfinder to head south, full power. See if you can get that iron hulk to move by itself, and wing it if you have to. Do whatever you can to go south.”

Her XO glanced west. “Evergreen, I suggest that Pathfinder makes a run for Nautinia. If that’s an official Dominion fleet, then we’re at war, and it’s quite possible that Port Snowfall has been overrun.”

“Do it. Have America and Thunderbird escort her down. Any ship that either runs out of ammo or becomes too heavily damaged to fight will follow them.”

The hours ticked away at a painfully slow pace. Ammunition was distributed. Damage-control crews readied their tools. Medics prepared to handle the inevitable casualties.

At fifteen feet across, seventy feet long, and a hundred fifty feet high, Chesapeake was a massive ship for her time. She had over three dozen 32-pound cannons per side and was built to take a beating, with diagonal crisscrossing beams and near-watertight bulkheads in strategic places throughout her hull. Her crew was well-trained, seasoned, and determined, for their long voyage led to encounters on all coasts, services-for-supplies bartering, and some of the bachelors stayed behind until the fleet came back on its return journey. Those stallions had started families, who now accompanied them back to Atlantis. Even now, these ponies reorganized to board the southward-heading ships in exchange for more fighters.

Then the first shots rumbled across the placid sea. Fifty-pound cannonballs slammed into the frigate Cardinal, tearing chunks out of the unarmored ship’s wooden hull. Her 32s fired a reply, and found her adversary was out range. The balls splashed into the water several dozen feet short of the Dominion ship. The enemy fired again, blasting more holes in the frigate.

“Evergreen, Cardinal is moving closer to engage.”

The commodore simply stared at the impossible range the Dominion possessed. “No, no. They have bigger guns.”

“Exactly what does that mean?”

“We need to get out. Everyone head south like the wind. Let out oars if you have to. We must leave their range before we’re reduced to splinters.”

A long hoooooooooooooooooonk blared from the southeast. Using scrap wood as fuel, crewponies from America, Thunderbird, and Pathfinder had fired up the lone unbroken boiler on Eternity and steam began to run the engines. With a few more minutes, they’d be ready to move on their own. As Evergreen watched, however, the bowsprits were chopped off the three ships and floated to the iron warship. An Atlantean banner unfurled in the wind atop the tilted foremast, and ash-saturated smoke began to billow from the middle stack, further fueled by her escort’s sacrifices. Rowboats hauled wood, both dry and wet, to Eternity from various parts of the entire fleet.

The Dominion fired again, this time with three ships against Cardinal’s outranged guns. Feeling the frustration boiling in her crews, unable to shoot back, Evergreen gauged the distances. Just two more minutes…

Time’s up. Calculating that her entire right flank could hit the enemy’s waterline at maximum elevation, she yelled, “FIRE!”
Ten ships of the line, a dozen frigates, and five caravels shot one huge collective broadside that screamed between the two fleets. Many shots fell short, but the majority slammed into the waterlines and above. Showers of splinters had to have blown into their faces. Hit by at least half of the balls, the ship in the middle immediately began to founder. The other two retreated, unsure whether to continue the offensive or to stay behind and help their friend.

“Evergreen, Eternity signals that she has the fuel to reach Whitecap Point at full steam. A few more tons and she’ll pull into Summercrest - barely.”

“How’s Cardinal holding up?”

“Captain Anthill says he’s taking on water, but can seal the hole. Her foremast is a wreck, though, and he already has ponies on the job. They’ll sail to Eternity and drop it off.”

“Tell them to move quickly,” Evergreen ordered. “The Dominion may still shoot her with their larger guns.”

Lost Legacy’s vision was red and blurry and his ears were ringing. His face was against the bloodied deck and covered in small cuts. Slowly picking himself up, he saw an enormous cloud of white smoke drift downwind, obscuring the Atlantean ships behind it.

A medic ran to him and started trying to communicate. She was waving her hooves and running a very fast but unheard voice.

“What?” he asked. Then his mind came back as he realized that he couldn’t hear his own voice. He started to tap his ears, but the medic reached at his hoof, probably saying something along the lines of “Nonononononono!”

Finally, the sounds of yelling sailors punched through the ringing. “I said, ‘Are you okay?’ You don’t look too good.”

“I don’t know. My ears hurt and my side hurts and there’s blood on my tongue.” Lost looked around. “What the hell happened?”

“The Atlanteans fired a multi-ship broadside at us. Some shots missed, some hit the waterline, and some overshot into the upper decks and rigging. One ball nearly hit you.”

“Oh.” He gestured at his eyes and she wiped them with an almost-clean towel, getting the dripping blood all over it. She tossed the towel to another medic, who washed it and tossed it back to her.

“Shouldn’t you be tending other ponies? We must’ve taken a lot of hits.”

“My orders are to keep you from dying as much as I can during battle. Essentially, I’m your personal doctor until we return to Amyfalone. I think the reason Captain Goldenrod chose me specifically was because our diplomats tend to like having… comfort mares… when times get rough.” She blushed at the thought.

“I’m no normal diplomat, ma’am. I just have a message from the Prince to Queen Atlanta.” As he continued to explain his presence in the entourage, she cleaned and dressed his wounds.

A gruff stallion wobbled across the deck, finally reaching Lost. it was Mousetrap, with a destroyed eye and splintered leg. “Glad t’ see ya in one piece, Pretty Colt. Landlubbers rellay don’t like sea fights.”

“That was pure luck. Where’s Goldenrod?”

“The Cap’n took one t’ the head, perr soul. First Mate’s got it from here, and he’s hangin’ back. After that volley, nopony wants t’ get in their range. We lost Montoyana, b’hind us, since she’s takin’ on too much water fer her crew t’ catch up. We took a coupla hits, but nothin’ like Montoyana.”

“I just hope they don’t strike back. Our numbers are too few to hold them off, even with a longer range.”

Evergreen sighed in relief. The Dominion fleet wasn’t pursuing her, and Eternity was pulling ahead, hoping to reach a friendly port in Summercrest in a couple of days. Her ships, as old and broken as they were, were almost home. Hopefully they hadn’t been forgotten over the last decade and a half.

Author's Note

This took longer than I expected. Then again, I was telling the battle from two different POVs at the same time, kinda like an experiment.

Yes, the Expedition Exploration Force (EEF, or simply Expedition Explore) will get some more background later. This isn't a simple lifeline toss out to the soon-to-be-resource-depraved Atlanteans. There actually will be a major worldbuild coming with it, and hopefully soon.

Feedback, especially on this style of "battle-telling," would be much appreciated. That way, I know what I did wrong, what I did right, and if I should do it again.