The War of Moon and Sun

January – February 1008

…The steady clatter of spoons and forks and the low rumble of voices filled the mess hall of the 137th Regiment, 13th Infantry Division of the Equermacht. The ponies took advantage of the break in the fighting to eat and discuss the current battle.

The camp was near the frontline, which had come quite close to Canterlot over the past few weeks. Four Stars Company, effectively Luna’s puppet, had regularly delivered supplies and equipment, allowing the NLR to advance, leaving behind spare fortifications lines as the Harmonic Army retreated.

In fact, they now had one goal – to hold the capital, which was clearly visible from the camp on the side of a huge mountain. And the Equermacht therefore needed to take it.

Greg melancholically stirred slimy porridge on an aluminum tray with a spoon. Across from him, Consited sat mechanically munching his food and staring absentmindedly into space somewhere in front of him. No doubt the unicorn was far away from here. Probably in Manehattan, with his mother… or wherever else. Greg would have given anything to be on a warm beach now. But there was one small problem: the war was raging in the South too. Even more brutal and merciless, as it was rumored.

Dropper was nowhere to be seen. Eating before the others, the pegasus was probably checking positions or tinkering with weapons. As a squad leader, he seemed to be back in his element. And he wasn’t about to do anyone any favors.

Out of the corner of his eye, Greg spotted a gray-coated thestral at the far side of the tent.

His presence was no surprise: the Lunar Chancellery had its eyes and ears everywhere. And the bright eyes and fluffy ears of the Batponies were just as good for that.

The spoon clinked on the edge of the tray.

Discord with that. There’s no way out of here. Nightmare Moon won’t forgive. And it would be a terrible dream to take Canterlot by storm. All I can do is try not to go mad. And see what comes of it.

Greg pushed the tray away and sighed heavily. That brought Consited out of his stupor, and Mellow was glad to see it.

“What’s the matter? The food’s just normal,” the unicorn said as he continued to eat.

“I was just thinking about something…” Suddenly, Greg had an idea. “Remember when we didn’t finish that game in the cell?”

“What do you mean? Uh, that… But why? What’s the point now? Do you still wanna beat me?”

“I want to make it clear. We’re under bombs here every single day. And that’s… I just don’t want to leave anything unfinished.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Consited said with an understanding sigh. “I also regretted that we couldn’t finish the game back then. Remind me of the last moves…?”

A few minutes later, they restored the position in their minds, and the unicorn thought about the next move.

But Greg decided to pick up the game for a reason. Every night, as he pondered the causes and drivers of the war, he thought back to that game and ran his mind through the options. And now, a month later, he finally had a solid plan to win.

After a few seemingly weak moves, he allowed Consited to make such a sweet check by queen from a4, and then, closing the position, went on the offensive himself. Queens and some remaining pieces were exchanged, and the white king was pushed into a corner of the imaginary board.

And as Greg took Consited’s rook with his one on c1, he already knew that the unicorn had no escape.

“Knight b1…” Consited exhaled nervously.

The remnants of the porridge had long since hardened into ugly light brown lumps on the trays. But now the unicorn had another reason to worry.

“Bishop c3,” Greg made a decisive move and was about to declare victory…

“…for fucking Luna’s sake!” came from one of the neighboring tables.

Greg and Consited looked over. The lilac earth pony had been chatting excitedly with his companions, but now that the mess hall had abruptly gone silent, he looked around in confusion, not sure why he was getting so much attention.

Then his eyes widened in horror.

The thestral in the gray coat was walking down the aisle between the tables toward him, pulling a pistol from a holster at his side.

The soldier jerked out of his seat to run – but he was sitting in the middle of the bench.

A shot rang out, and the private, blood spurting from his pierced chest, fell with a wheeze, his head on the tabletop. His comrades scrambled away.

The thestral holstered his weapon and walked over to the body. A low whistling voice broke the silence like thunder.

“For insulting Immortal Horsecoacher Luna, this soldier has been sentenced to death under Article 338.1 of the Republic’s Criminal Code. The sentence has been passed and carried out by Lieutenant Midnight Onyx, commissioner of the NLR Supreme Court. Remove the body and return to your positions.”

Everyone watched in silence as the thestral walked leisurely toward the exit. The clatter of his hooves was the only sound echoing through the room.

As the door closed behind the lieutenant, letting the wind and snow in, the chatter resumed, but much more quietly and cautiously than before.

The friends of the slain pony approached him hesitantly, and four of them picked him up under his legs and carried him on their backs out of the mess hall. One of the kitchen staff jumped to their table with a rag and began to scrub the blood off.

“Checkmate, Cons,” said Greg as he turned away from the horrible sight and looked at Consited. “This is a checkmate.”

For all of us, he added to himself. Only the others haven’t realized it yet.

He didn’t say it out loud. Didn’t want to follow that soldier.

Then they finished their lunch without saying a word.

Canterlot was just a stone’s throw away. The majestic city could be seen with the naked eye on the vast ledge of the mountain reaching into the sky.

But there was one little problem. The troops were blocking the way to the capital of what was now Western Equestria. And the Equermacht had to break through them.

The mountain stood on the other side of the river, and a railroad bridge on tall openwork supports approached the tunnel that led to Canterlot from the east. Used to approach. Now it had been blown up by the defenders, and the entrance to the tunnel was blocked with a strong grate. So the NLR army was coming from the south and north to surround the capital and enter from the west.

Yeah, except we’ve been standing still for a week, Greg thought, peering furtively out of the trench at the Equestrian positions. He lifted his head again and looked at the city. They’re firing cannons at us from the mountain, too.

As if in response to his thoughts, the nearby cannonade thundered again. The guns fired from both sides, but they rarely hit anything. As if neither army needed this battle, just doing what they were supposed to. The only exception was when Canterlot’s own artillery really got involved. Then the risk of getting hit was much higher.

Greg sat down, gripped his rifle more comfortably and looked at the others.

They didn’t seem bothered by the incessant rumbling. Some were cleaning their weapons or dozing with their helmets pulled down over their faces. Consited was playing tic-tac-toe on the snow with Dusty Night; in Greg’s opinion, the unicorn gave in from time to time. Probably to keep the thestral from shooting him as a national criminal.

Stratospheres lay belly-down on the berm, peering through his binoculars.

“They haven’t moved yet…” the pegasus muttered. “Okay, soon it will be time for another attack…”

From our side or theirs? Greg thought, but kept silent.

Time passed slowly. Late January was snowy and windy, but the trench felt a little bit warmer.

The thought of the cold made him shiver. Greg grimaced and squirmed, shoving his hooves into his overcoat pockets.

What are they all doing here? What are they fighting for? Which of them will survive, and which will die? Will Canterlot ever be taken? If not, then what’s all this for…?

Greg shook his head. There was no point in asking questions now. It was too late for that. All he could do was grit his teeth and do battle. Not for the Republic, but for himself.

And for his friends.

Greg turned back to Consited and Dropper. The ponies he’d been through so much with in the last month were more valuable to him than all the treasures in Canterlot’s cellars. And he couldn’t leave them here, amidst this absolute, merciless madness that the word “battle” covered.

If to survive, then to survive. If to die, then all together.

The tone of the gunfire changed subtly, and Mellow’s ears perked up. All the artillery on the Equestrian side had fallen silent, and only the Lunar Army’s cannons were still firing.

This is really no good… thought the gray pony and rose, holding his rifle with his hoof.

The others also raised their heads and looked around in disbelief that the enemy had decided to abandon their positions.

And then they heard a chirping sound – like a swarm of iron dragonflies approaching the battlefield.

Or birds, ready to sing their death song.

“Dammit!” Dropper swore and added a few more words, then rolled back down the embankment into the trench. “Air! Get down!”

The last word was drowned out by the sound of propellers and large-caliber machine gun fire.

The bullets plowed the snow next to Greg and tore through the bodies of two soldiers. They were dead before they knew it, and now puddles of blood were spreading underneath them.

Mellow couldn’t help but look up from under his helmet to see something circling above them.

The planes, those graceful white arrows, were turning over the Equermacht positions to make another run. Greg even thought he saw the sun on the side of one of them, like on Celestia’s flank.

Light fighters. They were being built on both sides of the front. Mellow had read at the training camp that the Equestrian Technology Council had abandoned the idea of the biplanes used for the first flights last year. And now this “new word in technology” was circling over their trenches at breakneck speed.

They’ll be dropping bombs from these things in a few months, Greg thought, amazed at how simple and prosaic it sounded. And so, the decision-makers would certainly think of it.

Once again, the planes fired rapidly at the Republic forces. This time, the bursts tore the snow a little farther away, and Greg no longer pressed his body into the frozen ground to watch the winged machines fly.

“And how about this…?” Dropper muttered.

Mellow turned around. Their squad leader was now standing on his hind legs, his rifle aimed at one of the planes.

He’s gonna get killed!

But the pegasus seemed to know what he was doing.

He fired. Immediately, one of the planes flipped sideways and began to fall, black smoke billowing from its fuselage. Greg looked closer and saw flames bursting out of it.

“Yes! Take that!”

Stratospheres bounced on the spot and got back on his four legs. There was a gleeful grin on his face, which immediately faded.

“Okay, wait…” the pegasus muttered and jumped back to the berm with his binoculars.

And swore a long, dirty curse in the next moment.

“All in position!”

Oh no. It’s starting… Greg thought and looked out of the trench, rifle in hooves.

What was expected happened. With air support, Harmonic Army soldiers rushed to attack.

Earth ponies marched with rifles and pistols clenched in their teeth. Unicorns covered them with magic, holding up crude plank shields and firing their floating guns.

Surprisingly, this did work. After firing several bullets, Greg didn’t hit them even once. The shields weren’t completely solid, of course, but the Equestrians would definitely reach the enemy lines.

Somewhere off to the side, the plane hit by Dropper crashed, exploding in a column of fire and dark smoke. The pilot, probably realizing he couldn’t escape, steered the plane straight for the Lunar Army positions.

Grenades flew towards the Equermacht. One was caught with telekinesis by the unicorn of Stratosphere’s squad and thrown back. The other exploded somewhere behind them, showering everyone with earth crumbs, water droplets from melted snow, and shards of metal.

“Kill the sunfuckers!” yelled the pegasus, replacing the dead private behind the machine gun.

Long bursts cut through the attacking ranks. At the distance they had come to, the shields were no longer effective, so they all dropped them and made a final dash for the enemy trenches.

Looking at them, Greg saw the same ponies as himself and all the others around him. The only difference was the color of their uniforms… and probably the purpose for which they were marching.

“Bayonets to battle!” Dropper commanded, stepping away from the machine gun and grabbing a rifle with a steel knife attached to the front.

Greg fired one last shot, missed, and collapsed to the bottom of the trench, clutching his weapon in his hooves. The heavy fire had thinned the Equestrian lines, but of the hundreds of troops thrown into the assault, a few dozen had reached the defenses.

And now Greg couldn’t just sit in the trench and shoot over their heads. No – this time he would watch Mrs. Death rule her bloody, hideous ball in person.

I really don’t want to die, at least not like this, Mellow thought, squeezing his eyes shut. But if I don’t fight, there’ll be no one left to tell the truth about this war when it’s over. And what about… He looked down at the bayonet on his rifle and shook his head. No. I’ll try some other way.

And he and the others turned to face the enemy, preparing to meet them in full force.

As the first soldier climbed over the barrier, Greg struck him in the face with the butt of his rifle. The head in the green helmet immediately disappeared behind an embankment.

But there were still many of the attackers.

With a war cry, ponies in pale green uniforms jumped into the trench and engaged in hoof-to-hoof combat. Dropper was surrounded by three at once, but he shot one, slashed another’s face with his bayonet, and hit the third in the stomach with his hind leg without turning.

“Grenade…!” shouted someone far to the right.

The next instant an explosion rang out and shrapnel rattled Greg’s helmet.

It seemed that not all the Equestrians had gone down into the trench. Someone had stayed above and was now throwing grenades where his comrades were not.

He’ll be shot down soon anyway, Greg thought. By riflemen or artillery, it doesn’t matter. This was pure suicide.

Staying here is suicide, the suddenly awake inner voice argued.

Oh, who cares, Mellow shrugged it off and prepared for another fight.

Two more ponies jumped from the embankment and stood either side of him, blocking any escape. One of them had a pistol between his teeth, and Greg didn’t hesitate to headbutt him with his helmet, ramming the weapon into his mouth.

A sharp pain pierced his rump, and the gray pony screamed, turning his head to face his other opponent, a white unicorn with rectangular glasses.

Apparently, when Mellow had attacked his companion, he’d automatically leaned forward and bayoneted the stallion in the ass. And now it was as if he didn’t know what to do.

What a moron. But damn, how it hurts…

Growling, Greg lunged forward and jumped off the bayonet. The cold air burned the wound like boiling water, and a hiss escaped his lips.

The artery’s intact, Greg realized with relief as he felt the blood soaking his pant leg. So it’s not over for me yet.

“Get down!” he heard Dropper’s scream and, unable to resist, fell onto his belly, his hooves spread wide.

A shot rang out. Greg turned to see that the unicorn no longer had his glasses or even his face. He dropped his rifle and, horrified, pressed his hooves against the bloody mess where his nose used to be.

Another shot hit him in the chest and the soldier fell onto his back. This war was clearly over for him.

“Look out!” Stratosphere yelled, quickly reloading his rifle.

The Equestrian was still groaning as he pulled the gun from his mouth, so Dropper crushed his head with a heavy hoof blow and glared at Greg disapprovingly.

“If you go on like this, you’ll fucking die!” the pegasus said, glanced outside and jumped back to the machine gun, firing several bursts into the blizzard.

Mellow could feel it getting colder, and the wind was throwing large hooffuls of snow into the trench. It was as if nature itself was telling them to stop and go back to their positions. Continue tomorrow, the wind said, but you better go home. It’s warm there, you can always rest and have lunch, and besides – in the daily lottery of life, the chance of winning is much more attractive.

But no one was listening to this plea.

“No, no, please… wait, don’t…!” came Consited’s voice.

Greg turned around. Jacanapes sat huddled against the plank wall of the trench, staring in horror at the Equestrian standing before him, a sergeant or something like that, judging by his stripes. The rifle in the yellow unicorn’s trembling hooves stuck out like a last, desperate chance of survival.

The enemy (Greg could only see him from behind), standing on his hind legs, silently aimed the weapon at Consited’s face.

Run away! Don’t stay there, you idiot! the gray pony wanted to shout… but the words stuck in his throat.

An endless moment passed… and then the dark silhouette of Dusty Night emerged from the swirling snow.

The thestral brandished the knife clenched in his teeth, and blood spurted from the soldier’s torn throat. The camouflaged pony collapsed on the snow in front of the frozen Consited. And he was still twitching.

Dropper ran up and shot the Equestrian in the head. The spasms stopped immediately.

“Get up, rookie!” the pegasus encouraged the still-sitting unicorn. “I can’t save ya forever… Uh, did you shit your pants there?”

Stratospheres waved his hoof in front of Consited’s muzzle. The unicorn blinked, looked up, and finally stood.

Mellow, meanwhile, pulled an individual packet out of his pouch and tried to apply a bandage to the wound. In the end, he managed to lay the bandage on the ground and sit on it with his bleeding ass. The sticky edges adhered to the skin and the pain immediately eased.

The roar of approaching planes was heard again. Greg lifted his head, expecting to see another approach by the “solar” squadron, but instead dark dots began to appear in the gray cloudy sky. And they were coming from behind the Equermacht positions.

That’s ours, Greg realized – and was horrified to think of the Lunar Army as his side in the conflict for the first time.

The gray pony lowered his eyes to his blood-covered hooves.

But… that’s only my blood…

He remembered his first fight – and sighed heavily, gritting his teeth.

No. It’s not. Not anymore.

Dropper, on the other hoof, almost jumped for joy at the sight of the planes.

“That’s it, yes! The help! Fly faster and kill those bastards!”

He looked back out of the trench with the binoculars and sat down by the machine gun.

“No, motherfuckers! You won’t get past me that easy…!”

The shots rattled again. Like a woodpecker tapping a rhythm on a particularly sturdy tree.

Greg looked up at the planes approaching their positions. He even thought he saw a white curved crescent on their purple or blue sides.

Moon and Sun, he thought distantly. This is the war of the Moon and the Sun indeed.

What was it called in ancient times when the luminaries converged in the sky…? An eclipse? Well, no matter. The sun will burn bodies and the moon will freeze souls. And we cannot escape either.

The Pegasenwaffe planes flew directly over their trenches and attacked Celestia’s graceful white machines. The rumble of gunfire filled not only the ground, but the sky as well.

Greg glanced toward the mountain and saw the white stone towers of Canterlot surrounded by a pink translucent dome.

A shield, the stallion realized. They’ve raised the shield. That means Celestia herself is watching the battle now.

Meanwhile, the main attack wave had subsided. After wasting dozens of lives, the Harmonic Army no longer charged headlong into the enemy lines. Huddled behind the shields they had abandoned earlier, and running from place to place now and then, they poured lead into the trenches of the Equermacht.

And were poured back. A split second’s hesitation was enough to catch an occasional bullet.

From time to time, grenades flew from either side. But the strength of the unicorns was enough to throw them off in time – even Consited was able to do that. So most of the small fragmentation shells exploded in the nopony’s land – a flat space a few dozen meters wide between the lines of fighting soldiers.

Greg fired round after round, unconcerned with accuracy, just trying to do what everyone else was doing. Dusty Night loomed somewhere behind them. No doubt watching Nightmare Moon’s fighters slaughter the enemies of the Lunar Princess.

“Look!” someone shouted.

Greg lifted his head and froze, startled by what he saw.

As did everypony around. It was as if the battle had stopped while they all stood with their weapons in their hooves, staring up at the sky.

A Lunar Army plane was flying directly at the magic shield.

Mellow pictured the batpony pilot’s face contorted with rage and a grin (for some reason, he thought it should be a batpony) and shuddered as he realized what that madman was about to do.

He was going to crash through the castle.

The gray pony’s heart tightened.

If the plan succeeded and Celestia died…

His breath caught in his throat at the horrible thought.

…then nothing could ever stop Princess Luna’s advance.

But as Greg glanced to the side, he saw another plane, this time a white one. It was coming towards the blue one, firing all its machine guns.

I wonder if it’ll make it.

The attention of everyone on the battlefield was focused on the two winged machines.

Everyone knew that the Equestria’s fate would be decided in these seconds.

March Gustysnows was born in Whinnyapolis, a small northern town that was overrun by the Night Cultists in the first hours after Nightmare Moon became known to return.

The local military was engaged in fierce battles with the rebel forces. At the same time, a wave of refugees was fleeing the town for more peaceful regions.

March fled as well. But as she approached Canterlot on a crowded train with hundreds of other ponies, she was overcome with shame for leaving her hometown behind. And so she decided to serve Equestria in the time of need, to somehow atone for her momentary mistake.

March was a communist, and her morals from an early age told her she had to do this: after all, Whinnyapolis was still heavily influenced by Stalliongrad, which was only a few provinces to the northwest. The cream-colored earth pony was always thinking about what her compatriots were going through, and fighting on Celestia’s side had become her primary goal and personal duty.

As soon as she arrived in Canterlot, she enlisted in the Equestrian Air Force, which was in desperate need of pilots to fly the new aircraft being feverishly assembled in the military factories.

After a month of training, her excellent performance earned her a spot in the elite Celestial Arrows squadron.

March fell in love with flying from the first minute. At the controls, she could literally feel the whole plane – and her hooves seemed to know where to steer it.

Throughout January, she’d been to various parts of the front: Arrows had been sent to the north, then to Ponyville to patrol the Everfree Forest, then somewhere else to stop the Equermacht advance before the enemy could get their air force in place. But now, for the first time, March was fighting for Canterlot, literally on the front lines.

As the shielding sphere enveloped the city, March exhaled with some relief. The towers of the capital were safe from the machine-gun fire of the enemy fighters.

And the mare joined the fray with redoubled vigor. Spinning unimaginable loops to dodge the fire, she shot down one enemy plane after another.

But she also watched as her comrades were blown up in mid-air. The Lunar Army’s pilots were proving to be quite good, too – sparing no effort to fight their way through the swarm of Canterlot’s defenders.

And when March saw one of the fighters, flanked by two others, on its way to the royal castle, she didn’t hesitate for a second to point her machine in their direction.

The cover planes rushed at her. But March did a barrel up, dodging the bullets (her stomach jumped to her throat at that point), and hit them with precise shots, forcing them to focus on their own survival.

And then she pressed the throttle as hard as possible and raced towards the “suicide bomber.”

Three seconds later, he would crash into the shield. She would be there about the same time.

The machine guns spun around and went dead, stuck. March was no longer able to fire.

Her mind was strangely empty – her thoughts had no time to form in the heat of battle. But deep inside, the cream-colored pony knew what she had to do.

And when she was only a short distance away from the shield, she caught a glimpse of Princess Celestia.

The alicorn was standing on the observation deck of the castle, her mouth agape, staring dazedly at the plane that was inevitably speeding toward her. The Princess’ horn was glowing, supporting her shield – but what would happen if something hit it?

Would Canterlot be able to stand at all?

March didn’t hesitate any longer. She diverted her path as far as she could and crashed into the side of the enemy plane at full throttle.

But before the world trembled and disappeared in flames, the pony named March Gustysnows calmly and gently smiled.

…The white plane slammed into the blue one, and the edge of the protective sphere exploded in fire.

The burning machines scraped through the magical dome, dampening their inertia. The pale pink field shimmered – apparently the impact was strong anyway.

Then there was another explosion, and flaming debris rained down from the mountain.

The magical sphere around Canterlot flickered a few times before it wrapped around the capital again.

The shield withstood.

Equestria kept fighting.

Greg took a breath, coming to himself after the unbelievable sight.

In fact, he was glad that the crazy plan of a pilot of the Lunar Army had failed. If Celestia had died…

The gray pony shook his head, unwilling to even think about such a thing.

…the world would never be the same. And so there’s still some hope that things would be fixed in the future.

He wanted to salute the pilot who’d made the ultimate sacrifice, but he was sure he’d catch Dusty Night’s bullet. He couldn’t show his true feelings to anyone. It was the only way to survive… and stay sane.

For a few brief seconds, the battlefield was very, very quiet. Only the engines hummed in the air, and debris crashed to the ground.

But then the ponies seemed to remember that they were still fighting.

And the battle resumed.

The scope of Greg’s rifle slid back, its crosshairs gliding over the thinning ranks of the Equestrians. They were firing less, as if retreating to their positions.

The guns rumbled habitually, firing shell after shell.

One by one, downed planes of both armies fell from the sky.

“Yes, take that! Here you fucking go…!” Dropper said cheerfully, firing from his machine gun.

Greg was firing too. Everypony was firing. Even Consited was doing the same thing.

It was pure, absolute madness.

And then…

The blizzard intensified, reducing visibility. Snow piled up in his face and over his collar as soon as he poked his head out of the trench. The wind howled harder and harder, as if ordering everything to end.

And it was over.

The planes of both squadrons exchanged their last attacks and flew back to the airfields. The guns fell silent, having used up their supply of shells. The rifles and machine guns went quiet as well – the soldiers were saving ammunition for the next battle.

Only snow remained. And silence. And corpses.

“Wow, that was quite a mess!” Dropper said, jumping down to the bottom of the trench. “We’ll watch them for a while to make sure they don’t move, then we’ll get some food and go to bed. And this meat needs to be taken out.” He jabbed his hoof at a dead soldier in the Equestrian uniform.

Greg managed to remain outwardly nonchalant.

They’re ponies like us, he reminded himself. Just from the other side of the front. Though… no. Not like us. We’re the ones on the offensive, trying to force our Lunar Revolution on the whole country. They’re just defending what’s rightfully theirs.

Wait… did I say “we” again? What’s wrong with me? This is a troubling sign. I’m gonna have to do something about this.

“At least we survived,” muttered Greg as he sat down on the frozen, snow-covered ground near the trench wall. “You okay, Cons? Co-ons…?”

But Consited didn’t answer. He sat hunched over, staring blankly before himself. His shoulders were trembling slightly.

“Co-ons…”

Greg touched him gently with his hoof.

The unicorn jerked immediately, turning his head around as if trying to figure out where he was, and then his gaze settled on Mellow.

“Ahh… I’m fine,” he breathed out. “Don’t worry about me…”

“I can tell you’re not yourself,” Greg said quietly, leaning closer. “Maybe you should… you know… ask for a transfer? Although…” the gray pony shook his head. “From here, the transfer is only to the coffin, that’s right…”

“At midnight by the latrine,” Consited said in a clear whisper. “We’ll talk then. But for now,” he closed his eyes, “leave me alone.”

Greg nodded silently and rose from his seat. Then he went to join the others – to remove the bodies.

Nightmare Moon was the only one who wanted this war, he thought as he helped pull the stiffened bodies in their pale green jackets away. She started it – and they’re… eager to finish it. But as long as she stays in her tower in Manehattan, there will be no peace. And no one has the power to banish her back to the moon for a thousand years.

But that’s for now. One day… the stallion lifted his head and looked up into a stormy sky as gray as he was, it will all change. It has to change. It just can’t be otherwise.

And then… everything will be fine again.

Night had fallen over the front line, illuminating the trenches with the bright light of the moon. Looking up, it seemed as if Nightmare Moon herself was watching from above, guarding her army’s rest.

The ponies froze at the bottom of the trenches, huddling together to keep warm. The blizzard had ended late that afternoon, replaced by the frost that marked the coming of February.

The war had been going on for nearly three months.

Sentries walked around the Equermacht camp; to stay in one place in this cold would be like death. Of course, it was unlikely that a spy would try to sneak in here now, when it was so cold and the white light was shining overhead, but still… who knows what those Equestrians might be up to?

“…Stop!” came a sudden, soft call. “Weather vane?”

Greg poked his nose out from under his collar.

“Cup,” he answered in response to the password. “Let me through.”

“Why y’all go out in this cold?” asked the sentry, wrapping himself in a scarf. As usual – gray and with an inventory number on the edge. “Got a smoke?”

“I don’t smoke. And you shouldn’t either,” Greg said and walked past.

“F-fuck you…” the sentry hissed back at him.

Mellow shook his head and buried his nose deeper into the collar of his overcoat.

Consited was waiting for him behind the cesspool, as promised. The gray pony was glad of the cold for once. Though he wasn’t too happy about the choice of place to talk.

On the other hand, it would have been hard to think of an equally inconspicuous place.

The unicorn shrank on the snow, his legs tucked under him. He looked so pathetic right now that Greg’s heart tightened.

“It’s me, Cons,” he said quietly, coming closer. “Get up.”

The tangle unraveled, revealing a yellow, gaunt face, now almost as pale as snow, and a horn protruding from a hole in the helmet.

“Greg…” he breathed out, and the name vanished into the air with a white vapor. “Frankly, I didn’t believe you’d come. I thought you didn’t care about my problems.”

“We have to keep together,” Greg replied. “It’s the only way we can survive here, no one else. And you can trust me. ‘Cause I’m not Dusty Night. I won’t reach for a gun right away.”

“I don’t know… I don’t trust anyone or anything here any longer.” The unicorn shook his head, then looked into the gray stallion’s eyes. “Greg… I don’t want to live anymore. I mean… I do, but… not like… like us now. All of us. It’s just… wrong.”

“I know it’s wrong,” Mellow nodded. “But you have to understand, there’s a very big difference between…”

“I understand. And I hope you do as well. I don’t. Want to live. Like this. Get it?”

Consited twitched his neck with emotion, and Greg suddenly thought that if tears came to the unicorn’s eyes, his eyelids would be completely frozen with ice by morning.

“All is not lost,” he answered. “Canterlot is still standing, and we’re still alive. You should be glad to wake up in the morning… or to the sound of shelling. You need to have a purpose to keep you going and not give up. It would be easier that way. And your head wouldn’t hurt for nothing.”

“And do you have such a purpose?”

“Yes,” Greg nodded. “To find out why this war started… and why it’s still going on. Ponies just can’t be that evil. It’s… not in our nature.”

“Nature?” Consited grinned wryly. “What the hay do you know about nature, Greg Mellow?”

And suddenly he shouted in a hoarse, cracking voice.

“And that’s just it! I have no more purpose! I have nothing to live for! You understand that?! Nothing…!”

He shook and sank heavily into the snow. His eyes must really be frozen shut, Mellow thought as he came over and sat down beside the unicorn.

“What happened?” He asked quietly. “Can I help?”

The yellow hoof held out a crumpled envelope, wet with snow.

“It came in the last mail…” A muffled sob was heard. “Mother is dead. Those Gestapony scum broke into her house and just threw her out on the street…! Accused her… of being untrustworthy… She wasn’t alive for the interrogation. I mean, it’s cold in Manehattan now too, you know…”

Greg was silent, not knowing what to say. His parents were long dead, so he knew how Consited felt at that moment. But Mellow couldn't find the words to comfort him.

“I have no one left! You got that?! No one…! No family, no friends, no job…!”

“I am your friend,” Greg said. “And Dropper is also… well, as much as he can be a friend now.”

“That’s the thing…! How can you be friends with someone who enjoys killing? And you’re good at it, too. I’ve seen you shooting…”

“I aim to miss. I just want to survive. Without drawing attention to myself.”

“Me too, but I’m not so sure anymore. Greg,” green eyes full of despair stared at the gray pony, “I’m scared. I’ll either run away or blow my head off with a bullet. And if I run…” the unicorn sighed, “I’ll probably get drunk… so drunk that I’ll choke on my own vomit and die. I don’t see any other future for me at all.”

“You won’t die if you don’t give up. I won’t die. We’ll survive this hell together… if we don’t stop believing.”

“You might. But my faith is running out already.”

Consited stood up and staggered toward the dugout where they were hiding.

Greg looked after him.

War breaks you. But it can also harden. Where will I end up? I don’t know. The others? Same shit.

But one thing’s for sure: we’ll never be the same. Never.

Another day had passed.

Neither side had attacked again, both saving their strength for the ultimate battle. Canterlot still stood as an impregnable fortress on the mountain’s slope, and the Equermacht soldiers looked back at the city, realizing that take it would be a serious challenge.

Only the artillery was firing with enviable regularity. Half a day in the morning, a short break to deliver new ammunition, then half a day in the evening and a few volleys at night. To keep them at bay, so to speak.

But something else happened during the night. Around two o’clock, the sound of engines was heard, and then explosions echoed from Canterlot and the enemy trenches. The soldiers were not told what had happened, but the rumors were already clear: the Lunar Army had carried out its first successful bombardment. And that meant the capital of Equestria was no longer safe, not even for a second.

The hatred that had erupted during the confrontation was gone for the time being, replaced by the usual deep resentment and misunderstanding. Nightmare Moon’s soldiers understood why Celestia’s troops hadn’t surrendered yet, but they thought it was a completely idiotic decision.

Almost everyone… except Greg Mellow. And maybe a few others who didn’t really believe the propaganda.

…On the morning of February 2nd, Dropper’s squad was moving routinely into position. Over the past few days, the command had brought in all the remaining reserves, and the camp was now quite crowded. Ponies were going everywhere: some to the mess hall, some to the bathroom, some to shooting practice (they had obviously just been pulled out of training).

All in all, the usual hustle and bustle…

While waiting for the attack.

Regardless of whether defending or fighting back.

“…Listen to the situation,” Dropper spoke curtly, trying not to catch a cold in his throat. “We weren’t given any details at the briefing, but I have an idea where this is going. I feel like we’ll be back to offense very soon. And there’ll be everything: tanks, and ‘birds’, and guns… And us, of course. The main force of the Equermacht,” he emphasized each of these words. “In short, when everything starts, the most important thing is not to miss the moment and to join the general battle. Be ready, then. And wait for the command… Command, I said!” The pegasus turned to Dusty Night, who had snorted disdainfully. “Don’t do anything on your own! I’m watching you too, okay?”

The thestral staggered and walked on like everyone else – with no visible emotion at all.

A batpony platoon marched past, led by a fat commissar with earth-colored skin, a dagger at his side, and stormhoofer insignia on the collar of his black Lunar Division coat.

Greg overheard a fragment of his fiery speech.

“…You now belong to a greater good, and you answer to a higher call! You are part of the best and greatest, and there is no room for failure! You’ll leave behind all weakness! You are no longer mortals! You are the indestructible Soldiers of the Night…!”[1]

“YES!!!” twenty throats replied in unison.

“Praise the Moon…!”

The gray pony shivered. Some of the fighters were just such fanatics – thanks to the narrative the leaders had deliberately planted in their heads.

So it’s cool to be an instrument of a higher purpose, even if it means killing those who see the world differently! It’s cool to know that whatever you do, nothing will happen to you if your enemies suffer! It’s awesome to think you’re better than someone else just because you chose what you thought was the right side when the time came!

And the problem was that many fell for it. And began to serve with very specific – and dangerous goals.

But I won’t give in. No matter how hard it is, I won’t submit. But I have no right to consider myself better than others just because I can think soberly. Unfortunately, in these times, this isn’t an indicator.

…At the positions everything was the same. Machine guns boomed and rifles rattled as usual, grenades burst from time to time, and the occasional crashed planes fell. It was impossible to distinguish this day from many others when the same heavy battle was going on here.

Groundhog Day, Greg thought, doing what he’d been doing for the last few weeks: shooting. I remember there was a radio show where the pony got stuck in the same day and everything kept repeating over and over again… So it is here. It’s all one big Groundhog Day, and even death can’t seem to get anyone out of here. It seems that if you die, you’ll still be here – but forever. So…

A bullet brushed his helmet, and Mellow ducked his head, hiding behind the barrier so he could pop out again and fire randomly, forcing the gunner back to the ground.

Dropper’s machine gun was still firing.

“Yeah… take that, sunfuckers… die for your whore Celestia…” the beige pegasus said under his breath.

Greg marveled at how he managed to stay upbeat and determined to win. His hatred for the enemy (whether sincere or implied) must have burnt away all the fear in Stratospheres, leaving room for the determination to kill everyone on the other side of the front.

Consited was pathetic to look at. The unicorn trembled – and blinked every time he lifted his rifle muzzle out of the trench and sent another bullet into the unknown. Dusty Night was already starting to squint at him, and Greg decided that if it came to a conflict, he would side with the poor fellow.

Suddenly there was a noise behind him that sounded like… the roar of engines, and it was getting closer. As if something huge and powerful was coming from behind to take the lead in the attack.

“Aha!” Dropper rubbed his hooves happily, leaving the machine gun for a moment. “Just what I was talkin’ about! Here come the tanks! Now those bastards will get theirs for sure…!”

Tanks?!

Greg had read in the training camp that the Lunar Republic was already developing huge, tracked war machines, but he never thought he’d see them so soon. Especially in action.

“Get down!” Dropper ordered, and the troops jumped down to the bottom of the trench.

Mellow watched, mouth agape, as a pair of huge tracks roared over their heads and on toward the Harmonic Army positions.

The gray pony jumped to the berm first, not waiting for Stratospheres’ call, and leaned out to watch the new military vehicles marching toward the enemy.

There may not have been many tanks – ten or twelve, as far as he could see from this part of the front. But they were impressive. As tall as three ponies, covered in armor plates, and with a long gun barrel on top of a revolving turret with a lunar emblem, these giants pounced on the Equestrians like…

Greg couldn’t even find a comparison. There was nothing like this in ponykind history as he knew it. And a new chapter of that history was being written right now.

The cannon of a tank roared, and a cloud of fire exploded on the enemy side. Others began firing, and the Equestrian trenches were covered in a veil of smoke.

“Right, right…” Dropper muttered. “We stay here for now. Let ‘em clear the way a bit and then we’ll attack…”

“Attack?” Consited asked fearfully. “We?”

“Of course, rookie! Who else?”

The pegasus turned to the unicorn with a fatherly smile, but frowned when he saw him trembling.

There was no telling what would have happened between them if Greg hadn’t shouted, “Look!” and pointed with his hoof at the tank closest to them.

It looked like it had hit something – and now it was standing there, twisted, idling on its tracks.

“Fuck…” Dropper spat. “Those bastards are fortified! Any shit that hits it turns into a pile of scrap metal! Fuckin’ assholes! I’m gonna give ‘em hell…!”

The pegasus leaned back on the machine gun and opened fire.

Greg took a closer look. Indeed, in front of the Equestrians’ positions were roadblocks of crossed sticks covered in snow. If the tanks ran into them, they would simply hang in the air and become helpless targets.

A pony silhouette suddenly appeared out of the smoke and threw something at the stopped tank.

The vehicle was engulfed in flames and exploded a few seconds later.

“Damn!” Stratospheres kicked the embankment with his hoof. “Those are the same Daybreaker cocktails we used to throw at that scum in Manehattan!”

Daybreaker cocktail? I’ll have to remember that, Greg snorted to himself. Not to go crazy, he tried to feel as little emotion as possible – and just observe everything dispassionately.

The tank attack stalled. Armored vehicles were stuck in the barricades of these cross-shaped structures, and those that broke through were disabled by artillery or flaming bottles.

The smoke above the trenches began to clear, but dozens of destroyed tanks smoldered thickly in the line of fire.

Suddenly, the battlefield became noticeably quieter. Greg looked up at the sky – the air battle was over, but who had won was uncertain. Even the cannons – those sources of endless bass accompaniment – seemed to have subsided.

In this silence, a voice sounded distinctly, measuredly singing the words of the song.

As Equermacht overrun,
Everypony hold a gun.
Let us fight, we’re stopping the Night, Soldiers of Light![2]

It was the stallion, and his voice could be heard from Equestrian positions, apparently amplified by unicorn magic.

We are ready for typhoon,
Face assault of Nightmare Moon.
Soldiers of Light, we’re stopping the Night during this fight!

One by one, under the cover of the burning tanks, Greg saw Celestia’s soldiers emerge from the trenches and gather into battle formation, seemingly inspired by the sudden song to attack.

The cannons rumbled and shots rang out again, but the singer’s voice was not to be overshadowed.

Hear your commanders’
And Princess’ orders,
Defend our homeland.
Canterlot won’t fall!

Stand and follow command, our hearts for Equestria!
Heed Celestia’s call and brace for the fight!
Ponies, let’s never give in, there is no surrender!
The sunshine and rainbows will make our new day bright!

Greg finally saw who was singing. It was a gray-blue earth pony with a short black mane and dark glasses, wearing a bulletproof vest and camouflage pants. He stood on a dais made up of several roadblocks and turned his head to survey the battlefield. He was flanked by two unicorns, obviously assigned to cover him with magical shields.

And indeed, a machine-gun burst fired in that direction simply scattered into the air against an invisible barrier.

A cursing murmur came from the side, and Greg realized it was Dropper who tested the strength of the singer’s defenses.

And ponies were coming. More and more of them rose, and soon there was a wall of soldiers in pale green uniforms closing in on the Equermacht’s position. And Mellow would have bet a tooth that their eyes burned with confidence in themselves and their victory.

“Who’s that?” he asked, pointing to the stallion in the body armor.

“Joakim Trotten,” Stratosphere hissed and then shouted at the private who had brought a new machine-gun belt, “Hurry up! Why are you fumblin’ around like a lazy ass…! So…” he returned to the subject. “He’s kinda singer. I used to listen to his band once in a while before… But shit – after all he switched to these motherfuckers! And fuckin’ hay, I can’t even shoot him! Oh, damn, I hate him soooo much…”

Meanwhile, the singer started another verse.

So the nightmare wheel has spun,
This is war of Moon and Sun,
And every day their onslaught only grows…

A sob sounded nearby, and Greg involuntarily turned his head toward Consited.

The gray pony’s heart clenched in fear at what he saw.

The unicorn froze, staring at Celestia’s advancing troops. He even seemed to drop his rifle.

“No…” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. Then he gritted his teeth and shook his head. “I… I can’t… No… I’d better –”

“What the hay are you babblin’ about there?” Stratosphere turned to him.

Greg suddenly noticed Dusty Night tense up nearby.

Oh damn, he’s gonna kill him now!

“I surrender!!!” Consited suddenly screamed, dropped his rifle, and jumped out of the trench, galloping on three legs toward the Harmonic Army. He held his left foreleg up as if to show that he had no weapon.

“Wait, whatcha doin’?!” Dropper yelled after him, reloading his machine gun. “Cons…!”

Hard to rise from knees,
But our power has increased.
The ponies come from all the land to join our rows…

Something whistled through the air, and the unicorn with the ridiculous name Consited Jacanapes, which seemed to have been penned by an inept ficwriter, collapsed to the snow, blood spurting from his ripped throat.

Greg’s eyes widened as he realized what had happened.

It was Dusty Night who had flung a knife at the soldier who had tried to surrender. But not a single shot had been fired at the unicorn from the enemy side.

And then the body was run over by a tank’s tracks.

Mellow rubbed his eyes to make sure he hadn’t imagined it.

Several tanks with Celestia’s sun on their armor, slightly less formidable and imposing than the burned-out ones of the Lunar Army, were advancing through the cleared corridors, straight into the trenches of the Equermacht.

Grenades flew under the heavy tracks, but the infantrymen who noticed them in time floated them away. Slowly but surely, the tanks made their way forward.

This is bad, Greg thought, turning his head and trying in vain to keep his eyes on something. We’ll probably have to retreat now!

From Mareposa
To Ponderosa!
Call of our homeland,
Equestria shall prevail!

The last line, spoken almost syllabically, seemed to be the signal. The Equestrians rushed forward in another suicidal attack. But now they really believed they could do it.

“What the hay kinda stupid names are these?!” Dropper shouted, frantically firing his machine gun. “Are there no other towns?!”

The gray pony’s brain immediately recalled his work in a transportation company and threw in some information.

“Well, Mareposa is to the northwest!” Greg replied, glancing over their heads. “And Ponderosa is almost right behind Canterlot! So that’s literally the whole area for them! And of the other towns, I think only Hoofington and Albion rhyme!”

“But Hoofington’s now under the Southern States, and Albion’s ours! Or…” the pegasus frowned for a moment, “they really think Stalliongrad’s gonna take over the whole north?!” He grinned angrily. “Damned sunfuckers’ asses…!”

Greg said nothing. He fired bullet after bullet from his dwindling supply, almost panicking about what to do if the Equestrians got to their trenches.

If he resisted, he would be shot. And they would be right in their own way.

But if he dropped his weapon and raised his hooves, Dusty Night… or Dropper, could finish him off. A look at the pegasus, cursing desperately at the machine gun, made Greg think he could really crush his skull for the mere thought of surrender.

What to do? What to do, what to do…?

Looking around, Mellow suddenly realized he couldn’t see Dusty anywhere. The thestral overseer, who’d been assigned to their squad to watch over the soldiers’ loyalty to Luna, when things got really hot, had just… run away as one of the first!

This new thought sent a shiver down Greg’s spine. Indeed: seeing the advancing firepower, the Equermacht soldiers were abandoning their positions! And even if Dropper hadn’t noticed it yet, they two were now alone in the frontline!

And the ponies of the Harmonic Army continued to sing.

Stand and follow command, our hearts for Equestria!
Heed Celestia’s call and brace for the fight!
Ponies, let’s never give in, there is no surrender!
The sunshine and rainbows will make our new day bright!

Along the trenches, pouring lead down on the rapidly retreating Lunar Army, drove a wagon with a machine gun mounted on it, pulled by two powerful-looking ponies. Greg ducked to avoid the hail of fire.

“What the… How could…” Dropper muttered, firing the last of his cartridges. “How’s this even possible?! I shoot… they fall… and still keep goin’!”

“Stratospheres, look out!”

Greg jumped at the pegasus, pushing him away from the machine gun and partly covering him with his own body.

And in the next instant, a fountain of frozen earth and metal debris erupted where they had just been.

The tanks reminded them of themselves, destroying the most unyielding machine gun point of the battle.

Greg’s ears rang from the explosion, but he was still conscious. Blinking away the black flies in front of his eyes, the gray pony rose to his hooves – and almost fell again.

“Noooooo! Dropper…!”

Mellow had only shielded the pegasus from the back – but the rest of his body had taken a direct hit. A large piece of shrapnel was sticking out of Dropper’s belly, and his right hind leg was bent unnaturally. Now Stratospheres couldn’t walk on his own – and unlike Greg, he wasn’t even going to regain his senses.

And Celestia’s soldiers were getting closer.

“Alright, Dropper, I’ll get you out of here…”

With a heavy body on his back, Mellow staggered away. As far as he could remember from the layout of the trench, there was a side corridor nearby that would allow him to get away from the front of the battle.

Greg could feel the blood soaking into his overcoat, and he was buckling under the weight – but he kept going, knowing the enemy was on his tail. They both had only one chance – to get as far away as possible.

We shall survive, the gray pony kept telling himself. I don’t know how, but we must do it. We shall survive. No matter what. Definitely.

Royal Canterlot Radio, February 2.

Attention! Canterlot speaking!

On January 16th, 1008, the Lunar Army troops, having deployed more than ten infantry and motorized divisions against the Eastern Front, began their general offensive against our capital.

The enemy’s goal was to use the coverage and simultaneous deep bypass of the front flanks to get to our rear, encircle and then take Canterlot after an imminent multi-day blockade.

Until the second of February, our forces fought fierce defensive battles, holding off the enemy’s offensive flank groups and reflecting their supporting attacks near Ponyville and the Everfree Forest. As a result of these battles, the Equermacht suffered significant losses.

On February second, 1008, after exhausting the enemy in battle, the troops of our Eastern Front launched a counteroffensive against the flank attack groups! As a result of the offensive, both of them were defeated and retreated hastily, abandoning equipment, weapons and suffering losses.

The success of our army was also due to the morale of our soldiers, which remained at a high level even in the days of setbacks, but was especially supported at the right moment by a new song, composed and performed on the battlefield by our inimitable Joakim Trotten! Joakim, you are the best! Thank you so much for this!

Nightmare Moon’s plan to surround and occupy Canterlot has failed!

Victory will be ours!

…Royal Canterlot Radio, the latest and truest news every hour.

This is Amethyst Star. We’ll be right back after a little break.

And now, the very song that turned the tide of battle at the right moment…

Radio Nox.

He-hey, hello everyone, dear listeners, DJ Pon-3 is with you again! You’re probably all wondering how our brave soldiers are faring under that stronghold of arrogance and universal evil called Canterlot? No news yet, all we know is that our troops are regrouping a bit to make another attempt at storming that despicable lair of wretches. Don’t worry, we’ll know more soon. In the meantime, here’s a new hit for you – my super-duper drum & bass march “Our Banner Flies Ahead”!

You’ll see, one day the Lunar Banner will fly over the towers of Canterlot Palace!

Death to Celestia! Praise the Moon!

[1] Slyphstorm – Soldiers of the Night.
[2] Ponyfication of the song Sabaton – Defense of Moscow.