A War On Two Fronts

Christmas was just around the corner on the front lines, only around three or four days away as far as most men knew. For Turner, it was a time to think on what had happened over the past ten months or so, he had honestly lost count of how long it had been… Too long, that's for damn sure. The man sat quietly in his foxhole, the snow was once again fluttering down in the morning air, and the distant pinkish hues of the rising sun could still barely be seen through the thickening clouds. Thankfully the ash in the atmosphere had dissipated, and so the falling flakes had only a faint greyish tint.

Turner, after having missed such an important shot, had opted to use one of the captured Griff rifles which he had affixed with a hunting scope that he’d traded a maretonian a few extra candy bars that had shown up in one of his ration kits. The quality control people must’ve been slipping, since getting one extra bar was rare and two were practically unheard of. The man sighed, adjusting his helmet as he watched the steam of his breath wafting away on the wind.

The lines had stabilized since the retreat, and it seemed that now the A.R.E. was there to stop any sort of arcane mischief they would stay that way for the rest of the winter. That was all well and good as far as Turner cared, he only wished that he was stationed somewhere else… The Griff lines were only around thirty or forty yards down range, beyond a clearing that had been made by artillery fire, napalm, and the necessity for firewood. Turner rubbed his hands together quickly, his new thick leather gloves providing a little more warmth than his old pair. In a way getting captured had been good for him, it meant they had to issue him new gear… Better gear, as it turned out.

Of course, as the lines weren’t moving anywhere, it was starting to get rather boring. This was time Turner would’ve spent writing home, but as it turned out, the Civil War back in Equestria had managed to foul up the mail service even worse than before. He didn’t know who was fighting whom, honestly he didn’t care… Though secretly he hoped whomever it was that did come out on top would sue for peace.

His time among the Griff army had taught him a few things about their ‘Enemy’, you could learn a lot about a people by how they treated their captured enemy. While Woodham’s little side chats had been a nuisance, and his accommodations hadn’t been stellar, they at least weren’t complete asshats… More than he could say for some of the Equestrians he served with now. The man looked up briefly out of his hole, shaking some of the snow that had accumulated on his helmet. He had heard a soft crunch, though this time it was coming from behind him so he wasn’t too worried… All the same, he gripped his rifle and peeked up over the edge.

Thomas was crouched as he moved towards the hole, the Lieutenant Colonel had a deep scowl on his face, which seemed to be his go to expression ever since the incident a few months prior. The man came to a stop near the fox hole and took a knee, looking around nervously for a moment before turning his attention to the Gunnery Sergeant.

“Hey, Tom.” Turner said quietly, turning his attention back towards the enemy line. “What’s going on?”

“Still pretty much quiet, had a few shots exchanged a mile south or so, but so far…” Thomas replied in an equally hushed tone, his eyes glued on the trees beyond the clearing that had become ‘No Man’s Land’. “I don’t know, I get a feeling that this is either really good or really bad… Either it’s quiet because they’re not fixing to fight, or because they don’t want us to know that’s what they’re going to do.”

“They’ve been hesitant ever since we got Woodham.” Turner said with a shrug. “Frankly I don’t blame them, I hate fighting in the goddamn snow.” He huffed and reached to his pocket, withdrawing a pack of Griffish Cigarettes and offering one to Thomas. Turner’s attempt to quit had been thwarted when the supply of gum had run dry, but he wasn’t going to light up now… It might give away his position. Thomas took the cigarette and tucked it behind his ear, his scowl lightening slightly. “What about the Princess? Any scuttlebutt?”

“Come on, Gunny…” Thomas said admonishingly, Turner looked at him and narrowed his eyes. Thomas had taken to simply referring to him as ‘Gunny’ over the past few months, Turner still had figured out why. It was accurate, technically, but he didn’t know how to feel. “I’ve been trying to get her to clear some stuff up about Sam and your kid back home… Her lips are locked down tighter than Fort Knox, all I’m getting is the run around.” Turner groaned and looked back towards the enemy tree line. “Nothing on those trains I told you about, she says ‘It’s just some paperwork foul up.’ or some bullshit like that…”

“Well, I better get some goddamn answers soon…” Turner muttered quietly, watching as the sun began to grow lighter in the sky. “I don’t like waiting where my family’s concerned…” Thomas understood what he meant, over the past few weeks Turner had become colder and more distant. He suspected that might’ve been due to the distance from home, his time as a POW, or any number of factors… But his most likely theory was that the war was starting to catch up with his Gunnery Sergeant.

Gunnery Sergeant wasn’t really the right word for Turner anymore, technically accurate, but not the right one. Turner didn’t know it, but Thomas had it on good authority that his exploits and his beliefs were becoming pretty well known through the ranks. There were stories abound of all the cool things ‘Gunny Turner’ had done. Capturing Woodham, jumping on a moving car and stabbing it to death, and many more… Most true, if highly exaggerated.

This had all culminated into the army, at least the enlisted personnel, having its morale tied in with how Turner was doing. He had the power to fire up the troops if they needed to push, all they had to say was ‘The Gunny is pushing up, why aren’t you?’ and it would motivate them to advance. If they needed to hold, the story was ‘Gunny Turner isn’t taking another step back, you gonna leave him by his lonesome?’ or something to that effect. During the winter months morale was key, in some cases more important than bullets or even fuel, and any blow to that morale could be catastrophic.

“I’m sure she’ll let us know soon enough, I don’t think she wants you storming into her office and trying to get the intel yourself…” Thomas said in a dry snarky tone, Turner let out a short laugh of his own. The Lieutenant Colonel shook his head briefly, patting the Gunnery Sergeant on the shoulder with a sigh. “Keep your head cool, okay Gunny? Lot of guys rely on you staying that way.”

“Yes, sir.” Turner replied with a quick nod, he heard Thomas’ boots crunching through the deep snow as he began to move further down the line to talk to the other troops set up a few yards within the treeline. The sun was starting to become harder to see now as clouds began to swirl and the snow began to fall practically in sheets, right on time… Which prompted Turner, and in fact pretty much every soldier on the line, to drop down into the fox holes or trenches, hold their helmets on their heads, and kiss their asses goodbye.

As it did every morning the distant drumming fire of Griffon artillery shattered the morning calm, it would either be High Explosive, Anti-Personnel, or Smoke… The smoke was to make sure they were still hitting the right place, at least, that’s what Turner figured it was for. The other shells were pretty straight forward, so he wasn’t too concerned with threats from over head. This morning, however, it seemed things had changed. Pops, dozens of them, filled the air like so many little firecrackers or bottle rockets. The shells, it seemed, were exploding in an airburst fashion.

“Someone needs to reset the fuses…” Turner muttered, waiting for the innevitable adjustment and coming explosions. Once again, however, no earth shaking blasts or screams of pain. The fluttering of paper caught Turner’s attention, and as he looked up he could see hundreds of red and white pieces of paper fluttering down from above. Griffon Leaflets were always good for a laugh, though they usually were dropped by the odd Griffon fighter brave enough to fly given the Air Superiority the Equestrians still maintained…

Turner reached up and snatched one of the red pieces of paper, noting that it depicted a picture of Celestia with a big crosshair drawn over her. The man giggled as he read over the paper and what it had to say. ‘This is your enemy! She starves your people and leaves them to die! Do not fight for this tyrant!’ The man rolled his eyes, since when did rationing food constitute ‘starving people’. The artwork was cute at least, and he wasn’t sure whether he’d use the paper as kindling for a fire or some other purpose… After all, supplies were scarce.

With the grin still on his face he reached out and grabbed one of the white sheets, which was a bit more prevalent now that he noticed it. As Turner looked at the paper he squinted his eyes, the grin on his face rapidly fading. The words were simple on this one ‘Is this what you’re fighting for?’, but that wasn’t what he had noticed. The shaking in his hands was usually something he attributed to the cold, but this time, this time it was something far different. There, for all to see, was a picture of his wife and child… Starved, and apparently beaten, Sam looked like she had been through the ringer… His daughter’s face, contorted into a screaming wail, and a tired looking human Griffon soldier leading them both with his coat around Sam’s shoulders.

The first thing the man thought was that this image was a fake, but as he looked at the picture it became all the more clear. That was Sam, that was his daughter… A roiling frothing anger began to build within the Gunnery Sergeant, all he could see was the faces of his family and the color red. This had to be the reason that Luna hadn’t told him about what had happened to his family. The man flipped the leaflet over and read what was on the back, a story describing what had happened in all the gruesome details… Turner became aware of a soft ringing in his ears which grow louder and more intense, until finally he simply dropped the leaflet… A gust of wind caught it, carrying it off on the breeze.

Wordlessly, and with a deadly calm, Turner stood up from the floor of his fox hole and climbed out. A few Griff soldiers took a couple shots at him from across the field, but he didn’t flinch even as one round impacted a tree inches from his head. The artillery fire stopped and the leaflets finally finished their descent, the snow and wind carrying them in all directions. There were a few other fox holes that he passed, each had a minotaur or a pony sitting in it reading the pamphlets before looking at the Gunnery Sergeant.

“G-Gunny?” One of the ponies, a unicorn stallion, asked hesitantly. His bluish white fur contrasted against his olive drab uniform and he looked absolutely frozen with uncertainty at what he was reading. “Gunny, i-isn’t this your, um, your wife?” Turner nodded silently, not taking his eyes off the direction he was walking, his jaw set as firmly as steel. The unicorn looked at his fox hole mate before scrambling up to try and keep pace with the Gunnery Sergeant. “Where are you going?”

“To get answers, boy.” Turner growled in a voice so terrifying that the stallion felt compelled to sprint further ahead. It wasn’t out of fear necessarily, at least, not for his own safety. No, his fear was for… Well, whoever got in the Gunny’s way. He ran ahead, just in case someone needed to be warned, but like a predator walking through a forest it seemed that anyone even close to the man’s path could sense the irate typhoon of emotions building within him. He walked over trees, around fox holes, but his destination seemed clear.

Thomas was making his way back to the local HQ when he saw motion in the trees, not uncommon, but still concerning. There were soldiers moving back or out of the way of something, he was still a fair bit away from whatever it was though. He cursed angrily as a piece of white paper smacked into his face, grabbing the offending piece of parchment he prepared to rip it apart. Then, to his horror, he saw what was on the leaflet… Suddenly, the men getting out of the way of something made far more sense, and that something happened to be his good friend…

Turner had been close to the border for some time, between cool and reasonable NCO and a barely controlled force of nature. This leaflet had likely not only sent him over the edge, it probably had him ready to go so ballistic the Griffons would be able to hear him yelling from their lines.

Anyone getting in his way was just as liable to get a busted nose or broken hand, and honestly this had been a storm in the making for some time. Turner had no business still being on a battlefield, at least, not this soon after his return. He should’ve been sent back behind the lines for a time to receive psychiatric evaluation or at least some R&R, Thomas was leaning more towards a full on discharge. Princess Luna, however, had made it clear that the Gunnery Sergeant was key to the morale of the troops, and the lack of experienced NCOs played into the situation as a whole.

Thomas had to admit he was pissed off as well, he had suspected that Luna might’ve known something, but this… How could she hide this? Still, he suspected he was in far more control of his anger than his friend. With this in mind he began running towards the Headquarters with renewed purpose, kicking through the snow and panting with exertion as he tried to catch up with the one man warpath. The soldiers that had gotten out of Turner’s way only pointed to the tracks he had left in the snow, and from there it didn’t take Thomas long to catch up to Turner. The Headquarters was within sight now, a prefabricated structure barely illuminated and guarded by two unicorn MPs.

“Turner… Turner look at me.” Thomas pleaded, but Turner ignored him, his face contorted into a snarl. He was practically glowing with an aura of rage. “Turner, what are you planning to do!?” Again, no reply came, and the two MPs seemed to get more nervous with each second the walking mountain of murder drew closer. “Whatever it is you think this will solve, it’s only going to make things worse!”

“Is it?” Turner asked in a scarily calm voice as he came to a stop just short of the door into the headquarters. “Let’s recap, Tom… We’re thousands of miles of home, cut off, Equestria is in a civil war, the Griffons are shelling the crap out of us, and now… Now my family is suffering at the hand of the very people who sent us here.” The man turned slowly, his eyes narrowed like lasers that made Thomas want to wilt. “If things are going to get worse, I figure they can’t be much worse than this.”

The man turned back towards the two MPs, one of them gulped but stepped in front of the door while looking up at the Gunnery Sergeant. The stories about him gave the guard some serious reservations about what he was about to say, but he couldn’t let himself be intimidated. With a grunt and a slightly cracked voice he spoke as authoritatively as possible.

“I c-can’t let you inside, Sergeant.” He felt like he was going to fall over as Turner looked at him with those same angry eyes, the malice behind them was truly intense… Until, just as he thought he was going to be destroyed, the Gunnery Sergeant reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

“I understand, boy.” Turner said with a neutral tone, looking back at Thomas with a calm expression. The man took a deep breath, and Thomas was surprised to see just how well the man seemed to be handling himself at the moment. That was generally a bad thing, however, as with Turner he almost always seemed to be in control before he blew his top, really blew his top. He had been angry before, and Thomas had seen the remains of that, but this anger was… Different. “Tom… I ain’t askin’, I’m tellin’. I’m gonna talk to her, one way or another… Move, or be moved.”

“Turner, don’t make me order you to-” Thomas began, and that was the last thing that he managed to say before he registered a clenched fist targeted right for his head. He tried to dodge to the left, but wasn’t fast enough. Thomas saw stars as he stumbled back and landed in the snow with a soft thud, Turner stood there panting as the Lieutenant Colonel groaned and righted himself. “What is flying off the handle going to do to help you or your family, Paige?!” He dusted the snow off of his uniform, his eye starting to show a notable bruise.

“I should’ve been there to protect them, damn it!” Turner shouted in response, his calm exterior giving way to one of profound grief and anger. “All this time I’ve been over here fighting their war, all this time Sam spent giving them weapons and buying them time. They tossed her into the snow like an animal, Tom! She’s my wife and they treated her like an animal!” He looked at the two MPs standing near the door before facing Thomas and raising his fists he took up a boxers stance.

“Damn it, you couldn’t protect her, no matter how bad you wanted to!” Thomas shouted, taking up his own defensive stance. “They would’ve taken you no matter what!”

“It was my job, Tom!” Turner yelled at the top of his lungs. “My goddamn job was to protect my family! I failed them, and that bitch inside didn’t even have the decency to let me know!?” He pointed an accusatory finger at the HQ, not taking his eyes off of Thomas. “You know she knew, she always knows…” The man looked at the Lieutenant Colonel, then at the snowy ground beneath his feet. Slowly, hesitantly, he lowered his fists and spoke in barely a whisper. “I failed them… I can’t go on, knowing that…”

“No, brother… You didn’t fail.” Thomas said, lowering his own fists as he walked up to the man and placed his hands on his shoulders. In an act rarely seen in the battlefield Thomas pulled the Gunnery Sergeant closer in a very manly bear hug, patting him on the back a few times before letting go and taking a step back. “You’ve been throwing your heart and soul into this fight for so long you’ve practically burned yourself out… That isn’t failure.”

“I… I can’t do this anymore, Tom. I can’t…” Turner said quietly, looking at the snowy ground, the fiery anger in his eyes had turned to a deep sadness and Thomas was surprised at how well he was managing to stay composed given the circumstances. “I don’t have any more to give… Especially for a country that did that to my family.” The Lieutenant Colonel shook his head somberly and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, his eyes taking in the exhausted expression on Turner’s face.

“You have to, Gunny…” Thomas said firmly. “Princess Luna isn’t like that, you understand that even though you don’t much care for her, but…” He looked into the sky as the coming dawn lit up the overcast clouds. “The men need your help, I need your help…” Turner looked at his friend with an uncertain expression. “Equestria’s in a Civil War now, the only thing holding our troops together is us and the Princess… I know you didn’t sign on for any of this, but keeping these men unified is the only thing we can do to ensure a better future when the dust settles.”

“How?” Turner asked, the cold snow around his boots had started to make him cold, but it was hardly noticeable at the moment. “How do we know that if we win this war it won’t go back to the way things were… I don’t want to go home to a country where this could happen again.”

“And you won’t.” A familiar voice cut in from the direction of the HQ, both men and the MPs turned to see the Princess herself standing in the doorway. She took the first steps out into the snow, her aetherial mane flowing contrary to the direction of the breeze in an odd display of a disregard for natural laws. “We can’t be consumed by our petty differences anymore, Gunnery Sergeant… Now, more than ever, we need unity. We need strength, courage, and honor... More importantly, we need someone who can extole those vital values to our forces.”

“Colonel Clemons is right, you didn’t sign on for this…” The Princess continued, her voice smooth but firm as always. “I promise you that if Equestria does win the Civil War, I will not let it remain the nation it is now… I can’t let that be. My sister, as much as I love her, has lost her way…” The mare looked at the two men and the MPs present with an uncertain expression. “The leaflets are true, for that I am sorry…” She could see the look of anger on Turner’s face starting to return.

“Talk is cheap, Princess…” He said with a notable edge to his voice. “I don’t know what you want from me, I’m not gonna be your poster boy if that’s what you’re asking.” The man quietly unslung his rifle and looked it over, a look of exhaustion passing over his features. Luna was a little uncertain what it was he was planning to do, she could see him clenching the weapon with such a firm grip his knuckles had turned white. “I’m a soldier because I was drafted, and I ain’t bucking for anything more than that…” He looked up, and Luna could see his resolve had become that of steel. “How do you plan to end this shit?”

“Leave that to me…” Luna said calmly, the cold anger she saw in Turner’s eyes indicated to her that any semblance of the peaceful hesitant to kill Sheriff’s Deputy that had entered the war was nearly unrecognizable. She knew how twisted and warped he had become, and she knew that it was her fault. The war had molded him this way, and she had helped it along when needed… She had forged perhaps some of the best NCOs and Officers in the same way, when they went home from the war things would never be the same… But for the good of her people, it was a sacrifice that had to be made.

“For now, I need you on the line, keeping our men together…” Luna added, Thomas looked at Turner with a worried expression. “Thomas, go with him. When I’ve come up with something I’ll speak to you.” Thomas nodded quietly and put another hand on Turner’s shoulder.

“Come on, man…” He said quietly, Turner gave the princess one final angry look before turning and walking away with Thomas. Luna sighed, both in relief and concern, she had likely just come close to seeing her still relatively unified army fall apart. Their dwindling numbers and nearly non-existent supply lines were bad enough, but if Turner had flown off the handle completely word would spread rapidly. She had no doubt that there were more cases of desertion on the horizon, but not nearly as many that would’ve come from such a breakdown of the military’s currently highest decorated NCO. For now, she would need to bide her time and hope beyond hope that when all was said and done somehow her army didn’t fall apart at the seams.

Sam had become hesitantly familiar with the smell of hospitals, whether they were dingy field clinics as her home had become during the battle for Silver Lake or elaborate sterile virtual temples of medicine like those in Canterlot, almost all had a distinctive smell about them that let her know exactly what they were. As the woman sat quietly in her room aboard the GNV Sanctuary, however, she was surprised to find that was not the case for hospital ships. She looked out the nearby window at the ocean below, her arms cradling her child, quietly sleeping bundled in fresh cotton linens.

The feeling of warm air against her skin was something she savored every second of, and the soft hum of the engines was calming in its own right. Her encounters with the Griffon Army were far different from those she had endured in the past, her first time meeting them she had nearly been gunned down… Now, however, she thanked God for sending their troops when he did. The ordeal of surviving in a town of ponies who had rapidly become violent towards humans as a whole was still fresh in her mind, but not as fresh as the betrayal she felt at Equestria as a whole.

Where Sam had been essentially reduced to wearing rags before, now she wore freshly cleaned clothing. They were admittedly a little on the drab side, but that was to be expected from a hospital ship. She had nearly starved herself, only eating enough so that she could keep Paige fed, but here on this ship… Well, she could give her daughter the proper care that she needed, and fill her own stomach as well. Sam had been furious when told by the doctors that she couldn’t eat as ravenously as she wanted to, but when they explained that her body needed time to get used to that amount of food again it drove home what she had already started to believe. The Griffons wanted to help her, and not just because she was a human, she had seen them taking care of ponies in much the same way.

It was that care that ultimately made her decide to leave the occupied portions of Equestria as a whole and seek shelter in the Griffon Empire. Sam had tortured herself over the decision, knowing that if she did so it was likely that her husband would have trouble finding her after the war ended, but she knew he would understand… Their daughter had to come first. The woman was shaken from her thoughts by a slight knock on the door.

“Come in…” Sam said, looking towards the doorway of the drab white room. It was, like most things in a hospital, spartanly decorated with the exception of a couple picture frames on the wall. The door opened and a familiar looking man stepped into view, his hair was starting to grey and he had a scruffy salt and pepper beard to compliment his pale skin and almost cherub like features. Adorned in a white doctor’s coat over his otherwise plain outfit, he stepped into the room and adjusted the pair of round brass rimmed spectacles perched upon his notably Roman nose.

“Misses Turner, how are you doing today?” Doctor John Striker asked with his usual jovial tone while closing the door behind him. Sam noted his rotund belly was a little thinner than when she had last seen him, likely a result of the rationing aboard the ship. The crew had apparently opted to limit their own rations in order to take on more wounded when they had first entered Equestria, something that was still in practice it seemed as it was beginning to show.

“I’m doing well, thank you…” Sam replied with a soft smile before looking down at Paige and kissing her on the forehead. Doctor Striker walked across the room and sat on one of the seats near the window as Sam had done. “Is it that time already?” Striker nodded as he put on his stethoscope, which had been in its usual place draped around his neck.

“Well, a little early, actually…” Striker admitted as Sam quietly undid a bit of the bundle, allowing Paige to look at the large man and let out an excited giggle. “We’ve had an outbreak of pneumonia in the lower decks and I wanted to come check on our infant patients personally, pony and human alike.” He rubbed the end of the stethoscope on Sam’s sleeve as he usually did, taking the chill out of it before placing it on Paige’s chest. “Hmm…” he said with a hum of curiosity, after a few moments of listening to the baby’s breathing he withdrew the stethoscope and put it back around his neck. “She’s fine, no infection as far as I can tell, but make sure you wash your hands often.”

“I will, thank you…” Sam said with a warm smile as she bundled Paige back up and hugged her gently. Striker looked at the woman for a few moments before clearing his throat again. Evidently he had noticed the bags under her eyes, or maybe the bloodshot look to them… She had played it off in the past as just waking up to take care of Paige, but now the baby was being cared for by nursing staff at night, precisely so Sam could get her own rest.. “Yes?”

“You haven’t been sleeping.” It wasn’t a question, and Striker’s concerned tone made Sam feel slightly guilty. He was right, as usual, Sam hadn’t been sleeping. Every night she was plagued by the nightmares that, up until her rescue, had remained locked away by a need to remain alert and sleep with ‘one eye open’. Now that she wasn’t forced to keep an eye on her surroundings the nightmares had become far more present in her mind. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal, and if you want your weight coming back to normal you need to get proper sleep.”

“I understand, Doc…” Sam replied quietly, looking out the window again. “It’s the nightmares again.” That was all she had to say, a look of sadness crossed the almost permanently happy features of her doctor. “This time it was the one with the aid station…” The Doctor put a gentle hand on her shoulder as Sam shuddered from the memory. The nightmares were recurring, and the one in question was particularly gruesome. The ‘Aid Station’ nightmare was perhaps the worst one she had faced, as it was set in her own home.

In the dream Sam had been standing in her living room during the battle of Silver Lake, wounded constantly streaming in through the door and ending up on her dining room table, the blood and gore was seemingly everywhere while Sam did her best to help as many as she could… It wasn’t enough, it was never enough… But the real horror began when a stretcher would come in, and this time rather than a pony she saw her own husband laying there. His limbs often were mangled, his chest riddled with bullet holes, and his eyes covered by bandages. No matter how hard she worked she could never help him, and when he finally would slip away it would be with him crying out for her, never realizing that it was her standing over him the entire time.

“Miss Turner?” The Doctor’s voice called her back from her thoughts and she became acutely aware that tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Miss Turner, I’m going to schedule an appointment with one of the counselors aboard for you. You won’t have to worry about finding their office, they’ll come to you.” Sam wanted to protest, but despite the easy going look of the doctor she could see that on this subject there would be no argument. “You need help dealing with these feelings that I’m not qualified to give…”

Sam looked at him briefly, her mind snapping back to a time after Turner had killed a stallion as a Sheriff’s Deputy. She had given him much of the same advice, and of course it had worked wonders… Of course, that was when she could afford to send him to the best doctor in the country. Still, any help would be better than none at all. Sam gave a slight nod, which was enough for Doctor Striker to stand up and offer her a tissue from a nearby box. Sam wiped her eyes.

“Do you want me to wait here until they arrive or will you be okay on your own?” He asked, Sam paused contemplatively for a moment or so before shaking her head.

“No, it’s okay… I can wait on my own.” Sam said simply, Striker nodded and walked to the doorway. He briefly adjusted his glasses for a moment as if he was going to say something more, but in the end he only gave a slight wave and stepped out into the hallway. Sam could hear him say a few hushed words to someone outside before his footsteps faded, and the woman could see the familiar plumage of one of the Griffon Orderlies attempting to keep out of sight in the hallway. Sam sighed and leaned back in her seat, her eyelids feeling rather heavy. With a noted sigh she stood up and walked to the small cradle that had been set up beside her crisp, neatly made bed. “It’s going to be okay, honey… Don’t you worry.”

Sam set Paige in the cradle, the infant had softly started to snore and thankfully remained asleep once put down. Sam walked back to her seat by the window and leaned her head against the bulkhead, the faint ocean below was moving at a relaxing pace, and before too long she felt her eyelids begin to droop.

“It’s happening again…” She said aloud, sighing as she thought about what was to come. Her first days in Equestria had been difficult to say the least. She hadn’t know what to do, and how to cope with never going home again, but somehow she had managed to carve out a comfortable existence. It had only been made better when Turner had entered her life, and she had hoped that Paige would be the crowning achievement of her life. Now, as the aforementioned infant peacefully slept, Sam found herself staring down the barrel of starting over again… Again.

Her only solace in all that despair was that Paige was still far too young to remember any of the hellish ordeal, for her growing up in the Griffon Empire would be a normal life, she wouldn’t have to deal with the upheaval or the sense of loss as so many others would be forced to do. Sam had no idea if Turner was even still alive, but the thought had become more present in her mind as time went on. There were rumors and stories aplenty, but the woman wouldn’t be satisfied until either a letter from her husband or a letter informing her of his death was sitting firmly in her hands. Until that day came she would hold out hope, it was really the only thing left that she could cling to.

With that, Sam closed her eyes and fell asleep, for a time at least. The nightmare that rushed to greet her was thankfully not as bad as some of the others, though in the grand scheme of things all of them were some of the worst things she’d ever experienced.

In the dream she was sitting on her back porch back in Silver Lake, looking out over the farmland and basking in the sunlight as insects chirped and buzzed in the lazy summer breeze. Then, a faint sickeningly sweet smell entered her nostrils, and the buzzing insects grew louder… Millions of flies swarmed from above and all around, the clear sky became choked with the foul creatures and dark grey clouds.

As the dream continued Sam looked from her seat on the porch at the field, to her horror it was filled with corpses. Griffon and Equestrian alike, all of them rotting while vultures circled overhead. Then, one of the grotesque rotting figures jerked… Then another, and another, as they staggered upright and turned to face her. They were reaching out for her, their vacant eyes somehow filled with malice, all of them rasping out her name. She couldn’t move as they drew closer, swarming her from all sides. Only at the end could she kick and fight, but it was no use…

“Samantha!” A sudden jolt shook the woman from her sleep, and she became vaguely aware that she was back in her room on the hospital ship. A female griffon was looking at her with notable concern, and the woman became acutely aware that she was practically soaked with sweat. “Are you alright?” The griffon said in a more questioning tone, her light grey feathers and piercing blue eyes had caught Sam off guard.

“Y-Yeah…” Sam replied shakily, looking at the griffon with an uncertain expression. “I’m sorry, who are you?” The woman looked quickly over to the cradle where Paige lay, thankfully still asleep despite the apparent disturbance.

“I’m Taube, the ship’s counselor. Doctor Striker sent me.” The griffon replied in her same gentle tone, she moved to the other seat that looked out the window below. “He says you haven’t been sleeping, I can certainly see why.” Sam brushed a bit of her hair out of her eyes, the once jet black strands were marred with many strands of grey that hadn’t been there less than a year ago. “I understand the military is transporting your belongings aboard, is there anything you’d like me to get? For obvious reasons I can’t bring you any of the firearms…”

“No, thank you… Aside from them and the truck there’s really nothing left.” Sam replied distantly, looking at the ocean below and sighing to herself. “I used to wish to go flying, my husband developed the first ultralight in Equestria.” She wiped her eyes, and Taube could see the woman’s tired and sad eyes look to the floor. “I helped develop planes for the military, but I never learned to fly… I never wanted to do that, you know? I just thought that if I did something it would help keep my husband alive.” She rested her hand against the chilly glass of the window. “Before all this I never dreamed of allowing my factories to make something that could be used to kill in such a fashion, and now…?”

Taube took a deep breath as she examined the woman, she had known plenty of Griffons that had been killed or wounded by the Equestrian flying machines. The griffon had never known where they really came from, but as she looked at the still remarkably skinny and frail woman in front of her she couldn’t bring herself to be mad. The war had forced everyone to do things they never dreamed of. Sam closed her eyes and withdrew her hand from the window, exhaling slowly.

“I don’t know how to deal with myself after that…” Sam said in almost a whisper, Taube looked at the nearby clock on the wall. This was likely going to take a while, not that she minded, but it wouldn’t be an easy task for sure.