He was not a clever pony. Such a thought, that once used to keep him sane while he pondered his life choices, now kept him sane while he drove his motorized unit.

It smelled different from his old truck, which he had never seen again. He missed the little details. The engine that risked catching fire every two kilometers, the smell of his own coat on the seat, the feeling like he was moving his own body by turning a wheel and pushing on the speeder.

The monster they gave him was different – it was a standard piece, any and all frivolities reduced to nothing by the engine might of the Lunar Empire. It had four wheels, four walls, and four guns. More than enough to wipe out those filthy Solarists.

That was what he ended up calling them now, of course. The evil ponies who were standing against the just rule of the Empress of the Night herself. This and other truths he hung onto – they made his memory of the dying mare more comfortable, and they became more and more so with each Night.

Though it was hard to understand when each began and ended. The rusty bloody moon he had seen the night of the explosion had turned back into its usual white form, but it never slipped away from the sky. And it was easy to see where the solarists were, judging simply by the colour of the sky. The thin orange line that called onto him, to drive and smash through that line, carve a path with his unit beyond it and then shut the trap on the encircled ponies, a thread-and-needle affaire that had then bite on mile after mile of frontline, furthering their advance in central Equestria and towards the unmoving prize shining on the horizon. The royal city of Canterlot.

Seen from here, the noxious plains where ravens flew above and then swept down when they finished roughing up the bodies of the fallen, Equestria was another world. Grass, once green, now paved with the tracks of their motorized unit and the holes of bombardments. The wind carried the too-sweet smell of corpses and the faint hint of powder. Sometimes, faint cries.

But it all for the better. It was all for the right cause.

To bring peace and prosperity back to a country devastated by the tyranny of the evil Dawnbreaker. That was what it was. Radio Nox always said so. It spoke of the struggling workers on the coast, of the brave soldiers in the trenches around Luna Nova – they were about to capture the famed learning center and maybe, just maybe, find a breakthrough on a new type of magical rifle – of the genius of the Warmaster.

The Knife. That was how she called their motorized unit. A sharp blade to cut through the enemy lines.

Rush kept the radio always on. Especially when he tried to get some sleep. It helped to remind him he was doing the right thing. And with every time he closed his eyes, the voice in the Night that surrounded him lulled him back to the awareness that what he was doing was for the right cause.

That all the dead, the driving through the devastated fields, the black-and-blue shattered skies… it was all for peace, freedom, and progress.

He turned his eyes to his right – he had attached one of the war posters next to his seat. It was similar to the one he used to look at in the factory, back when this entire story had started, but with the fierce visage of the Empress guiding him towards a certain victory.

“Hey,” somepony tapped on his windscreen.

He blinked and turned to his left.

“The general is about to talk, Rush,” Comet Breeze, the yellow-eyed thestral that had been his gunner since they spoke with Midnight Oil, said through the glass.

“Sure,” he replied changing his station. The driving cabin was filled with static.

“Great. Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he replied with a weak smile. “I am perfectly alright.”

“You just need a victory, Rush. Canterlot is at hoof’s reach. We just have to take the city and the traitors will be too scared to keep fighting.”

“You are right.”

Her wings twitched as she grinned.

“I often am.”

With those words, she flapped atop the truck, where she had her twin guns at the ready.

“Attention, attention,” the coarse voice of Midnight Oil crackled through the radio. “We are about to begin. Bring your unit to point P39.” He looked down at the map on the seat beside him. Point P39 sat at the intersection between a line of hills and the gentle slopes at the beginning of Unicorn Range.

He began to drive. Sometimes he bumped against something and was not sure if it was a rock or a corpse.

It mattered little.

The rumble of the engine, scattering through his body until it rattled his teeth. The poster to his right, informing he was in the right place. The soft thumping sounds of his gunner as she adjusted the guns atop the truck. That was all that mattered.

And soon he had other things to worry about – the grass left room to mud, to leftover or lost equipment and unclaimed bones that cracked like brittle branches under the weight of the truck. Together with him, other motorized units gathered in a line, each of them carrying behind a plume of dust. This was where the front had collapsed.

Radio Nox often spoke of the bold maneuver by General Tzica in the south. Close to his old home, before the Night gave him a more meaningful one. He had never been able to contact his family. In his heart of hearts, he was happy. Happy because throwing his truck at seventy kilometers per hour, chewing over mud and grass and skulls was better than being stationed in the south and risking to meet the gaze of his parents.

“For the Night!” Rush cried out as the first scattered remains of the enemy soldiers appeared in view. The efforts of the companies of the Night had been to grind them into a withdrawal.

Rat-tat-a-tat! Sang Comet Breeze’s gun atop their truck, sputtering bright projectiles that wiped out fleeing pony after fleeing pony. Some screamed when hit.

Most did not.

Their objective was to turn that withdrawal into a rout.

And bit by bit they did, advancing into enemy territory – as the dying glow of the traitorous sun grew brighter and brighter the more they approached Canterlot and cut through dozens, hundreds, thousands of tired and terrified soldiers like pa’s sickle through wheat.

He heard Comet Breeze laugh, or maybe it was his own laughter.

The ride passed by too soon. They proceeded in a long curve, cutting the companies away from reinforcement and gunning down any foolish pegasus that tried to break through.

He couldn’t say how much time it had passed when the trucks gathered together once again at the base of the passes that went into the Unicorn Range. A few of the traitors had escaped, but it mattered little. May they go back to their brethren with a tale of the fury of the Night in their veins.

“That was amazing!” Comet Breeze laughed as she flew inside the cabin. She was slightly flushed and her bloodshot eyes sang of victory. She pulled him against her with her wings and he smelled her excited scent, her thundering heart. “We did great. Rush, you’re the best!”

His head swam. He turned his eyes against hers and for a moment it felt like they would be becoming even closer than before.

“Attention, attention,” Midnight Oil’s voice came through the radio once again. “I was notified by the Warmaster the frontline has collapsed near Ponyville and Cloudsdale. The enemy is rushing to patch its losses.”

“Wait, does that mean…” Comet Breeze’s voice trembled with hope.

Rush looked past her face, outside the window. Thestrals, by the dozens and airplanes, converged on the line of trucks. They all carried packs upon packs of fuel and fresh guns.

“The path is open, soldiers. We push through. Tonight, the Knife cuts down Canterlot.”

Author's Note

I have no idea how Generals actually talk. All my experience comes down to Girls und Panzer. I hope I did not make too terrible of a job. Oh well too late by now.
I still hope you are enjoying the story.