The War of Moon and Sun

April – May 1008

April 30

…It was a recess in the School of Friendship.

The laughter of colts and fillies and the clatter of little hooves echoed through the halls. It was as if there was no war rumbling a few hundred miles east.

But if one listened, the laughter would sometimes break off, as if from a bad memory; and if one looked closely, some of the foals would peer at the windows, as if afraid they might shatter at any moment.

There were posters on the walls: mostly the usual ones, with the Mane Six giving advice on friendship, or other ponies explaining things. But a few posters were clearly new and contrasted sharply with the carefreeness of the rest: “How to provide first aid,” “How to behave when fired upon or attacked by the enemy,” and the like.

Under one such poster – “How to spot a spy” – a herd of young ponies had just gathered. In muffled voices, they read the dull lines of instruction to themselves, glancing warily at the three thestrals, the parents and a foal, whom the teacher, Miss Lemon Hearts, was talking to nearby. The colt, obviously bored with standing in one place and listening to the adults talk, caught these suspicious glances and hesitated to approach the students, seemingly trying to shield himself from the attention of others with his leathery webbed wings.

The bell rang, and all the students scurried back to their classrooms, murmuring something.

As the foals settled down, Lemon Hearts entered the classroom, followed by the Batpony family. All three were dark gray with manes of varying shades of blue and purple: the father’s was darker, the mother’s was lighter, and the son’s was about in the middle. And of course, their ears had the typical tufts.

“Attention, kids!” the yellow unicorn mare spoke, and the murmuring stopped immediately. “Please meet our new student and his parents. This is Mr. and Mrs. Skies and their son, Starry.” The adult thestrals nodded awkwardly at the words, but the young one finally covered himself with his wings. “They have moved to Littlehorn from Ponderosa, near Canterlot. Please welcome our new friends.”

There was a discreet clatter of hooves on the floor and tabletops.

“Mr. Skies, can you tell us a little about your job?” Lemon Hearts turned to the foal’s parents.

“I work in a factory, making parts for airplanes,” the thestral replied. “I came here for Starry so he wouldn’t be so scared, and I’ll be going back soon.”

“I used to work in a cafe,” his wife said. “I hope there is a place in this nice little town where I can stay for a while.”

“Thank you,” Lemon Hearts nodded and looked at the colt. “Don’t be afraid, there is nothing to fear. Come in, take the empty seat.”

The young batpony nodded hesitantly and made his way to an empty desk at the side of the third row. After sitting down on a tiny bench, he took a notebook and a pencil out of his backpack.

“Well, let’s not keep our guests waiting,” said the teacher. “I assure you, there is no better place for study in all of Equestria.”

“We’ll see," the thestral said and smiled at his son, his fangs bared. “Don’t worry, Star, I’ll be back. Mom will look after you.”

“All righf, Dawwy,” the colt replied with a slight lisp, picking up a pencil between his teeth.

The two thestrals left, and the class fell back into excited whispers for a few moments.

“Si-ile-ence,” Lemon Hearts chanted. When everypony had calmed down, she went to the blackboard. “Now, the topic of today’s lesson is propaganda and how to spot it. Don’t fidget, Jackie… Let’s start with what propaganda is…”

Adjacent to the newly built mansion that housed the School of Friendship, which had been moved from Ponyville, was a large park that the villagers kept in perfect condition. The paths were lined with rows of poplars, maples, and cypresses, and the lawns were neatly trimmed; if any of the children broke a branch or ran through the grass, they were sent to extra friendship lessons for a week.

Starry Skies knew these rules (the etiquette teacher, Miss Twinkleshine, had told them), so he walked right in the middle of the pathway. Actually, there was nothing stopping him from flying, but Daddy said it was not right to train only his wings. Besides, not all ponies could fly, and to build relationships with more than just Pegasi, for example, it was worth trying to behave like everyone else.

Only the young batpony saw how they looked at him. What was more, in Ponderosa, where they had to move from Canterlot after the war began, Starry could not even take a step because he had fangs! And his wings weren’t right either. And his ears too.

Worst of all, since last fall, thestrals in Canterlot’s Equestria had earned the unspoken status of “Lunazis” and “traitors,” even though many of them (like Starry’s father, Radom) worked for the Harmonic Army and supported Celestia. And some even – unprecedentedly – served in the military.

To change that, and to find a friendly place to live, Starry and her mother moved to Littlehorn (and Radom stayed to work at the factory). But even after enrolling in the School of Friendship, the young batpony began to wonder if it lived up to its name.

After all, ponies are the same everywhere. And they always see enemies in those who look a little different.

Especially when most of them really are.

So Starry didn’t go to the fountain with the others, but turned down one of the side paths, away from the school building. At least there were no stares, just the rustle of the wind and the singing of birds.

Gradually, the path made a detour and turned back. The long break would be over soon, and there were two more lessons on the schedule, so he had to get back soon.

Starry was about to take flight when he noticed a group of ponies coming towards him.

A pit in his stomach and a familiar itch on his back told him it was time to make wings.

But as he looked around, he noticed two pegasi landing as casually as possible on the path behind him. Both were from his class, and, he remembered now, were among those standing by the poster about spies.

As were those approaching him.

Wasting no time, Starry took off and raced toward the school. But he had not flown much in his life: Equestrians might not understand if they saw a fanged beast in the sky. So the pegasi caught up to him in a flash – and then, grabbing his legs and clawing at his wings with their teeth, they dragged him to the ground and piled on top of him so he couldn't move.

By this time, four more ponies came up to them – three colts and a filly. Leading them was obviously a cream-yellow earth pony that looked like a big sugar bun, the kind he was probably used to eating by the dozens in the mess hall; it was the one Lemon Hearts had called Jackie back then. Starry didn’t know the others; he hadn’t had time to get acquainted.

And now, it seemed, the occasion was upon him.

“Hey, lef-f me go!” shouted the batpony. “Whaf are you woin’?”

“Just catching a spy,” Jackie grinned and stepped right up to Starry, who was trying to get away. Then he gave him a swift kick in the face with his hoof.

“For w-whaf?!”

“You’re a Lunatic!” shouted one of the foals. “All batponies are Lunatics!”

“No, we’re nof!” Starry whimpered. “I’m n-nof a Lunafic!”

“And you expect us to believe you so easily?” Jackie snorted. “Say ‘Hail Celestia’ three times!”

“Hail Shelesthia…” stammered the batpony.

And then he got a punch in the nose, which made him shriek and burst into tears.

“And I say you are a bucking Lunatic! You can’t even say the Princess’ name right!”

“No, no… If’s nof like thaf… My dawwy’s helpin’ the army…”

“Yeah, and tomorrow our planes are gonna start dropping like cider kegs?” Jackie leaned over to Starry and looked into his eyes. “You. Ain’t. Welcome here. Go back to the mountains, or wherever the hay you crawled out of… Equestria’s a big place, there’s room even for shit like y-AAAAAAAH!!!”

Jackie jerked back, clutching his bloody nose. It was Starry who lunged forward, clawing at the earth pony’s face with his fangs.

The blow to his back made the batpony scream and fall to the ground. The pain was hellish – even his hind legs seemed to stop feeling.

“Ya little turd!”

Starry’s head snapped sideways from Jackie’s leg.

“We’ll never let…”

A blow to the base of the wing.

“…any fanged bastard…”

Under the breath.

“…come…”

In the neck.

“…on our land!”

“Hey!” squealed the filly, who had been watching the nearby paths and sky the whole time. “The teacher’s comin’!”

“Hurry!”

Four ponies galloped away, and two more soared into the air and disappeared into the trees.

The bleeding body of the batpony colt was left on the path.

Just like the picture in the November paper when a thestral had been shot by a guard.

But now it was just ordinary ponies who did the “justice.” And they did not flinch.

May 2 & 3

The radio was silent.

Petty Officer Wind Sprinkle sighed and turned the knob.

With a crackling hiss, the voice of the announcer came into the radio room, mumbling something in Severyan. Probably something like “the Party is our helmsman” or about progress in industry or agriculture. Boring. He did manage to get some music from Stalliongrad from time to time, though, pleasant and sometimes quite unusual, but always with incomprehensible words. As if Equestrian was not spoken there at all.

Another turn and there was distinctive Griffonian croak. Wind Sprinkle grimaced. He had never liked to hear it, especially after the events of the fall.

The unicorn turned the knob back to the Equestrian Navy emergency frequency and looked out the window. Several griffons with huge R1/6 rifles were walking along the pier, separated from the complex by a razor wire fence. One shot and the head would be gone. Two more hovered in the air, providing cover.

Wind Sprinkle exhaled through his teeth and turned away.

I wish these plucked chickens would part and let us just get the hay outta here.

Last November came to mind. Then, a week after news of the outbreak of the Civil War, the garrison at the naval base of Village Up North had experienced firsthoof what occupation and annexation were all about.

…The border posts had no time to report anything. They were simply swept away by an entire Griffon division. In just over an hour, Nova Griffonia’s forces had occupied a nearby town and reached the base. The Equestrians tried to break out to the ships to use the artillery the invaders didn’t have but were met with heavy fire. Several pegasi and griffons were killed in the aerial skirmishes, after which the griffons ceased firing and sent a parliamentarian to read Governor Teafeather’s decree that Village Up North be annexed to Nova Griffonia “to ensure the safety of the southern coast.”

Since then, several hundred sailors had been holed up in the encircled base, and another twenty thousand ponies – their families and support staff – in the town of the same name. The griffons had full control of the settlement, but they were wary of the garrison. A few days into the occupation, they demanded that everypony surrender their weapons, but the flotilla commander, Commodore Silkworm, refused. Apparently not wanting more casualties, the griffons did not insist, and a precarious balance between the factions has prevailed ever since. The Equestrians were supplied with everything they needed – but kept under strict surveillance and prevented from communicating with the outside world.

The only exception was the naval base radio room. During the attack, the griffons attempted to destroy the radio tower, but the pegasi stood in their way, and the order was aborted. According to a temporary agreement between Silkworm and the griffon forces, the base’s territory was inviolable – in return, the Equestrians promised not to attack back or leave the base.

Now, all news to the sailors was relayed from Severyana on a frequency picked up by a post in Arctichik, on the other side of the River Up North that bordered Stalliongrad and the outlying Equestrian province. In the first days after the attack, the radio operator had sent out distress calls on all frequencies – but only one had been heard.

If they’d at least let us see our families, we might even be okay with their power, Wind Sprinkle thought. Then we’d have done something about it long ago. Well, at least we wouldn’t be cooped up in four walls. Half of us get laid all day long, thanks to birth control and viagra, and the rest of us just go crazy with boredom. There have been so many chess tournaments for the prize of a bottle of apple whiskey from the Commodore’s private stock… we’ll soon drink all his booze… One has even started writing a book… Some have already hanged themselves in despair…

Wind Sprinkle exhaled sharply and paced around the room. Outside, the wind was blowing against the window.

Really, what’s next? Are we just going to spend the whole war in here while two mares are out there humping their horns…? Or one day somebody’s patience will run out – ours or the griffons’… And then we’ll either be bombed into the mud, or we’ll attack them with about the same result… Eh, I wish I knew the name of that guy from the Commies who throws us information to thank us – but no, they have secrecy there… Ah, whatever…

“Wind, Wind, I’m Heron, respond,” came suddenly clearly from the radio.

The next moment the petty officer jumped to the microphone.

“I’m Wind, calling Heron. You’re good, roger.”

“Message from Admiral Cynosura.”

Wind Sprinkle broke out in a cold sweat. The unicorn knew about the battle on the Dragon Isles – and his heart bled every time he remembered it. On the one hoof, he was glad that the Lunazis had gotten their asses kicked, but on the other… a terrible price had been paid for it.

And now Wind Sprinkle was about to hear a message from the mare who had been dead for three weeks.

“…We have just received it. Route: Southpoint – Portland – Stableside – Gallopray – Hoofington – Appleloosa – Ponyville – Carrottop – Ponderosa – Ponydale – Cloudsdale – Canterlot – Bittersberry – Bales – Wolfthorn – Neighara – Crystal City – Rubrum – Ovsyankino – Stalliongrad – Zvezdopadovo – Arctichik – Village Up North. You can imagine how many ponies it went through. So, and I quote: ‘Prepare a plan to neutralize the NLR fleet in Albion and Manehattan. If possible, move south. I empower base command to request support from Stalliongrad. Proceed as appropriate.’ End of the message, over.”

Wind Sprinkle took a breath. As he stenographed the message, he jerked his pencil so hard that he could barely make out his own scribbles. Nevertheless, he memorized Cynosura’s words, straightforward and clear, firmly.

“Thank you, message received. Anything else? Roger.”

“It has come to light that the Nova Griffonia government plans to ‘finally settle the pony issue in the south.’ We don’t know the date, but intelligence puts it at weeks at most. Tanks, artillery, air, and even a sea invasion are possible…”

Wind Sprinkle gritted his teeth. And here comes the cost of delay…

Surprisingly, the stallion was neither startled nor shocked. What he had heard was a fully expected scenario, one that the entire base had been secretly whispering about for some time. The only question was who would make the first move and when: ponies or griffons.

And now it was time to play it safe.

“…there is a high chance that another division will be involved. The base will be mopped up, the ships refitted. No word on the fate of the civilians, but they will most likely be taken inland for hard labor.”

The pencil crunched, broken in half by the telekinetic field. Wind Sprinkle cursed briefly and immediately picked up a new one.

Bastards! Daybreaker blast them! No mercy!

But what he heard next made his heart pound with desperate hope.

“…so, the People’s Commissariat of Internal Affairs has authorized the Arctichik border guard to provide a corridor for the evacuation of the area by the only available road. The convoy will be allowed through at any time and will be protected from attack if detected. So try to make yourself known as early as possible, for example by shooting a lot of flares at once; ideally, tell us in advance when you will be leaving. If you refuse, the corridor will still be open in case somepony decides to break through, but the Party will get all the credit for saving the civilians. Wait for the answer. Over.”

“Copy that, Heron,” the unicorn exhaled. The whole sheet was now covered with almost unreadable horn-writing. “I’ll forward the information, expect a reply tomorrow at regular or reserve communication time. Over.”

“The forces will be put on alert. Over and out.”

“Yeah, out.”

The receiver went silent.

The petty officer flipped the switch, shutting off the radio. Inside his head, his thoughts raced randomly like foals at recess, colliding on the run and immediately rushing onward. The unicorn had never felt such confusion before.

After staring into space for a moment, Wind Sprinkle suddenly seemed to awaken. He glanced at the transcript again, then grabbed another sheet from the stack and began to rewrite the message in a hurry.

When he was done, the unicorn tossed the pencil aside, levitated the paper next to him, and dashed out of the radio room.

And he already knew to whom he would tell what he had heard.

“The situation is dire, gentlecolts. We must do something urgently.”

Commodore Silkworm smoothed his mustache and looked around at the assembled officers.

Their faces were all tense and sullen: they all realized that the trap they had walked into could slam shut at any moment.

“That’s obvious, but what can we do?” Captain Big Beaver, Silkworm’s deputy, spread his hooves. With his brown fur and protruding front teeth, he really did look a bit like a beaver. “All options seem lost. We can’t even get out of here on our own, let alone evacuate civilians. The griffons are watching our every move. And under these circumstances, you’re suggesting we fight?”

“If we surrender, we will all die,” said the Commodore, the white unicorn of imposing appearance and impeccable poise. “The fate of not only the base’s seven hundred and ninety sailors, but also the town’s twenty thousand inhabitants, is in our hooves. Yes, we can’t say that all of them will survive. On the contrary, some of them will definitely die. This is despite the fact that we will have to sacrifice some of our own to at least have a chance of getting out of here.”

“And who would that be?” snorted somepony on the right. “One of us? Or maybe you? Or hundreds of youngsters fit only to scrub decks and huddle in corners under cover of night? Or maybe your son is one of them, huh?”

There was a murmur of indignation in the room.

Silkworm closed his eyes, exhaled softly, and replied in a voice that was infinitely painful and tired. “It doesn’t matter now. Everyone will decide for himself – and be responsible for his decision. The main thing is to define tasks and ways of their fulfillment, aimed at achieving the goal. And our goal is to save as many civilians as possible. After all, this is our duty. We have sworn allegiance not only to the Princess, but to all of Equestria. And maybe I’m being corny, but Equestria is where we are. No matter what the griffons claim. So, any suggestions, or can we just go shoot ourselves in the temple?”

“Actually, there is,” the chief of operations, Captain Dayandey, a blue earth pony with a cutie mark in the shape of a mathematical formula, stood up. “I can show you what it should look like. But I’ll need a map of the area and some chips—”

“Without fish, I hope?” A detailed map of the area flew off the wall and landed on the green tablecloth. Then, in a cloud of telekinesis, a bag with a game set floated out. Four colorful pieces and some dice fell onto the map. “Oops, that’s probably unnecessary…”

“Well, let’s get started.” Dayandey placed three chips in the base area and one in the adjacent town. “You may have forgotten, but in addition to the civilians, we also have ships to fight. A direct fight in any direction will lead to a lot of unnecessary casualties and the failure of the whole mission. So we need to distract the griffons for at least a little while. And this is how we’re going to do it.”

He moved the red chip slightly over the edge of the base.

“A group of fighters will arrange some provocation – say, break through the cordon and tie up the Griffon forces with fire. Meanwhile,” the yellow chip moved beyond the coast, “some of our forces will board ships and head south, for example, toward the Griffish Isles under Stalliongrad’s control. And at the same time,” the green chip joined the blue one in the town, and together they slid along the road under the captain’s hoof toward the border, “the rest of us will break into the town and help the locals get to the provided corridor.”

“Seventy-five miles…” Big Beaver shook his head. “And the whole time the convoy will be out in the open… They don’t stand a chance.”

“Depends on how lucky they are and how much we draw the enemy’s attention away from them,” Dayandey said, touching the red chip. “Somepony will hold out, and that’s all that matters. Besides, the griffons themselves must realize the consequences of their actions. If they decide to commit such a genocide, and the truth comes out – and it will, because the Stalliongradians are on our side – then their governor will be in a lot of trouble—”

“That last one’s debatable,” interrupted the same jester on the right. “Who in the name of Celestia can influence these plucked chickens? Equestria? They’ve got enough to worry about. The Crystal? They’ve got an army of only two divisions guarding the capital… Commies? And who are we to them? Former oppressors turned refugees—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Silkworm replied. “It is no longer our concern. Tribunals are held after surrender, and we are not even technically at war with the Griffons. Not yet anyway. In general, the plan seems logical, but there are a few things that need to be clarified. First, what kind of provocation should we organize? Second, how do we get from the base to the ships and still have enough ponies to take them? Third, how do we warn the mayor of Village Up North so we can arrange to evacuate the town?”

“That’s all calculated as well,” Dayandey smiled. “A single grenade will be enough to get some of the griffons from the perimeter and the shipyard to the site. As soon as the first group makes fire contact, the second group in special suits will sneak through the sewers into the sea and board the ships, and the third group will break through the perimeter at another point and rush toward the town. And to warn the mayor, we’ll need magic. Specifically, a unicorn that can teleport a note several miles away with minimal error.”

For a moment there was silence in the office, followed by astonished whispers.

“How many of those suits do we have?” Big Beaver squinted. “Can a squad like this fight off even one ship?”

“As of today,” replied the chief of the rear service, wearing the commander’s epaulettes, “we have seventy-eight fully operational suits with masks and cylinders in our warehouses. I personally made an inventory today. Actually, there are eighty-four of them, but six of them are just scrap—”

“Good,” Silkworm nodded. “That’s settled. Next. Do we have enough equipment and weapons for enough fighters to reach the town? And… how many civilians can they take?”

“Twenty-four trucks and eighteen jeeps. That’s enough for the entire base contingent, and if only a part of them goes – let’s say about four hundred ponies – and everyone gets squeezed…” The rear chief thought, making mental calculations. “Then we’ll be able to take out about eight hundred more inhabitants on them. If we give preference to mares and foals, then about a thousand. The rest will have to come by wagon from the town or on their own four.”

“At least something,” Silkworm muttered.

“Yes, but where are we going to get a unicorn that can blindly send a piece of paper five miles away with an error of a few meters?” the officer to his right interjected again. “Or perhaps you could do it, Commodore?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” the base commander replied evenly. “If there are any more problems, we’ll discuss them in due time. Captain,” he turned to Dayandey, “you are in charge of working out the details of the plan. Beaver, distribute the order to the personnel and divide everypony into groups according to their roles. Provisions.” Silkworm lifted a hoof. “The first group is for volunteers only. The second is for those who have no family in the town. The third has no restrictions. That’s all, you may go. Commander Star, stay here, please.”

The officers left the office in low chatter. Only the critic who had asked the Commodore uncomfortable questions remained.

A blue-violet unicorn with the same light gray mane as Silkworm’s.

“You haven’t changed at all, Bright,” the commodore said when they were alone. “Tell me, does it still bother you that, unlike us, you were banished here from the warmth of Baltimare, which was then still Equestria? Or that it was Windy who testified against you and whom you failed to implicate in your plot?”

“Cut the lecture, Wormy,” Commander Bright Star grumbled, propping his hind legs up on the table. “You act like you’re the right… the model officer… but what about you, huh? Huh?! Not only have you taken over everything, but you’ve got your little brat in a good place.”

“You judge others by yourself. Unlike you, Windy and I have gotten to where we are by virtue of our abilities, not by bribery.” Silkworm gave him a stern look. “And we certainly wouldn’t sell rations and equipment on the black market.”

“Oh, you’re just gonna remember that forever or what…?” Bright frowned. “It’s all in the past, nothing to change. I thought I’d stay here in the north for a few years and then come back, retire, and do some business… But ‘cause of this damn war, we’re all stuck here! And what those winged bitches are fighting about—”

“Don’t you dare talk about the Princess like that in my presence.” The coldness in Silkworm’s voice would make even polar bears shudder. “Otherwise, like a naughty sailor, you’ll go to the brig until your brains are clear. You’d sell this base off brick by brick, but there’s a problem: we’re under siege! And it’s not money that’s being bargained for with the enemy. It’s lives. You wouldn’t put yours at stake, would you, cousin?”

For some reason, that last word pissed Bright off.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He jumped out of his chair and glared defiantly into Silkworm’s face. “Maybe you wanna die for the glory of your fucking homeland. But I don’t!” A blue hoof pointed at the Commodore. “Just so you know! I’ll outlive you! And when the war’s over, I’ll be sipping mojitos in a beach chair while you rot in the ground! Ate it, didn’t ya? So long, warrior…!”

Bright Star headed for the exit, slamming the door so hard the chandelier above the table shook.

Silkworm, staring after the commander, seemed to think hard. Then he used his magic to tear two pieces of paper: on one, he drew the head of a pony wearing a cap with a hole for a horn; on the other, he drew the head of a bird with a curved beak. He placed the first piece of paper on the map near the base, next to the chips, and the second on the circle representing the town.

As he looked at the map, Commodore Silkworm was thinking.

The semi-dark radio room was filled with a pale glow.

A piece of paper wrapped in a light field of telekinesis swirled above the desk, sparks and lightning dancing in the air. Large drops of sweat were visible on Wind Sprinkle’s forehead, but the unicorn gritted his teeth and continued to pour power into the spell.

Suddenly, the glittering outline disintegrated, spraying light in all directions. The unicorn leaned back in his chair, gulping air with his mouth wide open, and the note slowly floated down onto the tabletop.

The light blue hoof smacked against the hoofrest. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!”

Wind leaned forward and groaned, resting his horn on the table. His forehead prickled and his head felt fuzzy. This was common when one tried to cast some spell but failed.

Next to him lay an open book with a diagram of a magical weave. It was a standard advanced spell, available at the third power class. A unicorn of lesser strength could do such a trick, but it would be difficult and would drain his reserves almost completely.

Of course, Wind had learned some magic in high school and in the unicorn classes at the Naval Academy, but it wasn’t very complicated, mostly household and work spells. The petty officer didn’t know how to transform one object into another, let alone move it instantly. And he wouldn’t be able to either: it wouldn’t be useful to him in life and studying magical things had always been a boring occupation.

And now he was asked to do the impossible.

As it happened, Wind Sprinkle had the highest magical potential, according to the test held among the unicorns of the base that day, and it was he who had been entrusted with teleporting the evacuation warning letter to the mayor.

Why does everything have to be so complicated?! thought the petty officer, staring at the book and seeing… well, not what the confusing energy flow diagram was supposed to mean. If there was even one working radio in the town, we could just send a signal… But no, those fucking catbirds had taken care of everything! They searched everywhere, took away the radios, shut down the local newspaper. And even that we learned from the Stalliongradians! Fuck! I hate it!

An unexpected burst of anger gave him strength. The unicorn leapt up, keeping the weave in his head, and fired a bright flash from his horn at the waiting note.

The paper was bathed in light… and disappeared, leaving only a slowly fading glow.

Wind exhaled loudly and leaned back in his chair. It was as if a pool of lava had spilled over his head, and his whole body felt dizzy.

After sitting for a few minutes and getting back to normal, the petty officer suddenly smiled. His horn was numb, so he had to close the book his superiors had issued him from the library with his hoof.

The door creaked softly, drawing the unicorn’s attention.

“Hey, don’t come in here…” But when Wind saw who had entered, he immediately jumped up and stretched out. “Commodore—”

Silkworm just waved him away.

“Leave it. It’s just the two of us. I just wanted to see if you’re still awake.” The chief’s gaze fell on the table with the book and no note. “It finally worked, didn’t it?”

“Uh-huh,” Wind Sprinkle nodded, resting his hoof on the chair. “But it was frickin’ hard. Yeah, we could use a mage from the Canterlot school—”

“Well, the school’s been in Littlehorn Valley for about six months now, but I agree.” Silkworm was silent for a moment, glancing sideways at the younger pony. “Do you regret having chosen the town instead of the ships?”

“Oh, what’s the big deal,” Wind waved his hoof and sank back into his chair without asking permission. “Anyway, our destination will be Stalliongrad… or whatever they think their lands are. And then… ponies are more important than ships, aren’t they?”

“Yes, you’re right, son,” the commodore replied. “Ponies are always more important.”

“I’m more worried about you. You’re going to have the most dangerous part of the mission…”

“No danger is scary if you risk it for good.” Silkworm grinned, but then grew serious. “Besides, I’m not claiming the laurels of Cynosura, may her soul rest in the sea.” He stepped closer and put a hoof on Wind Sprinkle’s shoulder. “No matter what happens, I will be proud of you. Even if we don’t both have long to live.”

“Thanks, Dad.” The petty officer sighed. “Were there those who disagreed with the decision?”

“There were, but I tried to convince them. What’s the point of talking bullshit? We have no choice but to be killed or enslaved just because we are ponies. We are all different, yet united. It’s our survival strategy to stick together no matter what. At least mentally.”

“That’s true, but—” Wind shook his head. “Nopony’s perfect. And in circumstances like ours, the worst traits often come out. Say, that’s Uncle Bright, isn’t it? Is he stirring the pot as usual?”

“He’d have a hard time swallowing mud,” Silkworm sneered. “I can take care of him if I have to. After all, we’re under martial law, so I have all the power and responsibility. And my cousin has nothing to do with this. He can thank Celestia that I’ve given him some kind of appointment, even with his past… He’d probably sell the Princess, too,” the commodore said sadly, “if there was any profit to be made.”

“I can’t believe someone could care so little about anypony but himself,” Wind Sprinkle said. “Blow it down his throat, he’s taken an oath—”

“You know, he’s quite understandable,” Silkworm said thoughtfully. “After all, everypony has an instinct for self-preservation, and Bright is simply acting as his biology dictates. An oath is just words, a breath of air taken once and forgotten the next second. And only we, naive morons, truly believe in it and lay down our lives for the good of others, transcending our own cowardly selves to form a common, unwavering ‘we.’

“Do you know why? It’s all about the ratio of how much a particular pony values himself and everyone else. Put common goals in the numerator of the fraction and personal goals in the denominator and you get what he is by the standards of society. Flip it over and you get what he thinks he is. And that’s normal for an ordinary pony in peacetime. But now, when the fate of the whole settlement depends on our unity, it’s kind of… useless to put your own life first.

“But don’t worry so much about him. It happens that even the most cowardly and selfish fools become different in the face of the Grim Reaper and behave in ways they would never do in normal life. Who knows how things might be tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Wind snorted softly, “that’s reassuring. I think I’ll sleep like a log tonight.”

The commodore patted him on the shoulder and headed for the exit.

When he was already at the door, he asked, “When is your shift change?”

“In seventeen minutes. Then I’ll take a shower and go to bed.”

“You can relax tonight. Get a mare in the mess hall and have some fun with her somewhere private. Permission granted. Because who knows, you may never get another chance like this.”

“I’ll think of something,” the younger unicorn grinned.

As the door closed behind Silkworm, Wind Sprinkle looked out the window again.

In the light of the rising moon, the outlines of buildings could be seen in the distance. A settlement left to its fate, along with those unfortunate enough to live in it.

And those who had to protect it.

And in the morning, it became clear that the whole plan had gone to Discord.

The body of the second operator was found in the radio room.

“When did this happen?” Commodore Silkworm asked the medic who was examining the body lying on the floor. “And most importantly, how?”

“Strangled," the medic replied nonchalantly, pointing to a thin groove in the dead pony’s throat. “With something thin and solid, most likely a cable or wire. Judging by the rigor mortis and other signs, it was about midnight, give or take a few hours.”

“I see.” The chief gnashed his teeth and turned to Big Beaver. “Question the sentries guarding the approaches to this part of the base. Then all the officers involved in the development of the plan.”

“And what about your son, Commodore?” Bright Star grinned wickedly from the sidelines. “Maybe he’s the one who’s gone rogue, covering up some of his own affairs, hmm?”

Wind Sprinkle, who was standing nearby, shot his uncle an angry look.

“Don’t speculate, Commander,” Silkworm said, “you’re under suspicion too. Take the body away,” he ordered the sailors guarding him and looked at his son. “Petty Officer Sprinkle, contact Arctichik. Immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” The pale blue unicorn saluted and, after waiting for his colleague’s body to be dragged away, took a seat at the radio. “Heron, Heron, this is Wind, roger.”

“I hear you, Wind,” came the voice through a cloud of interference. “What happened? There was a communication session last night when you refused to help… Over.”

“It’s a dark story,” the petty officer spoke into the microphone and looked back at Silkworm. “You have been misled. The corridor is needed and will be used today. You promised not to close it… Roger?”

“Roger that, Wind. The orders will be changed. Over and out.”

Wind Sprinkle flicked the switch and turned to his father, who was listening intently to the conversation along with the other officers.

“Apparently, he was forced to transmit a message of rejection and then strangled,” the petty officer said slowly. “And it was done by someone who knew the plans and wanted them to fail.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Silkworm said. “I hope we have a couple of extra hours—”

“Commodore!”

Everypony turned around. On the threshold of the radio room, breathing heavily, stood a sailor with a rifle.

“The Griffons have sent a delegation to the main gate. They demand you,” he reported. “In person. They said it was urgent—”

“Let’s go,” Silkworm said and glanced at his retinue. “Take the weapons in the armory. Who knows what those feathered critters are up to… Wind, go to your group. Everything stays on schedule.”

“Are you serious, Commodore?” Big Beaver frowned. “What about the investigation?”

“Later. We’ll deal with problems in order of importance. Now follow me, march on.”

…There was indeed a group of griffons waiting at the gate in the high wall surrounding the base; all as one, clad in black armor and carrying huge R1/6 rifles. The leader of the group appeared to be a light brown catbird, who was pacing from side to side under the watchful eyes of the sentries.

At the sight of Silkworm and his entourage, his beak opened in a vicious grin.

“Finally!” he barked, glaring down at the commodore. “I thought you weren’t interested in what’s going on in the town.”

“And what is it?” the commodore asked evenly, although he was visibly tense.

The griffon laughed briefly. “To begin with, the town is surrounded by tanks. And all the inhabitants are herded into the central square and held at gunpoint. A little more – and our fighters will lose their patience. It’s hard to hold back this crowd of screaming assholes—”

“We had an agreement,” Silkworm said in an icy voice. “We stay on the base and don’t try anything, and in return, you don’t touch us or the ponies of Village Up North—”

“Things have changed,” snorted the griffon. The barrel of his huge rifle was pointed straight at the commodore’s chest. “Surrender and none of these morons will get hurt. If you try anything, there won’t be any bones left of you or them.”

“You’d better agree, brother,” Bright Star’s voice spoke into his ear, and Silkworm felt the pistol pressed against the back of his head. “You’ve always been an idealistic fool; and look where it got you. Not just you, but twenty thousand other ponies… You’re not gonna let them all die just to play the hero one last time, are you?”

Everypony, officers and sailors alike, raised their weapons and aimed at the bluish-purple unicorn. But there was no hurry to shoot: the pistol floating in a cloud of telekinesis was like a sword hanging over the fate of their leader.

“Get back!” Bright Star shouted. “Or I’ll blow his head off!”

Suddenly, a giggle was heard.

It was Silkworm, chuckling quietly at something.

“What’s so funny, you idiot?!”

“It’s all clear to me now,” the commodore said in a low voice. “Was it worth it, Bright? Betraying not only all of us, your shipmates, but a lot of innocent ponies for a moment’s profit? You realize that no one will give you anything for it, just end you like everyone else…?”

“Shut up!” Bright Star hissed. “You don’t know anything in this life, except to tear your ass up for the Equestrian flag, serving your stupid principles…!”

“You don’t seem to have any,” Silkworm countered. “I only pity the guy you strangled with the cable. Didn’t your hoof even flinch?”

“Enough.”

The muzzle of the giant rifle went straight into the commodore's mouth, knocking out his front teeth.

“That’s it,” the griffon hissed, clutching the weapon in his paws. “Either you surrender now, or we give the order to destroy the town.” He looked around and one of his subordinates pulled out a rocket launcher. “With a green flare.”

The griffon smirked, noticing how pale the already white-coated pony had turned.

According to the plan, a copy of which Wind Sprinkle had teleported to the mayor's house, a green flare meant that the sailors were on their way to the town to help with the evacuation. And now, if the Equestrians decided to warn their own, they would thereby give the enemy carte blanche for total slaughter.

And if the Griffons found out about it, that meant the whole plan was off.

As presented to the other officers by Captain Dayandey. Who was not among those who went to the gate.

“We also know about your sewer adventure and that you were preparing a diversion,” the catbird ranted smugly, leaning over to the commodore and looking him in the eye. “How naive. Did you think we’d be so easily fooled by three threats at once? Well, you’d be wrong. Our fighters keep a close eye on everything on the ships, and if a single suction-cup hoof appears above the waterline, it will take so many bullets that it will never surface again. You won’t be able to get to the town anyway. The roads to the base and the Stalliongrad border are booby-trapped for miles. So you have no choice but to die here. All of you.”

Suddenly, Silkworm spat out the barrel of his rifle, along with blood and a few teeth – and grinned.

“And you thought we hadn’t foreseen all this?”

The griffon’s muzzle showed confusion. The commodore’s grin only widened.

“Tell me, did you have any other flares in your plan?”

“What are you talking about?” the catbird asked threateningly.

“Kapitän, sehen Sie!”[1] one of his subordinates shouted behind his back.

Turning his head so that he could keep one eye on the pony, the griffon looked back and froze with an open beak.

Moreover, the others were also staring at the sky north of the base.

A red column of smoke was rising above the North Village.

The griffon turned back to Silkworm. The catbird’s eyes blazed with anger.

“That’s it, you’re dead—”

“FIRE!!!”

Bright Star’s pistol blew the commodore’s brains out, cutting off his roar and throwing him to the ground.

Bright himself was immediately riddled by the rifles of Big Beaver and the other officers.

The griffons had no time to fire. They were mowed down in an instant by a machine-gun burst from one of the buildings.

And over the base itself, white smoke billowed upward. Captain Dayandey, who was standing nearby and had heard the whole conversation, dropped his own rocket launcher from his teeth.

The red smoke from the town meant that the civilians themselves had begun to flee – and yet they desperately needed help. If one took what the griffon ambassador said at face value, it looked like the truth.

The white rocket (as well as the green one) said that the sailors were moving on. And in the note, it was marked as the main signal from the base.

The chief of operations sighed. He and Silkworm had put a lot of work into creating a plan with a double bottom in case any of the participants betrayed them. But unfortunately, this was not an option they had been able to foresee.

The griffons guarding the perimeter soared into the air – only to fall to the ground one by one, cut down by the flurry of machine gun fire. And they had no time to aim and shoot the gunner; as they spread their wings and swooped toward the building, they were shot down like ducks by accurate rifle shots.

Meanwhile, the firing could be heard from the pier. A little later came a loud ship’s horn.

“Didn’t expect us to think two steps ahead?!” Dayandey yelled, raising his head to the sky where the griffons were struggling to escape the barrage of fire. “We weren’t going to sneak into the ships now – because we did it at night! And even if the road had been mined a thousand times, we still weren’t going to drive on it…!”

“Enough talk! To the cars!” Big Beaver ordered as the convoy of trucks and jeeps came around the corner of the building.

Everypony began jumping into the backs of the trucks and into the seats, with those who had not yet been loaded and those who were already seated covering those whose turn it was to get in.

A griffon’s rifle shot rang out, and the truck in the middle of the column burst into flames. The ponies began to leap from the burning vehicle, and the gunner, hiding behind the wall, was pelted with lead from the air by pegasi.

But the loss was significant.

“Damn!” Big Beaver roared, looking out the cabin window of the second truck. “So many fewer ponies we’ll be able to move…”

“As long as there’s any left,” Dayandey whispered, sitting in the third truck.

Dad… Wind Sprinkle thought as his truck passed the bodies of Bright Star and Silkworm lying on the ground. Cousins who had died because of the betrayal of one – and the completely unnecessary sacrifice of the other.

The griffons all seemed to have left to fight for the ships. One by one, the horns sounded, but the gunfire from the sea continued unabated.

The slightly reduced convoy rolled out of the gate and, after driving a quarter mile east to avoid mines, raced at full speed toward Village Up North.

To rescue any survivors there.

…They were too late.

The red smoke from the flare had almost dissipated as the trucks and jeeps sped across the countryside toward the town – which was now falling to ruin by the minute.

The griffon at the gate hadn’t lied. There were indeed a few dark brown tanks here and there, shelling houses, and between the explosions the dry crackle of rifles could be heard as the catbirds fired on the survivors from the air.

To the west of the settlement, the road was littered with bodies and wrecked cars. Apparently, those who had tried to escape that way had been blown up by mines. The others were either still in the town or had miraculously escaped in private vehicles. Though it was hard to believe, the Griffons could have sent a few fighters and shot the refugees from the air.

The convoy spread out. Some of the trucks and almost all of the jeeps went off to the side to try to enter the town from the east, the rest continued from the south.

One of the tanks rolling around the southern edge (huge, like everything Griffonian) turned its turret on the approaching Equestrians and fired a couple of shells. Fountains of earth shot up, but none of the vehicles disappeared in a flash of flame. They all moved inexorably forward, winding their way through the roadless terrain.

The tank fired again, but then the southern part of the column split in two, coming from both sides. The turret aimed at one of the trucks on the right – but from the left, a precisely thrown bundle of grenades flew and hung on the barrel.

BOOM! The tank’s turret was actually blown off; it spun around and stopped, smoke billowing from its torn top.

Another bunch of grenades landed right under the tracks. BOOM! – and all that remained of the formidable fighting machine was a burning pile of scrap metal, in which the griffon crew was roasting alive.

The Equestrians didn’t stop to take them out. By turning against civilians, the catbirds had signed their own death warrant and made themselves a legitimate target.

After traveling the rest of the way, the cars entered the town from two directions.

Village Up North was now a grim sight. Many houses were in ruins, with fires burning in some places. Armed griffons flew everywhere, hunting down the villagers. The streets were littered with corpses, more and more as they approached the center.

The trucks split up and rolled down the streets.

“…Here!” Wind Sprinkle waved to a mare and colt hiding around the corner of a house.

They ran toward them, and the car slowed to a stop.

“Danger!” someone shouted, pointing to the sky.

A winged figure appeared above the rooftops, already aiming the long barrel of his weapon.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! – the rifles of the Equestrians rumbled, and the griffon chose to hide in the urban sprawl.

At the same time, the citizens began to crawl out into the streets, hiding wherever they could: under drainpipes, in back alleys, among the trees.

Some were wounded; others were dragging the body of a dead relative behind them. But what united them all was fear. They were all shitless with terror – of the pain and death that had enveloped the town right before their eyes, but most of all of the unknown that hung like a sword over their fates.

The pale blue unicorn exhaled sharply through his teeth. All this blood was new to him. The last war he’d ever heard of had happened in Severyana when he was a child.

Until a few years ago, when he had gone to a remote base, it had seemed that he would just ride it out, then return to Equestria, train as an officer, and soon retire…

To Discord. No time for regrets. Let’s go save the civilians.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry!”

“Mares and foals first…”

“Make some room, come on!”

They crammed as many as they could into the back of the truck, shooting at the flying griffons as they went. Two, a sailor and a filly, had been killed and thrown out like bags of bones to make room for the survivors.

Even so, they were too many.

Wind Sprinkle’s gaze fell on the overturned wagon lying in the alley between the houses. And then something clicked in the petty officer’s mind.

“Wagons…” he murmured, then shouted at the top of his lungs, “Get in the wagons! You’ll follow!”

Thank Celestia, there were four more wagons on the road, more or less running. Crammed in like apples in a barrel, the ponies somehow managed to fit. There’ll be more, the unicorn thought.

Somepony threw a rope, and the front of the wagon was hooked to the back of the truck. They also tried to connect the rest of the wagons somehow. No matter how strong the local stallions were, they could hardly run seventy miles at the speed of a car.

The truck sped down the street and turned toward the main square.

Already driving up the blood-soaked surface, Wind could see what was happening in the gap between the houses. At least half the sailors, not to mention the civilians, could barely hold their stomachs. The coppery smell of blood and bitter smoke made them dizzy. It was like the whole place was mutely screaming: this is no longer a place to live. This is a place to die.

Finally, the truck pulled into the square.

Oh, what a mistake this had been…

Wind Sprinkle had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from vomiting. Judging by the distinctive sounds, not everypony managed to do the same.

There was just a sea of bodies.

Shot with rifles. Torn to pieces by shells – the impact must have been right in the cluster of ponies. Crushed by something heavy – probably the tracks of heavy equipment.

And worst of all, there were still living bodies in the mountains of the dead. And there was no way to get them out.

And when the unicorn opened his eyes, he realized that corpses were not the worst of all evils.

In the center of the square, obviously rolled through the broken and shot houses, stood a tank. On its brown side was clearly visible the emblem of Nova Griffonia: a bird’s paw clutching a lightning bolt.

And the turret was pointed directly at the truck.

Wind didn’t even have time to breathe. The truck veered sharply to the side. There was a deafening rumble, and the building behind them exploded in a rain of stone and brick shards.

“Get down! Get down…!” the petty officer shouted, not even hoping to be heard.

His own voice echoed in his ears as if through a thick veil. For a moment, the unicorn even thought that up and down, right and left were gone. There was only a blurred space filled with the suffocating stench of death.

And then the truck bounced over the corpse, and Wind came to his senses.

“Let’s go! Come on! Keep moving!” someone yelled, probably the lieutenant in the back of the truck with them.

The car sped past the tank toward the breach, where open ground lay behind the ruined houses. There were too many bodies there, and the truck was just crushing them as it moved toward the rescue.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wind noticed other vehicles, either passing through the square as well, or detouring through the neighboring streets.

And above it all, the griffons hovered.

As soon as the smoke cleared, they took aim at the trucks and jeeps and civilian vans following. The ponies fired back – but still they fell one by one. And they were thrown out, their weapons passed to the locals. Whatever it took to save these ponies.

Wind Sprinkle saw a barely alive filly crawl out of the pile of corpses. Her mouth was hanging open as she stared at her mother, whose entire abdomen had been blown off by the explosion. BANG! – and the little pony, with a huge hole in her back, fell face down on her mother’s motionless chest.

The griffon reloaded his rifle and took aim at the vans rolling behind the truck. Where unarmed, peaceful ponies huddled under the tarps.

The petty officer went cold. Would he be powerless to protect them? Had his father sacrificed himself for nothing?

You’re a fucking unicorn! Do something!

Wind snarled through clenched teeth. His horn flared brightly.

The griffon fired – but the huge fourteen-millimeter bullet bounced off the translucent pale blue shield that loomed over the horrified ponies.

“Cover him! Come on!”

The rifles clicked, and the catbird, his throat pierced, plummeted to the ground. His broken body hung from the barrel of the tank.

BOOM!

Smoke billowed from the nearest building on the left, revealing its interior. The driver immediately turned to the side – and drove into the gap the tank had made. A few ruined streets flashed by, and then the truck burst into the open.

Right in the crosshairs of the two tanks shelling the town from the north.

“Grab hold!” Wind blew away his shield and hoofed the side of the truck.

Just in time, the driver stepped on the gas, and the truck sped across the uneven field at full speed, escaping the deadly glare of the tanks’ guns. The wagons hitched behind shook so hard they seemed to tear away.

Wrecked wagons and mashed bodies could be seen all around. Obviously, nopony had managed to leave the town. And now was their only chance to clear a path for survivors.

BOOM! BOOM!

The tanks began firing at the vehicles. No matter how hard Wind tried to squeeze his eyes shut, he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder.

And his heart was immediately clenched by a cold clawed paw.

Trucks and jeeps scattered across the field, driving away from the town and the mined road. The tanks couldn’t get all the targets in their sights at once – but some of them…

One of the jeeps flew up sharply and somersaulted through the air, scattering the passengers. The cable holding one of the distant trucks and the civilian wagon together snapped. The wagon skidded to a halt – and then the tracks of the heavy tank rolled over it.

Wind Sprinkle gulped and turned away. He couldn’t watch those they’d sworn to save die trapped by circumstance. There weren’t many left as it was – two dozen trucks and about the same number of jeeps and vans were unlikely to carry even a thousand ponies out of the town, considering the sailors needed the space themselves. And nineteen thousand stayed there forever. And good if they were in one piece.

The unicorn couldn’t remember how long this death race had lasted. In an instant, there were no more tanks or griffons on the horizon, and the sounds of gunfire faded into the distance. Only the roar of the engine, the squeaking of the axles, and the rustle of the wheels on the grass reached his ears. The road was visible to the left, but the Equestrians did not dare approach it: who knows how far the minefield stretched.

Gradually, everypony began to ease up. Despite the crowd, despite the bandaged wounds and the vomit-stained floor, the ponies were no longer in the terrible tension that had dominated the base and the town that morning. Now they were free.

“Don’t get too excited yet,” the lieutenant muttered. “When we reach the border, we’ll take a break. For now, keep your eyes open.”

What’s there to be happy about? Wind thought. His cheekbones twisted. That we let those bastards kill so many ponies? Or the fact that we’re leaving them a captured territory while we bolt to save our lives? The only good thing about this is that we're still alive. And help us Celestia, we will remain so.

The petty officer looked ahead at the plain that stretched in all directions. Somewhere out there, miles away, was the border. He could only hope that the Severyan border guards would keep their word, and actually open a safe corridor across the river that separated the regions.

Then the unicorn’s gaze turned south, toward the abandoned base. Had the other group managed to get the ships away, as Dust Hoover and Cynosura had done from Baltimare in November? His heart told him they must have; there was a reason the double-bottom plan had been so carefully prepared.

Wind’s face darkened as he thought of Silkworm.

Dad… Whatever happens, know that your sacrifice was not in vain. Perhaps we did the best we could. I promise, we will avenge you. The Griffons will regret coming to Village Up North a hundred times over.

The group of cars sped off into the distance like a pack of strange animals, leaving their former staging area. They were going to a place where everything was supposed to be all right. Or at least where they wouldn’t be forgotten.

The drive was fast, so they covered most of the distance in a couple of hours. The road curved in an irregular S, following the coastline, so they decided to bend the route to approach Arctichik from the north instead of the east.

No one was chasing them – or maybe just couldn’t catch up. And that already made them feel calmer. The task of crossing the river still lay ahead, but for now, everypony was getting used to the fact that the griffons and their atrocities had been left behind in Village Up North, which was now a mere memory.

The River Up North turned sharply south toward the border town, and the convoy headed that way. From the high bank, there was a magnificent view of the green fields on the other side, where the territory of Stalliongrad began, and far to the west, beyond the bend, one could see the caps of forests that belonged to Nova Griffonia. Some of them had been assigned to Equestria in the past, but now it looked like these lands would have to be relinquished forever.

Wind Sprinkle looked carefully at the border posts. According to his unnamed interlocutor, since Stalliongrad had not recognized the annexation of Village Up North, the griffons had not risked conflict with the Communists and had not garrisoned the river. The only exception was a post on the road to Arctichik, where a bridge crossed the river, and the Griffons controlled the approaches to it. So it was necessary to find the Severyan military and their promised “corridor” before reaching there. For it became clear that if they went back to the road and got close to the bridge, the catbirds would not let the refugees out.

But so far, the only thing visible from that side was an endless fence of posts with barbed wire stretched between them.

The petty officer turned away from the bank and shook his head. He caught a foal’s confused look and smiled encouragingly at him.

At last, all the horrors are behind us. We’ll cross the river and return to a peaceful life, at least for a while…

Suddenly he broke off the thought and raised his head to the sky. An uneasiness began to brew in his soul.

The others also looked up and pricked up their ears. Soon there was indeed a noise to be heard. That would have been all right, but when Wind realized what it was, a shiver ran down his spine.

For one thing, the sound was coming from the north.

And two, it was the sound of approaching airplanes.

“Stop!” the lieutenant yelled, and the driver slammed on the brakes. The other trucks stopped as well. “Everypony out! Take cover behind the hillside!”

“Attention, ponies!” came from the next car in front. “Cross the river!”

Buck, why didn’t we do this when we got here?! Wind thought, gritting his teeth as he jumped out of the truck and slid down the steep slope with the foals. No, we were hoping they’d be waiting for us… We drooled and the griffons found us from the air…

“Get down!” he yelled to the little ponies.

As they all rolled together to the water’s edge, the petty officer was the first to press himself into the sand – actually riding the last few meters on his belly. I’ll have to wash my uniform later, came the thought, immediately swept away by anger, What the hay am I thinking about that now…?

And then there was an eerie, chilling whistle that made his heart freeze for a second.

That’s gonna be loud… the unicorn had time to think. He opened his mouth and covered his ears…

And all hell broke loose.

Aircraft bombs exploded on the bank, hurling the charred wreckage of cars down the hillside into the river. The ground was literally shaking, and Wind could feel the loose sand jets under his clothes. What if we get caught in a landslide? No, no, to the hay! We’ll survive! We’ll surely survive…!

The bomb plunged into the river, sending a huge wave of water over them. Wind held his breath and felt himself slip into the river as the spray struck him.

His hooves hit the river bottom and he jumped up, then shook himself off, sniffing and spitting. His darting gaze fell on the river, and the stallion’s breath caught.

The foals beside him had no special training, and they weighed much less, so the wave had easily pulled them farther away. Now they were floundering about thirty feet from shore. A little more and they would all be down.

Without a second’s hesitation, Wind threw off his blue uniform, leaving only his striped jersey, and plunged into the river. The foals were swept away by the current, and it took some effort to reach them. Several heads were already underwater. The petty officer took in more air and dove into the blue-green, semi-transparent depths.

Four or five light and dark spots stood out against the water. Wind swam up to them, wrapped his front legs around two of them and grabbed another by the neck with his teeth. Flailing his legs as hard as he could, he surfaced and headed back to shore. He looked away and breathed a sigh of relief: the rest of the foals were already being pulled out by other sailors.

His leg suddenly cramped, and the unicorn hissed through his teeth. Wind reached the shore and passed the colts, who had swallowed some water, to the other ponies, then rolled onto his back and began to rub his knotted muscles.

The roar of the bombers had faded into the distance, and now only the burning cars at the top of the bank were a reminder of another barbaric attack by the griffons.

“Hey!” came a sudden yell. “Look! Over there!”

Wind pulled himself up and looked at the opposite bank. And what he saw made his heart pound even harder.

Trucks were coming up the low slope, the same murky green color as the Equestrians, but a little different in shape. The ponies coming out of the trucks quickly cut some wire between the poles and with shovels smoothed the top of the slope a little. Then the three trucks began to back up toward the river.

Pontoons! Wind realized. They’re going to make a pontoon crossing!

Without apparent haste, but with remarkable agility, the Stalliongradians deployed six inflatable pontoons and launched the three tugboats that would help tie them together. Finally, when the ferry was ready, two of the boats were pulled back to shore, and the third, towed to the side of the ferry, smoked a short pipe and dragged the whole structure straight across the River Up North.

Equestrian sailors and civilians greeted it with shouts of joy.

They’ve come, Wind thought, jumping up and down and waving his hooves with the others. But his mind was still on the Griffon bombers – what if they came back?

Although… That’s kind of weird. Okay, Equestria can’t answer anything – but Stalliongrad… They wouldn’t dare clash with the General Secretary and his army…

So far, though, things were not that bad. And instead of fear, hope blossomed in the petty officer’s soul.

Soon the ferry reached the shore. On the front pontoon stood three military ponies in pale brown uniforms.

“Come in groups of several!” shouted one of them in a loud voice in good Equestrian. “Mares and foals to the front, the rest to the rear! Weapons with you but unloaded!”

Gradually, the refugees began to load onto the ferry. Wind Sprinkle was one of the last to board. By this time, there was a huge, huddled crowd on the pontoons – after all, several hundred ponies took up a lot of space.

When everypony was more or less settled, the border guard climbed up on some superstructure on the boat.

“Soon you will all be on the territory of the Severyan Soviet Socialist Republic!” he announced loudly. “Please do not panic and follow our instructions! You will all be provided with food and temporary shelter, after which you can either stay in the SSSR or leave for the Crystal Empire. Ponies should help each other, right?”

The crowd responded with a roar of approval.

“Well done! Now let’s get started!”

The boat with the attached pontoons set off, heading for the Stalliongrad shore.

But as the ferry passed the halfway point, Wind Sprinkle’s heart twitched.

The bomber’s roar came back to his ears.

“Full speed ahead!” the border guard leader shouted to the helmsman. “Don’t stop—”

His words were drowned in a soul-crushing whistle.

The bombs began to fall into the river further downstream, sending up huge waves of spray. The pontoon rocked on the surface, and for the first time Wind realized with horror that he didn’t know what to do next.

And then the bomb flew right into the ferry.

The explosion threw the unicorn and the crowd around him into the river. Water immediately poured into his nose and mouth, and his ears were completely blocked.

His body no longer obeyed. He couldn’t move his leg or neck; he couldn’t even breathe out.

And yet… we were so close… Petty Officer Wind Sprinkle thought and closed his eyes.

Time ceased to exist, dissolving into a cold, dark abyss.

And there was nothing else. Nothing at all.

As if someone had turned off the lights and sucked out all the air.

May 5

“Clear!”

A stallion in camouflage and helmet emerged from a ramshackle house that had apparently had half its roof blown off by a shell.

Another dozen fighters had scattered down the street. With guns drawn, they searched every corner of the village, trying to clear it of the Lunar Army soldiers and the mines and booby traps they had surely planted.

As it happened, the enemy forces had recently retreated unexpectedly from the section of the front northeast of Canterlot. The Equestrians had taken advantage of this, and their advance party was just clearing out the village of Butters, which had gotten in their way.

The only problem was that there was no one to clean it up: after an hour of wandering the streets, the soldiers hadn’t found a single Equermacht soldier. There were no activated mines either; even the four tripwires that the Equestrians had found had been made in plain sight, as if on purpose.

What there was in abundance were the corpses.

The corpses of the inhabitants of this place were lying everywhere in the most unnatural positions. Almost all of them had been barbarously shot; but some of them had been specially treated by unknown (though, come to think of it, very well known) villains.

An old stallion had his skull crushed by something, probably rifle butts. A young mare had her eyes torn out and shoved under her scorched, blackened tail, making the frozen stare of the eyeballs one above the other look truly gruesome. Another pony was literally hacked to pieces with razor wire.

And there were many more examples like this. It was as if some unimaginable evil had rolled over Butters with a merciless roller and thoroughly exterminated all the living here, deliberately ignoring the buildings.

And in the central square, the Equestrian squad was surprised by an elaborate installation: a garland of foals strung on a long metal pin threaded through their ribcages. The little ponies’ eyes were open, and their mouths, their cheeks cut almost to the back of their heads, were open in a silent scream that seemed to still ring out over the dead village.

“Holy Celestia, what were they doing here?” the unit commander muttered, turning away from the horrible sight and looking at the approaching soldiers. Many of them, judging by the marks on their faces, had already emptied their stomachs, and even more than once. “All right, guys, we have one house left. Let’s check it out and get the hay outta here. Let the military prosecution deal with this shit.”

Trying not to look at the elaborate street “decorations,” the soldiers habitually surrounded the one-story municipal building. One of the troopers cautiously opened the door with a bayonet and rolled a stone inside to trigger a possible tripwire.

But nothing followed. The ominous house remained as silent as ever, and for a moment the commander even wished that something had happened. That for once there was an enemy to shoot or capture, and then, and then to find out what, in the name of everything, those sick perverts had done to the once peaceful and prosperous place.

The house was dark inside: the shuttered windows let in little sunlight, so the soldiers took out flashlights and attached them to their helmets. Slowly, ready to fire at the first sign of movement, and searching under their hooves for tripwires, the ponies began to enter the house one by one.

The first thing they looked at was the ceiling, where pegasi or batponies might be lurking. But no: the white plaster was just riddled with bullets and splattered with blood. Then the beams revealed the figure of a pony.

It was probably the mayor of the village. And now he was hanging from a huge nail that had been hammered straight through his head into the lintel above the entrance to the other room. And to the side of the dead stallion was a patch pinned to the wall with a dagger: a white four-rayed star in a black circle with a purple-blue flame in the center.

“Some battalion of those bastards has done some work,” the commander whispered. “They love this kind of ostentatious action—”

“It’s clear,” one of the soldiers reported just as quietly, peering out of the second room. “We found a hatch to the basement under the carpet. Just need to look there – and that’s all—”

“Let’s go.”

They went into the next room, where there was indeed a hatch; the crumpled carpet lay against the far wall. Two unicorn soldiers were just about to have a go at the heavy wooden lid with their telekinesis.

“On the count of three,” the commander ordered. “Anything moves out of there – fire on sight. Okay, one… two… three!”

The magically hinged hatch cover slammed loudly to the floor.

The flashlight beams instantly dove into the square hole. Out of the darkness, in a bright spot, they picked out a gray thestral touching some sort of taut wire with its fangs. The winged pony grinned viciously; the pupils of his bright eyes narrowed to barely discernible slits. He was unarmed – but if that meant anything now.

A huge bundle of dynamite was strapped to his body.

The flashlights flickered, revealing the mountains of explosives that filled the cellar to the brim.

“Aim for the head…!” shouted the commander.

One bullet hit the thestral in the chest, another in the neck, but he managed to growl hoarsely and bite the wire, the ends of which went into the walls.

And all was drowned in a rumble and a huge cloud of flame.

The earth and shapeless debris exploded in a fountain at the site of the building. And at the same time, the rest of the village exploded.

Water barrels, the basements of some houses, even a small water tower – everything was packed with explosives and connected by a system of underground cables attached to fuses. One movement – and sparks flew from the embedded crystals, blowing everything into the air.

For a few seconds, the entire village was transformed into a great flower of fire, blossoming in its brief and deadly bloom.

Then the flames faded, leaving only black smoke. And in its clouds, at times, only charred piles of debris and ashes could be seen. Very, very much ashes.

There was almost nothing left of the bodies. No doubt, whoever had committed all these atrocities was skilled at covering up traces that could be presented as evidence of their crimes.

Equestria Nightly, May 6.

MASSACRE IN BUTTERS! EQUESTRIAN ARMY HAS SHOWN ITS TRUE FACE!

As has become abundantly clear, the so-called harmonic army of the outlaw celestia massacred the village of Butters, northwest of Canterlot, in the early days of May. Recall that this area had recently been temporarily occupied by the Solars in a “meat” raid with heavy casualties – and apparently, they had decided to punish the local population for supporting the power of the Immortal Horsecoacher.

As our war correspondents managed to find out, the Equestrian soldiers were involved in mass murder (including of foals), rape, pedofoalia and necrophilia, as well as looting and vandalism. Some images cannot be published for ethical reasons, so the article illustrations reflect only the mildest cases.

But that is not all. To cover their crimes, the Equestrians rounded up the survivors, distributed them among the surviving houses, one pony per building, and filled the rooms with dynamite before leaving, detonating the charges at once. When the brave soldiers of the Equermacht recaptured the village in the course of a large-scale counterattack, they found only ashes, hulks of houses, and charred corpses (photos attached).

Thus, in literally one day, a village with a pre-war population of a thousand ponies was wiped from the face of Equus, all on the direct orders of a white-horned creature wearing a crown of fake gold! (See “The Clown’s Crown: A Canterlot Jeweler’s Exposé,” page 12).

Immortal Horsecoacher Luna calls on all the ponies of the free world to unite and stand against the threat of Equestria! The ponies of Vanhoover and Appleloosa, Crystal City and Stalliongrad, the River Federation, Mareland, and Chiropterra! Only together can we defeat the alicorn dictator in the high castle, only together can we create a new and better world order, based on rules, under the Lunar banner! Open your eyes and see what you have been turning your backs on for exactly six months! Canterlot must be destroyed!

*

Equestria Daily, May 6.

Changelings Claims Their States

The leader of Olenia, King Johan Jelzek “Djävulen,” has received an urgent demand from Queen Chrysalis that the Deer grant the Changelings the right of passage through their territory and effectively become their protectorate. According to Queen Chrysalis, Olenia occupies strategically advantageous lands and lies within the Changelings’ sphere of interest.

Representatives of Equestria have called these claims outrageous and have threatened the Kingdom of the Changelings with economic measures and strict border controls. King Johan has yet to make an official statement regarding the situation…

*

Canterlot Times, May 7.

Batpony Murder at the School of Friendship!

We have just received the unfortunate news that a thestral colt recently enrolled at Princess Twilight Sparkle’s School of Friendship, which had been relocated from Ponyville to Littlehorn due to the war, has been found dead in a park near the facility.

The body bore numerous bludgeoning marks, suggesting a racially motivated crime. Unfortunately, neither ponice nor the school administration have given us any comment, and the parents of the deceased student could not be contacted. An investigation is underway…

*

Severyanskaya Pravda, May 8.

…Four days ago, Nova Griffonia committed the worst act of genocide on Equus since the Equestrian invasion of Severyana.

Recall that last November, Governor Teafeather took advantage of the Equestrian civil war to illegally occupy their strategically important province Village Up North, which housed the naval base and its satellite town. Equestrian sailors were locked at the base, and the town was under the full control of the Griffons. However, the ships were not withdrawn from the port, which was apparently a condition of the ceasefire between the parties.

Nevertheless, in order to force the base to surrender, the Griffons took twenty thousand of the town's residents hostage – but, unable to contain them, began mass shootings (including the use of tanks). Equestrian sailors managed to break the ring of the blockade. One group repelled the ships and moved towards the Griffish Isles, while another group went to rescue the civilians.

According to estimates, they managed to take out of the town about a thousand ponies and move towards the SSSR state border, where our troops had already prepared a corridor for refugees. But the Griffons did not rest easy: on the bank of the River Up North they launched a massive bombing attack on the convoy, and when the crossing began, they destroyed the ferry carrying the rescued ponies. Fighter planes raised on alarm managed to catch up with and shoot down one of the bombers, but the fact remains that only fourteen of the 20,790 ponies that used to inhabit the region are still alive. The survivors are receiving medical attention and an emergency meeting of the Supreme Soviet will decide whether to grant them asylum.

During the operation three Severyan border guards were also killed; all of them have been postmortem awarded the Order of the Red Banner. At the same time, the final strike hit the military and the territory of the SSSR, which could be a reason to declare war on Nova Griffonia.

Despite this, the Party and government are taking measured steps. The Supreme Court of Severyana issued arrest warrants and put Governor Teafeather and Marshal Erwin Highhill on the wanted list. Comrade Wheatin, General Secretary of the Central Committee of the S.C.P., expressed his strong condemnation of the actions of the Griffons and demanded that they be held to account…

May 8

The basement was dark and smelled musty. It also had a terribly hard floor, and she could feel her bones lying on it.

That was all Fleur de Lis could say about the place she’d been thrown into. The Canterlot noble pony had cried her eyes out for the first time in her life.

She’d been languishing there for over a month. As she and Fancy Pants strolled through the spring capital, the stallion apologized to his mate and left her waiting for him at the corner of Unicorn Street and Crystal Street, so she adjusted her hat and squinted into the bright sun. Suddenly, a carriage with darkened windows stopped next to her. Then the ponies jumped out, held a strange-smelling rag to her nose, and shoved the struggling mare into the backseat.

Fleur woke up in the basement – or rather, on the ground floor. If she put her head to one of the walls and listened, she could hear the muffled clatter of hooves and the sound of carriages passing by. How that would help her, Fleur didn’t know; she had no idea if she was even in Canterlot. But she probably was, though: the guards on the road would have noticed the tinted carriage.

Fleur couldn’t even light her horn to illuminate the dungeon: the blocking ring she wore was in the way. She couldn’t get it off with her hooves or against the wall; apparently the lock was magical.

She hadn’t been told why she was here or anything else. Not even insults. Just twice a day, a silent figure with a sack over his head brought her meager food and changed her bucket of filth. But once during her confinement, Fleur thought she could see the sharp folds of webbed wings in the dim light from outside.

So after everything that happened, there are still batponies left in the city?! she thought in shock as she paced around her cell. Nightmare Moon’s agents… But why do they need me? I mean, I have no value in these things… Do they really want Fancy? Is this their way of pressuring him? Oh, why did we only go for a walk then...

Now the noble pony sat leaning against the wall all day long. She mechanically ate the bread and drank the water brought to her and did her toilet without even trying to escape. Her once well-groomed white coat and pink mane were covered with dust, and now if Fleur were out on the streets, the guards would detain her as they thought she was a vagrant.

Loneliness pressed on the mind. Thoughts were blurred and hazy. Fleur just sat and waited for her fate. After so many days, she no longer hoped to be released.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and the mare turned her head lazily. And then her eyes widened, and for the first time in a long while, if anypony could see it in the dark, emotion flickered in her gaze.

Three ponies entered the basement. After they had locked the door, the room went dark, but that didn’t stop the three of them from making their way towards Fleur de Lis.

The mare flinched and tried to crawl away from them with her back to the wall.

Batponies… they… what are they going to do…?

The three stallions surrounded her, blocking her escape.

“W-what… do you want…?” Fleur said hoarsely and coughed.

A low chuckle reached her ears.

“You’ve been here for days and nopony has come for you,” came a whistling voice. “Looks like your noble fucker just decided to get rid of you to avoid the terms. Well, it’s no big deal. We’ll come up with something else, and they won’t even remember you.” The thestral obviously licked his lips.

“No… That can’t be—”

She was abruptly grabbed by the mane with fangs and thrown to the stone floor. One of the trio sat on her back, preventing her from moving, the presence of the other two evident before and behind her.

Fleur screamed, but a sharp blow to the face silenced her. A trace of something warm and salty remained on the hoof she brought up to her nose.

“Shut up, bitch,” the same thestral hissed. Fleur felt someone pull her disheveled tail aside. “Nopony would hear you anyway—”

The stallion didn’t finish.

At that moment, the wall above their heads literally exploded with stone fragments, and bright light poured into the basement.

“In the name of the Princess!” shouted a voice from outside. “Nopony move!”

Fleur squirmed, covering her head with her hooves. And the batponies, snatching curved blades from their sheaths with their teeth, rushed to attack…

All three were enveloped in a glow of magic and hung in the air, their wings flapping helplessly. Another flash and the three bodies collapsed to the ground as motionless statues.

Fleur looked up in disbelief, shielding herself from the light with her hoof. It was clearly daylight outside, and a month in a dark dungeon had taken its toll.

When she blinked up, she could still make out the figure of a lilac unicorn mare with a purple mane and a mint-green strand in it. The glow of telekinesis enveloped everypony in the basement, and Fleur realized with a sinking feeling that she was rising into the air.

It was not sunny outside, but even that light made her eyes hurt. Covering her face with her hooves, she watched as the guardsponies tied up the thestrals and dragged them to a truck parked nearby, emblazoned with a sun and three balloons.

Then someone ran up to her and wrapped her in an embrace.

“Darling, how I was afraid for you…!” Fancy Pants’ voice came over her ear in an emotional rasp. “You have no idea… How are you? They haven’t done anything…?”

“Fancy....” Fleur exhaled and coughed. “Why… so long…?”

“We cracked their network a month ago, shortly after you were kidnapped, ma’am,” the lilac unicorn replied, using magic to repair the wall of the house. “The challenge was to unravel the tangle without alarming them, so as not to harm you.”

“I appreciate your efforts, Miss Glimmer,” Fancy Pants said to her. “But… while you were scheming, Fleur was suffering. And with all due respect, I don’t think that’s the moral thing to do.”

“Mr. Pants, you know as well as we do that this is a war,” said the guard standing beside him. The insignia on his armor revealed his higher rank. “A war of annihilation. The lives of thousands, if not millions, of ponies depend on our actions. And unfortunately, if only one pony becomes a bargaining chip, it’s hard to imagine such a good luck.”

“I know what you mean,” Fancy Pants nodded. “But I don’t like that attitude. That’s why I will continue to promote the idea that no innocent pony should have to suffer.”

“It’s up to you,” the guardspony said dryly and turned to Fleur, “Miss de Lis, you need medical attention. We can take you to the castle where you will receive all the necessary—”

“I’ll do it myself.” Fancy Pants pointed to his white Claudillac behind the truck. “Come on, Fleur. You’re safe.”

May 10

The harbor of Trottingham was abuzz with activity.

Despite the early hour, the piers were crowded with ponies, and more were arriving by the minute. Some wore military or naval uniforms, both Equestrian and Stalliongrad, unwittingly reflecting the confusion that had been going on in the Griffish Isles for nearly six months now.

In late November, Severyan ships arrived in the archipelago northeast of Equestria. Local radio read a decree from the SSSR Supreme Soviet ordering troops to be sent to help secure the region. At the time, the grimmest news about Equestria’s fate was coming from the mainland, and if Nightmare Moon sent her fleet to the islands, the Trottinghamians would have little chance of resisting. So nopony really objected to the Stalliongradians’ arrival, as long as they didn’t interfere with the islanders’ lives.

Soon, the newcomers took some of the seats in the self-governing bodies. At their suggestion, a referendum was held under Hearth’s Warming Eve with two questions: whether the local ponies supported the islands’ annexation to Severyana, and how they felt about Stalliongrad troops on their territory. The majority voted against the communist takeover, but the sailors and soldiers were retained. It was decided that this would remain the case until the end of the war, and if Equestria won, another referendum would be held in a year to decide the fate of the region.

Princess Celestia summoned the Stalliongrad ambassador and read a note of protest, to which Altidiya made no response.

Thus, while Trottingham was still de jure part of Equestria, it was de facto ruled by the Stalliongradians. But there was no enmity between the two nations: the ponies adopted each other’s language and customs, and former trade relations became the basis for peaceful coexistence.

The news of the destruction of Village Up North sent the islands into a frenzy. Ponies came out in rallies and demanded serious action. And when they heard that some of the survivors of the ships driven from under the Griffons’ beak were on their way here, the ponies of Trottingham began to prepare for a large-scale meeting.

This morning, a rumor spread that several Stalliongrad ships had left port to escort the approaching Equestrian flotilla. This was indirectly confirmed by the fact that some of the ships had recently been moved to the southern tip of the main island to make room. And now the ponies gathered at the wharf to greet the sailors as heroes.

“Coming, coming!” came a shout, and the crowd erupted in joyous cheers.

And indeed, through the powerful binoculars on the horizon, the smoke of the flotilla was already visible.

Above the sea of ponies flew the flags of Stalliongrad and Equestria, most of them with only the sun and no moon, and without the circular figures of the two alicorns.

As the flotilla of ships came close enough to be seen with the naked eye, the sailors and military officers pushed the crowd away from the pier. Ahead of them, standing apart from the general formation, was a dark-red, burly earth pony in an admiral’s uniform, staring at the flotilla approaching the shore with a hard, sharp gaze.

The smoking dots soon turned into nine ragged Equestrian ships and two Severyan escort frigates. One cruiser stood out from the group, with bullet holes in its sides and broken masts on its superstructures. It and an escort ship were heading for the main shipyard, while the others were off in the distance. The white portside of the ship bore the shabby inscription PRIOR.

At last, the cruiser docked, and a gangway was lowered onto the quay. The ponies cheered as the figures of the crew came into view. They were not overjoyed at their successful arrival, however, but rather relieved that they had reached their destination safely.

The first to descend the gangway was a green unicorn in a slightly rumpled ceremonial tunic. He was clearly surprised, though he tried not to show it, when the dark-red earth pony was the first to salute him.

“Vice Admiral Krutoyar Krasnov, Commander of the 4th Southern Flotilla of the SSSR Navy,” he said in clear Equestrian. “Welcome to the Griffish Isles, comrades. Looks like your journey was a bit long.”

“Lieutenant Captain Ocean Breeze,” the unicorn saluted back. “And… yes. Of those who were at the base, only a few of us were able to get on the ships on Commodore Silkworm’s orders, so we didn’t get a full crew anywhere. We were spread out so that we could just drop anchor and head out to sea, but we got a little lost along the way.” He smiled sheepishly, but immediately became serious again. “May I say a few words to all those who are here to greet us, Vice Admiral?”

“You have my permission.”

Krasnov stepped aside, and one of the soldiers quickly pushed a large wooden crate toward them. Ocean Breeze climbed onto the platform and looked around the hushed crowd with a grim, determined look as the others stepped off the gangway and exchanged hoofshakes with the locals.

“We are not heroes,” the unicorn said loudly. An oppressive silence hung over the shipyard. “We couldn’t save any of the civilians. Most of the ponies trapped in the town had no chance to escape. And it was our fault as well. There were just too few of us.” He pulled his cap off. “I suggest we observe a moment of silence for their memory.”

For a short time, silence fell over the quay. The officers lined up also took off their caps. Many lowered their heads in sorrow; a few sobs were heard here and there.

When enough time had passed, Ocean Breeze put his cap back on and continued, “The base was surrounded, and all we did was what we were ordered to do: take the ships so as not to leave them to the Griffons. In good conscience, we should be arrested and judged according to wartime laws. We should have stayed there. But we are here. And so we will do everything we can to atone for our ignominious flight.” He stepped down from the crate and looked the Vice Admiral in the eye. “And we even have a plan on how to do it.”

“And what is it?”

A grin appeared on the unicorn’s face. “We are going to go to Manehattan.”

Equestria Daily, May 11.

Olenia Refuses to Yield

Queen Chrysalis has sent an urgent request to King Johan, demanding that her troops be granted full access to Olenia’s territory and become a protectorate state under the rule of the Changelings. The Olenian leader has yet to make an official response, but there are mixed feelings among the people of the kingdom about the Changeling threat amidst growing anti-government sentiment.

A credible source, who wished to remain anonymous, told us the following, “Workers across Olenia are taking to the streets in protest of King Johan’s tyranny. Few active soldiers are willing to fight for the current government in the country. At the same time, our mountains have long been a perfect defense against invasion. If we strengthen our defenses and train our troops to withstand any attack like a wall, it may be possible to make do with a small force and protect Olenia from invasion from the north.”

We will keep an eye on the situation.

May 14

On a bleak subpolar morning, the clash of weapons and the clatter of hundreds of heavy hooves rang out across the forest tundra that was beginning to clear north of the Crystal Empire.

On the treeless, narrow divide east of Gol Gyuur, two armies of yaks faced each other. The westerners held high red banners with a blue stripe and white emblem in the center, while the easterners held red banners with a wide blue stripe on the right and a yellow yak head on the left. There were loud, angry grunts and the incessant pounding of powerful hooves on the ground: the irresistible urge to smash possessed the assembled almost completely, and only the absence of orders kept both sides from immediately starting a bloody skirmish.

The yaks were mostly armed with spears, but there were also slingshots with cobblestones in them, muskets, and some with more advanced breech-loading rifles. However, these names did not mean much to the soldiers, and in their minds the weapons were still “smashers” and “boom-sticks.”

On the eastern side, a yak dressed in patterned cloth with long red bangs covering his eyes came forward, a heavy spear with a steel tip the size of a pony’s head hanging from his back.

“Subjects of the despicable Rutherford!” he declared in a low, hoarse voice. “You will pay for trampling the traditions of the Yak family! By being in cahoots with ponies in the south, you have betrayed the memory of your ancestors!”

“Shut up, you horned trunk!” a western warrior who had emerged from the ranks replied. His bangs were brown, and the patterns on his clothes were slightly different. “By refusing to befriend the southern tribes, you’re falling into the dark ages! Prince Bradford is a traitor and an impostor! Surrender, or we’ll crush your heads and drink koumiss from your horns!”

“You have chosen your own fate!” The eastern shook his head. “Jaki-clan, smash!!!”

“For Yakyakistan! SMASH!!!”

And a battle broke out.

That was how two tribes in the north started a war that the rest of the world didn’t even notice.

May 15

“…What makes you think I’d be interested?”

Dust Hoover’s question, spoken in a detached, even impassive tone, caused Fancy Pants and Velvet to glance at each other. The unicorn’s blue eyes read confusion, while the graceful, blue-horned doe was undoubtedly trying to hide her fear.

Apart from the three of them, there was no one else in the room. Carafes of water and bowls of fruit sat on a round table covered with a snow-white tablecloth. On the wall to the right of the entrance hung the flags of Stalliongrad and the Vanhoover Commune; the latter was a dark blue cloth with a lighthouse in the center, whose light created a red triangle with a golden horseshoe and hammer on the left. And beyond the windows stretched the lead-blue sea to the horizon.

Finally, Fancy Pants managed to control himself and spoke, “Admiral, you must realize the situation. The count is literally days. Olenia is too much of a target for the changelings… and too confident in its own immunity.”

“What does this have to do with Vanhoover?” objected the dark brown stallion in his naval uniform. “When we separated from Equestria, the first thing we wanted to do was distance ourselves from the civil war that half of Equus had fallen into. Damn, where do you think I got this scar?” He pointed to his right cheek, where a long, thin scar was clearly visible. “As a sister state of Severyana, we are just beginning to build our power so that we cannot be swept away – even by the Deer. And now you want me to risk the fate of a million and a half ponies for a secondary goal in the great game Equestria is playing?” The admiral leaned back in his chair and glared at his companions. “You will not succeed. The Vanhoover Commune will not be a bargaining chip.”

“Look at the bright side,” Velvet replied. Once again, Fancy Pants marveled at her ability to maintain her meek dignity and noted her slight Northwestern accent. “If we are successful, Princess Celestia and I, as the rightful Queen of Olenia, will guarantee the region’s independence even after the war is over. In addition, if necessary, you will receive any military support we can provide. Should you fail, Equestria will still be the guarantor of Vanhoover’s security—”

“Wait a minute, lady,” Dust Hoover lifted a hoof. “You say we win, but I lose? You choose your words well, Miss Velvet, I’ll give you that. I can see that your ambition is not unfounded. But I’m not going to let myself get manipulated like this. For I have my own reasons to worry, and so does my homeland, which has chosen its own path.”

He rose from his chair and paced the room.

“First of all, we are too weak. In a land invasion, Vanhoover could only field twenty-seven, or thirty-five thousand ponies at the most – while the enemy (Queen Chrysalis, or perhaps even King Johan) would clearly be stronger. And with all due respect, I doubt that Equestria will defend us as fiercely as you say. Especially,” he grinned wryly, “since you’ve had a massive war in the east for a month now, haven’t you? I wonder if you could guarantee to defend the Southern States, for example? Or Baltimare? Or what about Village Up North?”

Mentioning an area almost entirely slaughtered by Griffons could not go unnoticed.

“Listen, you—” the unicorn began, rising from his seat as well.

“No, you listen!” Dust Hoover turned to him sharply. “Olenia’s days as an independent nation are numbered. I have enough information from my sources to say with certainty that the Changelings will crush them in a matter of weeks. It is inevitable, as you yourself have pointed out, esteemed Fancy Pants, in the coming days. And the turmoil caused by the change of power won’t do much to strengthen Olenia, will it? In fact, I’m sure it’ll even play to the bugs’ hoof.”

The admiral stepped back to the window and looked out at the southeastern branch of Luna Cove washing over the city.

“As much as I personally support your claim to the throne, Miss Velvet, I am not suicidal. I hope you’re not either. And I don’t really care whether you, King Djävulen, or the Priest of All Gods, Allsherjargodi Jurva, become Chrysalis’ puppet. Yes, because of my proximity to the sea, I am well aware of the affairs of the kingdom,” he explained, as if he could feel the amazement in the doe’s gaze at the back of his head. “I should note that, as a socialist, I would prefer not you but, say, the leader of the Socialist Party, Kullervo Sirola. But that’s beyond my power. Or even yours. All I’m saying” – he turned to Fancy Pants and Velvet – “is that after Olenia, the next target of the Changelings will be us, the free Vanhoover Commune. And that’s the basis of my ponitics. Which, to be clear, Princess Celestia’s suggestion doesn’t fit at all.

“It must have taken you a long time to get here, huh? I’d say about a week. On the White Falcon, the fastest train in Equestria. But in vain. This negotiation is pointless. Nevertheless, you are welcome to stay as guests for as long as you wish…”

Dust Hoover pointed a hoof at them. The admiral’s voice rang with cold metal.

“But don’t you dare – do you hear me?! – don’t even try to drag my nation into a war that hasn’t even started yet. Otherwise, my navy will impose such a trade blockade on Equestria that the lack of Puerto Caballo bananas on the tables of the Canterlot nobility will seem like a minor inconvenience. Tell that to Celestia. I’m sure she’ll draw the right conclusions.” He turned to the window again. “That will be all. The audience is over.”

“If I were of the same sex as my illegitimate brother, I would challenge you to a duel,” Velvet said defiantly, rising from the table along with Fancy Pants. “After all, restoring historical justice is a matter of honor.”

“My honor is always with me,” Dust Hoover lifted his chin without turning. “And given the subject of our conversation, I feel entitled to inquire about yours. This is how Equestria is used to achieving its goals, isn’t it? Tell Celestia that her time of domination is over. New centers of power are rising. Though not as powerful yet.”

“If I were not on a diplomatic visit here, I would throw a glove in your face myself,” the unicorn replied icily. “But unfortunately, my status and mission do not allow me to do so. Let’s go, Velvet,” he turned to the blue-horned doe. “There is nothing more for us to do here.”

The two left, leaving Dust Hoover alone.

Only then did the admiral turn from the window and walk to the left wall of the door.

There, on a neat little dresser, stood a framed photograph of a white, light blue-maned earth pony with a black stripe across it. The mare wore a Rear Admiral’s uniform; her eyes looked from the portrait as if they were still alive.

“I’m sorry, Cynosura,” the stallion whispered. “I will not let what happened to you happen again. For me, there is a line between action and folly. And Celestia gives me the wisdom to know the difference.”

The mare in the photo didn’t react. To be honest, Dust Hoover wasn’t expecting her to.

With a slight nod, he touched his hoof to the frame – but immediately pulled his leg back and turned away.

There was no one around to see his eyes. If there had been, he would have known for certain that the admiral was holding back tears.

Equestria Daily, May 16.

CHRYSALIS DECLARES WAR ON OLENIA!

Queen Chrysalis gave a keynote speech at a meeting of the Kingdom of Changelings’ top military brass today, announcing the launch of a military operation against her southern neighbor.

“Olenia has never respected us. There is no doubt that they will move against the Changeling Lands as soon as they are done with their internal strife. Equestrian and Stalliongrad influence in Olenia grows daily, threatening ours, and there is only one way to defend our sovereignty and honor: war!” proclaimed the Queen.

Meanwhile, at six o’clock in the morning local time, advance parties of Changelings defeated the Deer border posts in the mountains and began their assault on the northern regions of the kingdom. King Johan issued a statement in response, calling on the Deerfolk to stand united against the threat.

“The Changelings are just bugs. For the safety of the world, we will crush them like flies under our hooves. For every mile of our land they seize, they will pay with dozens of their lives! Olenia has weathered many storms, and this one is yet to be overcome. We will not fall! The fighting spirit of the deer will defeat the rapacious insects!”

Equestria, the Crystal Empire, and Stalliongrad strongly condemned the Changeling attack. According to Princess Celestia, such reckless actions “threaten to escalate the current conflicts into an all-out war that could affect all of Equus, and in the worst-case scenario, other continents as well.”

In the coming days, we will attempt to report in more detail on the scope and progress of the invasion…

May 18

Double Diamond sighed and set the papers aside. Work wasn’t going well today. And how could it, when the town’s budget was running a deficit for the third year in a row? Small territory, barren land, no access to the sea – how in the name of Celestia can the settlement develop?

“Not even trade routes through our mountains,” the white earth pony muttered, glancing over his shoulder.

Outside the window were rows of identical plank houses with gable roofs. The town seemed so compact that it was hard to believe there were two hundred and seventy-five thousand ponies.

We’re surrounded, Double Diamond thoughtfully stroked a sheet of paper with a hoof-grip fountain pen. A small, unruly nation between three fires: the Crystal Empire to the west, Nova Griffonia to the east, and Stalliongrad to the south. And since my first days as mayor, I’ve had to twist and turn to keep us afloat. I know Celestia and Cadance have been supportive. What would we do without their ponytary aid? Thanks to the Communists, too; at least we’re getting some technology. Though that was all under Altidiya… but Wheatin is obviously different. I bet my leg he’s got other plans than just supporting us. And the Griffons... You don’t know what to expect from them. Especially after what they did to Village Up North. The only consolation is that they’re not interested in us yet.

The white earth pony sighed and closed his eyes. Oh, Starlight… Whatever you were, sometimes I miss you so much. We could use your business skills.

“Double!” a call brought him out of his reverie.

Night Glider and Feather Bangs ran into the office. Both were out of breath and looked worried about something.

“What’s the matter?”

“There… trucks…” the pegasus mare blurted out, twitching her wings.

“Stalliongrad,” hissed the yellow stallion in the expensive suit. “They’re coming from everywhere. They must have gotten over the mountain roads somehow.”

A shadow crossed Double Diamond’s face. He stood slowly, smoothed his luxurious white mane, then adjusted his purple scarf and the “equal” stripes on the collar of his gray jacket.

“Tell everypony not to panic!” he ordered. “Tell them to stay inside and keep their heads down. I’ll try to solve it myself. Maybe I can.”

“We’re with you,” Feather Bangs said. “You can’t do anything by yourself, Double, you know that. Those guys are too strong to take them on.”

“We’ll figure something out.” Double Diamond left the table and headed for the door. “Let’s see what’s out there.”

The two trusty ponies followed. Both had a look of barely concealed fear on their faces.

When they emerged from Our Town Hall, which was recognizable only by the horseshoe crest with the symbol of Equality above the entrance, Party Favor was waiting for them at the door.

“Hurry up!” shouted the light blue stallion with a curly blue mane and a cutie mark in the shape of a balloon figure. “They’re surrounding the town! Liquid has already brought an army to meet them!”

Liquid Miracle, a blond earth pony of swamp-green color, was the chief of the town’s army, which consisted of four battalions. The force was organized into two regiments, commanded by Gray Bread and Magic Fly. And it was on these ponies that the future course of events depended.

Meanwhile, from the outskirts of the village came the growing roar of engines.

Thinking the main force was coming from the south, Double Diamond and the others moved quickly in that direction. They were met by frightened ponies asking what was going on and what they should do. The town leader calmed them down and told them to be quiet, but some of them followed him.

By the time the delegation reached the southern border of the settlement, a huge crowd of confused and worried ponies had formed behind them.

Double Diamond felt hundreds of eyes on his back and gritted his teeth.

I am their shield now. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.

A hundred feet from the edge of the street stood a steady line of soldiers in gray uniforms with the “equal” sign on their chevrons. In their hooves were breech-loading Lilies and magazine-fed SVETA rifles, assembled in the town from Stalliongradian parts. And the weapons were aimed at the camouflaged ponies standing next to a line of military trucks that stretched in both directions as far as the eye could see. And the red stars were clearly visible on the sides of the vehicles.

“What’s going on here?” Double Diamond asked loudly as he stepped forward. All the weapons of the uninvited guests immediately pointed at him. “Who is in charge?”

“I am.”

A gray thestral mare, wearing a cap and tunic with stars on the red collar, descended from the sky on webbed wings in front of the white pony.

“Major General Maria Norushkina,” she said, whispering slightly in a batpony’s manner. “Special Representative of the People’s Commissariat of Defense to the Supreme Soviet of Severyana.”

“I’d like to say, ‘Nice to meet you,’ but the situation doesn’t allow it,” the white pony said coldly. “Double Diamond, Mayor of Our Town. I demand an explanation: why have you invaded our sovereign territory?”

“According to the resolution of the Supreme Soviet of May fifteenth, your settlement is located on the lands that historically belonged to the Severyan Kingdom, and thus to the Severyan Soviet Republic as its legal successor,” the thestral monotonously repeated the clearly memorized text. “It was decided to send troops to this region to prevent a possible expansion of Nova Griffonia.”

“Nonsense!” Double Diamond stomped his hoof. “You have de facto recognized our independence, declared eight years ago by Starlight Glimmer! You have supported us! What has changed?!”

“All support,” Norushkina said slowly, “has its price.”

She turned to her soldiers and nodded slightly.

A shot rang out. Double Diamond looked down at the hole in his chest, a bloody stain spreading across his gray jacket.

But before the white pony could fall to the ground, the thestral lunged at him and sank her fangs into his neck.

Double Diamond’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed in Norushkina’s gentle embrace.

The villagers gasped. Weapons trembled in the hooves of the town’s defenders.

But no one fired. Everyone was too shocked by what had happened.

“It’s been a long time since I drank fresh blood…” the mare whispered in the white pony’s ear, even though he could no longer hear her. “But you gave me a reason to. So don’t take offense.”

She loosened her grip, and the mayor’s breathless body fell to the ground with a thud.

“Severyana withdraws the recognition of the independence of the Town of Starlight!” Norushkina proclaimed. Blood dripped down from her fangs. “From now on, the town is to be called Nashekopytsk, and the territory is to be called the Nashekopytsk Region of the SSSR! Any speeches against according to the 58th article of the Criminal Code will be equated to counter-revolution and punished by firing squad! Lay down your arms and do not resist! These lands belong to Stalliongrad now, with or without you!”

Feather Bangs and Night Glider looked at each other. The pegasus shook her head. The yellow earth pony lowered his gaze.

One by one, the soldiers of the town began to lower their weapons.

“No! You won’t get this off your hooves!” a voice boomed.

Everyone turned around at the sound of it. General Liquid Miracle was rushing at Norushkina with a submachine gun in his teeth.

A burst of gunfire rang out, shattering against the magical shield one of the unicorns had set up in front of the thestral mare.

The green pony was literally riddled with bullets. After dropping his weapon, he fell to the ground as a piece of bleeding meat.

“Well?!” The batpony looked around at the defenders of the settlement. “Who’s next?!”

The ponies were silent. And that was the worst of it.

A few minutes later, the trucks rolled into the town.

May 19

Night had fallen over the capital of the Crystal Empire. The stars shone peacefully in the sky. But the tranquility of this oasis of eternal summer was deceptive. Crystal City was asleep – and not having the most pleasant dreams.

The world had changed so much over the last year, and not for the better. Wars raged in the north, west, and south, bringing waves of anger and sorrow to the Empire. And now the east was troubled as well. The lands of the crystal ponies had become an island of fragile peace and balance, protected by mountains and snow from outside encroachment on this naive paradise.

But the seeds of darkness had taken root within the state itself. From the crystal pillars and facades of the great buildings hung scraps of posters calling for membership in the National Spirit Party under Radiant Hope, or the Commonwealth of Old Kings, of which nothing was known. Every day, guardsponies in silver armor tore the posters down, but every night the proclamations reappeared.

From now on, anypony suspected of supporting the ideology of supremacy could be arrested – and even imprisoned forever in the dungeons beneath the Crystal Palace. In addition, posters put up by the guards themselves promised a reward for information on those who plotted against the existing system. Even the Red Crystal Workers’ Party held its rallies under the watchful eye of the guards.

In the minds of the ponies, doubts arose as to the correctness of the Harmonic path. Despite the proclaimed course of fully independent development, the Crystal Empire remained a de facto puppet of Equestria, and – who would have thought – a mediator in its negotiations with Stalliongrad.

And from the posters, with dark magic radiating from his red eyes, looked the one who could change that.

A dark gray stallion in a red cape, with a glowing red curved horn. A pony surrounded by the shadows that made up his being. A strong and tough ruler who had been imprisoned in the ice of the north for a thousand years.

King Sombra.

…In an apartment on the top floor of a newly constructed building, a group of ponies had gathered. They did not hide their faces, and all wore old-style canvas cloaks with hoods that were now pulled back. The clasps were bands of white metal with three diamond-shaped stones: two amethysts and an emerald in the center. A sign from the flag of the former Crystal Empire, under the rule of the King of Shadows.

“How are the preparations going?” asked a lilac crystal unicorn mare with a light blue mane. “How much more time do you need? Dust?”

“Dark Heart is ready, Miss Hope.” The old gray stallion named Dust Snowfall smiled and took a sealed dark green container from his pouch. “By my estimation, it still has a few weeks to grow before it gains enough strength. Thanks to the crystals from the Lair of Shadows and Snowybury, the dark energy continues to fuel the Heart. And soon we’ll be able to take action.”

“First we need to energize the crystals around the city,” the ice blue, almost white crystal unicorn grumbled, shaking his mane unhappily. “And they are being watched around the clock by guardsponies, damn them to Umbrums…! Sakira and I have to evade and enchant the guards before charging the crystal steles. And hide amulets with illusion spells to keep the power of the shadows inside the stone from being seen—”

“How long are you going to do this, Lake?” Radiant Hope asked. “And by the way, where’s that new pony you’ve attracted? Anon, right?”

“He’ll be here soon,” said Sakira Bluebell, a pink earth pony with a dark blue mane and purple eyes. “And as for the crystals… Please don’t blame Lake Frost: we’re really doing the best we can. The three of us need at least another month. If we get more ponies involved, we can do it faster—”

“How are we going to attract them, eh?” snorted the red, brawny unicorn, whose only magical stick on his head didn’t seem to have any muscles. “The guards are actively stifling any propaganda; our party is about to be officially banned. The daily raids are already reducing the number of our supporters. Because of all this crap, everyone’s moving away from us to the Red Crystal or even the Harmonic! We’re totally screwed, I’m telling you. And all our attempts to increase our influence are met with more and more resistance from the government—”

“I don’t have to tell you how to run a campaign, Red Peyote,” Radiant Hope said coldly. “Raids don’t hurt us that much: when the ideology of superiority is persecuted, some ponies go to the Old Kings. Conversely, fighting the traditionalists makes the National Spirit Party stronger. However, you’re right on one point. We need more supporters to finish the preparations faster. Try—”

There was a knock at the door. Silently, everyone immediately turned in that direction.

“It must be Anon,” Sakira said, stepping towards the exit.

“Wait!” Lake stopped her and went to the door himself. “Who is it?”

“Open up, it’s me!” came a muffled voice.

“Amidst the northern ice…?”

“…darkness is rising,” the pony behind the door finished.

Lake Frost looked at Radiant Hope. She shook her head cautiously.

“Come back tomorrow,” the white unicorn said. “Today we’re not—”

In a flash of magic, the door burst open. Ponies in silver armor and halberds rushed into the apartment.

“In the name of the Princess! You are arrested!”

“Hope, run!” Dust Snowfall threw a heavy container at the lilac unicorn before the guardsponies could pile on top of the old stallion.

She caught the load with magic and dashed for the window. A guard suddenly appeared in her path. Radiant Hope teleported behind him, whacked him over the head with the container, and jumped onto the windowsill.

“Stop!”

Magical shackles flew towards the unicorn’s hooves. She picked them up with her telekinesis, swung them around and threw them back, then jumped out the window.

The fact that it was the fifth floor didn’t deter her at all. As she fell, she teleported to the very ground and immediately rushed away, hiding the Dark Heart under her cloak.

Don’t worry, Sombra, she thought, racing down the crystal paths. The day will come when all ponies bow before your greatness.

Equestria Daily, May 20.

…Nearly three months after launching a major military operation, the Supreme Commander of the Harmonic Army, Prince Blueblood, has reported to Her Highness Princess Celestia the complete liberation of Whinnysteel and the capture of Whinnyapolis, which had been under siege since late February. Its geographical location makes it a strategic city, as its capture would restore direct land links between Equestria and the Crystal Empire.

The steel mill was a major hotbed of resistance for the Cultists of the Night. At first, the plan was to take Whinnysteel by storm, with fire support provided by the Steel Horseshoes PMC and the Legion volunteer detachment, while aviation and artillery were also active. However, three days later, on April 21, Princess Celestia personally forbade the storming of the factory and ordered the blockade of the industrial zone “so that a parasprite could not fly over.”

In addition to the Batpony troops, there were civilians and wounded in the factory. Nightmare Moon has repeatedly stated that Canterlot will pay a terrible price if the remaining ponies in the siege are eliminated. Following the lockdown of the industrial zone, negotiations began for the evacuation of civilians and the withdrawal of troops, including the Crystal Empire and Stalliongrad. The evacuation of Whinnysteel took place in several stages: the civilians left in early May, the wounded were evacuated a few days later, and then the rebels began to surrender.

On May 20, the factory came under full Equestrian control. Officially, 2439 fighters surrendered, including 1713 thestrals, almost all of whom were migrant workers who had moved to the outskirts of the city before the war began.

The New Lunar Republic calls this a “strategic concession” rather than a surrender. Specifically, the day after the factory’s surrender, Nightmare Moon declared that the cultists in the factory upon their “ignominious defeat” were now “mere trash, unworthy of the stars’ favor.”

The mayor of Whinnyapolis believes that a tribunal for those who held the Whinnysteel factory is inevitable…

*

Equestria Nightly, May 20.

SHOCK! IN EQUESTRIA’S PMC, SOLDIERS GET THEIR BRAINS BLOWN OUT WITH A SLEDGEHAMMER!

It is no secret that the so-called equestrian army is too weak, so much so that they are forced to attract outside forces even to hold their positions. The PMC Steel Horseshoes under the control of the fraudulent brothers Flim and Flam, as well as the outlawed unit Legion under the command of Scrappy Rug, are such formations.

It’s already been revealed that these gangs, just like the harmonic army of criminal celestia, see their purpose in killing and raping ponies. But if before they only attacked defenseless civilians of the New Lunar Republic, now their deep-seated evil has surfaced in the moonlight.

Recently, one of the PMC fighters made a willful decision to surrender and join the NLR in order to continue fighting on the side of good against the oppressive rule of the equestrians. However, after learning of his intentions, the bosses decided to deal with the pony in their own way. An anvil was attached to the fighter’s head, and he was forced to lean against the wall. He then confessed his “crimes” in public, after which his head was struck twenty-four times with a sledgehammer. The pony died of his injuries on the spot, and his recent cohorts, with particular cynicism, raped and dismembered the corpse, which they then buried piece by piece, and finally urinated and defecated on the grave site.

Now do you see what we are fighting against?! Only a complete victory over our enemy will rid the world of the evil that is equestria…

May 22

The Hoofington Space Center stood on a large piece of flat ground surrounded by forest. Although the town of Hoofington itself, to the southwest, was still under the control of the Confederation of Southern States, the road in that direction was blocked by Equermacht troops.

At first, everything they needed was delivered here by airplanes or pegasus wagons, but they quickly realized that this was inefficient. So, under the watchful eye of the Horsecoacher herself, a highway was built across the broken border in record time.

The Confederates fought back with occasional small attacks but were quickly kicked in the teeth and retreated. No matter how confident President Braeburn was, they were not yet ready to deal with such an enemy.

And at the spaceport, the work continued.

The work that would change the balance of power and create many new threats and opportunities in the future.

“Key on ignition!”

The phrase tossed into the microphone immediately shook the ponies. The tense buzz in the vast hall of Mission Control grew a little louder.

The giant screen, made of transparent crystals, showed two images: a rocket pointing straight up in the night on the launch pad, and a map of the world with bizarre, curved lines applied by a magical projector.

Dozens of ponies sat in front of radios and counting machines of all kinds; more scurried back and forth, transmitting data and orders. But every now and then, many of them looked back to the center of the hall, where the reason for their zeal stood.

Nightmare Moon stared at the screen and the commotion around her. Next to the Princess of the Night stood Sunset Shimmer and Delta Vee. And while the bright orange unicorn in a general’s uniform simply stood in the shadow of the ruler, the gray pegasus was on edge, nervously rubbing her feathers or her green mane.

“Key to the drain!”

The tension in the hall grew. One by one, the ponies froze, staring at the screen. They realized that one mistake could cost them their lives. Or at least all their comforts for the next few years.

“Drain valves closed!”

“How much longer before liftoff?” Nightmare Moon asked through her lip.

“Huh? Uh…” Delta looked around nervously, trying to control herself. “Two m-minutes and f-fifteen seconds…”

“Hold still or I’ll put you in a straitjacket,” the alicorn said.

Delta shuddered but did her best to keep her shivering down.

“Supercharges are coming in, everything’s fine.”

The work had come to a complete standstill. Everything depended on how the automatic systems worked now.

Delta crossed her flight feathers. Jet… Apogee… if only you could see all this… she thought, brushing away an unwanted tear.

“Ignition…”

Jets of white smoke and flame erupted from beneath the rocket, illuminating the forest. The machine, as tall as a rather large tree, seemed to be carrying a bomb rather than its scientific cargo.

“Break off!”

There was more smoke and fire. If the crystals had been transmitting sound, the entire Mission Control would probably have been blown to bits. But it was clear from the shaking of the ground that there was a lot of power there.

And so, with an incredible effort against the gravity of Equus, the rocket began to rise. Flames shot out of the nozzle in a bright column, creating the illusion of a pillar of fire rising from the ground and lifting the vehicle above the surface.

“Five seconds, the pressure in the combustion chamber is normal!”

The rocket took off. Faster and faster, it rose above the launch pad. The picture changed: now the magical image transmitter was pointed at the inky dark sky, where only the tail of the fire could be seen, getting smaller and smaller.

“Forty seconds, rudders working, pressure normal!”

Soon the dazzling streak became just a bright dot, fading with each passing second. And a new line began to form across the map of the planet.

“One hundred and forty seconds, all good!”

“How high will you take it?” Nightmare Moon asked.

“S-separation will occur at two hundred miles,” Delta replied, stammering. “But the satellite will go into an elliptical orbit and gradually descend—”

“Is it coming back?”

Delta froze. “I-I beg your pardon?”

“I said, is the rocket coming back?” the alicorn repeated more ominously.

“Y-you know, Horsecoacher…” The pegasus’ eyes darted around. “It is not planned. For the first flight, we have decided to use a one-stage system… The rocket will carry the satellite into orbit, and after separation it will fall into the ocean… according to our calculations, near the Feathisian South Zebrides—”

A telekinesis field wrapped around her neck and lifted her off the ground. Everypony froze in fear, no longer looking at the screen, but at the unfolding scene.

“Then make it come back next time!” Nightmare Moon growled at the writhing Delta. “Do you have any idea how many resources went into this project?! And now you are telling me we have to build it all over again?! There is a war going on here, don’t you remember?! Equestria is just waiting for us to bust our asses!”

“I’ve got all the blueprints you needed,” Sunset said quietly. “From now on, it’s up to you.”

Delta’s eyes rolled back. Nightmare Moon tossed the unconscious pegasus away and headed for the exit. Sunset Shimmer glanced at the body lying on the floor and followed the Horsecoacher.

In the silence that followed, the operator’s shaky voice rang out like a thunderclap, causing everypony to jump. “Separation… the side stages have split…”

In a few minutes, the NLR became Equus’ first space power.

The next day, it was in all the newspapers.

Princess Celestia had a lot to think about.

May 25

Early in the morning, the shelling began in Manehattan.

Panicked residents jumped out of bed and looked out the window. Occasionally there would be a rumble from the sea, and then a shell accelerating to incredible speeds would fall into the street or hit a house.

Chaos had broken out in the capital of the Lunar Republic. Since the beginning of the war, the ponies had grown accustomed to the fact that the fighting was going on somewhere far away, and even that their forces were winning, squeezing the brazen Equestrians on all fronts. And now, for the first time, they had to experience it for themselves.

The shells were closing in on the city’s main seat of power, Tenpony Tower.

It was the Equestrian ships that had broken out of Village Up North. After replenishing supplies and crew on the Griffish Isles, the two flotillas, one flagged Equestria and the other Stalliongrad, left the port of Trottingham and headed south.

To avoid the Lunar Fleet patrols based in Albion, they had to make a wide arc around the northern waters of the NLR. But in doing so, they were able to approach Manehattan directly from the east. And enough to hit the center of the city with their guns.

One of the shells brought down the statue of the Liberty Mare in the harbor. The majestic stone mare, green from the patina that covered the statue, toppled and fell into the sea with a loud splash. The city had lost one of its main symbols.

The ships of the Coltsmarine headed for the invaders. There were about as many of them as there were in each of the two attacking flotillas. First, they tried to tie up the ships that were firing on Manehattan. But that task was quickly taken over by others, and the Stalliongrad ships turned their sights on the defenders.

However, the remnants of the Lunar Fleet were overwhelming in armament. So the Equestrian ship was the first to sink from a direct hit, followed by another. Those in the distance stopped firing on the city and joined the battle.

One by one, the ships sank. A Stalliongrad frigate went under, an Equestrian destroyer rammed a Lunar cruiser… Columns of black smoke billowed over the sea, and there was no end to the dance of death on the water under the rising sun.

In the end, six ships remained of the attacking armada: two Equestrian and four Stalliongrad. Around them flickered the dark silhouettes of four units of the Lunar Fleet.

The ships flying Equestrian flags opened fire in a desperate rush against the Lunazi squadron. They returned fire and began to surround the upstarts who dared to challenge them.

Another round of battle ensued, in which the Equestrians didn’t stand a chance.

And as the remnants of the Coltsmarine put up another fight, the Stalliongrad ships turned and headed away.

Nightmare Moon’s sailors did not follow.

A few minutes later, Equestria had no fleet left. The Lunar ships sailed back to their anchorages, sounding a victory horn in the cool sea air.

Thus ended the naval invasion of Manehattan. An operation the sailors escaping the besieged base hoped would benefit the country… but ultimately only cost them their lives.

It was the death they’d been waiting for. And by leaving mid-battle, their temporary allies gave them that terrible gift.

[1] Commander, look!