Chapters 16th August, 1015 E.C. 0949 Hours
Alarms blared, the floor shook, and steel groaned. A growing heat rose from the right. A deafening roar sounded over head, silence followed with small bells ringing inside his eardrum. Petty Officer 3rd Class Clover stood quivering from the last enemy slavo. He pulled the fire extinguisher closer and depressed the pump, unleashing a long stream of carbon dioxide at the fire. A second quick pull and depress on the plunger managed to contain, if not extinguish the blaze before another salvo crashed into the water, close enough that Clover felt the ship rock. He kept his balance and depressed the plunger once more, the fire wasn’t out but was subdued, he could leave it for now and his mate could finish it while he moved towards the power station, that was his true objective right now.
The station was dark, wires frayed and broken, and the whole instrument panel was gone, blown off in the recent explosion. He dug his hoof into the station looking for the bypass. This station was dead, he needed to reroute the power to the next station or this situation was only going to get worse.
He found the reroute box just as another salvo crashed nearby, rocking the ship. He grabbed the necessary power cable and ripped it from its place, he pulled up his wire cutter and stripped the wire’s coating off and got to work putting this wire in its new home.
A salvo landed, and water splashed, the ship rocked but Clover stood. 10 minutes, 10 long minutes in a battle like this. Salvo after salvo had been fired from enemy and ally. Only 3 kilometers separates the ships at sea, that's a knife fight. And the bigger knife always wins.
Clover was on a small knife. A small, fast, agile knife.
The destroyer HMS Soaring Heat was state-of-the-art, 10 years ago, in peacetime, in only one way. Her engines. A complex series of magic batteries and turbines. Capable of 34 knots under high stress and running at full capacity. Technically capable of 40 knots under those conditions but that would drain the batteries fast and damage the turbines and propellers.
The ship was currently running 40 knots.
The power stations were the first to go. They blew out the moment the first shell landed close enough to rock the vessel.
There were sixteen power stations running into and out of the engine room, all keeping the ship powered and underway. One power station out for more than a minute meant that any number of systems could be offline.
The power reroute was designed to keep power flowing through and not just stopping and being wasted. Now in truth, it did not move it through other station, once this was done, power would be restored and flowing, but you would be unable to regulate it. Meaning, under calm you had thirty minutes before a blowout, under high stress you had five.
Clover knew this, he had been drilled on it. A blowout meant the ship would be dead in the water until they replaced the wiring to the turbines. And at that point state-of-the-art meant too complicated for field repairs. He had also lived on this ship for over 3 years, and that brings a familiarity and also a know how to help make technology work just that bit better. He finished, put the wire in its new home and removed the stations primary feed that now only sucked extra power. That five minutes was now seven.
Objective complete, he moved on, grabbing his mate who had finally snuffed out the fire. He went to the next problem that needed him. Seven minutes is what he had left, seven minutes to try to keep the ship afloat for that seven.
16th August, 1015 E.C. 0953 Hours
The bridge light flickered back on, radar came up and started pinging rapidly. Comms started chirping bringing in new orders. Orders Commander Leaf knew already.
“Sir, the admiral is ordering us back to formation,” the comms officer confirmed.
Steaming full ahead away from the enemy after a successful torpedo run, or at least getting them away. In about four minutes they would know how successful the run was.
Four other destroyers had made the run too. An order that put five outdated, state-of-the-art destroyers at three kilometers from an enemy fleet triple their size. An enemy fleet now forced to turn to avoid the very dangerous torpedos.
Leaf had been running his ship at maximum the whole time, so he was the first to get to range but the last to turn around. A risk he had calculated that saw his ship only get hit two times so far, the other destroyers were not as lucky. Their more predictable path had seen to that.
The Heat continued to perform at her best, thanks to her crew. 40 knots, running, throwing smoke into the air, and guns still firing, this little destroyer had run the gauntlet just so it could die just a little closer to home.
The Commander knew this, planned for it. Closer meant possible rescue, or at least a higher chance. More likely, they would be sunk or captured. When the engines died he would order scuttling charges set. He should order it now, but any possible means of escape was enough to belay that order.
The ship shuddered, and Leaf fell forward, momentarily caught unawares. He caught himself just as his first mate LT Commander Grove called out.
“Starboard torpedo tubes hit, deck B through E reporting damage. Damage teams will acquiesce.”
“Thank you XO,” Leaf responded, standing upright.
The Navigation officer, Lieutenant Pocket, calls out, “Steering acting up,” as he attempts an evasive action.
At the same time the Engineering officer, Lieutenant Spree, calls out, “Engine room reports water, sir. That last hit must have opened us up.”
“Keep us straight helmsman, and thank you Spree, call down and prioritize securing the bulkheads, keep us moving,” Leaf ordered.
“Aye Aye,” they both said.
Running the ship this hard and now a hole in the side made this a whole lot more difficult.
“Comms, radio the Vanhoover, inform them of our condition, helm turn us 15 degrees port, angle us away from the fleet,” Leaf called out. That course would put them closer to shore, if they got any further.
Split second decisions made all the difference, the helm had just changed course twice in just a few second, of course the rudder wouldn't respond that quickly but that meant the ship, for the next few seconds, would be zig zagging very hard and in a close pattern.
Splashes erupted from the starboard and then port a second after. The enemy had anticipated the evasive move and fired accordingly, his order then reorder had changed the course by a faction of a second, just enough to save them this time.
“15 degrees port, aye sir,” Pocket called out, turning the wheel port.
Comms officer, Lieutenant Junior Grade Minute, responded only by unplugging and replugging wires in the switch board, a few seconds would pass before he would speak again, telling the comms officer on-board the Vanhoover the Soaring Heats combat conditions.
XO Grove calls out, “Damage teams report hull breach just above the water line, sealing bulkheads. Fires are under control.”
Leaf only nods as he stares out the bridge, his friendly fleet some 13 kilometers from him and the enemy fleet only 4. Closer to home was looking very far.
16th August, 1015 E.C. 0954 Hours
Gunner’s mate Seapony Hatch could have sworn he was floating. His limbs felt numb, his head felt fuzzy, and it sounded like he was underwater.
He liked the water, he loved to swim. Its why he said the joined the navy, why he accepted the position on the torpedo tubes, closer to the water. But right now, he wanted to hear things, wanted to see. His eyelids would not open. He could breathe just fine, which meant he was not underwater.
There was a pressure on his chest then on his head and then he was falling, falling into darkness, his family was with him, then his gun mates, then he was alone again. He drifted. He slept.
16th August, 1015 E.C. 0955 Hours
Petty Officer Clover slammed a bulkhead door closed, as hard as one could slam a couple hundred pounds of steel. The new open air window the enemy gave them was leaking a bit. Closing the bulkheads was priority.
The engine room was close by and would be affected if they didn't get these doors closed. Him and a team of 15 ponies raced deck to deck closing as many doors they could. If he got home after this, it would be a miracle, and just might get him to believe in the Creator, just might.
The door shut and locked, he turned and sprinted for the stairs, one to go if all was well. He bounded down the stairs, reached the bottom and ran up to the bulkhead door. He could see water splashing into the ship.
He started to close the door when a ship medic and one of the gunners mate came running around the corner carrying a pony.
“Hold the door,” yelled the medic.
Clover stopped and waited. They came through, the ship rocked from another close hit and water flooded in. He started closing the door again. Water rushed at him, knee deep, and he almost lost his balance. Another member of the damage team rushed from behind and helped close the door.
Bulkhead sealed, water not drowning him, the ship had another few minutes.
“Where’s the next problem?” he asked the Petty Officer next to him.
The Petty Officer shook his head, “Nothing on the horn. At least nothing that isn't already under control.”
The Petty wiped his forehead with his right fetlock, “Fires on deck C and B are still going and turrets 1 and 2 report electric problems.”
“Must be another power station, I'm heading there then,” Clover said as he started of toward the bow of the ship.
16th August, 1015 E.C. 0958 Hours
Commander Leaf watched as the fire near turret 2 licked at the nearby anti-aircraft emplacement, the crew having already moved away. He sighed and shrugged as he felt another impact both near and on his ship, he waited for the report.
“Turret 3 is critically damaged, fires are reported in the magazine room,” his XO called out.
Leaf said nothing, the damage teams would be notified and would respond as soon as they could. Fires in magazine rooms would take priority, if it didn't blow right away.
It had only been three minutes since there torpedo run, and the enemy was beginning to dodge the torpedos and have more effective fire on his little destroyer. This had given his fleet the time they needed to get away.
Another impact and shudder throughout the ship, “Rudder is damaged, engine room is taking on water,” the XO yelled.
“Radar is offline, Commander,” his radar officer cried out.
Leaf’s head hung low, “Abandon ship, all hands,” he said, voice low.
The XO began shouting into the ships intercom sounding the order, the navigator and helmsman locked the wheel into place and began bundling up maps and other documents. The chief weapons officer began sending final updates to the remaining gun crews. The comms officer sent a final message to the Vanhoover.
All the bridge officers then moved to the exit after all the final checks were done. Protocol would still be followed even when death stared at them. At this point, getting as many ponies off the ship, alive, was of top concern.
Commander Leaf watched as his crew moved to the lifeboats as he lowered the Equestrian flag from the mast, shells continuing to land nearby, splashing water on deck, some shells hitting their mark and causing more damage to the ship.
He folded the flag calmly, and pulled it to his chest when done. He watched the fires on board grow and consume the vessel he commanded. He watched the lifeboats be filled and launched, but yet he did not move. He knew that there were still ponies left alive on his ship, some that could still make it the boats.
He was the first one on this ship when it was sent out on this voyage, and he would be the last off. He knew the dead would not be leaving but if he got home he could tell them that they were the heros in this. The ship could only go as far as its crew allowed.
16th August, 1015 E.C. 1005 Hours
Rear Admiral Aquarium watched, through binoculars, the five destroyers burn, black smoke climbing into the sky. He turned and saw the damage those sinking destroyers had caused, three enemy capital ships were listing heavily and he would be shocked if they got home, at least 5, if not more, cruiser class ships were already halfway beneath the waves.
The remaining ships, about 15, were doing their best to get revenge but they were also breaking off. The torpedo attack was successful. Given enough time he would be able to send a few ships to pick up any surviving ship crews.
Five destroyers traded for three capital ships and at least 5 cruisers. In navy terms, that was a victory. The crews that wouldn't be coming home would be honoured and the survivors given at least a month of leave before reassignment. If any of the commanders lived they were in line for a promotion.
The admiral lowered the binoculars and handed them to the captain, who took them and used them to look at the enemy retreating. Aquarium trotted off the bridge and headed to his quarters. He had a report to write, recommendations to transcribe, and letters home he had to sign. He would be requesting leave for himself after this, he missed his wife and son.
16th August, 1015 E.C. 1109 Hours
In war there was not one true frontline. Commanders and leader had learned this very early, and the larger the nation, the more possible fronts, the more possible defeats.
General Whiplash was well aware of the nuasicances of war. Equestria may have been at peace for a thousand years, but that didn’t mean the world was. Equestria was in the business of loaning out some of its commanders, while also staying neutral in most conflicts. It helped to be the leading peacekeeper and one of the largest nations in the world. Whiplash had seen quite a few conflicts in his time, but none on his home soil.
The Equestrian Western sector was the closest to the Changeling Badlands and the Kingdom of Olenia. Whiplash and the rest of the Equestrian high command had watched Olenia slowly go from a free, democratic state to one that resembled the regime of the Changelings.
The attack on Canterlot a few years ago had made the watching of what they had thought a failing nation into a threat. Of course almost losing had changed a lot in the world.
Whiplash listened to the Western Sector Command Centers ambient noise; the radios chirping, the radar pings, and the chatter of staff. The report of a naval action less than 100 kilometers off the Las Pegasus port had caused a lot of commotion. Division Colonels and Air group commanders had begun giving ready orders to all standing reserves in the western sector. As the sector general Whiplash had given the mobilization order, but he would have to wait for High Command to give the full order. So for the time being, he would ensure that he would have his forces ready to fight, to repel the enemy. But he was not kidding himself, Equestria was big, peaceful, and most importantly, inexperienced. Recent army intelligence reported that the Changelings were most decidedly, not inexperienced.
Whiplash sighed, he had a long day ahead of him. A long night, a long week. The enemy had played the first move, and looked like they would get a second move in before he was able to do anything. He looked around at the command center and the ponies and wondered what was going through their heads, what were they thinking, and what were they planning. This was his staff after all, they would be drawing up battle plans, defense strategies, supply lines and schedules. He sighed again. Life after his promotion to this position had become dull. This war might actually make things a bit more interesting. A third sigh in less than a minute, his mind was really going places right now. The path of glory was paved with the bodies of the dead.
Glory, that was something that Whiplash and every general, in every army, fought for. Some harder than others, and most of the time, they bypassed the price altogether. 9 infantry divisions, 5 armoured, and 3 artillery. Equestrias Western Battlegroup. Over 200,000 ponies, combat and support. All numbers that had to processed and used. That's the worst part, knowing that. 17 combat ready divisions and the ponies in them were nothing more than numbers. It was going to be a long week indeed.
16th August, 1015 E.C. 1430 Hours
3 hours, it had been 3 hours, High Command had finally given the orders, to defend at all costs. Not the exact words but close enough. Whiplash was ordered to hold his position, he was to use his divisions in a retaliatory matter and not an offensive matter. Whiplash knew high command was worried, and honestly he was too.
Luckily the enemy had not shown their next move, they had been quiet, and Whiplash was afraid of that. His mobilization order would not take full effect for at least a week, and they have no idea how long the enemy had been planning this.
Latest Army Intel had the changeling forces at a total of 54 divisions, minimum. Overall 54 was nothing compared to what Equestria had to offer but at the moment it looked like the Western Battlegroup was the only ones to be on this front, meaning, that it was down to his 17 divisions to halt the enemy advance.
High command had refused to send any more reinforcements stating; “that Canterlot and the surrounding area was of higher strategic importance”, and that they were unsure that the changelings would be coming from that direction, even though that's where their Homeland was.
Whiplash sighed, he knew that his 17 divisions would not stop the changelings, they may not even be able to slow them down. He was just a number, that's all he was, that's all they were. He'd hoped that this would have never happened but here he was, commanding an entire section of the equestrian Homefront, defending it from an enemy that by all rights had them outnumbered, outgunned, and out maneuvered. An enemy that was known for its infiltration tactics, and an enemy that could sabotage anything at anytime.
He stared at that map of the western sector. His forehooves rested on the edge of its table. Pieces representing his current positions were placed close to their mustering points. A few of his subordinates had placed markers on locations and destinations for the divisions.
He looked at one of these markers, the one closest to the border and furthest from any division. He considered the outcomes, going for that point would ensure the enemy would most likely be encountered and the division would start the fight to take back the land, or he could move it back a bit, surrender the land, and ensure that his forces wouldn’t be encircled easily.
Over 1500 kilometers of border is what he was defending, and only 17 divisions to work with. He knew that this was improbable. He could put forces in positions that could defend multiple routes at once, as long as he could keep scouts and recon of those routes.
He then moved his gaze on the map to one of the forts that were on the border with Olenia. Formly put there as a friendly gesture, garrisoned by both Equestria and Olenia. But now, with the Olenians having moved out a few years ago, acted more like a buffer and an inviting target. He had 1 division there right now, an artillery division was in reserve, about 50 kilometers to the rear, and a second infantry division about 200 kilometers north-east, who was covering important roads into the Western sectors grassland and a few of the farming towns there.
It was almost a certainty that the enemy would attack the fort, at least along that part of the front. The problem was the whole border with the Changeling Badlands. There was no way to predict how they were coming through. Which was one reason why High Command was uncertain they would.
It was highly likely that they would ignore Equestria for now and go straight for the Crystal Empire. Equestria, with it current standing orders, would be stretched too thin to provide adequate aid. It would be inappropriate to think otherwise.
Whiplash looked at the sector map, he placed a hoof under his chin and hummed. He didn't like having to wait and see, having to react. He wanted to be calling the action and having the enemy react.
He had a few options open to him. Some that would angry his superiors if they caught it before the fighting broken out. Others that would put lives at major risks but have high reward. He was going to play a dangerous gamble.
He called over a few of his staff and got to work drawing up his defense plan. A 17 division defense plan to stop an unknown, mostly, enemy force. Without reinforcements, he would have to pray the enemy believed Equestria had more force than it did. Wishful thinking and good strategy would be the deciding factors in this opening week.
Author's Note
An idea can take years to finally become something worth while. I hope this is one of those ideas. If there any errors, any, please let me know or point it out. This is a story that will update every so often. I will try to keep it out of the once every year area. Thank you all for stopping by.
EDIT: A quick edit here to improve upon and add what I should have had to begin with.
17th August, 1015 E.C. 0400 Hours
Princess Celestia held her head between her hooves, she tried to rub away a growing headache. She didn't sleep at all last night. Not when she had forms and reports to go through.
At about 1000 hundred hours, yesterday morning, an enemy fleet had engaged an Equestrian fleet. The report hadn't reached her ear until much later, at about 1300 hundred hours. Ever since then she'd been in her office, writing out a public announcement speech as more and more reports, files, forms, and food being brought in. She would skim most, sign a few, keep some for further review, and nibble at.
Right now, she was looking at the orders her military staff had given, and wished she could slap everyone of them. She knew though that the orders did make sense, somewhat. She could supersede the orders and give a directive to the sector commanders, but that would undermine her staff, eroding trust she needed right now.
The princess sighed and picked up a pen in her magic. She signed and stamped the written form. She picked up the next file, and smiled a little. It was the rescue operation report, the one right after the naval action. Her smile fell shortly after. The next form would not be a good one.
She glanced at it. And closed her eyes.
She was right, it was the casualty report. Not a good one indeed. 5 destroyers and over half of each's crew would be forever sailing the seas.
She looked at the grandfather clock in her office and noted that she had 2 hours before sunrise and 4 hours before the public announcement. More formality than anything else now, for it was highly likely all of Equestria knew there was a war on. Of course for her and other ponies, this war started a couple years ago at a very specific wedding.
If only she never invited them, then maybe they…
She shook her head.
“No, they declined formally and then used the invitation to get into the city. They were probably planning to invade long before that anyway,” she mumbled to herself.
Things would have ended up a lot different if not for her Guard Captain.
Celestia sighed again, and picked up a picture sitting on her desk. A picture of a purple unicorn dressed in a military uniform, Twilight Sparkle. She was moved off the Guard after the wedding, demoted, and would have been the one to take the whole blame if Celestia hadn't stepped and reminded the Equestrian Council about their actions leading up to the event. Plus her affection toward the unicorn had sped up her own actions.
She placed the picture down and got back to work. Her pen scratching parchment, her stamp pressing firmly on some to give the royal seal.
A requisition form from Cloudsdale Airtech for more materials in their air program. One from the Stallion Company for their armoured projects. A letter from the Canterlot Hospital about her visit a few days ago. Funding request to expand the air base in Vanhoover. A request for her presence at the launch of a new battleship. Her mind was mostly on autopilot signing and stamping.
The chime of her grandfather clock shook her from her signing task. One hour before sunrise.
A knock came from her door.
“Come in.” she said in her usual motherly tone.
Her sister Luna opened the door and stepped in. She looked at the stack of papers on Celestia’s desk.
“I’m not looking forward to that,” Luna said, taking further steps into the room.
“Well you can’t get out of it this morning, there are few here that need both our input,” Celestia responded, “Would you like them now or shall I send them with a servant?”
Celestia smiled while floating up a couple papers she set aside for this exact thing.
Luna wrapped them in her magic and pulled them towards her, Celestia releasing them.
“I’ll take them now, no reason burdening others when I’m already here,” Luna said, while glancing at the top paper. She turned to the right and approached a tea set. Checking the kettle for water, finding none, she cast a spell to fill it with water, and got it boiling for tea.
“Jasmine or Lavender today?” she asked.
“Neither, I’m going to be having coffee soon,” Celestia answered, “but thank you dear sister.”
Luna looked over to Celestia with a raised eyebrow, “Didn’t sleep, did you?”
Celestia shook her head no. Her pen scratched at another paper.
Luna frowned and moved towards her sister, “You really mustn't do this to yourself, you will need your sleep for the coming days.”
Luna stopped at the front of Celestia’s desk, “After the announcement, you will sleep. I will take care of today's court.”
Celestia chuckled, “Then what about your sleep, hmmm?”
“Do you think I stay up all night and sleep during the day?” Luna, playfully, asked, “Yes I watch dreams but that requires me to be dreaming, sister.” Luna moved around Celestia's desk and wrapped a wing around her sister.
“Besides painting with natural light is much better,” Luna said with a smile and a playful twinkle.
Celestia smiled and allowed herself to relax and deflate a bit. Her mane lost its luster and stopped flowing. She looked at her sister and spoke low and softly.
“Thank you, Luna. You are the best sister any pony could ask for.”
Luna snorted, “You only say that because you don't have work now,” Luna smiled brighter, “You are my dear sister, and I would do anything for you,” she picked up a few papers in her magic, “Including your paperwork.”
Celestia laughed, she pulled Luna closer, “Thank you. I know this is only the beginning and we are going to have more trying days, know that I will be there for you.”
Luna nuzzled into Celestia's neck, “I know, sister, I know.”
They stayed like this for a few moments, basking in the sisterly affection that they rarely get to partake in while ruling a nation. They would have more moments, and they would lose themselves like this every time. And that was good, for in the years to come, they would need this. A moment of peace in what would seem like endless war.
17th August, 1015 E.C. 1015 Hours
General Whiplash turned off the radio with his wing. The public announcement of the war was done. Over 30 minutes of informing and inspiring the general public. A necessary action to keep the public as calm as possible. Of course the general public will probably shrug it off for now, some will go into a panic, and others will become hometown patriots.
Whiplash looked at the sector map for maybe the hundredth time today, and reminded himself of all the towns he was in charge of defending. All the lives both military and civilian.
30 years ago, he would have taken great pleasure in knowing he was in charge. 30 years ago the level technology was a lot lower, weapons weren't made for mass killing. It took hours to kill a couple hundred and now it took minutes or even one well placed artillery barrage.
He feared the reports that would be coming. He knew Equestria was not ready for this. Over a thousand years of peace does that. Of course the Princess had tried to account by loaning out some generals from time to time, in an attempt to give some wartime experiences to the peaceful nation.
Equestrias size and diversity worked against it when it came to war experience. Equestria had a lot to throw around, which translated to an equally large or powerful nation was the only real threat. The collective power of the Griffin City-States were the only ones that could outnumber Equestria.
This wasn't to say other nations couldn't ally and do the same but it was less likely. And of course, that was exactly what was happening.
Olenia and the Changeling Nation were joining together to challenge Equestria. Whiplash knew what happened in the coming weeks would determine if anymore nations joined them.
Whiplash, still looking at the map, worked in his mind the plans and defensive lines that he and his staff had spent all day drawing up. Some of those were on the map, the ones that were the most important. There were a few that were backups or secondary.
This was a defensive war right now. Whiplash would have many sleepless nights ahead.
He blinked away some sleep as a staff officer came up to the map and moved an armoured division piece forward. After staring at the same place for a full 5 minutes, he shook his head and stepped back and watched as more officers moved pieces forward.
17th August, 1015 E.C. 1328 Hours
The tracks squeaked, the engines rumbled, as the armoured column moved down the road. The asphalt was handling the tonnage moving over it pretty well. There were ponies were walking on the side of the road as the armor rolled passed, some waved, others just nodded.
The column passed one of their own, a pony leaning into the engine compartment.
“Another breakdown,” Staff Sergeant Beat said into his headset.
“That's the fourth one so far,” a voice replied, Beat recognized it as his driver Corporal Mythic Song.
“Only 30 kilometers to our destination,” Sergeant Ocean Note’s voice said, “Don't jinx us.”
“30 kilometers and at least 2 stops, we're already at half empty on fuel,” Mythic shot back.
“Plus slowing down for our infantry,” Corporal Shuffle Wing's voice added.
The crew's newest addition kept quiet, Beat took note of the Privates shyness. When he first met with him, the private was very reserved. Not necessarily a problem, but communication in armor was very important. New guy jitters would have to be gone before enemy contact. Beat mentally added that to his to do list, the first stop would do.
“I'm glad we aren't in the old Mark 3’s,” Mythic said.
“Or 2’s,” Shuffle added.
“The eggheads back home gave us a great upgrade in fuel efficiency and speed, let's not jinx it before we even see the enemy,” Beat added to the discourse.
The next few minutes were silent, save for the rumble of the armor. The crew watched ponies on the side of the road resting, eating a quick ration, or walking along. A division of armor and infantry moving along the Equestrian countryside.
They passed another tank pulled off to the side, this looked to be a platoon leader with a stripe on the barrel.
The pony in the commander's hatch waved at him.
“Mythic, pull us over, let's see what he wants,” Beat ordered.
The tank slowed and angled over, the pony from the other tank hopped down and started over.
Mythic brought the tank to a stop.
“Standard check gentleponies, Private, come with me,” Beat ordered as he lifted himself out. He hopped down to the ground as the Lieutenant reached him.
“Thanks for stopping, been trying to get someone to for awhile now,” the Lieutenant said.
“Really? Well, I'm sorry about that L.T. Kinda weird if you tell me. Where's your platoon?” Beat asked.
“Yeah, weird,” the Lieutenant mumbled, “Platoon should be unloading on the fifth train, and before ask, no I don't know why, my guess would be they wanted the leads here first but I've seen way too many regs for that to be true.”
Beat thought about that for a second and realized all the tanks he had seen so far had been regs like them and this was the first leader he had seen. His tank was unloaded on the second wave but that still meant there was a serious logistical error.
“Maybe they are already further ahead,” Private Sandy Grove said.
The L.T. shook his head, “As far as I can tell, I'm the furthest along. I had a few pings over the radio as we left the depot, but they were just arriving at the depot.”
The L.T. looked behind him, “What gets me is the fact that I can't raise the advance group. I checked the time they were supposed to call in, that was half an hour ago.”
Beat rubbed his chin, “Well, our objective is still pretty far out, we got a forest to maneuver through. Maybe that forest is causing our equipment grief.”
The L.T. thought about that, but shook his, “The comms equipment is suppose to work even in the Everfree. Something has to be actively jamming it. Which is bad.”
They all nodded together. Active jamming, unknown enemy, however unlikely, the enemy may already be past the fort. Which meant the objective would be unreachable unless they punched through.
“Lieutenant, if I may suggest,” Beat started, “We halt here and get any and all who will listen to stay until we can get a Major or Colonel here.”
The L.T. nodded, “That sounds good, if we keep sending our forces forward without word,” he shook his head again.
Beat saluted as the lieutenant turned and headed back to his tank. Beat turned toward his own tank and called over the headset, “Mystic, move the tank to block the road, we’re holding until further notice.”
Mystic’s response to move the tank to block the road and then popped his hatch open to look out. It wasn’t long before the next tank stopped and asked what was happening. Beat explained and that tank took up a position to help block the road. The lieutenant was on his radio still try to raise anypony back at the depot but to no avail. After 3 hours, the road black became a small camp that was growing large by the minute. After 4 hours they finally had somepony higher than a lieutenant. That pony ordered this the staging area for the push toward the two divisions objective.
The border fort would be by itself for a few more days.
Author's Note
And we continue, or I continue, not sure right now. Thanks to all of those who have read this so far.
22nd August, 1015 E.C. 1149 Hours
Heavy breathing, quick hoof work jumping over downed trees, and gunfire. Three days of running and hiding in this forest and Lance Corporal Winternight had finally been found. The mad dash he was on now was to get as far from his enemy as possible. A bullet whizzed past him and impacted a tree near him.
The bark on the tree exploded off and showered Winternight in debis. A searing pain in his left back leg almost stopped him from running. He broke the treeline a few seconds later, the sun assaulted his eyes but he kept moving. Buzzing and chirps nearby alerted him to other beings. When his eyes adjusted more, while he was still running, he realized that he was surrounded by Changelings.
He didn’t stop, he put his shoulder down, and charged the changeling in front of him. The sickening crack of chitin and the body flying away from him gave Winternight a confidence boost in his Earth pony heritage. Weapons all around him opened up, but he kept his head down and galloped all the harder.
He looked up once and saw a wall of stone and muzzle flashes. The border fort his unit was supposed to be reinforce. The state of the walls did not instill good feelings. He glanced to his right and left as he galloped, a Changeling battleline and trenches coming just out the forest was all he could register. Flashes of rifle, machine guns, and heavy guns drew the eye the most. Very little return flashes drew the eye second.
He galloped as fast as he could towards the wall, the gates were closed of course, he would need to find some other way in. He came right to the wall and turned left, noticing no Changelings had followed him, but were taking potshots at him. He galloped for a bit before coming across a hole in the wall. He skidded to a stop and turned around. Bullets impacted the wall, the ground, and Winternight.
Blood erupted from his flank and a scream erupted from his mouth. He scrambled to the hole and jumped in. A rifle barrel was placed on his head as he breathed heavily on the floor. The little hallway he was in said that it was a maintenance tunnel, but the sandbags and machine guns pointing at the hole gave a bit of a different tone. The walls may be getting hit, may seem to be crumbling, but this fort was very much alive and heavily defended.
“That was a nice run,” a voice behind the barrel started, “we already have a medic on his way down, stay put and don’t move too much.”
The barrel lifted from his head and Winternight closed his eyes. He might be able to get some sleep after three sleepless nights.
22nd August, 1015 1245 Hours
General Whiplash groaned into his hooves. The map table he was resting on showed the most current positions of his forces. Not one was where it should have been. Some were not even fully mobilized.
Logistics, it was always logistics. He remembered back to his first conflict between two Griffion City-States, that he had forgotten about their dietary needs and had nearly starved his own army, thankfully his position as military advisor and not general saved him from full embarrassment. But then that had him remember the Yaks and the White Bears border dispute, where he hadn’t forgotten that time but had failed to inform the Yaks of how to protect their supply lines.
Granted that wasn’t his full responsibility, the Yaks could have at least stepped up there. Yet, now here he was, in his own country, with the same issue. Not food issues, but with the fact that his forces couldn’t get organized before some of the Field Commanders had tried to grab the glory for themselves.
Over 15 thousand soldiers were already missing or dead. He was just now receiving messages that Fort Olenia was not sending or responding to communications, his reinforcing force 20 kilometers away, the artillery still stocking ammunition and more than half of his armor breaking down on the road. The only good thing going for him was the fact the infantry at least woke up on time for breakfast.
He massaged his temples, sat back and away from the table. He got out of his chair and began moving towards the door, to leave the command room and get some fresh air. He was at his wits end right now and could only wait for the units to reorganize under his order. Everything always took time, he knew that, he didn’t like it, but everyone got older before they ever got younger.
He passed several commanders and office staff before he got to the door that led outside, all of them wanted to report or suggest or tell him something. He waved them all off, he was not in the mood for this. Fives days was a long time to be in a mood for anything. He walked across the little park plaza in front of the Western Command Center, in the center of Vanhoover. One of Equestria's cities spread out around him, one that he was protecting.
He spread his wings and jumped into air and flew down the street, at first just feeling the freedom, then the relaxation. He didn’t fly long before he landed in front of a small little cafe of sorts. He pushed open the door and was greeted by a familiar beak.
“Ah, General, usual today?” asked a lanky looking griffon, dark brown feathers covering his head and shoulders but white feathers for the rest of the body, including his wings.
“No, just a coffee, for now George,” Whiplash said.
“No coffee at the base today?” George asked, with amused tone.
Whiplash shot him a look and George threw his talons up in defense before disappearing behind a door. Whiplash finally looked around the rest of the place and spotted the other regular face here.
“Well, Councilpony Undercloud, can’t imagine why you are here,” Whiplash called out with a smirk.
Undercloud looked over to Whiplash with a look of surprise, as if he didn’t know he had come in yet.
“Why, what does that imply, my dear General,” Undercloud replied with, in an Applelossan accent.
Whiplash's smirk grew, “Why, it implies that you are always here, of course.”
Undercloud smiled, “Well then I guess that’s fine, considering both of us tend to always be here together.”
They both laughed at each other as Whiplash sat down with Undercloud. They both settled down and Undercloud took a sip of his coffee. Whiplash deflated a bit, losing a bit of the mirth he had after the exchange.
“Tell me Feather, do I look tired to you?” Whiplash asked.
“Well, in my professional opinion, you look horrible,” Feather answered, “I can only imagine the stress that is on you. I, myself, am feeling a bit of that on the council.”
Whiplash grinned a little, “Well, at least I’m not alone.”
“I don’t believe you will be alone in this for a long time coming. The world has finally brought its ire to Equestria. It is most unfortunate that it happened in our lifetime.”
“Better now than later, I think.”
Feather raised eyebrow at that, “Are you still in the mind that Equestria is not prepared?”
“Of course, but we are better prepared now than if this happened after another hundred years of peace and contentment.”
George brought the coffee and set it down in front of Whiplash. Whiplash wasted no time in take a sip of the brew.
“Well, aside from the horrible business that is this war, it has brought me some mild success,” Feather stated.
Whiplash waited for him to continue, hiding behind the warmth that was the coffee.
“The Vanhoover council has finally elected one of its own for a seat on the Equestrian Council, years of prodding them was helped along by this crisis,” Undercloud lowered his head, “It loathes me to admit that I took such an advantage from this.”
Whiplash looked squarely at Feather, he knew the act, he had seen it before, but this time did seem different, “You know just as I do, that others will be taking advantage of this, some more then others.”
“Doesn't make it easier to stomach,” Whiplash sighed. Feather was right, his advantage put him a position capable of helping him and the effort, if Feather wanted to. Other ponies would be taking advantage much the same way but a few bad seeds would only be in it for themselves. He sipped a bit more of his coffee and hummed, what he wanted to do next was not something he wanted to do initially, but the opportunity had just appeared and with Feather’s promotion, of sorts, it was even better. But he was dreading the cost.
Whiplash sipped his drink again and sighed, now or never, “I know I may regret this, but I need a favor.”
Feather eyes locked onto Whiplash's’ eyes, for a second they stayed silent, the Feather nodded to continue.
“Your new position allows for this to be easier, on me, but when you get to Canterlot for Council, can you persuade them for reinforcements. The situation here will only worsen, if….”
Feather put a hoof up to stop Whiplash, “Regret nothing, for this time I shall do this with no payment required,” Feather eyed Whiplash, “Know that is not normal, but circumstances warrant this change of character.”
Feather took a long swig of his drink, “Have the sector Generals been called to Canterlot for a Strategy meeting?”
Whiplash narrowed his eyes at Feather. Feather knew the answer to that, why ask it.
“Of course the answer is no, considering you are sitting here, you ask yourself why I ask of you, have you received any summons or a communication about it upcoming?”
Whiplash thought back and realized, that no summons or even mention of a meeting had been made. Which, almost a week into the war, he should have had something.
“By the look on your face, I know the answer already,” Feather said, “When I get to Canterlot, I will be meeting with the Princesses to formally recognize my new post. They will be informed of this oversight and it will hopefully be corrected in a timely manner.”
Feather looked away from Whiplash, “This is a time of fear, as you know, but I dislike those that allow fear to cloud their judgement. Even more so, I despise those that use that fear to cower while they should be leading.”
Feather took a long drink from his drink, putting the cup on the table, he stood up, “Fear not old friend, for by this time next month, you shall have the reinforcements you need.”
He smiled warmly, something Whiplash knew happened less than an alicorn being born. Nothing else was said, Feather walked out and Whiplash sat quietly, sipping his coffee, relaxing, the stress washing away for now. He knew he needed to head back soon.
Whiplash smiled himself, he may not know the exact measure of his enemy but the war was young and anything could happen.
He frowned again.
Anything could happen.
22nd August, 1015 E.C. 1414 Hours
The cockpit rumbled from the power of the engine, the pilot oblivious to the rumble due to continued exposure. His eyes were forward, watching for any irregularities in the cloud and sky around him. He rolled his craft to the left to get a better view of the forest he was trying to spot in. After five second he rolled back.
Normally a fighter wouldn’t be doing this, but with most, if not all, the spotting planes over the sea and ports, exceptions had to be made. Of course that also meant that instead of being able to do this for a few hours, he was only going to be able to make one quick pass by the area before he reached his fuel limit. He rolled to the right and from his altitude he could see the informal forward operating base of the 4th armoured and the 17th infantry.
He rolled back again. He was coming up on the main point of his flight today. One of the few roads that went through the forest, and the one roads those from the FOB would be taking. Earlier this week, a particular field officer got spooked by the lack of communications he was having and convinced a staff officer to halt the march, thus now, Flight Lieutenant Soarin had to do this errand boy run.
He rolled over left again a he came upon the road and tried to look into the forest. Stopping thing in the water or in open air and ground was relevantly easy, this was not. The forest was a good hiding place for many reasons; the tree tops, the shadows, the underbush, and the animals that resided there, they all contributed to the difficulty of spotting anything out of the ordinary.
As he flew past, his mind caught something. A darker shadow that compared to the rest of the forest, it was out of place. And then he saw other, and now as his eyes were starting to pick out these things, he saw smaller shapes that didn’t move like animals. And just as quickly, he flew past the road and rolled back over to the right and pitched to put his plane into a sharp turn. He headed back to base, he had seen for his own eyes what everypony was fearing.
The enemy was already inside the borders. He pushed a lever forward, giving his plane a bit more fuel and increasing the power for a speed boost. Not only were they inside the borders, he thought, but they had armor with them, set up for ambush. He took a look behind him and thought about the fort that was just on the other side of the forest. As he did, he noticed something else, a small speck on his 4 o’clock, it looked to be in a small dive and was heading straight for him.
Soarin cursed to himself. When his mind got stuck on seeing the impossible, he forgot to keep his senses around him, and now it looked like he had a contender for the skies after him. He had a couple of options, keep going as he was, which considering the enemies dive, wouldn’t be the best, or dive himself and try to use the new speed to get away or if that fails, start the fight himself.
A second later Soarin pushed the stick down and started his fighter into a dive. He checked behind him and saw that the enemy was following suit and was steepening his dive. He looked back forward, he about ten seconds before he had to pull up. He thought about his options now. Five seconds.
Soarin pitched up and rolled to the right and got a quick look at the fighter behind him as it flew past him. He wasn’t well versed in Changeling planes, but he knew this one was fast and light. He pulled the stick harder to the right to complete his roll and tried to get behind the enemy, the enemy was already turning away and up from him. So instead of following after Soarin came out of his maneuver going away from his hunter.
He looked all around him real quick, looking for any other things he may had missed, and luckily found nothing. He looked back over to his hunter and saw him finish his turn to come after Soarin. At this Soarin pulled back the power lever and slowed down and rolled right again, while pulling his rudders to the left, putting his craft into a skid. At about the midpoint he nosed down and pushed the lever forward for speed as relaxed the rudders and roll a bit, this move brought him into a head-on course with his hunter. About three hundred meters out and closing. He straightened out and close the distance in a second and both planes fired off a burst from there guns.
He flew past his opponent while his plane shuddered a bit from the impact of the rifle caliber rounds. He rolled left and looked for his prey. At first he didn’t see him, so he pulled harder left but then noticed the black smoke rising from below. He smiled to himself as he angled away and back to base.
23rd August, 1015 E.C. 0832 Hours
Whiplash read the last few lines again, memorizing the number, 309. Missing in action, but he knew that in reality these ponies were already dead. Marched right into a trap, a trap that by the looks of the most recent recon reports, was probably there before the fleet action 6 days ago.
At least a week worth preparation put the enemy at an advantage. One that will prove difficult to get through. Not impossible, just difficult. Whiplash already had some staff saying it was impossible, and he knew somepony needed to be positive. Even if it took every bit his strength to do so.
Not that he was in the camp, that the war was lost, he was just extremely angry at High Command. No reinforcements, no new orders, and after his talk with Undercloud, the realization of no summit.
The doctrine that Equestria was so keen to follow right now, stated that a General's summit should called for all sector commanders, so that a more in-depth, better working plan action could drawn up. The quick mobilization order was done to get the troops where they were mostly needed. Having the generals that were on the front come home and explain, face-to-face, the situation to everypony, including other on the front generals, would allow for better allocation of resources.
Whiplash sighed heavily. He was worked up again. He knew that the summit would be called within the first two weeks. Of course he had to go digging through some documents to find that. It was impractical to think that High Command could call all Generals in within the day. The generals that were furthest away were notified first given time to arrange transport and then the ones closest would be notified.
His talk with Undercloud had spurred that dig for information. The thing that now kept popping into his head was why was Undercloud the one to remind him of the summit. And why did Whiplash get so worked up about it. He knew, rationally, that the summit would happen and he had know about it but in the moment it just kinda overwhelmed him with anger.
He trusted Undercloud about as much as one would trust their local politician but Whiplash has known him for a least a decade and in that time he had never known him to offer a favor without some form of payment. Did he say it to be sincere or was the more to it?
A knock at his door interrupted his musings.
“Come in,” he answered.
The door opened and his secretary poked her head in, “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but Colonel Fields is here.”
“Thank you, Blossom, tell him I'll be with him shortly.”
The secretary nodded and closed the door.
Whiplash sighed. He had his responsibilities here to worry about more than what Undercloud had cooking behind closed doors. He put the reports he was reading down and got up to leave. He opened his door and glanced back at his desk for a few seconds, then walked out the door.
23rd August, 1015 E.C. 1856 Hours
Commander Leaf looked out over the ocean as he sat on a park bench. The first bit of relaxation he had gotten since returning to port about 3 days ago. Meetings, hearings, and after action reports. After all the official Navy ‘need-to-dos’ done, he had taken upon himself to enjoy the reason he had enlisted.
The ocean was remarkably beautiful as the sun set over it. He remembered the first time he watched the sun set over it when he was growing up. The serenity and calm that it brought him, the homeyness that it gave him.
He shut his eyes and lost himself to the memories. After all that had happened, these memories seemed so long ago. His school and his naval academy years marked by swimming competitions and parties. Even his marriage and subsequent divorce seemed forever ago now. Amazing what six days of anxiety and stress could do some ponies. And now looking back at it all, it all seemed miniscule to what would be happening soon.
“This seat taken?” asked a voice, interrupting his trip down memory lane. A voice he was surprised to hear.
Leaf opened his eyes to see Admiral Aquarium standing off to the side. Leaf gestured to him to take the seat. Aquarium wordlessly sat next to him and they both looked out over the ocean, silent for several minutes. But like the peace in Leafs life, the silence ended.
“It’s good to see I’m not the only one that finds calm in the sea,” said Aquarium, still looking out over the sea, “Never gets old looking out, and losing yourself in the waves.”
Leaf merely nodded, whether the admiral saw or not made no difference.
Aquarium sighed and looked towards Leaf, “I’m sorry I’m interrupting this peaceful moment but I have some things we should discuss and I feel that here is much better than my office, regulation be damned.”
That last was muttered but clearly meant to still be heard, and that's what gotten Leafs attention the most. The admiral was forgoing regulation for this, the admiral deserved his attention for it.
“Congratulation Captain Leaf, you're the first Captain to be promoted in war and without all the fancy ceremonies.”
Leaf closed the pin box and set into his own coat pocket. He didn’t say a word. He wasn’t speechless, he just had nothing to say.
“And you will be getting a new ship and crew and of course those aren’t complete without orders,” The admiral continued, “We’ll start with the ship, a light cruiser, purpose built for anti-air duties.”
Leaf looked at the admiral quizcally, “An anti-air cruiser, sir?”
“Yup, bit of a shock to me too, figured we were looking to build bigger ships than that but three of these have been built already and it seems they already have an idea for their use.”
The admiral looked back out the sea and continued, “Smaller guns and more of them, four turrets, three barrels each. Dual-purpose.”
“So it will have airburst shells?” Leaf asked and Aquarium nodded. Leaf hummed to himself.
“Now onto the orders, you'll still be under my under command and we will be operating out of the same port but we will be in a different task force.”
The admiral looked back at Leaf, the look in his eye held Leaf still, “Now that’s all I have for you here, what I feel safe telling you. Come to my office later tonight and I’ll give you the rest.”
He got up from the bench and looked out over the ocean, “but for now, enjoy the remaining sunlight,” he said as he walked away, leaving Leaf to watch the last few rays of sunlight sparkle on the water.
23rd August, 1015 E.C. 2026 Hours
Sergeant Beat trotted out of the company command tent with a mix of emotions. Anxiety and fear the most prevalent. The briefing that he was just in was for tomorrow's operation, the first official op for this war, as far as Beat knew.
His company was to be the vanguard in the attempt to push into the forest. 20 tanks and their crews would be spread out in an advancing line reaching about 3500 meters from the center, or the road that would be using as a center.
The first phase would be to get to 1 km of the forest and get into position. The second would be the advancing line firing smoke shells when at 2000 meters from the forest edge, outside of effective range of our guns and hopefully the enemies. The third phase would then be an all stop at the forest and neutralizing all targets of opportunity. Holding this position till the fourth phase, an infantry push into the forest.
The fourth phase was dependant on the armour holding their position. Two full companies of infantry would then sweep into the forest to create a breach into it. Of course the main issue was lack of enemy intelligence.
The most they had was possibly the most most basic an army could have, they existed and they were in front of them. Beat was terrified of this lack. The captain was reluctant to answer any questions regarding casualty estimates.
One company of armour didn't seem to be enough and the two infantry companies also fell short of what Beat believed should be attacking. Of course following that line of thought alluded to the casualty estimates. That realization terrified him less than he would have liked.
In all likelihood that he was to die tomorrow. His crew and all of the company. Beat knew that these orders were suicide and that he had a choice to make to his crew tonight, tell them or keep silent.
“Brushed Beat, is that you,” a voice said from behind, interrupting Beat’s thoughts.
Beat turns around to face the voices owner, a orange maned, light brown earth pony.
“It is you,” the pony holds up a hoof for a shake, “Sargeant Hollow Lane, from academy.”
Beat shakes his hoof, trying to remember the stallion.
“Judging from the confused expression, you don’t remember me,” they both finishing the hoofshake, “Didn’t really expect you too of course, we were in different platoons at the time.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t really pay attention to the other trainees at the time,” Beat says.
Lane waves a hoof at him, “No big deal, we talked one night one guard rotation and then we graduated about a month later.”
“Must have said some pretty good things for you to remember me.”
Lane shakes his head, “Nope, I talked, you shushed me, but my mind like to keep all things together, heck I even remember my 2nd birthday, and what my best friend's favorite color was.”
Beat’s eye went wide, “Wow really, that's impressive.”
Lane shrugged, “You’d think so, but my mind gets so cluttered sometimes that I have to take this potion to erase most of my memories every night.”
Beat was taken aback by this and didn’t say anything, he couldn’t.
Lane laughed, “Don’t worry, I still remember all the important stuff but stuff like saying hi to a stranger gets washed away, it helps greatly and it's so much better than the headaches.”
Beat shook slowly to break his shock, “Wow, I’m sorry, that must be tough still.”
Lane shrugged again, “Anyway, I see you are part of first company and I heard about the plan for tomorrow,” Lane seemed to just leave his sentence there, he looked past Beat and not in his eyes, “My company will be following you after the infantry push into the forest.”
Beat looked down, “I don’t think you will be following up after us at all, given what we have to work with.”
“Maybe, but the brass wouldn’t come up with a plan like this unless there was a chance of success.”
Beat looked back up at Lane, “That much faith in command?”
“Not so much faith, but hope,” Lane walked forward and placed a hoof on Beat’s shoulder, “We have no idea what to expect for tomorrow and we will all be going in eventually. Command thinks one company of armour will be good enough to start this out and I’m sure that your C.O. will pull out before you get shredded,” Lane ended with a smile.
Beat couldn’t help but smirk at this pony’s hope, “Thanks, I don’t believe you, but thanks.”
Lane removed his hoof and shrugged once again, “Believe me, have hope, no matter, we have our orders now and the enemy is at the door, knocking and snarling,” he turns away and starts toward the latrines, “I for one wish I could be the one that hits them first but I’m digging more crap holes tonight.”
Beat stared after Lane for a bit before returning to his crew and tank. He told them about the operation tomorrow. Mythic Song dug out a hidden bottle of cheap wine and placed it in the open shell holder next to his seat. Shuffle Wing started counting the shells and Ocean Note got about to checking and rechecking his aiming optics. They would be ready for tomorrow.
Author's Note
Edited: Forgot to add the timestamps, of all things.
Thanks to everyone that has favorited this and to all who is reading this.
