The Apple in His sights

Stormy Morning’s eyes gazed up at the heavy pair of thick, polished doors. He still ached, not as bad as the day before, but scrapes didn’t heal overnight. The young colt knew that well enough. Stormy breathed uneasily as his brother slept behind him. His wings shook, agitated at what was to come.

“Stürmischen,” his father called from the end of the hallway.

Stormy turned to his father, Cold Morning, surprised to see him standing there in full uniform.

“Ja, Vater?” Stormy asked nervousness seeping through him.

Cold knelt down as he looked his son over before looking the younger Thestral in the eye.

“Are you nervous?” Cold asked, concerned, “I know that this is asking a lot from you, but you must have courage. They will question you, and you must answer them, honestly.”

“W-what will they ask, Vater?” Stormy asked as he shook in terror of unfamiliar ponies questioning him.

Cold brought his son in close, and hugged him with hooves and wing both, before he whispered words of comfort into his sons ears.

“They will ask you questions about your mother,” Cold revealed, “And what happened during….”

Cold trailed off as his son shook and his eyes turned to pinpricks.

“Mutter? What if she finds out? I’m in trouble to begin with!” Stormy babbled, nerves getting the better of him.

“Stürmischen Morgen, get a grip and listen to me right now!” Cold shouted at his son who quieted at his fathers volume, “You did nothing wrong. It is your mother who is at fault, not you, versteht ihr mich?”

Stormy nodded, tears in his eyes before his father hugged him again.

“Good,” Cold comforted, wiping Stormy’s tears away before another pony called out to him.

“Well, it would seem that we’re up,” Cold murmured as he put Rainy on his back and motioned for Stormy to follow him.

***

Stormy blinked rapidly as he was gently roused from slumber. He looked up from his chair and looked at a clock, thirty minutes had gone by.

“Sarge, the Captain said to wake you and to head to the farm. He said it was south of here,” she said with a small smile, one that her earth pony companion did not share.

He stretched as he stood up before he looked around for his luggage, and soon spotted his green saddle bag. He then slipped it over his barrel and wings.

“Welcome back” came the voice of the Captain who stood easily a good length away.

“Your equipment is at the farm. Weapons and ammo included, stowed in the barn. Now, before you three go I’d like to make one thing clear,” Steady said before he got closer to the trio, “Anypony that gets into a firefight will write an incident report. Everything that happened, number of bullets fired, that sort of thing. Sergeant Morning, these two are under your command. Day shift runs from zero five hundred hours to nineteen hundred, after which the night shift begins. Watch will begin tonight at nineteen hundred. Unfortunately, due to a slight oversight, you will not be getting any nights off until we get another Thestral down here. Any questions?”

Stormy held his tongue and shook his head in the negative.

“Good,” the captain said with a nod and turned away from the group.

Stormy wasted no time as he put on his sunglasses, “We should not waste any time.”

With that he strode briskly into the midday sun, followed by his new team.

***

Applejack huffed as both her and her brother, Big Macintosh, wrapped barbed wire around their south-most stretch of fence. The task, once considered easy had cost both brother and sister much pain wise. They’d been nicked by the sharp needle-like protrusions more than they’d like to admit.

Big Mac, who had got the worst of it, held the spool of wire before he wrapped it around the horizontal posts back to Applejack who pulled up as she rotated the wide spool to let out more.

She gave the spool back to her brother and hissed as her fatigued forelegs brushed against a barb. This made the spool drop, before Mac caught it. But brushed his own leg against the barbs.

“Aw horse apples, sorry Big Mac. Ya’ll alright?” Applejack apologized to her brother who breathed in deeply.

“Eeyup,” he replied with a nod.

“Well it’s noon now, and we’re about half finished. You want to get some lunch then finish up?” she asked, hopeful that he’d agree.

Despite the momentary pain and holding his own hoof Big Mac answered, “Eeyup.”

Applejack then helped her brother set rocks underneath the spool so that it wouldn’t knock the fence down in case if the wind kicked up.

The trip back to the farm was uneventful, but when they got to the house their Granny Smith held a tight frown on her face as she rocked in her chair. As soon as they saw the look both siblings knew for a fact that something was off.

“Granny, y’all ok?” Applejack asked, almost hesitatingly as she took note of her grandmother’s expression.

“One of them guard stallions came by about a few minutes ago. Wanted to use a barn for sleeping. And since there’s a law against them intruding, he had to pay. Five hundred bits a month, till they get their racks up,” Granny Smith revealed with a disapproving tone.

“But are Y’all ok?” Applejack pressed as her grandmother’s face morphed into one of anguish.

“Eeyup, I’ll be fine,” Granny Smith said, her water filled eyes turned down, “Brings back a lot of memories of your granddaddy John is all.”

Applejack went to sit by her grandmother, as Big Mac went into the house to get some tissues.

“Let me know when they get here,” the elder mare mumbled as she wiped her eyes

As she did so, Applejack spied three ponies out of the corner of her eye.

“They’re here, Granny,” Applejack relayed as she stood by her grandmother’s side.

Granny Smith looked up to see a trio of ponies enter the threshold of the farm and walk up to them. She kept her eye on the big winged one who seemed to be the leader.

“Good morning, Frau Smith. I’m Staff Sergeant Stormy Morning,” he introduced himself before turning to his fellows, “This is Airman first class Soft Breeze, and Private Heavy Rain.”

“Morning to you. Got some ground rules for Y’all,” Granny Smith said as she sized up the stallion, as if trying to place his accent.

“We shall adhere to any rules that you want us to abide,” the sergeant replied as he tried to cut the tension.

Granny Smith, however, was adamant about saying her piece, “Good to hear, Sonny. Breakfast is at six in the morning, five-thirty on Sundays, feel free to grab a bite. Any language in front of my grandfoals, or any kind of lewd talk. I’ll kick you out faster than y’all can blink. We understand each other?”

“Perfectly. The offer of breakfast is very kind, thank you. And as I’ve said, we will adhere to your rules,” Stormy responded, near impassively before his gaze flicked to Applejack, smiled, and gave a slight nod to her.

“Carry on then,” Granny Smith replied before she rocked in the chair.

Applejack smiled back, before the trio trotted away.

“That the Stallion y’all were gushing about Applejack?” Granny Smith whispered to her granddaughter after noting the interaction.

Applejack felt heat bloom in her face and tilted her head down in embarrassment.

“G-Granny,” Applejack tried to ward off, only for Granny Smith to chuckle.

***

Stormy tuned out Heavy Rain as he started to complain.

“Lady could be a little more grateful. I mean, the place gets a monster attack pretty much every week,” he said acidly when they were far enough away.

“Her house, her rules, Heavy,” Soft reminded the earth pony.

Heavy rolled his eyes before they saw the barn in a clearing. Red in color, with boxes outside of it.

“A nice, fat target,” Heavy muttered before he bumped into a now stopped Stormy Morning.

Stormy glared at the private before he silently agreed and swiveled his gaze to the supply crates and a duffle bag with his ghillie suit inside no doubt.

“Alright, let’s get things organized,” Stormy said before he placed his saddlebag next to a support beam and turned to begin the preparation for his patrol.

He opened a small box that was labeled with his serial number and grimaced at it’s contents. A carbine stared him in the face as the other two brought out three collapsible cots and worked on placing them into the barn.

Stormy closed the box that held his weapon and entered the barn. It seemed smaller than he envisioned, with several barrels stacked in straight order around them, or so Stormy thought as he passed through a gap in them.

“Oh, nice,” Soft commented as she entered through a gap in the back corner of the barn.

It slowly dawned onto Stormy that he was standing in a makeshift room. With this realization, Stormy went to work, and opened his cot, before he focused on getting everything into the room.

Stormy began with the weapon crate that was labeled with his serial number. His thoughts, however, attempted to go back to the dream, as he hefted the rectangular box onto his back. Stormy shook his head and focused on the task. Once the box had been placed on his cot Stormy went to work opening it.

The latch easily came off and the Thestral opened the box. Stormy nodded to himself as he saw the carbine before he let out an involuntary yawn.

It was late, and he needed sleep for his patrol. But first...

“Heavy Rain,” he called over the barrels before another yawn nearly made itself known.

“Huh?” came the reply of the private.

“Come here,” Stormy replied, agitated that all he received was a grunt.

It took a few moments of shuffling, but soon the earth pony stood in the threshold of Stormy’s room.

“Yeah?” he asked in a near bored manner.

The Thestral pointed to a patch of straw in the interior of his room and said, “Sit.”

Heavy’s brow furrowed but he did as he was told. He sat in the room as his new superior gazed at him for a moment, before he spoke.

“Are we going to have problems, Private Rain?” he asked with steel in his tone.

“Problems, Sergeant?” Heavy asked, innocent in his manner.

“Yes, problems. Like waking up on time, doing the bare minimum, or your believing me to be a Nazi?” Stormy elaborated with a smoldering glare over his features, now firmly fixated to him.

Heavy opened his mouth to reply, “Uh, I don’t understand-“

“Spare me, private. I can read lips quite well. Do not take me for an idiot. If you have something to say to me, spit it out,” Stormy hissed before he went silent for a moment.

Heavy remained quiet and stiffened up his lip, “No, Sarge. I don’t have anything to say.”

“You’re sure?” Stormy asked, still agitated, “Tell me now, and I can switch you for another pony.”

“…I just don’t like the idea of your kind being brought back so easily after what you did,” Heavy responded stiffly as his own gaze hardened as it met the thestrals own, “I don’t like you, and sure as hell don’t trust you.”

“I see. Now, as for your reputation for sleeping in, and slacking around. If I catch you sleeping on duty, there will be consequences. You might not like me, and I might dislike you, however being liked does not effect my job, nor will it effect yours. Keep in line, and we will not have any problems. Is this understood?” Stormy asked, his glowing eyes boring holes into the earth pony.

Heavy nodded, “Yeah, I get it.”

Stormy then motioned for Heavy Rain to leave and watched as he stalked off, stewing in his thoughts. He turned back to the darkness of the room and began to change out of his uniform. At the brass buttons he felt the letter from his brother. He paused and sat down on his cot before he laid his jacket down on the canvas.

Thoughts swirled in his head as he remembered that day, after the rebellion ended. So many probing questions, and by the end he had it, a cutiemark. Stormy dared to steal a glance at his cutiemark, and glared. It mocked him, it always mocked him. An iron cross, in a white circle.

***

“Do you, Stormy Morning, remember how your grandfather was killed?” an earth pony in a suit and tie asked as he paced around the stand that the colt sat in.

Stormy nodded and leaned into the microphone, “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Young colt, can you please tell the court what happened to Icy Morning when he resisted the Party?” the stallion asked in response, uninterested in the colts increased level of discomfort.

Stormy leaned in to answer again but crossed gazes with his mother as she sat in the defendant’s chair. The colt quieted as he became entrapped in his mother’s cold glare and froze.

It petrified and locked him in place, blaming him for the bandages that covered her head.

“Stormy,” a serene and regal voice spoke, which snapped him out of his daze.

It was Princess Celestia, who sat on the tallest stand, next to him.

Stormy looked up and back to the attorney who waited patiently for his answer. He felt it still, his mother’s hate filled glare on him as well as other party members, wishing him dead no doubt.

The young Thestral gulped loudly then took a breath, gathering himself for what he was about to do.

“Mother shot him,” Stormy answered stiffly, this time he stared directly into her eyes.

The court atmosphere changed instantaneously, from quiet and docile, to gasps and murmuring throughout.

Stormy’s locked eyes formed a glare, a hard one at his mother, and by extension, to the rest of the party members.

It was only when Princess Celestia’s gavel rang out that he broke eye contact.

“Order. Order, please,” Princess Celestia called, before the room fell into silence, “Thank you, Stormy Morning. You may step down.”

The rest of the trial was a near blur to Stormy who had answered a few more questions, then there was a call for recess.

Stormy sat, in the same stark white hall, in utter silence before his father sat beside him with a groggy Rainy on his back.

“Stürmischen Morgen”

Stormy jumped at the sound of his name and looked in the direction that it had come. His eyes widened, it was Princess Celestia herself walking towards them.

Stormy and his father went to bow, but was stopped by the princess’s rapid Deutsche.

“Please stand, Stormy Morning. I do not wish to interrupt, but I would just like to say that you were very brave,” she said with a warm smile as her gaze flicked to something, “And, congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you, Princess. But what am I getting congratulated for?” Stormy asked, confused at her words, and silently wondering if she was incorrect in her language.

It was then that Rainy piped up, “Sturmischen, you have a cutie mark!”

***

Stormy had taken his uniform off as he’d gone down memory lane. It hung from a nail that had been lodged into a beam. He continued to climb up into the rafters and faced away from the door.

Only when satisfied with the position did Stormy set his small alarm clock to his right. Loud enough to be annoying, not to send him into the dirt. Stormy then lowered himself, to where he was hanging from the rafter upside-down. His eyes grew heavy and soon he closed them.

***

It was sunset when Applejack sat on her front porch, eying the farm fence that lead to the freshly put out barbed wire. She was quiet, save for the squeaking of the chair as it made contact with the wood floor. Soon, she knew that the howling would begin, and this time those timber wolves wouldn’t be getting through.

“Even if they did, I’ve got a little surprise for ‘em,” she thought as her mind went to her daddy’s shotgun, in the trunk by her bed.

Applejack’s features turned into a frown as she saw a flock of birds shot off of a tree in the distance.

“Applejack?” called an elderly voice from behind.

“Woah!,” Applejack yelled out as she jumped.

Granny Smith jumped too at her granddaughters reaction.

“Now what in tarnation are Y’all doing out here, girl?” the elderly mare asked, not knowing why AJ was acting jumpy.

“Sorry, Granny. Just waiting to see if the wire works in keeping those wolves out,” Applejack explained as her grandmother sat in the rocking chair beside hers.

“Y’all asked one of them guards to check on it?” Granny Smith asked with an eyebrow raised.

“N-No, I can do it,” Applejack admitted to her grandmother who was quick to respond.

“Not at night you ain’t, missy. Y’all can check in the morning when them wolves are asleep,” The elderly mare said as she put her hoof down on the matter.

Applejack, despite her wanting to protest, was silent and began to relax again.

“So, what does he do?” Granny asked after a moment of silence.

“Who?” Applejack asked, slightly confused as to who her grandmother was talking about.

“That bat pony, the one that y’all met at the gala. What does he do?” Granny Smith clarified with a teasing smirk.

“Um, well, he said that he was in the army,” Applejack said with a light blush.

“I could see that, anything else?” Granny pressed, only for Applejack to shake her head.

“No, but he can dance I know that,” the blonde mare admitted with a blush.

This made her grandmother chuckle, “So, he got Ya’ll to dance, did he?”

When Applejack nodded Smith continued, “I remember when you were just a little filly and you hated to square dance.”

Applejack closed her eyes in embarrassment, and her ears swiveled to the orchard as a flock of birds shot up into the air.

“Eeyup,” Applejack responded, almost too late as she wondered what would make the birds just rocket away like that. She made a move to get up, but halted when she heard her Grandma’s voice.

“Ya’ll better not be going to get your daddies shotgun,” the older mare said in a tone of warning.

“But Granny,” Applejack tried in vain to explain but She wasn’t having it.

“Applejack Smith, need I tell you again?” Granny Smith uttered with a withering stare.

“No,” AJ replied as she sat back down.

“Good, we’ll just keep the doors bolted tonight. And tomorrow we’ll talk to those guards ‘bout keeping an eye open for wolves,” Granny Smith said with a fatigued tone, before she stood, “I’m going to bed, AJ. Lock up when you come inside.”

Applejack watched as her Grandmother went back into the house and called, “Night, Granny.”

It wasn’t long after that AJ herself decided to turn in. After shutting the screen door and bolting it, she headed to her room. Passing by the different rooms, one for Granny, lamp light on, soon to be clicked off. Big Mac’s, he was snoring. Good.

It was when she passed by Applebloom’s room that an alarm went off in her head. Applejack’s heart filled with a cold dread as she pushed the cracked door open.

AJ’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she saw it, an empty room.

“Mac!” Applejack cried as she burst into her brother’s room.

Big Mac started awake before his sister yelled, “Applebloom ain’t in her room!”

***

“This is Stormy Morning, beginning my patrol southeast,” Stormy said over the radio as he scanned the area in the outskirts of the farm for threats.

“Roger that, check back in every thirty minutes, or if you run into anything. Meanwhile, keep in contact with Sgt. Wind,” a female voice filled the line and went quiet afterwards.

Stormy took a moment to survey the area ahead of him. Thoroughly sweeping below with his weapon, breathing slowly as he did so.

“Wind, everything is quiet on my end. How’re things on yours?” Stormy spoke into his radio, just above a whisper as he swept.

“Hai, passing by the water tower now,” Strong answered, no doubt getting a better vantage.

“Roger that, moving out of the farm,” Stormy replied, giving the south most fence a once over.

It was covered in barbed wire, crude and uneven. Put there by Apfeljack, if he recalled correctly. Not too terrible for a first try at fortification, at least in his opinion.

Stormy prepared to move over the road but slowly spun as he heard rustling below him. He tucked his carbine below a leg as he moved from one branch to another.

“Command, I might have a situation, standby,” he whispered into the radio.

“Understood, Sergeant. Standing by,” the voice on the other end replied as Stormy peered through the foliage.

A small filly stood in front of a club house, looking up.

“Hello? Who’s there?” she called out, unable to detect him in the gloom.

Stormy exhaled, and prepared to reveal himself (slowly) when another rustle wafted into his ear, from directly below him this time.

He peered down, a timber wolf was watching the filly from behind a bush. Stormy reacted before even a single thought passed through him. Seven years of experience super charged his reflexes as he shouldered his weapon, aimed downwards, and fired.