Chapters Twilight Sparkle sat in a first-class train car.
The rhythmic sound of the train rattling over the rails and the gentle shaking of the carriage was almost hypnotic. If she were to lean her head against the large window to her left, she would have probably fallen asleep at some point. The fact that she was also almost alone in the cart and that it was completly silent amplified the relaxing experience.
Only she and her dragon assistant and adopted brother Spike were enjoying the luxurious interior of the first-class. They had the entire wagon for themselves. But none of them paid the and masterfully crafted but vastly decadent wooden decorations on the walls and banks or the beautiful carpet with its golden ornamentation on the floor any mind. Luxury had become the norm for them ever since Celestia had taken Twilight under her wing.
Spike looked out one of the huge windows and Twilight read the newspaper.
"… which adds to the sum of incidents and makes a total of five ponies going missing without a trace in only the last three weeks. The regional population is deeply concerned. Who causes these mysterious disappearances? Why do they do it? Who will be next? Have the shapeshifting monsters beyond the western frontier anything to do with it? Can the army or guard protect us and when will the princesses intervene? We have spoken with..."
Twilight sighed and put the newspaper away. “All these years later, and the press is still trying to stir up fear about the changelings. The western frontier is a dangerous strip of land. Ponies going missing is tragic, but doesn’t immediately indicate an imminent invasion of Chrysalis. Maybe they have just gotten into trouble with one of the gangs.”
Spike nodded slightly. Twilight was right, the west was not known for its safety.
“Didn’t you girls and the guards defeat all of them back then in Canterlot?” asked Spike, without looking away from the window.
“This depends on how you define the word 'defeat'.” Twilight rubbed her chin, visibly in thought, the events of the battle replaying in her mind once again. “We forced them out of Canterlot and over the mountains, but then we lost track of them. I still wonder if the survivors made it back to wherever they came from. Their leader seemed determined enough to find a way back. Speaking of them, if they made it back, and what we defeated was indeed not all of changeling kind, we could have a serious problem.”
“Why is that? I thought changelings are just a bunch of mindless drones following Chrysalis’ orders,” said Spike, finally averting his eyes from the window and the passing landscape. "Yeah, they are many, but nothing the RTDH and your tactical genius couldn’t deal with."
“That’s the thing. I am not sure about that,” said Twilight, too deep in her own thoughts to react to Spikes compliment. “I doubt that those who persisted in Canterlot had a psychological connection to Chrysalis, like the hivemind of the others. Why would they change their behavior and tactics so suddenly?. Before that they fought in big swarms but after Shining and Cadence blasted a majority of them plus their queen away, they started to act as small units or even as lone fighters. They bunkered down in every building. Their fanatic endurance ruined almost all of Canterlot.”
Spike watched Twilight's monologue in silence. He was used to her talking about the thing she thought about, so he patiently waited for her to finish. By listening to her monologuing alone, Spike had learned a lot about how Twilight's mind worked.
“You know what?” Twilight asked, but before Spike could say anything she continued, “In the beginning i thought we were fighting a single entity in form of a hivemind, but the more I think about it. I think they heavily remind me of our own forces with their tactics, cohesion and spirit. They stole our guns and copied our tactics. Sadly, we couldn’t take a single prisoner. None of them ever gave up or surrendered. In retrospective, it is kind of inspiring to think about with how much devotion they fought a battle they knew they couldn’t win. They would make a great ally if we somehow got to negotiate with them.”
Spike rose an eyebrow. Maybe Twilight was getting a little to fascinated by the beings that literally seeked to destroy Equestria and harmony as a concept.
“But let me return to your question. I believe that they will rebuild their forces and use all the experience they earned while fighting us to adjust their tactics and strategies. Plus, all the guns they acquired. It wouldn’t surprise me if they tried to replicate them. The idea of a whole swarm armed with these weapons is actually terrifying," said Twilight, her voice cold, calculating and empty of emotion, not sounding terrified at all. "And what if they developed their tactics beyond swarms? In the last month of the battle, i recall that clearly, they had organized in way smaller groups, imitating our squads."
Twilight fell silent. She looked like she wanted to say so much more, but her lips stayed closed. The countless thoughts within her head staying hidden from the world. Spike looked her into the eyes, but her eyes were focused on something only she could see, somewhere far away.
"I still think we should have tried to track them and locate the place of their origin,” she concluded suddenly.
“Wait, you didn’t?”
Twilight shook her head.
“No, Celestia specifically instructed me not to. The few hundred survivors were not worth the effort. Aside from that, Canterlot was in ruins. We had other priorities,” Twilight explained. The princesses had tried their best to swipe the whole affair under the oversized, with gold decorated, carpet after the battle, and although Twilight was not as furious about it anymore, she still thought about what could all have happened if she had been allowed to track the bugs down.
“Why don’t you try now? Your alicorn magic would surely still be enough to find their trails, even after all the time that passed ” said Spike and grabbed the newspaper Twilight had put away.
“I could most definitely find them. The question is, do i really want to find them? I thought about this a lot. What if they have a remotely state like structure? They will undoubtedly see it as a declaration of war if we just walk in on what they see as their territory, uninvited. No no, it will be better if we just leave them alone. They should have learned their lesson not to mess with us. No need to provoke a war over mere curiosity.”
Spike raised an eyebrow again. Twilight, a pony that, if it was not already the element of magic, could easily be the element of curiosity, saying “no” to investigating something completly new. Well yes, she was more interested in magic than foreign cultures, but from what Spike knew about the changelings, they were masters of combat and disguise magic. "Your command over the Royal Taskforce for Defending Harmony has really changed you," said Spike, his voice sounding a little sad.
"Since Canterlot, everything just keeps changing, and not for the better," the young dragon muttered.
“Oh look, there is Canterlot. We should be arriving there soon,” Twilight said, ignoring Spike completely and pointed out the window at a mountain chain in the distance. The golden roofs of the majestic city reflected the sunlight and made the city visible from afar.
“You still haven’t told me why the princesses ordered you back so suddenly,” said Spike, changing topic.
“Because it wasn’t the princesses that called me back to Canterlot,” said Twilight casually.
Spike dropped the newspaper and stared at her with wide eyes and open mouth. “We left the post and mission given to us by princess Celestia herself, by the order of someone who is not Celestia?” he said loudly.
“I wouldn’t say order. It was rather a request.”
“A request?” The little dragon was completely confused. What kind of request, and from what pony, would cause Twilight of all ponies to disobey Celestia´s command?
Twilight nodded.
“From whom?” Spike continued to ask. He couldn’t wrap his head around why they were on their way to Canterlot.
“The army high command asked me to come.”
“But none of them stand over-” Spike was interrupted by Twilight raising a finger, ordering him to fall silent.
“They asked me to come because the relation between Celestia and Luna is deteriorating. Apparently, arguments and fights between them have grown in frequency without any apparent reasooooon.” Twilight stretched the last syllable out as her face froze for a moment.
“Twilight? Are you alright?” asked Spike concerned.
Twilight´s eyes darted from Canterlot castle in the distance and the newspaper on Spikes lap.
“Spike, I think we need to keep our eyes peeled. Something´s brewing.”
Author's Note
I finally decided to share my work of the last two years with the world. Constructive criticism and opinions are greatly appreciated. Because english is not my native tongue, grammatical errors could occur, so please tell me if you find any so i can fix them. More chapters are already written and will be published once i am happy with them.
Chapter 2 First contact
After reading aloud the proclamation of the queen, General von Stechen had a few words of his own to say. Twenty-one thousand pairs of eyes of drones and officers were directed at him, and an equally vast number of ears listened captivated.
Except the booming sound of the generals’ voice, there was complete silence. The drones even breathed as silent as they possibly could, just to hear every word, yes even every breath the general took. They were nervous and excited.
“Our nations, your brothers, our people, and our Queen count on you. They count on all of us. They believe in us. They trust us. The world has directed its spotlights upon us. Now we shall show the world our strength. Never again shall we endure starvation. Never again shall we be excluded and forgotten. We will secure our place under the sun! For the fatherland, into battle!” General von Stechen shouted and pointed in a powerful motion eastward.
There was a short moment of silence until the drones realized he was done. Then, the crowd broke out in cries of cheers and rejoice on a deafening volume, abruptly ending the silence. Their shouts roared over the plain landscape. A large portion of the crowd took off their helmet to threw them into the air.
“Gott mit uns!”
“Long live the queen!”
“Hurrah!”
These and other things the frenzied crowd cried out.
49, much like all of his brothers, rejoiced like a madling. His heart thumped quicker than it ever had been in his entire life. He could not believe what he just heard. For years they had been taught what terrible things the ponies had done to them, and now he and his brothers had the chance to avenge all of it. They had the chance to overthrow Equestria and make the changeling empire a world power or even the dominant power of all of whole planet. They had the chance to change their entire world.
This fanatic euphory lasted a few minutes until it started to subside.
While the drones calmed down, officers hurried through the ranks and orders were given. Shortly after, the marching blocks set into motion and the military band of the division started playing.
So this is why they set us up in parade formation, 49 thought.
Due to military tradition, the march the band played started with a foreplay of fifes and drums. While this played, the marching blocks first marched away from the platform Von Stechen stood on only to turn around. After they did an U turn, they marched past right in front of the grandstand. Right as the first block was about to reach the platform the foreplay ended and the drones started to do the parade step. The knee joints of the drones seemingly disappeared.
With stiff knees, the parade swung by their general and his staff who saluted them. In the corner of his eye, 49 could see a changelings standing next to Von Stechen. The changeling did not wear an uniform, and he wielded a strange device, directed at them. 49 did not know what to think of this, but he would certainly not turn his head to get a better look.
The ground vibrated under their steps. The rows of helmets bopped in rhythm to the music. The so-called goose step has always had a ceremonial role and elegance. But on parades, when such huge masses of soldiers marched, it lacked any kind of elegance. Grace yielded to a militaristic boasting and showing off of power and discipline.
The changelings were good at marching. Hooves exact 30 centimeter off the ground and the arm oposite to the not moving leg bent in in an angle that their hands reached up to their belt buckle.
As the block 49 was in marched past the staff of their division, 49 could only imagine the spectacles that had to be happening in the larger hives and cities. With music and hurray but without knowing what would be awaiting them, the drones marched off to war.
SD8749 and other soldiers of the 7. company laid prone behind the ridge of a large hill. The others took cover behind trees and other natural obstacles, a few meters behind them. In front of them was nothing but plain field, and somewhere in it, the enemy. Bullets whistled over their heads.
Things had not gone as 49 had imagined.
49 pressed himself against the ground, trying to make himself as flat as possible, to not reach over the hill he used as cover while bullets hit the dirt in front of him with high frequency. Every impact caused a small fountain of dirt, increasingly covering the changeling with earth, as the hailstorm of bullets went on and on. The bullets that missed the ridgeline and flew over him created an ear-piercing whistle.
He clenched his teeth and tightened the grip around his rifle.
“Argh!” A scream suddenly coming from his left caught 49's attention. He looked to where the scream came from and saw SD8752 cramp on the ground. His back had peaked over the edge and a bullet had tore it open. The drones left and right of SD8752 tried to pin their brother to the ground, so that he was not able turn around, to prevent the wound from getting dirty and infecting. SD8752 screamed. It were no words, just primal sounds of agony.
It was not a deep wound, the bullet had merely grazed him, but it created a long flesh wound that cut and bared many nerfs.
49 tried to look away. Seeing his brother in agony like this, his uniform drenching slowly green with blood, sent a shiver down his spine, and he imagined himself in his position. It stirred the fire of hatred for the ponies that burned inside of him.
Every second, 49 expected a bullet to come and pierce his skull, ending the war for him here and now. Any moment now. But no bullet found him. They either flew past him, or hit the ground in front of him, and the tension persisted.
All these years 49 had thought that he did not know fear, but the current situation tried its best to shake his believes. He felt helpless. Enduring under fire waiting for the order to attack was grueling. If they would just got the order to jump up and attack the cowardly ponies. He was not afraid of dying. But he could not bear doing nothing while being shot at.
“I hate machine guns,” 49 growled. “Where did they even get this from? He told us this was an underequipped, barely trained garrison!”
Shortly after crossing the border, the 8. battalion had quickly been engaging in combat. On their way into equestrian lands the unit came close to a small settlement. Hauptman Vicis ordered to march straight through the village and continue the advance into Equestria as planned. But the village had a garrison. In a briefing before the attack, the drones were told that the only defenders there were a small local garrison, not more than 90 ponies strong. Vicis had expected them to immediately surrender as soon as the superior force was approaching.
However, in spite the fact they were clearly outnumbered and outgunned, the small garrison decided to fight for and defend every meter of their homeland. When the battle broke out, the 7. company got separated from the rest of the unit. Chaos ensued.
Despite the so called “Auftragstaktik”, the officers acted stunned. Hauptman Vicis had not given them any clear objectives and the officers had trouble dealing with their newfound responsibility, especially now, that lives were depending on it. Especially their own.
49 could not find SD8750 anywhere in the chaos, and as if that wasn’t already bad enough, they had also ran head on in a preventive prepared defensive position of the ponies.
The first platoon was immediately pinned down by overwhelming enemy fire. Cover was sparse, it was almost an open field. The drones dove for cover in whatever small hollows they could find or behind small ground elevations. The other two platoons that were further behind them took cover behind trees, rocks and bushes of a nearby grove.
The blood of those who could not get into cover in time or were just unlucky now fertilized the golden grass.
The leader of 49´s company ordered them to hold, what they did.
Even with their years of training and preparation, when it actually happened, 49 did not know how to deal with seeing the brothers he knew so well being gunned down in front of him. He could only swallow the weird feeling, hoping it would go away.
SD8752 had stopped screaming, now he was just pitifully weeping. A knot started to form in 49´s chest. Only the thought that all of this and what would come was for the freedom of their race and their fatherland gave him determination.
TING. With this bright sound, the helmet of one of the drones trying to comfort SD8752 was flung away and the head of the drone dropped to the ground. Blood began to spread around it.
49 hands began to hurt from cramping onto his rifle. He tried to focus on anything else, just not on all the lead in the air. At least the grass was comfortable, he noticed.
The rattling of the machine gun and the cracking of rifles did not cease.
As the machine gun finally stopped firing to reload, 49 dared to raise his head over the ridge to look out for SD8750. He had to take his head down again immediately as rifles opened up on him. There was no way out. But to his fortune, he did not share the fate of his brother.
49 prayed that 50 just accidently followed the wrong unit and that he would return to them. 49 did not dare to imagine what else could all have happened to his comrade, especially since he had the injured 52 next to him. And a corpse.
To his relieve, even behind his cover, he spotted four drones running towards them as fast as their legs could carry them. Please 50, be one of them! he thought. The machine gun crew was still reloading. If they got close enough during the ceasefire, the four had a chance.
The rifles were firing at them, but they ran in a zigzag, dodging the bullets.
“Get Down!” yelled 49 over to them as loud as he could. He mentally counted down the seconds until the machine gun crew would have reloaded. The longer the four were out there, the bigger the chance grew they would soon join their fallen brothers.
The distance between the four incoming drones and slightly more cover got smaller and smaller, as did the time until the ponies had reloaded.
50! 49 thought. There was no way that he could have recognize his ID on that distance, but his instinct told him. His friend was one of the four.
The rattle of the machine gun broke the tension in two.
The four immediately dove towards the ground, but it was too late. The last one of them got rocked by the impact of bullets. No creature heard him scream, the sound of gun fire was too loud. As he slowly sank to the ground, the fire ceased for a moment, and they could hear him moan. In a dying state, he chanted moaning, “Changelingia over everything!”
He sank to his knees, before his bloody body fell over and his face sunk into the golden grass which quickly turned a dark green shade.
“This is bad, not good, absolutely terrible,” stated Oberleutnant Herus, the leader of their company who laid to 49´s right.
“SD8750, -8711, -8790 reporting back! I’ve got orders from Hauptman Vicis,” 50 yelled over the whistling of bullets. He had been crawling over to them with the other two, “he said we have to break through their defenses.”
Oberleutnant Herus was a normal changeling who enlisted for service as officer. That was pretty obvious by his body alone, but there was also something else. Unlike the drones, he was enveloped by an aura of worry and terror, and he made no attempt to hide it. His hands, clamping around his saber, were trembling uncontrollably. His eyes were wide open and looked like he was looking at something in the far distance.
“Wow, what an innovative idea. Why didn’t I come up with this?” Herus mumbled loud and sarcastically. “Any equally bright ideas how to accomplish this?” His voice was tense and nervous.
49 laid his head sideways on the ground too look over to Herus without exposing himself. The Oberleutnant looked sick. What he said sounded way braver than he looked. If he were to throw up, 49 would not have been surprised. But nothing happened.
Without further words, 50 pulled a grenade from his belt and screwed off the safety cap.
The Oberleutnant understood, seemingly seized with new zest for action. “Not exactly cunning, but what other choice do we have?”
“Frontal assault…. Oh well,” Herus muttered, accepting his fate. "I enlisted, there is no way back now."
“Vorbereiten zum Sturm!” he screamed. “Erster Zug, prepare grenades!”
As ordered, 49 got ready for an assault. He pulled his bayonet from its scabbard and attached it to his rifle. That was not so easy. The bayonet was probably 30cm long and he did not have much space to maneuver. The clicking sounds of bayonet snaping into position could be heard all around him.
“On my sign,” Herus bellowed.
When he gave the sign, a dozen drones ripped the fuse cord out of their grenades and hurled them towards the enemy with all power.
Thanks to the innate strength of the drones, they had no problem throwing the grenade all the way over to the with wood and sandbags fortified, trench-like defenses.
When the grenades detonated, 49 could not hear anything but a ringing in his ears. It hurt. His vision shook and he narrowed his eyes.
As soon as the Oberleutnant heard the explosions, he jumped out of his cover and shouted with his saber pointed towards the enemy, “Forward, Kameraden! For the fatherland!”
49 only heard muffled sounds, barely managing to make out words. The ringing had been replaced by a loud beeping sound. But it was not difficult to guess what Herus was saying.
"Hurrah!" he screamed as he got up and dashed towards the ponies.
His brothers got out of their cover as well. With chants of hurrahs, they charged behind their officer headlong towards the enemy without fear. They were in their element, fulfilling the most honorable duty to the fatherland. This is what they were born for.
The remaining pony soldiers that hid behind what was left of their fortifications stuck their heads out again. Left and right of 49, his brothers began getting gunned down as the ponies reopened fire.
Bullets flew past 49. A few came way too close for comfort. If there was any comfort in being shot at in the first place.
While running, 49 briefly glanced to his left. He saw 50, dodging the collapsing body of a drone in front of him and then jumping over an already dead body. 49 looked forward again just in time to see how the drone in front of him received a hit to the head and his helmet being flung away. He managed to catch the collapsing drone without falling over himself. While holding the dead drone, 49 immediately recognized him as SD8748, his older brother. The shock of seeing his brother, that he mere hours ago heard lively arguing, in this state, hit 49 like a punch to the face. He stared into 48´s lifeless, still and glassy eyes. And he saw the gruesome hole in his brothers's forehead before he pushed the body away from him. There was nothing he could do for him now.
With a thud the body of his brother hit the ground.
They were now so close to the enemy that they could look into the trench. They stopped and opened fire onto the remaining defenders cowering inside the trench.
The ponies fired back at them with everything they had, but it was not enough to stop the overwhelming numbers. What little was left of the defenders in the first trench was annihilated within seconds. Shot to shreds by the fire of the changeling's rifles.
49 raised his rifle, aimed at the first pony he saw and pulled the trigger. He did not hesitate for a even second. Rage took over his mind.
The bullet penetrated the pony´s throat. The green coated pony with a dark grey mane gurgled on its own blood as it flooded its mouth and throat. Crimson red came out of its mouth as it tried to cover the wound by pressing its hands on it. But it was to no avail. Blood slipped through its fingers, the pony could not hold it in. The pony’s breath became hectic, and its eyes screamed in panic before it fainted.
While the pony died, its comrades met a similar fate.
A cry sounded. Another group of ponies rushed from the town to reinforce their flank.
49 did not know whether this counterattack was bravery or stupidity, but he did not particularly care. The ponies where no match for them. They lagged the numbers, the training, even the equipment to make the fight even remotely fair. 49 even saw a pony wielding a spear instead of a rifle.
As soon as he noticed the approaching ponies, Oberleutnant Herus waved about with his saber and screamed, “Zum Angriff!”
Although the decision to go into a brawl with the ponies was questionable, given they had an already prepared trench right next to them, noone hesitated.
“Hurra!” one of the drones started to chant.
“Hurra!” the other drones yelled as well and ran towards the ponies.
“For Celestia!” the ponies replied.
As the two mobs got closer to each other, the biggest difference between the two armies got visible. The Equestrian army was a colorful, mixed force. They had everything, stallions, mares, unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies in all different colors and sizes. The changelings however were the complete opposite. They all looked alike: same frame, same face, same color and towering over the average pony. Only their officer varied in size and appearance.
As 49 was only a few meters away from the ponies he halted, raised his rifle and shot at the first pony that crossed his sights. With a scream and a thud, the pony hit the ground. Around him, the forces united, and the slaughter began.
While 49 struggled to push the bolt of his rifle back into firing position to fire again, he noticed a figure in the corner of his eye that quickly came closer. He turned to face whatever was running at him. It was a unicorn. A member of the physically weakest pony tribe.
This peculiar brave unicorn with an obvious tendency for making bad decision charged at 49 who stood still, yanking at the bolt handle of his rifle. When it was close enough the unicorn raised its rifle, ready to ram its bayonet deep into the changeling’s heart. However, 49 was expected this. When the pony stabbed, he used the stock of his own rifle to push the attack to the left and away from him, leading the stab into nothing.
The pony, confused by the fact the changeling had fended off the attack and still in full motion, stumbled a step forward and almost lost balance for a second. This was 49's window of opportunity. Exploiting the short yet decisive confusion of the pony, 49 attacked before the unicorn could react. He raised his rifle, turned it around and thrusted forward, hitting the unicorn with his rifles´ butt.
The impact has crucial. Although he did not properly aim, 49 hit the pony directly on the snout.
The cracking sound the pony’s nose made on impact was disgusting. Luckily it was almost completely drowned out by the chaos of gunfire, screaming and the sounds of melee combat.
The pony cried out in pain, stumbling backwards before losing its balance and falling on its back. There, the pony kept laying, crying and holding its bleeding and visibly deformed snout.
49 saw his opportunity to strike. He quickly stepped up to the pony and turned his rifle again, this time with the breech aimed at the defenseless opponent on the ground. But he did not shoot. That would have been a wasted bullet. Instead, he thrusted his rifle down with all the force he could muster.
The unicorn on the ground, like all the other pony soldiers, was wearing a thin metal chest plate, bearing the national emblem of Equestria in shining gold, over its otherwise brown uniform. This pathetic piece of “armor” maybe could have blinded the changeling with reflecting light but did a very poor job protecting the wearer from a lethal attack to the chest.
First, the sharp steel blade of 49´s bayonet penetrated the thin metal plate with ease, then it sliced through the fabric of the uniform and at last cut deep into the soft flesh of the pony.
The pony cried out in pain, then it tried to curl up on the ground, spitting and coughing blood. 49 did his best trying not to shiver at that miserable sight. He tried to pull his bayonet back out, but it did not move.
Yanking frantically at his rifle, 49 had to realize that it was to avail. It was stuck in the pony’s ribs. He braced his hoof on the pony´s stomach and tried again. This time, with the help of his hoof, the bayonet came out.
“Aargh,” he heard the pony cry and whimper. Without hesitation, 49 rammed his rifle down again, this time into the pony´s stomach and the screams of the pony died away.
As 49 pulled his bayonet back out of the dead body with full force, the blade was followed by a fountain of blood. SD8749 looked down on his body and saw that the blood of the pony had stained his uniform and claws red.
This small fight felt like it lasted at least a minute, but in reality, it had just been a few seconds. By then, the two groups had completely mixed and a fight to the death had broken out.
But before 49 could even begin to comprehend what just happened, his instincts told him that something was coming at him from behind. 49 reacted quickly. Trusting his instincts, he stayed where he was, with his back to the enemy and then rammed his rifle backwards with the right timing, sinking the stock deep into the stomach of a new opponent.
The pony bend over as a sudden wave of pain rolled over its nervous system, but it managed to stay on its hooves.
49 turned around. He had no time to aim. He held his rifle about the height of his hip and simply aligned the barrel with the pony’s head. While the pony tried to comprehend what just happened, 49 was already squeezing the trigger, putting a bullet between the eyes of his opponent.
The crack of his rifle went down in the noise of battle, but the mess this shot created did certainly not went by unnoticed. While the bullet made just a small hole entering the skull, it made a way bigger one on the other end where it left.
Blood, brain and bone shards all burst out of the back of the pony´s head like a geyser, creating a red-grayish puddle on the ground. The force of impact of the bullet had shattered a large portion of the back of the pony´s head and flung the pieces everywhere. The unfortunate changeling that happened to stand right behind that pony not only had to witness but was also hit by parts of the pony. He looked like he was about to faint.
Just seconds later, the pony fell over and hit the ground face down with a dull sound. It fell so convenient that 49 got a good look at what he did to the pony and what was left inside the its head. It was a sight 49 could have done without. Even on the ground blood was still flowing out of the large hole.
In a slight state of shook, 49 heard a voice yelling, “Forward! They are retreating.”
He was, to be honest, quite happy to move on. They continued their advance right into the heart of the small settlement.
The few ponies that had managed to flee from combat now tried to retreat out of the town. Although, “retreating”, was quite frankly the wrong word. Desperately trying to get out of there alive described it way better.
To their misfortune, escaping was something the changelings could not allow them. “Don’t let anypony escape or they´ll tell Sunbutt that we are coming!” Herus ordered.
Thus, the ruthless soldiers gunned down everything that tried to leave the town, whether it wore a uniform or not.
The smell of panic, despair and fear hung heavily over the town. It was everywhere. It smelled disgusting.
The remaining population of the small village had locked themselves up in their houses as soon as they had heard the first shots being fired, but that did not stop the changelings. As soon as they entered the settlement, they searched through every house for eventual hiding enemies. Groups of five soldiers each breached the doors and combed through every building, from the basement to the attic.
49 kicked in a door, and his group stormed into the building. It was an ordinary house. There was nothing special about it.
Inside was an entire family. The faces of the ponies inside were terrified. Nopony moved. One elderly mare even fainted right away. The changelings heard steps above them and rushed up the stairs. On the second floor they found a soldier hiding in a small back room. The soldier cowered even deeper into a corner of the room after the changelings broke open the door .
Just as 49 was about to shoot the pony, a way smaller pony came seemingly out of nowhere, ran over to the soldier and took a protecting position in front of him.
“Don´t you dare to hurt my brother! If you want him, you´ll have to get me first.” The pony yelled with a very high-pitched voice.
49 was more than just mildly confused. Why is this pony so small? What is it doing? But those questions did not stop him from carrying out his orders. Okay, if that´s what you want. He thought as he raised his rifle again. This time aiming at the smaller pony. The tiny pony swallowed and closed its eyes but held its ground.
Mere milliseconds before SD8749 pulled the trigger, he was stopped by someling rudely pushing his rifle upwards.
“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” a very, very angry Herus shouted directly into 49's ear.
The Oberleutnant together with three drones had entered the house too without 49 noticing. The three drones carried the small pony away which struggled against their strong grip and Herus glared furious at a confused 49. “What were you doing here, soldier?!”
49 stood at attention. “I was following my orders; clearing the object of hostile forces,” he responded mechanically. That was the only way to react he knew at the moment.
Herus first glared at 49 then at the Equestrian soldier behind him. One of the other drones in the room raised his rifle and the pony’s eyes went wide.
A shot rang.
“No, what you were about to do is killing a civilian,” said Herus, completely ignoring the dead body in the corner, the bloody stain on the wall, the cries from next door and the sobbing from bellow. “That was never part of your orders. You were about to execute a child. God damn it, soldier. A child.”
49 did not understand.
“I did not know, Herr Oberleutnant,” 49 said, trying to defend his actions. He was confused. Of course, he knew that they needed the civilians as love resource, but the pony was trying to defend an enemy combatant what made it also an enemy.
“Of course, you couldn´t,” Herus mumbled. “You have never seen a child. Your training did not include dealing with the ponies' stupidity.”
“Remember this, chisel it into your brain and tell your brothers; ponies about this size or smaller,” Herus said, showing the size he meant with his free hand, “are children. Children, like grubs. We don´t kill children for no reasons, got that? They are the most valuable love sources.”
49 clicked with his heels and slightly raised his chin. “Jawohl, Herr Oberleutnant.”
“Good,” Herus said and gave his escort a sign to follow him out of the building.
The rest of the purge went by without any more incidents. Buildings were entered, ponies were shocked and escaping soldiers shot.
It all went really fast. 49 did not have the time to think about or comprehend anything. He just strictly did what he was told, hoping, trusting his superiors knew what they were doing.
After the last remaining defenders got eradicated and peace returned to the village, at least to some extent, the 7. company rejoined the rest of the 8. battalion. Hauptmann Vicis let the changelings counted their numbers to calculate casualties; 50 soldiers killed in action and 32 wounded. Almost a fourth of their whole unit after just one fight. Upon hearing these numbers, Hauptmann Vicis´s facial expression went through multiple emotions over the span of only a brief moment.
49 could see him saying something to himself, but he could not hear what it was.
“The wounded will stay here. They will be cared for by the incoming reinforcements,” he explained before anyling could ask, “As the queen’s plan envisages, we will continue our advance eastward as the spearhead of our regiment, straight towards Canterlot. We won’t stop for anything.”
The drones just stood there and looked at him, unsure how to react.
“I´m not- that severely insured,” moaned SD8752, who was supported by two drones and had an improvised bandage around his Back where he had been hit. “I can still fight.”
“No, Kamerad,” said Vicis, “You need rest and medical attention. But I promise you will be back at the front with us in no time.”
SD8752 looked disappointed but did not object as he got carried away to the other wounded.
“What are you waiting for?” Vicis barked, but his voice trembled noticeably. He could not hide it. “Into formation, we are leaving!”
The murmurs that had been going through the crowd abruptly ended and the soldiers hurrying into formation.
From where he stood, 49 could see how the Hauptmann took off his cap and kneaded his face with his free hand. Then he pulled his hand down his face and swallowed visible. 49 did not understand why Vicis behaved so different all of the sudden. Vicis had always been the iron leader with a plan, but at the moment he seemed rather helpless and lost. Maybe even desperate.
49 looked around further. The forming column was way smaller than usual. The war had already taken a noticeable toll on the 8. battalion. 49 wondered what their ranks would look like after a week, a month or even a year. He hoped this war would not take that long.
“Im Gleichschritt, marsch!”
The column of drones left the pony settlement like nothing ever happened, leaving a devastated village, a traumatized population and a big pile of bodies behind. As they marched off on an unpaved road that led eastwards and into a forest, 49's mind got clear all of the sudden. It felt like he just stepped out of a dense fog, as if he regained control over his actions and mind. He began to comprehent what happened. 49 began to realize that he did not really control or think about anything he had done while fighting. Everything he had done had been somewhat intuitive. As if he was controlled by instincts, he did not know he possessed. Suddenly he began to comprehend what just happened.
In the fight he did not have the time to think about it, but now 49 had to realize that brothers of his were now gone forever. And it had never been impossible for him to be one of them. And he had killed. For the first time in his life. They had been trained for it for their whole lifes, but the real thing was diffrent. The real enemy shoots back.
49 had lost a lot of brothers in past hour and he did not know what to think of it. On the one hand he knew that they died for the fatherland, but on the other hand he had trouble accepting the fact that they were actually gone. Forever. Gone for the greater good of their country and race but gone nonetheless.
He did not feel sad for any of them. Dying while fighting for queen and country was nothing less than their duty. The only emotion he felt was anger. An anger, tight like a knot and hot like lead out of a gun, resting deep inside his chest. An anger directed at those who had taken his brother's lifes and at those that threatened his home. He had felt nothing when pulling the trigger or stabbing with his bayonet except for a morbid feeling of satisfaction and revenge for his fallen brothers.
To 49´s left marched 50, determination firmly occupying his face. 49 wished he could know what was happening in the heads of his brothers right now. He wanted to know what they thought about the whole situation and if he was the only one who could not bring up any emotions other than blunt hate over the death of their brethren and friends. Would he have felt differently if it had hit 50? And what was with the dead ponies? All he felt for them was contempt.
He shook off these thoughts. Defending their country required sacrifice. He was probably still in a state of shock from the fighting. He would need some time to get things sorted out. Too bad, chatting while marching or fighting was forbidden.
Author's Note
Second chapter and my first try at writing combat scenes. I hope you enjoyed it.
They marched on for hours, onwards, deeper and deeper into Equestrian territory.
Vicis, who marched in front of the column, raised his voice at some point, “Remember, we are the front. Behind us lays our beloved fatherland and in front of us is the colorful horde. Our Heer is the only thing standing between our home, our people, everything we love and the pony tyranny. Our Independence, freedom and our prosperity depend on our success on the battlefield. Don’t let our first victory fool you. The ponies may be ignorant, incompetent and arrogant but they wouldn’t be in the position they are in if they were giving up so easily.”
He got no reply, the battalion silently marched on. The only sounds they created were the sounds of their synchronized steps and the noise the gear they carried made. It was unnatural quiet. Not even the song of birds or the sound of the wind in the trees was there. It was like nature observed with bated breath.
Through all this subtle noise, 49 suddenly heard quiet whispering. It was their officers speaking. He could not understand what they were saying, but it sounded like a heated debate.
He tried to focus on their voices, trying to understand at least some words, but it was in vain.
Left, right, left, right, their hooves stomped the ground.
Suddenly the whispers from the officers stopped and their synchronized steps were the only thing that disturbed the silence of nature.
Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Their hooves hit the ground to a silent rhythm. A silent rhythm that connected them all. 49 did not have to concentrate to stay in sync with his brothers. Over all the years of constant drill, the rhythm had gotten into their blood. It dictated their life, their thoughts, maybe even the beat of their hearts.
The fact that it came to them so naturally was what made marching long distances so boring. While marching, they had nothing to do. Nothing to hear, nothing to say, nothing to concentrate on. Their minds were free to wander, while their legs carried them wherever the officers would lead them.
Since he had nothing better to do, 49 eyed the surrounding nature.
He noticed that the further they advanced into Equestria, the greener the grass and foliage got, the more colorful the flowers were and the less dry and dusty the earth became. He looked around. The terrain was mostly flat with huge golden fields stretching across the horizon, but in the far, far distance he saw a mountain chain with snowy tips.
They came by a small forest. The trees were not clad with needles, but with leaves and the undergrowth was not just dead wood and needles from the trees, but flowers, bushes and shrubs. Through this greenery 49 saw butterflies flying, and crickets chirping. Everything in this cursed land was beautiful, lively and peaceful. It was like they invaded paradise.
The intrusive beauty of the land made 49 feel like Equestria itself was trying to convince them to lay down their guns and peacefully integrate into this utopia.
This thought made 49 boil. He hated this land. How does it dare to think it was better than his homeland, or by extent the ponies that they were better than them? Of course, a territory was not able to think, but still his hate flared up further. He was not mad at a territory for being a good place to live, that would be ridiculous. No, he was angry because the ponies had it so much better than them. He could not describe or explain his feelings about it. Maybe it was jealousy, maybe not. 49 only knew that he would choose his homeland over this land any day and that he would never admit that this land looked and lived better than his fatherland. NEVER.
He did not care that the hive he came from was surrounded by literal wasteland, or that their forests were planted, cold, windy and overall, just mazes of identical looking rows of trees. He did not care that there were barely any smaller insects where he came from, or that entire rivers had been poisoned by their industries. He did not think about how the air of their cities was always fogy from the huge industrial chimneys that made up the majority of the skyline. All of this did not matter to him at the moment. All that mattered was that this was where he came from, and that wherever he was heading could never be as great as his home.
In his anger he saw a lot of animals and he could not help but notice that this place was more lively than his home. Back home, the only other animals they had were solely there for agricultural needs. But the animals around here were free. Not caged, not enslaved and not bred to be turned into meat. Yet the animals weren’t behaving lively, quite the contrary was the case. Instead of peacefully grazing or doing what animals do, they hid, ran away or stared at the changelings with terrified eyes.
The column came by small clearings, a peaceful stream and meadows of flowers in all imaginable colors. The highlight of their march though was a single little farm.
It was an ordinary farm with small fields, a house and a barn.
The residents of the farm stopped working and some even dropped their farming tools as soon they spotted the changelings. Nopony dared to move or say a word as they astonishedly stared at the field gray column. The changelings marched by, past the fields, farmhouse and barn, untouched by their stares. No word was spoken, and no shot was fired. It was an awkward occurrence.
Suddenly Vicis yelled, “This silence is unbearable. Ein Lied!”
“But Herr Hauptman, wont the ponies hear us coming if we make such noise?” Herus asked, objecting the idea.
“Should they plan an ambush: they know that we are coming anyways, and if they don’t plan an ambush, I doubt that they have a larger force in the nearby area that could get alarmed by some chanting. According to the intelligence our infiltrators have gathered over the years, the next bigger unit is stationed a good 120 kilometers away,” explained Vicis, “Didn’t you listen during the regimental briefing?”
"I-"
“Besides that, a good song raises the mood and the moral.”
Herus had nothing to add.
“Alte Kameraden,” Herus shouted. “3. 4.” And the drones began chanting.
“Alte Kameraden auf dem Kriegespfad, Schließen Freundschaft flesenfest und Treu. Ob im Kampfe oder Pulverdampf, Stets zusammen halten sie aufs neu.
Zur Attacke geht es Schlag auf Schlag, Ruhm und Ehr soll bringen uns der Sieg. Auf Kameraden, frisch wird geladen. Das ist unsre Marschmusik- ”
Their chanting thundered over the landscape and scared away even the last animals. The battalion lacked a military band, but that did little to belittle their performance. Back in the hive, the drones had mandatory singing lessons twice a week. There, the young drones learned songs about victory and loyalty, advertising their service and duties as honorable and adventurous, but sometimes he also wondered how it all started. Why did the ponies hate them? What did the changelings do to them? Changeling school never went much into detail about these topics. It just was how it was, and they had to fight the ponies. When the queen calls to arms to defend the fatherland, who then asks for the reasons?
49 could feel his hooves slowly becoming numb from marching for hours on end. Throughout this time, he had calmed down from his previous anger and used the silence to gather what he knew to evaluate the situation. Surely an unusual action for a drone, but he always admired the officers for having the full perspective in every situation and he wanted to see the bigger picture too.
He knew that at its current state, Equestria had a power monopoly no nation dared to question. Expect for the changelings, obviously. It is common consensus in Equestria right now that magical power is the only thing that mattered in society and combat. This believe and their trust in their ´all powerful Alicorns´ led to their arrogance and the false feel of safety the changelings were exploiting.
49 concluded that the changelings’ position was in no way advantageous. At least from the ponies’ point of view. As far as he knew, the changelings were just another form of insect, in their eyes. Only a hivemind and swarm without magic or technology and with tactics like those of ants.
49´s thoughts drifted away from reality and facts and into the realm of imagination. He imagined the surprise of a pony officer and an alicorn about realizing the true nature of their enemy. He smirked a devilish grin at the imaginary scene. Ponies running away in shock and terror as their magical shield collapses under relentless artillery fire.
The hours passed.
The 8. battalion was still on the march. The sun was slowly sinking sending its last rays of light and warmth to the changelings. The narrow roads and wide-open plains turned orange, red and finally violet under the influence of the majestic sunset.
Since the village and the farm, they had encountered, the column of soldiers had not met any other signs of civilization. This would change soon, however.
They heard a humming. It sounded like the wings of a bee or a fly, but it was too loud to originate from any kind of small insect. 49 imagined a gigantic bumblebee hoovering somewhere over tiny flowers. He wondered how fluffy it would be. Shaking his head, he silenced his bored fantasy.
Of course, the humming was not caused by an oversized insect. At least not from an insect like this. They spotted small black dots on the horizon, growing in size as they quickly flew towards them. The column stopped. All the drones were on alert, ready to spread on the fields on either side of the road. Vicis raised his binoculars to his eyes.
“Those are our scouts,” he said, and the soldiers relaxed visibly. None of them were eager to face Pegasi on such open terrain.
As the scouts came closer, 49 could make out their silhouette against the bright sky. Their proportions looked pretty much like those of 49 and his brothers. The only difference between them was their pair of wings.
The scouts landed in front of the battalion and immediately headed to Vicis. On the ground, 49 could get a better look at them. Indeed, they looked like normal drones, but their uniform was distinctively different. Like all flying elements of the changeling military, they wore a bright blue uniform and dark chitin chest armor. Also, their trousers were a lot less baggy than those of the infantry. Overall, they had an elegant and graceful appearance. This was supplemented by their dignified body language and elegant movements. They were the changeling counterpart to the knights of old.
On their backs rested a pair of shimmering wings, sparkling in the day’s last light. They almost looked crystalline. Even though he was afraid of heights, 49 often envied his winged brothers for their ability to fly, and the look of their wings.
From what 49 could hear from where he stood, the scouts had scouted out a bigger town, about 1 kilometer ahead of them.
He saw Vicis rubbing his chin, then nodding determinedly. Vicis let his drones know that they were stopping their advance for now and would rest for the night. Not only to give the soldiers some rest, but also to give the logistic units time to bring much needed supplies and reinforcements to the front.
“Biwak!” was the order.
Drones and officers alike greeted the decision. They were tired after a long day of fighting and marching. Their hooves ached and 49 had lost almost all feelings in his legs. He wondered how Vicis managed to still be on his hoofs.
A nearby hill next to a small river was chosen as the location for their camp and the drones got to work.
They secured the area and created fireplaces, but they did not erect tents. Tents were not worth the effort if they were already leaving again the next morning. The drones would sleep under open air using their combat luggage as pillow and their tarpaulin as blanket.
After 49´s platoon was done preparing their fireplace and “beds,” they took a seat in the grass. A sigh of relief escaped them when the tension in their bodies vanished, and their muscles were finally able to relax.
Usually, the space around the fires was sparce when 72 drones tried to find a place, but due to recent events, there was much more space than usual.
49 leaned backwards and rested his weight on his elbows. His back ached, his legs were numb, and his head was empty. He could not suppress a long yawn as a wave of sudden tiredness came over him. He was exhausted.
His yawning also infected his brothers. They were all lazily laying or sitting in the grass around the fire. Noling said a word, they were simply enjoying the break, the silence and that they were still alive. Their rifles rested stacked behind them. The bayonets were no longer dripping with blood, it had long dried up and was now a dark red, almost black coat over the cold steel.
49 looked down at his body. His hands, his tunic and trousers were stained with pony blood like the blades and covered in mud. Throughout his entire life, the officers would always notice and fault even the smallest stains and now, now no officer cared about the appearance of the drones or themself. There should have been at least one inspection by now, at least they handled it like this when they were on maneuvers. The officers were standing around a nearby fire, all of them with tense posture.
For 49, who like his brothers followed every order to the letter, it was an uncomfortable feeling. He felt dirty. Not just because his uniform was dirty but because they violated the service regulations, he had to live by his entire life. In battle or not, a dirty or in any other way imperfect uniform was uncomfortable to him. It was his second skin, and he liked his skin to be clean.
50 sat down next to 49. His gaze followed 49´s and then fixated on his own uniform. “Anyling want to go and ask Herus for permission to clean ourselves at the river?” 50 asked.
49 thoughts about it a moment and then nodded in agreement. “Good idea.”
The two got up. 49’s body screamed at him, it did not want to move again, but he ignored the pain.
“Hey, wait for me!” SD8747 said and jumped up as well.
“For me too.”
“And for me.”
The whole platoon got up eventually and went to their company commander. Herus was next to Vicis and the other officers.
“Herus, I think your boys want to talk to you,” Leutnant Agrilus of the 6. company said to Herus, who did not even notice the drones approaching in the dark.
Herus turned around. “What can I do for you?” he asked, surprised at the sight of 57 drones suddenly standing behind him.
50, who had the idea, stepped forward and assumed posture. “Herr Oberleutnant, first platoon requesting permission to go to the river to clean ourselves.”
“Of course, actually that would be the best for all of us,” Herus said, giving a little laugh. “You can go. But no deserting.”
The drones remained where they stood, confused by his remark. There was a general tension in the air that had never been there when they were on maneuvers. The war, of course.
“Go,” Vicis said. “It was a joke.”
The drones went into attention stance for a brief moment and clicked their hoofs. Then the group of changelings turned around simultaneously and walked off.
Herus continued looking at them dumbfounded, then he turned back to face his fellow officers. With great displeasure he had to see they were suppressing laughs. “What?!” he asked a little too harshly and Vicis began to laugh.
Cold water ran through 49´s claws. It was so cold that it was a burning sensation on his chitin skin.
49 sat at the river’s shore, hands sunk into the water, feeling the power of the stream pressing against his palm and fingers. Left and right to him were his brothers. Some were still trying to get blood off their uniform or limbs while others already sat with their hoofs in the water, enjoying the feeling of the water and the round pebbles on the riverbed on their tired hooves.
He rolled up his sleeves and sunk his arms deeper into the water. 49 felt the river flow through the holes in his arms. It was a weird feeling, to feel the river literally flow through his body.
He pulled his arms back out of the water. Dry blood still stained his claws and palms. 49 grimaced, before he immersed his hands into the water again. While he rubbed his hands to get the blood of, he looked over to where 50 knelt.
His brother did not seem to notice his gaze.
“Are you angry, or sad?” asked 49 suddenly.
50 ears twitched and his head turned in surprise. “Angry? Why should I be angry, or sad? We are part of probably the biggest historical event ever. We kick pony flanks for the fatherland, so why should I?”
“That’s not what I mean,” explained 49, “I mean angry that they took our brothers from us. Sad that they will not experience our victory with us.”
50 looked away from him, his eyes firmly locked on the curls of the water.
“I know,” he said.
That was not the response 49 expected.
“But that´s our duty. We live to fight, with all the consequences, so that our people back home don’t have to. Our brothers’ duty merely ended early, but that doesn’t mean that their death was in vain,” 50 continued. “Of course, I am absolutely pissed that these bastards killed our brothers, but I am not sad. Each of us would happily give their life so that the changelings may be free, wouldn’t we?”
“Yes, we would,” said 49 quietly. “Without hesitation”
“Our people will forever remember and honor their sacrifice, or the sacrifice of those who will have to fall. The most important thing is that we win this war. I don’t even want to think about what would happen if we didn’t.”
49 nodded silent.
Maybe it was a display of weakness to think and talk about the lost comrades after just the first battle, but it was good to know that his friend and comrade saw things just like he did. 49 wanted to have a clear mindset and he swore to himself that nothing would ever shake or undermine this ideology. For the honor of his brothers.
No matter the sacrifice, they must not succumb. Everything they knew and loved was at stake. He could not think of any bigger motivation than that.
The drones returned to their camp a few minutes later. 49 found a nice place near a bonfire and sat down. The moment his body touched the ground his muscles relaxed. He felt unbelievably tired.
“You better get some rest. Herus said that we will attack that town tomorrow,” said one of the drones from a different company as he saw them returning.
“I heard the flies say that the 4. Feldartillerie Abteilung has caught up with us, so when we attack that town tomorrow, we can request artillery support if it´s necessary,” said 50 as he sat down next to 49 who warmed his wet and cold limbs on the bonfire. The nights, though summer had just begun, were still unusually cold.
One of the other drones next to them chuckled at 50, calling the scouts “flies”.
“Mhm,” was all that 49 replied.
Artillery or not, the city would fall no matter what. Just like that village had today and other settlements will. They won´t stop us, 49 thought, Not with their magic, and not with their friendship nonsense. And he had good reasons to be confident.
When 49 and his comrades returned from the river, he overheard the scouts report from their latest reconnaissance flight. They claimed that the town was only guarded by about battalion worth of guards, and these guards were still equipped with muskets or even spears.
49 wondered, how were the Equestrians not able to supply all their forces with modern weaponry when even the changelings managed to hand out a rifle to all their drones? And their weapons were literally invented by the ponies.
For 49 that showed again that Equestria did not give a damn for their regular infantry. They seemed immensely unprepared for war. Why did the ponies attack them then?
“What do you think is the reason the ponies are so weak at our frontier? I mean, if they seek to destroy and subjugate us, shouldn’t they have a bigger contingent of troops?” asked 49.
50 answered something but 49 did not listen. It was rude, but right as 50 began to speak, his ears had found something of far greater interest. “Vicis, I have question,” a voice said.
49’s ears turned to listen to the conversation behind him. If an officer was asked a question, chances were, he could get some additional information about something that was going on, but nobody told the dornes about.
“What is it?” Vicis asked, his voice tired.
“This army reform every staff officer in the regiment talked about, will it happen?” Herus asked.
“I don’t know but let’s hope it does. I read about the ideas of the reform; I think it is the only thing logical if we want to get through this with our drones alive. We all saw what happened today,” Herus said.
Silence. 49 heard 50 was still talking, but his voice was nothing but a muffled background noise. His brain was thoroughly fixated on the conversation between the officers.
“I have a question too,” a different voice asked. 49 identified the voice as Leutnant Agrilus. “What exactly are we facing tomorrow? I heard that the ponies have some very powerful magical infantry.”
“I don´t know,” said Vicis.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” a different voice said. Probably the company leader of the 8. company 49 supposed. “I have seen multiple scout groups talking to you.”
“I mean that we don’t know how many enemy troops there are,” said Vicis tense. “Two different scout parties came to me during the last hour, both reporting completely different numbers. But I can promise there will be no magic, we will have to trust our comrades.”
“Then we attack an unknown enemy?” Agrilus hissed, trying to suppress his outrage.
“Yes.”
There was a second of silence.
“We can only hope that we get some reliable numbers by tomorrow and then-“ Vicis was cut off by one of the other officers.
“How will exact numbers help us should we find out that we have to fight an entire division? Until now, we only know about their armament.” The officer of the 8. sounded angry. “And I begin to question this information too, as well as the competence of our dear flying comrades.”
“They can’t come too close, or they would alert the ponies,” said Herus in defense of the scouts.
“Should there be an entire division,” Vicis said, putting strong emphasis on the word “should”, “then we can only try to take them by surprise.”
“So, we will attack no matter what?” asked Agrilus.
“We have our orders.”
There was another moment of awkward silence.
“But in that case, they outnumber us at least nine to one, and all we have is infantry.”
“Can we at least count on artillery support?” Herus asked.
“In theory yes. I think you all heard that the 4. Feldartillerie Abteilung has ‘caught up to us’. But the 4. is still kilometers behind us. They have merely crossed the border, but they are not on our tails.
“No intel, no fire support. Is there anything to our advantage?” Herus asked growling. The mood of the officers was obviously deteriorating.
“We have the superior infantry. And we still have the element of surprise. Something all the scouts reported is that the ponies are still not alarmed and-“
“Hey! What are you doing?”
49 flinched at the sudden voice right next to him. He turned his head and looked directly into the face of SD8701. SD8701 had taken a seat right next to 49 and had observed the curious drone for a good while without 49 noticing it. Now he was looking at 49 with amusement rather than anger, unlike 50 who looked rather unamused.
“I… uh…” 49 stammered.
“Heard anything interesting?” SD8701 asked.
“N-no, Herr Unteroffizier. I heard nothing of interest.” 49 said franticly, his body tensing. If changelings were able to blush, his face would have been grass green from embarrassment and panic.
SD8701 chuckled. “Hey 49, we´re all on the same side. I want to know too, what did they say?” 01 asked curiously.
49 swallowed. “Well, the only thing I heard is that; apparently we have no idea how many enemies we are going to be facing tomorrow.”
“No idea?” SD8701 asked surprised. “But all the scouts that come and go.”
“None of them report matching numbers.”
“So, ten or maybe ten thousand?”
“Yes”
SD8701’s mouth got very thin.
“Oh, and before I forget, Herus told me to tell you that ponies about this size.” He marked the approximate height with his hand, “and with a very high voice are probably children, and we are forbidden to hurt them.”
“Children, like pony grubs?” SD8701 asked.
49 shrugged. “I guess. Ask him yourself if you want to know more.”
“And why did he tell you this?”
“Because I almost shot one of them,” 49 said, as if there was nothing to it.
SD8701 nodded and got up to search for Herus. The other drones around the bonfire did not pay attention to their small conversation. They were busy heating field rations over the fire.
49 watched his brothers carefully holding their tin mess kits over the flames.
The quiet conversations were supplemented by the crackling of the bonfires. It was almost a cozy atmosphere, like a summer camp. But they were no students, they were soldiers.
50 poked 49’s side with his elbow to get his attention. 49 raised his eyebrows to signal his attention, but 50 did not say anything. He simply pointed at the drone next to him.
49´s eyes followed 50s finger and he saw SD8755 laying in the grass, starring into the sky.
“What are you doing?” asked 49.
“I´m looking at the stars. Aren’t they beautiful?” replied SD8755 absent.
49 laid his head back and stared up into the dark sky. SD8755 was not wrong, the night sky really was beautiful. If only the ponies did not annex the celestial bodies as theirs, it would make the sight much more enjoyable for him.
“Stargazer,” said 50.
“Pardon?” said 49 confused.
“Stargazer!” exclaimed 50.
“Yes, I heard what you said, but I don’t understand,” said 49, looking at his brother as if he was speaking in an alien language.
“SD8755’s new nickname. Forget 55, I´ll call you Stargazer.”
49 stared at his brother a little bewildered. 55, no, Stargazer, did not seem to mind, or even notice. Before he could say anything back, the drones that warmed up the rations began to distribute.
49 grabbed the tin cup with both hands, enjoying the warmth it emitted. The food itself was not noteworthy. Mediocre at best, but they were all hungry. The conversations fell silent. Eating noises took their place.
“Stargazer, I like it,” said Stargazer with full mouth.
Author's Note
Phew, this took a lot longer to edit than expected.... Next chapter should be quicker.
Chapter 4 On the other side
Far, far away, a lavender colored pony slept deep and calmly, knowing nothing of the impending danger.
Warm rays of sunshine shone through white silk curtains, covering a large window. The light illuminated a bedroom. It was too big for one pony alone, it could have easily been an entire dormitory, yet still it had only one inhabitant plus a dragon. The unreasonably decadent furnishes and golden overwhelmingly beautiful ornaments did a poor job at filling the pressing emptiness of the room but did great at displaying wealthiness.
As the light of dawn steadily conquered the darkness of the past night, the front between night and day slowly crept over the purple alicorn’s face. Twilight, gently pulled out of Luna´s realm of dreams and back to reality, opened her eyes and blinked at the with gold ornamented marble celling.
The young alicorn let out a long yawn and stretched her limbs to awake her muscles. Twilight struggled against the power of the soft matrass that was trying to pull her back under the warm blanket. After months of sleeping in a field bed, this night’s rest had been heavenly. But, through the power of sheer determination, she won and rolled out of bed.
A little wobbly on her hooves, Twilight stretched again and opened the curtains that had blocked most of the sunlight. The glistening light suddenly exploding in front of her eyes and flooding the room blinded her for a brief second before her eyes adjusted to the brightness of Celestia´s day. Spike did not notice any of this. He had been sleeping next to Twilight in the huge bed and was still calmly snoring. Twilight decided to let him sleep.
On the other side of the window was the city of Canterlot. The heart and crown jewel of Equestria, the beacon of harmony, was just like her awakening for a new day.
Twilight stood there for a moment and enjoyed the marvelous view over the city her room had. She had a perfect view of the tidy cobbled streets, the marble facades and the shining gold roofs. The streets were already beginning to fill with ponies going after their everyday lives. In the far distance, Twilight could even spot a gathering of small dots which she promptly recognized as Ponyville.
Thanks to its position in one of the highest towers of Canterlot castle, the scenery her room offered was breathtaking, but quickly grew old for somepony who had been to Canterlot so many times. If only the reason for her being here today was not so serious. Nothing she could see was interesting enough to grant it a longer look. Twilight turned away from the window and headed for a big wardrobe that was on the opposite side of the room.
Inside the wardrobe where dresses and everyday clothes in all different shapes and colors from the best materials, made by the best seamstresses. None of them Twilight recognized as hers. The room had been hastily prepared upon her arrival, despite her having instantly stated that it was not necessary. But despite the huge selection of clothing, Twilight had only eyes for one specific piece of garment. The only piece inside the wardrobe she knew, because she had brought it with her.
Her horn lit up and she grabbed a dark brown uniform that hung on the very left side with her magic and pulled it out.
The dress uniform was made of the finest cotton and the finest silk on the inside. A few centimeters above the end of each sleeve there was a cuff with two golden stars and a crown, symbolizing the tiara of Celestia. Next to the cuff were four golden strips going all the way around the sleeve. Further up the sleeve, on the shoulders, were shoulder straps but those did not bear any insignia.
Twilight slipped out of her nightgown and into the uniform. The collection of medals, which was quite sizable for her age, weighed her chest down quite a bit.
Already in training, Twilight had managed to climb the ranks, and when she graduated from the Royal Officer’s Academy of Guard and Army, she was already at the rank of a colonel.
It was a meteoric rise, even for somepony of royal blood. Every now and then, in those rare quiet moments when she had time for herself and only herself, she wondered: just how much was and is her career being influenced by her horn and wings.
While Twilight was buttoning up her uniform using her magic, she used her hands to get into a pair of shiny silver horseshoes.
If she had joined the armed forces just a few months earlier than she did, she would have had to wear armor instead of a fabric uniform. In all honesty, she was glad that she did not have to wear uncomfortable, heavy and oily armor. Unlike the royal guards, these poor lads still had to wear their traditional set of golden armor and helmet. They did not even get modern weaponry.
Lastly, Twilight placed a brown visor cap on her head and opened the door to her room. Outside in one of the many corridors of Canterlot Castle, Twilight made her way to the dining room. On her way, she politely greeted every servant, guard or janitor she came by. Twilight was in a bit of a hurry, so it was rather of etiquette than actual politeness. Equestria stood for friendship, peace, friendliness and harmony, but sometimes, the only thing that seemed “Equestrian” about Equestria in all the hectic and urgent matters was the carefully upheld façade.
Throughout Twilight’s time as commander of the RTDH, she had been traveling the various frontiers of Equestria, always on the quest of protecting the territorial integrity of the kingdom. Whenever she was far away from the core lands of Equestria, she felt like she entered an entirely different country.
Twilight turned around corner and saluted a pair of guards patrolling down the hallway.
Out there, in the far-off regions in the west or east, poverty ruled together with its despicable but unavoidable companions, crime and corruption. Twilight had always tried her best to fight the neglect of these areas and the ponies living in them. But she could only be in one place at the time, and the places that needed help were many. In addition to that came the fact that she was never meant to stay at the focal point of misery for long. The princesses always sent her to the places where foreign forces tried to undermine or threaten the boundaries of Equestria. Once her mission was done and the enemy defeated, she was ordered elsewhere.
Twilight turned another corner and headed down a large spiral staircase.
This time, she had been called back to Canterlot, even before her mission was actually finished. Although not authorized by Celestia, she still came as fast as she could. The issues in the capital were far more pressing than a group of rogue griffons raiding farms on the far eastern extends of Equestria.
Since a few days, their great and as gods worshiped rulers, princess Celestia and princess Luna, did nothing but argue and disagree over everything you could argue or disagree about, no matter how unimportant it was. They questioned every decision or action the other wanted to make. It was like they tried to purposefully hinder their respective duties. Why they suddenly behaved like that was a mystery. That was why Twilight was here. She had to try and defuse the situation before it escalated.
Reaching the end of the staircase, Twilight walked down yet another hallway. The castle was sheer never ending.
And as if the current situation in Canterlot was not bad enough already, shortly after her arrival, Twilight had received the information that communication to multiple villages and settlements near the border to the land claimed by the Changelings had been disrupted, which could only be due to a series of raids. As much as Twilight wanted to take her troops there and bring security and order back to the ponies living there, she had more important matters to address. But still she swore to keep an eye on that matter as well. Just in case the changelings would get any ideas and might try something bigger than just small-scale raids to steal love. She had already sent a letter back to her troops at the griffon frontier to be ready for a quick redeployment to the west.
Across another intersection and Twilight was finally at her destination. The two guards guarding the entrance of the dining room moved their spears out of the way to let Twilight pass. It was almost hilarious at this point that the royal guards, with their reputation of being Equestria’s elite, were still wielding spears when the army had long transcended to the use of firearms. But Celestia herself had personally forbidden any kinds of firearms to be stored, manufactured or used all around Canterlot after the events of the royal wedding.
Twilight had always thought this was because of traditional thinking, but the more experience she gathered while dealing with these weapons, the more she started to think that this might not be the only reason. The destructive power of rifles, grenades and bombs was immense, maybe even more dangerous than magic. The powers of the unicorns could wreak a lot of havoc, but only when they were utilized by gifted and well-trained individuals. A rifle, however, did not require any talent to end a life.
Twilight still remembered the expression of terror on Celestias face, when she found out that the changelings had looted the armories at that fateful day. And she would probably never forget the images of Canterlot’s street being littered with bodies.
Celestia had been greatly concerned for Twilights safety throughout the entire battle, especially as the casualties were ramping up, because she insisted on leading the defense herself and from the front. Concluding in retrospective, Twilight had come to the realization that the fact of Alicorn immortality had always been tested by magic and time, but never by fire and lead.
“I wonder if,” Twilight said quietly, but could not finish her thought as she was already entering the dining room.
Readjusted her uniform before entering, Twilight stepped through the wide door, the guards opened for her.
Inside the room, which’s size had more similarities with a mess hall rather than an actual dining room, was a giant table that reached almost from one end of the room to the other. The decorations in the room, together with those on the table and even the stained-glass windows were split into two along an imaginary line in the middle of the room. On the right side of the room, where princess Luna sat and grimly consumed a pile of pancakes, the decorations were all in a deep blue and violet theme while on the opposite side where Celestia sat, all the decorations and wallpaper were white and gold.
Twilight had thought about this moment since her arrival in Canterlot yesterday. She had to figure out a way to greet both goddesses equally and at the same time, to not give one of them the feeling that she preferred or believed more in the other one. The solution she came up with was quite simple. Upon entering, she bowed, facing the imaginary border of night and day themed decorations.
She remained in that pose for a good while, waiting for somepony to say something, but the silence dragged on. The princesses had not been precisely happy about her sudden arrival. As Twilight had to learn, the generals had not informed either of them and the princesses still seemed to be displeased about that. Usually, Twilight would feel extreme feelings of guilt because she disappointed her tutor and princess, but the urgency of the matter overshadowed that. The last thing they needed now was another 1000-year banishment.
As nopony said anything, Twilight took a seat on the only other free chair in the middle of the long table. The silence continued for the entire breakfast, and Twilight had absolutely no problem with that. If neither princess said anything, no fight could erupt. Instead of speaking, the two princesses just threw glares at each other when the other did not look.
Every once in a while, Twilight looked up from her meal she had barely touched and glanced over to Celestia and Luna. The diarchs did not look back.
If Twilight had had the chance to skip this unpleasant ceremony, she would have taken it at moment´s notice. She could not think of anything more uncomfortable than having to literally foalsit the two mightiest beings on the planet to prevent total disaster.
Not that she did not believe in her goddesses and their ability to lead pony kind, but with the current tension going on between them it was just necessary for somepony to supervise them until the situation was resolved and she had found the reason for their distrust.
Twilight’s thoughts were racing. Something about this just felt wrong. Twilight still did not know what it was, but something about the tension between the princesses, the situation on the changeling frontier, it all had to have a connection. It all felt like a very bad omen. Her stomach told her that something was happening. Something big. Something she felt like she should have noticed already but was still hiding in the shadows.
Her hunger was gone. Her stomach was turning. There was something she did not know about, and it drove her crazy.
After breakfast was finally over, Luna went to bed, which granted Twilight the free time she needed to investigate her premonition. And there was only one place in the castle where she could do that.
It did not take her long to reach the military district of the castle. The high command of all equestrian forces had a whole area of the castle for its own. The military section was huge, reaching from the naval departments to the flying corps, but Twilight only needed one department: the communication and logistic coordination department.
The department was located in one of the smaller towers on the west side of the castle. As she was approaching, Twilight could already hear tense chatter. The closer she came, the louder it became.
The communication and logistic coordination department was nothing more than a large room filled with desks. It was one big messy office. The walls were filled with all sorts of maps, the desks were covered in mountains of papers and folders.
As Twilight stepped through the door and onto the creaking parquet, the chatter died.
“Attention!”
All the present ponies stood up. Two dozen pairs of eyes stared at her in silence.
Just a few years ago, Twilight would have been deeply uncomfortable by so much attention, but now she was unphased by it.
“Who is the commanding officer here?” she asked. Her tone was demanding and stern.
One of the stallions took a step towards her and saluted. “Interim commander captain Swift Transmission, at your service, sir- eh, ma’- eh, your majesty,” the captain stuttered.
I nterim? twilight thought. She wondered what happened to the previous commander and how suddenly he must have been relieved from duty to be replaced by a captain. However, this was a question for another time. “Captain, yesterday I learned that we lost contact with several units along the changeling frontier. What is the current state of things on that matter?”
Captain Swift Transmission suddenly began to avoid eye contact and scratched the wooden floor with a hoof. There was no answer.
Twilight raised an eyebrow, her patients slowly dwindling.
“This isn´t really my area of responsibility and competence to talk about this. I was strictly instructed to only report to my direct superior and to otherwise not act on my own.” Swift Transmission said quietly.
Twilight shook her head in disbelief. “What?”
“I am only the interim commander until the major general returns. My authority is very limited. The general staff should be able to answer all your questions, however, your majesty” Swift Transmission said almost sheepishly.
The general staff? Twilight would rather ask a changeling personally for the information instead of bothering with the staff, despite them being the ones calling her to aid. The high command was dominated by elderly, conservatively thinking, overly cautious and mostly severely incompetent officers. It was incomprehensible for Twilight, how princess Celestia could allow these fossils to continue leading, planning and coordinating the army. Most of them were old veterans of the royal guard: good soldiers, maybe even experienced fighters, but terrible strategists. And they were arrogant and smug. Twilight could not stand them. There were good generals, but not in the ranks of the marshals. They were nothing but a self-serving old elite.
Captain Swift Transmission raised an eyebrow, only then did Twilight notice she still had not answered him.
“Captain, you are ordered to only report to your direct superiors. Would you say that a princess is your superior?” said Twilight cold.
“O- of course, princess,” said Swift Transmission, and nodded quickly.
“Would you also say that a princess stands above a general or marshal?”
He nodded again.
“Then would you be so kind and please tell me about the current situation of the western frontier?” Twilight did not like to play out the princess card, but in situations like this, it saved her a lot of time and energy.
Swift Transmission was visibly uncomfortable with his task at hand. “But I am not at fault when the marshals get wind of this violation of areas of responsibility.”
Twilight rolled her eyes and gestured to him to finally get going.
“Multiple battalions and smaller units all over the changeling frontier have stopped responding. Every gathering of ponies living in that area must keep in contact with us, as a kind of early warning system, but several towns, settlements and cities have stopped responding to our calls as well. We have the orders to issue the instruction to be on alert and report any sighting of the enemy immediately to all units nearby those we lost contact with. But so far, we haven´t received anything.” Switft Transmission said, sounding like a prerecorded message. “The swarm has become more cautious; one should think that a force of such size is easy to spot.”
This did not sound good.
The swarm? Twilight thought. No. There could not be a swarm. At least not a single big one. They would not be able to reach so many places in such a short time or at the same time. The changelings must have split up their forces. Twilight’s thoughts were racing.
If the changelings had indeed modernized their forces, like she anticipated, it would create a whole new and not to be underestimated threat to their west. On one hand, Twilight was terrified at the thought of an organized, large-scale invasion by the changelings, on the other however, she felt somewhat thrilled. This was so much more exciting than everything that happened while dealing with the griffons, yaks, bat ponies or zebras.
Twilight’s mind went into overdrive. In that case, she had to make plans, request a redeployment to the west, gather more information. This finally gave Twilight the opportunity to request more forces and turn the RTDH from being just a mobile task force to an actual capable fighting unit. Twilight wanted to estimate chances and predict and calculate possible outcomes, but there were still too many empty variables. But at that moment, the only thing she should actually think about is if were actually the changelings or just a harmless incident that blocked communication.
“Do you know if it is actually the changelings that are at fault?” asked Twilight. Her cold and demanding tone perfectly masked her stressed state of mind.
“We could rule out the possibility that anything magical or natural interfered with our communication. The posts don’t try to send replies.”
“So, it is the changelings?” Twilight continued asking. This time, she could not fully prevent stress from creeping into her tone. As she fell silent again, Twilight took deep breaths. This usually helped her to calm to. Don’t overreact. Especially not in front of so many ponies, she told herself.
The alicorn´s worry transferred to the other ponies in the room. Several ponies began to uneasily shift around in their workplace. Twilight knew that as an alicorn, she had to set the example, but it was impossible for her not to worry. The possibility that this could become a second Canterlot but many times bigger was too real.
“It´s the only plausible explanation, your majesty,” said Swift Transmission, his voice becoming more and more uneasy as the consequences of the current events dawned on him.
“Is the high command informed? Do the princesses know?”
“I wrote it into my daily report. It is lying on their desks.”
Twilight sighed. So, they probably don’t know yet. What did I expect? She thought. “Has your department any guess or actual intel on the hostile force´s strength? Speed, concentration, anything?”
“No, your majesty. As I said, we haven´t received any reports from any units that we have lost connection with. We assume that there are no survivors to tell us anything about the foe,” replied Swift Transmission.
No survivors, Twilight thought. That seemed like a good working, and for the changelings in no way too radical a strategy to conceal themselves.
“They are not messing around,” Twilight muttered so quietly that nopony could hear it but herself. The imagination of so many dead ponies should have shocked Twilight beyond measurement, but it only made her snort in anger. She had successfully calmed herself down. Twilight had taken a step back and looked at the whole thing not as a princess of Equestria, but as a strategist. Only seeing the cold numbers and facts, and not the lives attached to them.
While Twilight was thinking, Swift Transmission´s face lit up. He had one actual piece of information he could give to Twilight.
“Your majesty, if may follow me. I have something I need to show to you.” Swift Transmission said, suddenly a lot more confident than just moments ago.
Twilight gave him a curious look and followed Swift Transmission into a different room.
The room, Swift Transmission led twilight to, was a small backroom of the main office. On the wall opposite the door was a large map of all of Equestria. But the map did not only show cities, rivers and mountains. The map was littered with weird symbols that no civilian would understand. Good thing Twilight was no civilian. These were symbols of stationed units, forts and outposts.
In the very west of the map, most of these symbols were studded with small red pins.
“The pins are cities and units we have lost contact to, right?” asked Twilight and the captain nodded.
“Usually, we use this map to mark who answered us, so we don’t lose track of all the different units and departments. But when there is a,” Swift Transmission coughed once, “interference, we mark the area that is affected.”
“When did they start their attack?”
“That is impossible to say. We don’t have frequent contact with the frontiers. There are so many departments and units in that area that we just send a message to them every few days and they respond to it with a short report.” While he spoke, Swift Transmission´s voice got quieter and quieter as he saw the expression of the alicorn slowly derail.
Twilight opened her mouth and spoke tense and very quietly, “do you want to tell me that we have no idea when they entered our territory or when they attacked our troops and therefore have no clue where they are now and how fast they are moving, and they are basically roaming our territory freely?”
Captain Swift Transmission winced, before he tried to escape Twilight cold but furious gaze by slowly and carefully moving backwards. His entire body trembled under the upcoming anger of the alicorn. Even some ponies in the other room were trying to gain more distance.
“O- of course not, your majesty. Our calculations resulted in them being somewhere around here,” Swift Transmission hastily mumbled to calm her down. While he talked, he pointed to the map to show Twilight where he meant.
Twilight was not sure if they actually had tried to calculate where the changelings were or if the captain was just trying to appease her. She decided to show goodwill and assumed that they actually tried.
To say that the changelings had advanced fast was an understatement. If this captain was right, they would be almost in Vanhoover. Twilight wondered, what were their strategic goals, what did they want to achieve? Currently it looked like they were just going forwards, but she was sure that they must also have a better plan than this.
Twilight analyzed the symbols on the map. They were mostly reserve and militia units, nothing she believed could stop the changelings if they threw all their weight at them. She scratched her chin.
“Do your calculations also include an approximate number of casualties?” said Twilight still looking at the map. “How many ponies were in all those units combined?”
Swift Transmission looked over to one of his subordinates, who seemed to immediately understand what he wanted.
The pony began to look through the mountains of papers, scribbled something on a small piece of paper. Twilight began tapping the ground with her right hoof in anticipation. Finally, he was done and handed over the small paper to the captain. “Assuming every unit we lost contact to has been completely eradicated, we estimate about 20 thousand,” Swift Transmission said. He did not speak quickly or calm and collected. His voice sounded like he was forcing the words out his throat.
As Twilight heard the number, she wished she had glasses, so she could take them off in shock. “Twenty thousand?!” she exclaimed, and the entire room jumped at the sudden noise.
“At least,” Swift Transmission added shyly.
Twenty thousand dead ponies. At least. And this in less than two days. This was a catastrophe.
“Captain, I have to speak with the commander of the western frontier. Now,” commanded Twilight. Swift Transmission, clearly taken by surprise with the sudden order, stumbled over his hooves, almost fell and then saluted and ran out of the map room.
While Twilight continued to scan the map with all its pins and symbols, she could hear Swift Transmission talk in the other room, probably into one of the many telephones in the office. They just had to get the good troops over there and consolidate the front. If she and the RTDH got relocated to the west she could easily help out stabilize the situation until reinforcements arrived, even though open conflict was not what her troops trained for or were meant for.
They had to be sent over there. They were the only Equestrian troops with actual experience in combat. This experience would be priceless. Twilight knew who was in command of the west, and it did not boost her confidence.
She left the map room.
“You there,” she said to a present Pegasi officer, “please ask the commanders of the Pegasi units in the west to fly reconnaissance missions. We need to know the location of our enemy. Inform everything that can fly. If necessary, ask the Wonderbolts, we need to get some useful and reliable information.” Twilight knew she had no command over the Pegasi units, but she hoped they would see the the necessity.
The Pegasus saluted and began to write on a scroll. Twilight, however, covered her forehead with her left hand. It felt very warm. Why did this have to happen now? Why could they not have waited a few more days until the problem with the princesses was dealt with?
Then it hit her. Now she began to see how it was all connected. This could not be a coincidence. The changelings had to have spies in the castle. This was the only logical reason for how they could have known about the princesses. What if they did not only exploit the situation, but even created it. The idea that the changelings could not only be able to successfully infiltrate the castle, the most secure place in Equestria, but also manipulate the princesses into fighting again, actually frightened Twilight.
If this really was the case, who could she still trust and who was a changeling spy? Without the infiltrators exposing themselves accidentally, they had no real way of knowing who was trustworthy and who was not.
Spike! Twilight thought. The dragon was probably still asleep in her quatre. What if he also already got replaced? Twilight´s panic level kept rising.
Her thought process got interrupted by the captain tapping her shoulder and speaking to her.
“What do you mean, has more important things to do?” yelled Twilight.
“He will explain himself to me,” muttered Twilight while she stormed out of the department. “If he wants to or not.” With determination in her heart, Twilight made her way to the only pony she knew that was stupid and selfish enough to put personal matters over potentially the future of pony kind.
Author's Note
Originally i had planned a diffrent chapter to be number 4, but i reorganized and rewrote a huge part of the story, because otherwise the timeline would be unclear. I never really tried writing canon characters before, so please have mercy. I for myself enjoyed exploring and thinking about how Twilight could react and behave in my au and the given circumstances. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! More chapters are on their way.
Chapter 6 For our comrades
Chapter 6 For our comrades
49 thrusted a shovel into the ground. The steel blade cut through the soft earth effortlessly, separating tiny roots and sticks. He pressed the handle down and sent the dirt flying with a strong swing.
49 thrusted his shovel into the ground.
He stood inside of a large hole, about two meters wide, twenty meters long and already half a meter deep.
49 pushed the handle down.
He was not digging alone. Over a dozen of his brothers were digging with him.
49 sent the dirt flying out of the hole.
The euphoria of victory had vanished as quickly as it had come over them as soon as Vicis asked for volunteers to bury the dead. Unlike the day before, they were not immediately moving on. They had received the order to halt and wait to reunite with their regiment which was on its way to them.
Into each thrust of the shovel, 49 laid all the hate, anger and sadness he felt over the death of his bothers.
Despite the grim nature of the task, Vicis had no problems finding drones willing to do it. In fact, so many volunteered that he had to pick who got to dig. Using equipment provided by the local population, the changelings set out to dig a grave for their comrades. Herus, who was supervising the progress, had chosen a small hill east of the town as the location. From up there, they had a great view over the town and its surroundings.
To the west of the town was a thin strip of forest which the changelings had used to sneak up on the unsuspecting ponies the day before. In the east were wide open plains and fields, stretching over hills and valleys. The green meadows, mixed with golden wheat fields created a patchwork of colors, separated by rows of trees and hedges and narrow dirt roads.
49 felt his stomach twisting. It was a weird mixture of being hungry and the urge to throw up. The more time passed, and the more he thought about the fate of his brothers, the more it got to him. And while this gut-wrenching feeling was torturing him, the hunger for Love grew as well. The leftovers of their rations were no way near enough for the rest of the day, and he already felt empty. The metaphorical hole inside him was getting bigger and bigger, what felt like his guts turning to ice and his soul being sucked in. This combined with how he felt about the loss of his brothers created a turmoil of negativity and pain inside of 49 that threatened to overwhelm him.
49 did not recognize himself. At first, he had thought that he could easily move on, but as he began to fully comprehend the meaning of death, his mental defenses came crumbling down. He could not imagine what he would feel like if it had hit 50.
A few meters away from them at the foot of the hill, ponies were digging a second hole. Unlike the drones, they had not volunteered for the task.
The hole they were digging was almost three times the size of the hole on the hill. In a circle around the ponies, drones were on guard. They stood there almost motionless, watching the ponies work. From the town, more ponies were arriving accompanied by changelings. They were carrying bodies on their backs, unloading them next to the hole. The wall of corpses got higher and longer.
The clean up works had begun right as fighting ceased and had already been going for 2 hours.
On the hill there were also bodies lying, but they were covered by tent tarpaulins and not stacked atop each other as if they were bricks. The very first thing the changelings did was gathering their fallen brethren and attending the wounded.
The digging was silent. The only sounds heard were the sound of the shovels and the dirt. None of the changelings wanted to talk. They were all too busy with their own thoughts. 49’s happiness about achieving this victory was first evened out, then completely drowned by the somber feeling he got while thinking about the casualties.
While they were digging, 49 saw Leutnant Agrilus coming over to them from the town. With long hasty steps, he made his way up the hill, slowing down as he reached the top. He walked straight past the digging drones, not even granting them a look and joined Herus at the edge of the grave. The service regulations were very strict when it came to greeting superiors, but the Leutnant did not salute the Oberleutnant. He did not even stand at attention for the higherup. Agrilus simply stood next to Herus, looking with him at the working drones.
“Their Bodies will be brought home. They will get a funeral in their home hives,” Agrilus said with almost robotic voice as he tried to suppress any emotions from entering his voice. “Their family will see them one last time.”
Herus clenched his jaw and remained silent.
“Are you alright, Herus?” the smaller changeling asked, his voice not louder than a whisper now. 49 had to really concentrate to hear what the Leutnant said over the sound of the shovels.
Herus remained silent, his eyes fixated on the row of bodies behind the digging drones.
“Thought so,” said Agrilus, after waiting for a response a little longer.
The two stood there for a moment in silence until Herus finally spoke up. “Almost half my company, Agrilus. Almost half. 91, in two days.” His voice, usually strong and loud, now sounded weak, defeated and glum. “They died under my command, because of my mistakes.”
Agrilus did not reply immediately. Taken by surprise that Herus did not even address what he said about the fallen officers, he started to scratch the ground with his right hoof, visibly uncomfortable and in thoughts. Then he lowered his gaze at the ground in front of him. “It is not your fault; you did not make any mistakes. You were following orders, just like they did. We are all doing our duty here, with all the risks that come with it, don’t forget that. They knew what they were doing,” he made a short break, “and what we were risking. We can’t fight without taking losses.”
“They,” said Herus flat, his voice now empty. “We always call and refer to them in mass, as ‘they’, hardly knowing anything of them. We say, ‘they died,’ instead of saying who died. We say, ‘they fought,’ ‘they won,’ ‘they lost.’”
Now Agrilus looked up to Herus, his dark blue eyes narrow. “You can’t be expected to know over 200 drones personally.”
Herus did not return the gaze. He continued to look at the bodies. “Why not? We are expected to lead over 200 drones into battle and possible death, why should we not at least know whose life we play with. I knew some of them, I tried to know all of them. Since they were placed under my command, I tried to get to know them all. I don’t know them for as long as Vicis does, but still for a majority of their lives. Now, so many of those I knew are dead, and even more of those I did not know.” Towards the end, Herus’s voice got quieter and quieter, but also harsher. Unnoticed by Agrilus, but not unnoticed by 49, Herus clenched his hands to fists as he spoke.
Agrilus averted his gaze, and they stood there in silence for another moment. 49 could practically feel how desperate Agrilus tried to come up with something to raise Heru’s mood. “Well, then get to know who is still here. You can’t change the past, but you can try to influence the future,” Agrilus said, trying to sound as optimistically as possible given the context of the statement.
Herus snorted, his nostrils flaring. “Just to have more friends dying?”
“We are at war,” Agrilus retorted, suddenly speaking in a harsh tone before switching to a calm and comforting one again. “We can just try to make the best out of it. But we can’t falter now, the fatherland needs us.”
Sighing, Herus finally looked at Agrilus. “I just don’t know how to carry on. I don’t want to grow distant from my boys, but I also don’t know how long I can take seeing them die like flies in front of me.”
The smaller changeling patted Herus back and gave him a comforting smile. “You always did great as a company commander, probably the best in the entire regiment. Your dro- your boys believe in you. Don’t change, and you will always have loyal friends to give you support. Everything will be okay.”
“You think so?”
“Of course, as long as we are comrades. And no kind of pony magic or trickery will ever change that.”
They fell silent, watching the drones and ponies work.
49 agreed with Agrilus. Herus was always there for his drones when there were problems, and he always tried to call them by their ‘Nicknumber’ without having to look at their ID tattoo on their neck, eventhough he did not have the ability too sens who was in front of him. He had always been sincere to them, had always showed that he cared for them and although 49 was not one of the drones Herus got to know, he still had a sense of attachment his Oberleutnant.
But he could also emphasize with Herus more than he would like to admint because of it, his thoughts still circling around his dead brothers. He desperately tried to find a way that could have prevented their untimely demise, but all the scenarios he could think of involved doing the one thing that was simply not an option; not to fight. All other realistic scenarios unavoidably involved casualties.
“If the replacements will be any good? I am not talking about the drones, I know they will do a good job, but I mean the new officers,” Herus asked, switching the topic and suddenly breaking the silence. His voice had regained some strength, but the sadness was still there, despite his efforts to suppress it.
“They visited the same academy as we did, went through the same training as we did. What do you think will be different about them?” asked Agrilus in return.
“That is what I am worried about. That there is nothing different about them.”
Agrilus shook his head. “I do not understand.” 49 was just as confused about what Herus meant.
“That they are as inexperienced as we are,” Vicis tried to explain.
Raising an eyebrow, Agrilus looked at Herus again.
“We were stunned the first time we were being shot at yesterday,” said Herus quickly before Agrilus could ask him if he meant to imply that they were incompetent. “What if they will be just as shocked?. What if they do terrible mistakes while under shock?
“Also, they have no connection to our drones, they don’t know them at all and would maybe not hesitate to risk their lives meaninglessly. Maybe even see them as expendable.”
Herus was talking quickly, his voice trembling with tension. He had put both his hands on his belt and had begun to tap his fingers with a quick rhythm on the brown leather.
“Don’t think of such horror scenarios. They are changelings like we are and trained like we are. I’m sure they will bond quickly with their drones. Also, if you find someling to be inappropriate for service, you can just ask the regiment to replace him.” Agrilus tried to further comfort Herus.
Herus swallowed and 49 could see his larynx jump as he did so. “But how many may die until I have sufficient evidence to enforce a replacement.”
The two officers fell silent again and before anyling could speak up again, something else caught the officer’s attention. Herus’s eyes suddenly shot up from the grave and focused on something in the far distance, Agrilus following suit.
49 tried to turn around inconspicuously to get a look at what Herus was looking at. At first, he could not find anything. 49 could only see the ponies digging and drones guarding them. Occasionally a group of ponies would emerge from the streets of the town, dragging more bodies to the grave. That was when he noticed two drones in bright blue uniforms and black pants. They were carrying something, but what it was, 49 could not see.
These drones were obviously not part of the ground forces, they were aerial infantry. The mobile shock units of the changeling army, equivalent to the Pegasi of the Equestrian army. Their black pants and sky-blue tunics did not fit in with the other drones they walked by whose uniforms were dirty and bloody from the fighting. Red cuffs and golden buttons decorated their sleeves. Their gaiters were in pitch black and polished. Attached to their belt on their left hip was a saber, its metal scabbard was as black and polished as the gaiters. The tip protector and the guard of the saber were made of shining metal. On their other hip was a holster for a pistol. The belt itself was leather coated with white paint. From their left shoulder to their right hip, they had an also white leather strap which held a long, tubular-formed scabbard on their back. Inside said scabbard was a lance. The lances were black, long and on their tip, just a few centimeters below the metal spike, was a small black and white flag that waved in the mild wind.
These two drones were light lancers, hence they did not wield rifles. Lancers were the most mobile of all the aerial forces, because they did not wear any armor except the spiked helmet all soldiers wore, nor did they have to carry ammunition for weapons, thus were often deployed as scouts, for sabotage missions, flanking maneuvers or to intercept enemy aerial troops.
They were now halfway up the hill, and 49 could get a closer look at them. He immediately noticed that one of the lancers also had a trumpet attached to his belt. As the two walked past drones of the 8. Batallion, 49 noticed that the uniform of the lancers was much tighter than the uniforms of his comrades. Their black pants were not baggy, but perfectly enveloped the legs of the drones to allow for better aerodynamic in the air. Their sky-blue tunics were just as tight, emphasizing the stature of the drones. Like 49 and his brethren, the lancers were rather tall, but they lacked the robust and muscular anatomy of the infantry. They had a very athletic body and slender limbs with well defined muscles.
The lancers had reached the top of the hill. Herus’ and Agrilus’ eyes followed them with interest as they walked over to the row of bodies. Only now did 49 get a look at what the two were carrying. The two lancers were carrying an improvised stretcher made off a tent tarpaulin and two long, straight branches. The stretcher was covered by another tarpaulin, and judging from the bulge, it covered yet another body.
They carefully placed the stretcher down at the end of the row, before assuming attention stance in front of the two officers.
“Herr Oberleutnant, Herr Leutnant,” the left lancer said, while saluting. “I am WD18512, this is WD18510. Our Schwarmführer did not want our comrade to be buried alone, thus he asked Hauptman Vicis for permission to bury him with your drones.”
There was a moment of silence.
Herus and Agrilus exchanged glances before Agrilus spoke up. “Very well. You are welcome to join the burial. We are almost ready as you can see.”
“What happened to him?” asked Herus, gazing at the newest addition to the row of bodies.
There was no immediate reply. The lancers glared at each other as if they were silently debating who would tell the grim tale. In the end, it was WD18512 who spoke up. “We were on a simple reconnaissance mission. Everything went well until we reached a small hut in a forest. Probably belonged to some lumberjacks. He approached on hoof to get a closer look, but the ponies had noticed us. And one of them was armed.”
Herus and Agrilus stayed silent for a few seconds after the drone had finished talking, like they were waiting for the end of the story although they already knew how it would end.
“It all went really fast after that shot was fired. The ponies were impaled on lances before they could fire another shot.”
“I see,” said Herus briefly.
While WD18512 had told the story of his fallen comrade, 49 and the others had finished digging and stepped out of the hole. He did one final thrust with his shovel, not to dig but to ram the shovel into the ground and rest his arms on its handle. If changelings were able to sweat, 49 would have swiped it off his forehead now. His arms felt like they were made out of wood, and they hurt. As were his hands. They were sore from the fraction of the shovel handle.
“Let`s not delay any further,” said Agrilus and clapped his hands, abruptly ending the thoughtful silence.
The drones assumed formation. From all over the city, drones that were not necessary for patrolling climbed up the hill. A block formed behind the officers and four drones took position at the left end of the row of bodies. They began to pick up the first two corpses, carefully lifting the bodies down in the grave. In slow and orderly fashion, the ceremonial procedure continued body after body. 49 stared at them, feeling a lump forming in his throat. There was something so unreal about this whole situation. His dead brothers were being buried, while elsewhere there was still fighting. This was just the third day, and he had a feeling that this would not be the last time he would attend such a ceremony. By far not the last one.
After the last body had been lowered to its final rest, the drones assumed attention stance at the right end of the grave.
One of the lancers advanced one pace. It was the one that had the trumped. He raised the instrument to his lips, the metal shining brightly in the noon sun. He took a deep breath and began to play.
The sound of the trumped was loud and clear, the notes echoing of the buildings and reverbing throughout the entire city. It was a simple melody, only one note at the time. And it was a sad melody. Its simpleness did not strip away any of its meaning. It was a song written by a drone trumpeter during the battle for Canterlot, as farewell for one of his fallen comrades. It was unknown who the composer was or who the drone this song was written for was, or when he died and how he died. The story told that when he began to play, all weapons in the ruined city ceased fire for a moment, as the soldiers listened to the melody of this changeling, as he honored and mourned his fallen friend.
It did not take long after the battle until this melody would earn an almost sacred status due to how perfect it aligned with the changelings’ spirit, militaristic ideology and national identity, becoming their symbol of heroic sacrifice.
49 struggled to keep his breath calm. Not even the most cold-blooded warrior could stay untouched and resist the melancholic feeling this song transmitted. Though its meaning was different for everybody and determined on personal experiences; the song made them all feel the same way, whether they lost somebody or not.
As the first notes filled the air, the officers raised their right hands for a salute. Green light suddenly began to radiate from them, as Herus and Agrilus ignited their horns. As 49 saw this, he and his brothers lowered their heads in devotion to the dead but ignited their horns as well. The green glow grew stronger but did not become bright. It was a gloomy light, almost unnoticeable under the bright sun and only actually visible due to the arcane aura surrounding the changelings’ horns, which was not affected by the sunlight.
This simple gesture, which ponies might mistakenly identify as a collective attempt to cast a spell, was in reality the changeling way to honor and show their respect. It took a lot of concentration and power for 40 to ignite his horn and keep it glowing, which only made the gesture more meaningful. The purposefully minimal magical abilities of the drones were to minimize their emotion consumption.
They stood like this for the duration of the song, just listening to the melody of the trumpet. As the ponies lowered their dead into the much larger grave, the drones guarding them also lowered their heads and ignited their horns, though not for the ponies.
As the trumpet fell silent, Herus could be heard taking a deep breath. “As the highest-ranking officer present, it is my honor to speak a few last words for our comrades.
“My dear comrades, at your duty’s end, we want to wish you farewell and thank you for your service. Though your time with us on the battlefield might have been short, the value of your deeds is unrivaled. Your sacrifice today, in the defense of everything we cherish shall never be forgotten and shall give all of us the strength to one day follow your example. It is the highest duty and highest honor for every changeling to give their life for queen and fatherland.
“Even if the world shall never learn what heroes you were, the changeling people always knew and always will know. By sacrificing our blood in battle, we shall expel the darkness the ponies try to drown us in. Every soldier that falls is another step towards the liberation of our people, and you made the starting steps today. With your unconditional willingness for even the greatest sacrifice, you are truly an iron generation, and nothing short of an iron generation will be able to overcome what lies ahead.
“But our future is none of your concerns anymore. You may rest now and for all eternity. There is no creature that deserves it more than you. Möge Gott euch im himmlischen Reich wilkommen heißen.”
Once finished, Herus bowed his head slightly. When he raised his head again, the drones picked up their shovels again and began burying their comrades with Equestrian soil.
As the drones were working, Agrilus turned to face Herus. “Herus, I know this is not adequate for the moment, but get your boys to clean up after this, Vicis ordered a general inspection in 40 minutes, so that we look presentable when the regiment arrives,” he whispered.
Herus shook his head in surprise. “What, the regiment?”
49’s ears perked up at the mentioning of the regiment. This was something important, he needed to know more.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, the regiment chose this town as location for the rendezvous. The other two battalions and the staff are already on their way to us,” Agrilus explained. “But neither Vicis nor I know where we will be heading after that.”
Herus scratched his neck with his right hand. “If that’s so. Sure, we will be ready.”
And so, it was. After the drones finished filling up the hole, they placed an improvised wooden cross on the small mount of dirt. They sent the ponies home, after they were also done with burying their people, and then gathered in a corner of the city square and quickly got to clean themselves up. The city square was already quite busy when they arrived. In one corner, some drones from the 6. Company were already dusting themselves off, and in another corner, drones gathered the wounded.
To clean their uniform in the field, the drones possessed a small brush. With said brush, they got to work on the stains on their uniform. The dirt and dust came off rather easily, but those who had blood on their uniforms could scrub as much as they wanted.
“Herr Oberleutnant!” one of the drones called out. “I can’t get the blood off.”
49 saw Herus walk over and kneeled next to the drone. The Oberleutnant inspected the bloody uniform.
“That requires professional cleaning.” He made a short pause. “Only the logistic has the means to get these stains out.”
Herus stood up again, straightening his back. “Listen up, everyling that has blood on his uniform, you will give your uniform in for cleaning once the regiment arrives. We can’t fix that as of now,” he proclaimed.
49 looked at his own tunic in his hands. The red stain from the day before was already completely dried into the fabric, he doubted that it could ever be removed. Only a few patches of dirt were on his sleeves from the digging. Working the brush, the dirt was quickly dealt with, But the dark spot on his chest stayed. While 49 put on his tunic again, he checked his pants and gaiters. They needed some brushing as well, and so he got to work. It was a welcome distraction.
“Achtung, Hauptmann von links!”
49 dropped his brush in surprise and jumped up, head turned left to face the approaching Hauptmann.
Hauptmann Vicis was rapidly approaching from the 6. Company, collar button of his uniform unbuttoned and slightly tilted Pickelhaube. When he was but a few meters away from Herus, the Oberleutnant saluted and reported, “7. Kompanie beim Ausrüstung säubern.”
“Very good,” Vicis said briskly. “Hurry up, the regimental staff will be here soon, and I want to quickly inform the battalion about the final state of the infantry reform. I just got the information from a courier.”
“Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann. But Herr Hauptmann,” Herus interjected, “what do we do about the blood?”
Vicis stared at Herus for a moment in confusion, then he glanced at one of the drones which had a huge red-brownish stain on its shoulder.
“Nothing. There is nothing we can do. View the stains as trophies for the time being.”
Herus clicked his hooves and silently saluted as Vicis turned around, “come now, we gather at the fountain.”
Hesitantly, the 7. company followed Vicis to the large fountain in the middle of the city square, soon joined by the other companies. As they gathered closely around Vicis, who had climbed on the edge of the fountain wall to be able to be seen by all, 49 noticed multiple curious pairs of eyes spectating them.
“Augen zu mir und Klappe zu!” Vicis barked, immediately silencing all the ongoing chatter. “As I said, I will now inform you about the upcoming changes regarding the organization of our unit.
“You all probably heard rumors about the upcoming changes, and that they are going to completely change how the army works and rearrange units. Let me calm all of you that feared such changes; the reorganization only involves the fields of responsibility, not the size or composition of units. To start off, the goal of the reform is to make the smaller units more independent and flexible, to increase our overall combat effectiveness and to adapt to the changing nature of war.”
Vicis pulled a piece of paper from one of his uniforms pockets and began unfolding it. “Firstly, the leadership roles of officer ranks will be changed. Platoons will no longer be led by drone Unteroffizieren, but by Leutnanten and Oberleuntnanten.”
Murmurs went through the crowd.
“Unteroffiziere will lead sections now, and the soldiers that lead the sections will lead squads,” Vicis spoke, raising his voice to silence the murmurs. “The raised demand for officers will be fulfilled by reserve officers or new officers that finished their training mere days ago and the need for Unteroffiziere and Gefreite will be fulfilled with field promotions.
“A company will now be led by a Hauptmann, and the Battalion by a Major. The idea behind this is to give the responsibilities the battalion had to the company, and to free the platoons from direct company command, thus creating smaller independent fighting units. The battalion will get a more organizational role, like the regiment has now. About the rank changes, your company leaders will all receive a promotion, as well as I. And as soon as the reform comes into effect, which will be in three days, I will no longer be leading the companies from the front, but from a tent somewhere behind the lines.”
Vicis said the last part with a hint of sadness and defeat in his voice. He had been a frontline officer for all of his career, being transferred behind a desk must have been a rough change for him.
“That was all the changes that affect us directly. The reform includes more changes, but those only matter to the divisions and armies. Lastly, I want to address the pressing issue of reinforcements and replacements. We have suffered greatly in the past days, and you should all be aware that it is only going to continue till this is over. When the regiment reunites, we are also supposed to receive replacements. They will be drones from Ersatz units, transferred to us to refill the ranks. We went over this topic a few times during your training, you know they are not the brothers you grew up with, but you know they will be your new comrades. I trust in your comradery that you will integrate them into your units as we have trained.” He did a pause to let it sink in.
New drones for established units. 49 was sure that it would work out just fine. After all, they were drones like them. Getting a non-drone replacement as leader of an established drone unit, that would be interesting. Expanding on that thought, maybe even the ranks would be filled by non-drone soldiers at some point. The changelings did not only have drones as common soldiers. Regular changelings also existed as soldiers in the military, though only in reserve units. Because the production, raising and training of new drones was quite time intensive, regular changelings were allowed into the army reserve, to be mobilized should the need for more units suddenly arise.
Hundreds of thousands of civilians, trained and ready to be called to arms. It remained to be seen if they would be mobilized, and if drone- and regular units would ever be mixed, or if the reserve units would be kept separate.
“The 8. and the 5. Kompanie will also receive new commanding officers, as their predecessors have courageously fallen for the fatherland.” Vicis looked like he was done, but as the Hauptmann was about to descend from the fountain’s exterior wall his right ear twitched. He stopped himself and looked to his right. Now 49 could hear it as well, a silent humming, still far away but approaching rapidly. All the heads of the 8. Batallion turned to face the source of the sound.
It was a single changeling, speeding towards them as fast as his wings could carry him. He wore a simple uniform, just as tight as the uniform of the aerial infantry for better aerodynamics, but without the bright colors and military insignia. His uniform was held in a simple dark green, with black cuffs, belt and carrying frame to which a flat satchel was attached.
With breakneck speed, the changeling hurled towards the gathered soldiers, coming to a halt dangerously close to Vicis on the fountain statue. Holding tightly to the arms of the statue, the changeling remained for a few seconds, before finally climbing down the statue and giving the Hauptmann a sharp salute, what almost caused him to lose balance on the exterior wall of the fountain.
“Royal courier service, I got a message for,” he fumbled at the satchel on his back, and somehow pulled a tan colored envelope out of it, reading the name of the recipient, “a Hauptmann Vicis of the 8. Infantry Battalion.”
“That would be me,” Said Vicis, slightly perplexed.
Without further words, the courier shoved the envelope into Vicis hands, did another clumsy salute and flew off again.
“Sorry, but I’m in quite a hurry,” was the last thing they heard from him before he was out of earshot.
The curious gazes of the drones turned back to the Hauptmann. Vicis looked back at the drones slightly puzzled as he tore open the envelope. Reading the message inside, Vicis’ eyes grew wider and wider.
“Boys, I think I got more to tell you,” Vicis said after a long period of silence.
“Here it says that I should read the first part out loud to my troops, so sharpen your ears.
“This is an official announcement of the supreme command of the changeling army to her majesty’s brave soldiers and officers. Five days before the publishment of this announcement, the Changeling empire and people got dishonored, insulted and threatened by the Equestrian brood in such a manner, that this invasion was the only adequate answer. Our nothing but peace-loving queen gave the order heavy hearted, but determined after all options of diplomacy were exhausted. Before diplomacy was ended, our beloved and benevolent queen Chrysalis had tried to engage in friendly talks with the Equestrian regime to finally end the tension and secure peace and prosperity for both countries. But her righteous and honorable attempts were brutally rejected, and our hand of friendship and tolerance was met with a fist of contempt, by those who claim to have friendship as state religion. This act of rejection displayed the ponies’ hypocrisy for the whole world to see.
“And as if that was not already a big enough attempt of humiliating our race, the ponies had to go further, threatening with war if we were not to stop all love gathering activities outside of our empires boundaries, practically asking us to be so kind and starve ourselves. To this outmost genocidal demand, we could only react in the outmost violent fashion to defend and ensure the survival of our kind.
“Read this to your subordinates to-“ Vicis stopped abruptly.
“So, for all of you wondering why we are fighting, this is the reason. A little late, but better late than never, am I right?” Vicis said, a slightly nervous tone resonating in his voice.
As he listened to Vicis, 49 was overwhelmed by a feeling of relief. All the uncertainty and anxiety he had felt was suddenly gone. The question of what was going on lingered in the back of his head ever since they left the hive. It had tormented him whenever his brain was not occupied. He had been afraid that they had been militarily attacked and was worried for the wellbeing of their people. But now that he knew what was really going on, 49 was certain that the deaths of his brother during the last days though tragic, were nothing less but an absolute necessity if they as a people wanted to persist.
However, this relief quickly gave way to wave of hatred,
Vicis put the paper into his left uniform pocket. “Let’s show these pastel abominations that we won’t just lay down and die. Let’s show them the wrath of the changelings!”
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. Chapter 1 Order and Disciplin
Chapter 1 Order and Disciplin
“AAACH-TUNG!”
The sharp yell was followed by the sound of hundreds of chitin-covered hooves hitting against each other. Like one creature, 864 changelings clicked with the heels of their hooves. The sound echoed throughout the cavernous parade ground and the many connecting corridors.
From the inside, changeling hives had similarities to a cathedral. Huge arching pillars on the edges of the hall supported a vaulted ceiling and big naturally grown stalactites embellished the imposing architecture. On these pillars hung huge black, white and turquoise banners. The dark walls were riddled with holes, all of them constantly changing and shifting their shape. Only the ground and tunnels were still. Hard, cool concrete carried the changelings and caused every step a creature took to be heard across the enitre floor.
Illuminated by dull green light, coming from magical lanterns inbetted into the walls and pillars, drones stood at attention in four blocks, arranged in a “U” like shape. Their posture was as stiff as a blank, heels together and hooftips spread out in an 45° angle. Their left hand pressed flat against the trouser, middle-claw perfectly placed on the seam. With their right hand, each changeling firmly held a rifle. Thumb-claw behind the barrel and index- and middle-claw placed on the shoulder strap. Rifle and bayonet reached all the way up to the armpit of the large drones. With each of them being exactly 1,92 meters tall, the drones towered over most other changelings and ponies. Their helmet with its characteristic metal spike on top even added few extra centimeters of height.
Their faces were staring straight forward, but their turquoise eyes were directed at a single, much smaller, changeling who stood in the main entrance of the parade ground in anticipation.
This changeling, that made the drones stand straight like lampposts, walked towards them until he stood in the centre of the formation. No, walking did not describe his gait at all. He marched into the centre of the formation, like he was on a parade.
Him standing this close to the drones visualized the differences between workers and drones. Drones were tall, robustly build and exorbitantly stoic. The other changeling was nothing like this, however. He was shorter than them and had a rather slender figure. His snout was short and round, and his fangs barely reached past his lips. The horn decorating his forehead was unusually straight and his eyes were more greenish than turquoise or blue.
In total he possessed about every body traits the changelings would associate with a weakling. If changeling society would still be how it used to be, he would be the one standing at attention, if he would get into the military in the first place. But things had changed. Now, an unimpressive changeling like him could posses total authority over a sizable number of changelings that were physically superior to him in every regard. He owed all of his authority to the two shoulder boards that sat neatly atop his shoulders, each of them made of silver cords and bearing two golden stars. These and his sprucely officer uniform were the new symbols of power and authority. Unthinkable in a society build upon the rule of the strongest, but now, a lot of social evolution later, very much possible.
This did not mean that everyling could just become whatever they want, of course. But positions in leadership in goverment, the new factories and the military were no longer solely bound to physical abilities.
When the changeling reached the centre of the formation, a similar looking changeling stepped forward and walked towards the officer. He was, like the other changeling, shorter than the drones and wore the same officer uniform. But instead of two he only had one star on each shoulder. Three steps away from his superior, the other changeling slammed his hooves together and saluted sharply. “Hauptmann Vicis, 8. Batallion complete and ready for inspection,” the changeling practically screamed.
Hauptmann Vicis, who had to slightly tilt his head back to look the bigger changeling in the eyes, returned the salute. “Danke, Herr Oberleutnant”
The Oberleutnant sidestepped to make place for Vicis, who walked past him. In front of the middle block of drones he stopped.
“The 7. Company at full strength of 216 drones, Herr Hauptmann,” the Oberleutnant introduced him.
“I know who they are, Oberleutnant Herus” Vicis hissed, “I was there when they hatched, I even gave them their designations.” Oberleutnant Herus winced before clicked with his hooves again and quickly uttered an apology.
Vicis did a dismissing hand gesture and stepped closer to the soldiers. Mere centimeters away from the drones, his experienced eyes searched for the smallest flaw on the drone’s uniform or equipment. But unsurprisingly, he could not find any. Everything was perfect. The buttons shone and reflected the omnipresent dimly green light of the hive, the leather of the pouches was polished that he could mirror in it and the rifles were in perfect condition. Everything was how it was to be expected.
It had become a kind of game between officers and drones to find or avoid flaws. But because the drones had only their duty in mind and life, it was not only unlikely but pretty much impossible to ever find anything that violated the service regulations.
Maybe he would find a flaw in the body hygiene of the drones. Vicis knew that due to all the focus on the equipment, some drones forgot to take proper care of their own bodies. Although, "no proper care," in this case meant, "forgot to trim their mane correctly" or "having collected dust in the holes in their arms and legs." He looked down the rows of identical faces. Walking along the rows of soldiers, his eyes were fixated on their faces. Suddenly he stopped.
The drone in front of him was no different form his brethren, nonetheless Vicis decided to take a closer look. He had a feeling that something was off about this one. Right over the collar of the drone´s uniform, clearly visible, was a white number tattooed into the side of his throat, “SD8749”. Vicis gaze traveled further up. The fangs of the drone were long, sharp, threatening and bright white, while his dark chitin skin looked smooth and well cared for.
Vicis snorted in annoyance. There had to be something, he knew it, he just had to find it. “Helmet off,” he commanded.
SD8749 did as ordered. With his free hand, he removed his helmet and held it in front of his chest. Vicis stretched his neck. The mane of the drone was cut short, combed back and held in place with pomade. Everything was exactly as the service regulations demanded it.
Although his skin looked alright, it did not hurt to double check. Vicis extended an arm to touch the drones chin. With two fingers, he slowly rubbed SD8749´s chin. It looked weird, but there was a reason behind it. If not cared for, the skin of a changeling would become rough and scratchy. But this one's skin was as smooth as polished wood, if not as cold and hard.
He grabbed the drones chin and turned his head gently from left to right, to check the drone’s ears. The dark grey, holey cones were clean, like everything else. But still, Vicis had this feeling that something was off.
“Sleeves up!”
SD8749 put his helmet back on his head and rolled his sleeve up.
Vicis used two of his claw like fingers to swipe across the rim of a large hole in the drone’s forearm. From the shudder of SD8749´s face, Vicis could tell that the drone was uncomfortable with the intimate touch. But it did not matter, this was necessary, this was routine.
Vicis retracted his claws and looked at their tips. No dust.
“Do you have a nickname, drone?” Vicis asked and rose an eyebrow questioning.
“No, Herr Hauptman,” SD8749 responded immediately while he pulled his sleeves back down. His voice was young, and nervosity swung in it, Vicis could sense it.
Not even a nickname? Vicis thought. I can literally smell that something is off about this one . But he ran out of ideas. Maybe the drone was just nervous because he took such a close look?
Like the inspection three 3 hours ago, everything was in perfect condition and ready. He did not expect to find anything on the other drones. Searching would be a waste of time. With a frustrated snort, Vicis turned around. “Dismiss them,” he said to Herus and walked off without further words. The Oberleutnant, bewildered by the action of the Hauptmann, needed a moment before he took action.
"Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann."
“8. Battalion, wegtreten!” he screamed on top of his lung.
Hours later.
The inspection was long over. In fact, in these few hours, there have been three other inspections. One to inspect the rooms and beds, one to inspect the weapons and one where the entire garrison that was stationed in the hive got inspected by their commanding General von Stechen. Live in the barracks was ruled by order and disciplin, the constant inspections making sure it stayed like that. At least it was a Saturday, so there were no drills or field exercises.
Now the drones of the 8. battalion experienced the rare case of free time. Although free time may not have been the most true name for it. The drones mostly used this time to repair equipment or uniforms, do penalty drill or attending in “voluntary” work in the hive. When they were not doing that, they did things to actually enjoy themselves. Chatting with comrades or to taking a nap were the only things that made the drones actually feel like living and not functioning.
SD8749 was doing neither of that. He was alone in the small quatres of his squad. It was a quite narrow, boringly grey room. On each side of it stood two bunk beds and two lockers. At the end of the room, across the door, was one single bed owned by their squad leader. That was it. They had no table, no chairs. Just their beds and lockers.
SD8749 sat on the edge his bed, helmet laying on his pillow, pondering and looking down onto his hands. They were black like the rest of his body and his fingers were razor sharp claws, like the talons of the griffons. The difference between them and griffons was that the changelings’ claws were sharper and due to their chitin skin not as easily flexible. In his claws he held his field cap. He had finished repairing the cap just minutes ago. Earlier that day, before the first inspection, one of the two cockades had fallen off. Throughout the entirety of the inspections his heart thumped like a machine gun and pumped an unhealthy amount of adrenaline through his body. He had to get it back on before anyling noticed, but he had no time to sew.
But soldiers could improvise. It was their life insurance in battle. So, he “borrowed” some cocoon material from the hatchery and used its sticky consistence to glue the thing on for the time being.
When everything was over, he finally got to sew it back on. Not a particular easy task for a creature with fingers meant to be weapons, not tools. Let alone for a creature with such bad fine motoric skills like a drone. But eventually, after what felt like an eternity of blood, sweat and tears, he had managed to sew the damn thing back on.
SD8749 liked the cap, at least when he was not just performing open heart surgery on it. That was how sewing felt like for him. It was a circular, field gray cap without visor and big enough to cover the ears of the drones and not just the top of their head. The front of it was marked by two small round cockades. One of them resembling their Empire, the other one resembling the hive the drone came from. Each greater hive and its territory had their own color code. In the case of SD8749´s hive, it was black, white, black.
The reason he liked the cap was of pure practical nature. This cap was way more comfortable to wear then their helmet. Their leather helmet was in no way as durable as it looked but in at least just as uncomfortable as it looked. The drones knew that it would never protect them from any shrapnel or similar. Back in the day, it was designed to block attacks from above with its metal spike, but the times of sword, axe and spear were long over. Now it was mostly just a symbol for their military and militarism.
The cap and helmet were part to a new set of uniform the drones received on their first day in basic training. They were the first generation of drones to use fabric uniforms. Before them, drones used armor made of synthetic chitin. But since the invention of firearms rendered armor useless, many nations started to use uniforms of fabric instead of armor and the changelings did what they do best and imitated the others.
The uniform the changelings had come up with was made of thick and durable fabric colored in a simple field gray. The uniform had silver-colored buttons and turquoise piping. Between hoof and leg, the soldiers wore brown leather spats. They protected the end of the pantleg and kept the pant dry, should they have to traverse smaller waters.
There was only one real downside to the uniform. A warm and thick uniform might be nice in autumn, winter and spring, but in the summer, it was way too warm for SD8749´s liking. On hot summer days he felt like he was about to melt.
Their uniform was like a second skin for them. It was their shell, it made them belong somewhere, giving them security and making them feel safe in their bodies and life. What would they be without it? Just a bunch of identical bugs without purpose.
Around the waist, the soldiers had a belt of brown leather, which they always had to wear except when going to sleep. The metal belt buckle had their coat of arms engraved on it, together with the words, “GOTT MIT UNS.”
The god the changelings believed in had nothing to do with the goddesses the ponies believed in. For the changelings, the alicorns were just massive frauds. Their religion taught them to enlighten the world with the torch of truth.
Because SD8749 was distracted by his thoughts and because his hearing ability was slightly damaged due to the noise of grenades, rifles- artillery- and machine gun fire from the exercises, he did not notice the changeling that stood in the always open door and observed him.
“Hey, 49! It´s time for dinner, the others are already waiting.”
SD8749s ears twitched at the sudden sound of a familiar voice calling for him. It was his own voice talking to him.
He looked up from his cap and into the face of SD8750, who leaned with crossed arms against the doorframe of the small room, they and seven other drones called home. SD8749 did not see the tattoo on his brother’s throat, but that wasn’t necessary. He knew it was SD8750. How that was possible though was beyond him. It just worked.
SD8750 looked at his brother, waiting for a response. He the drone SD8749 had the closest relation to. He was so to say his best friend. Biological speaking, SD8750 was also SD8749's direct younger brother.
“Did you hear me?” Asked SD8750 again, this time a bit louder and slightly more annoyed as SD8749 showed no signs of reacting. “49?”
“Hm?” SD8749 growled.
“Did you hear me, 49?” repeated SD8750, this time abundantly clear and loud.
That was the last and most important part of his Identification number: SD8749, which meant written out; Schützendrone – eighth battalion – seventh company – soldier number 49. It was a very common procedure in the changeling army to reduce the drones to the last two digits of their identification number.
49 thought about it for a second and then shook his head, “could you repeat it, please?”
SD8750 rolled his eyes. “I asked if you´re finally coming for dinner. The others are already eating.”
49 nodded, put the cap on his head and jumped of his bed to follow SD8750 to the canteen.
Something bothered 49. He looked over to his brother who walked next to him and said, “By the way, why do you always have call me 49? You know my ID is SD8749. The service regulations-”
SD8750 rolled his eyes again. “Oh please. Even Vicis does it. There is a reason the rules are vague about this topic. SD8749 is way too long. If it helps ease your mind, think of it not as a nickname but as a quicker and more efficient way to adress your brothers.”
“Okay, fifty,” 49 replied while they walked down a long, surprisingly empty hallway.
50 flinched. “But you dont have to call me that. I’m trying to get a real nick name. 50 sounds stupid.”
“And you think forty-nine sounds any better?” 49 asked amused.
50 didn´t answer.
The two drones walked with quick and long steps down the countless corridors in silence. On their way the two drones came by many other drones and officers. The hive was as busy as always. The noise of hoof steps and conversations never ceased, not even at night.
Corridor after corridor, hall after hall, intersection after intersection. Barrack hives were even more confusing than normal hives and cities. There were so many changelings that had to be cramped into a hive of moderate size to house a whole division that they needed an obscene number of halls, corridors and hallways to avoid creating bottlenecks.
The sound of hooves on the cold stone floor echoed off the walls. It was constant noise. Hallways were never truly empty. Hurrying from one place to another, drones, officers and civil employees walked down the hallways. On their way, 49 and 50 heard the barking of an Unteroffizier. “Hinlegen! Auf, marsch marsch! Hinlegen!”
As they got closer, they heard bodies hitting the ground, then hooves running, then the sound of bodies hitting the ground again. And running again. And dropping again. And running again.
“Ich mach euch Feuer, bis euch das Wasser im Arsch kocht!“ a Unteroffizier bellowed. “Faster!”
Immediately, 49 had pictures of himself in mind, how he had to throw himself into the sand just to stand up again, run a few meters, and then dive into the dirt again. Or even worse, doing the same thing in autumn, but outside in the muddy fields. And all the while the Unteroffiziere would yell at them to get going. Whoever had to do this kind of drill on a weekend had to have made a big mistake.
Unteroffizier was the highest rank a drone could reach. Unteroffiziere were drones but with the power to give orders, hated and loved for their strictness, leadership and care. They stood between officers and drones on the hierarchy.
49 pushed memories of their basic training aside.
Suddenly, a sound that didn’t belong to the usual background noise caught their attention. They stopped to listen for a moment. It was a trumpet. Curiosity won over haste. Resuming their quick pace, they followed the sound of the instrument. Just two corridors further they found the source. The divisional band was practicing in one of the bigger multipurpose halls. In front of a large door, an audience of drones had already gathered, blocking half of the corridor.
Despite their hurry, 49 and 50 joined their brothers and listened. They immediately recognized the song the band was playing. It wasn’t really a march, rather a prestige project to prove a band´s worth. The trumpet solo was distinctive. At least just as distinctive were the lyrics the drones had composed to accompany the song. By far not an official song but chanted with just as much and usually even more enthusiasm.
One telling look of one of the drones was enough. They were all thinking the same. They waited with anticipation for the trumpet to finish its solo. As soon as the trumpeter stopped, and the rest of the musicians joined in again the drones began to chant.
“So leben wir, so leben wir. So leben wir alle Tage. Bei der allerschönsten Saufkompanie.
So leben wir, so leben wir. So leben wir alle Tage. Bei der allerschönsten Saufkompanie.
Des Morgens bei dem klaren Wein. Des Mittags dann beim Bier. Vor Morgengrauen gehen wir nicht Ins Nachtquartier
Des Morgens bei dem klaren Wein. Des Mittags dann beim Bier. Vor Morgengrauen gehen wir nicht Ins Nachtquartier.“
The conductor, a short changeling of convex stature, turned his head as soon as he heard the uninvited chorus accompanying his´s bands play. His upper lip twitched, his eyes were fixated on the mob of drones and his right ear flicked nervous.
The only effect his furious glare had however was that the drones began to laugh.
“Disrespectful pack,” he scolded and continued mumbling, “We have not bred you to mutilate our art and culture.”
The group of drones quickly disbanded. Not all officers were good to them. While all the drones liked to have their fun as a change from their dreary everyday life, none of them actually wanted to risk getting into trouble. The band began playing something else and 49 and 50 continued their way to the canteen.
49 and 50 turned another corner and reached the mess hall.
The mess was one of the biggest halls in this hive and undoubtedly the busiest one. Inside the mess hall it was always extremely lively, no matter the time. Hundreds if not thousands of changelings from all different unites either sat on long tables or waited in an even longer queue for their daily rations of food and conserved emotions. Hearing loud chatter was always a sign that you were near the mess hall.
From the walls hung giant banners bearing the flag of their country. Black, white and turquoise. Between two of the many massive pillars supporting the ceiling hung a large white cloth with the writing “Whether night or day, through storm and rain, we will end the pony reign!”
There were no windows. Nowhere in the hive were windows. The only source of the dimly green light were primitive magic powered lamps that were embedded into the walls or pillars. Electricity was thing, but that technology was so new that a barrack hive near the border to Equestria had no hope of acquiring it.
Today the canteen was even busier than usual. The line of waiting changelings reached all the way out on the hallway.
49 and 50 lined up at the end of the queue and took out their ration cards. After a solid 20 minutes of waiting , they finally reached the head of the line. After they got their rations, the drone responsible for dishing out the rations put a halfhearted stamp on their card and said, “Next.”
They had never received more than three barely satisfying and most of the time cold meals a day. 49 growled as he looked at the food he carried.
All of this because the ponies drove them away from the fertile lands and banished them into the far west so long ago. The ponies hated them, because they were not like them. And they feared their might. Stabile food and emotions supply was never given. The ponies, especially the alicorns wanted them all to starve to secure their own rule.
These thoughts brought him to boil and could have been enough to spoil his appetite, but they did not. His hunger was too great. As it was always.
With their rations on a metal tray: a raw looking piece of meat, a small piece of a loath of bread on a plate, a glass of water and a metal bottle-like container filled with emotions, the two drones went to look for the rest of their unit. They found them at the end of one of the long tables. The other drones of their platoon, SD8701 - SD8772, were eating or already done doing so.
49 and 50 sat to their brothers and quietly began eating as suddenly, another drone came to their end of the table. This drone looked diffrent in comparison to the others, although he had the same face, he was less tall but more muscular. He definitely did not belong to their platoon. He did not even look like an infantry drone.
“Good evening,” the drone said in a happy and friendly tone. Too happy and friendly. 49 knew who he was, there was no need to look at his ID. He did so anyways when the newcomer turned his head to look for something. The designation of the drone in question was KD4520. (KD4520= Kanonier Drone 4. artillery battalion – 5. battery – cannoneer number 20)
Artillerists. 49Thought . Always so cheerful .
Not that he had a problem with his brethren from the artillery, but their job and officers were as different from the infantry as it gets. The drones of the artillery had a whole different view on almost all sorts of things. Schützendronen knew their life would be cut short by their duty, that influenced their way of thinking greatly. SD8749 lived his life knowing that every day could be his last.
This difference made their priorities and expectations of live hard to understand for the others. Serving and fulfilling their duty stood above all else for 49 and his brothers. Artillerists on the other hand, in relative safety behind the frontline and a lot more liberal officers had interests in things an Infantry drone would only see as a huge waste of time.
This caused tension between them from time to time, but nothing serious. They were brothers after all. They had the same blood flowing through their veins, fought for the same queen, had the same foe. 49 had never even thought about fighting, taunting, bullying or humiliating his brother because of such unimportances.
Taking a sip from his water, his thoughts drifted off.
He had heard stories about the queen's guard. How they treated eachother. The guard was like detached from progress. Their internal structures had not changed sinced the days of the great swarms. Internal rivalries, selfish behaviour, superiority complexs, survival of the fittest and no camaraderie. Everything as it was in the past. 49 knew of only one competition between guard and army. It had been a simulated battle with two phases. Each side had to attack and defend once. The drones had humiliated the guards in front of the entire nation, winning in both phases. The guards, offspring of the queen herself, defeated by presumed cannon fodder. There had not been a single joint action between the army and the guard since.
KD4520, who ate almost every day with them, was looking for a free seat. He belonged to one of the heavy artillery units of their regiment. He was a good friend of 49's platoon leader, at least that´s what he always claimed. Although none of the drones of 49´s platoon knew how and why KD4520 and their Zugführer got friends, they never bothered to ask. SD8701 had never said anything contradicting KD4520´s story. Thus, why bothering?
“Good evening,” 49 replied halfheartedly with a full mouth, while KD4520 sat next to him, looking for SD8701. All the while he continued talking about stuff 49 decided to not be worth listening too. It was only the chatter of an artillerist after all, but it amazed 49 time and time again with how many irrelevant things an artillerist could spend his time with. For example, yesterday KD4520 enthusiastically told them about a pony mare, that unknowingly wandered to far westward, he and his comrades had spotted.
49 could not understand how a soldier, a drone no less, could be so excited about such trifles. And then also a pony. A pony of all beings. 49 guessed it was just because it was something new for them. He had never met or even seen a real pony, he had only heard the stories.
Ignoring the babbling of KD4520, 49 turned his attention back to his plate with meat and bread. He took the loaf of bread and tore out a big piece with his sharp fangs. It tasted the same as every day, extremely dry and bland. The bread was so dry in fact that 49 struggled to swallow it. He had to take a sip from his water to force it down his throat. The meat on the other hand was like old leather and 49 couldn´t make out what animal it was from.
49 grabbed his emotion ration. Yes, emotions, not love. He hesitated. He was hungry, but not for food. It felt like there was a large hole in his chest, which threatened to consume his very soul. Nothing could close this hole, 49 thought, while looking at the metal container. It was always there, trying to consume him from within. First it took his strengh, then it would take his life. 49 took the metal bottle and bit on the underside of the bottleneck what caused a build in mechanism to open the bottle and release its content.
A warm, slimy stream of energy left the bottle and snaked down the changeling’s throat. From the outside, one could see the energy glowing in a flurry of colors through his skin. The energy was a weird mixture of all sorts of different happy emotions that came close enough to love. It served as a temporary plug for the hole inside his chest. As long as foreign emotions were sucked into the hole, his own energy would persevere.
The energy flooded his body and 49 felt his strength returning. It was a good feeling. The taste was indescribable, though. Not because it was so bad or so good, but because it were so many emotions, so many flavors mixed together that it was impossible to describe. Sometimes, 49 wondered if real love tasted and felt anything like what they had consume. But drones would never had the luck to experience the taste of real love.
Luckily for them, they did not need real love to try to fill the bottomless void. Their genetics got modified so that their body could use every kind of emotions to function. Handy in the midst of battle. The soldiers could just feed of the hate, anger and fear of the enemy forces. It would not taste great, by no means, but it would at least keep them alive.
49 did not understand the biology behind it, but he felt the exhaustion that came up whenever he did not regularly consume emotions. Consuming other beings emotions was like drinking or eating for them. Sometimes 49 felt like one of those Vampires from the pony books, KD4520 told him about.
“Hey 49, Are you Okay?”
49 raised his head to see where the voice was coming from all of the sudden. He had ignored all the chatter going on around him, but the sound of his number had caught his attention immediately. 49 looked at 50, who looked questioning back at him.
“What do you mean?” 49 asked, slightly confused.
“You look so absent,” Explained 50. The tone of worry was subtle, almost unnoticeable and overshadowed by the sound of confusion, in the voice of 49's brother.
“Yes, I´m fine. I was just thinking,” said 49 dull. He swallowed at the thought that some officers and other changelings would probably start laughing about this statement.
“We are arguing about what´s the best way to kill an alicorn,” said 50. “What do you think?”
49 thought about it for a moment. The topic was tasteless and blunt. “Bullet to the head of course, or split their skull with a shovel.”
50 smilled and nodded agreeing, but KD4520 was outraged. “How? How do you even plan on getting close to them? blow them to kingdom come once we know their location is way more effective!” he said.
“But what is your plan to get to know their location? You think the ponies will just tell us?!” SD8748 intervened.
"Well, our infiltrators-"
49 just nodded it off and began losing himself in his thoughts again while 50, who now got supported by 48, continued to argue with KD4520. The quiet was pleasant. Though the hundreds upon hundreds of changelings around them all chattered and laughed, it was calmingly quiet. No officers shouting at them, no orders and for once no regulations. Although he couldn’t live without these things, a break from them every once in a while, was pleasant.
But this blessed silence did not last long. Suddenly, a magically amplified voice interrupted the monotone noises of the mess hall. "GEFECHTSALARM"
Can´t I get a moment of peace? 49 thought to himself as the voice was followed by a loud steam whistle, creating a long and continuous sound.
Without a moment of hesitation every changeling, from soldier to officer, stopped with whatever they were doing and immediately ran out of the mess to their stations or quarters. What looked like utter chaos was in fact a well-planned procedure.
Through set and trained routs, the changelings navigated through the narrow tunnels and corridors which were now even fuller than normal. The entire population of the hive was on the move. Streams of soldiers rushed up and down the hallways.
49 and his comrades ran out of the mess and followed the flow of other soldiers to their quarters.
There. he grabbed his already with ammunition filled pouches, his canteen, bread bag, shovel and bayonet Frosch. He attached everything to his belt and put on his Sturmgepäck with Zeltbahn. This backpack held the various other things a soldier would need in the battlefield: food, medical supplies and basic tools. While running out again, 49 just put his helmet over his cap.
With their equipment, the drones left their quatres again and rushed for the armory. Around the armory was a massive crowd. The changelings in the armory worked with amazing speed as they streamlined handed out rifles.
Out in the long main hallways of the hive again, 49 and the others integrated into the mass of changelings that rushed out of the hive onto the large surrounding plains. There, over twenty-one thousand changelings came together. The entire 1. Infanterie Division that was stationed here gathered and was waiting for further instructions.
Rather quickly they were told that it was just an exercise and that they should return to their quatres, yet they were not given an all-clear.
Confused and slightly nervous, the soldiers entered the hive again, a lot slower than they had left it.
Back in their room, 49 and his brothers sat on their beds. Their rifles were standing in a corner of the small room and their backpacks laid packed next to their beds. They had not even taken of their helmets.
49 sat on the edge of his bed, restlessly swinging his legs. What is going on? he wondered. Ever since their officers left them alone, rumors about a pony invasion were spreading. These did not particularly help to ease 49's mind. If the ponies really attacked, he thought, why are we still here? Shouldn't we be the first to be send to the front? I mean, we are the closest to the border in this area.
And so they waited, unsure about what would happen and what had happened. 49 expected them to be ordered out of the hive again any moment, but nothing happened. They just sat there and talked until the order to go to sleep was given.
As 49 pulled his thin blanket all the way up to his chin, he still felt uneasy. He wanted action, he wanted to fight the ponies but most importantly he wanted to know what was happening and if they were under attack. But of course, noling came to tell the drones what was going on.
It was a restless night. Not only for 49 but for all the changelings in the hive. The next morning, Vicis sent them out of the hive again. Their Hauptman looked like he had not gotten any sleep at all last night. While they walked past Vicis, 49 could not help but feel like he knew more than them. 49 was sure that Vicis must had an idea of what would happen.
They were not the only ones leaving the hive again. Like the day before, the whole population was leaving the hive. Something was different this time, though. This time they were not just gathering as units, however, this time they were set up in parade formation. At this point 49 stopped trying to make a sens out of it all. He just followed his orders and waited to see what happened.
Finally, after several minutes of waiting something happened. To their surprise, their division's commander showed up. It had to be something really important then. General von Stechen climbed on a pile of boxes to stand over the crowd. He held a piece of paper in his hands and began to speak, “Drones, officers, listen! Your Queen has spoken to the people and i am now reading what she has to say."
His voice, amplified by a simple spell, roared over the soldier's heads and got thrown back by the outer walls of the hive, creating an ominous echo.
"To the changeling people. Since the founding of our Empire, it was due to many years of my and my ancestor’s rule, but of course, also due to your work, my beloved changeling people, that peace persisted, and our nation blossomed. But the enemy envies the success of our hard work and fears that our might would one day overpower his.
“We have endured all of the obvious and quiet hostilities from Equestria and her puppets, conscious of our responsibility and power. But now they want to humiliate us once more. They demand that we stand with crossed arms and watch, how our enemies arm up for a treacherous attack. They won’t allow us that we stand in determined loyalty with all of our hives, which fight for their right to be part of our empire against equestrian aggression, and with whose humiliation, our own power and honor will be lost too.
“It must be the sword that decides. In the midst of peace, the enemy attacks us to impose their as harmony disguised slavery on us. So, stand up, to arms. Every hesitation would be treason on the fatherland. It is about the be or not to be of the empire, which our ancestors founded. About the be or not to be of changeling might and changeling nature.”
While he spoke, there was complete silent around him. The crowd listened like spellbound. 49 could not believe what he was hearing. Would they finally get their chance to fight for the fatherland like their ancestors? Would they get to defeat the ponies and bring eternal glory to their race?
“We will fight back to the last breath of drone, worker and queen. And we will survive and persist this fight even against a world of foes. Never before were the changelings beaten when they were united.
Forward with God, who will be with us, like he was with our ancestors.”
Von Stechen lowered the paper and fell silent and the only sound that persisted was the echo of his voice and the wind that blew over their heads.
“Our orders are simple,” Von Stechen spoke up again after a short break. “Mere hours ago, the OHL ordered total mobilization. We, the 1. Infantry Division “Treue” have the orders to immediately cross the Equestrian border and be the spearhead of the first army. We will lead the invasion. This preemptive strike must be quick and final.
“The ponies crossed the line. And not just the metaphorical line, but our borders in bellicose intent. Finally, after all these years of starvation and humiliation and denial, we have the chance to avenge all our race unworthy cruelties done to us by the ponies. Today marks the beginning of a new era. Your generation has the indescribable luck of fighting this most important war for the fatherland. You will purge this world of harmony and the scum that is the Equestrian royalty!” von Stechen shouted.
The crowd erupted in rejoice.
Author's Note
This chapter is a lot longer than the previous chapter. This is length i am aiming for with the following chapters. Also, here is a concept drawing i did of the drones to show how i imagined their looks. Can you guess which country their uniforms are inspired by?
Chapter 5 No matter the risk
Author's Note
This chapter got a lot longer than expected. Also during the writing and editing process, I experienced a lot of technical problems and stress due to work, which might be noticeable in the quality of this chapter. Sorry in advance. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, and if you find any spelling or grammatical mistakes let me know so I can fix them. Hope you enjoy anyways!
Chapter 5 No matter the risk
“Okay, let’s go through the plan one more time,” whispered SD8701, 49´s direct superior and Zugführer.
Their platoon, or what was left of it, hid behind a ridge that was the edge of a forest. Said forest bordered the entire left flank of the city and the fort of the guards they were about to attack.
It was almost noon, and the sun was high up in the sky, but despite that it was pretty cold. Freezing wind howled through the rows of trees, sending shivers down their spines. It was unusually cold for the midst of summer.
Earlier that day, the first supply trains finally caught up to them. They brought no replacements or food, only bullets and grenades. “Priorities. You can fight without food, but you can’t fight without ammunition,” they told the drones. “But don’t worry, food is on its way.”
After restocking bullets and grenades, they dismantled their camp to get into attack positions around the town. The name of the settlement was unknown, as were the numbers of the garrison troops. When making the strategy for the attack, the officers were just helplessly looking at each other, because noling knew where to start. In the end they settled for attacking from all directions at once, in the hopes of finding and exploiting a weak spot and catching the enemy of guard.
The 7. company was given the task to take out or at least distract the guards stationed in the small fort that seemingly served as their barracks, while the other units tried to overrun and secure the city. If only the recon drones would have been able to get a closer look, That would have made planning the attack a lot easier. But if they had gotten any closer, they would have alarmed the ponies.
While 01 began explaining their position again, 49 was only listening with one ear. He had heard this before when he overheard the officers planning, he had heard this when the officers consulted the Unteroffiziere and when the Unteroffiziere informed their units.
“On my sign, we advance in Schützenreihen towards the walls with the company. Throw grenades over them as soon as you are close enough and then climb over. Try not to get spotted by the watchtowers when approaching. No prisoners, no survivors, but keep the civilians unharmed. We still need them. If we take the fort, we advance towards the city center. If we don’t take this fort, may good help us,” explained SD8701with dry voice. “Questions?”
The drones shook their heads. SD8701 nodded once and took a small silver watch out of his pocket.
49 pulled his rifle closer to his body and switched the safety to firing mode. The blade of his bayonet was still bloodied from the last fight. He could still smell the mixture of blood and connect the scents to their pony of origin. He cursed himself for forgetting to clean it at the river the day before and he swore to clean it as soon as this fight was over.
If he was still alive.
A moment passed.
Tension built up and it was grueling. When were they finally attacking? And how many foes would they be facing?
Another moment passed.
SD8749 felt a weird feeling deep inside his chest. An uncomfortably pressing pain that increased the more time went by. He could still feel the knot from yesterday in his chest. He wanted to do something. Anything.
Another moment passed.
49 hated waiting.
01 was still staring at his watch.
The gap between them and possible death got smaller and smaller. There was no guarantee they would survive, but they all knew that. They were all ready for that. So why was he nervous?
Another moment passed.
Or was he actually nervous? His thoughts raced. He had heard that nervosity is displayed by shaking hands. 49 removed one of his hands from his rifle and looked at it. His claws were completely motionless. No trembling. No unintentional movements at all.
He grabbed his rifle with both hands again.
More moments passed.
He was excited. Excited to be in battle again. Ever since the battle yesterday ended, 49 felt a strange sensation pulling him eastwards towards the enemy. Every dead brother of his strengthened that drive. The desire for blood, revenge and victory.
He was excited, but also, he was not. He knew what could happen, he was not oblivious and that lowered his excitement immensely. Though 49 had tried his best to shake off these thoughts, he could not help but notice the part of his mind that was greatly concerned. He wondered just how weak he was. Just one battle and he was already thinking like this. Maybe it was smart. Cautiousness kept soldiers alive. Cautiousness and a lot of luck. He hoped he was lucky today.
49 looked over to SD8750. Seeing his brother’s determined expression gave him a feeling of security and relief. He looked around. All the other drones shared that expression. It was oddly comforting to see how determined his comrades were about the whole thing. It strengthened his own determination. He was not afraid. He would not hesitate to give his life if it was necessary. He would fulfill his duty. But that did not mean that he did not prefer to stay alive.
His thoughts began to wander off. They still had not gotten any reliable intel about the numbers of the enemy. But that did not lower their confidence. If anything, it only strengthened their will to take this city. They knew that as long as they were surprising the ponies, victory was almost certain.
After a few more uncomfortable moments of waiting, SD8701 closed his watch, raised his arm, stretched out his claws and waved towards the fort. This was the signal.
As soon as the signal was given, the uncomfortable pressure in 49's chest disappeared, as did the cold of the air. All feelings were suddenly gone. The only thing that mattered was the order and that it got fulfilled.
The changelings rose from the cover they had blended in perfectly. From a wide section of the forest small groups of drones emerged. The 7. Kompanie formed twenty-four rows, but almost none of them had the proper full strength of 9 drones. They had taken heavy casualties yesterday.
Like a salvo of arrows, the rows of soldiers crossed the fields, directly and swift, approaching form three sides. Unnoticed by the ponies, the changelings gathered around their walls, ready to strike. As 49 and his group arrived at their part of the wall, they pulled their grenades out from their belts and got ready to throw.
They waited quietly for further instructions. On the other side, 49 could hear quiet chatter of the ponies.
The more enemies they killed with that first strike, the less they would have to shoot afterwards. They had not practiced attacking fortifications a lot. Not even remotely as much and intense as the pioneers. They had always focused on fighting in fields and forests. Still, everyling knew where to throw their grenades, where to stand and everything worked without verbal communication.
On the signal of their group leader, they primed their grenades and shortly after, seven of them flew over the palisade. Together with the grenades of the other groups, over one hundred grenades made their way over the wall. Some flew far and some flew short, to max out the area of death. They heard the quiet thuds of the impacts of the grenades on the ground on the other side. Then there was a second of silence where they heard absolutely nothing until the sound of multiple explosions tore the silence, followed by screams of ponies in agony or panic.
Meanwhile, the changelings got over the wooden palisade. Fortunately for them it was not that high. One of the soldiers got close to the wall to help the others over. He crouched down and formed a step with his hands. 49 was the first to climb. He stepped onto the hands of his brother with one hoof and his brother pushed him up. With that momentum he got high enough to get a hold on the top of the wall. He pulled himself up and climbed over the top. Then he jumped down and stood at the edge of chaos. The others followed suit.
The fort was not actually a fortress. It was a large square field covered by tents and surrounded by the wall. On one side of the square was a larger wooden building next to the wall.
Inside the walls was utter chaos. Ponies ran all over the place, rushing to get into their uniform and chest armor. Only few of them were actually ready for combat. On the ground in front of him, 49 saw a pony laying in a puddle of its own blood, holding the leftovers of one of its legs and screaming horrified. The brown uniform of the pony slowly turned to a way darker shade as it soaked up the blood. 49 raised his rifle and shot at the first pony that came into his view. He completely ignored the pony on the ground. It was no threat with that missing leg.
Only when the shot echoed through the fort and the pony dropped to the ground, the others noticed the changeling in their camp. But, at this point it was already too late. Changeling after changeling climbed over the wooden walls from all directions and began shooting into the mass of unorganized ponies.
The drones did not stand still. They moved and gave each other covering fire. From cover to cover, slow and steady, they advanced. Their constant shifting of their formation preventing the ponies from concentrating their fire.
Despite all the adrenalin in his blood that helped his body to transport enough oxygen with his blood, despite being shot at, despite facing death, his training kept him completely untouched by the events unfolding in front of him and focused.
But a strong beam of bright light caught him of guard. He winced as the thick column of bright blue light shot past him, feeling the heat it radiated and the air vibrating around it. The magic missed 49 only by centimetres and hit another drone that stood a little behind him. The impact was so strong that the changeling got shoved back almost five meters. He might have gotten thrown away even further, but the wall stopped him. With a loud thud he hit the wood. In his stomach gaped a huge hole. The magic had fully burned through his body.
It was a clean cut. The wound had been cauterized by the heat of the blast. There were no organs hanging out or blood flowing in rivers. Burned flesh and blood sealed the inwards. With wide open eyes the changeling stared at the giant hole in his abdomen before he collapsed like a bag of flour, revealing a circle of burned wood behind him, where the magic had left his body and hit the wall.
49 looked in the approximate direction that blast came from and indeed, he spotted unicorn standing surrounded by other ponies. It´s horn and hands were still surrounded by a bright blue aura. In fact, it looked like it was about to charge up for a new attack. No magic today, huh? he thought bitter.
Aligning his iron sights on the unicorn´s chest, 49 pulled the trigger. His gun kicked, smoke emerged from its muzzle and the unicorn was knocked over by the hit. As it´s body collapsed, the magical aura died.
After the unicorn fell all the ponies that stood near it suddenly focused on 49.
Cover. He needed cover. There was none around him except tents, but they really only served as concealment and not cover. 49 reacted within the fraction of a second and dropped to the ground behind a tent while harshly pulling back the bolt handle. The impact with the ground knocked the air out of him, but he heard the recognisable sound of bullets flying over his head. He pushed the bolt handle back into firing position, rose again from the ground and pulled the trigger. His rifle cracked and a pony hit the ground. He had to change position again if he did not want to continue being targeted.
He dashed from tent to tent and crouched behind a barrel. 49 perfectly vanished inside the mass of his brothers which were slowly closing in on the ponies.
The sound of combat, of bullets whistling through the air and the multitude of screams formed a chaotic choir of anguish and death.
The ponies were slowly being surrounded and pushed back by the changelings. The survivors desperately tried to scramble for cover and shoot back. Those who did not have guns either cowered somewhere in fear for their life or tried to find a gun on the ground.
From all directions the ponies were under fire, their numbers quickly dwindling. The cracking of the rifles did not stop, and the number of changelings did not seem to be shrinking.
As his gun ran out of bullets, 49 did not reload. Instead, he and a few others whose magazines were also dry charged at a smaller group of ponies that fought separated from the rest. The ponies, still in utter disarray, tried to flee as soon as they noticed changelings running towards them, bayonets at the ready.
But there was no place for them to run. 49 reached one of the stragglers and struck the pony down in one blow with his rifle´s stock. With a battle cry he rammed his bayonet into the pony´s throat. The pony stared into his pupilless eyes. 49 stared back. It was a Pegasus with grey coat, silver mane and bright slightly purple eyes. 49 could not even determine its age or gender but it looked young.
The small group was quickly destroyed, and the main force of the ponies got rounded up in a corner of their fort, where changeling rifles decimated their ranks at a steadily quickening pace.
The remaining ponies tried to escape through the main gate, but that got blocked by the changelings. In desperation, some of the ponies tried to force their way through in melee. That failed miserably. They were too inexperienced to defeat the changelings in melee combat.
The slaughter dragged on for a little longer, until the ponies decided it was not worth it and surrendered. They threw their weapons away, mostly old single shot rifles but also some newer ones with internal magazines and raised their arms. Seeing the ponies just giving up like that caught the drones off guard.
So much so in fact, that they ceased fire and just stared at the ponies. In the general confusion, Herus commanded his drones to round the ponies up.
The changelings crowded the ponies up in the corner of the fort. They grabbed those who were too far away from the others by the elbow or wrist and pulled them harshly to where they wanted them to be. The wounded got picked up and thrown next to their comrades to the ground.
Silent but hectic chatter arose from the pony crowd which had pushed in as deep into the corner as they could, like a herd of sheep being cornered by wolfs. The loudest sound that came from the ponies was the whimper and weeping of the wounded.
They had to follow their orders. “No prisoners.” The words of 01 suddenly began to ring through 49´s mind as he pushed a new clip of bullets into his rifle. The other drones reloaded as well and made ready, without even having the order to do so.
The quite conversations of the ponies immediately fell silent. The sounds they heard were the sounds of the wounded.
“Wait wait wait wait wait! Please!” a pony stallion shouted and suddenly took a step forward, staring down the barrels of changeling rifles. He stretched out his arms and open hands in a gesture that begged for a halt. His face was dominated by panic and the squealing of his voice displayed nothing but pure dread. The bittersweet smell of despair radiated from the ponies and anxiety enveloped their bodies.
“We surrender. Please!” But his pleading fell on deaf ears.
As Herus walked past his drones they lowered their rifles, resting the stock against their hips, muzzle pointing slightly upwards. Herus stopped between the changelings and the ponies. He looked behind himself, seeing the ground littered with not only dead ponies but also with fallen changeling. Herus turned back and eyed the ponies with contempt.
“Anlegen!” Herus shouted. Perfectly in sync, the drones raised the stocks of their rifles back to their shoulders, muzzle pointing at the ponies. But Herus did not give the fire order just yet. He seemingly indulged in his victory and the ponies’ fear.
The stallion let his arms drop and his ears flattened against his head.
“Feuer!” This time he did not shout. Oberleutnant Herus sealed the fate of the ponies with single, calm, almost whispered word. It was so silent in the fort however, that every being present could hear it. Even the wounded had fallen silent in anticipation of what would happen. The next thing to be heard was rifle fire and the sound of bodies hitting the ground. Volley after volley tore into the mass of ponies, until all of them were dead. Within seconds, everything was over.
It felt kind of cowardly to shoot them, since they were unarmed and had given up. But they had killed so many of their brothers and orders were orders.
And what now? Was all SD8749 could think about as he reloaded his weapon again. The others looked equally aimless. He looked over to SD8750. His brother stared with a lifeless expression at the pile of lifeless bodies.
Just as he wanted to say something to his friend, 49 heard Herus shout, “come on, don't play statues! Our comrades need us in the town.”
He waved sabre in hand towards the gate that separated the outpost from the rest of the city where fighting was still audibly raging. “Three platoons, three streets. We try to reach the centre of the city. We have to help the other companies.”
Without further words, the company left the fort, broke up and spread across the wide streets. The city was arranged around a central square, all the main streets lead towards it.
From house to house, over intersections and crossroads, the changelings slowly and carefully advanced. Everything was silent. Only the sound of their hoofs on the cobbled street and the shots being fired somewhere else could be heard.
49 pressed his teeth together tight. He was moving in the middle of his group, his posture slightly ducked and rifle at the ready, prepared for all eventualities. Yet they moved on unopposed.
The buildings looked familiar. Small wooden houses with only one floor and an attic. He had seen houses like that in the hundreds in all the small villages scattered around their hive. 49 wondered if pony cities looked anything like changeling cities as well.
Despite all the homes, he did not see a single pony which unsettled him. He could hear fierce fighting, yet there were no ponies to be seen. Where were they? 49 took in deep breaths, trying to focus on even the smallest hints of pony scent. He smelled so many different things, but nothing decisive. Suddenly there was more. He sensed an emotion. Uncertainty. Lots of it.
At first, he did not notice it because all of it had very subtle deviations, but when he tried to focus on the emotion alone, he could clearly smell and sense it. It came from behind them.
Suddenly rifles cracked.
Bullets hit the ground all around him and ricochet of with deafening sounds. Small parts of the cobblestone were blown off with each hit. But not only the ground fell victim to the ambush.
Simultaneously to the bullets that missed, drones started dropping as well. With a loud squeal, the drone in front of 49 suddenly fell to the ground.
Fortunately, they were not paralyzed by the sudden attack. As soon as the first shots were fired, the changelings started running. Only a small group stayed behind, rushed towards cover and began to return fire. Only when there were no more bullets hitting around them, they slowed down again but they did not return to their careful pace. The drones kept a reasonable fast walking pace.
The ponies laid ambushes behind corners and on top buildings. Again and again, seemingly at random, they opened fire on the changelings. Each small group of ponies that attacked them forced an equally large group of changelings to leave the main force to deal with them. Whether it was part of their plan or improvisation, but the ponies effectively thinned out the changelings and forced them to split up in many smaller groups.
Eventually, SD8749 and SD8750, who had put themselves at the helm of the main force to not be separated as well, together with a bunch of others made it very close to the city centre. All around them they could hear fighting. Herus, who went with their platoon, was nowhere to be seen. He was probably caught up in a skirmish.
They rushed down one of the main streets. In front of them was the city townhall, and their comrades. They stopped as they saw changelings behind cover, barely 200 meters away from their target. They hid behind a fallen over carriage, inside alleys and house entrances. 49 wondered why they were doing that. Mere milliseconds later, he knew why.
Without thinking, 50 and 49 hastily joined their brothers behind the carriage as the first burst of bullets whistled past them. The others hurried for any kind of cover too, but not all of them got lucky. A machine gun again and somewhere directly in front of them. 49 gritted his teeth even tighter as soon as he heard the next burst of shots turning into a long spray of lead being sent their way. Out of the dozen that arrived here, only eight got into cover.
As soon as he was behind the carriage, he took deep breaths, his lungs were demanding oxygen. He pressed himself against the wood and could only watch his unlucky brothers slowly dying from their wounds. When there were no more changelings standing in the open, the fire subsided.
The wooden contraption 49 and 50 used as concealment was already partly shot to shreds. It had so many holes in it that it was barely a concealment anymore. Through these holes, 49 could look down the street. At the end of it was a large marketplace and the townhall. The large building towered over all the other houses, the equestrian flag proudly flying on its top.
“Where are they?” shouted 49 over the deafening noise of machine gun and rifle fire. It felt like the bullets came from all directions at once.
“The majority of them has barricaded inside the townhall.” Said a soldier next to them in reply. “And they got a mg in there.”
“Yes, we noticed,” said 50.
“Only muskets and spears, huh?” 49 remarked sarcastically.
“I don’t think this carriage will-” 50 began again but got interrupted by a sudden hailstorm of bullets, coming directly at them. The machine gun crew finally realized that the carriage was in fact only made out of wood.
The bullets ripped through the leftovers of the carriage effortless, tearing it apart within seconds. Without any consideration, the changeling left their ailing cover and ran towards the nearest building that looked like it could withstand the hailstorm of lead. Two of them did not even get away from the carriage. One more got shredded on the way to the building.
50 kicked in the locked door and they dashed in. As soon as they were inside, they dropped to the floor, ignoring everything around them. They heard the impacts of bullets on the sturdy walls made off tree trunks. The bullets got stuck in the thick wood, but still caused sizeable splinters to fly all over the place on the inside.
49 closed his eyes and pressed his palms onto his ears has hard as he could. He felt splinters of wood falling on his back and legs. One flew directly against his helmet. Luckily none hit his eyes, because he laid with his legs towards where the fire came from. The noise was disgusting.
After the machine gun redirected its fire away from them, SD8749 looked around to see where they had taken shelter. For a brief moment, he panicked. What if they entered a house occupied by enemy soldiers? Only then he noticed the four headed group of inhabitants staring at them, eyes and mouths open in disbelief and shock.
They were no soldiers. If it was not for their current situation, the group of ponies could have been a normal family on a normal day. But currently they cowered under their table to avoid the fragments. A large earth pony stallion, a slender unicorn mare and two smaller ponies. Remembering yesterday, 49 assumed that these must have been their children. If he was not mistaken, they were in a family home.
“78!” A scream startled him. 49 looked to his left, one of the drones was staring out the open door, at the bloody and holey body that laid there. So close to safety, a fourth one had been caught by the fire. “Diese Hurensöhne!” the drone cried. His ID read SD8677.
While one of the other drones tried to calm their distressed brother, 49 frantically looked around to find 50. His relief was unimaginable as he found his friend right next to him. 77 was still vehemently cursing as 49 stood back up and picked up his rifle.
The ponies came out from under the table. The mare, most likely the mother, stepped protecting in front of the stallion and the two fillies.
The situation was tense and did not ease as the other soldiers rose up from the floor again. An awkward silence hung in the room and the longer it lasted, the more uncomfortable it got. Trying to break the silence, 49 cleared his throat, trying to speak. This brought not the desired effect, however.
The whole situation was too much for the male pony. Shrieking like a little filly, the stallion suddenly ran towards the still open door, leaving the rest of his family to their fate. SD8750, who stood closest to the door, reacted quickly and extended an arm to grab a shoulder or arm of the pony to stop it. Unfortunately, he only got hold of the jacket the stallion wore. His sharp claws tore off an entire sleeve of his jacked but did not stop the escapee.
Sleeve in hand, 50 watched baffled as the stallion ran out on the street. There, the ponies in the townhall opened fire. They must have mistaken the pony for a changeling. The pony instantly fell victim to the bullets of its own kind.
When the body hit the ground next to 78, riddled by bullets just like him, the unicorn mare finally found her voice. Yet the only thing she managed to say was a long and loud, "NO!"
Faster than any of the changelings could react, the mare tried to run after the stallion.
Startled at the sudden, impulsive and very stupid decision but not paralyzed by it, 49 ran after the unicorn and managed to get a hold of one of her arms. The mare was stopped in her track immediately.
First surprised, then frightened by the strength of the changeling, the unicorn stopped, and her brilliant blue eyes met 49´s turquoise, pupilless orbs. The tears in her eyes mirrored the emotional turmoil that he sensed raging inside her mind.
“What do you want from us? Why are you here, you monsters?” the mare cried out loud, half screaming half sobbing.
For some reason 49 felt slightly offended by the mare’s outburst, but neither did he have time nor the desire to argue back. After he pushed the mare back into the middle of the room, she fell to her knees in front of her children, took them into a deep hug while audible sobbing. Her children looked more stunned and confused than anything.
SD8749 tried to comprehend the quick series of events that just happened. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not find any logical explanation for anything that happened after they entered this house. Neither did the changelings threaten these ponies, nor was there another visible cause for the stallion´s actions.
49 looked asking at the others, but his brothers only shrugged and shook their heads. Whatever , 49 thought. They had no time to waste.
“Do you have a basement?” 49 asked the ponies. His voice sounded cold and robotic. He did not ask this out of care, but out of orders.
The unicorn mare’s head snapped up from her children. Her face deep red and wet from tears, her mane messy. She was undoubtedly surprised to hear the voice of the changeling.
Her face expressed surprise, shock and confusion. The multilayered, somewhat snake-like and raspy voice of the drone paired with a strange accent must have been the cherry on top of her personal cake of fear and confusion.
The mare nodded hesitantly.
“Then go and hide there until the fight is over,” 49 commanded. Down there they should be safe, and he would have obeyed SD8701´s order to keep the civilians safe for later.
Not daring to disobey him, the Unicorn pulled her remaining family with her out of the main room.
“Now, back to our own problem,” said 49 and drew the attention of the others at him, “Where are the other units?”
“When the attack began, we advanced from three sides towards the city centre. But as you probably experienced as well, the city garrison started to force us into many small skirmishes,” said one of the soldiers, he was from the 6. company like the others. “Our forces got split up and scattered. Leutnant Agrilus tried his best to organise an attack on the townhall, but without connection to the other unit and that machine gun, we were not able to get any further.”
“And then 78, I and 77 over here got separated from the others,” he said and pulled 77, who was still clearly not over the death of his friend, close to him.
“At least not that easily,” added 50 while looking out of a window. Extremely cautious, of course.
“Where is Vicis?” asked 49.
“I think he was with the 8. company, but I don’t know for sure. The chain of command is problematic,” answered another soldier from the 6 company. 49 knew him, his ID was SD8611.
“We need a plan, and that quickly. Our brothers are dying out there,” pressured 50
“If we could somehow get around and behind that mg, we could take it out to make an attack possible,” SD8611 thought aloud, while still rubbing 77’s back. In moments like these, 49 was grateful for their ability to sense who the drone in front of them was.
“I got an idea!” exclaimed 49. “SD8750, I and whoever else wants to help can use the small alleys and connectors that are everywhere to sneak up to the townhall from behind. If our group is small enough, we could get there unnoticed. Then we go in and take out that Mg.”
“We could need a distraction to make sure they don’t notice us,” theorized 50.
“Whatever we are going to do, we need to do it quick. Our brothers are dying out there,” said SD8624 and pointed with his thumb behind him and towards the door.
Thinking about their chances, SD8611 scratched his chin. Then he said, “that could work. 24, can you organise us some noise?”
SD8624 nodded and stood there for a moment, thinking. “Be ready in ten minutes.” With that said he walked to the door. There, 24 took a deep breath before he ran as fast as he could. He dashed across the street into a small alley where more changelings were hiding. 49 watched as 24 spoke to them, before they disappeared around a corner. When he could not see them anymore, 49 faced the others.
“Will you help us?”
77, who still had the arm of SD8611 on his back, nodded. “Of course, they will pay for what they did to 78.”
“Yes,” agreed SD8611.
The five drones searched the house for a back door, and indeed they found one. It led into a small garden behind the house. Peeking carefully outside, 49 checked their surroundings. The houses were arranged in blocks and formed a wall around the gardens inside. This meant they were safe from the machine gun that overviewed the main street, but also that they were locked inside of the block.
49 stepped outside. Upon further investigations, he noticed a small alley leading out of the square of buildings. Separating the left and right side of the square was a narrow path, leading to the alley. The drones quickly walked to the fence that surrounded the garden they were in and climbed over it. From there they made their way through the alley and found themselves in one of the many small side streets of the town.
They hurried down the narrow streets in silence, weapon at the ready, trying to avoid any contact with ponies, civilians or soldiers. The drones stayed as close to the walls of the building as they could and to move as quietly as they could. Everything to not be spotted and attacked by a hiding group of ponies. That proved to be way easier than expected. The streets and houses they passed were empty as if the entire city had been abandoned. If it was not for the constant sound of rifle fire, one could think they were the only beings in the city. But the changelings would hardly complain about that right now. Windows and curtains were closed, as were the shops they came by. It looked like all the inhabitants of the city had left their homes.
The closer they came towards the center of the city; the less buildings were made out of wood and the more were built out of stone. 49 increased his pace, the others followed suit. He did not want to come across any of these pony groups. He prayed for them to be lucky.
He had expected that it would be difficult to navigate behind the town hall without a map or general idea where the streets were heading but he was proven wrong. The houses were not more than two stories high, and the town hall had a tall clock tower that could be seen from all over the town.
It did not take the changelings long to arrive at their destination.
49 abruptly halted the group by raising his fist. The town hall was right behind the next corner. Rubbing parts of his bayonet clean with his sleeve and using it as an improvised periscope, 49 looked around the corner. He spotted 3 pony soldiers guarding the rear entrance of the building.
Three. That was not much, but they could call for help.
“How many are there?” whispered 50 who stood directly behind 49.
“Three,” replied 49. “Let´s hope that they leave when 24's distraction begins. We wait until they leave before we enter.”
They did not have to wait much longer for their opportunity.
“Feurüberlegenheit, ich will Feuerüberlegenheit!” the cry, shouted in their native language echoed from afar. “Los, ran an den Feind, Jungs!”
Then, just seconds after, the rifle fire intensified. Hundreds of shots rang through the air, followed by the hissing sound of smoke spells. The three ponies heard the noise as well but did not immediately leave their position to support their comrades. They stood there, visibly uneasy and not sure what they should do. The ponies persisted like this, until a fourth pony shouted to them from inside. “Get your flanks in here, we need help.”
They immediately rushed inside. As soon as the ponies were out of earshot, the changelings followed them.
The space inside was limited, too tight to keep the bayonets fixed. The tiled floor made no sound as they moved down the corridors with careful steps. The noise of the machine gun hammered against their ears, the volume many times amplified by the narrowness of space inside the building. All that noise made their caution needless, and they quickly changed pace into a hurried jog.
They checked many offices, but they did not find the nest of the Mg crew. The offices were occupied by Equestrian soldiers, the windows serving as their embrasures and the tables and filing cabinets as barricades.
With every office that did not house the gun, their pace increased. They needed to hurry. Their comrades were in danger. Office after office, corridor after corridor. Nothing. They heard the gun hammer, but it was nowhere to be found.
Finally, almost at the end of the long corridor that stretched from one end of the building to the other, they found the source of the noise.
The room was smaller than the others they had seen, as was the single window it had. The air was foggy, and the smell of black powder was heavy. That heavy that 49 could taste it on his tongue. The window with view on the Main Street was missing all glass in its frame and was halfway covered with furniture, creating as much cover as possible. The machine gun was braced on the ledge of the window, its barrel barley fitting through the tight slit of window that was still open with just enough space to turn to effectively cover the entire street and a few of the nearby houses.
50 rushed past 49, who leaned against the wall next to the door to peek inside. 11, 77 and 79 were protecting their backs.
“Do you have a grenade left?” 49 asked under his breath, but 50 did not understand due to the noise. 49 repeated, this time just loud enough for 50 to understand.
“No. You?” replied 50.
“Would I ask you if I had one?” 49 hissed in return. Then he turned around to the others. “Grenades, anyling?”
They shook their heads. He stretched his neck out again to look through the door. They had only one option remaining.
A glance at his brother told 49 that they both had the same idea.
Rifle at the ready, 49 swallowed and whispered to 50, “on three, I take the ones on the left, you the ones on the right.”
50 nodded confirming.
“One. Two. Three!”
The two changelings did a turn towards the door while raising their rifles. They only revealed their arms, gun, and part of their head like that and began shooting. The ponies, still distracted by the other changelings, did not know what happened to them. Two ponies dropped each time they shot. Only one pony, that was in the left corner of the room, noticed his comrades’ demise.
This last pony, startled and confused, turned around and was horrified to see the changelings behind him and dead comrades next to him. No less horrified were the two changelings, as they aimed their rifles at the last pony, pulled the trigger and heard a metallic “click”, telling them that their rifles were empty. At the same moment the pony in front of them yanked his rifle around and pulled the trigger.
He too had to hear that dreaded metallic “click”.
A second passed. Both, pony and changelings just stared at each other, not even daring to blink.
Hundreds of thoughts about all possibilities raced through 49´s mind while he stared directly into the pony´s eyes. The pony stared back.
A sudden sound broke the tensed silence as the pony, facing the changelings’ weapons, threw its rifle away, curled up and covered its head with its arms. The soldier began sobbing.
“No, p- please! I- I have a wife and c- children. Please, take my love, take whatever you want, but please spare my life! My family needs me.” the pony pleaded.
50 looked over to 49 who still had not moved. The words of 01 once again echoed through his head, “no prisoners!”
“No prisoners,” 49 repeated their orders.
“W- What?” the pony asked and looked up from its pathetic stance.
“The order is: no prisoners,” 49 repeated louder and more aggressively while he furiously pushed a new clip of bullets into his gun.
As he raised his rifle again ready to pull the trigger, the pony gasped, and its eyes widened. They were displaying a tumult of different emotions: fear, despair, sadness, anger, confusion and hate.
The pony swallowed audibly and then said with visible effort and trembling voice a quiet, “W- why?”
This unexpected question stopped 49 dead in his tracks. He halted, rifle still aiming at the pony, but his trigger claw did not budge.
His mind tried to find an answer to the question, even if he would never tell the answer to the pony. This was when he remembered they still did not get told what exactly caused this war. Something about pony aggression yes, but what exactly? Suddenly he felt the cold again. It was cold, even inside this building. Probably because of all the open windows.
“Hey, 49! What are you waiting for?”
49 snapped out of his thoughts and looked at 50. His brother looked confused and slightly in panic. He noticed that he still aimed his rifle at the sobbing pony.
He silenced his thoughts and focused on the here and now. A swift pull on the trigger and a loud bang later, the tensed tense posture of the pony relaxed. Like a sack of potatoes, the pony collapsed in the corner of the room.
49 growled at the corpse. What did the reasons matter now? They could not simply back out now.
After that situation was resolved and the mg silenced, 50 reloaded his rifle and looked reproachfully at SD8749.
49 had nothing to say. Only in his mind did he admit that he lost focus there for a moment.
Suddenly SD8611, 77 and 79 entered the room as well. “They noticed the machine gun stopped, get ready,” 77 said while rushing inside the room.
As if to prove his point, a small, round metal thing rolled through the door. Its metallic sound dragging the gazes of the drones on it.
“Scheiße,” cursed 50 after identifying the metal thing as a pony grenade.
“Volle Deckung!” screamed 49 as he jumped to the grenade, grabbed it and threw it back out the door as quickly as he could.
“Take cover!” They heard somepony yell from down the hallway.
“Don’t try to-” another pony yelled but got interrupted by an explosion. The only thing reaching the drones in the office was the deafening sound and a cloud of smoke and dust.
Persisting in the room, the drones awaited what would happen next. With a quick gaze out of the window, 49 saw more changelings rapidly approaching the town hall. Ignoring the losses the remaining ponies caused, they pushed onwards.
With their hearing slowly recovering, they heard a pony shout, “Here they come!” before more shots drowned out everything that was said.
The drones looked out the room and saw how a pony stumbled out of an office and hit the wall with its back. A changeling followed the pony that had nowhere to escape and thrusted his bayonet upward. The blade entered the pony through the soft skin beneath its chin and left it again on the back side of its head, impaling the pony on the wooden wall.
More and more changelings now came out of the offices and continued to clean the building. 49 and the others just stood there and watched with relief, a feeling of accomplishment in their hearts.
In the middle of all the drones, 49 spotted one smaller figure. Vicis.
The Hauptman held his saber in his right hand and had to do very fast and long steps to keep up with the drones. His head snapped in their direction, as if he had smelled how they stared at him.
Very quick, almost running, he walked over to them. Since the situation seemed fairly secure, the drones assumed attention stance as they saw Vicis approaching.
“Have you taken out the gun?” the Hauptmann asked, while more drones rushed inside behind him.
“Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann,” said 49 proudly and clicked with his hooves, his chest swelling with pride.
“We talk about that later. Do you all belong to the same unit?”
“Nein, Herr Hauptmann.”
“Not important now. Follow SD8673 there and help his platoon secure the upper floors,” ordered Vicis.
“Jawohl Herr Hauptman,” the drones said and all of them clicked their hooves. Usually they would have simply saluted, but because they carried rifles, changeling drill demanded clicking the hooves instead of a salute to pay a higherup respect.
Making their way past their brothers which were clearing out every room on the first floor, they joined SD8673´s unit which was already climbing up the stairs.
The staircase was very wide, and the steps very flat and long. The walls were covered with paintings of ponies, landscape and buildings. Although all the drones were in really good physical condition, climbing stairs with steps this flat for so many floors exhausted them. On their way up, 49 looked at all the paintings that decorated the walls. Some showed pretty landscapes, but most of them were off ponies he would never know the name of. He only recognized one pony. Tall, alabaster fur, crone atop her head, long horn and rainbow-colored mane that defied physics with the way it waved without the influence of wind.
Celestia. The ruler of Equestria, alicorn of the sun, declared to be a god by the ponies and the greatest enemy of the changelings. 49 hated that visage. It looked so comforting, caring and sincere, the complete opposite of what the changelings saw in alicorns.
49 heard 77 growl something. He did not understand what his brother said, but his glare at the painting of Celestia led to the assumption that it were no compliments. Suddenly 77’s arm lashed out. It happened so fast that 49 only saw a blur.
The thin canvas still trembled in the aftermath of the attack, five long rifts going from the top right to the bottom left completely distorting the depicted face.
Noling commented on 77’s action.
Reaching the final floor, SD8673 gathered as many of his drones around him as would fit in the relatively tight space, the others waited on the stairs. They were a mixed bunch. Apparently 49 and 50 were not the first drones to be reassigned to this unit. 49 even saw a member of his own platoon.
“Listen up,” said SD8673 quietly, “the ponies are like cornered rats up here. Expect an ambush behind every corner, behind every door and behind every box. They are desperate. They will resort to any kind of tactic to survive. The only chance we have is to fight equally remorselessly. Swarm out in teams of at least two. Clear every room, every chamber and every dark corner. We have to make sure we don’t miss anything. Terminate every soldier and capture every pony that looks like it´s part of the administration of this place.”
The drones split up.
The attic of the town hall was not like a usual floor. It did not have the usual thick stone walls but wooden ones instead. These were thin walls that separated the large space into small rooms and chambers. SD8673´s warning caused 49 and 50 to tense up.
While they carefully walked down a narrow corridor, he looked back over his shoulder like paranoid again and again. 49 noticed multiple auras of emotions, it was a weird mixture of sensing and smelling. Knowing the enemy was there but not knowing where, stressed 49´s mind. He had been in a constant state of alarm for the entire day, he was becoming exhausted.
The two drones had chosen the right side of the attic. Together with many other groups, they searched through multiple possible hiding spots but found nothing.
Every step they took made the wooden floor creak. It was unnerving and it revealed their location, speed and direction they were heading. 49’s ears twitched at every creaking sound he heard, his brain desperately trying to figure out if it was a comrade or a pony.
Then they suddenly heard a sound behind them. It was a weird sound. Indescribable, supernatural. 49 and 50 immediately spun around and raised their rifles, just to see the empty hallway behind them. Then the sound was followed by a bright flash of light.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!” With a shocked cry and a loud thud, a drone broke through one of the thin walls. But what was thrusting him away did not stop there. The bright light just continued to push their brother around like he was nothing. Two more loud thuds and a sound of breaking glass later and they heard another horrified scream that quickly grew quieter and more distant.
49 and 50 stared with wide eyes down the corridor where two large holes gaped in the walls. 49 was not scared of magic, but he sure had caution for it. Even though what just happened looked more like an uncontrolled outburst than a calculated attack, the effect was undeniable.
A shot echoed through the attic, and one of the auras of emotions disappeared. It came from the direction the magic came from.
49 looked at 50 and tilted his head to tell him to get going. At the end of the corridor was only one more room they needed to check.
They slowly walked towards the door. Terror was behind the door, literally. Terror and uncertainty. 2 emotional presences. 49 tightened his grip around his rifle.
50 carefully entered the room, 49 directly behind him.
Inside the room, illuminated only by a small window, cowered a pony. But it was no soldier. The elderly looking unicorn mare wore a tailored suit and a blue silk tie. Her silver mane was kept in a bun. No, she was certainly not a soldier. Upon seeing the two large, black creatures, the pony tried to cower even deeper into the corner she was in, raising her hands in a defensive position in front of her face.
Yet she seemed alone, but 49 was certain that there were two in here.
50 took a step forward towards the pony.
So where was the other one?
50 suddenly got thrown to the ground, groaning as his body hit the wooden floor. From the left of the door, a pony jumped out of the shade to finish off 50. While 50 tried to get up, 49 took a strong step forward, shoving the pony away from his brother with his rifle.
The Equestrian soldier caught himself by taking a step back, preventing himself from losing balance. Then he attacked 49.
SD8749 took a step back to create some distance between him and the pony. The pony did not seem to care, it just kept going towards 49, without any form of defensive stance.
49 raised his over his shoulder, its butt facing the pony. Then, he took a quick step forward and rammed his rifle´s stock against the pony´s unprotected throat.
The pony gasped before it began to groan and cough for its life, its hands shooting up to its throat. 49 took another step forward, moving past and behind the pony. There, he lunged out before ramming the butt of his rifle into the pony’s back. The pony got on its knees, both hands clinging to its throat, suffocating on its crushed larynx.
49 grabbed 50´s arm to help his brother get up.
As another shot went off in the distance and someling shouted, “got another one!”, the pony in the corner winced in fear and its horrified gaze darted between the dying soldier on the floor and the drones.
49 took a step towards the pony. Only then did he realize the pony was a unicorn. His heart began to race. He aimed his rifle at the pony and began screaming, “put your hands up! C´mon, hands up I said! If I see that horn even spark once you are dead.”
The unicorn reacted by raising her hands but looked away from the drones, trying to avoid eye contact at any cost. 49 was ready to shoot her as soon as he would see her horn ignite. 50 grabbed one of her arms, trying to pull the pony up and the pony did not resist, but her legs trembled so intensely that 49 expected her would fall over every second.
“Please, please don’t hurt me,” the mare begged.
“What do we do with her?” asked 50 grim, still holding the arm of the pony. 49 replied with a shrug, not lowering his rifle. The unicorn tried to say something but got silenced by 50 tightening his grip.
“Let’s get her to SD8673,” proposed 50 and 49 nodded in agreement.
The two drones left the room. 50, still holding the arm of the unicorn firmly, walked in front and 49 walked behind the unicorn carefully observing its horn, rifle at the ready. They brought the pony back to the staircase, where SD8673 stood.
“Herr Unteroffizier,” 49 called out to get his attention, “we found this civilian. What should we do with her?”
SD8673 looked over to them and eyed the pony. “You look important. What is your function?”
“I- I´m the mayor, s- sir,” the mare stammered. Her legs had stopped trembling, but her upper body and hands were still shaking slightly.
SD8673 was silent for a moment before he spoke up again. “Bring her down to the Hauptmann. He shall decide her fate.”
“Jawohl!” said 49 and 50, and brought the pony downstairs.
The lower floors were now full of changelings. Dozens of drones buzzed through the narrow corridors, fulfilling whatever task they had. The sound of firefights outside had almost completely subsided. Only rarely the dull bang of a shot was heard.
The two drones and the pony pushed through the crowd, searching for Vicis. Multiple wrong rooms later, 50 finally knocked at the right door.
“This is a disaster and must never happen again! Under no circumstances,” they heard Vicis rant behind the door. “Two out of four. The army reform is long overdue.”
50 knocked again.
“Offen,” Vicis muttered.
50 opened the door. The room Vicis was in was one of the few rooms in the building that had not been destroyed in any way. The furniture and decorations were still intact and more or less tidy. Only a painting of Celestia on the wall looked like someling tried to cut it into small shreds with a bayonet. Vicis was not alone in the room. He sat behind a desk and began to search through mountains of paper while Herus and Agrilus were standing in front of the desk. The two officers looked very uneasy.
“I know it was not their fault. Still, we need to somehow bridge the time until we get replacements. Hopefully with the reform,” Vicis said, noticing the tension of his officers.
Upon noticing the three entering, Vicis looked up from the papers and the other two officers turned around. “Who is this?” asked Vicis as he spotted the pony.
49 and 50 stood at attention, rifle placed firmly on the ground next to their right hoof, before 49 took a step forward and said, “she says she is the mayor. SD8673 hat befohlen sie zu Herrn Hauptmann zu bringen.” 49 did not like to switch between languages, especially when talking to a higherup. But there were just things that could not be said in Equestrian.
“Is that true? Are you the administrator of this town?” Vicis asked the unicorn. His tone had changed from outrage to a purely professional one, not even showing a hint of his previous anger.
She nodded. The unicorn had, since they entered the room, not dared to move. She still stood at the exact same place, had her hands clenched to fists and pressed against her legs. Sweat was beginning to form on her forehead.
“You two can leave,” said Vicis to 49 and 50.
The two drones snapped to attention, their hoofs clicking as they entered attention position. Then they turned around on their left hoof and pulled their right hoof sharply after, causing yet another one of the characteristic clicks.
The mayor jumped both times she heard the click.
“But you, I have a few questions regarding this city’s accounting,” Vicis said to the pony, raising two hands full of papers.
The mayor gulped.
Before 49 closed the door behind him, the last thing he heard Vicis saying was, “please sit down, we have a lot to talk about. Herr Oberleutnant, Herr Leutnant, you can leave.”
