Foxhole

Shit. Shit. SHIT!

Ok. Stop. Think.

Selenite sucked in sharp, controlled breaths. She couldn’t panic. Panic is the mind killer. In this case, it was very literal.

Centering herself, Selenite did a quick headcount. Two yetis, one with a light staff, and seven storm creatures.

Immediately Selenite pulled the rifle close, feeling her chest tighten. She quickly checked to ensure the rifle was loaded. It was, but she couldn’t tell how many bullets were in the magazine.

Calling out to warn Sol was the worst possible option. It would only expose herself, and if he ran back, that’d expose him too. There was no way to solve this without revealing herself or sitting idly by as he was discovered. Hunkering down and hoping for the best was also out of the question, with the yetis and storm creatures advancing down the road, a firefight was inevitable.

May as well make the first shot.

Readying the rifle Selenite, despite the pain in her forehooves, aimed at one of the yetis. He held the staff, he was the commander. If there was anyone to target, it was him.

She held her breath, focused on her target, and squeezed.

Sol threw himself onto the ground as the rifle rang out, ‘shots fired, take cover’ being his first thought. The stupidity of diving onto a mine-laden road was his second thought, but thankfully not his last.

He recognised that sound, it was undoubtedly a Lilac rifle shot and it came from up the hill. He took a glance up the hill, where Selenite was. That’s where he thought it came from, and it didn’t look like anybody else was up there. What was she shooting at?

That’s when he noticed. A blue light shone from the other end of the road, dancing through the air and shining through the wreckage. Sol stuck to cover. That must have been it, the enemy were here and Selenite was shooting at them. Then right as he hit that conclusion, another flash and a bang from the foxhole.

A crack loud enough to deafen Selenite roared for a moment as the rifle fired. It punched her in the shoulder a second time and her whole body seared with pain. Of course she missed both shots and her wound stung more. She pulled back the bolt to cycle the next round.

The yetis and storm creatures had mostly gone prone. All except the yeti with the light staff, who’d taken a knee. He was spinning the light staff in all directions, shining over every inch of hillside in search of their assailant. She ust had to hit him before he-

The light hit Selenite, blinding her. The yeti called out. Squinting from the intrusion, Selenite focused and squeezed the trigger.

And the yeti went down!

He was still moving, but his staff had fallen into the sand and he was clutching his neck. If it was fatal or not didn’t concern Selenite, just that they’d been disabled. Selenite cycled the bolt and prepared to take another shot.

Only to have to duck as the storm creatures returned fire. Selenite slipped under just in time, narrowly avoiding getting torn apart as bits of earth sprinkled over her.

Sol witnessed the engagement, peeking through a window in the wreckage. The mooks and the standing yeti were shooting at Selenite. They’d already won the firefight, no doubt Selenite was hopelessly pinned down.

But they hadn’t spotted him, or had any idea he was there. He had cover, the element of surprise, and a Marechester submachine gun with thirty-two 9mm rounds. If he aimed well, that’s four bullets per foe. More than enough to secure kills.

He’d faced tough odds before. All his life, he’d faced tough odds and survived. Yet this already felt different. Like he intuitively knew this would be his last battle.

But the Warmaster’s life on the line, Selenite’s life, he couldn’t leave her alone. He couldn’t disappoint her, couldn’t fail her, not now. Through unrelenting effort and determination, he’d have this. This was a fight he could win.

There was no time for hesitation. Keeping his head low, he held his gun against the wreckage. First, the standing yeti. If the staff wielding yeti was down, command fell to him. Sol stopped for a moment, barely a breath, to aim. Then squeezed.

The Marechester rattled as it sent a quick three round burst of smoke and hot lead. A shriek, then the yeti collapsed like a ragdoll.

Far from done, he shifted his aim to the nearest mook and let off another burst. The act was automatic, almost mechanical to Sol by this point. Through the debris he saw the mook stumble. He took no time to slow down; he aimed his next burst.

But a barrage of lead was sent his way before he could get another burst off.

Bullets cracked all around him, dinking off the metal of the jeep as he dived behind the metal wreak.

The incoming volume of fire was too much. If he exposed himself at all, he’d be lucky if he got hit in the head. Fortunately, he had telekinesis. All he needed was a mirror and he’d have what he needed to fire over cover. To his luck, one of the jeeps’ wing mirrors was lying face down in the sand. He picked it up in his magic and wiped the sand off with his hoof. Dirty and cloudy, but a mirror’s a mirror. At least it wasn’t cracked.

With his magic, he held up the mirror at an angle to watch the oncoming assault. While the dirt fogged up the already narrow field of view, he could tell they were doing basic fire and manoeuvre. Of the mooks who still stood, three had taken a knee and took to fire either at him or Selenite. Two were advancing uphill towards Selenite. One of the fallen yetis was shooting towards him with a sidearm. The other lied still.

The priority were the ones advancing on Selenite. He floated his gun upwards and angled the mirror for the best view. He’d been in this sort of engagement before, and it had worked then, now just to sort it all out. It took far longer to aim and was much more inaccurate than firing down sights, but he couldn’t dwell on that now. No time for doubt, only action.

He’d unleash burst after burst until he could fire no more.

Selenite flinched with every shot fired at her. Not the sound of the distant guns popping themselves, she’d gotten used to that long ago. It was every time a supersonic bullet cracked like a whip as it flew overhead. Each one promising death, each one meant for her. That she wasn’t used to.

Her chest was tight as a wound vice, the imminent threat of panic and shock filling her. Eyes shut, she focused on her breathing, hugging the rifle. She loosened up the slightest bit.

Then pain raced through the side of her head. A sudden, sharp, shock. She ducked deeper into the sand, some got into her mouth. Sweat trickled down the right side of her head, hot and-

It- It wasn’t sweat.

She wiped her temple with a hoof, bringing the hoof up to her eyes and seeing the leather glove slick with blood.

She’d been shot in the head.

She’d been shot in the head she’d been shot in the head she’d
been shot in-

-the ear. She’d been shot in the ear. It had only gone through the tip of her ear as she winced in pain from the raw nub of it. Okay. If it had penetrated her skull she’d be dead, and definitely wasn’t dead. It hurt like Tartarus, but that just meant she was still alive to feel it.

Minor panic over. Only then did Selenite notice how out of hoof her breathing had gotten.

As long as it didn’t get infected she’d be fine. A problem for much much much later. But the shot served as a lethal reminder, she still had to hunker down to avoid further injuries. Or worse. Had she leaned just that much farther in one direction or another, that bullet would’ve gone through her brain. She tried to focus on controlling her breathing, but adrenaline and panic clutched her up still.

Only for the sound to change. It was subtle, but important. Distant pops of gunfire continued but there was no longer that whip-crack sound of a supersonic bullet whizzing over her head. Whether or not they might be going somewhere else she couldn’t risk exposing herself. Except, she still had a way to “see”.

She clenched her eyes shut and chirruped, as loud and as intense as she could manage. It strained her throat but her one good ear swivelled up and around collecting information abound. Like she was plunging an invisible hoof into water, the returning ripples and waves of infrasound signalled what surrounded her.

The hillside was riddled with motionless storm creatures, none of them advancing, their profiles too low for them to be running or standing. She couldn’t hear well enough to tell if they were dead or merely disabled, but the imminent threat of her foxhole being stormed had been delayed. That must have been Sol’s doing.

But where was Sol?

More chirrups, more intense. There was movement at the jeep, too far away for her to determine what it was. But there was more movement further up the road. Large, hulking movements on either side and advancing towards the jeep. Advancing towards Sol!

Sol had been so focused on shooting whoever was coming up the hill, he hadn’t even looked at the road.

Damn the risks. She dived for the rifle.

When the second mook advancing uphill fell, Sol groaned. By his count, he had about half the mag left, maybe less. He assumed less to be safe, ten rounds maybe, if he was lucky.

He swivelled the mirror back to the point where the staff lay. Only a single mook was firing on him, the yeti with the sidearm keeping up the assault. He considered for a moment whether it was best to finish the yeti off for good, only-

Where were the other two mooks?

He swivelled the mirror around. For a flash, barely a half-second, a mook quickly flicked in and out of the narrow frame. He spun the mirror the other way and saw the exact same thing on the other side. They were coming right at him! One approaching from the left side, another from the right. They must think he can’t shoot in two directions at once.

Except, he could.

The Marechester still held in his magic, he aimed it to the right. All the while he charged additional magic in his horn. He’d aim to get the jump on whoever was coming from the left while suppressing whoever was advancing on the right.

A quick moment to steel himself, then he leapt into action.

The Marechester rattled as he fired towards the right. As the charge of magic built further in his horn, Sol jumped out on the left. Immediately he was face to face with the advancing mook. The hulking behemoth, three times his size, had already raised its rifle. But not far enough. Sol discharged a bolt of energy from his horn.

The bolt struck the mook in the right bicep. Not enough to kill, he didn’t have that kind of magic even if he tried, but more than enough to throw off their aim.

A shot rang out from the mook’s rifle. It harmlessly kicked up a plume of sand someway up the hillside.

Preparing a second strike, Sol took a look at the mook’s weapon. He could probably use it, it-

It was a modified Centavros Type 35. A muzzleloader.

A muzzleloader! They’d given the mook a muzzleloader! A muzzleloader designed seventy years ago! They had one good shot and they just blew it, leaving them with a useless stick! It didn’t even have a bayonet!

Perfect! At least one threat had been temporarily dealt with. Sol had every chance in the world to confront the one advancing on his right.

He spun around on a quick heel turn. He’d just been randomly firing Marechester bursts in that direction to keep them suppressed, and barely had the focus to properly aim or control the bursts. By now his magazine had run empty.

The other hulking mook emerged from behind the jeep. They had an LMG.

Sol very nearly panicked. For a microsecond, his eyes met the mook’s. They were locked onto him with the mechanical precision of a power drill. That gun would rip him to shreds in an instance. Only, the mook was still swaying the weapon up at Sol. If Sol jumped to the left, he’d be directly in their line of fire. If he went right, they’d overaim.

Sol leaped right. The mook fired. A burst of lead passed mere milimeters from his side as he moved. It tore a hole in his saddlebag, feeling like nothing more than wind ripping through the fabric. A further blast of bullets peppered the wreckage of the jeep sounding off with sharp metallic pings.

Sol was now more exposed, but better that than being bullet ridden. The fiery blue light in the mook’s eye sockets burned at Sol. But they had well over aimed, far off to Sol’s left. There was an opening, a narrow opening, where the mook’s gun wasn’t aimed at Sol. Sol’s magic gripped his knife as he prepared to charge.

Except suddenly, a Lilac rifle shot rang out. Specs of blood splattered out from the masks’ eye sockets. The mook barely made a gargle or a whimper before they went limp and crashed into the sand.

Sol staggered on the spot, his purposeful charge robbed of purpose. That shot must have come from Selenite. But at that range, with that rifle, and with mere iron sights? Most experienced rifleponies would struggle to hit that. An incredible shot from the Warmaster.

Then a blunt object struck Sol in the back of the head.

His head went numb and his magic sputtered out. He was still conscious, but thrown to the ground. It was ‘only’ a grazing blow. He rolled onto his back to face his assailant.

The other mook loomed over him, wielding the Centavros like a club.

Right. Not a useless stick.

The mook swung their makeshift club at Sol like a sledgehammer. Sol rolled right as it struck the ground. Narrowly, it missed his head and only threw up sand. Rolling, he bumped into the wrecked jeep. He’d ended up right within the wreck in such a way that the only way out was the way he came.

And only then did he realise he’d cornered himself. Before Sol could react, the mook had already lurched for him with their right hand, going right for his neck. The mook clutched tight and pressed him into the ground. For Sol, it felt like the weight of three other ponies had come down on him at once.

They were strong. Indescribably strong. Their hand was bigger than Sol’s head and they easily overpowered him. Already his breathing was cut off. He couldn’t just lay there and count on any more lucky shots from Selenite. The mook was already choking him out, assuming his neck didn’t break first. Sol’s hind hooves kicked out wildly. His forehooves punched at the mook’s tree-trunk of a forearm. All of it was in vain.

But he still had the knife on his belt. He reached down with his left hoof.

All he felt was the mook’s other hand crashing down onto that hoof, pinning it into the sand. The mook had absolute command over his physical body, and wouldn’t relent until all life had been drained from it. But he still had his horn.

It became harder to focus any energy at all into his horn as the world fell away from him. Darkness crept into his fading sight, like a burning photograph. The only light was from his horn. Weaving its way around the knife in his belt.

His last grip on consciousness, on the world, was on the grip of that combat knife.

And with the last of his strength, he yanked out the knife and slashed.

Then air, light, sensation returned!

Something hot and wet splattered his face. The mook was stumbling back, their left hand clutching their right wrist. Sol must have slit it right open.

Without stopping for a second, Sol jumped to his hooves with the knife in his aura. He lunged at the mook, hacking away at their neck. He stabbed again. And again. And again. And again eleven times more until the mook could barely open its eyes. Only pained groans and grunts came from their mouth, while blood leaked from their mask.

The sight may have made him sick, but no time to dwell. His and Selenite life were still on the line.

The other mook’s LMG still lay in the sand. He picked it up and looked over it for a moment, identifying it as a Wingbardian Greda 30. Definitely not the best weapon, but he was in no position to complain. Any port in a storm and what not.

He lowered himself and held the mirror aloft, flashing a look down the road… What?

There were more mooks now. Four, five? Far away but charging on either side of the road. Must have been another patrol that heard the firefight.

But that wasn’t the end of it. The yeti that had been struggling before had gathered enough strength to get on a knee and switch their side arm for a heavier, automatic weapon. Ducking quickly away, their fire kept Sol firmly suppressed.

From his position he could try to shoot them all down. But if even one got through, it might be the end of him. That last fight was close enough. Couldn’t do much more rough and tumble in the mine ridden sand.

The- The mine ridden sand!

Sol set the Greda onto the jeep. If he controlled the recoil right, it’d spray the road with bullets, certainly striking something.

He held his breath and let the bullets loose.

The road erupted into a furious cascade of thumping explosions. One after the other, sand and fire burst from the ground. It rocked Selenite’s ears and blocked her sight. She ducked deeper into the dirt.

Selenite wondered, had every mine gone off at once? As the echoing rumble of the explosions fell away and the ringing in her ears receded, she noticed the rattle of gunfire had died too. She cautioned a peek over the edge of the foxhole. Thick clouds of smoke and sand still hung in over the road, forming a barrier impenetrable to light.

A yeti burst from the clouds, a machine gun in their hands. Marching in a straight line for Selenite.

Selenite’s breath hitched. But she didn’t panic. She raised her rifle and squeezed the trigger. Smoke and fire burst from the other end as the butt punched her shoulder, her teeth clenching from the pain.

And all for nought. She completely missed her shot. The yeti advanced.

Staying off panic, she grunted as she cycled the bolt without lowering the gun. Aiming again, she took a breath to aim better and squeezed. Except… Nothing. All she heard was a high-pitched dink. Out of bullets!

The yeti advanced.

She slipped deeper into the foxhole, head only barely protected by the ground. She snatched up the bags Sol had left with her. She practically tore it open and spilled out the contents in search of bullets. She dug through little bits and pieces, quickly finding one rifle round.

The yeti advanced.

She fumbled as she pulled back the bolt, juggling the round as loaded the bullet into the rifle, and slammed the bolt closed. This one shot would have to count.

The yeti had arrived.

Her eyes went up before her rifle did. And she was staring down the barrel of an enemy machine gun.

Eyes clenched shut, she’d braced for the imminent agony.

And the rattle of automatic gunfire broke loose.

All froze.

Silence followed.

But the expected end never arrived.

Still feeling her heart pounding like a war drum, she knew she was still alive. The dirt and sand still pressed against her backside while thick beads of sweat rolled down her blood soaked face, she knew she’d been spared.

Hesitantly, she cracked one eye open, her sight blurry and vision blocked as her wings were up to shield her.

Parting her wings and gazing through the haze and the darkness, she caught a glimpse of the yeti staggering. Before she’d even managed to register it, its massive form crumbled down towards her, forcing her to roll out of the way. The collapse whipped up a gust of sand stinging her face and forcing her eyes shut again.

When she blinked her eyes open again the yeti lay motionless before her, its weapon sticking out of the sand. Through the abrupt silence, the faint patter of hoofsteps reached her ears, growing louder with each heartbeat. She brought her eyes up.

At last Sol crested the hill, his stance weary but triumphant and his chest heaving with exertion. His face, slick with sweat, shone in the dim light. He carried an LMG in his arcane grasp, its barrel still smouldering, sending ghostly tendrils of smoke curling into the air.

Adrenaline was the only thing keeping Sol upright, like an electrical current surging through his veins. Relief washed over him as he saw Selenite mostly unharmed. A nick in her ear, but whatever, nothing fatal. Had he been a moment late she’d have been killed, no question. He didn’t want to think about that. Yet he didn’t need to think about that. There she was, as safe as she could be.

Sinking into the foxhole, Selenite exhaled deeply as her weapon dropped to the side. Her face was slick with sweat and bright with a blush. Through ragged, shaky breaths, a smile spread across her face as her legs and wings sprawled out, like the flower of a cactus blooming amidst this desolate landscape. There she lay, undefended and at his mercy.

The silent invitation sent an electric shock through him. His tail stood stiff on end, nearly sticking straight upright. The adrenaline hadn’t worn off and the air between them crackled with magnetic tension. It took more effort to stay still. It was obvious what she wanted him to do. Needed him to do it. Hell, he needed the same thing.

Not breaking eye contact for a heartbeat, he tossed the Greda to the side.

“Agh, screw it.”

He pounced like a tiger. Upon landing their lips locked in a kiss.

After countless, breathless heartbeats with their muzzles pressed together, Sol pulled away, leaving Selenite blushing a fierce crimson.

She lunged forward, capturing his lips again with a fiery urgency. As they kissed, her wings wrapped around him, pulling him closer. His tongue wrapped around hers, hers around his, deepening their embrace as the world around them dissolved into nothing but the heat of their passion. Without breaking the kiss, Sol brought his hind legs up. Instinct replaced thought. He was already kicking off his boots. His magic gripped his-

“Uhh, Warmaster?”

Both Selenite and Sol froze at the unfamiliar voice. Selenite turned her head, causing Sol to pull away and look back.

A thestral soldier stood just outside the foxhole, all on their own. Their wide stare was only interrupted by frequent short blinks. Not even their tail was flicking. In the dark it was hard to tell they were anything more than a statue.

“W-what are you doing here!?” Selenite suddenly barked, voice full of indignation. “You’re heading into a heavy enemy presence!”

“We’re, um, looking for you, Ma’am.” The soldier pawed at the sand. “You were reported MIA. I heard a firefight and investigated.”

Now it was Selenite’s turn to freeze. “...Oh. Of course.” She cleared her throat. “Excellent work, Private!”

Selenite rolled onto her front as Sol stepped aside. Once she'd stood up, Selenite dusted her jacket off. The lone soldier extended their hoof to assist Selenite. She took it, only to pause and hit him with a fierce stare. The soldier recoiled as Selenite spoke in a tone harsh enough to sand down steel. “And everything you just saw is completely classified.”