Chapter 3 - Hitting Their Stride

Lack of sleep was never a problem for Apple Bloom. Physical exhaustion was never much of a problem either, nor was she uncomfortable being crowded by ponies in an enclosed space. However, there was one thing that always managed to trip her up. One thing that never seemed to go her way was something that tripped up even the strongest of ponies.

Math.

Training had now been going on for a full week, and while studying armor specs was as natural to her as making Zap Apple Jam or helping a pony figure out their special talent, new lessons added to their training schedule had slapped her and half the platoon of trainees right across the muzzle and sent them mentally spiraling into a wall.

“Why did they have to add numbers to math?” she muttered to herself as they went over yet another calculation. Next to her, another member of her squad huffed in agreement. Duke, a unicorn stallion, was having just as much trouble as she was, but unlike her he was willing to be vocal about it.

“Is there any reason that we need to memorize all this junk?” he asked incredulously when Dr. Mobius started accepting questions, “EVAs can do all the jump calculations for us.”

“Yes, they can.” Sidney chided, “But if your onboard EVAs are disabled, or Celestia-forbid you’re severed from the global network, you’ll need to be able to accurately calculate your own jump vectors… unless of course, you’d like to become even more intimate with the ground than Lance Corporal Leaf?”

This got a slight amused murmur from the rest of the ponies, Windy Leaf especially glaring daggers at Duke before chiming in.

“My relationship with the ground is monogamous, thank you very much. Go faceplant into a wall if you need a quick lay, Duke.”

Sidney was quick to quiet down the reaction from this quip, returning her attention to the red unicorn.

“I don’t expect all of you to take to this with ease, that’s why you have the next few months to learn, but you are not going to be cudgels that GDI swings at random. Your minds must be as sharp as your bodies, and that means learning how to calculate a jump arc in your armor. Luckily for you, the systems will automatically gather data about your surroundings whether or not the EVAs are active.”

“Only in this case, if we mess up a calculation…” Apple Bloom started, only for Sydney to cut in again.

“You will break bones and possibly die. So learn and learn well, my little ponies, or you’ll be doing Nod’s job for them.”
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After having to wrack her brain and make a mental note to send a missive to Big Mac for possible pointers, Apple Bloom was led from one classroom right into another one, followed by their time in the gymnasium. While that gave her a brief respite from having to put too much thought into her work, that respite was too brief for her tastes as they once again found themselves at desks rather than armor stations.

This time however, Apple Bloom wasn’t completely lost. Even if they weren’t in front of proper armor stations, the desks they were seated at were soon home to circuit boards and soldering tools.

“Third lesson for today, trainees.” Sydney announced as the schematic for the boards they had on their desks illuminated the screen behind her, “With the ponypower shortages that GDI is sure to have, as well as the fact that you will be shot at regularly, each of you will need to learn how to properly repair and maintain your suits of armor. Last thing we need is for a servo to go out and you become mission killed just because you can’t tell the difference between a nut and a washer.”

“One goes well with ice-cream, the other makes sure that I don’t smell like sweat every morning.” someone chimed in, getting a light giggle from Dr. Mobius.

“That’s one way to look at it, yes. But on a more serious note, we need to make sure that you’re all self-sufficient, just in case you all are the only troopers this program graduates. EVA, walk them through the safety procedures, please.”

And once again, the droning voice of a synthetic mare filled Apple Bloom’s ears almost to the point of artificial narcolepsy. The only thing keeping Apple Bloom’s interest was the fact that this sort of hoofwork was something she was actually familiar with. Back before the war, and even before she got her cutie mark, the red-maned farm mare had shown a knack for working with her hooves. Fixing things, building things, even doing maintenance on farm equipment were all right up her alley, and now she had a chance to use it in a way she never expected to in the service.

This aptitude didn’t go unnoticed, as soon enough, the rest of her team was going back and forth between her work station and their own asking for pointers in a way that a pony would actually say rather than an AI regurgitating a database entry.

As this was going on, Apple Bloom couldn’t help but wonder if this was all some sort of training deception. She had heard plenty of “horror stories” from the trainees who used to be Marines about how sometimes their instructors would try to lure them into a false sense of relaxation before hitting them with some sort of intense physical training. They had been going hard now for seven days straight, and only now as they worked through the eight day, training involved three courses that required a classroom.

Her paranoia wasn’t an anomaly though, Duke and Ace were both jarheads before being selected and she could see the tension in their body language. Even with Jet Deck trying to calm their nerves by stating as plainly as possible that all of these mental gymnastics were needed to become the best of the best, their instincts were that any moment, a Drill Instructor was going to burst in and demand they go on another 10 kilometer run.

It was completely natural that the two stallions almost jumped out of their seats when Night Light burst into the classroom near the end of their allotted time and caused a handful of trainees to send their soldering irons flying. If not for being connected to their power source, the scalding hot metal rods would have embedded themselves in the ceiling and several walls. As it was, they merely became very dangerous pendulums until their owners got them under control again.

“I see some of you still need to work on keeping your composure.” the blue unicorn quipped, “Field repairs will be done under indirect fire if you’re lucky, direct fire more often than not.”

“It’s merely day one, Captain. Plenty of time to get their hooves steady and their nerves steeled away for repairing a circuit while bullets bounce off their visors.” Sydney replied, “I take it you’re here to escort them to the armor bay?”

With that, as well as Night Light’s affirmation of Dr. Mobius’ inquiry, the entire platoon perked up. The one thing they looked forward to besides meals and rack time was getting to see and work with their armor. They were all so happy to be getting to do proper hooves-on training that they didn’t even notice the sly grin that their commanding officer gave his civilian counterpart.
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Apple Bloom was almost happy to be out of the classrooms and back to the armor bay for more armor practice, even if today’s practice was yet another conditioning exercise. One of the exercises that Night Light had authorized and that their drill instructors seemed to enjoy was putting everyone in their armor, shutting down all but one of the spark reactors, and telling the trainees to walk around the bay until they couldn’t move anymore.

Publicly, Pleasant Breeze had said it was just in case they only had emergency power in the middle of a combat situation. In private, he admitted that seeing the trainees struggle so much the first time they did it was too amusing to not do again. Apple Bloom and the rest of her squad were happy to keep that secret given their position as the top team in the platoon, which was in no small part thanks to how hard Breeze pushed them.

Extra punishments, extra PT, extra duty, even extra cleaning duty. If he could find a way to keep First Squad busy, he did. Thankfully, this offset most of the jealousy that came with the few perks that being the top squad had earned them. Apple Bloom, Jet Deck, Funny Cide, Duke, and Wild Ace had all gotten permission to continue personalizing their armor in ways that the other trainees couldn’t for the time being.

Even if Scootaloo was busy with the Air Force, and Sweetie Belle was still missing, Apple Bloom would keep the spirit of what they started alive. Behind her name, the emblem of the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Similarly, the rest of the squad picked meaningful things to embellish their armor with.

Funny Cide put laughing skull next to her name, Duke emblazoned his name in the same shade of red as his coat and put a purple stripe along the center of his helmet where his purple mane would usually be. Wild Ace added a pair of playing cards underneath his, the Ace of Hearts and the Ace of Spades.

Jet Deck on the other hoof, had a much simpler approach to his personalization. In large white lettering on his left shoulder, was the number 400.

Night Light had called the additions “appropriate” and even thanked the five ponies for not going overboard. Thunder Sprint, Third Squad’s leader, ended up thanking Jet Deck and the others as well. With Duke keeping his more inappropriate impulses in line and not putting a posing mare on the barrel, the rest of the platoon would be cleared to personalize their armor at a later date, whenever they “earned” it. There was no telling when that would be, but the fact that the option was open to them was something for the ponies to strive for.

For now however, they all got to suffer through wading around the armor bay in barely powered suits of armor while Sydney ran diagnostics. Everypony was struggling against the weight, with even Jet Deck having trouble. The first time they had done this, barely anypony had managed to get a single lap in. This time however, it first appeared that they would barely get through the first five steps.

Sydney was actually about to call off the exercise when the thundering of a single step caught her off guard. Jet Deck and the rest of his squad had all stepped forward at the same time. The next step was synchronized as well, as were the ones following that. It wasn’t until she regained her composure that she realized Jet Deck was giving marching orders to his squad as they walked, and it seemed to be encouraging them to overcome the exhaustion.

While the other teams had some trouble getting the hang of it, and Night Light couldn’t blame them considering this was only the second time they had ever attempted it, First Squad was once again paving the way as they moved as one. Step after arduous step took the five ponies steadily forward and soon enough, a smiling Night Light was talking with his instructors again.

“Staff Sergeant Breeze, a moment please.” the unicorn said.

“Of course, what do you need, sir?” the pegasus instructor answered with his signature smile.

“I couldn’t help but notice that your squad continues to out-perform the rest of the platoon. I take it that you putting them through hell on a daily basis is to blame?”

“I can’t take all of the credit, sir.” Pleasant Breeze stated, “I have a Fightin’ 400 member and an Apple in the squad, they have their own reputations to live up to and I think that’s what is driving them both.”

“Well, regardless of why they are outperforming their peers, I think it’s time for a more… substantial reward.” Night Light told the gathered trainers, now addressing the lot of them instead of just Pleasant Breeze, “I want the entire squad slotted for post-graduation promotions, as for today… I think another celebratory run is in order.”

“One Week Anniversary, sir?” one of the other instructors asked with a wicked grin on his muzzle. That grin was soon mirrored by his peers and the ZOCOM officer standing before them.

“Of course, we have to make up for the amount of time they’ve spent on their flanks somehow, and they won’t rest well if they aren’t properly tired.” he told the assembled group, “But go easy on them this time… 7 clicks instead of 10 will do.”
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Five laps around the armor bay quickly became a run around the perimeter of Camp Reckless, and while the Marines of the trainee platoon were once again given a very literal run down memory lane, the rest of the platoon was busy trying not to puke.

“Celebratory” merely meant the run was strictly for motivational purposes. No gear, no packs, and no extra weights. This run was in PT gear and PT gear alone, which just so happened to now have the proper heraldry attached to it. Even with the pain in their joints, the unsteadiness of their stomachs, and the fires in their muscles, there was a brighter fire in their guts as they kept their formation.

Despite how uncomfortable they all were, they were all genuinely motivated, and while it didn’t dull their aches and pains, it sure as hell encouraged them to ignore it all. Their PT uniforms, usually just an olive drab or desert beige shirt and pair of shorts were replaced by unit garb in the same neutral gray as ZOCOM uniforms, but with the Zone Trooper insignia stitched into the shoulders and their names stitched into their flanks.

Adding to the almost zen state that the trainees were in, was Wild Ace proving that once a jarhead, always a jarhead, and he had apparently been one of those insufferable ‘motivator’ types. As they passed the first kilometer mark, he began belting out cadences. At first, the trainees were reluctant to join in given their exhaustion, but Duke was quick to follow Ace’s lead.

Shortly after, the rest of First Squad was shouting out replies to whatever Duke could think up or remember, and by the time the platoon passed the two kilometer marker, they had joined in as well. What had started out as merely a chance to get in some last minute PT and break in new fatigues turned into a legitimate celebration that so far, nopony had dropped out of the program despite the best efforts of the drill instructors galloping alongside their trainees.

Cadences, chants, and even a much more profane version of Pinkie Pie’s “Smile” courtesy of the Navy, were shouted to the quickly darkening sky with enough variation to keep any prying eyes from guessing the platoon’s true nature. Security was still paramount, and luckily there were no Zone Trooper motivational calls invented just yet, and even as an earth pony stallion kept a camera running from his apartment pointed at them as they ran, the data analysts back in Mareajevo couldn’t glean any information. This seemingly jumbled group of ponies thrown together from every branch of GDI’s military running together was just that, a random assortment. For all Nod could figure out, this was just ZOCOM getting stricter with recruitment policies and no longer taking civilians. Another analyst might guess that special forces was trying to recreate the success of the Dead Six and was standardizing commando training.

The truth of the matter though, would remain a mystery that only the surprisingly high-spirited Zone Troopers and their handlers would know for now.

That feeling of high spirits and light hearts carried the trainees all through the rest of the run. Even as they ate, got through their showers, and even their nightly free time, the mood stayed positive. When it came time to get to bed and each pony was once again welcomed into the sweet embrace of their racks, sleep found them all easily, and even Jet Deck slept soundly that night. That fact in particular was something Apple Bloom was grateful for, given part of her soreness from that evening’s run was the aftermath of Jet Deck’s PTSD. He didn’t have full motor control when he was going through his episodes, so when he kicked it was full force.

Despite all of that, the future Zone Troopers and those entrusted with their care and training kept their high spirits, and what dreams they all had didn’t put a damper on anything.

When they all awoke the next morning to the sound of recorded trumpets, Night Light could tell there was a slight difference. While not a completely cohesive combat unit yet, given even basic recruits could gallop and march in step with minimal training, the potential they held was now obvious to both trainee and trainer alike. What Night Light saw gave him hope. Hope that the program would continue, hope that the mounting casualties could be averted by these elite troops, hope that the trainees would be ready in time to make a difference.

Hope that he had chosen the right ponies to end this war.

Author's Note

Apologies for the delay, one of my classes this semester has me writing two short essays a week, and while I love writing in this universe, grades take precedence over fanfiction.