July 11th, 1011
0015 hours
CNS Chrysalis Briefing Room
1st Queen’s Guard Squadron
Near Queen’s Island, Changeling Queendom

“Close the hatch.”

The order was obeyed by the Guardsling, sealing it and standing by with the glowing M39/2 Gewehr cradled in his hooves. With the briefing room now finally secure, Hivemarschall Trimmel Eugen Heydrich Zu Gardis allowed himself to relax at last. He was not technically their commander, though his position as Marschall of the Heer left him in charge of all military assets. He’d used it better than any other before too, as previous generals had been so limited in scope as to owe their loyalty to a single hive. Trimmel had moved past such pleasantries and seized the power Queen Chrysalis had granted him, with the vision of an operational doctrine unparalleled by any, having demonstrated its superiority and efficiency during the invasion of Olenia. Before, it had merely been thought and theory. Now, they called the Olenian Campaign the “Lightning War.”

The Briefing Room was set just as he had prepared for the queen and her other top-ranking commanders - to gather one last time to review the invasion plans. It shouldn’t be long now before the queen herself would arrive, and the final order would be set in motion. Trimmel could not help but be excited at the prospect of, at last, executing the schemes so meticulously designed by his more conniving brothers in arms.

These consisted of Vaspier, The Great Imperial Nobody, leader of the VOPS and almost his direct counterpart was Hermis Thysbe, the tactical genius. Constantly engaged in their bid to impress their queen would often put them at odds with each other, despite being ordered to work past their differences and obedient as any of her most favoured officers, the combination of their mastery in tactics and strategies led to brilliant results which were also observed in the invasion of Olenia. Trimmel was almost envious of their skill but he was already the Queen’s favourite, and he knew it. He just needed to continue achieving victories, and his position at her right hoof was assured, both figuratively and literally.

As he slid into his seat at the side of his Queen’s own, barely suppressing a smirk, the leader of her protection detachment Dieter Heinrich himself took his seat as well, followed by Opteris, his closest confidant. Having been summoned by the other commanders to convene on the Flagship, by far out of all his brothers and sisters in arms the only one Trimmel actually feared due to his silent and imposing demeanour, a changeling of few words and decisive action. The perfect individual to lead the bodyguards of Her Royal Majesty.

As if acknowledging his arrival, the Hive Marshal nodded to the Leader of the Queen’s guard who responded in kind. The two had a tense if amiable working relationship, as their duties had intertwined in the last few years. Technically, Trimmel outranked Heinrich, but in practice the Captain of the Queen’s Guard was as much political as military, and there Trimmel dared not try his luck. The Queen’s Guard had been granted a massive expansion in terms of their ranks and equipment, such as their own fleet, armored battalions and air wings. They were, in essence, an army inside an army. The Will of Queen Chrysalis herself. The fact that Dietrich even agreed to Trimmel’s suggestions meant he was interested in at least preserving the peace. Opposing each other would only lead to massive bloodshed on both sides.

In short succession the rest of the summoned commanders moved to the table, taking their seats quickly as the low buzz of conversation began to taper off. Vaspier in his humble uniform, a stark contrast to Thysbe’s flamboyant garments and flashy monocle, an odd atmosphere of envy, respect and competition thickening the air between them, the two eyeing one another as if scouting for weaknesses to be exploited. Trimmel snorted wordlessly, and the two commanders glanced his way, seeing the evident displeasure on his face. If there was ever a time they could not be weakened by infighting, it was now.

Also seated here was Pharynx, the prodigy that had worked with Trimmel on armored and motorized formation warfare. It had been his suggestion to group panzers into dedicated panzer companies like hunting parties, rather than spread them out to support infantry formations. Ever since, Pharynx had attended every exercise he could, watching with rapt attention as they worked through their experiments and trials, until he was almost as capable as Trimmel himself. With him was the stoic and soft-spoken Lactro Mactans, commander of the elite Jaeger battalions, sharpshooters and urban assault specialists. Loyal to Trimmel, he and Pharynx were the counterpoint to Heinrich and Opteris. At the far end of the table, not given to the factionalism on show, was Actis Pagala, responsible for training and soldier curriculum. She wanted nothing to do with the contest between the Heer and the Queen’s Guard, and had made it a point of stating so. On either side of her was Field Marshal Sinovial and General Thranx, returned from the attaché overseas testing panzer technology and tactics in the Empire. Their time in Griffonia had separated them from the politics in the Queen’s inner circle, and while Sinovial sat back and plotted as he would, Thranx simply looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Two commanders exemplified the most contentious part of this scheming; General Epargy Clarus and his immediate second, newly promoted General Caroline Phymata. A genius combined arms and fire support, it had been Clarus’ idea to break from the old and well established doctrine from the airship age, spiting both Griffonian theory of strategic destruction and Equestrion ideals of tactical bombings and aerial groups, instead advising Trimmel to shift priority to better support his combined arms warfare. The implementation of forward radiolings was Clarus’ masterpiece, providing such accurate and quick coordinates to nearby aircraft to bring such swift and overwhelming support to changeling tanks during the Olenia campaign that soldiers could almost radio the planes onto bunkers and trenchlines just ahead of them, equally as responsible for Trimmel’s revolutionary strategic overhaul of the changeling military as the fast attack tank groups Pharynx had formulated. This experience noted a complete shift in Luftwaffe tactics and training. From the new crop of potentials, Clarus had his pick for immediate successor; Phymata had been a promising motorized commander who had shown great promise over the Olenia campaign, granting her a quick promotion to general and at Clarus’ side. But these two were fickle, easily willing to back Trimmel as they were to side with Heinrich and Vaspier.

The Luftwaffe were contentious observers. By far the newest of the three branches, for a long time they had been part of each hive’s army forces. But Equestria’s disruption of established doctrine in 1005 had put the airship out of relevance. Sure, they were useful for securing hives, but a Veppelin was easy pickings for today’s aircraft. After Chrysalis had ordered the wholescale adoption of Imperial Herzland concepts and terminology, this had all changed. The three changelings sitting in a small cluster in different uniforms were an odd bunch. Not quite the warrior type, they had all come from backgrounds in flight, aircraft or meteorology. General Apantesis was the most military of the three, having actually come from the old Lyctida airship corps as a commander. Mantis had worked as a pilot for Fargus Vraksis Aeronatics, and it was thanks to him and his expertise in aircraft technology and corporate structure that they had managed to avoid a long and painful process to get the advanced and modern Luftwaffe they had now, avoiding corporate pitfalls and redundant testing. But Luftmarschall Ceryonis, commander of the Luftwaffe, for all his aggressive bluster and rank, had been a weather scout before, a changeling who flew into storms in enchanted armor to gather information and make predictions. While he was the most aggressive, he was technically an intellectual amongst intellectuals, as many Luftwaffe pilots were. Instead of looking for aggression and skill at arms, Mantis’ suggestion of panning university students and technical experts had paid dividends in the end, resulting in a technologically advanced air arm. The only issue Trimmel had with the Luftwaffe was that as loyal as he knew them to be to the Heer and the Queen, their association with the military-industrial complex and the Queen’s Guard controlled scientists meant he didn’t trust them. Trimmel couldn’t prove it, and he’d be damned if he’d go to Vaspier to investigate, but he knew the Luftwaffe was playing favorites with Vespidae, United Wing Association and Svarm Aircraft. That made them susceptible, and he knew Dietrich didn’t count on the Luftwaffe for anything either.

Present but not quite observed were Admirals Lysander and Mimic. The Armada occupied an interesting place in the Imperial military; while every unit in the Heer could trace itself back to one hive or another, the Armada was specifically the domain of Ditrysium hive. Such regionalism as gripped the Heer had no place in a navy, but this left the traditional Lysander and the eclectic Mimic as outsiders in a room full of scheming associates. For the most part, the admirals were just fine with that, refusing to play politics outside of honoring the queen. The only reason they were part of this inner circle was because of the vital necessity of their stations.

“She is here,” the Guardsling at the hatch states plainly. His words were not yelled, but even at their soft level it put a hush to any further quiet bickering or conversation, all eyes turned towards the hatch expectantly, waiting with equal parts eagerness, trepidation and fear. Some had more parts than others.

Finally, after what felt like an interminably long time, a dull thump sounded against the hatch, followed by two more. The Guardsling pushed forward, unsealing the hatch and standing aside, coming to the stiffest attention and hollering “Her Royal Highness; High Queen Chrysalis!”

All hives possessed a queen, a female leader who grew larger and far more powerful than the other members of the hive, who had an innate magnetism to them that other changelings instinctively responded to and superior shapeshifting powers. But even among the queens, High Queen Chrysalis was among the tallest ever hatched. She was dressed in a white dress uniform lined with gold and sporting black crowns at her lapels, a stark and regal contrast to the other changelings who wore grey, black or blue. She dominated the room with her very presence, both thanks to her natural magnetism and her station, head held high as she examined the chamber with sea green eyes. The closest comparison to her shape and status would be an alicorn, though she was of course above those feeble princesses. Her blue mane, once ratty and unkept, was now lustrous and styled, falling in gentle waves around her face, her carapace shining in the low light of the chamber. And she was smiling. Pleased. A good sign.

The assembled commanders immediately stood, bowing low to the carpet, their horns all an inch away from connecting with the deck. They held this pose until Chrysalis crossed, unhurried, to her highbacked chair, inspecting it briefly before taking her seat, resplendent as she sat up, examining the generals kowtowing before her. Her bodyguards, members of the Queen’s Guard wearing their pitch black uniforms, gas masks and goggles, took up position on either side, the protection detail of a dozen more storming in, checking the corners and sweeping for bugs and observers, gossamer wings twitching in agitation, M39/2s raised and at the ready. Finally, they stood to ready positions around the chamber, weapons held across the chest, prepared to act in an instant. One of her Guardslings leaned in and whispered something to the queen, who nodded.

“You may rise,” she finally declared, and as one her inner circle did just that, returning to their seats in absolute silence. She waited for them to take their seats, the faintest hint of a barely concealed smirk present on her lips. Yes, she was in a very good mood tonight.

“So, we are here,” she said after the commanders had all sat. “Alicorn Sunset. Years of planning, preparation and buildup. What a marvelous time. Much of our future hangs in the balance of this plan. So let us review our status before we proceed.”

This was the most important moment in these briefings with the queen. Whoever spoke first would get her undivided attention. Then, as so often happened in military briefings that dragged on, she tended to become less interested in the minute details. Trimmel normally stepped in to handle those, but he knew that getting the highlights out first would be crucial. But they couldn’t be seen to have rushed to speak. That would make them look desperate.

So, Trimmel stayed silent as Vaspier stood, giving a short bow before proceeding.

“VOPS operatives embedded in crucial places will begin their strikes in the next two hours unless we send the termination signal, Your Highness. We have targeted mustering points and airbases in Canterlot, Phillydelphia, Manehattan, Mariposa, Vanhoover, Baltimare, Crystal City and a few others besides.”

“Not Acornage itself?” Chrysalis asked airily, as if she hadn’t been briefed on this operation by Trimmel personally, listening to changes and giving her input and orders from on high.

“No, Your Highness. The Equestrian defense line is incomplete and poorly manned. From what we can tell, most of the garrison are National Guard and Reservist units, with some air wings in support. The core of the professional forces are held further East, closer to Ponyville and Canterlot. Royal Guard units are exclusively stationed in key major cities like Canterlot, Los Pegasus, Ponyville, Manehattan and Crystal City. We want to keep them there as long as possible, so we have avoided stirring up trouble in the west.”

Chrysalis nodded in approval, gesturing for Vaspier to continue, which he eagerly did with aplomb, shooting a smug look at a very annoyed Thysbe.

“King Sombra has worked his way north with his infiltration company. Jaegers are standing by to sabotage communications on the Sneig Line. The confusion will make it easier for him to work. We’ll be hearing more from them at a later time.”

“What are our chances of catching the Prince-Consort?” Chrysalis queried, intelty focusing on Vaspier’s face, her eyes emitting a short glow. The VOPS commander grimaced before swallowing and schooling his features. Thysbe smirked in revenge, knowing Vaspier would see how the tables had turned for his rival.

“Very small, Your Highness. Prince-Consort Shining Armor is constantly surrounded by his Royal Guard. Hoofpicked bodyguards, associates he knows personally. He won’t fall for our usual embedding tactics.”

“I see…” Chrysalis drawled, clearly disappointed. “Another time, then.”

Vaspier, clearly glad to be finished, hurriedly bowed and retook his seat, his previous confidence erased. Trimmel decided this would be the time to save him, and nodded at Pharynx, who stood and bowed.

“Your Highness, we have seventy divisions in position to storm the border, with a hundred more at secondary staging points. The attack will stretch from the Crystal Empire to Seaddle.”

Pharynx’s voice was gruff, to the point. He’d never liked debating small issues, much like Chrysalis herself. This endeared the young commander to the queen, and with her favor and Trimmel’s tutelage combined with a natural aptitude for combat and a powerful shapeshifting ability, he had risen swiftly up the ranks. But his impatience was a flaw Trimmel had tried to temper out, to little avail thus far. Given his seniority, Thysbe should rightfully have been the one to define the operation, as he was not only higher ranking than the younger Pharynx, but he had also worked with Trimmel extensively on its planning and execution. But Thysbe understood that right now, Pharynx was the rising star. It was time to show off their protege, their newest little brother.

“Sixteen of those are dedicated armored divisions, stationed in key areas to affect maximum breakthrough. Once through enemy fortifications, they’ll sweep around to eliminate crucial areas such as supply yards, communications, command posts, repair yards, airfields and so on. We have them placed so that if any of the infantry or motorized divisions meets heavy resistance, at least two armored units can be routed to pincer the target at any time. Our goal is to outmass and outnumber Equestrian armor by a factor of three-to-one in the majority of engagements. Reserve divisions are waiting for the initial breach and the line extending to move into positions. We’ve received a good amount of reinforcements from the Olenian Protectorate...less from the Northern one.”

“What is our first target, General?” Chrysalis purred, clearly favoring Pharynx’s commentary. As if reading it straight off a piece of paper, he immediately began rattling off “Acornage must fall first. It is a place of hardened resistance where the border force will focus on using. The structures can be turned into bunkers and the layout gives them roads to bring in reinforcements and supplies. Once Acornage falls, we can turn the city to our own use, and Jagers can use it to secure the countryside.”

Trimmel glanced to Mactans, who nodded back coolly, his own expression sculpted from marble. Ever the consummate professional, Mactans would turn Acornage into his forward base of operations for his troops, sweeping the countryside to link with the embedded infiltrators.

“After that, Vanhoover. The garrison there is deployed to the fringes of the city. If we can overtake them there, we can sweep the urban areas in less than a week. We move on from there to Tall Tale and Mariposa. Those will have to be taken before Luna can dispatch troops to hold their fallback fortifications. If we can seize those quickly, we can build a firm position on the northwest. Our estimates predict Sombra will likely have picked up enough turncoat divisions to take over the front in the Crystal Empire, but we’ll have to wait and see.”

Trimmel smirked to himself. Pharynx had come a long way under his tutelage. Now with both he and Trimmel himself gaining the queen’s favor, they just had to focus on the war.

And so the meeting went on. For the next half hour, Alicorn Sunset was carefully laid out. Trimmel was surprised by how long the queen retained her focus, latching on to each commander in sequence and asking follow up questions. Even if she knew the answers already, her goal was clearly to test her generals, make sure they were ready. Cercyonis’ air groups were coordinated, ensuring swift aerial superiority, the Armada would strike from Hjortland and engage the Lunar Fleet while Mimic’s cruiser subs delayed the Celestial Fleet and sunk shipping. Olenian volunteers were being gathered to storm the fortifications, and polar bear shock battalions dispatched to the Crystal Empire. This operation clearly was critical to Chrysalis, and the longer the briefing went on, the more intense the glow in her eyes.

Finally, Chrysalis held up a hoof, halting Sinovial in the middle of a talk about what he had learned from the Reichsarmee and how it could be applied to the campaign. Some eyes had begun to wander as the meeting had lengthened, but in the sudden silence all attention was fixed back on the queen. The battleship’s ambient noise was deafening as everyling held their breaths.

“We are prepared,” Chrysalis announced, glancing over her shoulder at the chamber’s clock. “In a short time, we will be at war. I want you all to issue what orders you need to start over radio as soon as you leave this room. Then board planes and return to your posts as soon as creaturely possible.” She slowly scanned the room, looking each commander in the eye, holding their gaze one after another. “We have the best trained, best equipped and most numerous army in Equus.” Here, she looked to Actis, who both blushed and nodded firmly in affirmation, clearly taken by the brief attention her queen showed. Chrysalis smiled back before she returned to her oratory. “Our theories and designs are proven by experienced advisors. We have the initiative, and we have the motivation. Today will be the day history records as the day we stepped forward into revenge.” She raised a hoof, declaring “I hereby proclaim the Age of Pax Chrysalia! Let us sound a war that will not end until our glory stretches across the continent! We will forge an empire to last an eternity, and it will start in Canterlot’s ashes!”

So taken by her sudden speech, the other commanders, Trimmel included, threw their own hooves in the air, proclaiming “PAX CHRYSALIA!”

From their tone, Trimmel could tell their eagerness was honest. His certainly was.

“You have your orders!” his queen declared, standing as her Guardsmen quickly formed up around her. “Do NOT fail me. Now go! And we do not stop until we reach the Celestial Sea!”

[/hr]

0207 hours
Wild Lands, northwest of Acornage
8th Motor-Infanterie Divisione
Plan “Alicorn Sunset”

The time had come. And he was afraid.

According to international law and the stipulations of the Treaty of Canterlot, they weren’t supposed to be this close to Equestria. The Wild Lands garrison had strict limits placed on its size and allotted equipment, which had been subtly defied for the past few years. But all subtlety had gone out the door when they had moved a massive amount of divisions to the borderlands. While the ponies themselves were stupid, their precious Princess Luna was not. The forces assembled before them were lacking in terms of training and equipment, not even full-time professionals from the briefings they had received. But they did still oppose them.

Lars Zarek held his weapon close, clutching the rifle for dear life as the Open Blitz truck rumbled and shook. They had marshalled from their staging ground swiftly, told they were going to make history by their captain. Then they had piled into their vehicles, escorted by armored cars and backed by panzers. A short race across the countryside and here they were. And he shook, not just from the bucking of the truck over the rough dirt road, but from the fear in his carapace. But Queen Chrysalis’ speeches had always said this was not a time for fear. This was a time for action, and revenge. He loved listening to her speeches on the radio. She had been what gave him comfort after he received his conscription notice, leaving his construction job to take up arms for the Queendom. So he swallowed his fear as best he could, going through the steps as his gossamer wings fluttered in the wind pelting them. He checked his Gewehr 7, made sure it was loaded. He touched the bayonet at his belt, found his ammunition pouch full of reloads, his canteen. All present. Just for good luck, he touched his helmet. Across the truck from him, Private Nera, a squadmate rifleling of his, smiled in assurance, knowing better than to try and talk while all this noise was happening. But everyling’s nerves were hot right now. They dealt with it in different ways, whether through prayer, checking equipment as Zarek had done or working themselves into a fury. But this first action would see some of them dead, and they knew it.

He could hear the artillery already. Guns in the distance thundered, shells whistling overhead before detonating on the far side of the river, a constant drumroll that seemed to have no pause. Nebelwerfers screamed, rockets streaming by and lighting up the sky. He couldn’t see the tactical bombers in the cloudy night sky, but the terrifying screech of the Vs.87 Stukas diving on their targets, cannons thumping before dropping their bombs with frightening accuracy, could all be heard over the din. Return fire arced in, far less frequently but with startling accuracy. The truck swerved around the wreck of a Panzer II, alight and burning, it's crew bailing out. Ahead, a pair of Wespe gun carriages fired on targets across the River too distant for Zarek to see, already surrounded by a small mountain of spent shells. Anti-aircraft fire poured out of Acornage, filling the sky with flak tracers. Now, with the light from explosions, he -could- see the bombers, at least a dozen and probably more raining bombs down on the city.

The Blitz swerved to a halt, just short of the river. Behind and around them, more trucks pulled away from the road, slewing to stop and offload their precious cargo. Some, like Zarek’s were open-topped to let the troops shoot back (as if they’d hit anything) whilst others had their canvas flaps thrown back. A stream of changelings in grey uniforms poured out, weapons held close as they moved forward. Shots popped and chattered from a multi-story brick building across the river, slapping down several black carapaced soldiers. A changeling with an MG42 deployed her bipod, the loader immediately picking up the belt as she sent a stream of return fire at the building, sounding more like someone ripping canvas in quick succession than individual gunshots. Mortars began popping nearby, and in the city more explosions thumped dully.

“Soldiers of the Queendom!” called out Zarek’s lieutenant, addressing the platoon sheltering behind the trucks. “You have the honor to execute your queen’s will! First squad, advance on the bridge and provide supporting fire from the head! Second squad, prepare to advance over to the other bank behind the armor! Third and fourth squads, I need you to fly over and assault that structure!” The lieutenant waved as the sergeants immediately began bellowing orders, giving assignments to individual soldiers. “Forwards! The history books will write about this day!”

Zarek gulped nervously. He was in fourth squad, and now he’d just been handed the most dangerous assignment there was for a changeling soldier; exposing oneself by flying in the open while automatic weapons fired around you. No matter how fast a changeling, pony or griffon was, a bullet was always faster. The only virtue would be they’d be moving so fast, they’d be difficult targets. Hopefully.

They hunkered down, watching as the first elements rolled in. Panzer IIIs took lead, machine gun rounds raining onto their armored hides and whining away, mortars popping dully on their plates as the tanks moved over the bridge. One fired its cannon, and a cloud of debris appeared on an apartment building. Behind them came the halftracks, their armored walls sheltering the infantry huddling inside. Behind -them- went second squad, almost hugging the ground as they advanced, weapons slung at the flank-ready so they could move on all fours.

“First squad, open fire!” came a shout, and from around the friendly bridgehead changelings rose and leveled their weapons, Gewehrs popping as fast as their users could crank the bolt, MP10s chattering in bursts. Another MG42 position, properly deployed now, added the blistering tearing noise of its fire, green tracers sending a shower of rounds towards the same apartment building.

“Fourth squad!” yelled Sergeant Rakowitz, waving a hoof as he held his MP10 at the ready. “Up and over!”

As one, the ten members of fourth squad rose and, after a short sprint to clear of any obstacles, stretched their wings and took off, wings buzzing. Behind them, third squad followed into their chaos above their heads. As they rose, Zarek could see the levels of the apartment building on the far side both getting closer and falling away under him. Below, the bridge was still taking fire as the Queendom’s forces pushed into the opposite beachhead. One of the Panzers was abruptly speared by a shell, detonating spectacularly in a fireball as the ammunition and fuel went up, fiery shrapnel raining against the hull of the halftrack behind it as the soldiers dismounted. Now he was above, Zarek spotted an Equestrian machine gunner huddling behind a wall of sandbags on a third floor balcony gawking as he paused, the words he muttered in exclamation lost to the noise and distance. Others, however, were not so slow on the take. As the squads rose above the roofline, Zarek’s heart chilled in his thorax. Mounted on top of the apartment building, firing on the passing Stukas, was a 40mm AA mount, surrounded by sandbags and ammo cans. Pony loaders were slamming a new cylinder in place as the spotter immediately brought down her binoculars, hollering a command at the gunnery crew and pointing frantically at the oncoming changeling fliers. Immediately, they cranked the gun around to line up on the incoming infantrylings, and the gun thundered, deafeningly loud as each shell roared past. The ones that missed still resulted in clouds of flak detonating behind them as the timers ran out, flashing and blinding the changelings. The ones that hit, however, left little to nothing but ragged chunks of meat, scraps of uniform and metal shrapnel. Fortunately, the gunners only had seconds before the lings were over, fifteen soldiers quickly and brutally slamming into the ponies on the roof. Zarek leveled his rifle as soon as he landed, putting a round into the forehead of the spotter as she scrambled for her rifle. Korporal Malkarion fired his MP10 at a unicorn, but a purple bubble abruptly popped into existence, deflecting the barrage. It wasn’t as effective against Private Anchetta who fitted her bayonet and speared the unicorn in the ribs. After a moment of violence, the rooftop was cleared, and Zarek snapped his rifle around as the lack of hostiles perplexed him a moment, though he still felt the shudder of fear in his wings.

“Secure the area!” Sergeant Rakowitz called, glancing around. The gunnery crew hadn’t put up much fight on the actual roof, but two changelings still lay dead, not to mention the five or six the gun had burst in midair on the way over. One of them was Sergeant Tetch, leader of third squad. In this small bubble amidst the storm, as artillery pounded the city and the changeling advance pressed the bridgehead, Zarek had a moment to check his surroundings. They had the gun, and the only way off this roof (structurally, at least) was a hatch door in the roof leading down a flight of stairs. He could see his squadmates, his friends, still alive as well. Nera, Anchetta, Malkarion, Vorle and Malket. But aside from him and Rakowitz, that meant they had lost three. His heart sunk in his shell as he realized Goran, Vess and Xander must have been some of the victims of the 40mm, obliterated without trace. He didn’t know any of third squad by heart, though he must have heard their names at least a few dozen times.

Rakowitz appeared to come to some decisions, gesturing towards the gun. “Third squad, secure this rooftop. Get on that gun, burn through the pony ammo. Get some support out there. Janar, Yan, you’re coming with us.”

The two other soldiers Rakowitz pointed out stepped over immediately, and fourth squad moved to the staircase. As they did so, Zarek heard the cranking of the gun assembly, and he looked back. The remnants of third squad had figured the crank wheels easily enough, and were wheeling the 40mm gun down, targeting another building nearby. This one looked like a shop turned into a bunker, several machine gun nests in windows and infantry hunkering behind sandbags as they fired on more changelings attempting to cross another bridge further downriver. Zarek could only watch, following the muzzle of the cannon as it let out a sharp crack, much louder than when they’d been facing it. A shell streaked out, smashing into the adjacent store-bunker, blowing out the facade and rending whoever was sheltering there in flames. The gunners didn’t let up, firing the gun on full auto and raking the shop back and forth.

“Clear this apartment out, room by room!” Sergeant Rakowitz shouted, urging his soldiers on, calling Zarek back to the fight. Fourth squad streamed down the stairs, doors kicked down and weapons chattering. Caught by surprise from a direction they weren’t expecting, the Royal Army troopers were cut down as the changeling soldiers took revenge for their squadmates. It was a butchery. Though they were outnumbered, the din and chaos of battle covered their movements for two whole floors, and they caught the Equestrians by surprise. Zarek found himself almost losing his sense to the downright repetitive nature of the action. Open door, kill ponies inside, move on. They only found soldiers. Intel had told them the city was previously evacuated, so they instead killed infantrymares, machine gunners, a few officers once in a while, a radio room at one point. There must have been a whole platoon holed up here.

About the third floor was when the Equestrians caught on that something was wrong.

Zarek shouldered open a door, finding himself face to face with a whole rifle section leveling their Lavender rifles, a Nickers MG turned and facing the door. Zarek felt time slow down as he tried to reverse, feeling Anchetta run into his backside, knowing at least three soldiers were behind them.

Abruptly, the connecting door also flew open, and Privates Vorle and Malket burst in from an adjoining room. For a split second, the whole room was caught in a freezeframe before the two newcomers leveled the MG42 they had been hauling and cut the Equestrians down where they stood. The machine gun spit a curtain of brass to the side as the apartment was drowned in blood, bullet holes and tatters of green uniforms. Zarek, to his credit, had dove to the side, and now was just trying to hunker down and not get hit by friendly fire.

In the aftermath, the silence was deafening. His ears were ringing as he tried to get his bearings back to himself, tasting the gunpowder and copper of the blood in the air. Ahead, he could see the lifeless corpses of the ponies, piled over on one another, their uniforms stitched across with ugly, red bullet holes. At point blank range like this, the machine gun rounds had blown out ugly exit wounds the size of a hoof, and the ones who had been shot in the head or face had been mutilated almost beyond recognition. Zarek’s breath hitched, and he felt himself wheezing as he stared down at a red Earth pony whose wide, lifeless eyes stared back, wide and surprised at the suddenness of his fate.

After what felt an eternity, he felt someling shaking him, calling his name.

“Zarek? Hey, Zarek! C’mon, snap out of it!” He managed to pull himself back enough to recognize the voice; Nera, crouched over him and shaking his shoulder, calling his name. The others must have assumed him dead. She pushed him again, and he finally came back to the present.

“Huh? What?” he finally asked dumbly.

“C’mon! We still have the other floors to clear!” She turned, having snapped her squadmate back before glancing back from the doorframe, frowning. “You wounded?”

Zarek dumbly patted himself down, looking for green ichor. For the time being, nothing appeared to be leaking out of himself, and the only injury he had appeared to sustain was his ringing ears and some bruising to his carapace when he’d thrown himself down. Dazed, he shook his head.

“Then let’s go!” Nera yelled. “There’s still a whole city left to take!”

She left, and Zarek was alone with the dead. He turned, trying to ignore the corpses, and looked out the window behind the Nickers gun. Out in the street intersection, Acornage was on fire. Every building appeared to have sustained damage from the bombardment overhead, from afar and now in the streets, parked cars crushed, turned over or on fire. He could see bodies from here. Some wore uniforms, some didn’t. He tried not to let that stick in his mind. An Equestrian tank clattered into view, one of their newer ones if he remembered from the briefing. A Timberwolf?

It didn’t get far. As it took up position to cover the Royal Army ponies behind, a Panzer III also came into view from the direction of the bridgehead the changelings had crossed over. Much more quickly, the turret swivelled around, and its cannon boomed. The Timberwolf rocked, then detonated in a massive fireball, killing many of the ponies nearby and setting several on fire. Halftracks, trucks and changelings on hoof rolled past the Panzer, machine guns blasting as they took on building after building. Further down, an Equestrian barricade began spitting machine gun and rifle rounds at the oncoming horde. Mortar fire began falling on the intersection. Changeling artillery boomed in the background as Nebelwerfer rockets screamed by. Someling was -actually- screaming nearby. The ground cracked and rumbled before a massive shape broke through the intersection, the form of a tunneling wormlike creature erupting from the asphalt. A battleshifter, in the form of a massive Thrax worm. The ling was an exceptionally powerful one, as whoever they were turned, their armored face swinging down to examine the panicking pony soldiers below. A Humber armored car clumsily tried to reverse, the gunner firing up at the shifter despite the rounds visibly bouncing off the chitin plating. With almost contemptible ease, the shifter put a huge, armored mandible through the top of the car, spearing it through like paper.

Zarek reached down, grabbing up his Gewehr and scrambling after his squad.

It took a few more nightmarish hours, and the leveling of half the city, but Acornage finally fell. Dawn arose on a shattered landscape and a changeling army triumphant.

The Royal Army had put up much stiffer resistance than expected. While Acornage had fallen in the end, the cost was high. Fourth squad were assigned to mop up detail, moving through the streets to be taken the last few shreds of resistance down or in. They’d come away with plenty of POWs, headed back into the Changeling Lands for detainment.

Zarek glanced at the houses they passed, rifle slung over his flank. Many of their fronts had been shattered by cannon fire or flattened by shells, rockets and bombs. The ones still standing were pockmarked by bullet holes, their windows shattered and doors splintered down. One had the wreck of an Equestrian Muletilda tank that had driven through the living room before it had been destroyed. The nature of these homes perplexed Zarek. In hives, residences were built into huge blocks, where hundreds of rooms could be packed in, housing thousands of changelings. But these homes looked like they could hold, maybe, a dozen ponies each. Some were larger, two story affairs. Confusingly, the number of bedrooms per home that he had seen told that the average pony home usually held two to four ponies, a rare few holding more. This seeming waste of space was alien to him, the fact that a city could cover so much ground and yet they seemed to purposefully limit themselves in how many could be in it. Zarek knew he was trying to distract himself from the Royal Army pony and Queendom changeling corpses they passed in masses, some in piles as POW work crews and changeling engineers labored to clear the city. He also knew it wasn’t working.

Hauptman Nihilith had joined them on this sweep. It was the task of officers to learn from their ranks as much as from the lowers to seek their officers’ leadership, after all. He had taken the head of the file with Radowitz, their heads leaned in close as they conversed quietly. They hadn’t run into any more active combatants quite yet, mostly a few soldierponies that had surrendered when faced with a dozen changeling gunbarrels. The squad was uneasy, but at least they weren’t being shot at.

Zarek leaned over to Nera, glancing around at the silent neighborhood before he quietly said “I guess that could have gone worse.”

In all honesty, he was just trying to make conversation, but Nera didn’t seem too interested in engaging, just nodded as she followed along, occasionally scanning her surroundings. Zarek wasn’t sure how to react to that, as he himself was unsure of how to process their surroundings either. They turned another corner, two lines down the middle of the street. Ahead was what he assumed to be a public park of some kind, where a statue bust of Princess Celestia topped a fountain, surrounded by colder friendly shrubbery and benches. Whatever kind of idyllic scene it was supposed to paint was spoiled by one house having been smashed by a Queendom Stuka, its bent and beaten tail fins poking out of the wreckage, as well as most of the few civilian cars having been smashed aside or crushed by passing tanks. A few Equestrian battalions had managed to escape from the city, and in their rush they had clearly left with little regard to what was in their way.

A handful of Queen’s Guard were clustered around the fountain, inspecting the bust statue. With little warning, one of them disappeared in a flash of green, and the massive Thrax worm emerged instead, its tail knocking aside another car. With a swing of a huge mandible, the statue disappeared in a cloud of debris, sending chunks raining down around the fountain. Without fanfare, the Queen’s Guardlings inspected the chunks, making sure there was nothing left to recognize. Upon confirming the statue’s destruction, they unceremoniously loaded into the back of a nearby idling halftrack, the battleshifter retaking his previous form.

Hauptman Nihilith moved to the front of the squad, calling them close.

“This is necessary,” the captain declared, gesturing to the destroyed statue as he tugged irritatingly at a gauge bandage covering his neck, from under which a small leak of green ichor could still be seen. “For this war, destroying the enemy’s material and killing their soldiers will not be enough. To defeat them, we must crush their fighting spirit, and any symbols they rally around.” He gestured to the cityscape in the distance, the columns of smoke and the changeling aircraft still flying overhead. “Our brave comrades gave a heavy toll for this place. It is the first step. The most difficult. But more important than the first is making sure we fight just as hard for the second. And the next. And the next. Look to your fellows. Your platoonmates went above and beyond sustaining such losses and taking up the enemy gun. They’ll be decorated for such bravery. Many of you can earn such awards. Thousands of changelings were killed, wounded or disappeared this day. So now, you have your own, personal reasons for revenge. To match that of our nation, and our queen. Do NOT let them die in vain.”

With that, the Hauptman turned away, and the squad resumed their sweep for stragglers. Zarek supposed they had little time for ceremony.

After all; they had an invasion schedule to keep.

Author's Note

After months of hiatus and absence, we are back!

My apologies to everyone. I, as everyone else, have had to make radical adjustments to deal with the pandemic and chaos in the world this year. Eventually, the work and stress became too much, and it almost looked like I was to lose my job.

For everyone coming back, we welcome you with open arms. For those who have left and gone to other stories, I understand. For the new people, welcome to the warzone!

The journey continues on!