A War On Two Fronts

Turner could barely see as he lay on the table, staring up at ceiling with a large bright light glaring down at him. He couldn’t move an inch, he couldn’t speak, all he could do was lay there and feel the nigh unbearable pain in his side. There were minotaurs in doctor’s coats walking back and forth around him, a few nurses, and maybe some orderlies… At least, he thought they were orderlies. As he lay there he could hear shouting to his right, but he couldn’t turn his head to see who it was.

“Stand aside, Captain.” A voice spoke above it all, Turner recognized it from somewhere but for the life of him he couldn’t remember where. After a few moments he saw movement beside the table, his eyes moved to focus on it and he could see the face of none other than Princess Luna looking down at him. Beside her was Thomas, who looked like he was about to lose his shit… There was another figure there as well, but the light made it harder to see. “Can he hear us?”

“If he can see us it’s a fair bet he can hear us.” Thomas replied, Turner tried to speak but all that came out was a rasping cough. “Hey, don’t try to talk, the unicorns had to put a holding spell on you to stop the bleeding. The princess is gonna free it up near your head, okay?” Turner could only stare up at the three figures with uncertainty, the Princess’ horn glowed and he felt the force holding him in place around his head vanish. The third figure moved around the table to the other side, stopping near his head and reaching a hand down towards his neck, his eyes went wide when they stepped into the light. It was a human woman with long brown hair and soft brown eyes, he could barely make out any other distinctions from that.

“S-Sam…?” Turner asked tiredly, the woman took her hand from his neck.

“Who’s Sam?” She asked, looking at Thomas and the Princess, her voice had a slight accent… Turner couldn’t place it, and something about her clothes seemed off as well… Familiar, but different. The details were all fuzzy.

“That’s his wife’s name.” Thomas replied, the man put a hand on his chest and leaned down to look at him. “You’re gonna be okay, man. Just sit tight.” The woman walked around the table towards Thomas and the Princess, taking them into a sort of huddle. Despite that, Turner could make out what they were saying.

“His pulse is thready, and he’s lost a lot of blood. He’s going to need a transfusion.” The woman said quietly, occasionally glancing over towards him. “The bullet lodged pretty close to one of his kidneys, he’s lucky though… A couple inches to the right and he’d be paralyzed.”

“I’m O negative, can’t I donate?” Thomas replied, he too glanced towards Turner who was starting to feel somewhat faint.

“You’ll have to.” The woman replied quietly. “It’s been years since I’ve operated on a human, but I’ll do all I can. We shouldn’t wait any longer, time is short.” Turner put together what about the woman’s clothing had seemed off… It was a Griffon Uniform. Turner started trying to say something, but all he could do was stammer out a few syllables. The group looked at him as he started to close his eyes, he just felt so tired. The woman looked at one of the nurses that seemed to be paying attention and spoke in a firm tone. “Get him prepped, now. I’ll scrub.”

That was the last thing Turner heard before he closed his eyes and fell unconscious…

When turner opened his eyes again, he wasn’t anywhere, really. It was just a white space for as far as the eye could see. The man looked around, then looked down at himself. He found himself wearing his dusty combat fatigues, his hands were also covered in dirt and his face had the same noticeable feel of grime. The man quietly felt where he had been shot, but there was no pain or any sign a wound had ever existed. When he checked his arm he found that the gash was also gone without a trace.

“What the fuck…?” Turner asked under his breath, he reached for his sidearm but found that it was missing. His helmet was also gone, exposing his unkempt hair for anyone to see. “Where in the fuck am I?”

“You’re the bible thumper, you figure it out.” A voice replied from behind him, Turner spun around and found himself staring at someone he had never expected to see again. “Hey there, Kid. Been a while.”

“Uncle Jonah?” Turner asked in surprise, the bear of a man standing in front of him had the distinct appearance of a motorcyclist. A leather vest, sleeveless shirt, jeans, boots and tattoos up and down his arms. One of the many tattoos depicted the country of Vietnam, another showed the emblem of the First Cavalry Division. Most notable about the man was his grey hair and a beard so long and bushy he looked like he could be on the cover of a ZZ Top Album. “You’re dead, I was at your funeral…”

“That should give you some idea of where you are then, eh?” His Uncle replied with a smirk before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing pack of cigarettes. The man offered one to Turner, who readily accepted it and reached instinctively for his lighter… It, like his side arm, was missing.

“If you’re dead, and I can see you...?” Turner asked as his Uncle offered him the use of his own lighter, he took a puff on the cigarette before exhaling. His Uncle took a drag of his own cigarette, exhaling it in a smoke ring. “Am I... Dead too?”

“That remains to be seen.” His Uncle replied with a shrug, he looked over his shoulder and a door materialized out of thin air. “This place is pretty boring, kid. Mosey on over here with me.” Jonah walked towards the door, and Turner followed close behind him. The man opened the door and stepped through it, holding it open for his nephew. What lay beyond wasn’t what Turner had been expecting.

It was a dingy bar with a pool table, large clouds of cigar and cigarette smoke hung in the air, and there were at least half a dozen people there. Most of them wore military uniforms ranging from ancient to futuristic in nature. Turner followed his uncle towards the Bar and sat down on one of the stools beside him, the bartender looked oddly familiar to him, but Turner couldn’t place it. The jukebox in the corner was playing something by ‘Clutch’ from the sound of it. Honestly, Turner liked the feel of the place, even if he was hesitant to drink.

“So, you’ve got a helluva war story, eh?” Uncle Jonah asked with a raised eyebrow as he signaled the bartender for two glasses of scotch. “Some guys here have fought aliens, but not quite like you.”

“Well, it’s not by choice. I got drafted.” Turner replied as he leaned on the bar and took a sip of the scotch, he set the glass down and took a drag on his cigarette. “Fuck, that’s smooth.” His Uncle chuckled slightly and sipped his own glass. “So, if I’m not dead, what am I doing here?”

“Well, I said that remains to be seen.” His Uncle replied with a shrug, the man tapped the ashes for his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. “It’s been a while since we talked, from what I’ve heard you got dealt a pretty shit hand.”

“I wouldn’t call it that… I mean, yeah at first it was rough.” Turner replied, he stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and took another sip of the scotch. “I got married, got a kid on the way too.” He smiled faintly as he looked down into his glass, his smile gradually faded though. “I suppose maybe now that the war is on though, it has been a pretty shit hand.” The man downed what was left in his glass. “I’ve done things I told myself I’d never do… Lost people I told myself I’d never lose.”

His Uncle just sat there quietly, nodding his head and smoking his cigarette while he listened. Turner sighed as the bartender filled his glass again, which prompted him to take another sip.

“Half the time I don’t recognize myself, y’know?” Turner added, his Uncle took a sip of his drink and put out his own cigarette. “Does it ever get easier?”

“No… At least, it didn’t for me.” Jonah replied in a sympathetic tone. “You just find different ways to move past things is all, that’s what I did.” The man paused, then shrugged. “Then again, you saw how I bought the farm, so what the fuck do I know?”

“Here lies Sergeant Jonah S. Turner, killed in a tragic wiffle ball accident.” Turner said in a deadpanned tone, the two of them broke out laughing almost simultaneously. “How the fuck you ever managed to do that I’ll never know.” The two men drank from their glasses, the sound of pool balls clacking against each other in the background. “Do you mind if I ask you a question? Change the topic?”

“You just did.” Jonah flatly stated, Turner looked at him with a rather annoyed expression. “Go ahead, kid.”

“When you heard about the stuff between my mom and dad were, y’know, having problems… Why didn’t you come and get me out of there?” Turner asked, Jonah sat there quietly as if thinking on an answer. “I always looked up to you, y’know? When mom got the way she got, I always thought you’d bust open the door and get her to stop… I realize that wasn’t something that could happen, but did you ever think of getting me?”

“I didn’t know about it until much later, and by then it was out of my hands or your dad’s hands.” Jonah replied with a sigh, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I can say that despite all that shit, you came out with a pretty good head on your shoulders.” Turner sighed and took another sip of his drink, after which he set it down and looked at the bartender.

“You got a grill or something in this joint?” Turner asked, the bartender silently gestured to the bar in front of Turner where the man found himself looking at a plate with a large greasy cheese burger with a heaping pile of french fries. “Oh, you’re good.” The man picked up the burger and took a large bite, he hummed softly as he chewed it and swallowed. “Fuck, this place is great.”

“Well, glad you like it.” Jonah said with a smile, Turner didn’t waste any time wolfing down the burger and the accompanying fries. “Whoa, slow down there, kid.”

“No fuckin’ way, this beats the shit out of the chow on the front.” Turner said as he wiped his lips with the sleeve of his uniform jacket. “If I end up going back there, I want to at least get a decent meal here.” His Uncle stroked his beard quietly as if in thought before looking at a clock on the wall and sighing. “What’s up?”

“Remember how I said it was a toss up to see if you stayed here or not? Well, the coin’s about to be tossed.” Jonah replied, Turner looked at the clock for a second before looking back at his Uncle.

“But, I don’t want to stay here. I want to go back, I wanna raise my kid.” Turner said firmly, his Uncle only shrugged with a somewhat sad expression.

“Everyone dies, kid. That’s just part of life…” Jonah said simply, watching as the clock ticked down. “Fingers crossed…” The seconds flew by until finally hitting zero, there was an intensely sharp pain that emanated from Turner’s side which caused him to almost double over. “Thank god.”

“W-What? Am I dying? Am I dead?” Turner asked in a somewhat panicked voice, Jonah merely smiled and shook his head. “What’s happening?”

“If you were dead you wouldn’t be feeling pain, would you?” The man said, Turner felt somewhat fuzzy as he looked at his Uncle. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll keep your seat warm.” The man reached into his pocket and withdrew his flip lighter, it was silver and depicted a hand of cards with four aces. The man stuffed it into Turner’s jacket pocket and patted him on the back. “Just somethin’ to remember me by. Word of advice? Cut out the smoking if you wanna see your kid grow up… See you on the flip side!”

Before Turner could reply he felt himself yanked upwards, the bar fading away and being replaced by the infinite white void. Turner looked above him with some uncertainty, the pain in his side was pretty much unbearable. The shining light above became brighter and brighter, until finally Turner had to clench his eyes shut….

Doctor Martha Kurtis was jolted from her nap as a loud gasp echoed through the recovery room situated on the second floor of the Equestrian Military Surgical Hospital. The structure, that had been constructed at Fort November just outside Acksyuk was unlike anything Doctor Kurtis had seen in the Griffon Empire… Most of the equipment was dated, and many of the medical procedures were beyond obsolete… At least, compared to the Griffon Empire. It was for that express reason she had insisted that she be allowed to oversee the recovery of her patient in person.

The woman looked towards the bed with the man in question, one Staff Sergeant Paige Wilson Turner. The wounds had been more extensive than she had first believed, the surgery had taken nearly eight hours to complete. The man had been a hair’s breadth from paralysis, and at one point he was clinically dead for a minute before he could be revived. The bullet that had caused the wound had thankfully not hit any bones, otherwise it would’ve likely fragmented… There would’ve been nothing Doctor Kurtis could’ve done then.

The muscled form laying in the hospital bed groaned as he opened his eyes, panting heavily as he put a hand over the location of the wound. As he had requested, he hadn’t been given any form of possibly addictive painkillers. The resulting pain likely accounted for his now audible groans of pain, Doctor Kurtis stood up from her seat and walked towards the bed to check the man over. As she was a POW she was forced to wear her uniform for easy identification, rather than a far more functional doctor’s coat.

The moonlight shining in from the nearby window made it a little difficult to see, as the entire fort was under blackout orders. As the woman stopped beside the man’s bed she could see he was covered in sweat, his hands clenching at the sheets of his hospital bed. Martha sighed quietly, she had seen her fair share of the war’s victims. Her only reason for joining the military was to heal, whether the patient be Equestrian, Griffon… Or human, as the case may have been. She picked up a cloth rag near the side of the bed and reached towards the man’s forehead to wipe away some of the sweat.

As she leaned over the bed with the cloth in hand she saw the man’s eyes snap open, and when he saw the figure standing over him was wearing a Griffon Uniform, he lashed out. In panicked confusion. Before Martha could speak, she felt a large hand shoot up from the bed and weakly try to push her away as the man started to roll to the side.

“N-No!” Turner grunted in pain as he tried desperately to get into a position where he could get out of the bed. Pain lanced up from the wound in his abdomen as he started to push himself up, but Martha quickly and gently pushed him back onto the bed. “G-Get away from me! Get the fuck away!”

“Stop moving, you’re going to rip your stitches!” Martha replied loudly, she looked over her shoulder at the door to the hallway. Turner was still trying to get away from the Griffon officer, the panic in his mind was increasing. Was this a real human? Was this an illusion? What were they doing to him in their hospital? “I need some help in here!”

The door to the room was pushed open as two Minotaurs wearing Equestrian MP uniforms stepped in, a pair of earth pony stallions dressed in white entered as well and went to assist in trying to keep Turner from ripping his stitches. Even the site of the the MPs didn’t help, for all he knew they were illusions too. In a world where magic could do anything like changing apples to oranges nothing was beyond the realm possibility.

“Get me a sedative!” Martha said as she pinned Turner’s shoulder’s to the bed, his skin was drenched in sweat as his fighting gradually began to lose its strength. With no painkillers in his system his groans became less about trying to move and more from the extreme pain radiating through his body. One of the orderlies let go of his leg and moved to a cart in the corner of the room, from within he took a syringe and tossed it to the doctor. “This is going to help you relax…” She quickly injected the needle into his IV, not long after Turner’s attempts at getting up came to an end.

“G-Get… Get away…” Turner said through clenched teeth as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. The orderlies let go and quietly filed out of the room, leaving Martha to check over the bandages on Turner’s abdomen. Thankfully it seemed he hadn’t pulled any of the stitches, but if it happened again the Martha doubted he’d be that lucky.

“Staff Sergeant, I’m Doctor Martha Kurtis…” The woman said as she wiped away some of the sweat, she looked over her shoulder at the MPs. One of them quietly stepped out of the room and closed the door, leaving one of the minotaurs to loom in the darkened corner. “You’re at a base hospital in Fort November. I understand you’re disoriented, but you aren’t in any danger… Are you understanding what I’m saying?”

“N-Need to g-get out of here…” Turner replied, weakly attempting to get up once again. His shoulders didn’t get far off the bed before he fell back, panting heavily as more pain radiated through his body. It seemed he hadn’t caught any of what the Doctor had said, prompting her to sigh and check his pulse on the monitor beside his bed. It was stable, for now. “S-Sam… Need to g-get back to Sam…” The man closed his eyes, it seemed he was still delirious from the anaesthetic, and the fact he refused painkillers probably wasn’t doing him any favors.

Martha stepped back from the bed and looked at the MP in the corner, the minotaur was eyeing her carefully even as she walked away from the bed and sat back down near her desk. The woman looked over the Staff Sergeant’s chart again, his next of kin was listed as Samantha M. Turner. There was a note that she had changed her middle name to ‘Montoya’, which had been her maiden name. Martha sighed as she took a blank sheet of paper from a nearby stack and clicked her ballpoint pen.

Mrs. Turner,

My name is Doctor Martha Kurtis, by the time you receive this you’ll likely already know your husband has been wounded in combat. I wanted to take the time to write this letter in order to assure you that he is in the best of hands. If you are interested in my credentials, I studied graduated from Harvard medical school and did my residency Massachusetts General. I specialize in General Surgery, and recently became certified in Quadrupedal General Surgery as well. I don’t mean to bore you, or boast of my achievements, I only wish to backup my previous statement. Your husband is in excellent care, and he will likely back on his feet within six weeks.

His surgery was somewhat troublesome, but the details of the operation are best left to him to tell you, I do not wish to overstep my bounds. Should you have any further questions, please feel free to right me via the Red Circle.

Respectfully, Dr. Martha Kurtis, MD.

The city of Havarit was far from fully secure, pockets of Partisan forces were still holding out against the Equestrians. However, it was secure enough to move occupation forces in, and POWs out. Most Griffon POWs had been debriefed and were on trucks back towards Acksyuk, from there they’d either be sent back to the Equestrian mainland or held at Fort November until more suitable locations could be constructed. Of course, some of the more high profile POWs were being held in the city hall for additional questioning.

The room chosen for the interrogations was a small office with a large wooden desk at the center, seated on one side in a comfortable leather office chair was Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Clemons. On the other side of the Desk was a blonde woman in a Griffon Uniform and a long black leather jacket. A white armband had been tied off around her arm to indicate that she was a POW being held for further questioning. Her striking blue eyes were narrowed at the Lieutenant Colonel and her well manicured fingers were interlocked. She had the face of a model and well toned muscles, likely a result of the intensive training the Griffon Army received. Her skin was tanned, likely from the summer sun.

“Colonel Whitmore…” Thomas said neutrally as he withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. “You and I have something in common that should be rather obvious, so my questions will not pertain to your military knowledge…” The woman rolled her eyes and sighed as she leaned back in her seat. “There are currently very few humans within Equestria, it was believed up until recently that Equestria was the only state with them. We need to know how many more there are.”

“I don’t recall.” Whitmore replied with a scowl, Thomas exhaled a puff of smoke quietly while maintaining his neutral expression. “Maybe there’s just the three of us?” Thomas quietly reached into a briefcase beside his chair and set a file on the table. Within was a set of photographs of things captured during the Pipeline mission, he slid them one after the other in front of the woman until her eyes seemed drawn to one in particular. “How did you get these? Who gave them to you?”

“Tell me what I want to know, consider it an exchange of information.” The Lieutenant Colonel said while closing the file before Whitmore could get a better look at them, the woman scowled and looked at the floor with an uncertain expression. “You’re from Earth, aren’t you? Where do you hail from? I’m detecting a faint east coast accent.”

“Florida.” Whitemore said flatly, Thomas hummed quietly as he leaned back in his seat. “How about you?” The man raised an eyebrow at her. “Consider it an exchange of information.” She replied in a sarcastic tone.

“Colorado.” Thomas replied before taking a puff on his cigarette and exhaling through his nose. “Look, this can go one of two ways. You tell us what we want to know, you possibly save some lives. Not Equestrian lives, mind you. Human lives.” The man said somewhat coldly, the day’s events had made it hard for him to feel much more than contempt for the woman sitting across from him. Turner was wounded, almost dead, and he was stuck here chatting with some bitch who insisted on making his day that much harder. “Or, you don’t tell us, and we might end up hitting somewhere important to you on accident.”

“As if you’d ever get close enough to hit anything.” Whitmore countered, Thomas took a long drag on his cigarette before extinguishing it in a half full ashtray beside him. Without missing a beat he took another cigarette from his pocket and lit up, the woman coughed and tried to wave some of the smoke away. “Is your new plan to smoke it out of me?”

“Who said the old plan had failed yet?” Thomas replied with a raised eyebrow, Whitmore seemed surprised. “I’m going to get some coffee, do you want anything?” She was even more surprised when the Lieutenant Colonel stood up from his seat and adjusted his uniform. As he did so, she could see him look towards the door to the office and nod. The woman looked over her shoulder as the man walked out the door and closed the door behind him, through the window she could see him and a mare talking in the shadows.

Thomas sighed as he took another inhale on his cigarette and exhaled in the dimly lit hallway, the wisps of smoke wafted through the limited light that barely lit his face and the face of one Princess Luna. Such interrogations weren’t out of Thomas’ purview, before the war his job as an Investigator for the Princesses had seen him carry out similar interrogations. Of course, his nerves hadn’t been as frayed at that point.

“It seems you’re having trouble getting it out of her.” Luna commented, looking through the window at the Griffon Army Officer. “We can’t afford to continue blindly without knowing if there are more human’s among them. If there are, it could account for their technological progress and military success.”

“We’ve only just begun, your highness. Give it time, she’ll break eventually.” Thomas replied as he leaned against the wall and looked at the floor. “The documents we’ve recovered so far seem to suggest a substantial number of human’s populating the Griffon Empire…” Luna sighed and looked through the window at the Colonel who was watching through the window with an uncertain expression. “Quick. Act as if you’re going to do something drastic, she can’t hear us out here.”

“Is this good?” Luna replied, stomping a hoof and pointing sharply through the window, Thomas shook his head and made several gestures as if pleading with the mare over something. “What’s the point of this?”

“Fear. Fear of the unknown is one of the most powerful human emotions out there.” Thomas replied, pointing through the door and making a few more uncertain gestures. “She’ll think you’re out here planning to do something drastic, and I’ll appear as the one trying to save her. She won’t know what’s going to happen, and her fear of the unknown will force her to either confront it or tell us what we want to know. Now, boom your voice really loud, sound intimidating, just enough that she can hear you through the door without being able to understand. Then try to go towards the door.”

“Do you really think this will work!?” Luna replied loudly, the mare’s voice causing the glass in the doorway to rattle somewhat. She began moving towards the door, but Thomas held up his hands and stopped her. Briefly he looked over his shoulder at the Colonel inside the room, his expression appearing to be one of genuine concern. Luna backed away.

“I’ll let you know…” Thomas said quietly as he extinguished his cigarette, after a few seconds he walked back into the office while reaching into his pocket and withdrawing his almost empty pack of cigarettes. Luna’s horn glowed as she used her magic to close the door behind him, slamming it with a heavy thud… Thomas had to admit it was a nice touch. “Sorry, they were out of coffee.” The man took a seat behind the desk and lit his cigarette.

“What was all that shouting out there? Couldn’t all be about coffee.” Whitmore replied with a raised eyebrow, Thomas took a noticeably long drag on his cigarette before exhaling the loud cloud of smoke.

“You have some people very frustrated.” Thomas replied simply, briefly he looked over Whitmore’s shoulder at the door where Princess Luna was standing with an intense expression directed at both him and the Colonel. “They want me to turn you over to the Nocturne Agency, but I convinced them to let me have another crack at you.” Whitmore followed the man’s gaze, then looked back at him. Despite her calm expression Thomas could see her fidgeting in her seat, her eyes occasionally flicking between the file on the table and the man sitting across from her. “So, let’s try again. How many humans are you aware of, your best general estimation? Give me something to take to them.”

“I don’t know… Maybe two thousand? It could be a lot more though.” Whitmore replied, looking back at the window where she could see Princess Luna was still glaring at her and Thomas intensely. The man seemed to avert his eyes from her, and pretended as if he was made somewhat uncomfortable by the eye contact. Whitmore quietly leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “Are they keeping you here against your will?”

“I was drafted…” Thomas replied neutrally, taking a drag on his cigarette. “Why, weren’t you?” Whitmore shook her head, coughing again as the man exhaled more smoke. “You volunteered?”

“Yeah, every human that joined the Griffon Army is a volunteer.” Whitmore replied, Thomas was honestly a little surprised by that. Then again, he didn’t know how many humans were in the Griffon Army. Still, he had to admit he would’ve liked the opportunity to choose whether he went to war or not. However, that just could’ve been something that Whitmore was trying to use to change the subject.

“So around two thousand…? You’re sure, to the best of your knowledge?” Thomas asked, the Colonel nodded. “Anything more you can give me, would really make things easier on us both.” Whitmore sighed and shook her head, prompting Thomas to look somewhat nervously at the door. Of course, it was another act, but it had decent effect. The Colonel seemed to have said everything she knew, but follow up interviews would turn up any inconsistencies in her story.

“Can I see those images again? Please?” Whitmore asked, Thomas nodded and opened the file on the table. The woman flipped through the images until settling on a letter that had been recovered from the Pipeline Pumping Station operation. The original document was crumpled, and there were two red stains at the bottom of the page. “Do you have the Griffon who wrote this as a POW as well?”

“No.” Thomas replied calmly. “Every combatant our forces encountered at the pumping station was killed. Why?” Whitmore remained quiet as she continued reading over the letter over and over again.

As he sat he recalled the initial report, some intelligence indicated that a female human officer was personally involved with the commander of the troops at the Pumping Station. It was for this reason that these images had even been included in the packet at all. Whitmore quietly looked through the rest of the images, searching for more letters, but the rest of the images depicted only official documents.

“I… I would like to leave now, please.” The Colonel said distantly, Thomas nodded quietly and stood up from his seat. He packed up the packet, save for the image of the letter which he left with Colonel Whitmore.

With his briefcase closed the man walked to the door and opened it, gesturing for a pair of unicorn MPs to enter. Wordlessly they led Whitmore out into the hallway, passed Princess Luna before turning down a corner. Luna entered the office and used her magic to gather all the smoke in the air into one small bubble before dispelling it all with a small flourish. Thomas sighed and extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray, wordlessly rubbing his temple.

“I suppose we got what we needed out of her, after all.” Luna mused, Thomas only looked at the floor while quietly rubbing the back of his neck. “I sense there’s something bothering you, Thomas. Do you think she may be lying?”

“That’s always a possibility, but no.” Thomas replied, his expression becoming a bit more reserved. “Just thinking about something is all, do you mind if I head out now?” Luna shook her head, Thomas gave a quick nod of thanks and left the interrogation room with more speed than intended. He made his way through the city hall, passing more doors until finally he reached the exit. The man stepped down onto the steps, walking towards the location where Turner had been wounded hours before.

News had come that the man had survived, barely, thanks to the blood that Thomas had given. For that the Lieutenant Colonel was grateful, but as he stood there looking at the stained pavers below his feet, Thomas felt more alone than he had for some time. Some of the things that Colonel Whitmore had said still rattled in his head, for instance that the humans were volunteers and not drafted. There was more evidence that the Griffons had an all volunteer army, hard as that was to believe. If that was truly the case then the fighting would be more difficult than previously thought… Volunteers generally did so because they believed in a cause, and those with conviction were difficult to break.

That wasn’t what had the Lieutenant Colonel so conflicted, however, no that honor was reserved for the nature of the Griffon Army itself. It was a question as old as the war itself, what was the enemy fighting for? Thomas knew that Turner had his doubts about the entire endeavor, but up until that point he hadn’t shared that uncertainty as deeply as his trusted confidant. Thomas cared deeply for Twilight, he loved her more than anything, and that had been his main reason for fighting as he did…

Even still, if he had a choice between being where he was and being home, he’d pick being home in a heartbeat. He knew for certain Turner would make the same choice, as would many of the other soldiers in their division. The minotaurs were already proving to be difficult, many had gone AWOL or outright deserted when they took the city… They seemed to see the Equestrian Army as a means to an end, a way for them to retake their homeland and nothing else.

Thomas sighed and sat on a bench that was close by, drawing his last cigarette from its pack in his coat. His nervousness was difficult to cope with on his own, as the thought of not committing fully to his position made him fearful for the lives of those under his command. Weary of war, far from home, and alone… Thomas almost wished he was one of those that had decided to leave the army when it marched into the city. It was only in the quiet and lonely moments of his day that he allowed himself to think that, and with Turner in the hospital he was forced to keep his concerns internally where they could eat away at his confidence.

It wasn’t all bad though, as Thomas lit his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke he was reminded that if things kept up as they were going the Equestrians could win the war by Christmas. Of course he didn’t buy that for a second, it had been said so many times it was practically a cliche in its own right. There was still hope he’d be able to see home by Christmas, however… There were rumors that the Army was instituting a new policy to rotate troops home after a certain amount of time. Maybe then, when he was back with his beloved princess, all would make sense to him again.

Thomas turned his eyes skyward, looking at the various twinkling lights that made up the night sky. Their beauty was unmatched, shining like a tapestry weaved around the entire planet. If he had not fallen for Twilight, it was likely that his fancy would’ve been for Princess Luna… That was another thought that he only allowed himself to think when he was alone. With a final sigh, Thomas took a long drag on his cigarette and stood from the bench. There was work to be done, plans to be made, and battles to be won…