The War of Moon and Sun

March – April 1008

Over the Spa Islands in the South Sea, a tropical downpour was raging.

Streams of water rained down from the sky onto the forested hills that remained green all year round. The creeks that flowed from the small forest lakes scattered here and there turned into rivers – carrying the mud from the gentle slopes back to the sea. The fishermen’s huts on stilts along the shore seemed to become an archipelago of small artificial islands surrounding the main and largest of this remote province.

Unlike the islands of Puerto Caballo to the southwest, the archipelago of Spa could not boast of any prosperity. A few patches of rainforest land with rainfall at least every other day was not an attractive place for settlement or tourism. Not many ponies lived here, mostly descendants of the earliest settlers who had made it part of Equestria. Most lived in the seaport of Southpoint, southwest of the main island. The rest of the province was almost uninhabited, with only fishermen settling on the other islands to contribute to the region’s budget.

But being lost and sparsely populated had its advantages.

There were four Equestrian naval bases scattered throughout Spa. Two of them were located on the larger islands, and two more on the smaller ones to the north. And while the latter two were usually empty, as there simply weren’t that many ships in the area, now, in the last few months, the docks, piers, and jetties were nearly full of warships. Even considering that most of the fleet had not stayed here, but had gone further out, to Vanhoover.

Rear Admiral Cynosura sighed and took her eyes off the window. Watching the rain was unbearably boring, and there was nothing else to do here.

It was three months since their fleet docked at the isles, refusing to move further around the shattered Equestria. Some of the locals were pleased with the defenders’ arrival, while others grumbled that they had more mouths to feed. In recent years, the region had been on a subsidized budget, but now all the money was going to the war, and there was simply nothing left for the distant provinces. So the local governor immediately told Cynosura that she would have to fend for herself – or help the inhabitants to do so. She decided to choose the second option. It got to the point where her warships were guarding fishing schooners, and sometimes transporting the fish themselves when the catch was too large. For the elite marines, such profanity was a painful humiliation, and the rear admiral occasionally caught the harsh glances of her subordinates.

But worst of all was the uncertainty that was sapping her mental strength more and more every day.

No one had a clue what to do next. Including Cynosura herself.

The only thing left to do was to wait until the situation became clearer.

Her green eyes glanced at the portrait hanging above the door of the brightly lit office.

“I wonder what you would do, Admiral. Well, I know; you’d tell me to drop anchor and go somewhere else. But where to?” The white pony with the light blue mane shook her head. “Here, at least, nopony knows about us.”

A dark brown stallion in a blue navy uniform and a white cap looked at her from a large picture. This was Equestrian Navy Admiral Dust Hoover.

“When the whole New Lunar Republic thing started, and we got from Baltimare to the islands, you had long persuaded me to follow you, assuring me that we would be greeted as heroes in Vanhoover… But I refused. Not out of stubbornness – after all, you were, so to speak, my service mentor – and not out of personal pride. I just felt that Equestria needed to be helped. Especially now that… you know… So I stayed – hoping that, sooner or later, I could be of some use to my suffering homeland.”

She sighed again. “But how…?”

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Who is it?”

“Good evening, Rear Admiral,” a marine said, clutching some papers. “Breaking news. Our radio operators picked up some messages… I think you’ll find this interesting.”

He placed the papers on the table in front of Cynosura, and she dove into the reading while the officer, a dark blue earth pony with major’s epaulettes, continued his report.

“This is a transcript of what was intercepted. The communication seems to have been between the Dragon Isles and two ships from Chiropterra. They were asking the dragons to allow them to stop so they could resupply and rest before moving on. When asked about the purpose of the trip, the Chiropterrans replied that it was supposedly a ponytarian mission, but you and I both know what that means. There’s no question that these are warships. And under the circumstances, given that Chiropterra was founded by Nightmare Moon followers who had just escaped from Equus, they couldn’t help but send their troops to the so-called Republic.”

“And what about the dragons?” Cynosura asked absent-mindedly, running her eyes over the lines.

“They took a cool attitude to the Chiropterrans’ request and forbade them to land on the main island but made it clear that they couldn’t prevent them from stopping on one of the outlying ones. According to our analysts, the Chiropterrans will choose some of the eastern islands because they are directly in their path, and there are more comfortable conditions, but no dragons’ bases, unlike, for example, on Smaug Isle. And they’ll arrive there in a few days, after which they’ll probably go to Fillydelphia or even straight to Manehattan.”

“So that’s how–” Cynosura pushed the papers aside and looked at the officer. “Contact the dragons, Cobalt. Get them to do whatever they can to prevent the Chiropterrans from disembarking. Do anything, even threaten a naval blockade if they do. We mustn’t let them get to Equus. Also, tell all ship commanders to be ready to move out at a moment’s notice.”

“Aye.” The marine saluted. “Permission to leave?”

“No. One more thing…”

Cynosura pushed a blank sheet of paper in front of her, took a pencil between her teeth and started to write something.

After a while she hoofed the sheet to the officer.

“We must warn our bases in Village Up North and on the Griffish Isles. If anything happens, their ships will have to join us. I sketched a rough route to send the message.” The rear admiral grinned. “You’ll have to rely on the decency of many ponies, of course, but what can we do? In war, any means are good.”

“Celestial State, Confederation, Equestria, Crystal Empire, Stalliongrad…” Cobalt muttered as he read the list of cities and looked at Cynosura in disbelief. “Are you sure it’s worth it? If we fail, our plans will be known to all…”

“Plans are meant to be changed,” the blue-haired pony smiled. “We have nothing to lose either way.”

“But you know that the Griffish Isles are occupied by Stalliongrad and Village Up North by Nova Griffonia, don’t you? They won’t let the Equestrian ships out. Or will detain them…”

“We won’t even ask the Griffons for anything. And the Commies are our allies now, so I don’t think they’ll be too stubborn. After all, they have their own grudge against the Lunar Republic… Anyway, we’ll see. You may leave.”

The marine left, and Cynosura turned back in her chair to the window.

But now her lips were curved into a gambling smile.

The clouds that had hung over the ocean the night before had parted, and now there was only a light haze of clouds, with some sunlight shining through.

The Dragon Isles were often thought of as a barren, rocky place. However, they were not just rocks rising out of the sea. The Mountain in the center of the main island was surrounded by a sparse forest, and the smaller eastern islands also had their share of greenery. Not as much as Smaug Island to the south, which was a veritable tropical jungle, but still.

Two ships were entering the wide bay, moving along the low shore. Their hulls glistened with gray metal, and from their flagpoles fluttered the Chiropterra ensign, dark blue with a light border and the image of a lunar disk with Nightmare Moon’s head surrounded by twenty six-rayed stars. The memory of what those stars might have meant beyond the night sky was lost in time; the most common version was that of the twenty cities that had sided with the Lunar Princess in the war a thousand years ago.

A frigate led the way, the barrels of a dozen cannons glaring over the sides, and behind it moved the troop carrier, heavier and clumsier.

On the upper deck of the latter stood a pony in heavy armor that completely enveloped his body. His eyes were glowing red, his nose was covered with an ugly air filter with black tubes extending from it, and his head was crowned with a pair of steel horns. And judging by the insignia on his armor, his rank was quite high.

Another approached, a gray-brown thestral in a tight-fitting dark green uniform with a high collar.

“How’s it going?” came from beneath the steel helmet in a distorted, growling voice.

“The dragons are angry,” the thestral shrugged. “After all, we’re docking in their lands despite the ban.”

“I don’t care. Their opinion is insignificant to our goals. Although,” came a rumbling chuckle, “more likely they just skimped on supplies. We could deal with them, but we don't have time. Got to keep moving. The Lunar Empress is waiting for us.”

“Yes, Commander. We have plenty of supplies, so it’s not a problem. We’ll stay here for a day, that should be enough.”

“Good. Anything else?”

“Yes…” The batpony hesitated. “When we heard of the return of Her Majesty, may the stars be with Her, of course we couldn’t help but do our duty and go to her… But there, in Equestria, she has already gathered her army and is successfully fighting her enemies… What if we turn out to be… not her closest allies?”

“You know, Alastor,” the armored pony grinned again, “if we were in Ayakachtli right now, you’d be captured by the military ponice and taken to Emerald Light for saying that[1]. But since we’re out here in the middle of the ocean, I’ll tell you that I share many of your concerns.

“The Equestrian thestrals have not served the Empress as loyally as we have, yet they now consider themselves her core followers. All the slogans, the gestures…” He lifted a hoof and shook his head. “All of it perverts the essence of the Night’s rule. There should be only one gesture: bowing to the ground, expressing total submission. And the cry…”

Suddenly, he drew air into his chest, and a thin, piercing, almost ultrasonic squeal, familiar to every batpony and reinforced with metal, rang out across the bay.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Alastor looked at his commander in surprise.

“Heh, this tin can –” the armored pony tapped his chest with a hoof “– can do a lot of things. It’s not for nothing that the Department cuts down so much striped bio-trash every day. Dangerous guys, I’d tell you, but they’re doing the right thing.”

“But what should we do?” asked the thestral worriedly. “I mean, when we get to Equus.”

“Exactly as we ought to,” the armored pony sighed. “Fight for the glory of the Empress, and fight so desperately and bravely that she will take notice of us and recognize us as her most loyal soldiers. Because we, her warriors, have been with her for a thousand years,” he snorted contemptuously, “not just four measly months.”

“The Moonspeakers are very strong right now. Do you think Lunar Hail, may her name shine in the night, can hoofle the role of Imperial Warlord?”

“That’s none of our business, Alastor. But our guys are giving those wankers from Tobuck and Warzena a good thrashing right now. Time will tell. But we must win. The Empress will not forgive us for a defeat.”

“Žedem nas haine,” Alastor muttered in Bathoif, the Thestral dialect of ancient Wingpony. “To each his own…” He glanced at his commander again with a professional look. “The dragons could have tipped off the Equestrian fleet on the Spa Islands. I don’t think they’d miss a chance to lure us into a trap.”

“The fire from our cannons would be the last thing they’d see. Anyway, I’ve got a better idea.”

The ships slowed to a stop. A horn sounded from the frigate, and the soldiers joined in with a cheerful squeal. The anchor chains jingled as they were unfurled: Chiropterra’s ships were coming to a temporary anchorage.

“Let’s go, Alastor,” the armored pony said, heading for the gangway leading to the lower deck. “Time to disembark here.”

The land north of Canterlot was still covered in snow. Winter Wrap Up had not reached here, and spring in this part of Equestria, where few ponies had lived before the war, would come at a time to be determined by nature.

A low, rolling rumble came from over the hills, scattered through the still bare forest. The artillery thundered steadily on both sides, now entrenched in four months of fighting and engaged in positional warfare. Only air raids and the mostly unsuccessful landings of the Pegasenwaffe provided a little variety.

The Lunar Republic continued to advance, but Equestria held firm.

On a patch of trampled snow in the lowlands, nine ponies stood in a circle, looking at each other with a degree of surprise and wariness. They were all different: in color, size, and race. Four earth ponies, two unicorns, two pegasi, and a creature that looked like a hybrid of a pegasus and a manticore.

All of them, however, wore Equestrian uniforms. And were no doubt ready to fight.

Fortunately, not against each other.

“Uh... Ahem, can somepony explain what we’re doin’ here and who you all are?” asked a light green stallion in full steel armor. On the snow lay his helmet with an opaque visor on the outside.

“Well, let’s say Ah c’n.”

A big red earth pony stepped forward. He was wearing a bulletproof vest and carrying a combat saddle with a shotgun and a Lavender of some new modification mounted on it.

“Master Sergeant Big Macintosh,” he introduced himself, pointing to his patches with his chin. “My personal number won’t mean anythin’ t’ ya, so let’s skip that. Since war began, Ah’ve been in the Special Troop Four. Yesterday, by order o’ the Commander-in-Chief, Ah was appointed t’ command Special Troop Thirteen. It must be ya now.” He looked around at the others. “Now, introduce yaself one by one and tell me ‘bout yaselves. Then we’ll go t’ our positions, and Ah needa know what each o’ ya c’n do t’ help.”

“Let’s start with me, I guess,” the light green pony smiled and shook his yellow mane. “Sergeant Applesnack, Special Troop Eight. As a heavy stormtrooper, I was testin’ new weapons. Ready to be your second in command if you need it.”

“Prove it on the battlefield,” McIntosh replied nonchalantly. “Who’s next?”

“Corporal Jetstream,” the blue-maned pegasus mare with the two Lilies on her saddle pointed to herself. “Special Troop Ten, light cover forces. Fastest flyer in Equestria… well, after Rainbow Dash, of course,” she added with an embarrassed smile.

“Corporal Stonewing,” said the pale pegasus with two Lavenders. “Special Troop Eleven, heavy cover forces. I may not fly like Jet, but I’m pretty fast myself.”

“Vanity Blueblood,” said the white unicorn with the emerald mane. He was armed with a rifle and two large-caliber revolvers. “Brother of the Commander-in-Chief, volunteer. Special Troop Seven, magic-enhanced infantry. Participated in the Battle of Canterlot; notably, I was the one who shielded Joakim Trotten…”

“Really?!” Jetstream’s eyes widened. “And why did an elite gentlecolt descend to us mere mortals?”

“Nobility doesn’t matter when the fate of the entire country is at stake. I’m just doing what I have to.”

“Talk ‘bout this later,” Big Macintosh interrupted. “Next.”

“Private Doofus. Or just Doof,” said the gray stallion with a body more powerful than even Big Mac’s. “Troop Two, heavy infantry. I’d like to have a big machine gun, and then nopony’ll get through,” he grinned.

“Echo,” said a small and stubby yellow earth pony. A metal case lay on the ground beside him. “Radio operator, Special Troop Six, terrain reconnaissance.”

“Psalm,” the black unicorn breathed out faintly. The latest Stalliongrad SVT-40 dangled from her back. “Troop Twelve. Sniper. Taking another’s life is a grave sin… but for Celestia’s sake I do it… may She forgive my soul.”

“You’re one of those Sun Cultists, aren’t you?” Doof snorted. “We don’t have enough Lunar ones…”

“No! But…” Psalm hesitated. “The Princess protects us all. And we… must repay her in kind. With faithful service… no matter how many sins we have to take on.”

“Well, that’s out o’ the question,” Big Mac said and turned to the last one who hadn’t introduced herself yet. “And ya… how didja get here, Miss…?”

“Brass. Just Brass,” replied the half-pegasus, half-manticore, shrugging with a feigned sigh and the grace of a predator. “I was a cripple from birth, and my family sold me for experiments in an underground laboratory of some psychos. When they were arrested, nopony knew what to do with me, so they kept me in the hospital, from which I escaped. I survived for years as best I could, and then things just took off… and here I am. Oh, yes,” she grinned, “Special Troop Twenty-Eight. Only me. But it only lasted a couple of weeks, so,” she waved her lion paws, “you could say I didn’t lose anything at all.”

“So here’s what we’ll do…” Macintosh said, thinking for a moment. “We don’t go t’ the positions but take cover ‘hind that hill. Echo, monitor the airwaves; if ya detect anythin’, let us know. Doof and Ah’ll defend this hill. Don’t worry, Doof, we’ll get ya a machine gun. Jet, Stone. Start air strikes. Ya’ll get hit back, so let’s see how fast y’are. Brass, sneak into their trenches from the woods and make some noise. Applesnack and Vanity, lead the way; if we succeed, the others will join in. Psalm, guard us from the top o’ the hill. Got it?”

“We could’ve figured out what to do ourselves,” muttered Applesnack. “But yes, we do, sir.”

“Thirty push-ups, soldier. And don’t make me tell ya twice.”

“Or what?”

Applesnack lifted his chin and glared defiantly at Macintosh.

“Ya’ll see,” he replied calmly. “So?”

“Hey, hey, what are you doing…?” Jetstream said alertly.

No one answered. The two stallions stared at each other for a while, but then Applesnack sighed, spread his legs and began to do push-ups. Everyone watched in silence as his body rose and fell rhythmically.

When he finished, he straightened up and shook off the snow. Then he looked back at Macintosh.

“Anythin’ else, sir?”

“Not yet,” Big Mac shrugged. “Chill out, Sarge, it ain’t no time to match balls ‘bout who’s got the toughest. We’ll find out who’s good for what in battle, not in idle talk.”

“I agree,” Vanity nodded. “But before we go, maybe we should think of a name for our squad? Obviously, we’ve been assembled from various units as the best in the field, so a simple number won’t do.”

“Yes! How about…” Jetstream thought, “the ‘Marauders’?”

“Marauding is a felony, Jet, and you know it,” Stonewing pointed out. “But we’re not gonna do anything like that, are we?”

“I meant figuratively! You know, to be feared and respected…”

“Well, just ‘Marauders’ doesn’t sound right,” Doof objected. “We need something like… kinda…” His gaze fell on Big Mac. “Oh! How about ‘Macintosh’s Marauders’? Hmm, what do you think?”

“Ah don’t mind,” replied the red stallion. “Let’s go. Those Nightmare Moon jerks are waitin’ for us.”

“That’s right,” Brass said with a predatory smile. “So, let’s get started?”

And she sprinted towards the hill, shells exploding all around her.

The others, led by McIntosh, went after her.

Applesnack was the last. As he followed them through the wet snow, he glared at Big Mac’s back unfriendly.

The squadron was sailing through the South Sea at full speed.

A cool breeze blew across her cheeks and ruffled her mane. Her cap lay beside her, but Cynosura was in no hurry to put it on. There was a kind of primal pleasure in just standing on the upper deck, face exposed to the wind, imagining the waves crashing against the stem ahead. At such moments, she felt like a master of this wild force.

And up ahead, the islands loomed. Rugged and uninhabited, they beckoned with their primitive beauty, as if suggesting it would be good to rest. Come to think of it, it was a true paradise for tourism – and with proper investment, it was quite possible to make this place even more attractive…

But the war somehow didn’t help tourism. Or rather, it gave another meaning to traveling to foreign countries.

And now they were not on a quiet sea voyage. The cannons were already being loaded on board, and ahead, beyond the visible part of the nearest island, there was an enemy to be stopped.

And if necessary, destroyed.

A soft coughing sounded nearby and Cynosura turned around.

“Everypony ready?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cobalt nodded. “Is the plan the same?”

“Yeah, no change. Go around the island on both sides and seal off the entrance to the bay. If they resist, fire on them.” The rear admiral grinned. “After all, the dragons are more on our side than theirs. The provided sailing directions helped us a lot – at least now we know where the enemy might be and what to expect from them.”

“I’d argue with the second one,” the marine said with a snort. “They’re Chiropterrans. They haven’t been away from Zebrica for a thousand years. There are stories about them that would make your mane stand on end. Many are lies, of course, but who knows what’s true.”

“Like what?” Cynosura raised an eyebrow.

“For example, they are said to turn earth ponies into killing machines by inserting steel bones, fusing flesh to metal, and implanting armor and weapons. This makes the mechanical soldiers in constant pain, and they have to take opium…”

“They’re all on that stuff.” She shrugged. “Freaking junkies.”

“It helps them in battle, though,” Cobalt said and continued, staring off into the distance. “Unicorns are implanted with magic-enhancing talismans, and pegasi and thestrals are trained for years in secret monasteries where they’re turned into devoted Nightmare Moon fanatics. I’ve read the history books about Zebrica, and they describe the Chiropterran soldiers as fearsome in their rage, unstoppable warriors. To put it bluntly, I have no desire to face them.”

“We must be prepared for anything,” Cynosura said slowly. “But first, let our cannons speak for us.” She stared ahead, where the island loomed before them. “Hard left. Split up.”

The squadron dispersed. Half of the ships, led by Cynosura’s cruiser, the Sun Princess, turned west, while the rest began to circle the island from the east.

The mare glanced warily at the passing landscape to her right. Something about this quiet, rocky place made her uneasy.

She ordered the speed to be reduced to dead slow. The ships began to glide slowly along the shore. This side of the island was higher, though not as wooded, and anything could hide behind the curves of the towering cliffs.

It was quiet here. Not like the coast. The cries of seagulls were not heard over the water, and the tide seemed to come cautiously, even fearfully, over the steep slopes.

Perhaps it was because dragons lived here. Or maybe it was the sneaky enemy that had camped nearby.

Careful… A little more… Well, what the hay is… OH CRAP!!!

Cynosura rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t imagining it.

An enemy frigate and a troop carrier emerged from behind the cliff and headed north-northwest, accelerating rapidly.

What’s more, they were already deploying their cannons.

“Guns to battle!!!” yelled the blue-haired pony. “Turn left! Others, surround them on the right! Don’t let them escape! Go, go, go, go, go!!!”

Everyone went into a frenzy. Black smoke erupted from the ship’s funnels. The Sun Princess picked up speed and, following the destroyer on the left, began turning sideways toward the enemy.

From the deckhouse, the radio operator ran out and silently passed a sheet of text to Cynosura. The rear admiral took it with her hoof-kinesis, read the scrawled lines and frowned. Then she showed the radiogram to Cobalt, who was still standing nearby.

“The Mareposa reports that both enemy ships are in the bay. No response to calls for surrender, no activity.”

“Hmm, that’s strange,” he said quietly. “If they’re both here… what’s in the bay?”

They looked at each other. Alarm flickered in their eyes.

And then an explosion rang out on the other side of the island.

A blaze of fire rose so high that it could be seen from behind the cliffs, even from here. Rocks and metal fragments rattled on the slopes, thrown into the air by the shock wave. Gray columns of smoke billowed upward from the side of the bay.

But Cynosura and the sailors around her had no time to worry about their comrades.

For at that moment, the real Chiropterran ships opened fire upon them.

The first shells flew into the water; it looked like the Zebrican cultists were just practicing. But the next volley was successful: the destroyer in front took several hits and began to lean sideways, engulfed in flames.

“Fire!!!” Cynosura ordered. “Main caliber!!!”

She stretched out a hoof, and someone immediately gave her binoculars.

The guns rumbled, firing their deadly confetti at the enemy. One or two shells hit the troop carrier but didn’t do much damage.

“Bowlegged duffers, anchor down your throats!” Cynosura cursed. “Fire again!”

The firefight continued. The ships did not come closer together, but remained far enough apart that only a precisely fired shell could reach its target. Meanwhile, part of the split squadron came in from the other side to attack the Chiropterrans.

The rear admiral looked at the sinister dark gray silhouettes. The enemy frigate was slightly to the left and in front of the dropship, as if to protect it from attack. It seemed to be business as usual – but still, Cynosura couldn’t help but think that they were up to something.

Meanwhile, the destroyer and the two corvettes Cynosura had sent had surrounded the dropship on the right, firing from their entire arsenal.

The Chiropterrans didn’t stand a chance. But they continued to advance anyway.

What in Celestia’s name are you doing… muttered the blue-haired pony as she watched through her binoculars as the lighter and more maneuverable Equestrian ships were mercilessly destroying the enemy troop carrier.

Several shells had clearly hit the latter below the waterline. At the same time a fire broke out on its deck from a punctured fuel tank.

If they wanted to live, they should have raised the white flag long ago. But for some reason it didn’t happen.

Are they just going to die like this? Cynosura bit her lip, thinking tensely. No, this is clearly some kind of calculation… Get us to the point where we feel our total victory, and then… But what can these thestrals…

She blinked. Thestrals… thestrals, buck them! Of course…

“Attention!” she yelled. “Prepare for air attack! Rifles and pistols ready!”

If we only have time…

Sailors and marines began removing weapons from the deck pyramids. Cobalt also went down and returned with two Lavenders. Cynosura pulled out her award revolver. Finally useful, she thought as she looked at the chrome mouthgrip of the weapon lying on her hoof.

In the meantime, the enemy dropship was already engulfed in flames. The frigate wasn’t as badly damaged, though, as it easily dodged the attacks.

Whatever the Chiropterrans had in mind, now was the time to put it into action.

Suddenly, a thestral tumbled over the bulwark of the cruiser’s lower deck. Water poured from him, and on top of his wet uniform he carried something that looked like sticks of dynamite.

And furthermore, he held a ring in his teeth, the thread of which led directly to the explosives.

Rifle barrels were immediately aimed at him. The thestral grinned, baring his fangs.

“For Nightmare Moon!” he cried in a whistling voice, and with a flap of his wings, he pushed off the deck and flew upward.

Straight for the superstructure, where Cynosura and Cobalt were standing.

Bullets flew at the suicide bomber. One pierced his wing, another hit him in the neck, and several more tore through his legs. Blood poured onto the deck.

But that didn’t stop him. In a last desperate effort, he flew higher and swooped straight on the officers above, his shot wings pushing against the air.

Cobalt pushed Cynosura away and shot the batpony twice in the face. The rear admiral also fired a bullet from her revolver. Drenched in blood from his shot forehead and nose, the enemy grinned in agony and pulled the fuse ring with his teeth.

Lying on the deck, all Cynosura could see was Cobalt covering her with his body… and then all was lost in the roar of the explosion and the heat of the flames.

They were thrown over the fence. The revolver slipped from the mare’s mouth and rattled somewhere below, tossed by the shock wave.

The planks of the lower deck slammed into her back, knocking the air out of her lungs. Her left hind leg gave out, twitching as if with electricity. Cynosura opened her mouth to scream in pain, but no sound came out.

Cobalt hissed and rolled off her, groaning as he rose to his hooves. She still tried to breathe – and finally did it.

Lying on the deck, looking up at the cloud-covered sky, Cynosura took a few more gulps of air… and then laughed soundlessly and hysterically.

She was still alive – even though she should have been dead. And Cobalt too.

“Rear Admiral… are you all right?” the major’s hoarse voice came from behind a murky veil.

He knew she wasn’t. Besides, he could hardly stand himself.

But that didn’t matter now.

The marines were already rushing towards them – probably to take (or carry) them to the infirmary. Cynosura snorted and stretched out a hoof to brush her disheveled mane over her forehead.

No way. She wouldn’t play helpless when the fight was not over.

She lifted herself slightly to sit up. The burns from the explosion began to hurt all over her body. A pair of binoculars with a cracked lens lay nearby, so Cynosura reached out, grabbed them - and then stared at what was happening at sea.

The dropship was sinking deeper into the water with each passing second. The frigate, leaving her to her fate, was speeding away to the north.

But not even that was the main thing.

Breathlessly, the blue-haired pony watched as a swarm of figures, visible from such a distance as dark little dots, gathered in the air above the dying ship.

An entire swarm of armed thestrals.

Some of them rushed after the departing frigate: saving their own skins must have been their priority. The rest began to spread out and dive down at the Equestrian ships – once the battle was lost, there was nothing more to be done about it.

“To the wheelhouse,” Cynosura said as she struggled to her hooves, supported by two marines. “We’ll fire back there.”

It was a hard walk. She had to hobble on her hind leg, which still had not regained sensation. The hardest part was to bend down to pick up her revolver, which had bounced right up to the bulwark: her leg refused to flex, but she didn’t want to flop around on the deck. Finally, one of the marines lifted the weapon with telekinesis and passed it to the rear admiral.

Although it was only a short distance to the wheelhouse entrance (Cynosura and Cobalt had obviously fallen in a good spot), the group of ponies barely had time to get there and block the door before the thestrals descended upon the Sun Princess.

The cruiser’s captain and first mate were already there – they had come down from the bridge just after the suicide bomber’s attack. And with their prize weapons drawn, they were also ready to defend themselves against the unexpected onslaught.

The watch pony had slid down to the ground so he couldn’t be seen from the outside, and now he was watching the dashboard.

“It’s a little unfair to attack like this, knowing it’s all over,” said the captain, a unicorn in a white uniform, looking out the window at the batponies scurrying around the ship. “Though we should respect their stubbornness to fight no matter what.”

“War is a dishonest thing in itself,” said Cynosura, sitting in a chair against the wall at the side of the exit. “Especially when it’s fought for irrational reasons. And these are just idiots. Dangerous idiots. They’ve been abandoned by their comrades, but they’re still going to die for their Princess.” There was a clear contempt in that last word. “They’ll call it heroism – but they’ll just die for nothing.” She sighed. “And deservedly so, to be honest.”

The first shot hit the side window, spraying a hail of shrapnel. The captain looked out and fired a few rounds, driving the thestral away from their hiding place.

Cobalt stood beside Cynosura, protecting her from any frontal fire. Two armed marines were positioned at the windows, one protecting the rear admiral, the other the captain and mate.

From her seat, Cynosura could see the battle between the Equestrians and the Chiropterrans raging around their area of tense calm. Taking cover behind the corners of superstructures, masts, barrels, and stacks of crates, sailors and marines took aim at the batponies that circled the ship like a flock of hungry vultures. Those of the enemy who attempted to approach the wheelhouse were especially eagerly fired upon. The crew realized that with the loss of command, their apparent victory would turn into a shameful defeat.

But the thestrals were not about to give up so easily either. Maneuvering so fast that the eye could not keep track, they swooped down on the common ponies and either slashed them with bayonets or sank their fangs into their necks and tore out their throats. There were puddles of blood everywhere, and more bodies fell to the deck from time to time.

Cobalt swore through his teeth.

“…they’ll kill ‘em all while we just sit here!”

“What do you suggest, Major?” The first mate turned to him. “Shall we go out ourselves and die in company? We are in danger as well. Nopony is protected!”

As if in response to his words, one of the observation windows shattered from a stray bullet. Everyone crumpled to the floor, trying not to hit the shards.

Suddenly, something resembling a steel apple flew through the side door into the wheelhouse and rolled across the floor with a thud.

“Grenade…!”

The captain picked up the “apple” with his telekinesis and threw it right at the thestral, who was about to climb inside.

The explosion shattered all the windows and pierced the room with sharp shrapnel. The thestral’s blood covered the instruments and the floor, and the Chiropterran himself fell outside like a shapeless pile of flesh.

Her ears were ringing, and her head was aching and dizzy, as if she’d been hit with a bat. But it didn’t even seem like a concussion, just a slight bruise at most. Cynosura pulled herself up and looked at her hoof. The skin was sore and riddled with broken glass.

Well, it could have been worse. Much worse.

“Everypony okay?!” Cobalt asked.

Apparently, the explosion had also jarred his ears, for he asked in a hoarse, loud shout.

“No,” the captain muttered, looking at the motionless body of the watch pony, and picked up his pistol from the floor. Then he turned his gaze to Cynosura. “Rear Admiral?”

“Fine,” she exhaled. Her teeth habitually clenched the grip of her revolver. “How’s it going in there?”

“Not over yet,” Cobalt grumbled. “But we’d better get the hay out of–”

“Watch out!”

The marine turned his head and his eyes widened. But he had no time to do anything.

Through the broken windows, two thestrals flew into the wheelhouse, one purple, the other gray. Fortunately, neither was wearing a suicide belt. But the curved knives they held in their teeth were still formidable weapons.

“For Nightmare Moon!”

The purple one lunged at Cobalt, trying to reach for his throat with his blade. The gray one jumped to the far wall and sliced through the first mate’s neck in one fell swoop. The gunshot blew the thestral’s ear off, and he turned to kick the weapon out of the captain’s mouth with a hoof.

BANG! BANG! the marines’ rifles thundered.

The batpony charging at Cobalt collapsed, staining the bulkhead with his brains, and the marine pushed the corpse away and shook himself off with disgust.

The second enemy didn’t seem to mind the hole in his side. Even without his knife, he tried to rip the captain’s throat out with only his bare fangs. Cobalt fired, putting a hole in the back of the enemy’s head. Another body crumpled to the floor.

The third thestral was already clambering through the window after his comrades. And this time there was no one to deal with him: the marines were reloading their rifles, and Cobalt stood half sideways to the window. Cynosura fired; the recoil made her teeth ache and her neck stiffen. But the goal was achieved: the batpony froze and never moved again.

“Maybe we should cover the openings with their corpses?” Cobalt suggested.

“They’ll get through anyway,” the captain shook his head. “Besides, they’ll be screaming that we desecrated their comrades’ bodies. No way, for Celestia’s sake…”

“Wait,” Cynosura said, and everyone looked at her. “Don’t you think it’s gotten a little too quiet out there?”

Everyone’s ears pricked up, still filled with the echoes of grenades and rifle fire.

And indeed. No more gunshots or cries of pain reached the cabin. As if nobody was left alive outside.

“Let’s find out,” Cobalt muttered and turned to the door.

It was immediately banged on.

“Who’s there?!” the captain shouted, raising his pistol with magic.

The others also turned around with their weapons in front of them.

“Your own!” came a muffled voice. “Captain! The enemy is almost destroyed, two fighters captured! Losses on our side are minimal! The other ships also report our total victory!”

Cynosura exhaled in relief and leaned back against the bulkhead.

The damage made itself felt in an instant. She almost groaned as the burning sensation on her blast-scarred skin, the sharp itching of her cuts, and the pulling pain on the left side of her lower back all came at once. She no longer had the energy to ignore it all.

But at least she could stop pretending that everything was okay.

“All right! Who’s this?”

Despite the good news, the captain was in no hurry to unlock the wheelhouse.

Probably afraid it’s just a diversion.

“Ensign Sea Spirit!” came from behind the door. “You also told me before the battle to eat less in the galley…”

“Okay, come in!”

The captain personally went to the exit and pulled the bolt. Behind the door was a heavy-looking earth pony in a battered and blood-spattered uniform that was clearly too small for his belly.

“Well done!” The captain clapped him on the shoulder with all his might. “Well, ensign, get ready – you’ll be a lieutenant!” And, glancing at the marines who protected them, he added, “And you guys deserve a promotion, too.”

“Long live Equestria!”

All three saluted bravely.

The captain saluted back and looked at Cynosura.

“Is it all right if I do this without asking you…?”

“I’m afraid I’m in no position to object right now,” she smiled weakly. “You’ve all proven yourselves worthy. And I will, of course, consider rewarding you. But now…” She rose to her hooves but fell back again. “Could you help me up, please?”

And so they all went out onto the deck. Only now could Cynosura see the battlefield with her own eyes. Bodies everywhere, bloodstained knives, rifles with split buttstocks… She had to be careful not to step accidentally into the metal-smelling puddle.

And it’s probably like this all over Equestria right now… she shook her head. But then she narrowed her eyes in determination. But we’re still going to fight. If not the land units, then at least the remnants of their fleet.

Some movement caught her eye. She looked up and stopped, watching as two marine-clad pegasi carefully lowered a thestral in a tattered green uniform to the deck. A bullet hole was clearly visible in his leathery left wing, and he appeared to be unconscious.

Like a wet chicken, really, Cynosura snorted with some pity as she saw the streams of water dripping from the batpony’s body.

“Here, take the prisoner,” one of the pegasi said as the three of them landed. “I guess he’s kinda bigwig… was, anyway. He was floundering like shit in a pool, pardon my Griffonian, in the direction the frigate had gone. Must have been shot by his own to avoid sharing space on the ship.”

Cynosura and Cobalt looked at each other.

“Well, well... that’s interesting,” the blue-haired pony said with a slight smile. Then she looked at the pegasi. “Thank you for your service. Tie him up for now and throw him in the brig.” She narrowed her eyes at Cobalt, who gave her a nod. “We’ll have something to talk to him about soon.”

Spring has finally come into its own. But without Winter Wrap Up, it was going to be a long, painful, and unpleasant process.

Long – because it would obviously take more than a month. Painful – because it had been a long time since nature had recovered from winter on its own. Unpleasant – because Equestria was being swallowed up by a slush that hadn’t been there for hundreds of years.

And the ponies were not happy about it.

“What a ha-aystack we’re in…” Applesnack muttered, lifting his leg to look at his mud-stained hoof. “So we’re gonna get all dirty here…”

“Quiet,” Macintosh said, peering out from behind the bushes.

Their squad was lurking in a wooded area across from an open field where the Lunar soldiers stood. Over the past few days, the Equestrians had advanced a hundred yards, thanks in large part to the Marauders. But it would take more than that to drive the enemy out of here.

The cannons on both sides fired blindly over the trees, so that shells hit somewhere in front of them and somewhere behind them. Shots crackled here and there: it was a sluggish, protracted battle in which neither side had a decisive advantage.

At least until this day.

“All clear,” Big Mac said quietly, ducking back under the cover of the bushes. Applesnack, Psalm and Echo sat with him, knee-deep in mud. “No one on this side. We go by the plan: get close, fire from ‘hind the trees, then attack if possible. Got it?”

“Ee-yup,” snorted Applesnack and moved his croup, adjusting his saddle with a rifle and a new grenade launcher. “Lead on, Sir Big Apple.”

“No more jokes.” Big Mac stood up and looked back at the others. “Snack, with me. Psalm, Echo, get in position. We’re gonna need ya soon.”

“Yes, sir,” the black unicorn mare said weakly.

The yellow earth pony nodded and went back to fiddling with his radio.

Two stallions moved through the forest. Water splashed under their hooves, but the sound was lost in the firefight going on nearby.

Exactly where the rest of the troop was.

They walked slowly, hiding behind trees now and then to avoid being seen. Both wore mud-covered armor, but Big Mac didn’t seem to notice, and Applesnack soon stopped muttering curses and seemed to accept the inconvenience.

There hadn’t been much conflict between them in the past few days. Applesnack no longer tried to challenge Big Mac’s supremacy, though he did sometimes give his commander a disapproving look. Macintosh, as always, was calm and quiet, but most of all, he valued the health and lives of his subordinates. So far, no one had even been seriously wounded (minor scratches didn’t count) but the enemy was beginning to learn what teamwork was all about.

At last, the shots rang out close by. Now, in the general din, one could clearly distinguish the clatter of short machine-gun bursts, the neat pops of pistols, and the rolling thunder of rifles. And so could tell who was firing and from which side.

The guys looked at each other. Then Big Mac gave the signal, and they came out from behind the trees.

Suddenly, an Equermacht soldier jumped right at them and, confused for a moment, began to raise his rifle…

A machine-gun burst pierced his body from the side – along with a round of buckshot fired by Big Mac into his face. The disfigured corpse fell face down in the mud.

The bushes to the left slid open. Doof came out with a grin on his face and a machine gun on his back.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” he said, adjusting the cartridge belt on his shoulder. “There’s no enemy left – they’ve all been killed. Now it’s just a matter of moving on.”

“Good,” said Macintosh, shaking his head. “Where the others?”

“Here,” Brass purred in his ear, and the stallion turned sharply.

The half-pegasus, half-manticore smiled playfully and walked around the group to stand beside Doof. Her soft paws managed to tread barely audibly even on mud.

“Ugh… Don’t scare me like that again, okay?” Macintosh exhaled. “Or Ah’ll have time t’ shoot…”

“Sorry, Sir Master Sergeant,” Brass grinned. “Nopony usually complains about me appearing out of nowhere.”

“I can even guess why,” Applesnack rolled his eyes.

At that moment, Vanity and a couple of pegasi walked up to them.

After waiting for everyone to stand in a circle, Big Macintosh looked around at the fighters and spoke, “Now, listen to the plan…”

The Equermacht soldiers huddled in their trenches on the other side of the clearing. Behind them, cannons lined up some distance away, their barrels pointing skyward. They fired from time to time in the direction of the tree line beyond which the Harmonic Army’s holdings began. The advance patrol, judging by the sound of the gunfire, was engaged in battle with someone in the shade of the trees, so everyone kept their eyes fixed on the web of bare branches that hid both their enemies and their own.

Soon the gunfire died down, but no one returned to their positions. A lingering, soul-crushing uncertainty hung over the field. Many obviously realized what had happened, but, seeing the batpony embedded in almost every squad, preferred not to open their mouths and waited in silence for events to unfold.

And so, when a burst of machine-gun fire came from the woods, mowing down a few soldiers looking out of the trenches, it was the signal everyone had been waiting for.

“Ponies, at the ready! Fire!!!” the commanders shouted across the clearing.

Rifles and machine guns aimed at the trees, spewing a hail of lead.

The rumble of gunfire and the whirr of bullets filled the air. The music of war once again went into an endless loop.

Suddenly, in this cacophony, faint pops were heard, and the Lunar Army positions blossomed into a series of explosions.

“Grenades?! But how? What the hay is this…?” cries were heard.

And as if in response to the enemy’s confusion, a pony appeared from behind the trees.

He was fully clad in armor that made him look like an Iron Stallion from the comics – or some sort of creation of Chiropterra’s butchers. This pony was Applesnack, and it was clearly not the first time he had taken on an entire army alone. One of the weapons on his battle saddle fired a few more times, sending a stream of shells straight into the Equermacht trenches.

In the blink of an eye, all the fire shifted to him. But the bullets just bounced off his armor as he continued onward.

The machine gunner of the Equermacht turned the barrel directly on this pony. But he didn’t have time to pull the trigger – his head was blown off by a sniper’s accurate shot.

Psalm, lurking behind the hill, averted her heartbroken gaze from the sight and whispered, “Forgive me, Celestia, for I have sinned: I have taken the life of another.”

Echo, sitting next to her and fumbling with his radio, just sighed and shook his head.

Meanwhile, new forces began to advance on the enemy.

Like a blurred shadow, Brass dashed forward in huge leaps and jumped straight into the trench, where she immediately ripped the throat out of a Lunar Army soldier.

Bullets flew at her, but Jetstream and Stonewing swooped down from above and shot the Lunar troopers at point-blank range. Batponies flew into the air in response, and a death race started over the battlefield.

Brass moved so fast that an eye could not follow her, and her razor-sharp fangs snapped the neck of one Equermacht fighter after another.

Following Applesnack, Big Mac, Doof, and Vanity emerged from behind the trees. The two earth ponies covered their armored friend with saddle fire, while the unicorn set up a shield and fired his pistols.

“Take that, you bastards!” Doof yelled, showering the enemy trenches with so much lead that nopony dared look out, let alone fire back. “Go to the moon, bitches!”

“How rude,” Vanity said, shaking his head. “But on the whole, I agree.”

“Don’t slack off!” said Big Mac. “They can still fight back!”

But for now, the Marauders held the initiative on the battlefield.

Moreover, more and more troops began to appear from the forest as they saw their advance. And it became clear that the Equermacht wouldn’t be able to hold these positions today.

The guns changed their targets: now the Lunar Army’s cannons were hitting the attacking units, and the Harmonic Army's (obviously at Echo's prompting) were striking at the enemy artillery. The radio operator was very accurate in correcting the fire, and the bursting shells destroyed another weapon every now and then.

But the closer the Marauders got to the enemy positions, the more accurate the few enemy volleys became. Splashes of water and mud pelted the soldiers from head to toe, blurring their vision and giving the enemy, who had retreated to the second line of fortifications, time to catch their breath and fire back a few rounds.

With the nearest trenches a few dozen paces away, Big Mac ordered, “Spread out! C’mon!”

Applesnack, still ahead of everyone, fired a few grenades and turned around.

“I’m almost out! Cover me some more!”

“Applesnack, watch out…!” Vanity shouted to him.

“What…”

He didn’t finish.

A fountain of mud and smoke exploded where the stallion had just stood, and the armored earth pony’s body was tossed aside by the blast. Unable to hold on to the slippery slope, he slid straight down into the emptied trench.

“Snack!” Macintosh ran over, rolling down the muddy slope on his hooves…

And was stunned.

The back of Applesnack’s body was scattered several feet around. There was nothing left of the armor below his midriff; its shards had also contributed to turning the green stallion’s groin and legs into a bloody mess. A ribbon of intestines stretched across the ground like an umbilical cord, connecting the still-living pony to the unseen world of the dead.

The stallion’s helmet had fallen from his head; now Applesnack, lying on his back with his mouth open, looked up with slowly glazing eyes. Blood trickled from the corners of his lips down his cheeks.

Macintosh’s eyes widened and he swallowed involuntarily. But then he sighed, regaining control of his emotions, and stomped his hoof into the dirt.

“Hold on, boy!” he growled. “Dontcha dare die here!”

He reached into his bag with his muzzle, pulled out a healing potion, tore out the cork with his teeth and poured the purple liquid over the bloody flesh.

A faint chuckle came from under the helmet.

“So… Sarge… we drive those Lunazis back?” Applesnack said hoarsely.

A drop fell from above the wound, then a second. Macintosh swiped a dirty hoof across his face in confusion, then raised his head to the sky.

The clouds that had been gathering since early morning were swollen with moisture. Now it was time for the first spring rain.

“That’s for Snack, you bastards!” Doof roared as he leapt over the trench with his machine gun, clenching the saddle ropes in his teeth and firing a relentless stream of bullets at the enemy.

Vanity ran after him, taking turns firing his pistols.

Suddenly, a group of pegasi appeared from above, clad in recognizable blue-and-yellow flight suits. And the rainbow trail behind their leader could not be mistaken for anything else.

Forming a wedge, they instantly shot down the batponies chasing Jetstream and Stonewing and unleashed a barrage of fire on the enemy positions. After that, they turned around and disappeared over the forest.

Macintosh lowered his head and looked at Applesnack again.

“Ayep. Ya did good, soldier. Mighty good. They oughta reward ya for that.”

The rain intensified, soaking their coats. Blood mixed with water and mud, leaving dark red stains on the ground.

Applesnack began to choke, coughing up blood. A few splashes flew into Macintosh’s face, but he paid no mind.

“Post mortem, I’m afraid, Sarge,” the green pony exhaled. “Go… finish those… ahem… leave… me here…”

“Don’t talk,” Big Mac said worriedly. “Ah ain’t ready t’ let ya go, buck!”

“Think the Equermacht… has different to say,” Applesnack grinned. “Don’t worry… about me. We… won the day, right?”

His words were drowned out by the close burst of a shell, showering them both with scalding clods of dirt. But Macintosh didn’t even move.

“Sure,” he said. “Don’t even doubt it.”

“Then… no regrets… Well, one regret.” Applesnack smiled. “Never did get to meet that hot sister of yours.”

Big Mac frowned, as if ready to strike the green stallion despite his condition, but then gave a short neigh.

“Now ya got t’ pull through,” he grinned. “So’s Ah c’n buck yer backside, boy!”

“Too… late…”

He coughed one last time and fell silent. His eyes froze lifelessly, staring up at the sky.

Macintosh clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, tilting his head up. Probably to hold back tears.

“No… no, no!” he blurted out. “Ya can’t leave like this, dammit!”

“Sir, how’s he…?”

Jetstream and Stonewing landed side by side – and the blue pegasus cut off her question when she saw what was left of Applesnack. Then she turned away and vomited.

Brass also ran up to them and stopped dead. But Big Mac caught a glimpse of her licking her lips unwittingly.

The sounds of battle faded. From time to time there was only the occasional shot from some kind of weapon, and Doof swore as he fired from his machine gun.

“Look!” Jetstream shouted. The blue pegasus was pointing a hoof at the sky.

Macintosh glanced in that direction and froze, his mouth hanging open.

A yellow sky wagon, pulled by two armed pegasi, came flying from behind the woods, accompanied by the Wonderbolts. Soon, it began to descend and landed in the dirt in the middle of the battlefield.

A dozen ponies emerged from the wagon. Almost all of them were unicorns, but one pegasus stood out.

Fluttershy. Only the blind could fail to recognize this yellow, pink-haired bearer of one of the Elements of Harmony, even from this distance. And a closer look revealed that the images on the wagon were the same as her cutie mark, in the form of little pink butterflies.

By then, Doof and Vanity had jumped into the trench next to the rest of the Marauders. The first one just cursed foully at the sight of Applesnack’s torn body; the second one telekinetically put away his guns and raised a hoof to his temple, saluting the fallen warrior.

“What are they doing…?” Stonewing muttered as he looked at the unicorns lining up.

Fluttershy gave them some instructions, and they began to cast a spell.

A yellow glow emanated from each of their horns. Amber lines of magic rose into the air, intertwined, and a web of magical energy spread across the clearing, gradually descending to the ground. To the ponies standing, sitting and lying on it. To the ponies suffering from pain – and from the loss of their comrades.

Suddenly, one of the yellow lines struck Applesnack from above, and the green stallion was enveloped in a faint glow.

But that was just the beginning.

The Marauders watched with their mouths agape as new flesh grew in the place of the huge wound, hiding the insides that had fallen out. What’s more, a smooth green skin was growing on top of the flesh!

After a minute or so, Applesnack’s legs, which had been completely torn off by the explosion, grew back. So did his stallion manhood, at the sight of which Jetstream looked away in embarrassment and Brass snorted derisively. Only his armor didn’t recover, making the remnants of it look like an ancient guardspony’s costume for Nightmare Night.

And it was like that everywhere. Wounds, even fatal ones, healed without a trace, and those who had been unconscious came to their senses. The magic performed by Fluttershy’s unicorn team was a miracle for the battle’s victims.

Rainbow Dash, clearly in shock, flew to her friend and spoke to her. The words didn’t reach the trench, but the general tone was one of astonishment and approval.

Applesnack blinked. Then, almost immediately, he lifted himself and sat up, looking at his hooves in disbelief. He ran his front hoof over his face, shook off the blood and spat, then looked up at the others.

“Am I… alive?” he said. “I hadn’t even imagined it…”

“Yup, ya alive,” Macintosh replied. “And ya have a few things t’ answer for.”

Applesnack’s eyes widened, and he tried to crawl away. But the master sergeant was quicker, and out of the turn he slammed his hind hooves into his comrade’s newly restored croup, knocking him back a few steps into the muddy puddle.

Right in front of the Equermacht soldier.

“Get down!” Vanity yelled, putting two bullets in the enemy's head before the pony in the crescent helmet could aim his rifle at Applesnack.

“Where the hay did he come from?!” Doof grumbled.

The gray earth pony turned, only to mow down the Lunar Army soldier standing behind him with a short burst from his machine gun.

During the Marauders’ offensive, the Equermacht trenches had been piled with corpses. And now it was as if those corpses had come back to life after their opponents.

The troops found themselves surrounded in the middle of a narrow, muddy trench. And so they bristled with the barrels of battle saddles or (in Brass’ case) exposed fangs.

Rainbow Dash was still shouting. But now her voice was filled with anger and desperation.

“FIRE!!!” Macintosh ordered, and the ring of Marauders exploded with gunfire.

Shots rumbled, mixed with cries of pain and rage. Shells began to fall again, a strange hail that had never left anyone unharmed.

And above it all, the sky wagon could be seen flying away. A machine gun roared in its wake; the wagon swayed a little, but only increased its speed, fleeing from those it had so unexpectedly helped.

The battle was engaged. Again.

In the hold of the Sun Princess, half dark and almost filled with crates of ammunition and provisions, a makeshift prison was set up for the captured batponies.

Sitting in rows on the cool floor, the once militant, now bound and sullen Chiropterrans were a pitiful sight. Only a pale semblance of the fearsome, mighty, and brave warriors of Nightmare Moon remained. Ragged, dirty, wet, some with bloody bandages all over their bodies, the thestrals were visibly dejected and seemed resigned to their fate. Many were still shaking from opium withdrawal.

Cynosura personally ordered that they be given half of the sailors’ rations. They were taken to the latrine twice a day, one at a time, and if any of them decided to misuse the floor of the hold, they were threatened with having their wings cut off. If one of them decided to escape during one of these trips, he would be killed, and all the others would lose a wing. After the wings, something more precious would follow. So it was not surprising that none of the nine surviving enemy fighters were eager to incur the wrath of the Equestrians holding them.

And the tenth batpony, fished out of the cold seawater, was just coming to his senses.

“Come on, wake up… ‘big shot,’” Cynosura snorted, nudging a bound thestral with a bandaged wing with her hoof. “We have some questions for you.”

There were five of them in the far end of the hold: the rear admiral herself, now walking on three legs, her trusty Cobalt, and, just in case, two armed marines, the same ones who’d been covering them in the wheelhouse. And, of course, the prisoner himself.

“Where… Who…” the batpony muttered, blinking after regaining consciousness.

Then he abruptly opened his eyes, which glowed yellow in the dim light and immediately widened even more, probably at the sight of the Equestrian uniform. Turning his head, he looked down at his bandaged wing, sticking out like a crumpled rag from the tatters of his once majestic green uniform, and cursed.

“Oh bitch…!”

“Well, that’s self-critical. Or do you mean the one who shot you?” Cynosura raised an eyebrow. “What a pity. Then why don’t you tell us who did this to you? And to be serious…”

She turned and waved her hoof, and one of the marines pushed a crate over to her, on which she sat down with obvious relief.

“…what the hay were you going to Equus so confidently? Decided to help your Nightmare Moon in the civil war she started? Such a great plan… for a hoofful of traitors who escaped a thousand years ago. Just a Griffon bucking watch.”

“You understand nothing…” the thestral wheezed, twitching in his ropes. “You lick your whore Celestia’s ass from thousands of miles away… while we, the warriors of Chiropterra, have waited so many years for our chance to avenge past wrongs… However,” his fangs bared in a grimace of rage, “after what these scums led by Comet Flash have done, they are unworthy not only to serve our Mistress, but to defile Her lands with their filthy hooves…”

“Who is Comet Flash?” Cobalt joined the conversation. “And why did he order shooting at his own soldiers?”

“Captain-Commander Comet Flash, an earth pony fused to his armor.” Along with the anger in the thestral’s voice, there was a distinct note of… admiration? Or was it fear? “There is no one like him in strength. But what he did,” the prisoner grinned again, “was really like a damned earth pony… He realized that there was no room for all of us on the frigate and decided to reduce the number, so to speak, leaving others to die in the middle of the ocean…

“But you guys are happy to give your life for your lunar mistress, aren’t you?”

The batpony just snarled through his teeth at this remark.

“Well, who are you then?” Cobalt changed the subject. “Name, rank, place of service?”

“I suppose there’s no point in remaining silent, is there?” the prisoner snorted contemptuously. “Alastor Grim, Lieutenant-Commander of the Armed Forces of Her Imperial Majesty’s Legionary Council, Nightmare Legion. Meet and greet, or better yet, kiss my ass, since you’re incapable of anything else…”

“One more verbal escapade and you’ll actually have something up your ass. Like a rifle, a bayonet… or a bullet,” Cynosura replied nonchalantly. “So, once again, what was your purpose in traveling to the shores of Equestria?”

“Isn’t it clear?” the thestral grinned. “To join Her Majesty’s army, may the stars be with Her… To kill all who oppose the restoration of Her rule. But…” his grin turned bitter, “she already has her own army, doesn’t she? And instead of earning the right and honor of being Her closest and most loyal companions, we have to settle for playing catch-up… though the cowardly creatures who escaped don’t deserve that either…”

“Port of entry?”

“Fillydelphia. That’s all I know. Flash was in charge of the operation…”

“Hmm?” Cynosura snorted. “I doubt it. Usually, ponies like you, who are in a secondary role, know at least as much as their commanders… and as practice shows, much more. So don’t pretend you’re not involved. You know everything. And now you’re going to tell us all, whether you want to or not.”

Alastor didn’t say anything, just glanced at the mare.

“And what we want to know is…” Cynosura continued, grimacing in pain as she crossed her legs. “What happened in the bay? What was that explosion? Some kind of distraction for the retreat, right?”

Images of the devastation she had seen when half of her squadron had approached that unfortunate bay flashed through her mind. A frigate had been completely wiped out, and a destroyer and two corvettes had suffered significant damage. Now they were on their way back to base for repairs, after which a replacement would have to go to the islands in their place.

The Dragons had allowed the permanent stationing of Equestrian ships in their territorial waters, and the rear admiral was very pleased about that. Now they had a “beachhead” to start causing Nightmare Moon some real trouble at sea.

“Well, is it catching?” grinned the thestral. “Yes, the genius of our commander is not uncommon…” he wrinkled his nose in pain, “especially when it comes to flight… It wouldn’t have helped us anyway. You can only attack head-on, sunfuckers…”

Cobalt moved forward silently. He walked behind the prisoner’s back and stepped on the bandaged part of his wing with a hoof. Alastor howled and writhed on the floor. The two marines aimed their rifles at him.

But time passed and he still didn’t want to talk business.

Cobalt pressed a little harder and twisted his hoof a little, making the bandages wet and red and the howl louder and almost an octave higher.

“And if you think a little?” the major asked, removing his hoof from Alastor’s wing.

“Alright, alright… I’ll tell you everything…” the thestral exhaled, groaning in pain. “Aw, what are you doing… Yes, the operation was planned. Three unicorns… stayed on the island. One of them… maintained the illusion, the other… levitated a thousand pounds of explosives inside… And when your ships got close enough, the third… activated the fuse by telekinesis.”

“And you just sent three strong, trained magicians to their deaths?” Cynosura asked. “No, it’s no secret you don’t value your fighters’ lives, but this much? Especially with your… limited contingent?”

“There was a whole company out there anyway…! And some of them could have stayed on the frigate… Besides,” the batpony smiled weakly, “they’re going to start screwing up your lives now.”

“We’ll catch them,” Cobalt said. “The islands are small and open, and there’s no place to hide.”

The major had achieved the desired effect, and Alastor was a little dejected at these words.

But suddenly a strange gurgling sound escaped the thestral’s throat, and then he threw back his head and laughed hoarsely.

“What’s so funny, scum?” Cobalt frowned. “You don’t need your wing, do you?”

“We’ll all be rescued anyway,” the prisoner whispered, still laughing. “Her Majesty won’t let your insolence go unpunished! You gave yourself away so foolishly when you could have just stayed hidden and stayed out of our way… Soon… very soon… Her ships will be here, sent to settle accounts with you! Soon you’ll all be destroyed, and it will all be the fault of you…U-U-U…!”

His tone changed to a squeal as the major stepped on his wing again. The bandage on the leathery webbing was already soaked with blood.

“Those pathetic remnants of the fleet we couldn’t take with us back then?” Cynosura said coldly. “Well, let them try. We’ll be only too happy to send them off to feed the clams.”

The thestral kicked weakly into space a few more times, then suddenly leaned back and fell silent.

Lieutenant-Commander Alastor Grim has lost consciousness.

“Call the medics. We don’t want this rat to die before his time,” Cynosura said, getting to her hooves with Cobalt’s help. “We need to catch these unicorns as soon as possible. We don’t need any sabotage… not now, when the Lunatics might really come for us.”

“We’ll do it,” Cobalt grinned, a glint of confidence and excitement in his eyes. “Fear nothing, Rear Admiral. Everything will be as we like.”

The meeting hall of the Supreme Soviet of Severyana, housed in a stately stone building in the Old Square of Stalliongrad, was shaped like an amphitheater. The seats of the deputies descended in tapering rows to the presidium, a long rectangular table where the ponies would sit facing the assembly.

The mahogany furniture, smooth white stone walls, marble floor, crystal chandeliers, and tall windows with soft curtains gave an impression of solidity and solemnity befitting the place.

But this impression was only apparent. Dust had accumulated in a thin layer on the windowsills, and the chandelier lamps had not been wiped for a long time. The edges of the expensive tables were scraped, revealing bare wood under a layer of varnish, and the marble of the floor was ready to crumble under the hooves. The picture was completed by the huge flag of Stalliongrad hanging on the wall behind the presidium – a red banner with a hammer and horseshoe framed by yellow ears, under which was the portrait of a mustachioed stallion with a pipe in his teeth – the leader of the revolution, Steel Stallion.

Severyana, which this hall should reflect, seemed to know better times in its history. It was as if the outward splendor of the building and its furnishings were trying to hide the poverty against which the revolution and (nopony would speak of it under threat of execution) the Stalliongrad Communist Party had been powerless.

The ponies now gathered in the hall, however, seemed to believe that one day they could fix it. Their eyes shone with determination, and in the quiet discussions they had as they walked in groups and took their seats, one could hear their confidence in their own rightness and their willingness to defend their views to the very end.

The battle of ideas that had been raging in the Soviet for the past few years had reached its climax.

Meanwhile, the presidium, represented by the faction leaders, was also filling up. On the outside of their table, facing the hall, in front of each leader was the badge of the ideology he or she supported: the communist horseshoe and hammer, the revolutionary horseshoe and sword, the blue star of harmonic socialism, and even the black and red eagle of supremacy on the right side – although Ratibor Svetoslavovich’s ultra-right faction was quite small. But it was the horseshoes with the hammer that were the most numerous – four out of seven: the supporters of Equestrian socialism had an overwhelming majority in the Soviet.

Finally, the last of the deputies took their seats and the heavy oak doors of the hall closed. Here and there, however, empty chairs could be seen, a result of the recent party purges. The two seats in the presidium were also empty: the one in the center and the second one on the right.

A red-haired earth pony with an elegantly styled blond mane and penciled eyebrows, dressed in a luxurious blue suit, tapped her spoon on a carafe of water, instantly silencing all conversation. She looked quite young – and only a few ponies knew that she was actually sixty-two years old. Then she rose from her seat on the right hoof from the center of the presidium and looked around the audience with her blue eyes.

Her nameplate read, “Karamelka Sladkaya.”[2]

“Comrades,” she said in a well-pitched voice, “the meeting of the Supreme Soviet of April third is hereby declared open. Today, on the twelfth anniversary of the election of Comrade Stallion as the General Secretary of the Central Committee of the Stalliongrad Communist Party, we are gathered here to elect a new leader of the Soviet Socialist Republic of Severyana!”

There was a loud stomp of applause from the audience.

“The debates at the previous meetings allowed us to reveal the main candidates for this position, as well as their ideological positions,” Karamelka continued, picking up a sheet of text from the table with her hoof-kinesis. “With former General Secretary Altidiya Revoltsova and her supporters from the liberal faction led by Dark Wing expelled from the party on charges of voluntarism and revisionism, we are left with two ponies who have expressed their desire to lead the party and the government.

“Comrade Wheatin," she pointed to a light-colored pony with a ginger mane and rectangular glasses, wearing a white shirt, green tie, and vest, sitting to the left of the empty center seat. “Vasiliy Wheatin,” his nameplate read.

To everyone’s stomping, he rose and bowed his head silently.

“…and Comrade Serov.”

To Wheatin’s left, a dark gray earth pony stood up, dressed in an elegant black suit with red trim on the lapels and labeled “Sinister Serov”. He was also the owner of the horseshoe with the sword on the ideology sign.

The applause became a little more modest.

“I ask the candidates to state once again their theses for the Soviet,” finished Karamelka, “then we will proceed to the vote. Comrade Wheatin, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, Comrade Sladkaya.”

Wheatin stood up again and looked around the audience. Then he adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and, with a rustle of papers on the table, began his speech.

“As Acting First Secretary of the Central Committee and Chairman of the Soviet of People’s Commissars, I believe that we are obliged to follow the declared course of strengthening the industrialization of Severyana. To maintain stability, the composition of the government must remain unchanged, which will make it possible to continue the implementation of the Third Five-Year Plan without the delays associated with reorganization. Industrial capacity cannot be developed without creating jobs. To this end, the best choice now is to expand the railway network, which will boost production and improve infrastructure. It is also worthwhile to direct all efforts towards completing the collectivization of agriculture and increasing the role of workers’ cooperatives…”

He spoke for a few more minutes, checking his notes from time to time. But as he put aside his notes and moved to the final passage, his green eyes gazing out into the hall shone like a traffic light, pointing the way to a bright future.

“…But we must also remember the purity of communist views within the party itself. Anyone who questions the path of Severyana’s development as a socialist state is our opponent and has no right to participate in important decisions!” He banged his hoof on the table. “And the example of Comrade Revoltsova has clearly shown what such a ponicy, with the support of counterrevolutionary agitprop, leads to! But now we shall be free from the plague of liberalism! If we wait for a favorable moment, we will spread our ideology all over Equus and take the only true path to world revolution.”

In an instant, almost all the deputies jumped up from their seats and stomped joyfully on the floor and on their desks. The others, looking at each other with some concern, simply applauded politely.

Only one pony in a white wig and old-fashioned gold-embroidered dress, sitting in the top corner, turned away defiantly. His nameplate read “Peter Romanov.”

Wheatin stood with his forelegs planted on the tabletop and his head proudly raised, as if absorbing the emotions of his fellow party members.

As the applause began to die down, Karamelka announced, “Comrade Serov has the floor.”

“Thank you, Karamelka,” Sinister smiled and rose to take Vasiliy's place.

With a long, well-groomed black mane, a perfectly ironed suit, and pleasant blue eyes, the stallion looked disposable and trustworthy. Even Karamelka looked at him now and then in a sweet languor – just like her party nickname.

But those who knew Serov and worked with him looked at him coldly and with some apprehension – including Wheatin himself. After all, if one dug a little deeper, Sinister’s friendly exterior hid a very different pony – tough, ruthless, and calculating.

“As a member of the Central Committee in charge of heavy industry, I generally support Vasiliy’s idea of accelerated industrialization,” he began in a soft, ingratiating voice that made at least half of the mares in the room melt with admiration. Karamelka even closed her eyes and was about to put a hoof under her skirt. “I hadn’t originally planned to go to this election so that I could focus on my own agenda, but the recent events with Altidiya and Dark Wing’s leaving have changed my plans. Now, I’d like to present my views on the future development of Severyana so that you, comrades, can decide if they are worthy of consideration.”

Sinister spoke, deftly choosing his intonation as if he had no intention of imposing his opinion on anyone. Most of the ponies in the Soviet relaxed at the sound of his voice, and they didn’t even seem to need to absorb what he was saying – so captivating it sounded.

But there were those who did not succumb to Serov’s charm and charisma. For example, Wheatin, who sat half-turned towards the audience, looking at his comrade over his glasses with narrowed eyes; and a young thestral mare in a gray general’s uniform, who sat on the left edge of the presidium and was labeled “Mariya Norushkina.”

“…The collective farm system has shown its complete inefficiency,” Sinister went on to the main part of his speech, and whispers spread through the hall. “Agriculture and small craft production must be market-based. The rural laborers would like to be able to sell their products not only to the state, but also to each other. But any uncontrolled market system will inevitably descend into chaos without the vigilant control of the Party and the state. Moreover, I believe that we should increase our influence not only on domestic trade, but also on other spheres of life. Only direct control of all processes from Stalliongrad can make the overall work more efficient and responsible…”

He talked about the economy for some time, then went over the social programs, clearly pointing out that they were not enough to maintain a decent standard of living for all the ponies in the country. Finally, he came to the conclusion.

“…Internal security is also threatened. There was no telling what Altidiya and Dark Wing might do if given complete freedom!”

The gray stallion seemed to have changed: sharp, angular features emerged from beneath the mask of a soft and friendly pony. Wheatin had a frown on his face and was nervously rubbing the tip of his nose. Karamelka had recovered from her sweet tenderness and was adjusting her clothes a little embarrassed, probably ashamed of her former adoration.

“The machinations of our enemies must be stopped at the root! Only then can Stalliongrad become the hegemon of the continent! And I will do everything in my power to ensure that the revolution, backed by our universal strength, spreads further!” Serov slammed his hoof down on the table. His voice rose almost to a shout. “Together, through our common work and unity, we will make Severyana great again!”

His last words were again drowned out by the thunderous applause from the exalted ponies. Even some of the stallions looked at Sinister in some… special way.

This time, Karamelka didn’t wait for everypony to calm down, tapping the carafe with her spoon for at least half a minute before the deputies finally condescended to quiet down.

“Comrades, it is time to make a decision,” she announced. “Who is in favor of appointing Comrade Wheatin as the General Secretary?”

All around the hall, the hooves of the ponies began to rise.

“Hold it, please, don’t put it down, now I’ll count…” Karamelka ran her eyes along the rows, muttering numbers under her nose and helping herself with a pen in a hoof grip. “Seventy… seventy-four of the one hundred and fifty-two present, including the presidium, in favor. Hmm… Who is in favor of appointing Comrade Serov?”

Again the hooves were raised and the count was hastened.

“Sixty-nine,” Karamelka said in a steady tone, glancing at the record she was keeping.

Immediately, there was a whistle, and the ponies all cheered and clapped, either to welcome the newly elected General Secretary or to protest the outcome of the vote.

Trying to shout over the general clamor, Karamel asked loudly, “Who abstained?!” and was the first to raise her hoof.

After her, Masha Norushkina and Ratibor did the same, as well as three more ponies from the ultra-right and, separately from the others, Peter Romanov.

“Six! So, comrades…!” Karamelka called out – but hardly anypony heard her now. The smooth face of the red-haired pony contorted, and she shouted at the top of her lungs, “ORDER!!!”

Strangely enough, it worked, and the noise died down a bit.

“Please welcome our new General Secretary, Comrade Vasiliy Wheatin!”

The floor shook with applause, and the windows rattled with enthusiastic shouts.

Vasiliy himself was shaking hooves with the members of the presidium. The light pony with glasses smiled slightly, but his gaze remained cold.

He and Sinister looked at each other for the longest time, their hooves touching. Serov didn’t look upset; one could think he accepted the result with some relief that he wouldn’t be the one doing all the work. Or, more likely, he was just happy for his friend.

As the shaking continued, Sinister grinned and threw his foreleg over Vasiliy’s back, pulling him up and hugging him around the shoulders. Wheatin grimaced – but held on for a while before he dropped the other’s hoof from himself and stepped aside.

He narrowed his eyes and met Karamelka’s gaze. She grinned briefly and held out a hoof. After a moment’s hesitation, Vasiliy shook it, then turned away.

“The inauguration is tomorrow,” the mare’s voice reminded him. “Try to say… something nice. Your cries of world revolution make my ears ache. And don’t forget to state your position on the Crystal Pact. The Central Committee won’t understand if you ignore it.”

“I’ll say what I think. See you tomorrow,” Vasily muttered without turning around and followed the crowd of deputies to the exit of the hall.

“Reasoner…!” he heard a hiss at his back.

“Right-wing fanatic,” he replied coldly.

And went up the stairs – surrounded by the crowd, but all alone.

After all, Karamelka was a hero of the revolution, just like he was, and therefore had the right to be a bit of a jerk. And the fact that she was now one of the opposition leaders allowed him to ignore her.

He was the power now. And to make the necessary decisions, he could only steer majority opinion in the right direction.

Sinister was waiting for him in the parking lot at the entrance, leaning on the roof of the department car. When he saw Vasiliy coming down the stone steps, the dark gray stallion waved to his friend and stepped up to him.

“How about we go to the Metropol?” he suggested with a broad smile. “Let’s celebrate your appointment. At the same time, you’ll get everyone a drink…”

“No, thank you,” Vasiliy replied discreetly as he passed by. “I’d better go home and prepare for tomorrow’s speech.”

“Oh, come on, you can relax! Everything went exactly the way you wanted. I didn’t expect so many to vote for me. After all, you’re the one who’s Altie’s main opponent.”

“I’m just doing my job, following the party line. That’s all.”

Suddenly, Wheatin stopped and took a short-sighted look at the scenery on the other side of the wrought-iron bars of the fence.

The Old Square was only called that; it was actually a small street stretching from the Ginger Gate to the Vanilla Gate, lined with stone buildings left over from the days of the monarchy. On the odd side of the street there was a demonstration with red flags and banners for the election of a new General Secretary, while the even side was guarded by ponice to prevent mass gatherings in front of the House of the Supreme Soviet, where the Central Committee of the Party also met.

And against the backdrop of this striking contrast, a lonely red-brown figure of a pony was clearly visible, sitting on a bench near the gate. In any case, Vasiliy would not have mistaken her for anyone else.

“Wait, I’ll be right back,” Wheatin said, turning around a bit and heading for the gate guarded by two NKVD[3] soldiers.

After passing through the wide gate, he found himself on the street – and walked resolutely to the bench.

Altidiya sat with her eyes down. She seemed to be looking at the cobblestones that had been washed that morning, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. Her cap looked wrinkled, and she wore a dark green jacket over her shoulders: it was a chilly April this year in Severyana.

Vasiliy stood near the bench as if not to disturb her, but soon sighed and sat down next to her. He was silent for a while, looking nervously everywhere but at Altidiya.

“Why have you come?” he finally spoke.

“Do I need a reason?” The beige-red pony grinned unhappily. “What, I can’t pass by my old place of work anymore, the order of General Secretary Vasiliy Wheatin?”

“Don’t be silly, it doesn’t suit you,” Wheatin grumbled. “You knew I couldn’t pass you by. That means you have something to tell me. Something I don’t think I want to hear, but it wouldn’t be decent of me to avoid it. So spit it out.”

“Pantsushenko,” Altidiya turned to him, shaking her head, “you’ve become so paranoid lately. Are the enemies of the revolution giving you no rest, that you can’t even sleep at night?”

“Don’t call me that,” Vasiliy twitched his cheek. “The one you’re talking about is in the past – in the time when we stormed the Boyarskaya Duma together. When we were traveling companions at the beginning of the long road to communism. As it turned out, accidentally.”

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the ponicemen who had been standing along the street had moved a little and formed a kind of barrier around the bench. Now they were shielding the two ponies from the eyes of strangers and at the same time ensuring their safety.

“Well… you really have changed.” Altidiya turned away and lowered her gaze again. “Tell me, what kind of future do you have for us? What do you really want? Is it an isolated, impoverished country, a pariah in the international arena, but with the banner of ‘victorious’ socialism held high?” She clearly put all the sarcasm she could into those last words.

“Feels like I’m back in the party debates,” Wheatin sighed. “It’s not my fault that the Central Committee didn’t nominate you. If you hadn’t refused to resign voluntarily, all this would’ve been avoided. The opinion of the majority must be considered, otherwise the power of the Soviets will turn into the same dictatorship we fought against twelve years ago.”

“Are you hearing yourself…?”

Altidiya stopped suddenly, pressing her hoof to her heart. Leaning back on the bench, the beige-red pony convulsively gulped air through her clenched teeth.

“You… Are you… What’s wrong, Altie?” Wheatin became alarmed. “Are you ill? Maybe I call the doctor?”

“Already ‘Altie’…” she snorted suppressedly. “And that usually… I was always ‘Comrade Revoltsova’ for you… O-o-o-oh…” She squeezed her eyes shut as if in great pain. “In my left pocket… pills… give me…”

“Okay, now.”

With a quick but unhurried movement, Vasiliy reached into the pocket of her coat, took out a small white opaque jar – half filled with pills, judging by the sound – and put it into Altidiya’s hooves. She nodded gratefully, shook a few pills out of the jar, and tossed them into her mouth.

Vasiliy watched her with obvious concern. But soon the beige-red pony’s features smoothed and she exhaled with relief.

“Get up.” Wheatin got off the bench and looked at Altidiya. “Let’s go to the hospital. I’ll make the arrangements…”

“Re-e-eally?” she grinned sarcastically. “And half an hour ago from the rostrum you were almost ready to tear me apart, weren’t you? Don’t lie to yourself at least, Pantsushenko. You don’t give a shit about me as much as you do about the consequences of your actions.”

“When did it start?” the stallion asked and sat down beside her again. “Not in the last few weeks, am I right?

“About a year ago," Altidiya replied quietly, staring straight ahead. “We argued with you at the Central Committee about building the Palace of Soviets. When I got home, I felt a strange tingling in my chest and decided to get checked out at the departmental clinic. Secretly, of course… under the guise of an inspection. There I was prescribed pills, which I received on special order. Since then, there had been no serious worsening, and I thought I could stay at the helm for quite some time. Nopody knew of it… not even you. To everyone I remained the steadfast Comrade Revoltsova, who continued to toe her own line.”

A shadow ran across her face.

“But after you kicked me and Wing out of the Central Committee, along with a dozen other ponies from the Soviet, I got worse. Now the attacks are more frequent… and more violent. But the main thing, Vas…” She turned to Wheatin, and he clearly saw heartbreak and despair in her eyes. “I don’t know… how long I have left. Maybe I’ll live until the end of the war… or maybe it’ll be over tomorrow.”

“You need help. If you admit your mistakes… make some symbolic statement… I’ll order that you be reinstated, if not in your position, then at least in the Party. You’ll go to the Sovenok resort in the north, improve your health, and I promise you, you’ll live a long, happy old age.”

“Old age…” Altidiya sneered unhappily. “I’m forty-three, only four years older than you, Vasya. But I’ve seen a bit more than you. I was a General Secretary… and now I’m just a simple citizen with a minimum pension, without party benefits, just because of my length of service. Tell me,” she looked at him, “do you know what bananas are?”

“Er… what’s that got to do with it?” Wheatin frowned, obviously confused.

“Do you know or not?”

“Well… I know. But… what you…”

“How? Have you seen pictures? Because I ate them when I was in Crystal City. Ripe, sweet… They’re grown on the Summer Isles and in Puerto Caballo, the ‘banana’ republic on the side of Equestria, and then shipped by sea to the mainland. But there are no bananas in our country. Not yet anyway, because Equestria has just recently lifted sanctions. And with you at the helm… there probably won’t ever be any.”

“Bananas today and back under the Princess’ wing tomorrow,” Vasiliy muttered. “I won’t allow us to be manipulated by leverage like food… or cheap Equestrian propaganda. Caramel Marks’ ideas remain the foundation upon which I’ll build my ponitics. The revolution still lives in my heart.”

“You still haven’t understood anything,” Altidiya sighed and turned away. “You’re blinded by the power, the influence you had in the Party – and now you have it in full. The same power that blinded me. My revolution was over in ‘96. And yours makes no sense anymore.”

“Then I can’t help you,” Wheatin shook his head. “From now on, each of us is on his own.”

“Doesn’t what we’ve been through together mean anything to you? We both fought for our country and won… What’s different now?”

“That we have a different understanding of its independence.”

Vasiliy was silent for a moment, then spoke again. “Your eyes…” Altidiya looked at him in surprise. “Red and blue – like two suns from the star system in Studislav Lime’s book… And you, like a planet orbiting around them, are just as much a mystery.”

“Vas… Do you really think I betrayed my party and my country by going to the Crystal Empire?”

Wheatin hesitated. He took a handkerchief from his vest pocket and wiped his glasses. Then he turned his head and let out a single word, “Yes.”

“Go away, Pantsushenko,” Altidiya said quietly. “You can’t help anyone now. Not me, not the Party… not all of Severyana. And I even more.”

“I’m sorry to part like this,” Vasiliy replied, getting up from the bench. “We are really too different.”

“Indeed,” the beige-red pony whispered, looking after him.

Wheatin walked along the fence, then back through the gate. Passing Sinister, who had already opened his mouth, to the waiting black Lorga, he said, “I’m going home to prepare for tomorrow. And you can rest. Have a good time,” and got into the car which started up right away.

Sinister watched a shiny black car with the license plate A111AA leave the parking lot. Then he shook his head and got into the car himself, nodding briefly to the driver.

“To the Metropole. And hurry up.”

A pale, diffuse light streamed in through the windows of the apartment. The morning was cloudy; outside, shouts of joy and the clatter of hundreds of hooves could be heard as demonstrations in support of the new General Secretary were taking place all over Stalliongrad.

The apartment itself looked like an island of peace and comfort, a place to which it was so pleasant to escape after a hard day’s work. Reproductions of paintings, a carpet on one of the walls, wallpaper with flowers and stars – almost nothing here reminded that the former party leader lived here.

Altidiya, changed from her uniform to a simple house robe, sat on the sofa in the living room and listened to the radio. On the nightstand beside her was an unread book, set aside in the middle, a glass of water and a jar of pills, and next to the radio on the dresser was a telephone gleaming with black ebonite.

The former General Secretary was staring into the void, her eyes fixed somewhere beyond the antenna of the radio receiver. The brand-new Elektronika-8 echoed with the sound of someone’s speech, slightly interspersed with the crackle of interference, but its sounds, like the noise of the demonstration, were of no interest to Altidiya at the moment. The beige-red pony seemed to shut herself away, lost in the gloomy thoughts that had haunted her since she had lost everything.

But little by little, her ears picked up more and more phrases from the audio signal that tugged at her mind. And soon Altidiya found herself listening intently to Wheatin’s inauguration speech.

Partly because he was talking about her now.

“…thanks in large part to our unity and solidarity,” the new General Secretary spoke excitedly. “But after the case of Comrade Revoltsova, who gave in to personal ambition instead of respecting the opinion of the majority, we can no longer rely on her course of rapprochement with capitalist Equestria, disguised by propaganda about improving the standard of living! The most valuable thing is always what you produce with your own hooves, not what you receive as a hoof-out from those who want to destroy us! Therefore, I call upon everyone…”

Tears welled in Altidiya’s eyes, and her breathing became labored and intermittent.

The mare could hardly hold back the tears. How many… years had passed since she had last cried? Probably five – that was when Comrade Stallion had just died. And until today, she, Altidiya, the second General Secretary in the history of Severyana, had always tried to appear self-confident and unbending.

Unfortunately, now the mask was broken.

And with a reason! She had been betrayed – stabbed in the back, thrown off her pedestal, wiped out with hooves! And by whom – the former comrade-in-arms of the revolution, who turned out to be a clever schemer and manipulator! He turned against her the entire Central Committee, the entire Party, from which even the whole liberal wing was razed to the ground, and now he is ruining all her hard-won heritage!

In the old days, such thoughts would have aroused in the beige-red pony anger and the desire to fight back, to show not only the offender but also all the others that there is still life in the old dog…!

But now they were only devastation and weakness.

She understood that now. Without the support of others, nopony can stay where they are. And if you don’t have that support, you’re bound to fall. Or not – a stool would fall from under your hooves, while your neck would be in a rope.

“…But we must not forget the threat of the murderous, terrorist Lunazi regime, led by Nightmare Moon, approaching from the south,” Wheatin continued. “We are still relatively safe because the so-called Lunar Republic (the actual Lunar Reich, to use a word from the Griffon language) cannot fight a two-front war right now! Our soldiers guard the border and are ready for any turn of events, but it is not enough to sleep well. We have no need to go to war ourselves, so we will not yet denounce the Crystal Pact concluded by Comrade Revoltsova – but we will fulfill it exactly to the extent that it corresponds to the interests of Stalliongrad. Furthermore, to avoid the humiliation experienced by the delegation from Severyana at the signing ceremony, I ask the Central Committee to consider creating a new national anthem…”

Altidiya couldn’t hold back any longer. Tears dripped from her eyes, leaving gray stains on the white fabric of her robe.

The former General Secretary mourned for the Severyana she wanted but couldn’t build. She mourned Equestria, now fighting a war for survival. And the hope for peace that Vasiliy had effectively snatched away from millions of ponies.

Suddenly, it was as if a lake of lava had poured into her chest. The pain was so intense and sharp that Altidiya gasped and coughed, her eyes bulging.

Everything blurred before her eyes; the mare could no longer see where she was or what was around her. Her trembling hoof reached for the nightstand, but her body tipped sideways, and the jar fell to the floor, along with the glass and book. The pills scattered on the carpet with a light, almost inaudible thud.

Telephone… came an indistinct thought, as if shrouded in a thick gray fog. I must… call…

With the last of her strength, Altidiya crawled to the dresser against the far wall. Half a room, a mere two meters away… But even that distance seemed longer than it was to Storm King’s domain in southern Zebrica.

To raise a hoof, to pull herself up... The pain in her chest grew, becoming unbearable. The fire inside her was burning stronger, scorching away any hope and strength to fight.

Finally, she got to the dresser. Unable to stand and reach the telephone, Altidiya yanked at the wire, and the device fell to the floor with a thud. Her legs stiffened, and with great effort the beige-red pony managed to pick up the receiver and put it to her ear.

The long beeps rose and fell, making Altidiya dizzy, even though she felt almost nothing compared to the pain in her chest.

Reach for the disk, turn it…

Zero. The first digit of a number known to every foal in Stalliongrad.

The disk spun back up with a grinding sound. All that was left was to turn it once more. Just one more time…!

But even this was too much for Altidiya.

With a tremendous effort of will, she overpowered herself and pressed the tip of her hoof against the slot, moving her leg sideways. Her vision cleared for a moment, and she could see the brass disk slowly turning to a stop under her pressure.

Three… The number of the emergency service she was about to call.

As soon as the number was dialed, her hoof jerked away, and she fell helplessly to the floor. Altidiya lay on her belly, her head twisted. The nearby receiver was pressed against her ear.

“Ambulance! Give me a name and address!” came the ringing voice of the operator mare. “Hello! Speak louder, I can’t hear you…!”

“Agh… ah…”

Altidiya tried to say something, but all she could get out of her throat was a series of choked gasps.

She ran out of air. The pain in her chest shot a blindingly bright pulse one last time…

And then everything faded.

The receiver kept saying something, but there was no one else to hear the worried words.

Altidiya Revoltsova, former General Secretary of the S.C.P. and now an ordinary pony, lay motionless on the floor. Her eyes were open, frozen in unbearable agony, staring into space like two dead stars.

The wind came in through the window, ruffling the curtains. It blew through the pages of a book that had fallen from the nightstand, and a ray of sunlight peeking out from behind the clouds highlighted a sentence on one of them: “…Yes, a pony is mortal, but that would be only half the trouble. The worst of it is that he’s sometimes unexpectedly mortal.”

A trail of saliva dripped onto the carpet. The previously agonized muscles relaxed. The beige-red pony’s face was frozen with a mute question that would never be answered.

And there it was, on the carpet in the middle of a cozy and bright room, all alone, with a broken heart, betrayed and mercilessly hunted, Altidiya, the pony who had managed to become the leader of a young nation, ended in infinite disaster her glorious and exciting career. Altidiya, the gifted leader whose love for her country the world has never seen.

The sound of engines rumbled through the air. In a large clearing near the river were many army trucks and even a few tanks, with ponies in gray-green uniforms scurrying among them. The doors and sides of the vehicles bore the markings of the Lunar Republic – purple outlines of wings and a long horn pointing upward.

The sunlight gently caressed the yellow-green grass; spring had come to this part of the former Equestria. The wind swayed the awnings on the bodies of the trucks, but there was a distinct uneasiness in its soft whistling.

A slanted sign with three arrows on a dirt road not far away announced:

Hoof City → 15 miles
55 miles ← Dodge City
127 miles ← Hoofington.

And judging by the direction the headlights of the vehicles and the barrels of the tanks were pointing, this whole army was clearly not on the way to the closer location.

A beige pegasus in a well-fitting tunic with insignia shining in the spring sun jumped out of the truck in front of the huge column. He wore gray epaulets with two silver four-ray stars on his shoulders, double officer patches on his collar, and chevrons with three stripes and a comet on his sleeves. His left wing, which was out through a slit in his tunic, looked broken and could hardly lift him into the air. But the pegasus seemed oblivious to this – or had accepted it. A look of anticipation and confidence could be seen on his face.

Stratospheres Dropper, now the hauptmann of the Equermacht, called one of the soldiers over, and soon shouts of “Line up!” filled the clearing.

After a while, straight lines formed along the side of the cluster of vehicles.

Dropper stepped forward and spoke.

“Attention, everypony! Today we’re honored to carry out the most daring, unexpected, and lightning-fast operation in recent military history! In just four hours, we’ll cover the required distance and forever write our names in golden letters in military textbooks!”

The pegasus began to walk in front of the silently listening formation.

“The operation will be called ‘Lunar Defender.’ We’ll drive along the road to Dodge City almost to the line of contact with the Southern States, but just before it we’ll turn into the woods and break through the defenses of the South at its weakest point – between the deployment areas of their divisions. Then we’ll head south at top speed toward Hoofington.”

He paused and looked over the ranks of the soldiers. “But our main objective lies a li’l further afield. And it’s one that none of you have ever dreamed of.”

Dropper grinned, watching the lively reaction to his words, and announced, “Our task is to seize the Hoofington Space Center, which has been transferred by Immortal Horsecoacher Luna’s Decree No. 7 of Frimaire second to the ownership of the New Lunar Republic! The Confederation of Southern States doesn’t know what to do with it – so we’re gonna take it for ourselves! Intel says there are no serious military defenses there, and any retreat from the border will mean further advance for the Lunar Army! We simply cannot fail! They have no tanks, no aviation, and all their forces are spent holding back the Buffalo, who’ve taken over half of their territory! They even have only two machine guns, and those are with their self-appointed president and sheriff in Appleloosa!” A chuckle went through the ranks at these words. “We’ll crush them and create an NLR island near Hoofington that we can successfully defend, and then the Equermacht will make a permanent corridor there! We’ll do what nopony has ever done before! Glory to the Republic! Praise the Moon!”

He made a moonlight, and everyone threw a hoof up after him.

“To the cars,” Dropper ordered hoarsely. “Let’s go right now. Weapons ready. Disperse!”

Without looking at the ponies rushing to the vehicles, the pegasus strode back to the truck.

He climbed into the cab on the driver’s side, slammed the door shut. Anyone else in his place would have puffed on a cigarette, but Dropper didn’t smoke. He still didn’t, even though he knew he would never fly again.

And only the alicorns knew what he was thinking as he stared out at the road disappearing into the horizon.

The truck’s engine roared and the car started. All the others followed.

The Lunar Army’s assault on Hoofington was underway.

And not a single pony, no matter how powerful a wizard he or she might be, could imagine where this adventure would eventually lead.

Cynosura awoke to a persistent knocking at the cabin door.

“What the hay happened out there…?” the mare muttered, wiping her sleepy eyes.

She rolled over onto her belly and glanced at the alarm clock with the fluorescent hands screwed to the bedside table.

Four in the morning. Outside, dawn was probably just beginning to break. That meant something serious had happened.

Slumber slipped away in an instant. Putting on her shirt, Cynosura waddled on three legs to the exit, pulled the latch and opened the door.

On the threshold stood Ensign Sea Spirit.

“Ma’am,” he greeted the white, blue-haired pony. “The watch pony has just spotted smoke on the horizon. Course three hundred and thirty, range thirty cables!”

The bulky stallion breathed heavily and spoke excitedly and quickly. At the same time, he rolled his eyes to the side, trying not to look at the half-dressed mare.

Cynosura grinned to herself, but then sighed.

“I’ll be right there. Just give me a minute.”

Then she disappeared back into her quarters, leaving the fat guy fretting in the corridor.

After a while, she was standing on the captain’s bridge. Sea Spirit had helped her walk most of the way, which made Cynosura feel a little uncomfortable.

Now she was looking through the binoculars at a group of smoke jets approaching from the northwest. They were barely visible in the pale gray morning haze – but the rear admiral knew this sight well and could not be fooled.

Cobalt and the captain stood beside her, along with the first mate. All were silent, staring glumly at the horizon, and each of them knew what it meant.

The Lunar Fleet had come for their souls.

The Sun Princess was anchored near the island where her squadron had fought the two Chiropterran ships, in the same rocky cove where the frigate and the troop carrier full of thestrals had emerged. The rest of Cynosura’s ships huddled in the strait between this islet and the neighboring one to the west, which was considerably larger and forested – but also uninhabited. The fact that the Dragons had agreed to their permanent presence in the territorial waters played into the hands of the Equestrian sailors: in anticipation of the enemy, almost the entire fleet of the Spa Islands had gathered here to offer a decent resistance in case of an emergency.

And now, it seemed, the time had come.

But no one was happy. Although the Lunar Republic could not send all of its ships across half an ocean, they were still outnumbered, judging by the number of smokes. Therefore, tactics and strategy were needed to counterbalance them.

The prisoners, by the way, were sent to one of the bases in Equestria’s archipelago. There, they were put to hard labor and guarded to make sure they didn’t try anything. Doctors tended to the severely injured, and those who could fly had their wings chained. Cynosura personally told the Chiropterrans that they would be shot for the slightest disobedience, and it seemed to have an effect. Even the insolent Alastor had been quieter than a mouse when he and the others were shackled in iron.

So far, at least, there had been no news of riots or discontent.

The unicorns left on the island had been neutralized. They were hunted down and driven into one of the caves, then told to surrender. In response, one of them blew up a rock with his magic, the second apparently covered them all with a shield, and the third teleported them outside. Together they tried to fly away using self-levitation, but the pegasi pursued them. Finally, the brave Chiropterran soldiers blew themselves up with their remaining grenades and fell into the sea, from which the marines could only retrieve their mangled bodies.

But what caught Cynosura’s attention were the amulets implanted in the unicorns’ chests, apparently used as storage devices. The mages from the technical service said that the crystals in such talismans could store a very large charge, so the “saboteurs” had to pour their reserves into them almost constantly, which made them feel unwell. Again, drugs were useful here as well.

So, there were no more problems on the island itself.

Unlike the sea, where enemy ships were getting closer every second.

“Follow plan A,” ordered the rear admiral, removing the binoculars from her eyes. “Move out and surround them from the north, driving them to the shore. And then as far as we have enough shells.”

The mate went down to the wheelhouse, and the next minute the cruiser came out of the bay and, picking up speed, raced northward. The other ships moved out of the strait and followed the Sun Princess.

Traversing the enemy fleet, Cynosura was able to get a better look at the composition of the forces arrayed against them. And what she saw, she didn’t like at all.

If her eyes and binoculars were to be believed, there were twenty-six ships against her twenty. But what ships! There were one or two more frigates, destroyers, corvettes, and gunboats than Cynosura had in each of those classes. In a direct fire duel, her gunners would have a hard time.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The light ships of the Lunar Navy were accompanied by two that the mare would prefer not to encounter. One of them was a cruiser of the same class as the Sun Princess but painted dark blue instead of white. However, as far as Cynosura could remember from the day she and Admiral Hoover had led the ships out of Baltimare, this cruiser was the only one that had sworn allegiance to Nightmare Moon. Still, it was not a pleasant thing to confront in battle.

And the cruiser was followed by a battleship.

Cynosura shuddered at the sight of that dark, frightening mass. This huge thing was one and a half times larger than her flagship, and the main caliber of its guns was 234 millimeters compared to her 152. The mare had seen such a gun fired at one of the ships leaving the NLR: a single hit had been enough to crumple the destroyer and send it crashing to the bottom in flames. It would take no more than two salvos on her cruiser – though that was no consolation, of course.

Before the war, there had been two battleships in Equestria, both named after the Princesses. And the Celestia was the flagship of the formation that left for the breakaway Vanhoover last fall. But the Luna, rumored to have been renamed the Night Child, remained in the Republic. And now, with the crescent moon at its sides, it was surrounded by smaller ships, heading straight for Cynosura’s flotilla.

A shiver ran down the back of the blue-haired pony. She bit her lip, looking down at the cold, leaden waves.

Those words I said in front of the prisoner, that we would destroy Luna’s fleet, were just bravado, Cynosura thought. I just had to keep my dignity in front of him since I couldn’t stand properly. And even now… oops…

She staggered, and Cobalt came over to gently pick her up.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Rear Admiral?” he asked worriedly. “Maybe you’d like to come down to the wheelhouse?”

“No,” Cynosura shook her head and stepped back, placing her front hoof on the bulwark. “I need to see what’s going on.” And without turning around, she ordered, “Hold formation! Stay on course for five more cables, then turn around! Guns to battle!”

The ship went into the excitement that usually precedes a battle. The ponies ran to and fro, carrying weapons from the deck pyramids or crates of shells. But there was no fuss in the general commotion – the crew moved like a single, finely tuned mechanism that simply couldn’t misfire now.

Cynosura wasn’t sure if the plan would work. She hadn’t expected the enemy forces to be so numerous. Theoretically, she could lure some of the armada to the islet where they had encountered the Chiropterrans back then: she had ordered several light cannons to be set up on the rocks. But then they would be pinned to the shore and shot down, as if she had placed all her ships on the outermost lines at the bottom in the foal game of Battleship.

And not even the entire fleet would be enough: while the frigates, destroyers, and cruisers bombarded the Sun Princess, the battleship would turn to the Mountain and aim its cannons at the main island.

After all, the Dragons had no naval forces of their own. Princess Amber turned the national focus to ponitical and industrial development, with the primary goal of making the Dragonlands an economically independent state. In part, she invested in the military as well. And only recently, after the incident with the Chiropterrans, had the blue dragoness of the Torch Dynasty begun to take the first steps toward building a navy. And now she was getting into trouble with it.

So the only thing left to do was to follow the strategy chosen before the battle. And pray that the plan would work.

But whoever was commanding the enemy fleet, this pony also saw what Cynosura wanted to achieve. And so the dark blue ships, which had been moving in a single formation, split up, clearly intending to surround the Equestrian fleet from both sides and drive it into a death trap.

And worst of all, there was no way to avoid it.

“Plan B!” ordered the mare. “Spread out! Full ahead! Tie them up with artillery!”

The formation broke up immediately. Frigates, corvettes, and destroyers scattered in all directions like similarly charged magnets, imperceptibly finding themselves amidst the enemy armada.

The guns rumbled: at full speed, Cynosura’s ships tried to distract the Coltsmarine gunners, divert their attention, then turn and strike again.

The Sun Princess slipped so close to the enemy cruiser that the rear admiral could read the name inscribed aboard in ancient script in blinding white paint: ECLIPSE.

Well, let’s see if their Moon can cover our Sun, Cynosura hummed to herself.

The enemy didn’t seem to expect such a maneuver, so they could only fire into the void, trying in vain to keep up with the nimble Equestrians. Even the battleship fought back with a few shots, but its huge nine-inch shells also fell into the water, not even close to hitting the shore or the flotilla.

“Turn around!” Cynosura shouted as her ships sliced through the enemy formation, coming at the Coltsmarine from the rear. “Torpedo tubes to battle!”

Another trick that had to be used. The main thing now was not to get hit the same way.

“All ahead two-thirds!”

After turning around, the Equestrian ships rushed past the enemy crafts again, this time catching up. But now Cynosura’s fleet wasn’t moving as fast as before. And that played into their hooves again.

The enemy torpedoes, fired too early, almost all missed, only blowing up one gunboat and damaging the bow of one destroyer. But the Equestrians’ salvo hit its target, causing more explosions and almost equalizing the forces.

Except for the battleship.

The Night Child opened fire again with artillery. The torpedoed destroyer suddenly exploded into a ball of flame and black smoke – and fell out of formation, sinking right before Cynosura’s eyes. Just like during the battle at Baltimare.

The mare gritted her teeth, drilling the dark blue giant with an unfriendly look.

If this keeps up, they’ll wipe us out one by one.

“Full ahead! Try to surround them again!”

But watching the unfolding image of the sea battle, Cynosura realized more and more that her next plan wasn’t destined to come to fruition.

The Lunar ships formed an impassable wall for the Equestrians trying to break through, tying them up in close combat. The two fleets were split into pairs or threes of ships skirmishing with each other, and if the battle had been truly even, it would have been decided by ammunition reserves, landing force activity, or successful maneuvers.

But the enemy had a battleship that was no match in this battle.

Now what the rear admiral had feared was happening. The huge machine separated from the main group and, approaching the shore, fired a main-caliber salvo at the Mountain where the capital of the dragon state was located. Columns of dust and smoke billowed over the central island. In the sky, the shapes of dragons, looking like small dots, could be seen darting back and forth.

Cynosura sighed and bowed her head. Her breath whistled through her clenched teeth, and her heart ached with bitter regret.

I’ve lost. I let them all down. I risked our lives, hoping to win. But the enemy not only evened the stakes, they raised them many times over – while we had nothing else left.

Suddenly, the mare lifted her chin again. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the Night Child. The huge ship seemed to be preparing to attack the defenseless dragons once more.

But we don’t need anything else. Everything for victory is within us. And first and foremost, it is our lives. We are alive – so we can still fight. And we are ready to sacrifice everything for peace and justice. And that’s our main trump card, which they don’t have.

Cynosura grinned. After all, if you don’t risk, you don’t drink eighty-proof cider.

“Rear Admiral!” someone’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.

Cobalt turned. Sea Spirit ran up to her and Cobalt and hoofed Cynosura a sheet of text.

“There’s a radio message from the battleship. Will we send a reply?”

“Surrender, traitors of the pony race. You cannot win,” Cynosura read and shook her head. “Well, it’s not us who are the traitors here. We just disagree with what they’re going to do for us.”

She turned, trying not to fall on her weakened hind leg, and looked into Sea Spirit’s eyes. The stallion in the black pea jacket flinched at the determination in that look.

“Tell them,” Cynosura said, “that Equestria will not surrender. And one more thing… All ships!” she shouted. “Keep them away from the shore! Call fire on yourselves, do whatever it takes, but we must leave their battleship uncovered! Take them to the next island, where the shore guns will work on them! And we –” she looked out to sea where the Eclipse was closing in on the Sun Princess, “– will hoofle this here.”

The ensign looked stunned by the pressure of a mare almost half his size, but he pulled himself together immediately. “Yes, ma’am!” He saluted and ran back to the radio room.

“Rear Admiral,” Cobalt addressed the blue-haired pony, “are you sure? Is this really necessary?”

“Dunno, Major,” Cynosura sighed and looked up at him. “Do you have any other options?”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, then Cobalt looked away and muttered, “No, I don’t. Sorry, Rear Admiral.”

“At ease, Major. In the face of death, we are all equal. You should know that.”

Cobalt didn’t answer. He just gritted his teeth and stared at the approaching hulk of the strange cruiser.

Cynosura stretched out her leg in the direction of the enemy ship and, taking in a full lung of air, screamed with all her might, “FIRE!!!”

And then all hell broke loose.

Her ears were deafened by the guns’ roar. Shells fell into the water ahead and behind the ships, and soon it seemed the hit count would remain zero. But then another arc of smoke crossed the air, and a bright red fountain of flame erupted from the bow of the Eclipse. The sailors greeted the shot with joyous shouts.

“Don’t let up!” Cynosura ordered. “Keep firing! Torpedoes ready!”

Breathing heavily and clutching the superstructure railing with her hooves, the mare watched the cruiser that seemed a dark reflection of her flagship.

We must sink it. Just must! Otherwise… She gritted her teeth. No! I can’t think about that! We shall definitely win…!

But then the enemy ship slowed sharply and began to disappear in the morning mist somewhere behind the Sun Princess.

“Slow ahead!” Cynosura yelled. “Left ninety! Abort launch!”

“Too late,” Cobalt said quietly. “They’ve already fired.”

The mare stopped and, eyes wide, watched with the rest of the crew as several trails of foaming water crossed the ocean and disappeared at the horizon.

No… it can’t be…!

A flashing hunch made Cynosura flinch as if from an electric shock. Slowly, with a chilling horror in her eyes, she turned her head towards the dark silhouette…

…which had already turned its port side towards the white ship that had passed by.

The impact was so powerful that all the ponies were thrown to the deck. Cynosura groaned at the sharp pain that pierced her back near her left hip.

We can’t… lose… like this…

Cobalt grabbed her sleeve and lifted her to her hooves. Standing on the captain’s bridge, swaying with the rest of the ship, she turned her gaze to the stern. And went cold.

Black smoke billowed from the back of the cruiser. And the Princess herself was slowly but surely sinking into the water.

This is the end, Cynosura thought doomedly. The best thing for us to do is to evacuate. But the lifeboats will probably all be sunk, so it’s unlikely that anyone will really escape. In the meantime, the mare looked hatefully at the enemy battleship and cruiser, they’ll blow the main island to Discord. Depriving the dragons we swore to protect not only of their land, but of their future.

“Damage report!” she exhaled. “Any casualties?”

The captain had just finished listening to the nervously shaking sailor who had run up to him and approached Cynosura. And now he looked as black as thunder.

“The engine is damaged,” he reported. –“One of the fuel tanks is punctured as well. Two of the mechanics are injured, nopony is dead. But we’ll only be able to keep moving for a short time. And not very fast. There is a hole in the hold and water is coming in. We’ll try to pump it out, but it won’t do us any good.”

He gave Cynosura a glance under his brows, and the mare realized that they were thinking the same thing.

“We must either flee… or stay here and fight until our last breath. I can certainly take charge and give the necessary orders… but it would be better if you did it.” He looked into Cynosura’s eyes. “What is your choice, Rear Admiral?”

The blue-haired pony looked back at him in silence. And damn it, they both knew exactly what she was going to say.

Turning around, Cynosura saw many ponies crowded on the upper deck. Sailors and petty officers, ensigns and lieutenants, mechanics and marines. All were waiting for her decision.

With Cobalt’s help, she walked over to the railing of the captain’s bridge and looked around at the ponies gathered below. Some of them had a rifle in the air or clutched it in their hooves, others had a wrench or something else. But they all looked at her right now, trusting her unconditionally, ready to follow her into Tartarus if she commanded. For her…

No. Not for me. But for our country.

“Listen up, everypony!” Cynosura spoke, and her voice, with no megaphone, echoed across the deck, overpowering the sound of the wind and the distant roar of the cannons. “We got into a difficult situation. The enemy outnumbered us, and despite our best efforts, we were unable to turn the tide of battle. We managed to drive some of the enemy ships back to the neighboring island, where they were met by artillery fire. But so far, we have no news of our ships there. We’re alone against these giant monsters – you’ve seen them yourselves. We have two choices: either a shameful surrender and retreat, or a desperate counterattack and a ghostly chance of salvation…”

Her words were drowned out by the thunder of the battleship’s cannons as they struck again at the defenseless island.

Waiting for the rumble of crumbling rock to subside, she continued.

“We are strangers in these waters. But the dragons have accepted our help and support. And we can’t just let a bunch of freaks who think they're the masters of the world turn an entire country into ashes! What’s more, their ground and air forces have been slaughtering Equestrian civilians for months! This is the same enemy we fought to get out of Baltimare before it even separated from the lands Nightmare Moon captured! And that is why” – she cracked her hoof on the railing – “we will do battle now! For Equestria!”

“FOR EQUESTRIA!!!” roared the crowd, breaking into stomping, shouting, and whistling.

Cynosura stood over the many excited ponies - and felt their energy fill her with confidence again.

I am responsible for them. But all of us together are also responsible for peace and order in this corner of the vast world. I can finally serve my country – by destroying its enemies.

“Places, everypony!” she ordered. “Get ready!” And, turning around, somewhere in space, “Set course for the Eclipse!”

“I think you’ve gone a little overboard,” Cobalt said, glancing at Cynosura as she tried to catch her breath after her speech. “What’s the use of such pathos? We just do our duty, that’s all. We obey your orders, whatever they may be. So what more do you want?”

“Do you think I’m a bad commander?” the mare asked, adjusting her cap on her head.

“No,” the major shook his head. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in your position. I just hope you know what we are willing to give our lives for. We do, and each of us has his own answer. The important thing is that you realize your responsibility too.”

“I do, Cobalt. Believe it or not, my heart aches for each of you, for each soldier, alive or dead, for each ship, safe or sunk. I also tell myself that I must be strong. And I try to follow that principle.”

The marine didn’t answer. He nodded silently and turned away.

Cynosura looked at Sea Spirit, who was fidgeting nearby.

“Something urgent? Any news of our own?”

“Affirmative, Rear Admiral.” The ensign stepped closer and reported with a hoof to his temple, “The goal of pushing back the enemy has been achieved. The ships were driven to the neighboring island, where they were fired upon by artillery. During the salvos, one destroyer, one corvette, and three boats were eliminated. The rest engaged our surface forces. Currently, about half of the enemy ships have been sunk…” He hung his head a bit and even lowered his suddenly trembling leg. “And… our losses are generally the same. Ma’am… it’s just a massacre. Nopony has a chance to survive.”

“And do we?” Cynosura parried. “The cruiser is sinking, and all we can do is fire at them until the last shell, the last torpedo… Or until their next salvo finally kills us. All we can do is sell our lives for more. If you don’t want to, get in a lifeboat and sail to shore. Maybe you’ll make it. I won’t blame you.”

“No, ma’am,” the ensign shook his head. “I didn’t study to be a sailor so I could run away like a rat. I’ll accept whatever my fate is… if that’s Celestia’s will.”

Cynosura stepped up to him and placed a hoof on his chest.

“Thank you. I hope someone will remember us as heroes. Or at least not laugh at us… or curse us for the wasted flotilla.”

Sea Spirit even picked himself up a bit, as much as he could with his massive build.

“I hope so too, ma’am. But know what? What do we care what anyone else says? What matters is that we know what we’re fighting for.”

“Right,” the mare grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Go on, Ensign. You have proven your loyalty today.”

“Long live Equestria.”

The stallion saluted again, turned, and started down the stairs to the lower deck.

Soon, the ship slowly, as if reluctantly, changed course and glided across the water toward the Eclipse. The enemy cruiser had joined the battleship, also plowing the island’s rocky hill with its shells.

“Hey, look…” was all of a sudden heard.

Cynosura, like the others, raised her head.

Above the dark blue hulk, the smaller one, a familiar living cloud was rising into the air.

But it wasn’t as numerous as it had been during the fight with the Chiropterran dropship. Apparently, the Coltsmarine had learned a lesson from that story… but not completely.

“Ready!” the captain ordered, and finally Cynosura realized that there were other commanders besides herself.

She pulled her pistol from its holster with her teeth and accompanied Cobalt down to the lower deck, where they took cover in the wheelhouse. The captain and the first mate followed, also drawing their weapons just in case.

Through the restored panoramic window, they could see a swarm of pegasi and thestrals swirling overhead, literally enveloping the ship. For a while, they circled in the air at a fairly high altitude, as if trying on something – and then something began to fall from their moving, fluid cloud.

Except it wasn’t individual fighters launching a suicidal attack. It was something quite different.

The first explosion went off on the lower deck, scattering the sailors like skittles. The wheelhouse windows rattled, and the forward one was covered with a scattering of cracks from the steel shards that scratched it.

Then explosions began to ring out all around.

“Grenades!” muttered the captain angrily. He jumped to the dashboard and yelled into the loudspeaker, “All fire on the enemy! No bullets to spare! Shoot down as many of these winged bastards as possible!”

But everyone knew this already. As soon as the first wave of explosions died down, rifles crackled here and there. It was not easy to hit a moving, twisting target at such an altitude, but the density of the enemy fighters played against them this time.

One by one, the downed winged ponies began to fall to the ship’s deck or into the sea. This seemed to sober the others: after dropping a dozen more grenades, the Lunar Fleet landing party began to make their way back to the cruiser.

Meanwhile, the Sun Princess herself approached the Eclipse within striking distance, rounding the enemy ship from the opposite shore.

“Survivors to the artillery!” ordered the captain. “Fire from all barrels! Come on!”

The guns rumbled again. And apparently the enemy did not expect such a desperate resistance: the side of the Eclipse was lit up by a dozen flashes, and it became clearly visible that the cruiser was on fire.

But the Equestrians weren’t the only accurate shooters.

A powerful blow shook the wheelhouse, and everyone fell to the floor. The mare’s ears were ringing from the tremendous rumble, and the floor was littered with shards of broken windows.

Rising, Cynosura looked up and saw burning debris falling to the deck ahead.

“The bridge is gone,” the captain gasped as he also stood up and leaned against the dashboard. “The upper deck is probably gone as well… Sons of bitches… I wish they’d shot at Manehattan like that…”

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

Exactly in response to his words, the battleship fired at the shore again.

“If we’re lucky, ships from our northern bases will be doing this in a month or two,” Cynosura said, catching the stallion’s surprised look. “Well, forget it. So, what’s next? Should we fire another volley at them?”

“It won’t work,” the captain shook his head. “We’ve used up almost all our ammo. We won’t even have anything to blow up if they decide to capture us.”

“They don’t want us alive,” Cynosura snorted. “So we’re more likely to be killed by a battleship.” She became serious, “And together with the Eclipse, they’ll start slaughtering dragons…”

“Yeah, that’s a problem…” the captain said, looked at the helmspony, who was cautiously listening to their conversation, and ordered, “Turn around… while we can still move.”

The Princess, having already passed the almost stopped Eclipse, began to turn back.

Everyone in the room was silent. It was as if the battle had paused, and the uncertainty was the most painful of all. The only thing that mattered was how soon – and how exactly – they would die.

But as the ship began to reverse course, something in the mist caught Cynosura’s eye. A bright spot, almost blending in color with the sky, drifted out of the pale haze somewhere to the left.

“What the hay is that?” frowning, the captain muttered and raised the spyglass to his eye. A moment later he exclaimed in amazement, “Corvette… our corvette! I think it’s the Daredevil… Were they able to come to our aid after all?!”

“Yes, Captain,” Cynosura replied in a colorless tone, and the stallion in the white uniform turned to her. “But their help would cost them everything. Including lives.”

“Wait…” He looked through the spyglass again. “What are they up to? What kind of a gamble is this?! They’re–”

“It’s called heroism, Captain. They’re going to die so we can keep fighting.”

And indeed… Small compared to cruisers, and even smaller compared to the battleship, the corvette charged forward at full speed – straight at the Eclipse, which was burning in many places but still afloat.

The enemy cruiser opened fire. Clouds of smoke and flames rose all over the corvette, but the Daredevil was still moving forward. And she seemed to be accelerating.

The cloud of ponies rose above the ship again, but this time not to give the Equestrians a bloodbath. The winged warriors were fleeing the burning cruiser that was about to go down. And they didn’t seem to care about the unicorns and earth ponies left behind.

Desperate fire was opened on the corvette. Explosions tore through her sides one after another, destroying the deck and superstructures, burning and shredding the crew, but the Daredevil kept going. The inertia she had gained was enough to reach her destination before she would sink.

And to take the Eclipse with her as well.

Cynosura watched the corvette with bated breath. Or rather, her crumbling, flaming hull.

At full speed, the Daredevil’s bow smashed into the side of the enemy cruiser. Clots of fire and metal debris flew in all directions. The Eclipse swayed – but stayed on the water.

And then the corvette exploded.

For a moment, the two ships were hidden by a bright red ball of flame that lit up the waves, so bright that Cynosura involuntarily covered her eyes with her hoof. When she looked up again, the Daredevil was no longer visible. But there was a huge, oblong hole in the side of the Eclipse, into which water poured at an alarming rate, and the Lunar Fleet cruiser was sinking rapidly into the sea.

Cynosura didn’t notice as her hoof seemed to rise to her temple by itself. Standing on two active legs, she straightened and gave a final salute to the sailors who had sacrificed themselves for their shared, though now almost unattainable, victory.

Along with Cynosura, everyone else in the deckhouse saluted as well. The captain and the first mate, Cobalt, the two marine guards, even the helmsman. Each of them probably imagined what it would be like to go to certain death to save the others. In the name of an idea that had become a basic principle of existence? Would they be able to do the same – or prefer to save themselves and everything else?

And these questions were not rhetorical.

Soon the top mast of the ship disappeared into the abyss, and the waves were tinted with dark smoke from within. Nothing else indicated that an enormous ship had been here not so long ago.

However, there was still another ship, an even bigger one. It was still firing at the shore on the starboard side, while the artillery on the port side was already turning on the Sun Princess.

Cynosura’s throat went dry. There was nothing between the Equestrian cruiser and the Lunar Republic battleship. No other participants in the battle. Just the two of them – one on one. The slowly sinking, charred, blood-soaked cruiser – and the huge, intimidating, still undamaged battle machine.

And absolutely no chance of escape.

Well, then let’s try to die honorably.

“I suppose you see it all too,” she said without turning around, her tone as even as possible. “And you know what awaits us. Captain, what’s the condition of the ship?”

“Everything’s bad,” said the stallion in white, who had just received a report from an officer who had briefly entered the wheelhouse. “There’s a lot of water in the hold, the pumps can’t handle it. The engine is running at half power – it just can’t produce any more. Fortunately, the fuel spill has been contained, so there are no major fires, except for a few on deck…”

He sighed and shook his head.

“But it still doesn’t make sense. We have half an hour at most before the ship sinks. Take command, Rear Admiral. It’s up to you now.”

“No, Captain.” The stallion raised an eyebrow in bewilderment. “It’s not up to you and me, or even our orders. It’s up to every officer, every sailor, every technician on board to decide for themselves. I can’t order anypony to be a hero. But we can ask them to. Whoever wants to, get in the lifeboats and evacuate to shore. I won’t interfere in any way. But those who choose to stay… with them we shall meet our fate together.”

“Aye, ma’am,” the captain said slowly, repeating Cynosura's order over the loudspeaker. Then he looked at the helmspony, “You can go too. I’ll take it from here.”

“Th-thank you, sir…” the pony whispered and, hiding his running eyes, sprinted away from the wheelhouse.

The captain glanced at him and took the wheel himself.

“What a generation…” he muttered and began to turn the ship around. “Course one hundred and eighty-five. The target is the enemy battleship.”

His hoof rested on the throttle. “Full ahead.” And pushed it all the way forward.

From somewhere behind came an overwhelming hum. There was a vibration in the floor and walls, but the main thing had been accomplished.

The Sun Princess headed for the ram, picking up speed.

“Well, perhaps we’d better go to,” the captain said tiredly. He stepped away from the dashboard and opened the wheelhouse door. “No reason for us to hide here any longer.”

They stepped out onto the deck where the entire crew was already gathered. Many ponies stood together and watched in silence as the side of the huge steel monster grew right in front of them.

Some of the enemy cannons were aimed at the cruiser herself, while the rest were pointed somewhere off to the side. Turning her head in that direction, Cynosura saw a flock of lifeboats scurrying away from the battlefield. The mare’s eyes widened, and her teeth clenched.

No… Why them?! Just so long as… at least someone would survive…

BOOOOOOOOM!!!

A new volley – now not at the shore, but at themselves – frothed the water, obscuring the lifeboats from view. Many shells flew past, but one hit the cruiser’s bow. Cynosura shielded herself from the airwave and flying debris with her front hoof – and when she lifted her eyes again, she saw the black pupil of a nine-inch gun that seemed to be looking straight at her.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

This time the Night Child didn’t miss. A firestorm, in which none of those gathered could survive, swept across the cruiser’s deck.

But there was no need to.

In the next second, the cruiser’s sharp bow slammed into the dark blue armor of the battleship.

CRRRRRRRACK!!!

The force of the impact was so great that the solid metal simply buckled inward, and the Night Child collapsed to starboard. Columns of black smoke rose into the sky.

The battleship tilted even more. The Sun Princess’ engine continued to run, pushing the already dead ship forward, into the enemy flagship.

And then she finally exploded.

A cloud of flame engulfed the cruiser and spread to the battleship’s innards. Swaying on the waves, the bound ships were slowly sinking into the water.

The winged swarm rose again over the sea and moved toward the shore. The Coltsmarine personnel, unlike the Equestrians, abandoned their ships less by choice than by their race’s abilities.

But before they reached the shore, the pegasi and batponies began to fall one by one, like birds shot by a hunter.

The time gained by the Equestrian fleet’s fierce resistance was enough for the dragons to deploy their entire small army along the northern coast and the slopes of the Mountain.

A few lifeboats landed on the shore a short distance away. A couple dozen ponies climbed out onto the bare, sharp rocks and stood still as they watched the dragon troops, led by Princess Amber, who could be seen here and there, methodically knock out Nightmare Moon’s fighters.

Soon there would be nothing left of them.

The sun was rising over the ocean; bright white glints appeared on the surface of the water. And in the warm rays pouring down from the sky, the black smoke rose from the burning ships and the thick blood was staining the rocks of the main island.

…She was pushed into a room and then kicked in the butt, her face riding the smooth floor. Delta gritted her teeth at the pain in her bruised nose, knowing she shouldn’t make these ponies angry. She had experienced all their hospitality over the past few days.

The blindfold didn’t allow her to see what was around, and the strap on her wings kept her from fighting back. But she made no effort. She realized it was useless now.

Without a word, she was telekinetically lifted onto her hooves and sat down on an unexpectedly soft chair. A heavy steel bracelet clicked over her hoof, and Delta realized from the metal tinkling that she was chained to something, most likely a table leg. She stretched her hooves out in front of her – right, it was the table.

It’s so smooth that even disgusting. If I scratch it, they’ll charge me a hundred thousand, no less. Or maybe they’ll just fuck me. I could live with that anyway. Better once in the ass than five years or whatever it takes to give every free bit. But I won’t give a blow job – my mouth’s so dry and tongue’s like sandpaper…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door closing behind her. And then there was silence, broken only by her intermittent breathing.

Woah, are they really gone? And… nopony’s here anymore? What the fuck…?

Suddenly Delta found her forelegs free. After a moment’s hesitation, she carefully pulled off the blindfold.

The light immediately hit her eyes and the pegasus hissed through her teeth, covering herself with her hooves. Blinking and adjusting, she moved her legs away from her face and looked around the spacious room with interest.

Some kind of meeting room? Is there gonna be an interrogation or something…?

“Uh, hey…” she said hoarsely, and coughed before she could finish her sentence. “O-o-oh…”

She looked across the long table – and couldn’t believe what she saw. Opposite her, in the distance, stood a bottle of water. A full one. A liter. Clear. And surely so wet inside…

Delta breathed out loud. The wretched bottle hypnotized her, and she couldn’t look away. Her lips pressed together and relaxed, as if she imagined that she would grab the bottle, open the cap, and drink, drink, drink…

Forgetting that she was shackled, she sprang from her seat – but the sturdy chain and bandage on her wings stopped her. Delta’s belly hit the corner of the table and she fell to the floor with a groan.

An attempt to crawl up was also unsuccessful. The chain just tightened, holding the mare in place.

Delta turned and yanked at the chained leg. But the metal hoop remained firmly in place. The pegasus mare still tried to pull it off. To no avail.

Growling through clenched teeth, she leaned her back against the table leg and pressed down on the shackle with all her might. The shackle shifted just a millimeter, but at the same second, the pegasus screamed in pain as the shackle’s edge tore through her skin, spurting blood onto the marble floor.

Like a broken bush, Delta crumpled up and collapsed onto her belly. Tears streamed from the tips of her eyelashes, forming two microscopic puddles on the floor. Delta stared at them for a while – and then started licking them off with her dry tongue…

“Well, well, well…” came a high, haughty voice from the side, and the pegasus jumped up and banged her head on the edge of the table. “Let me guess, pretty thirsty, huh?”

Coughing again, Delta turned and froze. Even the air seemed to be stuck in her throat, making it impossible to inhale or exhale.

In front of her, in glittering bluish slippers, stood the one she least expected to see.

From the height of her considerable stature, Nightmare Moon herself was staring down at Delta.

The pegasus suddenly realized how pathetic she must look now, with her disheveled gray feathers, her unwashed and unkempt dark green mane, and the lingering smell of booze. But there was nowhere to go, so she just lifted her head and stared wide-eyed at the apparent mistress of the place.

The black alicorn let out a short, sharp laugh.

“Well, you’re welcome, little pony.” A turquoise light flashed, then the shackles on Delta’s leg disappeared, and the wound was healed in an instant. “If you’re thirsty, drink, I allow it.”

The pegasus stared at her leg, unable to believe what she saw. Then she glanced warily at the Night Princess, leapt across the table, grabbed the bottle, and landed on the floor with it like a battle trophy. She tore off the cap with her teeth and clung to the neck…

The next second, her eyes went wide, and she threw the bottle away, coughing and spitting. The clear liquid began to spill onto the floor, emitting a pungent, sour smell.

“You… kh… wanted to… kha… p-poison me?” Delta gasped.

“It’s just vinegar, you fool,” Nightmare Moon replied without a hint of amusement. The bottle and the puddle disappeared along with the smell, and out of nowhere a quarter-full glass appeared in front of the coughing and wheezing pegasus. “Here’s some water for you. Be grateful that I didn’t make you drink your own urine.”

“Th-thank you…” Delta mumbled and sniffed the contents of the glass.

But it didn’t smell of anything, so the pegasus took her first careful sip. Then, no longer hesitating, she drank it all down.

“M-may I have some more, p-please?”

“More? With pleasure. But you shall have to earn it.”

A folder of papers appeared in the air before Nightmare Moon.

“Well… Delta Velocity Evers, Delta Vee for short, right?”

“Y-yes, ma’am…”

“Call me Horsecoacher.” The alicorn wrinkled her nose in disdain. “Sit up already… you disgrace.”

Delta hastily climbed into the chair, shrinking into a lump.

Meanwhile, Nightmare paced the room, the folder floating in front of her in a magical light.

“Early interest in space and rockets… Technical University diploma with distinction… Lived in Las Pegasus, but moved to Hoofington with her husband and daughter when the spaceport was built… Stream Jet and Apogee, right?”

“Y-yes…” The pegasus’ gaze was filled with concern. “Where are they? I mean, are they okay?”

“Worked with her husband in EASA for four years, then suddenly left without explanation… Worked for private companies for a while, later settled down in a junkyard and did some minor repairs…” Nightmare Moon grimaced. “What a downfall… And for what – just to see less of her husband and daughter, who, by the way, loves her mother very much… unlike she herself…”

“Where are they?” Delta jumped to her hooves. “What have you done to them?!”

“Silence, mortal!”

This time, the magical field enveloped her completely. She fell to the ground, unable to move a muscle. The black alicorn slowly approached the pegasus and placed a hoof on her neck. The pleasant chill of the star-metal slipper touched her skin.

“Remember who you are talking to!” Nightmare Moon hissed and stepped back. “Otherwise, we’ll continue this conversation somewhere else, and I don’t think you’ll like it…”

The magic field disappeared, and Delta rolled onto her side, clutching her throat and breathing heavily.

“Don’t worry, they’re alive and well. For now,” Nightmare clarified. “And their situation depends entirely on whether we can come to an agreement. However, I was kind enough to let them deliver a message for you. Here, read it.”

A piece of paper appeared out of nowhere. The pegasus immediately grabbed it, unfolded and plunged into reading.

Writing. It was definitely their writing. Delta recognized it well: Jet’s crisp, angular letters and Apogee’s mouth-written scribbles. Tears came to her eyes again, but she wiped them away as she read the words that stabbed her heart.

Please, Delta, wherever you are and whatever happens to you now, stay calm and be reasonable. Do whatever they want, I won’t blame you. I just want you to live. Be strong – I know you can.
I’m sorry again for everything. I love you very much.
Jet

And just below was a little note from Apogee:

Mom, I’m scared. I’m worried about you. I hope you’re okay. They don’t tell us anything about you. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.
Yours, A.

No… I can’t… look at this anymore…

Closing her eyes, Delta turned away. The paper fell from her hooves and dissolved in another flash of magic.

“Why… why do you need me?” the pegasus asked through her gritted teeth. “What do you want from me?”

“Knowledge. It’s the most precious thing you have.” The alicorn looked at her prisoner scornfully once again. “Sit down. And look at what I’m going to show you.”

Delta settled back in her chair, and a thick stack of large sheets of paper materialized on the table in front of her.

“Tell me, little pony, what do you see in these drawings?” Nightmare asked.

“These… these…”

With her mouth agape, Delta flipped through the sheets – and her eyes seemed to devour every number, every line depicted on it.

Finally, she pulled herself away from the blueprints and spoke, “These are… rockets. With all the nodes and… Celestia, where did you get this…?”

Realizing she’d said something wrong, she clamped her mouth shut – but too late.

A powerful slap knocked her out of her chair again. Rubbing the bruise on her cheekbone, Delta looked up at the alicorn in fear.

“That name,” Nightmare said, leaning toward the pegasus, “is forbidden here! Don’t try my patience or I won’t be able to help your pathetic family! Do you understand?!”

Delta only nodded slowly and fearfully.

“War…” the alicorn said and walked to the window. “War never changes. To win it, it takes not only courage, bravery, or the number of fighters and the mindset of warlords – but what they all will use. Weapons, communications, or whatever else… Technologies, little pony. To win, we need technologies the enemy doesn’t have. And more importantly, ponies to bring them to life. I happen to have these blueprints; no other pony knows about them except you and me and one other mare. And what I want you to do is study all of them – and then build a rocket. Many rockets. Each with a different mission. I’ve been told it’s possible, and I have no reason not to trust it.”

She turned to Delta, who was back at the table.

“So, what do you say? Keep in mind that if you refuse, I’ll still be able to find someone else who will do what I want. But nopony will ever remember you or your family. But if you accept my offer, you’ll get an apartment, a job, your own research center…! And most importantly,” the alicorn raised her hoof, “your husband and daughter will be safe. How about that, my little pony? Is it worth it to finally get out of the junkyard…?”

“I…” Delta looked at her forelegs, then sighed and closed her eyes. “I’ll take it.”

“Good.” The full bottle appeared in front of her again. “I always reward my loyal allies. The main thing is not to disappoint me.”

Ignoring Nightmare’s words, Delta gulped down the water. Clear streams ran down the pegasus’ chin and neck.

As the black alicorn watched this, her lips curled into a grin.

Ponies… her gaze read. You are so easy to manipulate with your base desires. And the funny thing is that you’ll still think it’s good.

Pegasus, unicorn, earth pony, even thestral, you are all bugs under my hoof. But useful enough to help me conquer this world. All it takes is more ponies… and more time. Equestria will see the horrors of the eternal Night. And nothing, not even the greatest army, can stop me.

Because you are just bugs, nothing more.

The Center for Medical Research was a three-story yellow stone mansion surrounded by a grove of magically grown trees. Next to it were two rows of other buildings that had sprung up here after the war began: the Center for Magical Research, in the shape of a chess piece topped by a six-rayed star from Princess Twilight’s cutie mark; the glass obelisk of the Technology Council, with gears and a sword as its emblem; the headquarters of the S.M.I.L.E. agency, with its balloon-landing tower; the sharp, angular black stone column of the Wonderbolts’ Canterlot office; finally, the white, jewel-encrusted Equestria Education Association building. But compared to them, the C.M.R. definitely tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, not to emphasize the importance of its mission with its mere appearance.

Because of its squatness, the Center had a spacious roof – but no one usually went up to it. The large, white marble surface looked like a great place for a retreat… or a picnic, as the case might be.

But then the rough wooden door of the superstructure opened, and a pony came out onto the roof. The yellow pegasus with the long pink mane was an important part of the Center’s work, and she had no prohibitions here.

Fluttershy looked strangely calm as she walked slowly across the smooth, polished roof. Under her wing, the pegasus was clutching something in her feathers, but what it was could not yet be seen.

As she approached the edge, she looked up at the sky, which was covered in light clouds; the weather teams probably had some rain planned for tonight. But upon closer inspection, it was clear that the yellow pony was not looking up, but inward.

I wanted to help… To relieve suffering, to give life, to make it more beautiful and meaningful. To be kind. To do better! And I’ve even made some progress, but…

She sank down and let out a soft, barely audible sigh.

This war… It shouldn’t have happened. It just couldn’t! I don’t know what went wrong, why the ponies turned so… evil. All of them. Even the ones I knew well. Or… thought I did? No, this can’t be true! Tears welled up in Fluttershy’s eyes, and the pegasus shut her eyes tightly and turned away from the sky. They’re still my friends, even if they… said what they said. And did what they did.

Opening her eyes again, she unfolded her wing. Between the feathers were the scissors from the Center’s medical equipment, a small iron sharper than any bayonet.

I’m sorry, Rainbow, if my spell didn’t work quite the way you needed. But I was in favor of equal help for all ponies… even if they were fighting against us a moment ago. I hoped that if I showed them a little mercy, they would admit that they were wrong and that good should win… And even if I was wrong, I would continue to help them. Just because I think it’s the right thing to do. If it wasn’t so…

She sobbed, trembling from head to toe, and clenched the scissors between her teeth. As a pegasus, it was easier for her to wield them by putting fly feathers through the rings… but what she wanted to do couldn’t be done that way.

Clutching one half of the scissors in her teeth and holding the other half with her hoof, Fluttershy set to work.

One by one, the yellow feathers began to fall onto the smooth roof.

It didn’t hurt much: there were few nerve endings and no blood vessels in that part of the wing. Fluttershy knew her own anatomy, as well as that of many other animals, in great detail.

Then it was the other wing’s turn. The pile of tattered, clipped feathers on the edge of the roof doubled in size.

When it was done, the scissors fell from Fluttershy’s grasp and hit the marble with a thud.

Unable to fly, the pegasus stood on the roof and looked out over Canterlot. The majestic castle towered just across the street.

I’m sorry, Princess. I have failed to justify your trust. I hope you win this war… but without me. There is nothing I can do to help – neither you, nor myself… nor Equestria.

Suddenly, a door creaked open somewhere behind her, and Fluttershy turned.

A staff pony peered out of the doorway.

“Miss Fluttershy? Are you here? I’ve been looking for you for… Oh, Goddess…!”

She didn’t answer. Just smiled faintly and looked down at the pink pavement that surrounded the building.

I’m not a traitor, Rainbow. And I never was. But if you thought I was… then I’m sorry. For you and your values. Maybe one day you’ll come to your senses and realize what my motives were.

Ponies were running at her with all their hooves. Calling for her to stop and think again… Promising to help in any way they could…

But it was too late for her. And how could she help when the whole world, all the ideals she’d shared, had turned out to be nothing, a fiction that had no place in the cruel reality full of violence and suffering? The reality in which she could no longer be herself and carry to the other ponies what they, as it turned out, didn’t need.

Farewell. May Celestia judge you all… and Luna, if… she comes back. Just… try to do better. Be kind. And then there will be harmony… and friendship again. Friendship among all ponies and other creatures. Friendship that’s now being torn to shreds.

I can’t watch this. It’s beyond me. Forgive me if you can. And… farewell. I hope that all I’ve done will not go to waste in the future.

She took a step. Just one – but it was enough to send the pegasus into her final flight.

A flight that would have no soft landing.

Fluttershy had never flown so fast. Except when she was pulling a balloon in pursuit of Rainbow, discolored by Discord.

The friend who called her a traitor to Equestria.

Well, she won’t betray anyone else. But the ponies will have to help themselves.

And let the armies of the two sisters continue to fight to win…

But kindness and good have already lost this battle.

Equestria Daily, March 1, 1008.

…In southern Zebrica, the armed conflict between the state of the Qaylidi Dervishes (Diamond Dogs) and the Thundarian Magocracy (Yetis) has ended with the signing of a peace treaty in the city of Chigachirud. The parties have agreed to return all captured prisoners to each other, and the Dervishes will receive over a hundred pieces of equipment…

*

Le Petit Griffon, March 9.

…In Pridea, the revolutionary army of the Aquielian Republic has overthrown the tyrannical monarchist regime of Baron Dennis Discret. The region’s capital has been taken, and the streets are filled with pro-Republican marches. Long live free Aquelia! Long live the revolution!

*

Canterlot Times, March 24.

The assault on Whinnyapolis, the Night Cultists’ main stronghold in northern Equestria, which began on February 24th, continues. The brave soldiers of the Harmonic Army, supported by the Steel Horseshoes PMC and the Legion volunteer force commanded by Scrappy Rug the pegasus, who was sentenced to death for mercenarism in Stalliongrad, are fighting for every street. Cultists, mostly of the Batpony race, are holding civilian hostages and threatening to blow up apartment buildings. However, Equestrian forces refuse to be provoked and continue to liberate the city.

As a reminder, yesterday the clearing of the Left Bank was completed. Most of the cultists have been trapped at the Whinnyapolis Steel Company plant (WSC, or Whinnysteel for short), with all avenues of retreat blocked. The town hall was liberated this morning. But the snipers on the rooftops are shooting at civilians, and that is causing some trouble. But the united ranks of our troops are acting decisively and skillfully, and we believe that the enemy’s stronghold will soon be eliminated…

*

Shams Al Sahraa, April 6.

…The armed forces of the Arabian Republic under the command of the blessed leader Yazid Al Hudhail in a bloody battle near Mareakech defeated the dastardly villains of the Arabian Popular Front and put an end to more than a year of civil war. Zahra Al Malik, who led the enemy camp, managed to escape, most likely to the northern Zebrica. However, revolutionary sentiment is still widespread among the population, so the danger of renewed fighting remains…

*

Equestria Nightly, April 7.

…A trade treaty with Skyfall has been signed. Lunar Chancellery analysts estimate that this will solve the cities’ food supply problems and set the stage for increased munitions production. The president of the Four Stars Transportation Company has already made a glowing speech in support of the decision…

Subponies, led by the criminal celestia (the name is lowercased on purpose), must be defeated…

*

Canterlot Times, April 10.

…It has come to light of the tremendous naval battle that has recently taken place near the Dragon Isles. A part of the Equestrian Fleet commanded by Rear Admiral Cynosura, which had relocated from Baltimare to the Spa Islands after the Lunar Revolution, fought an unequal battle with the Coltsmarine Expeditionary Force, which included the battleship Night Child. During the battle, both fleets were completely destroyed; the cruiser Sun Princess made a ram and sank with herself and the enemy battleship. A single gunboat returned to base, picking up about fifteen ponies who had managed to evacuate from the sunken cruiser.

The news of Cynosura’s heroic death came as a shock. An eighteen-gun salute was fired in Canterlot in honor of the young pony’s feat (see “Obituaries” on page 18 for more on her biography). Admiral Dust Hoover of the Vanhoover Commune, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and her husband Prince Consort Shining Armor of the Crystal Empire, as well as the new General Secretary of Severyana, Vasiliy Wheatin, and Dragon Princess Amber, sent their condolences. Cynosura is awarded the Equestrian Pink Heart of Courage post mortem. She is also given the rank of Admiral. The issue of renaming a street in her honor is under consideration…

*

Severyanskaya Pravda, April 12.

…At today’s plenary session of the Central Committee of the S.C.P. a draft version of the text of the new national anthem was presented. It is expected to be finally approved no later than May 27.

[Verse 1]
United forever in friendship and labour,
Our mighty Republic will ever endure.
The great Severyana will live through the ages,
The dream of the ponies their fortress secure.

[Chorus]
Long live our Homeland strong and proof,
Built by the ponies’ mighty hoof.
Long live our people, united and free!
Strong in our friendship tried by fire.
Long may our crimson flag inspire,
Shining in glory for ponies to see!

[Verse 2]
Through days dark and rough where Steel Stallion lead us
Our eyes saw the bright sun of freedom above,
And our mighty leader with faith in the people,
Inspired us to build up the land that we love.

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
We fought for the future, destroyed the invaders,
And brought to our Homeland the laurels of fame.
Our glory will live in the memory of nations
And all generations will honor her name!

[Chorus]

*

Equestria Daily, April 16.

…a terrible event has occurred. The body of Fluttershy, a pegasus who was developing healing spells, was found near the Center for Medical Research building on Canterlot’s Royal Alley. The cause of death appears to be a fall from the roof. Details of the incident are still under investigation…

…the beginning of a new confrontation in Eastern Zebrica. The Militarchy of Lan Kir, which broke away from the Realm of Kiria after the decree of the Silence in 903 ALB, has declared war on Sen Kinh. The reasons are still unknown, but it can be assumed that it is an attempt to forcibly integrate the three provinces of the former Zaikiria (Lan Kir, Sen Kinh, and Khamrin) into one country to counter Kiria’s growing influence on the continent…

…Also, the following armed conflicts are ongoing currently:

• since September 6, 1005 – the Third Kompelian War between the Roaman Kaiserate and the Talonsvaal Republic (Zebrica);
• since January 1, 1007 – the War of the Storm King’s Legacy: Icepaw Provisional Directorate vs. the Gyzwindid Realm, Thundarian, and Stormland Regency (Zebrica);
• since May 13, 1007 – the Longsword Civil War, Longsword vs. Rosewood (Griffonia);
• since November 8, 1007 – the Equestrian Civil War (Equus);
• since November 14, 1007 – Macigena vs. Zar-Hay (Zebrica);
• since November 29, 1007 – Alvani vs. Timbucktoo (Zebrica);
• since December 18, 1007 – Chiropterra vs. Tobuck and Warzena (Zebrica);
• since January 3, 1008 – Hayzeb Federation vs. Gelon-Zornu (Zebrica);
• since January 28, 1008 – Aoranda vs. Ugabi (Zebrica).

Such ponitical tensions can only be worrisome.
It seems as if the whole world is at war right now.

[1] New Ayakachtli is the capital of Chiropterra, a city populated by approximately 1.3 million ponies and zebras.
Nightmare Moon is formally the ruler, but her will is carried out by Her Imperial Majesty’s Legionary Council, consisting of six ponies, each at the head of their own Legion, a large paramilitary clan of descendants of refugees from Equestria. Zebras are used as a labor force under the control of the Native Affairs Commission.
Emerald Light is the head of the Legionary Department of Medical Research, a group of scientists and engineers who perform medical and biological experiments on zebra laborers or criminals from the Legions.

[2] “Caramel Sweet” in Severyan language.

[3] Narodnyy komissariat vnutrennikh del – “People’s Commissariat of Internal Affairs” in Severyan; the ministry dealing with crime and security issues.