001. Industry, it's Called Industry, Right?
001. Industry, it's Called Industry, Right?
- Industry. It's called Industry, right?
" Industry. Coal. Fire. It runs the world, fuels the hearts of many ponies who try to make it by in their life by shoveling coal into the mighty beast of industry. Don't mind us drinkin' and makin' ourselves dip-ass drunk 'n all, but it's industry, m'boys!"
A drunken pony yelled as others walked by him. He was leaning against a dark brick building, black smoke spewing out of the black pipes that arose from the steam-powered building. Several stallions came up from the coal mines in the deep South of their nation, their hides stained black from the coal, their faces a mess. They all came out grinning like idiots, a job well done written upon their faces. No one knew the mines, operated the mines, or owned the mines like they did. Several hundred miles of tunnels beneath the earth held the key to their survival. They knew how stuff worked. Every pony in the newly industrialized nation knew how it worked- you worked by shoveling coal or working the assembly lines. If you knew you could fly, you didn't train traditionally- you flew in two-pony Vanships and shot down your opponents with anything that the Vanship could shoot. Unicorns usually accompanied the main pilots of the Vanships, as their magic proved extremely useful. But the industrialized nation threw away any kind of tradition—they didn't need ”tradition". They drank too much when it was around, ate too much and seemingly always had time for things other than work, but somehow work was always done. Steam-powered machines ran the business, and their sister nation of Equestria sat just off their shores to the West. The citizens of the nation wore classy work clothes, but never too shiny. The style was somewhat grungy and dismantled, but that's the way it was, and nopony ever minded it. Work was plentiful and the world paid them no attention. Their economy soared, there was barely a shortage of anything, much less the scarcity other than time and money.
"Now gentlecolts!" a pony stood on a soapbox, his messenger hat tilted over his head, "these past few years have been amazing! We are our own nation! Oppression from Equestria saying we've gone too far is done for! I-to-We, ladies and Gentlecolts! Stand and fight against the Equestrian dominance!" the crowd around the soapbox exploded in hoof-stamping and loud yelling. In truth, Equestria had barely touched their nation, they just let it grew, letting it thrive on a self-sufficiency such that Equestria had never seen the likes of before. However, the leaders of the new nation were getting power-hungry and were looking for land to overcome. In Equestria's existence, the founders plotted the land as they saw fit, and when they passed, no army had ever vanquished or taken the land. Equestria was powerful, but never a danger to the world around it.
* * *
-The Drunken Hoof Pub-
There was never a shortage of Stallions who wanted to get laid, drunk, or talk about business at the pubs in town. The small-town band there was always playing a Congress Reel of some kind, so the atmosphere was always high, always seemingly mysterious, open, and drunkenly smoky all at once. Every stallion there had an open mind- along with a nice glass of Cider- and talked about anything and everything, some putting up Propaganda posters about upcoming raids on the Western Coast of Equestria, others talking about going on the raid themselves. Unicorns would walk in and drag a few of the Stallions out, sending them straight to flight camp where they were taught to fly the steampunk-styled machines that pumped pure black smoke into the sky.
"Boys, we're going on a raid tonight!" one of the stallions yelled drunkenly, his eyes crossed and his speech slurred, "we're gonna toss them Equestrian ponies outta their own land! You watch! Them rat cat bastards won't know what hit 'em!" he kept yelling, and his friend who was beside him yelled back in reply, his face black from the coal mines,
"You couldn't hit 'em if you were sober! Let the pros handle this job!" the two drunkenly laughed as mares came downstairs to share business and pleasure while others hid around and talked about what was to be done.
"I say we hit 'em at Canterlot! That Princess bitch has no meaning except meet-and-greets! That's where we oughta do it!" one of the stallions was a tall, proud standing pony, his hair tousled, his eyes beaming, but his coat completely drenched with dirt and grime. He was wearing aviator's goggles, a worn-down flight suit and several medals. Several ponies around him agreed, cheering loudly.
"How about somewhere in Fillydelphia? All those big business have gotta go!" another one yelled out. Even more ponies agreed. One final pony got up and yelled above the rest,
"Let's take this to the Congress Wheel! We're organizing this thing immediately!"
Drinks clinked, ponies laughed, others left shortly after to grab their aviator uniforms and the pony who stood up grinned. Celestia and her Equestria won't stand a chance.
* * *
-The Training Grounds-
"Alrightie, boys! Find yerself a partner and quickly get to know each other! Go!" gray-mustached colt yelled, his voice thickly Scottish, his dark blue eyes darting around the training field as he watched over a hundred ponies scramble to find a partner. Flying partners weren't hoof-picked, they were more like scrambled together to see if they were compatible enough to fly together. If the two partners were, they would be sent on raids and be assembled with the other best times to put together a flight squad and so on until the most elite were in one huge flight division. Those divisions would be sent off into war and create the needed hole in Equestria for the ground troops to be sent in to finish the job. It wasn't easy training ponies to use machines their hooves weren't used to, but the jobs they were to do was simply enough—start the engine, slowly slide the throttle up, make sure there's enough steam and pressure powering the engine, take off, and make sure your gunner knows what to shoot. The rifles that were being made were of the purest and finest steel, crafted only by the best, the wood for the stocks cut down from only the best trees and the gunpowder and ammunition crafted by the best of the articulate, the intricate. Details were needed, and every rifle was seemingly different. Production was booming and the war wasn't even on, but the nation had a plan: take out Equestria's top cities and production, then move into Canterlot and destroy the elements of Harmony. Inner demons would be released and Equestria would slowly crumble into rampant madness, they hoped. Wishing was their only goal at this point.
Several ponies had found themselves a suitable partner, and the instructor barked then,
"Hand yer partner a rifle and head out t' the shootin' grounds! We need sharpshooters, not bloody drunkards looking for some god damn adventure fix!" half the ponies scrambled, each taking a rifle from the various boxes, taking a box of cartridges as well, then as the next flight team assembled, the instructor then called out,
"So yer the newest squad, eh?" he eyed them carefully, "go find yerself a vanship! There'll be 'nother instructor there to help ya! GO! Get outta my site you bloody foals! Next flight squad!"
* * *
-The Shooting Grounds-
The shooting grounds was a wide field, filled with what was left of the natural beauty of the nation before its industrialization. Food was needed for the growing economy and upcoming planned war, and commonly there were herds of buffalo-like animals stampeding through the grassy null. Per five teams of two ponies each, the instructor gave clear instructions to shoot one round and reload. The best team to shoot the most creatures, have the fastest shot of round per minute and accuracy belonged only to the best flyer. Each member of the two-pony team would be given a chance to shoot. The sun dawned low over the field, and the low thunder of the Earth grew as the herd of animals began charging down the hill, and the instructor gave the sign for all of the ponies to get ready. Each member of the team raised their rifles, primed them, and watched the slow moving black shape morph around the earth.
"Get ready, shooters!" the instructor's voice rang out against the day, "aim!" the first of the herd reached the end of the line of shooters, each equipped with trace rounds, and the instructor finally yelled, "FIRE!" each member started firing immediately, the steam-powered weapons coughing smoke and firing brightly-colored traced bullets out of the muzzles. They would reload lightning quick as each tried to take the kill of the other. Animals grunted as they fell, others tripped over their dead comrades as they tried to run to the other side of the line for safety. As the last twenty of the herd scrambled away and the instructor hadn't yelled cease fire, the last pony on the line held her breath, gently squeezed the trigger, and fired at the last of the herd. the shot exploded out from the muzzle of the rifle and sped towards the target, a bright blue trail in its wake. A soft grunt was heard and the giant creature, several hundred yards away, fell onto its side.
"Cease fire!" the instructor yelled, whistling with an impressed tone as he passed by the mare who had taken the last kill. "You're an impressive shot," he stated, staring down at her.
"I try," she noted quite humbly, a hint of gloating behind her voice. The instructor scoffed as he replied, walking down the line,
"That doesn't mean you'll get in a team, Miss Hawking," the mare named Hawking sat on her haunches in patience. As the instructor began walking back down the row, he started listing off names and the ponies whose names were called began to leave the shooting grounds,
"Dawn Star, you may leave to flight squad 357; Montreal, you may leave to flight squad 100; Ignatius, you can leave to flight squad 27; and..." he eyed the mare named Hawking, "Miss Hawking, you are leaving to flight squad 06," the mare nodded, her eyes lit up in excitement, and she raced off to join her squad.
"And as for the rest of you," the instructor noted those whose names weren't called off, "you're to be tested in flying. Pegasi, go to the flying field, unicorns, go to the magic arcane circles where you'll be taught." the rest did as they were told, each knowing their part in the upcoming war was to be as important as anyone else's.
* * *
-Canterlot-
"Twilight Sparkle, I called you and your friends here for a very specific reason," the Princess' voice was strained, almost quivering. The look in her eyes nearly gave it away. Twilight was in full panic mode and she replied drastically,
"Is something going to go wrong? Are you and Luna dying? What about Discord? I mean, are the Elements of Harmony in danger again? What are we going to-"
"TWILIGHT SPARKLE." the room became deathly quiet as Twilight settled down immediately. "the Elements of Harmony are safe here in Canterlot," Princess Celestia began, "but there is a danger looming on our horizon, I'm afraid. Luna has taken small glimpses at their progress over the years, and it appears they have become what they call "industrialized"." Twilight raised her eyebrows in confusion.
"What?" Celestia pulled a new looking book from her shelf and set it in front of Twilight and told her,
"Turn to page 37, it explains quite a bit according to the author who wrote it," Twilight nodded and laid down to read, and Rainbow Dash stepped forward, saying,
"But Princess Celestia, what are we going to do?" she glanced back at Twilight, "I mean can't we stop them with the Elements of Harmony like we did with Nightmare Moon?" Celestia shook her head gently, replying,
"I'm afraid that cannot be done, Rainbow," she sighed, "these are ponies we have watched be self-sufficient since they declared their independence from the Griffons long, long ago. They have mistaken us for them, and there's no way we can change their minds. Rainbow looked shaken and replied,
"So... are we going to war?" Celestia looked straight at Rainbow and a look of defeat came upon it.
"If we need those kinds of measures, it will be done so, Rainbow Dash. I'm not sure who will be needed, but I'm sure we will look to you to join the Pegasi to help fight this new danger," Applejack stepped forward after Rainbow retreated near Twilight and said,
"How 'bout the rest of us, Princess?" she looked puzzled, "I mean us Earth ponies could go in there too, right?" Celestia gained a small glimpse of hope mixed in with her fear that all the main six would go to war and possibly never come home again and she replied,
"We'd need food for those going over our borders, Applejack. Nopony can supply us with the best food if there aren't any ponies here to grow it, will there?" Applejack nodded, her eyes wide and a thin smile on her face.
"I gotcha', Princess. How 'bout ponies like Twilight? What would she do?" Celestia gave a glance over to the East, where the black smoke of the industrious nation seemed to rise from and she answered,
"She would most likely have to help defend Equestria with her magical abilities..." she trailed off, then thought to herself, You can't just send your best student out to war. She must stay here in Equestria to help defend us.
* * *
-The Coal Mines, industrious nation-
"Time's a'nearin', m'boys! The hour's near! Our raid's to be done tonight!" a voice yelled over a broken and dismantled intercom, "grab yer Aviator's uniforms and head out! Dusk is fast approaching and we don't have much time! Go!" hundreds of colts rushed out of the mines and several hundred more rushed out of work places and into the unforgiving cover of the night as the stars and moon gently arose above them. Engines roared to life, the marksmen grabbed their rifles and slowly but surely, the industrious nation's first airborne division rose to life, steam-powered vehicles ready for flight, flight goggles strapped tightly on, nerves tingling, minds set, bombers ready to go. And in a few hours, war would be blooming to the edge of complete hell.
* * *
001. Hours and Concrete Prisons
- Training Raids and Concrete Prisons
-Appleoosa-
Appleoosa sat in a hazy way in the far Western reaches of Equestria, deep where time itself seemed to stand still in the heat. It has been some time since Appleoosa's Orchard had ever moved from its location or grown, but the labors of the intense work paid off in small debts in the form of a few thousand apples from the trees. This paled in comparatively to the Apple Family Farm, which produced a great many more. But today was not a normal day, where the heat would settle in almost as well as the settlers had so many generations ago to build Appleoosa, and definitely not like any other day where stallions would go out to their fields to work or Braeburn to go to his orchard to buck apples. No, today was not an ordinary day.
Quite unlike, actually.
"Bareburn!" a voice yelled at the entrance of the orchard, echoing through the wooden branches and apples. "Braeburn, you have a letter from Princess Celestia!" Braeburn stopped halfway into bucking a tree, and he slowly set his back hooves back onto the dirt and took a clothe neckerchief to his face to wipe off the sweat. His eyes darted around the orchard and he titled his hat to shade his eyes better. He yelled back in reply,
"What y'all yellin' at me for? Ah'm comin, Ah'm comin, gimme a sec', will ya?" He slowly drug his hooves through the dry dust of the orchard until he hauled himself to the gates and pushed them open. A mail pony stood before him, eyes bright and shining. "Well howdy, stranger," he said in a cheery voice, "what brings y'all to Appleoosa?" he eyed the mail pony carefully, "and sure as hay don't look nothin' like Derpy," the mail pony laughed and he replied,
"We couldn't afford to send Derpy all by herself out this far, so we decided I be sent to deliver this news to you." he plucked a letter from his messenger back and handed it to Braeburn. He walked under a porch of one of the shops, tore the envelope open in a crude fashion and read aloud,
"Dear Braeburn;
Equestria is in a time of great need and assistance, as the industrialized nation to our coast is beginning to rise and plans on running a raid sometime today. Be prepared, bring anything you can that might disable this air division from breaching our land. If you do not, Princess Luna has taken a few... possessions... from them that may come in handy for us here. Alert the rest of Appleoosa, and watch for a draft letter—we need all we can get for help and assistance to protect this great nation.
Yours truly,
Princess Celestia."
There was a careful hoof-stamped signature of Celestia's on the page and Braeburn paled immediately as he heard a prompt poof and a heavy-weighted object make a heavy clank ahead of him as it fell to the wooden ground. It was lever-action rifle, complete with several boxes of cartridges to match. He glanced at the mail pony.
"Is this... is this a JOKE?" he muttered under his breath," Ah mean... ah'm just.. we can't do this! Ah can't do this! No one in Appleoosa can do this! Why'd she ask me?" the mail pony stared at the dirt and suddenly he seemed tired as he replied,
"Braeburn... I've had to travel many thousands of miles to get this to you. And..." he opened his mail bag, "you weren't the only one we had to request assistance from," the mail bag was bulky with letters from Celestia. Most of them were addressed to the big businesses of Fillydelphia and larger production cities. Braeburn's jaw dropped and he said in a hushed voice,
"So.. so all of Equestria's at war?" the mail pony shrugged.
"I'm afraid none of us are aware of what's to happen today, Braeburn," he nodded towards the rifle and said in a monotone, scared way, "and if I were you, I'd quickly learn how to use that,"
* * *
-The Industrious Nation-
The term "prison" or "jail" meant nothing to the industrialized nation, and the terms were constantly switched to "exile", "death", or "exile by death", or "death by exile", or whichever term seemed to fit the nation's imprisonment policy at the time. Every concrete wall seemed to arise against the horizon, running miles long, digging deep into the dirt of the Earth. The rebar that was used to help give the prison its shape was long-since rusted and destroyed, decaying just as the nation's policies had been for two hundred years. There was no glass, no food, no water, nothing. Imprisonment meant you were most likely going to die, and if you were lucky enough to live, you were either to be exiled or given one single change to prove you weren't as worthless as you had been to get jailed in such a fashion. Being jailed was the desired punishment for death because nopony ever survived the prison, but the lucky ones that got their chance almost always died in the end. So there were no real survivors unless you will to live transformed you. In your transformation in the industrious nation's prison, you evolved, lived through several lives. One day you would be the prisoner, another day you'd be the bully of the prison block, some other day you'd be too tired to do anything at all. But in the dawn of the day of the raid where the ponies were training some last number of times, the raid gave some of the ponies in the block a chance to free themselves from hell.
"You!" one of the guards shouted, walking down the halls, smacking the butt of his rifle against the cell bars as he walked, "the rusty-gold colored one! The Pegasus! Drag him out of his cell!" the other guards at the end of the hall did as they were told. They threw open the door of the cell, dragged out the Pegasus and threw him against the wall. He crumpled almost immediately and coughed up some blood as he glared at the main guard. He didn't speak, but his glowering hazel irises told the guard that what was to be said was all that mattered.
"Are we gonna free this sun'uv'a bitch?" the guard asked the others, and the main guard stooped down to glare back at the rust-colored Pegasus.
"Did you hear that? You rat cat bastard," a rifle came close to the Pegasus' skull and it the loading mechanism clicked, "you're being freed," the guard chuckled as he saw a glint of hope enter the Pegasus' eyes. The guard turned to the others and stated, chuckling,
"This one won't make it out of our nation. Free him." the guards did- again- as they were told, while one slipped in a comment,
"How 'bout we make him fight? We can offer him up as a sacrifice for the war," the main guard narrowed his eyes and retorted,
"For what?" he scoffed, "what's he good for?" the two guards blinked dumbly, and standing on the edge of the prison where the face of the tower was built at the edge of a cliff, they threw their prisoner out of the tallest window, watching his now dusk-colored body descend to the rocks below. Death had a wager to see who would live in the industrious nation, and to its disappointment, few ever made it.
Back inside, the guards chuckled to themselves and they talked amongst themselves,
"You think he'll survive?"
"Nah, he was a weak prisoner."
"But he did live through his imprisonment...." the other two guards nodded slowly, exchanging glances.
"And we just let him go, didn't we?" the first guard shook his head madly and replied thickly,
"We have better fliers than him, though! We don't need strong fliers, we need smart fliers! Besides, I'm sure he won't survive the flight anywhere. There's no one that will believe who he is." the two other guards nodded again.
"He has no family, no lineage. Whatever happens to him is no longer up to us."
The dusk-colored Pegasus fell, feeling the wind shoot past him. His wings were tightly folded against his body, but as he fell, back down towards the ocean, eyes staring up at the sky, he closed them for but a second and thought, You can do this. Just fly... another thought snuck in, But you haven't flown for months! How do you expect to fly now? Wait... all of that energy you spent training in respected silence... The Pegasus opened his eyes, narrowed them in a revengeful way, and suddenly opened his wings. He expected to hear hollow cracks and snaps and blood spray everywhere, but the tightness he felt in the muscles in his back was him catching the wind. He did several spirals as he tried to pull up from hitting the ocean, and he skimmed the surface of the water with his hooves before he managed to tightly pull upwards, still spiraling. Where he would go, he had no idea. But this was exile, some kind of freedom you were never supposed to escape from. You had to not fear death when you escaped.
* * *
-The airfields-
"Again! go!" the airfield instructor yelled, sending another flight squad screaming into the air, watching the smoke trails fly behind them. His eyes beamed and he felt his heart skip a beat as he watched the squad seamlessly work together, hearing the cracks of every shot being fired at the mock targets. These boys know what they're gettin' themselves into, I tell ya, he thought, a grin approaching his face. He glanced at the colt next to him, who signaled a flashing beacon to signal the flight squad could come down from their routine. As the airfield instructor watched the squad's vanships all come down and land, he announced loudly,
"You did well, all of ya! Boys, you're all done for t'day, go rest before the raid really begins!" a loud cheer erupted from the pilots and co-pilots, and they each clambered out of their ships and began walking towards the recreational halls for a break. The instructor nodded to himself and the beacon-worker suddenly spoke up,
"What do you think is gonna happen?" the instructor turned around and looked straight at the colt who had spoken.
"What do you mean?"
"With the raid and all... you know..."
"The raid's going to be fine. There won't be any beacons, they'll know when they're done,"
"But what if they fail?"
"They won't. That's why I'm teaching them how to fly,"
The beacon-worker sighed as he gave up worrying about how the raid would go, and the two departed in an awkward motion of turning in opposite directions and walking away.
* * *
-Ponyville-
The high afternoon sun of Celestia beamed over the town of Ponyville, marking the time where everyone- usually- was up and doing something productive. Braeburn had written a letter to Applejack when he had received the rifle from Celestia, and the main six had all gathered to read it.
"Did he mention he was actually going to fight?" Twilight piped up, laying down on the usual picnic blanket under the same tree they had always eaten under as the others sat down, each peeking at the letter now and again.
"Ah don't know, Twilight. Braeburn's just not that kinda' Colt, you know?" Twilight and the others nodded.
"I'm sure others will volunteer on their own, right? I mean it's to protect our home," Rainbow spoke, glancing at the letter, "who wouldn't want to protect our home?"
"Yes, but there are some ponies who dislike the grizzly nature of getting filthy," Rarity chimed in, and the others gave her a dry look and she shrugged, continuing, "I mean... I've had my times I've gotten filthy, but that was for a good cause!" she gave a hesitant smile and slowly backed out of the conversation, lending her ears only to listen.
"Ah'm just afraid he won't learn how in tarnation to shoot the thing," Applejack looked continually worried for her cousin, and Twilight answered,
"We're all afraid, Applejack, there's no reason to not be," at that, a brief pop was heard, and Twilight caught the rolled up scroll before it hit the ground. In plainly distressed wording the letter read,
"The hour has come. Be prepared to defend Equestria with everything you've got—Twilight, you and your friends must stick together and fight any way you can. I believe in you, Bearers of the Elements of Harmony. Go, my little ponies," it was signed by both Princesses, and Twilight paled at the thought. Rainbow and Applejack exchanged glances, and Twilight could almost hear the machines of war turning their cogs and compasses towards the borders of Equestria.
* * *
