Canterlot, Capital City of Equestria

Two weeks later, Twenty-sixth of First Rains…

Fort Hurricane, Equestrian Military Central Command

“Right here, sir,” the soldier said, pointing at the office, “this one’s yours.”

Wolfram frowned, and replied, “But this office is one set aside for an officer.”

“I know, but the rumors are that you’ll be put in charge of one of the Militia platoons, and you’ve been assigned an officer’s office.”

“I suppose,” Wolfram reluctantly agreed, “thanks for bringing me here.”

“No problem, sir.”

The soldier walked away down the hallway. Wolfram looked at the office door, sighed, opened the door, and entered, closing the door behind him.

He looked around, and smiled slightly. “So… this is my office, then.”

A wardrobe for uniforms sat against the wall to the left of his desk. To the rest of his desk sat an empty display case. His desk itself was rather plain, made of heavy oak and with a few pieces of mahogany as trim. Behind it sat a padded leather mahogany chair. “That looks comfortable, and probably is comfortable, too.”

Two large cabinets sat to either side of the door. A tall mirror stood against one of the walls. The wall behind the chair held a single large window. Outside, one of many rainstorms for which the current month was named for drenched the land.

Wolfram sighed. He never really liked the rain. Neither did his father, but that was for a completely different reason.

Shaking his head sadly, he looked down at his clothes, and said, “I need to change into my militia uniform.”

Walking over to the wardrobe, he opened it, and looked inside. Five light blue uniforms hung inside the wardrobe. “Ah, there you are,” he declared, smirking.

He grabbed one of the uniforms and started changing into it.

It took him six minutes, but he got the uniform on. He walked over to the mirror, and looked at himself in it. Wearing the light blue uniform, staring back at him, was a greyish white earth pony stallion with blue eyes. Turning his head to the left and to the right, he looked himself over. “Well,” he said, nodding, “I look official enough.”

There was a knock at the door. He called, “Yes, who is it?”

“It’s me, Rainbow Dash,” called the pony on the other side of the door. “May I come in?”

“Go ahead.”

The door opened, and Rainbow Dash entered. She, too, wore a light blue uniform similar to his, though it looked more as though hers had been designed for increased utility. Looking at the stallion, she smiled. “Look at you, Wolf,” she said, drawing a sigh from Wolfram, “you look like a proper soldier.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Dash chuckled and continued, “You’ve got flares, a set of binoculars, a compass, and a map.”

“Everything needed for a hike.”

“Or combat,” Dash shrugged.

“Have you been assigned a unit in the Militia yet?”

“Nope. Have you?”

Wolfram shook his head, “No, but I suppose we should go report in.”

“Yeah, guess we should.”

Dash turned and headed for the door, saying, “Follow me. I think I know where the officer who’s going to be our new boss has their office.”

“Alright.”

***

The officer sitting behind the desk in the office looked angry, or at least irritated. The plate of cookies on her desk spoke of a softer side to the officer, Wolfram thought.

Wolfram saluted and reported, “Enlistee Wolfram Script, reporting in, ma’am!”

Rainbow Dash saluted and said, “Enlistee Rainbow Dash, reporting in, ma’am!”

Looking up at the two, the officer spoke, voice gruff, “Ah, good, you’re finally here.”

She stood up, and walked from behind the desk. Wolfram’s eyes widened slightly as he realized that the mare could easily look him in the eyes. Pausing, the mare reached down and tapped a brace on her right leg. Looking at the two, she smirked. “I’m Senior Captain Limestone Pie,” she introduced herself, “the commander of the Third Company of the Fourth Battalion under the Second Brigade of our nation’s Royal Militia.”

The captain looked over the two ponies. A very slight smile came across her face. “Wolfram Script, I’m giving you command of the Seventh Platoon. That means you’ve been promoted to lieutenant.”

Dash raised an eyebrow. “Rainbow Dash,” the captain continued, “you’re promoted to sergeant first class. You’ll serve as the platoon sergeant for the Seventh Platoon. I trust you know what the position entails?”

“Somewhat,” the newly promoted platoon sergeant replied, “from what my uncle told me. I’m supposed to help my superior as his second and act as the bridge between him and the rest of the platoon.”

“Yes, that is what the position entails.”

“So, Captain,” Wolfram started, “where’s-”

“Come with me,” the captain ordered, as she walked past the stallion and left the room.

************

“So, does anyone actually know who our lieutenant is supposed to be?”

The shocktrooper with amber and gold hair posed the question to the rest of the platoon, expecting a quick answer.

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough, Lightning,” came the response from one of the other troopers, a volunteer from the Regular Army. “Captain Pie’ll bring us our lieutenant when she finds one.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“What that means, Lightning,” spoke up another trooper, “is that there weren’t enough officer enlistees when the first round of commands were given out.”

“Well, shit,” muttered a third trooper.

“Yeah. Not much that we can do right now.”

“So, we wait?”

“Ah guess so,” the blonde haired fencer said, “we Militia folks get tha short end of tha stick.”

“Enough standing around like a bunch of recruits with no place to meet! Form ranks!”

At the sound of their captain’s barked command, the assembled troopers shot to their feet and rushed to get to their positions.

Lightning Dust saw a stallion with brown hair, walking behind the captain, wearing the same light blue uniform that the rest of them wore, though the rank pins on his uniform spoke very plainly about who this stallion was. This stallion was to be Seventh Platoon’s Lieutenant. The mare behind them, a pegasus, was…

You’ve got to be kidding me. Her?! She’s to be my Platoon Sergeant?!

The mare’s rose eyes locked with Lightning’s own amber ones. The other mare’s eyes narrowed, and the stallion noticed. Placing a hand on the mare’s shoulder, the Lieutenant whispered something in her ear. Relaxing slightly, the Platoon Sergeant sighed.

************

Captain Pie barked, “Listen up, Seventh Platoon! These two here will be the ones leading you into battle!”

She glanced over at Wolfram and looked back to the platoon. “Lieutenant, I’ll leave the introductions to you.”

Turning and walking away with a slight limp, Captain Pie nodded to Wolfram as she moved past.

When the Captain left, Wolfram let out a slight sigh of relief. He grabbed his side cap, pulled it off, and folded it over his belt. He appraised the assembled ponies and nodded.

“Good, good.”

Those two words were the first words that his platoon heard from their new commander. Wolfram spoke again, this time giving voice to a question.

“So, how many of you actually have combat experience? Raise your hands if you do.”

Those ponies he recognized from Ponyville raised their hands, along with a few ponies that he didn’t recognize. “Those of you who were at Ponyville, put your hands down.”

All but four hands fell.

With four ponies left, and confused looks from the rest of his platoon, Wolfram slightly smiled. “You four, step forward.”

When the four stepped forward, the new lieutenant issued a question, looking at a clipboard that the Captain gave him. “Your names?”

The red earth pony stallion taller, and just generally bigger, than Wolfram stated, “Ah’m Big McIntosh, Lieutenant.”

Nodding, Wolfram muttered, under his breath, “Lancer. Sergeant in the Militia. Served in the last war. Very good.”

The next of the four, a lean pegasus stallion, spoke. “Zephyr Breeze, sir.”

“Ah,” the lieutenant muttered again, “Scout. Regular Army sergeant. Served at the Philomena Border Fortress. First hand experience with fighting Imperials.”

Saluting, the crystal pony stated matter-of-factly, “Epsom Malachite.”

Another mutter, “Shocktrooper. Regular Army soldier. Survivor from the Eightieth Mechanized. Another trooper with first hand experience.”

The earth pony mare bigger and taller than the Captain, yet not as tall as Sergeant McIntosh, was the last of the four. Wearing an expression that Wolfram couldn’t place as being bored or detached (and with a bored or detached monotone), she spoke. “Maud Pie, Lieutenant.”

Flipping to Maud Pie’s page on the clipboard, Wolfram’s eyes widened slightly. “Mauler,” he muttered. “Yeah, no kidding… Sergeant in the Militia. Served in the Buckston Town Watch. Ah, very, very good.”

Handing off the clipboard to Dash, Wolfram cleared his throat. “Now then. I suppose you’re wondering why I called you forward.”

Zephyr and Epsom shared a glance. McIntosh said nothing, but gave a slight nod. Maud Pie said nothing and remained still as a statue.

Undaunted, Wolfram continued. “Our platoon has a Lieutenant and a Platoon Sergeant, but no sergeants. If I chose from the ponies that I fought with at Ponyville during the evacuation, that would be seen as me being biased. I’d prefer to avoid that. So, I wanted actual veterans to be our sergeants.”

Murmurs started almost immediately as the rest of the platoon reacted to this information.

“As such,” Wolfram started again, “I’ll go ahead and name our sergeants. Big McIntosh, I’m promoting you to Senior Sergeant. Zephyr Breeze, Epsom Malachite, and Maud Pie, you three are being assigned to fill the remaining three positions.”

“Sir,” Dash began, giving voice to a concern of hers, “surely there are ponies here that are more suited to be given such positions, are you sure about this?”

Wolfram replied, coolly, while shooting a cool glance at the mare, “Yes, Rainbow Dash, I am sure.”

The slight coldness in his eyes and tone faded, as he addressed the platoon, a very slight smile forming on his face. “I am young, a university student studying photography. That means that though I completed the required military courses, I am unaccustomed to command and war. I need ponies that know what they are doing. That know what I don’t. And to give me perspective on how those on foot fight.”

Sergeant McIntosh pointed to the Mosippa. “Yer the commander of that there tank, then?”

“Yes, I am. I’m still woefully under experienced in regards to tank warfare. I hope to get better.”

“Well,” spoke up the amber and gold haired mare, “we are the Militia. It figures that we get the short end of the stick.”

“But we’ll do the best we can with what we have,” was the Lieutenant’s reply.

“Now then,” he continued, “I still need to introduce myself to you guys, and find out who you are.”

Author's Note

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