The War of Moon and Sun

by dsmith

Rating: mature
Tags: Bat Pony, Suicide / Self Harm, Tragedy, Gore, Violence, Princess Celestia, Crossover, Equestria at War, Death, Alternate Universe, Main 6, Nightmare Moon, Thriller, Drama, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 145180

The war always makes ponies crazy. And civil one - especially.

The civil war divided Equestria into two warring camps. Princess Luna's transformation into Nightmare Moon after a failed campaign in support of the Thestrals led to the establishment of a new regime in Manehattan, and other lands on the periphery made use of it, seeking to separate as well.

Now the Harmonic Army of Princess Celestia is confronted by the forces of Equermacht, Wonderbolts and Pegasenwaffe battle for air supremacy, and internal enemies in the territories controlled by Manehattan are successfully captured by the Lunar Division. At the same time, new states are struggling for existence in the south, Stalliongrad is sharpening its claws on the lands of the Lunar Republic, and the Crystal Empire has declared its independence. And it's not at all clear what the changelings are gonna do.

Greg Mellow is a simple commoner caught by chance on the front line of battle. And all he wants in this war is to survive.

There are 20.5 chapters planned. Big ones. Really huge.
And the plot's already mapped out, so all that's left to do is write it all.

Based on the mod Equestria at War for the game Hearts of Iron IV.
The fanfic is written for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to humiliate or offend anyone. Any coincidences with real events, symbols, and characters are accidental. The author condemns any manifestation of hostility, does not promote anything, and does not encourage anything.
Translated from Russian using DeepL Translate and Yandex Browser, edited with DeepL Write. The original is here.

Published 2024-01-20 06:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2025-01-31 00:21:37 UTC

Chapter Two. Rise of Moon

1007

January

It was a calm winter morning over Canterlot.

The pegasus weather team had just finished a light snowfall, and the roofs of the houses and the royal castle were covered in a bright white blanket. The translucent, almost weightless clouds parted, revealing a pale blue, clear sky.

Obeying the magical power of the white alicorn on the castle’s upper observation deck, the sun slowly rose over the capital of Equestria.

Celestia smiled faintly as she gazed out at the majestic city perched on a narrow mountain platform – and the vast expanse of snow that stretched from horizon to horizon.

She had ruled this land for more than a thousand years, rising and setting the sun every day and, until recently (relatively), the moon as well. And she always tried to do her best, so that her subjects had nothing to blame her for and nothing to doubt her for. It was necessary to maintain the image of a wise and impeccable leader who loves and, no less importantly, protects her homeland.

However, there were also many mistakes that had accumulated over such a long period of time.

No matter how hard the Princess tried, she couldn’t keep up with all the challenges that plagued Equestria. With the return of her Night Sister Luna, Celestia had an assistant she could count on, but the two of them weren’t enough.

Still, the alicorn’s gaze was not one of worry, but of good and confident hope.

After failing Sunset Shimmer and many others before her, the Princess had finally managed to raise a worthy student who taught the ponies a new kind of magic: friendship. And though Celestia, like every alicorn, was immortal, she felt that one day she and Luna would have to retire. It was as if the Night Sister had no particular desire to be in charge of an entire country for the foreseeable future, and in light of the past, the Princess herself was a little wary of leaving Equestria in Luna’s care.

Fortunately, she now had a suitable candidate to replace her – Twilight Sparkle.

Though the former unicorn, now the alicorn and the Princess of Friendship, was unaware of the plans for her, and if she had known, her excellent student syndrome would have sent her into hysterics, Celestia knew that when the time came, Twilight would be ready to rule.

She was distracted from her thoughts by the soft tap of hooves on the marble floor.

“Good morning, Sister,” she said to Luna, who had just stepped out of the door. “Though I think I’d better wish you a good day’s sleep.”

With a graceful clatter, the smaller, dark blue alicorn princess with the flowing, star-spangled mane came and stood beside Celestia, also looking out over the beautiful lands around them.

“I have never understood why Hearth’s Warming is celebrated a few days before the actual end of the year,” Luna said. “It is more important from a calendar standpoint, marking the passing of an old life and the coming of a new one. But for some reason, ponies prefer to pay far less attention to it.”

“As you know, history chooses the dates, not us,” Celestia said with a smile. “Hearth’s Warming Day is needed by the ponies as a symbol of unity and good faith, and unlike New Year’s Day, it has its own history. But I understand you, Sister. And now, as I stand here above all of Equestria, my only wish is that all ponies have a year of love and peace.”

“Thou knowest that’s true not for all of them,” Luna said seriously.

“Yes, unfortunately,” her Solar Sister sighed. “But what can I do? Those you speak of have chosen their own fate, and I don’t know if the ponies will forgive them for their past crimes. But I can wish them happiness, too. That there, in their mountains… or in any city of Equestria, they may know that those who live now don’t bear the sins that prevented their ancestors from living in peace with the three kinds of ponies.”

“I am glad thou realizest that, Sister. Though I think thou should use some of thy power to push E.E.A.[1] to soften that page in the history books.”

“I’ll do my best, Sister. But the ponies must be able to decide, too. Otherwise, our will would have no value to them.”

“A will hath no value if it is not carried out. After all, art thou a Princess or a part-time cleaning lady?”

Celestia laughed, gently covering her mouth with her hoof.

“Your thoughts are very amusing sometimes, Luna. Maybe we should spend more time together. How about we take a little vacation and go to the Crystal Empire?”

“I do not mind,” Luna smiled. “Even we need a vacation from time to time.”

The two alicorn sisters looked down on a land that had enjoyed a peaceful life for over a thousand years.

The future seemed to be bright.

March

Six ponies were sitting at Sugarcube Corner, eating donuts and chatting animatedly.

One of them, a lavender alicorn, was recognizable as one of the now five pony princesses of Equus. However, aside from her wings, there was nothing else to distinguish her from her friends, and she listened to the pink earth pony’s passionate story along with the rest of them.

The dining room of Ponyville’s main candy shop was nearly full. Equestria Daily had recently published an article about the beginning of a ponitical reshuffle on the continent, and many took the opportunity to discuss the latest news over a cup of tea and a cupcake. And if you listen to the shrill platter of the pink narrator, you’ll get a first-hoof account of what happened, so to speak.

“…And I be like, that’s it, this time they’ll definitely reject, and we’ll no longer be such friends as we agreed before…!” she chattered, pausing only to swallow another donut. “And Chief Thunderhooves tells me…”

She tried to imitate a low voice, “We understand that you only wish us well and want to build a… (I forgot the word, some kind of) relationship. And so…” – the pink pony shut her eyes with happiness and spread her front legs – “…we accept your offer to become part of Equestria!”

Her friends responded to the end of the story with an interested cheer – as did the customers at the nearby tables, who could hear everything.

“Well done, Pinkie Pie,” Twilight Sparkle said as Pinkie munched on the five donuts in her mouth at the same time. “The Princesses and I are very grateful for your successful negotiations with the buffalo. Now there’ll be one less potential problem, and… as Princess Celestia said…” Twilight thought for a moment, “…the national focus can be turned to further development.”

“Oh dear, how much we can talk about ponitics,” the white unicorn smiled coquettishly and fixed her curly dark blue mane. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“That’s right, sugarcube, we’re just happy to be together again,” the orange earth pony in the cowpony hat nodded and took a sip of cider from a wooden mug. “Twi, I hope the Princesses ain’t gonna give us new jobs anytime soon? Otherwise, we gotta do something with what we already have.”

“Yeah, like dispersing clouds,” the blue rainbow-haired pegasus added, looking at her neighbor with a sneer. “Or climbing down into someone’s cellar for cider…”

“A-and I… I still have to look after the animals,” whispered the yellow winged pony with the butterflies on her cutie mark. “I-I’m sorry…”

“Don’t worry,” Twilight waved her hoof. “We had a successful Winter Wrap Up recently, so other than the School of Friendship, we won’t be distracted from our regular routine. But who knows – they might need Pinkie to negotiate again…?”

“Well, I’m always ready!” Pinkie said with a grin up to her ears.

“Anyway, this year should bring only good things. And I’m sure we’ll get through it all together. Because friendship” – Twilight winked, and everypony smiled happily – “is the most beautiful magic, and we carry its light into the hearts of all creatures, not just ponies! And no matter what happens,” she looked up dreamily, “friendship will finally win.”

June

Bright sunbeams shone through the office windows and cast sharp, square reflections on the paper, causing her to look up at the sky and distracting her from her work.

Princess Celestia sighed and set aside the stack of papers that required her careful attention.

Equestria was experiencing an industrial boom, with factories and plants springing up all over the place and more and more products being traded. This included weapons, which had recently reached an unprecedented level thanks to the geniuses of the Technology Council. The Princess herself was amazed at the way these pieces of metal accelerated by gunpowder gases… ah yes, bullets – pierced through what sometimes even a precisely focused magical strike could not. The crafters assured that this was far from the limit and were already designing real cannons – like the one Pinkie Pie used to shoot confetti, but much more powerful. And more destructive.

The risks were high, but Celestia realized that progress was unstoppable, and so she tried to control everything, both in economy and in ponitics. After all, weapons weren’t toys; one little mistake could lead to them being used.

And today’s news wasn’t good. A large shipment of the newest rifles Lily and Lavender, which had been a breakthrough in the development of military technology, simply disappeared without a trace in the vast expanses of the country. Four Stars Company, which had transported the shipment, denied all accusations; according to the waybills they had provided, the weapons had been delivered to Whinnyapolis and received by the local military – but according to the inspectors, they had never appeared in the warehouses.

The investigation had to be launched, and Celestia really didn’t want to do that. Her head was already full of other things, from dealing with diplomatic issues with the dragons to preparing for the Summer Sun Celebration. Luckily, the sovereign was surrounded by plenty of ponies to take care of that.

The Princess was already writing her highest resolution on a separate scroll when the office door suddenly opened and familiar silver slippers clattered across the shiny floor.

“Luna?” Celestia turned to her sister who had entered. “Is something wrong? I’m just a little busy right now…”

“T-Tia…” the dark blue alicorn began stammering, looking not very confident, but serious. “You know, I’ve been on the sidelines most of the time since I got back – behind the scenes, so to speak… Anyway, I… I think it’s time for me to take some real responsibility.”

“Sounds wonderful, Luna. We were always meant to rule together!” the Princess tilted her crowned head slightly. “Did you… did you want to tell me something?”

Luna nodded.

“Thestrals... that’s not right, Tia! There are more than three kinds of ponies in Equestria, and we must, just must, finally recognize the fourth!”

Celestia raised a hoof to speak, but her Night Sister continued, “Yes, I know about the efforts to integrate Batponies into society – think of the same educational reforms… but all that is not enough! Thestrals are still looked down upon in many places, and I think we have to change that.”

Luna sighed and bowed her head.

“I know that some of them won’t even join the others and want to stay in the mountains, but… they were my little ponies, and I failed them.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “I must do the right thing. Equestria will be a comfortable home for everyone – or no one.”

She glanced at her sister again, and now there was a glint of determination in her green-blue eyes.

“After all, it shouldn’t be much more complicated than with griffins or hippogriffs! What do you think, Tia?”

Celestia was silent for a moment, pondering her answer.

Now she understood why the Princess of Night had not been herself for so long. Once Nightmare Moon’s guilt complex had been cured, the memories of the dark times would not go away; instead, Luna had been tormented by the fate those ponies had suffered as a result of her banishment. And even after her return, many remained filled with mistrust.

But the main problem wasn’t even the Batponies. It was the Equestrians themselves. Despite their best efforts to gradually promote the idea of equality (the School of Friendship was very useful in this regard), something about the Thestrals seemed to frighten the other ponies, and the “nocturnal tribe” could only count on working as couriers, loaders, cashiers… or – a happy exception – as guards for their returned Princess.

And indeed, Celestia shared her sister’s goals. She just wasn’t ready to put them into action yet. But if Luna were to get involved herself… well, it might work.

“You can do this, Luna. I believe in you.”

Canterlot’s Castle Square was filled to overflowing. Even though it was still early morning by the clock, many ponies – thousands upon thousands – had gathered beneath the castle walls to watch their princesses lower the moon and raise the sun.

Summer Sun Celebration. Like Hearth’s Warming Day, one of the events that united Equestria’s three races. Nopony knew exactly how the thestrals felt about it, but it was common knowledge that the griffins and hippogriffs, for example, had their own analogs for the holiday. The yaks and dragons, on the other hoof, didn’t give a damn about the summer solstice.

There was a steady murmur of voices in the crowd, and those gathered – mostly unicorns, but also pegasi, earth ponies, and even the furry ears of thestrals peeked out somewhere – were talking quietly, discussing the upcoming event and the latest news from the Canterlot Times and the Equestria Daily.

“…Are you going to the Crystal Fair?”

“Of course! They say it will showcase the latest achievements from all over Equestria…”

“…The dragons refuse to give up their land to us…”

“Well, that’s reasonable: after all, they’ve been living there for thousands of years…”

“But it’s against the ideas of Harmony! Do they refuse to accept the terms of peaceful trade and mutual aid…?”

“…I can’t wait to see the stands with new military equipment at the Fair! If we could get it to the dragons, they’d give in to us.”

“Have you read A.K. Yearling’s new Daring Doo book…?”

“…Why do we even need their wastelands? Don’t we have enough land of our own? Let them live in their enclave like buffalo until spring.”

“There are a lot of useful resources there that the dragons themselves don’t use much. And we could use them for industry…”

“Pfft, we Pegasi don’t need anything but clouds…”

“…I wonder what Princess Luna’s speech tomorrow will be about…?”

“Quiet, quiet! They’re coming!”

The guards on the palace balcony sounded their horns, and the three Equestrian Princesses stepped out of the gilded doors: Celestia first, with a gentle smile on her perfect, wrinkle-free face; Luna, as serious as ever; and Twilight Sparkle, as proud and joyful as ever.

The ponies in the crowd squealed and clapped excitedly, greeting their rulers.

After waiting until everypony had made enough noise, Celestia raised her hoof, and the din began to die down. Everyone held their breath. A miracle was about to take place before their eyes.

“Greetings to all who have come to the Summer Sun Celebration today,” the white alicorn said. She didn’t raise her voice, but somehow, magically, it could be heard in every corner of the square. “As always, we are gathered here to bid farewell to the shortest night and to welcome the arrival of the longest day of the year. To watch the sun rise over Equestria. The coming of day symbolizes the triumph of goodness in the heart of every pony, and we are happy to see that year after year we succeed on this path.”

“But we must not forget the night,” Luna continued, stepping forward to stand beside her sister. “The fact that it has to be gone for a while is unavoidable, a law of nature that ensures the stability of the universe. And soon it would return with the next moonrise. After all, everything needs its own time of rest.

“Harmony means balance in the world and in the souls of those who have walked this difficult path,” Twilight said, standing on the other side of her mentor. “And if we all adhere to the principles of friendship, known as the Elements of Harmony, we can remain ourselves even in the face of external changes that affect everything around us. For friendship –” she pressed her hoof to her heart “– never changes.”

There was another loud ovation, but this time Celestia didn’t interrupt it.

To the cheers of the crowd, the reigning sisters stepped forward and tilted their graceful heads. Their horns both flashed brightly, Celestia’s glowing yellow and Luna’s cyan.

And following the magic of the alicorns, the night light in the west began to sink below the horizon, and the day light illuminated the lower edge of the sky in the east.

A new day had begun. Slowly, but inexorably, Equestria took another step into its future.

The Royal Auditorium was gradually filling up with stylishly dressed ponies. Most of them were members of Canterlot’s high society – who apparently had nothing better to do that evening – but the first few rows were reserved for the press: the discreet clothes of the journalists contrasted sharply with the pompous attire of the nobility.

Luna pulled back the curtain and sighed heavily. Even from backstage, it was exciting to watch all the ponies who had come to hear what she had to say. And what would happen when she stepped up to the microphone, standing alone in the middle of the stage…

By the way, it wasn’t her whim at all. Luna could speak in her Royal Canterlot Voice, which would reach the ears of even inattentive listeners, but Raven, Celestia’s personal secretary, had convinced the Princess of Night that an event of this magnitude should be broadcast on the radio at a volume comfortable for ordinary ponies. Two pegasus technicians worked on the other side of the stage to ensure Luna’s speech could be heard at every corner of Equestria.

Celestia was strangely absent. Since she had given her Night Sister complete carte blanche for the time being, she had decided to remove herself from the Batpony initiative, and Luna understood her perfectly well. After all, it was time to do something for the good of the country on her own.

The huge clock under the ceiling showed six o’clock in the evening. Catching the pale unicorn entertainer’s gaze, the Princess nodded nervously and shifted from leg to leg. Everything inside her felt like a knot, making it hard to breathe. The points of her prepared speech flashed through her mind.

Now the blue alicorn understood Twilight in those moments when she panicked about Celestia’s next task. Who would have thought that the second most important pony in Equestria would feel the same way.

A white unicorn in a tailcoat stepped onto the stage and his technicolor voice was heard.

“Ladies and gentleponies! Her Highness Princess Luna!”

That was it. No turning back. The only thing left to do was to go out there and say everything that had been building up in his soul over the past few months. What had been random, unconnected thoughts had now formed into something that would change Equestria.

The Princess of Night took one last deep breath and stepped out from behind the curtain. A stomp of cheering applause rang out through the vast room.

The ponies waited. The ponies believed her. And no doubt, they wanted to hear what she had to say.

Slowly, as if walking to the scaffold, Luna walked up to the microphone and tapped it with her hoof. An unpleasant beeping sounded in her ears, confirming that the equipment was working.

The time had come.

“I am pleased that so many ponies have responded to my invitation and are here in this room. But there are many more scattered throughout Equestria, no doubt ready to listen as well. And I ask that you treat my words with responsibility and understanding – for today may be the beginning of changes that will affect the lives of many… if not all of us.”

What the hay am I talking about…? Come on, pull it together, it’s time to get down to business.

“So, as you all know, a little over a thousand years ago, there were some… unfortunate events that seriously affected the land and, among other things, led to my banishment…”

The memory persisted, refusing to resurrect the memories buried deep within, but something inside Luna made her soul twist harder and harder. The Princess couldn’t stop herself – and kept talking. Though a little confused and overly emotional in some places, she was conveying the idea that had been weighing on her for months.

First, she briefly recounted the fate of the batponies after the War of the Two Sisters, making the audience feel sorry for her, then she moved on to the present and described in a nutshell Celestia’s reforms to help the thestrals assimilate into Equestrian society.

“…But all of this is clearly not enough. We cannot claim the triumph of Harmony as long as there is the slightest prejudice against any group and the slightest injustice caused by disliking somepony just because they are different from us. And so…”

Luna took a breath, holding the pause. She glanced around the room and saw that everypony was staring at her, waiting for the main point of her speech.

This was the moment to be as focused as possible.

One by one, she listed the reforms she planned to introduce herself. Change the laws, amend many documents, guarantee all Batponies the same rights to work, education and social security as Equestrians, invest millions of bits in remote regions to develop civilian infrastructure, recognize the self-government of Thestral communities, and seriously change the cultural ponitics by debunking the negative image of the Batponies.

“…and by implementing these reforms, we can invite the Thestrals to become the fourth race of Equestria!”

Finally. The words spoken.

Luna breathed a sigh of relief as she looked out at the excited audience.

“Any questions?”

At once, everyone started shouting, many jumped out of their seats, and the journalists looked as if they were preparing to rush the stage…!

A slight wave of panic surged through Luna’s soul, and the Princess took a step back – but immediately rebuked herself. What do they think they are doing…

“SILENCE!”

The Royal Canterlot Voice had its effect: the room fell quiet in an instant. Or maybe it was the microphone that screamed, causing the pegasus technicians to cover their ears.

“Keep order,” Luna exhaled in her usual tone. “Please… Uh, who is first? Raise a hoof… yes, you,” she pointed at a bespectacled unicorn with a notebook in his telekinetic grip.

“The Canterlot Times. These reforms are obviously going to be very controversial, have you consulted the public?”

“Well… I… um…”

Luna suddenly realized that she wasn’t ready to answer at all. It was a point she had completely overlooked while preparing her program. She remembered the time when she had still been skipping classes, but now it was not her teacher Star Swirl, but the audience.

And the questions were already pouring in.

“The Fillydelphia Today. Shouldn’t there be a vote on granting citizenship to new races in Equestria?”

“Yes, but…”

“The Equestria Daily. If Celestia supports these reforms, why isn’t she here?”

“It’s not really…”

Luna’s eyes darted frantically from one reporter to the other. And there was nothing she could say to any of them.

Really, it was so simple, it was literally on the surface! How could she have missed it?! All it took was a preliminary consultation, a few opinion polls in the newspapers…

But now it was too late to retreat.

“Listen up! Of course, I value every pony’s opinion. A decision like this cannot be made by force these days… We shall… uh…” Her brain caught the word that suddenly popped up. “We shall hold a referendum! Yes, a referendum to accept the Thestrals as the fourth kind… I shall announce the date later… Thank you, that’s all for now! The press conference is over!”

Unable to stand in the center of all those ponies’ attention, Luna galloped out of the hall.

As she ran into the empty dressing room, she collapsed on a chair and wrapped her hooves around her head.

What was she thinking?! What, in Discord’s name, a referendum?! And what if she loses…? The Princess could pass all these laws on her own with the approval of the other diarch – but not after agreeing to seek the other ponies’ opinions. If she tried that – not even Tia would understand her in that case.

She, Luna, wanted to give the Batponies hope – but instead, she only stole it from them.

What had she done…

A familiar dark feeling stirred inside her. She was weak… she needed strength so much…

No! It was not her thoughts. Luna, who was back on Equus, would never think that…!

She took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror.

A soft smile touched her lips.

No matter how difficult it would be to achieve what she wanted, she could do it – and bring happiness to those she had once abandoned. But for that, she needed the support of her loyal ponies. Everything was possible with a little cooperation and friendship.

It was decided. She would recruit a team of followers and activists to support her endeavors. And help everyone get used to the idea of a new Equestria of four entities.

July

Millions of lights lit up the evening city. Even though it was dark, the life was still bustling around: the streets were crowded with carriages, and the outdoor cafes were full. So, the six ponies, desperate to find a place to sit down, just kept walking along the wide sidewalk.

“I can’t believe we had to go all the way to Manehattan to get together again,” said the orange earth pony with apples on her cutie mark. “Even though there ain’t no new tasks from Celestia and Luna, it still ain’t feel right…”

“After all, Applejack, it was me who invited you here,” the white unicorn in the elegant hat smiled. “Interest in fashion has grown lately, and it’s getting harder and harder for me to leave my new boutique to go to Ponyville. But it might be a good lesson for Sweetie Belle to stay on her own…”

“We all appreciate your hard work, Rarity,” Twilight said softly, looking less like a princess and more like an ordinary pony without her crown and with her wings folded. “And it was certainly good for us to get out of our homes and meet each other, you know.”

“And remember when we went to the Crystal Fair?” Pinkie said, bouncing instead of walking as usual. “It was just… super! extra! mega! un-for-get-table!”

“Yeah!” the rainbow-haired pegasus hovering above them joined in. “There was everything! Especially those shooting things!”

“It’s called rifles and artillery, Rainbow.” Twilight sighed and shook her head. “I can’t believe that Princess Cadance and Shining Armor allowed weapons to be brought into their lands. And this is after a large shipment went missing recently and still hasn’t been found…”

“I think I saw a changeling near the military salon,” the yellow pegasus said in a thin voice, walking a little behind. “He was looking at the weapons with such interest that… oh…”

“That was Thorax, Fluttershy,” Twilight replied. “The Changeling Charge d’Affaires in Equestria and the Crystal Empire. As far as I know, he’s not on very good terms with Queen Chrysalis, so we’re in no danger from their lands for now…”

“How is Spike?” Rarity asked, changing the subject. “I heard he’s in negotiations with Princess Amber right now…”

“Yes – negotiating the official incorporation of the Dragon Lands into Equestria. It was a mistake to send the ponies there the first time... But Celestia, Luna and I have worked out acceptable terms for them, so…”

“Excuse me!”

A batpony courier on a scooter sped past the six and raced across the crosswalk at a red light, accelerating with his webbed wings.

“Are you blind?! Can’t you see we’re walking here?!” Rainbow Dash shouted after him, waving her hoof menacingly.

“Calm down, sugarcube, he’s doin’ the right thing,” Applejack said.

They stood in front of the crosswalk and waited for the green light to go on.

“No, did you see that…? And what else is this?!”

Rainbow pointed her hoof at a huge billboard with a picture of a happy batpony and a caption that read, “Don’t be an outdated fool: being thestral is so cool!”

“Luna’s been really overdoing it with these furry-eared…”

“Why don’t you like them so much?” Fluttershy asked. “Oh, I’m sorry…”

“Well… they look like pegasi… but they’re not pegasi! That’s not right…!”

“Rainbow, I think you need to reread some of the friendship lessons from our diary,” Twilight said in a calm tone, and the light blue pegasus mare shut up.

Since the lavender alicorn had learned to speak in that voice recently, it meant she was very, VERY displeased!

“I believe in what Princess Luna is doing, and I support her efforts,” Twilight continued. “Anyway, batponies also deserve their place in Equestria. Unfortunately, there’s no time to invite them to the Grand Galloping Gala, but they’ll definitely be represented at the Equestria Games… And I’ll do everything I can to make sure the vote for their rights goes smoothly and fairly. This will also help attract Thestral students to the School of Friendship…”

“Yes, everything must be like at the Grand Galloping Gala!” Pinkie exclaimed cheerfully.

But no one responded to her merriment.

With one awkwardly dropped phrase, the evening was ruined.

The six friends walked on in silence. And none of them knew yet what lay ahead for them all.

Fireworks exploded one after another, filling the evening sky with dazzling colors. In honor of the grand celebration, Canterlot had decided not to be stingy and to brighten the lives of everypony within sight of the capital. And that sight was very wide…

The ball was nearing its end. Many of the guests had left, and the huge palace hall that had been set aside for the celebration was almost empty – only a few unicorns in luxurious outfits stood in groups, talking quietly about something. Scraps of streamers and tinsel were strewn about, and confetti clung to the hooves. Shards of glass could be seen near the walls.

No doubt, the Grand Galloping Gala was a great success.

The white disk of the moon – seemingly empty without the crater pattern of a horned pony’s head – shimmered brightly in the sky. And that meant the two reigning sisters had done their work for the day.

Princess Luna stood at the tall window and gazed through the thick glass at the luminary she controlled. Whereas before she had found peace in it, now each time she felt uneasy.

Was she doing the right thing, trying to carry out her plans so hastily? Where did this desire to redeem herself for the Batponies come from? And would the Equestrians accept the new foundations?

The dark blue alicorn sighed heavily. Still, the burden of responsibility she had decided to take on was somehow too heavy.

But she will cope. She must. Otherwise, what was she worth as a princess? A mere shadow of her flawless sister – or someone in her own right?

“Luna, we need to have a serious talk,” the familiar calm voice came from behind her.

And there she is, speak of Discord.

“I’m listening, Sister,” Luna replied without turning around. “Has something happened that I don’t know about?”

“More like something that I’m sure you know about very well.”

Celestia stood beside her at the window and looked up at the sky, where the fireworks were still sparkling and hissing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” the Night Sister said softly.

But who was she trying to fool?

“I’m a little uncomfortable with the way you’re building relationships between regular ponies and thestrals. Don’t you think it’s a little… too much? I mean, to push the ideas of equality and the special historical path of the Batponies like that. I’ve heard different opinions, and I’m afraid you’ll turn some of the population even more against the new future citizens.”

“I have everything under control,” Luna replied. “There are competent ponies working with me, experts in their fields. They’ll help organize everything so that nopony can doubt the rightness of the decision.”

“By the way, when do you plan to hold this referendum?”

“Early November, I think. Right after Nightmare Night is over, when we take another step towards the general recognition of Batponies, the public will have some rest and comprehend the changes that are taking place. And once that’s done, we’ll ask for everypony’s opinion. I’ve read the reports, Tia. The polls show that attitudes towards the Thestrals are slowly improving. It just needs… a little more time.”

“Okay, that can wait… What I’m particularly unhappy about is your recent approval of two new military factories in the east of Equestria, Luna. Without my knowledge.” A hoof in a priceless golden slipper poked into the glass. “This is too serious a matter to make such decisions alone. We should work on it together.”

“What’s wrong with increasing the production of weapons to make up for the lost batch?” Luna said nonchalantly. “It wouldn’t hurt Equestria to feel fully protected. And by the way, how’s the investigation going?”

“Nothing so far,” Celestia sighed. “The local military refuse to admit guilt, but they say they don’t know anything. It feels like Discord is back to cause us trouble.”

“I haven’t seen or heard from him at all lately. I think Fluttershy sent him on some sort of pilgrimage through the meta-universes… I don’t know. He’s not coming back for a while anyway. So, it’s definitely not him.”

“Every day I think about a lot of little things like that,” the Solar Princess sighed. “And any one of them could lead to Equestria’s downfall. Do you understand, Sister? I live in constant fear for the fate of all the ponies who depend on me. And I can’t, I have no right to let go of that heavy burden. That’s the responsibility of being a princess, Luna. Not trying to play leader with populist ideas… just imagine – a chief, like in Stalliongrad! Sometimes I think,” Celestia added, chewing on her lip, “that you often don’t fully understand the consequences of your actions…”

“I understand,” Luna said sharply, turning away. “Thank you for your advice, Sister. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“Wait! Luna…!”

But the dark blue alicorn had already flown away, swooping out of the open window on the other side of the hall.

Celestia stared after her, and pain flashed in the snow-white mare’s eyes. It was the same pain that seemed long gone, left in the past.

The peace within the ruling duumvirate had begun to crumble.

August

Misty Flame didn’t have weird dreams very often. Usually, the ultramarine, green-haired pegasus saw friendships that could have been in her life or wishes that were in no hurry to come true. All the things she had missed during her boring days as a corporal in the Equestrian Self-Defense Force.

The pony kingdom had only recently realized the need for a full-fledged regular army – for a thousand years or more, the protection of the country had been left to the Royal Guards. However, they were badly discredited by the massacre they caused in the Severyana region, now Stalliongrad, after the revolution that had taken place there. And so much happened in recent years, including Nightmare Moon’s appearance, the Changeling attack, and even the Storm King’s invasion! – when the guards either didn’t think to get involved or were completely useless. And with the advent of newer and newer weapons, it seemed natural that somepony would use them instead of wearing gilded armor and throwing spears. It was like the Stone Age, to be honest.

Misty had volunteered to join the army, like everyone else: there was no compulsory military service in Equestria. Not out of any personal conviction, but simply as a job. Her salary was enough to support herself and her elderly parents, so she felt secure in that regard.

But she had never tried to serve with all her heart and soul, and she had no such goal. And every day before she went to bed, Misty thought about her life. What was she living for? What sense could she make of her own existence?

And the answer had yet to come.

Now, as she sat on the ground somewhere outside of her hometown and looked up at the stars, Misty thought: maybe there was something up there that would someday come down from heaven and give her life a definite, inescapable meaning. It would give her a purpose that she would be glad to fulfill. The strange phrase sensus vitae came to her mind, as if she had heard it somewhere. Maybe that’s what it is.

Suddenly, something around her changed – the very sensation of the illusory space around her was different. The pegasus suddenly realized that someone was looking at her. And from everywhere at once… and very coldly. Not with disapproval, but rather with a look of concern… but that otherworldly gaze still sent shivers down her spine.

Misty shrugged, trying to ward off the cold, and raised her head again…

And then she shrieked and fell to the ground.

From the dark sky above the pegasus stared the terrifying face of Nightmare Moon!

Misty opened her mouth in a silent scream and tried to crawl backwards, but her body refused to obey.

Her thoughts raced in panic. It’s just a dream, this can’t be –

“Hello, Misty,” the inky black alicorn said, melting through the gloom from the sky to the ground in front of the pegasus. The voice of the “evil goddess” sounded a bit raspy, as if amplified by a megaphone. “Don’t be afraid. Look into my eyes.”

Misty wanted to shut her eyes and turn away – never to see this monster that had desecrated the person of poor Princess Luna again! But the voice reached deeper and deeper into her soul, mesmerizing her, and the pegasus mare could no longer resist its hypnotic call. She found herself looking directly into the turquoise eyes with narrow vertical pupils that were the only thing visible in the darkness, and she suddenly calmed down. Her muscles felt light, and the tension eased. There was no danger at all – why had Misty been worried just now…?

“Good… Don’t be afraid of me – can’t you see who I am?”

Of course, Misty saw. She didn’t know how she could have mistaken Princess Luna for Nightmare Moon! The alicorn must have come to check on her dreams, like she did with her little ponies at night. And what did Misty do in return? No, she was willing to do anything to redeem herself to her Princess!

And the eyes… so beautiful…

“I need you, Misty. I need friends… for that matter, heroes – like you, for example.”

Misty’s heart skipped a beat. A Princess’ friend? A hero? She’d never thought of herself that way! But now that Luna herself had asked her to confide in her, Misty knew that she would do anything for the night alicorn.

But…

Something stirred in the back of the pegasus’ mind.

…had she forgotten something important? Misty tried to remember.

Luna stepped closer. There was nothing else around, and only the regal image of the Princess appeared in the surrounding darkness, as if lit from within.

“Look at me, Misty, and heed my word. You must follow some of my instructions…”

Misty nodded, agreeing willingly. Luna’s speech was imprinted somewhere deep in her subcortex, firmly memorized, but still her knees trembled at the thought of forgetting or missing something.

She couldn’t betray the trust of the one she had let into her dream. That would be like betraying Equestria.

The will of the Princess is inevitable. And no matter what, it shall be done.

…The next night, Misty walked through the woods near her military unit to the place Luna had suggested.

It wasn’t that difficult to get out of the camp. Though she had to take off her uniform and let the sentry admire her croup, the goal was achieved: the pegasus was allowed out and even promised to cover her when she returned. No doubt the private had a crush on her – and probably expected more in the future…

Well, I can always blow him off, Misty mentally closed the question and continued through the thicket.

Although it was dark, the corporal wasn’t afraid at all. Even in the city’s twilight, she could see monster shadows lurking behind bushes and trees, but now she was protected. Misty knew that she was being guarded by Luna, and that made her feel safer.

So, she’s probably there…

The pegasus mare stepped through the thicket into a small clearing. Her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, immediately caught a few vague silhouettes looming around her. Were these the ponies that needed her help…?

The light from the lit torch blinded Misty for a moment, forcing her to cover her eyes. When she blinked and looked up again, she found several impressive-looking weapons pointed at her chest. And the ponies holding them didn’t look friendly at all.

Misty held her breath. The numbness familiar from her last dream had gripped her hooves with tenacious fingers…

But she couldn’t let fear get the better of her now. After all, she was Luna’s friend.

And instead of all the things her imagination threw at her, she spoke a code phrase.

“It’s pretty dark out there, isn’t it?”

That was obviously the key to the situation. Relaxed, the ponies lowered their weapons.

“Ugh… don’t scare us like that again, okay?”

A light brown stallion with a dark mane, dressed in an unmarked field uniform, approached her. A rifle dangled from a belt around his neck.

Misty nodded to him with a smile and turned to get a better look at the rest of the gathering in the flickering torchlight.

A pegasus, a unicorn, a couple of earth ponies… and a thestral carefully hiding his glistening yellow eyes from the light. Regardless of their race, they all served Luna as well as she did.

Misty finally calmed down and took a deep breath. She was in no danger among them.

“Welcome, newcomer,” the stallion continued. “We’ve been warned that you’d come. Luna needs our help, and we must all pitch in. You ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

Somehow, she felt she had to answer in that way. This pony fit the role of commander well, and Misty’s military habits were unintentionally obvious.

But apparently, she made a mistake.

“Leave it out,” he said. “We’re all equal before the Moon.” And now to all gathered, “So, here’s our task today…”

An hour later, three trucks rumbled down the rocky road, approaching the gates of the neighboring military base.

The armed earth pony who had stopped them came to the front of the truck. Misty lowered the cab window and the glare of the spotlights mounted over the fence hit her directly in the eyes.

“We’re here for another shipment to Las Pegasus,” she said, holding out a fake bill of lading.

The sentry glanced at the document in the glow of his flashlight, then frowned.

“Weren’t you supposed to be here in the morning?” He reached for his rifle and pointed it at Misty. “Give me the password!”

“63 Bravo April,” she replied.

If only the code were correct…!

The sentry froze.

“This is the old royal password of Canterlot,” he said slowly.

Misty froze in the driver’s seat. This was a turn of events she couldn’t have predicted.

She guessed from the clicks and clanks coming from the back of the truck that her new comrades were preparing for battle.

The sentry clucked his tongue reproachfully as he returned the document.

“’Cause of the increased gun and ammo thefts, we started changing codes more often. Remember that next time, okay?”

Misty let out a sigh of relief and relaxed as they were allowed inside, and the trucks rolled toward the warehouses.

The weapons that were thought to be stolen were actually still here near Whinnyapolis – just passed on to the other hooves. To prevent such a situation from happening again, the military began moving weapons from nearby bases to other Equestrian cities. And the locals (not without the help of dreams with instructions from Princess Luna) decided to pocket those supplies as well. All so that Luna’s friends could begin their training.

The Guards of the Night would be ready.

Misty smiled to herself as the other troopers loaded boxes with rifles and ammunition.

The pegasus’ life now made sense. From now on, she would devote all her strength to serving Luna. And maybe one day she would really become a hero.

September

From the top step of the stairs at Manehattan City Hall, the sea of pony figures densely packed into the square was clearly visible. Here and there were posters and banners that read: “For Luna!”, “Support the Thestrals!”, “Four Races Better Than Three!”, and other such slogans.

The lights picked out her figure in the twilight, standing on the high step above all those ponies. Vendors at the edge of the square were hoofing out free cookies, lemonade, and other sweets – a bonus from the Princess equal to a year’s income erased any resentment about working “for charity.”

Intense music blared from speakers placed here and there. However, the pony now standing in front of the crowd had no microphone, unlike during her speech in the Auditorium.

An alicorn doesn’t need amplifiers to speak to her subjects.

“Batponies today live in poverty in slums and caves, separated from most of the ponies! Equestria, is this friendship?!”

“NO!!!” the crowd shouted.

Luna exhaled through her teeth, filling herself with anger. Lately, when she worked in public, it helped her deal with her excitement and stay focused.

“Now, a Batpony mother is crying because her foal is sick, and the Equestrian doctors don’t know exactly how to treat the Thestrals – and on top of that, they’re charging her higher fees because she has no insurance! Equestria, is this friendship?!”

“NO!!!”

“Today, a batpony who wanted to attend this meeting was detained and investigated by the ponice on suspicion of being a Nightmare Moon cultist! Even though she’s innocent! Equestria, is this friendship?!”

An exasperated sigh rippled through the crowd as volunteers helped the Thestral mare up the stone steps to stand beside Luna. The tiny filly was covered in tears.

“I… I ain’t done n-nothin’ w-wrong in m-my life… I don’t deserve to be t-treated like this…”

“EQUESTRIA, IS THIS FRIENDSHIP?!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” exploded the crowd with the same rage Luna felt at that moment.

The Princess looked around at the thousands of ponies gathered here to support her.

All that remained was to channel that rage.

“I stand before you now, not as a princess, but as an ordinary pony, and I ask for your help! I once made the mistake of thinking that friendship could be commanded! No, friendship is a free choice! It cannot be forced! I need your help, people of Manehattan! Will you help me give the Thestrals a happy future like the rest of the ponies? I’m asking all of you to donate and join me. On November 10th, there will be a referendum to recognize the Batponies as a fourth race, and I’m counting on your votes to support them!”

To the roar of the rally, Luna raised her hoof to the sky. Her voice rumbled like thunder in the midst of a storm.

“We will show Equestria what true friendship looks like!!!”

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” swept through the crowd.

For a while it was impossible to make out anything over the general yelling, but then someone, and then more and more ponies, began to chant.

“LU-NA! LU-NA! LU-NA! LU-NA…!”

Standing atop, the Princess reveled in everypony’s devotion and adoration. What was stirring in her soul was contentedly grinning, taking these emotions for granted.

If I have to, I’ll lead them all, Luna suddenly realized. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so determined. And no one, not even Celestia, will be able to stop us. And one day, I will achieve my goal.

No matter what it will take.

Twilight descended upon the Batpony lands. The sun disappeared behind the unfriendly mountain peaks, and a new, dark “day” came to this gloomy land of caves and cliffs. For the locals, of course, who, as one song goes, “saw a different kind of light”[2] and came out of their houses at nightfall.

After Luna’s banishment at the end of the first War of the Two Sisters, the army assembled by the night alicorn was defeated. The Thestrals had to retreat to the mountains in the northeast and south of Equestria, where they could live away from other races without changing their way of life. As time went on, the isolation they had forced upon themselves began to ease a bit; some of the Batponies found their way to the cities and sent large sums of money back home, and the first seeds of progress slowly crept into their remote mountain settlements.

Luna’s return several years ago seemed to reinvigorate the Batponies, as they became more and more interested in what was going on in the rest of Equestria. Especially in what affected themselves.

And now things were about to change dramatically again.

…The whole village huddled around the old radio. To hear better, some of them had even flown up and were now hovering above the crowd on their webbed wings. Every now and then a curious squeak could be heard. Everyone was excited to the point of trembling at what Luna was saying hundreds of miles away.

“…is this friendship?” (NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…!)

Flapping her wings, little Night Blossom jumped around her mother in excitement.

“Mommy, Mommy, the Princess is talkin’ about us! Us!”

Moonshine Stone nodded patiently.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“But why, why don’t the other ponies wanna be friends with us?” the filly asked. “That’s why Luna’s helpin’ us, isn’t it?”

The dark gray thestral mare couldn’t hold back a heavy sigh.

“Over a thousand years ago, Luna was our Princess. She lived in the night, like us, and she made the night beautiful. She loved us, and we loved her. But we didn’t tell her that. Instead, we complained to her about the other ponies, about how rude they were to us. They didn’t like our night, and they were uncomfortable at the mere sight of our wings. And Luna grew more and more lonely and sad. We let her down, and she turned into cruel Nightmare Moon for a long time. After that, the ponies became afraid of the night and chased us into the mountains, where we’ve lived ever since.”

Night Blossom wrinkled her nose as she thought about what she had heard.

“We gotta help Luna! I wanna see the Princess!”

She continued to jump around, making short, gliding leaps. Moonshine Stone thought it wouldn’t be long before the filly could fly at night.

A sharp ultrasound squeak rang in her ears – all the batponies were cheering unanimously at Luna’s words about the referendum.

“Mommy, will we get to vote too?”

“I hope so, little bat. If Luna really wants to help us, she’ll do everything she can.”

The Princess’ speech was over, and the thestrals began to leave.

“It’s getting dark,” Moonshine said. “Let’s go home. Daddy should be back soon.”

An hour passed. Night Blossom was finishing her lunch, and her mother sat beside her, watching her with tenderness and glancing at the old clock on the wall now and then.

For Luna’s sake, how long can they confer there…

The clock’s hooves came vertical, showing midnight. The door above the dial swung open, and a small spring-loaded batpony jumped out and squeaked twelve times before hiding back inside.

Night Blossom leaned back on her stool, rubbing her stuffed belly with a smile. Moonshine started to put away the dishes, when suddenly the door to the shack opened and a grim-faced blue thestral stumbled in. He dropped the backpack and rifle hanging from his back at the entrance and collapsed tiredly on the couch.

“How went it, Darky?” Moonshine asked, turning to her husband. “What was the clans’ decision about Luna?”

The batpony called Dark Horizons didn’t reply right away.

“We have decided…”

Exhausted from the long meeting, he tried to catch his breath after the long journey.

“…to protect Luna!”

“Hooray!” Night Blossom exclaimed enthusiastically, jumping around the house again. “We will help Luna…!”

Dark Horizons nodded.

“We have agreed to mobilize the clans. Batpony groups will go to the cities to help with Luna’s rallies. Some of us will guard the others…” He glanced at his rifle. “Including myself. And some… will prepare for the worst.”

Moonshine shuddered.

“Is it that bad?”

“Something’s wrong, Moony. More and more ponies are seeing Luna in their dreams. But she’s not well. We think she’s in trouble. Groups of ponies in the cities are supplying us with weapons. Modern Equestrian models…” The thestral smirked, baring his fangs. “If there’s trouble, we’re ready for it.”

“You’ll be Luna’s helper?” Night Blossom jumped up to her father. “Let’s go to town! I wanna see her! Well… please-please-please-please…?”

Dark Horizons couldn’t help laughing at the sight of his daughter’s begging snout, but it was noticeable that a shadow ran across the batpony’s face.

Finally, he said, “Well… hopefully even they won’t dare harm a foal… and it will be good if you meet the Princess. Yes, you can go with your mom.”

Night Blossom bounced happily, trying to fly up again, and turned over a chair in the process.

“Lu-u-na! Lu-u-na! Lu-u-na…!”

Meanwhile, Dark turned to Moonshine.

“We have no right to fail her now. For a thousand years we paid for that mistake. It can’t happen again.”

…Throughout the night, a shrill “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” rang out over the village.

Batponies were preparing for any outcome.

October

The faint flicker of a kerosene lamp illuminated the tent, reflecting off the metal parts of the folding army bunks. A rifle leaned against each of them, and an open box of ammunition lay on the floor near the far wall, probably so that it wouldn’t take too long to prepare the weapon when the time came.

Sergeant Sunrise Specter threw his cards in disgust on the box that had replaced the table.

“Discord, I’d come to this Celestia-cursed batpony land on a goodwill mission, and now it had turned into a search for stolen guns, and on top of that, our little lieutenant won my entire salary!”

The white pony with the dark mane, who wore a patch on her chest with the name Aurora Dusk, grinned softly as she gathered up her bits.

“Whose fault is that, I wondered? And besides, avoiding batponies is just unreal. That’s all anyone talks about in Canterlot these days. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out that the weapon was stolen by some overzealous Thestral clan to defend themselves from the wild diamond dogs.”

The dawn-sky colored unicorn nodded sullenly and lay back on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling.

“What the hay… It’s worked fine for a damn thousand years, and then along comes Luna, who, as you can see, just wants to make her mark!” Specter sighed unhappily. “She’s easy to promise – ‘cause it’s not her, it’s poor old me who’s being sent to the mountains where there’s not even a decent bathroom…”

Aurora raised her eyebrows.

“Are you going to vote against it?”

“I wanna hear Celestia’s opinion before deciding. She’s been pestered since summer with questions about what she thinks about all this crap. And she doesn’t say a word!” the sergeant snorted angrily and took a drink from a bottle of cider he had pulled from under the bed. Then he looked at Aurora. “You can’t make ponies friends by referendum, y’know? Batponies aren’t perfect, Dusk. You saw those crazy thestrals in the southern jungle where we had our first training camp! They still worship Nightmare Moon, and some of them, I imagine, may have crawled over here…”

The lieutenant opened her mouth to reply – but suddenly there was a shrill bird call from outside. It was the scout’s signal.

Quickly arming themselves with weapons and ammunition, they jumped out of the tent and made their way through the night forest to where the sound was coming from. They could see nothing at first, but as time passed, their eyes adjusted to the darkness and their ears became more aware of the rustling, occasionally interrupted by the beeping of a scout pegasus perched in one of the trees.

The two ponies climbed up a small slope and stopped when they looked into the gloom and saw something strange.

The batponies – and there were mostly them – stood in a circle in the middle of the clearing where their camp was apparently located. They didn’t need the fire – their eyes seemed to light up the clearing with their own brilliance.

But what the thestrals whispered in chorus made Aurora shiver.

“…Nightmare Moon, the secret queen of Equestria… may the darkness hide us as we embrace your darkness within us…”

Sunrise Specter spat quietly and swore.

“Bucking hay, for real, buck ‘em, the cultists!”

“And there’s a lot of them,” the lieutenant said. “Ten… fifteen… or even more. Against two of us… uh, three, including Skybolt and his sniper rifle.”

“Well,” Specter snorted faintly. “Then we have a chance to die heroes in praise of Equestria while conducting a ‘raid against some illegal units’.”

“We’ll try not to let that happen.”

Aurora straightened to her full height and pointed her rifle at the cultists.

“Stay where you are! You’re being detained by the Equestrian Self-Defense Force! If you have weapons, put them down and get your hooves on the ground! You are surrounded! Resisting is useless!”

Surrounded? Oh, who cares.

A rocket launcher slammed from the side – the sergeant had fired a flare round.

And Aurora certainly didn’t like what the white flash revealed in the night’s darkness.

At her words, the crowd scattered. Some grabbed the rifles lying here and there and took cover behind their tents, preparing to open fire. Others hid further into the forest, and there was no point in pursuing them.

And worst of all, there were not only batponies in the camp.

“Well, let’s play then,” Aurora exhaled, hiding behind a tree.

The first shot went into the sky – a warning one, so to speak.

“Surrender! Drop your weapons and you will be spared!” she cried out, even though it was too late to hope for their sanity at this point.

Bullets rang out as a reply. The cultists fired randomly at the troopers.

Celestia, please protect me, the lieutenant thought and, aiming into the darkness, pulled the trigger herself.

A few minutes later, it was all over.

Staggering with a hastily bandaged leg and croup, Aurora paced back and forth, searching the remains of the camp. Most of the cultists had managed to escape. Those who hadn’t, or wouldn’t, now lay breathless, unable to take Nightmare Moon into themselves. At least Aurora wished they weren’t.

In addition to weapons, some papers were stored in one of the tents. Sitting on the dirty mattress and groaning in pain, the lieutenant began to look through them with a flashlight.

Standing at the entrance, Specter spoke in a low voice.

“We can tell the clans about this – they’ll find the escaped thestrals… But what surprises me is that there were also earth ponies, unicorns, and even pegasi here. Do they all support Nightmare Moon? How’s that, Luna buck them all, even possible…? And why did they fight? Cultists don’t usually battle the military, but rather flee…”

“Actually,” Aurora’s voice was strangely flat and seemed to be about to break, “it’s much worse than that.”

The unicorn turned to her and noticed a detailed map of the area on the floor, with colorful arrows drawn. The white pony stared at the huge piece of paper with round, horrified eyes.

“On referendum day, they plan to attack en masse and take over Whinnyapolis…” she muttered, turning to Specter. “The mountain passages are full of these cultists! We have to do something! We have to… alert the command! Sound the alarm…!”

“Where’s the guarantee that the command’s not in cahoots with them?” objected the sergeant. “No, that’s not an option. We have to look for support among our own, among those we can rely on.”

“Then… then we should warn Princess Celestia! Immediately…!”

The unicorn shook his head.

“We won’t have time. Yes, we do have a few weeks to spare… but what’s to stop them from attacking sooner and, for example, disrupting the vote? There’s not much Batpony support in town… They’ll just bury the whole thing. But no matter how hard we try, the Princess won’t be able to give the order to get here in time. We should stay here and hold off the cultists. We can hold them off long enough to defend the town until reinforcements arrive from nearby areas.”

Aurora rose to her hooves and approached her subordinate. Looking into his eyes, she said, “We must warn Celestia. Otherwise, things will definitely get out of control.”

“You understand that it’ll be your decision, don’t you?” Specter replied. “Someone has to stay and defend the town.”

The lieutenant looked away and sighed.

“You’re right, Specter. Someone has to... I’ll leave that to you. And I –” she looked at herself critically and shook her bandaged leg where the flesh had been crudely severed by a bullet “– will have to run to Canterlot as fast as I can.”

The sergeant wrapped his front leg around her shoulders.

“You’ll be all right,” he whispered in her ear. “We’ll find a way to keep Equestria safe. I promise.”

November 3

Princess Celestia was busy with paperwork.

A thick stack of documents floated in the alicorn’s telekinetic field, and a bright red phoenix quill punched out an elegant signature. However, her personal secretary, Raven Inkwell, a white earth pony with glasses and a strict haircut, was standing by with the next batch of papers.

That’s the main drawback of absolute monarchy, Celestia thought, continuing the same routine that had become automatic over a thousand years. You have to do everything yourself and make decisions all the time. On the other hoof, there are two advantages: you can broaden your horizons, and moreover, if you want to do something well, do it yourself…

“Princess!”

A sharp shout from the doors of the throne hall snapped the ruler out of her highest thoughts.

Magically pushing aside the papers, Celestia saw a guard standing on the threshold, two others on either side of the doors glaring disapprovingly at him. The one who had run into the hall was clearly very agitated and worried about something.

“What happened?” the Princess asked, frowning. “It must be something very serious… right?”

“Your Highness,” the guard said after catching his breath. “This morning, a patrol found a wounded pony in the uniform of an Equestrian Army lieutenant near Canterlot. She has been treated and now requests an urgent audience with you. She says she’s been traveling for ten days from Whinnyapolis to deliver a message…”

“Bring her here,” Celestia said and turned to Raven, “We’ll continue this later. You may go to lunch.” And again to the guard, “What is her name?”

“Aurora Dusk, Your Highness. I’ll fetch her right a–”

“Princess Celestia!”

The white unicorn in gilded armor turned to the door and saw Aurora enter the hall. She was breathing heavily, the unwrapped end of the bandage on her leg dragging on the floor behind her.

The alicorn stood up.

“I’m listening to you, my little pony. What did you want to tell me?”

…The seal, floating in a magical glow, dipped into the ink and lowered itself gently onto the note.

Luna put aside the paper, in which she had asked Prince Blueblood to help ensure that the thestrals would be allowed to do military service as equals to the other ponies, and began to hum merrily, turning the pen with her telekinesis.

So much had been accomplished, but how much remained to be done…! The reform campaign was not easy, but necessary. And most importantly, Luna knew that she was finally doing something worthwhile besides watching dreams and the movements of the night luminary. Or rather, correcting the mistakes she had once made.

And this knowledge filled her with peace and confidence. She was even sleeping better lately…

Luna burned the note with magic, sending it to Blueblood, and headed for the exit to check out the kitchen before dinner and maybe even steal a piece of her sister’s cake…

Suddenly, the doors to the office swung open, and two gray thestrals in purple armor, who had been guarding Luna’s chambers, entered, moving backwards. A dozen of Celestia’s guards – led by the Solar Princess herself – were advancing on them with halberds drawn.

Luna froze. She hadn’t seen her sister so angry since her banishment.

“T-Tia…?” she said. “W-what’s going on…?”

“The stolen weapons have been found, Luna,” Celestia spoke. It was obvious that she could hardly contain herself. “Nightmare’s cultists near Whinnyapolis used the Canterlot codes to trick us! The royal codes! Right now, they’re preparing for the return of Nightmare Moon! With our codes!”

Luna let out a gasp. Her legs jerked up and the night alicorn flopped onto the patterned carved stool she had just gotten up from.

What Tia was talking about simply couldn’t have happened! It was… unthinkable!

This puts an end to all my efforts…

“Sister, I would never…”

Luna suddenly stopped.

Or would she?

She remembered her recent peaceful dream – but not what she had seen in it.

There was a subtle, mocking irony in it: the one who was supposed to guard the others’ dreams couldn’t control her own.

Celestia’s face softened a little.

“Probably not. But we cannot risk Nightmare Moon’s return. I’m sorry, sister, but you’ll have to stay in custody until we get to the bottom of what happened.

“And yes,” she added as the guards encircled Luna, “your referendum has been postponed indefinitely. Sorry, but that’s what we have to do. The safety of everypony comes first right now.”

Luna suddenly noticed that there was one guard less. Besides, she remembered the appearance of the one who had apparently escaped! And why did she feel like she knew him…?

Like so many others whose images began to pop into her head.

In the back of her mind, the things that had been bothering her for the past few months stirred again.

What did I do wrong…? Luna thought absently as the escort led her through the corridors of the castle. Or is it not me, but… something inside me? But… how is that possible? I believed it would never happen again…

The dark blue alicorn sighed heavily.

All right. If I have to defeat Nightmare Moon within myself, then I will. And one day, I will finish the reforms. And bring happiness to the Batponies.

November 6

The gates to the palace were locked, and that was the only thing that kept the ponies that had crowded into the square from rushing in. Guards were lined up on the walls, equipped with firearms because of the state of emergency. So far, no one had taken off to try to get into the citadel from the air.

Banners and flags were raised over the square – but not like during the Games or even the recent pro-referendum rallies. Now the banners carried the image of Luna instead of the symbol of Harmony, and the slogans had been altered to: “Stop the Tyranny!”, “Free the Princess!”, “Where Is Your Friendship?!” – and all that sort of thing.

And it wasn’t just Canterlot. All over the country – especially in the east – ponies were gathering, marching, and blockading government buildings. Most of the protesters were thestrals, but by the hour, more and more earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi were joining them. The news of Luna’s arrest had blown up the society like a real bomb.

A year ago, such a thing was unimaginable. But now it was reality.

Half of Equestria demanded Princess Luna’s return and a referendum. The story of stolen weapons and Nightmare Moon cultists was seen by ponies as a convenient excuse to roll back the changes that had already begun.

Others hid in their homes or fought back against the protesters. Many ponies didn’t care about the fight, and millions still disliked the Thestrals and supported Celestia. The only thing they wanted was order.

One of the guards on the wall squeezed his eyes shut. The noise, the crowd, the shouting… It was all a reminder of the past that he wanted so much to forget.

The Changeling invasion of 1002… The magical shield has fallen. The shape-shifting bugs are in the palace. Celestia is defeated and Luna is somewhere not here. The changelings surround him, snickering, ripping the weapon from his hooves… They put him in a disgusting cocoon, and the stallion struggles, but can’t escape… And the nightmare continues.

Something hit his helmet and the guard opened his eyes. And his breathing immediately became more frequent and nervous.

Bottles and cans flew at the guards, eggs and rotten mangoes – the favorite fruit of the city’s batponies – smashed against the white stone walls. The roar of indignation in the square grew louder; it seemed that the crowd would soon become so angry that they would indeed storm the gates.

This could not be allowed! That… would be unthinkable…!

The hoof clenched on the trigger of the rifle.

The rumble of gunfire was deafening. Almost inexperienced in shooting, the guard marveled at how loud this new weapon was.

Then, as he realized what he had just done, he broke out in a cold sweat and his legs began to shake.

The shouts of the crowd turned from angry to frightened. Pushing and shoving one another, ponies began to flee from the square. And on the cobblestones in front of the gate lay a bleeding batpony with a hole in his chest.

In a matter of hours, the news would spread like wildfire across the land. A royal guard, charged with keeping order and protecting Equestria, as they would say – especially in the east – had “cold-bloodedly shot” an innocent protester.

And many will know. Even with their prejudices, they’ll know that it was not harmony. It was not friendship.

And they’ll take to the streets again, marching together against injustice.

Luna was crying as she lay on the floor of her chambers, which had been transformed into a luxurious, well-guarded prison. Celestia and Twilight stood nearby, looking sadly at the Night Princess.

The dark red sunset cast a bloody glow through the tall windows. Outside, the din of the crowd continued for the third day in a row.

“It was all me…” Luna said between sobs. “All the time. Nightmare Moon inside me… was c-collecting an army while… while I slept peacefully!”

She looked up with her reddened eyes.

“Sister… Twilight… please do… anything! I don’t want any more ponies to suffer! Please…!”

“It’s not your fault!” Twilight replied eagerly, shaking her head. “We’re going to fix this. We’ll gather the Elements of Harmony, draw out Nightmare Moon’s spirit, and banish her from your mind once and for all! It’s going to be okay, Luna, you’ll see.”

Suddenly, the sound of gunfire came from the street, and the tone of the screams changed.

Twilight and Celestia froze, stunned, while Luna began to tremble again, barely holding back sobs.

“What have I done… WHAT HAVE I DONE?!”

Abruptly, she pulled her hooves away from her face, feeling a familiar wave of darkness rise from within. One that had been gathering strength for a long time – and now was finally powerful enough to break through.

No! This can’t be happening! Not again…!

“Please help me!!!”

Luna stretched out her hoof to her elder sister and her apprentice.

“Oh no…” Celestia whispered as she stepped back, creating a magical shield around herself and Twilight.

She’s realized what’s happening too!

The darkness was seething, bubbling up inside her – and it looked like it was about to overwhelm her. In a panic, Luna tried to suppress it by turning to her own good memories…

But it was already too late. The process had gone too far.

The sobs gradually turned to agonizing coughs. The darkness came flooding back, and in the next instant, the Princess’ eyes saw the world in a different way.

Nothing held her back anymore. She was free! Free…!

She laughed, and her laughter echoed throughout the bedroom. Her body felt an unprecedented surge of energy – and the Princess was ready to use it!

“Luna, no…!” came the cry of a small lavender pony from behind the shield.

Twilight… Sparkle, it seemed. Oh yes, Luna remembered that little upstart, who had gotten more attention from her sister in a few years than she herself had gotten in all her life…!

However, a new, cooler mind told her that dealing with the two of them was disadvantageous. If she entered the fight now, she might as well lose. Again.

And she couldn’t afford to lose! Not after her people had had their dreams taken away and their nascent hopes trampled into the dirt.

But she knew where to go. Knew where she could get support.

With another wave of eerie laughter, she turned to the window and with a single burst of magic blew it out, along with a huge chunk of the wall.

Fresh November air rushed into the bedroom. She opened her eyes and saw the rapidly darkening sunset sky for the first time.

Celestia had already set the sun down. Then it was time to raise the moon.

Laughing, the Princess spread her wings and flew outside! Her horn lit up with a turquoise glow, and a bright white disk began to creep out from behind the horizon.

Night was coming. Her night! Hers, and nopony else’s!

And from now on, the night would last forever!

The protesters, who by now had almost completely left the square, roared with joy. Batponies by the dozens soared into the air to defend her escape.

“You idiots, this is not Luna!” Celestia yelled from the castle.

The guards on the walls began firing. But the Princess of Night didn’t care.

Surrounding herself and her ponies with a shield, she flew away, heading for Manehattan.

Batponies were flying with her. Her loyal warriors. Her new army.

November 7

“…ponies of Equestria! A thousand years ago, I committed a great evil and was banished to the moon by my sister, who made every effort to return and restore my identity. In doing so, she saved me, and I am indebted to her.

“With an unspeakable sadness in my heart, I must now repay that debt. Celestia, terrified of batponies and imaginary threats, went mad, had me arrested, and ordered the guards to shoot at the crowd of protesters outside the palace. Celestia is no longer the kind sister I once knew – she has become Daybreaker, a cruel monster of fire and fury!

“From Manehattan, I work to defeat my sister and put an end to her madness, just as she did for me long ago. I call upon all ponies who love peace and order, be they thestrals, pegasi, unicorns or earth ponies, to join me in defending our nation and restoring a new Harmony!

“Together, we will build a free Equestria, where tyranny and treachery will not exist, where all ponies – regardless of race – can feel needed! Join me in fighting back against those who would take that dream away!

“Starting tomorrow, everything will change. We will turn a new page in history, and we will begin it by fighting the Solar Dictatorship. Fight for your future, ponies! It belongs only to you –”

Celestia’s horn glowed, and the radio went silent, stopping the broadcast.

The two princesses, of Sun and Friendship, stood alone in the throne room. Even Raven, that omnipresent white shadow, was not there now.

A diffuse pale light shone through the stained glass: the pegasi had clouded the sky on the ruler’s command. Not only as a sign of mourning, but also because the moon had not yet descended.

One thing was good: the people of the capital were no longer in protest. Anyone who opposed the authorities had left the city the night before. And the Batponies had to do it in an orderly fashion. There was no guarantee that they wouldn’t storm the palace again.

With her eyes wide open, Twilight breathed heavily, coming to her senses after what she had heard. Celestia looked sadly at her apprentice, seeing her in agony.

Suddenly, Twilight gritted her teeth and frowned.

“It’s her who’s gone mad!” the lavender pony shouted, using her magic to pick up the radio and throw it across the room at the wall.

The receiver shattered into many pieces.

A guard peered into the room at the noise, but the look Celestia gave him made him disappear behind the doors.

“How dare she…” Twilight muttered, turning back to her mentor. “HOW DARE SHE?!”

“It’s my fault,” Celestia said with her eyes closed, and Twilight’s anger was blown away. “I should have paid more attention to what was going on. I was so caught up in other things that I missed the moment when I should have stepped in.”

“P-Princess… No, you couldn’t have known! This… this is just a mistake! If we go to Manehattan, we can, uh –”

“And how will they let us in?” Celestia turned and walked over to a stained-glass window depicting the six ponies, the Elements of Harmony. “Luna had gained too much power in Equestria. Now half the country to the east of us is out for blood. Our blood, Twilight. Of course, there are still some ponies out there who are still sane, but their voices mean nothing now. I fear even the power of the Elements will not be enough to sway the minds of millions like Luna did.”

She glanced at her apprentice, and Twilight was horrified to see the pain in her mentor’s eyes.

“A war is coming, Twilight. A great war. One we haven’t seen in a thousand years. And unfortunately, there’s no way to avoid it. And the military factories my sister has built in the East – I admit, without a second thought – will help her cause us great trouble.”

“But we can’t just sit around and do nothing!” Twilight exclaimed. “I’m going to Ponyville right now! We’ll gather all six… along with Starlight – and figure out what to do! Shining Armor and Princess Cadance will do the same. And you can gather the Pillars of Equestria! I’m sure Star Swirl will be able to tell us someth–”

She paused, noticing that Celestia had grown even sadder.

“Wh-what’s… with Star Swirl?” The white alicorn didn’t answer, and Twilight’s face fell again in horror. “No… no… no, no, no, no…!”

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” Celestia sighed. “The news came this morning… Star Swirl was killed by an agent of Hiropterra on his vacation on Mount Aris. A Batpony cook slipped him a poisoned fugu fish… The authorities of Hippogryphia sent their condolences and sentenced the killer to life imprisonment under water, but… Star Swirl can’t be brought back. And the others… I don’t know where they are.”

She lifted her gaze to the lavender pony. There was only acceptance and determination in her eyes now.

“Nopony can help us, Twilight, except ourselves. Go to Ponyville and bring your friends to me. Anyone else I need, I’ll write to them myself. It’s time to gather the team for the great battle.”

Hooves in blue metal slippers clattered across the shiny black stone floor. The large desk in the center of the room was littered with drafts, plans, and notes. An upturned coffee cup lay orphaned on the edge.

A bluish glow engulfed the trash and hurled it with a powerful toss against the far wall. An inky black alicorn in shimmering blue armor stomped nervously, and the sound echoed through the hall.

A meeting with a group of activists loyal to her had just ended, where they had outlined a plan for the new state. Luna hadn’t expected to have so many things to work through. A whole day wasn’t enough time to discuss even half of them. After all, Celestia was in charge of most government affairs in Canterlot, and she had more experience with that.

But I’ll manage, the Princess told herself, looking out from the skyscraper at Manehattan’s business district. I must make it through. It’s the only way I can prove that I’m better than Celestia. Batponies should be rewarded for centuries of isolation.

She remembered flying here this morning. The thestrals who had accompanied her had grown tired along the way and had each descended to their own village. She let them go – they had done more than enough.

The whole city seemed to have come out to greet the Night Princess. Traffic was blocked as she marched through the wide streets, showered with moonflowers and night lilies. At the mayor’s invitation, Luna stayed in a new high-rise, unofficially named Tenpony Tower. The skyscraper in the heart of Manehattan had only recently been built and wasn’t yet fully occupied. So far, only radio was broadcast from here.

But when the Princess disappeared into her new tower, those who opposed her return raised their heads.

Ponies took to the streets with banners reading “Down with Nightmare Moon!” and “Hail Celestia!” and were mercilessly paddled by the ponice. Here and there, Luna’s supporters clashed with those who opposed her – of which, by the way, there were still many. And with each passing hour, the situation just got more and more heated.

Meanwhile, the radio and postal pegasi were constantly bringing news of which towns in Equestria had recognized the rule of the Lunar Princess. In other words, the revolution had already won there. So it would win in Manehattan too. Just needed a little more time.

Luna started towards the door to inspect her quarters on the floor above, when suddenly the intercom on the wall came to life.

“Your Highness, you have a visitor.”

Luna stopped and thought for a moment. She didn’t want to see anypony right now, but… There was still a break, so she could give the visitor some of her precious time... besides, she might even be well entertained.

But it wouldn’t hurt if she played it safe.

“Who?” asked the Princess, telekinetically pressing the answer button.

“A unicorn mare. She says she’s on important business. We searched her, but all she had with her was a briefcase with some documents. No storage, combat or tracking amulets. No explosives or weapons in the briefcase either.”

“Put a ring on her horn and let her in,” Luna ordered and stood in front of the entrance, ready to meet the unexpected visitor.

The door opened and the guest entered the meeting room, carrying a rather large briefcase in her teeth by the hoofle.

She was a light orange pony with a red-yellow mane and a cutie mark in the shape of a fiery sun. She looked familiar to Luna, but the recent transformations had clouded the Princess’ memory, so the visitor’s name didn’t come to mind.

The unicorn set the case down on the wall and bowed low, crouching down to the very ground. The magic-blocking ring on her horn made her look even more submissive.

“Stand up,” Luna said. “And tell me your name, child.”

“Shimmer. Sunset Shimmer,” the unicorn replied, rising. “I’m honored to be here, Your Highness…”

“Let’s do without that. I don’t like idle chatter. So why are you here?” The Princess raised her chin, towering over her guest. “What is this important business that has brought you to me?”

Sunset Shimmer smiled.

“I just want to help you win. That’s all.”

“Really?” Luna raised an eyebrow. “And why would you want to do that? Other than to avoid incurring my wrath on future vanquished, of course?”

“I have my own score to settle with Celestia,” the unicorn replied, “so we have what you might call a mutual interest. With my help, you can consolidate your power – and pave the way for all your plans to come to fruition.”

“You mean the Thestrals, whose rights I fought for were recently trampled upon by my beloved sister?”

“And not only them.” Sunset glanced at the pile of papers near the far wall. “May I?”

Waiting for Luna’s slightly surprised nod, the unicorn crossed the room, picked up the pile of discarded notes with her teeth and walked over to the table. She spread them out and gazed at the Batpony activists’ mouth-written scribbles.

“The New Lunar Republic? Not bad – at least lets everypony know who they’re dealing with… But…” Sunset looked at Luna with a smile. “You do realize that it’s not enough, don’t you? You need a clearly organized structure and with it symbols that represent your power.”

“We are working on that,” Luna said, tilting her head and looking at her interlocutor with interest. “Or do you have your own suggestions?”

“If I may…”

Sunset went back to her briefcase, took something out and put it on the table.

Luna came closer. In front of her lay a purple shoulder band with a white moon painted on it – as if at the end of its cycle on a clear night.

“The ponies are wearing them all over the city now to show their support for you,” Sunset said. “You are a symbol to them. And what better symbolizes a pony than her cutie mark?” The unicorn glanced at the Princess’ flank, where the same image had been placed. “So in a way, we have no choice. But it wouldn’t hurt for the state to have a real coat of arms, so to speak.”

She pulled up a briefcase and began to take out the sheets of paper.

On them were sketches of what would be the emblem of the New Lunar Republic. One of the drawings caught the alicorn’s attention – the one with a vertical horn and wings spread out to the sides on a dark background.

Luna touched the sketch with her hoof as she looked at it.

“Excellent choice, Your Highness,” Sunset said. “I’m sure your followers will like the new flag. Now,” she sat down in one of the chairs, “we can get down to the essentials.”

“You have a plan of your own?” The Princess arched an eyebrow. “How could a pony like you know enough to figure that out?”

“I was actually Celestia’s personal apprentice before Twilight Sparkle, in case you don’t remember. And as for the plan…”

The unicorn jumped down from her chair and began pacing under Luna’s intense gaze.

“On one of the worlds, some time ago, there was a state whose authorities wanted to build a perfect society – in their own way, of course… just like you. But failure awaited them: crushed on all sides, they lost their war…”

“Lost?” the alicorn frowned. “Why do you suggest we become like the losers, then?”

“They lost,” Sunset continued softly, “because they made some serious mistakes. For example, they underestimated the spirit of the people of one of the countries they attacked… But we’ll come back to that. Well, they wanted to establish the dominance of a superior race everywhere, and they pursued their ponicy accordingly. You have Batponies as that race, don’t you?”

She pointed with a hoof at a note titled “Benefits and Privileges for Thestrals,” then sighed and sat down again.

“But since there are several pony kinds in Equestria at the same time, such a racial division would be difficult and, more importantly, dangerous to enforce.” Sunset pulled a few more pieces of paper out of her briefcase. “Actually, I see two main options here. The first is that you can still give Batponies more freedoms than others, justifying it with the fact that they’ve been oppressed for thousands of years… but in this case even your most ardent supporters may have questions. The second is that even if everypony is equal in law, in life Batponies will turn out to be… a little more equal. And then the benefits to them as compensation for oppression will be taken for granted by the rest. And with dissatisfied ones it will be possible to do… some educational work. After all, a little chaos gives you even more control over society… if you know what I mean,” the unicorn added, smiling ingratiatingly.

Luna seemed lost in thought.

“I wonder…” she murmured finally, pushing back her chair with magic and sitting down next to Sunset. “But to build such a society, we must first ensure its safety. I need an army, Shimmer, not idle talk!” The alicorn leaned her black muzzle toward the unicorn. “Destroying Celestia is the most important thing right now – because she would surely strike first!”

“If you put your emotions aside and think rationally, you have a good chance of starting the fight on your own terms,” the unicorn shrugged. “I’ve read the reports on the wartime industry… and the part that recognizes you is doing much better than Celestia. And as for the army… just look around!” Sunset waved her hoof at the panoramic window. “Thousands of ponies will be happy to fight for you! At the same time, the disgruntled ones can be sent to the front. So you will win anyway.”

She slid another sheet of paper to Luna.

“I’ve prepared a rough description of what it might look like. As you can see, it’s pretty simple in general terms…”

The Princess ran her eyes over the lines.

“Equermacht... Pegasenwaffe… Lunenerbe, Lunabwehr, Gestapony… What do these names even mean?”

“Well, I could say that they’re based on the words of an ancient griffin dialect – the Wingpony language spoken by Pegasi and Batponies thousands of years ago was closely related to it,” Sunset said, clearly holding back a smile. “Or – that they’re just the names of the power centers of the regime we’re going to cosplay. But whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. After all, we can easily cover up what all these units will be doing with new and unfamiliar words.”

“So… and what else is this…?”

The unicorn followed Luna’s gaze, which stopped on a two-letter abbreviation.

“Ah, that… You’ll need extra troops to keep order, right?” The Princess gave a slow nod. “I’ve been trying for a long time to find a suitable acronym that would sound impressive and mysterious at the same time, and the name itself would be clear in spirit, but not in essence. And why the ‘Lunar Division’… just sounds good to me. What do you think?”

“I like it,” the night mare grinned. “Do you have anything else to offer me?”

“Just… a few ideas you might want to consider. The rank system in the army, for example, could be combined with the Changeling system to confuse the other Equestrians and see how the bugs themselves would freak out.” At this point, Luna laughed out loud, and Sunset continued, “And it would be a good idea to have separate ranks for the LD to differentiate them. There will also need to be new military uniforms and insignia…”

“I’ll take care of that. What’s next?”

“Why don’t you think about changing your title?” Luna froze, and Sunset hastened to explain, “It’s just that, you know… the title of Princess and the use of ‘Your Highness’… well, let’s just say it refers to the days of the former Equestria. With which, for the record, we are on the verge of direct war. So… it would be hard to understand if you were holding on to the past.”

“That makes sense,” Luna said.

“I’ve also prepared some options here…”

“Eqführer… Horsehoofer… Horsecoacher… Do you want me to break my tongue?”

The alicorn looked at Sunset with displeasure.

“Of course not!” the unicorn shook her head. “You are free to decide as you think best.”

“Thank you for letting me,” Luna replied sarcastically and thought for a moment. “Horsecoacher… I think that’s good enough. Anything else?”

“You have the whole East almost from Canterlot on your side now. The ponies, including myself, have recognized you as their new supreme leader… But perhaps it would be useful to enshrine that in law? Arrange an election, and then not even Celestia can challenge your right to rule.”

“What’s the point of an election if I know that even here, not everyone is for me?” Luna said sharply, pointing at the street. “Would there be a riot if that were the case?”

“And that’s where the mechanisms I told you about come into play,” Sunset smiled again. “You have the absolute support of the Batponies, which means that their votes will definitely be more important to you. And if we stick to the concept of racial division, it wouldn’t hurt to rank the opinions of the other races according to how much they support you. So let’s say that the vote of a thestral counts for five, a pegasus (since they are the closest to the Batponies genetically) counts for three, a unicorn counts for two, and an earth pony has no change. Futhermore, you can persistently convince them to vote for you, because there will be no other candidates. And who needs an unrecognized, rebellious state without a legally elected ruler?”

The unicorn suddenly became serious.

“Though all the Batponies’ current merits lie in the fact that they happily jumped on your support for ‘Luna’s cookies’ at the rallies – and you can’t forget that even for a moment. Once something goes wrong, out of control – and it will be extremely difficult to restore everything. If it doesn’t happen at all that everything crashes down.”

“Don’t worry, child,” Luna said. “I shall do everything I can to prevent that from happening. My ponies will be kept safe. My enemies will curse the day they dared to oppose me.”

Suddenly, she frowned.

“But even with all the advantages, if I fight Celestia, I might lose. I need something that will allow me to win no matter what!” She leaned over to Sunset, fixing her eyes on her. “Do you have that, my little pony?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the unicorn replied without flinching. “Oh, I mean, sorry… Horsecoacher. How dare I come here and give you advice without having something really valuable in return?”

She opened the briefcase and tossed the remaining papers on the table.

“These are blueprints for weapons and technologies this world has never even dreamed of. With them, you can not only defeat Celestia and take over her territories, but also dictate your will to the rest of the world. When the current threat is over, of course.”

Sunset’s hoof came down on a stack of blueprints and technical instructions.

“Even if Celestia had a cadre of the best engineers, it would be at least fifty years before they could understand these inventions, much less replicate them.” The unicorn’s grin turned sinister. “But we won't give them that much time.”

“Should I ask where you got all this stuff?” Luna snorted ironically.

“You can assume that I, like Daring Doo, raided the tomb of an ancient mad scientist. Or, for example, that these notes were left to me by myself from the future, using a time travel spell. In the end, it doesn’t matter how I got them. What matters is how we can use them now.”

“That’s fine. But you’re not just showing me this for no reason, are you?” Luna looked down at her guest, as far as her height allowed. “What do you want for your help?”

Sunset looked pleased, as if the conversation had gone exactly according to her own script.

“I’ll give you all this work of my own free will. And in return…” She pretended to think. “Your favor will be enough for the beginning. And when things settle down here and the war with Celestia is in full swing,” Sunset looked up into Luna’s eyes like a suckling foal, “I’d like to be one of your generals. To be on your team and to help direct the course of events is all I desire.”

Nightmare Moon’s grin turned satisfied.

“You shall have what you ask for, child. Serve me faithfully and I won’t neglect you. I give you my word. The word of a lunar alicorn.”

Sunset bowed her head with a smile.

“It’s my pleasure to serve you, Horsecoacher. From now on and forever. After Celestia, I realized I needed a new mentor. And I’m sure there’s much I can learn from you.”

Some hours later, Sunset left, leaving Luna alone. The unicorn didn’t take the case, explaining that she trusted the new ruler and believed in her kindness and generosity.

Well, well, the Princess thought to herself as the door closed behind her guest. You can play around if you want to. The alicorn looked at the papers that had been left behind. I hope you’re not deceiving me, because if you are, I shall decide your fate. In the same way that you yourself have suggested how to deal with those who don’t want to bow down.

Luna rose from her chair and walked to the window.

The sky was already darkening, and the moon disk that had remained there since last night was becoming more and more visible against the background. It will be necessary to put it down in the morning, the alicorn sighed. I have to follow the rules so the disasters don’t destroy the world before I can take it over.

A fleeting wish touched her soul. Turning her head, Luna’s gaze stumbled upon a tall cabinet in the corner that held a record player. After levitating the paper envelopes with records, the princess chose one, placed it on the rotating disc and set the needle to the soundtrack.

The hall was filled with the sounds of Neighthoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.” Luna had always loved this music – it reminded her of who she was, and she felt a strange unity with the old composer’s work, which was written as if about her. Especially when she listened to it in the silence of the approaching night.

The cello softly played a gentle melody, as if drawing the canopy of the dark sky, and it was echoed by the short notes of the lyre, so similar to the sparkling stars in the darkness. Two great performers, Octavia Melody and Lyra Heartstrings, joined together to let everyone see this calm, majestic picture in their imagination.

As she listened to the music, Luna looked up at the city – her city – and watched the action unfold beneath the skyscraper windows with the frightening and yet exciting name “revolution.”

More and more ponies came out onto the wide street. Some of them were carrying flaming torches, and the pavement, on which the carriages could barely pass, seemed from above like a cluster of bright lights. And in their glow, the homemade banners and flags appeared more and more clearly: pro-Luna on one side, Harmonical on the other. Only occasional shouts came through the thick windows, otherwise it was quiet. And only the measured sound of the sonata occupied the Night Princess during these minutes.

The pensive and slow first movement was over, giving way to a second, more cheerful and brighter one. Luna imagined that at this very moment her light was emerging from the clouds and illuminating the whole world – and everything around was glistening in its pearly pale radiance.

Meanwhile, the crowd on the street finally started moving. The two camps came together closely, but there had not yet been any hoof-to-hoof fighting. The shouts grew louder and angrier; the ponies argued verbally, occasionally trying to tear off their hooves or damage each other’s flags. And the ponice watched from the sidelines without getting involved. Purple legbands could be seen on the sleeves of some of them.

The record was finished on one side, and Luna turned it over before putting it back into the player.

Now the third, her favorite part, was about to begin. “Nightmare.”

A few seconds of hissing – and then fast, nervous passages burst into the space of the room. The sonata was written for piano, but Octavia’s skill allowed her to draw out the restless ascending arpeggios perfectly. On the linking motif and the second theme, Lyra joined in, weaving the tense tinkle of her strings into the melody. And it really sounded like a surreal dream in which the listener had to run away from the night monster in mind.

And that monster was her, Luna. Or rather, her current identity. Nightmare Moon.

Luna laughed.

Let her enemies fear, for her friends know that they are pure before her!

…Meanwhile, on the street what the last movement of the sonata represented began.

A thrown torch set fire to the banner of the two alicorns – and the ponies went wild. Luna’s supporters, along with the ponice, attacked those who were for Celestia. Hooves, clubs, and baseball bats were used; white jets of tear gas exploded here and there. Some ponies set fire to others and continued to beat them down, ignoring the fire. Those who couldn’t get up or move were trampled and even jumped on to finish them off.

Insanity reigned around Tenpony Tower.

The main and secondary themes followed each other as the battle raged outside. Pistol shots cut through the noise a few times, adding some terrified screams to the cacophony of the battle.

By the time the less epic but more disturbing middle section began, Luna’s opponents found themselves almost surrounded in the center of the street. And the crowd, with the support of the ponice, began to push them slowly but steadily toward the opera house building, which was to the left of where the night alicorn was watching the fight.

Luna curled her lips in a grin, revealing her fangs.

With each passing minute, what was happening became more interesting.

Defenders of Harmony had no choice. With kicks, clubs, and volleys of gas, they were driven into the theater. Some of Luna’s supporters broke away from the crowd to go around the building and lock the back door for their enemies.

Celestia’s followers tried to force their way out, but their laughing opponents blocked the doors with a heavy van. From the inside, powerful blows struck the barrier, but the wagon only swayed in place.

The main theme of the finale was back. And as if on cue, bottles of flammable mixtures and torches flew into the windows of the theater! The crowd roared with joy as they saw the flames bursting out of the building.

The stream of shells did not stop. Meanwhile, a bonfire was burning in the middle of the street, with flags of united Equestria, posters of the Solar Princess, and even a few charred corpses. The ponies were destroying the symbols of their former state with a kind of mad fury.

Those trapped in the theater threw themselves out the windows and jumped from the roof – only to be brutally killed by rioters and ponice down below. Pegasi tried to carry earth ponies, and unicorns tried to float through the air – but they were all cynically shot down from the ground, preventing them from leaving the battlefield.

The fire quickly engulfed the entire opera house. Even from here, on the twenty-eighth floor, the screams of ponies being burnt alive could be heard clearly.

A satisfied smile froze on Luna’s face.

The finale of the “Moonlight Sonata” was now approaching its coda.

Inside the opera house, something collapsed and powerful jets of flame shot out of the windows. The crowd greeted them with a cheerful roar.

“LU-NA! LU-NA! LU-NA!”

The final chords sounded, and the player fell silent, ending the record.

But the ponies gathered below didn’t leave. Amidst the garbage, blood and corpses, burning flags and banners of the former, peaceful times, they celebrated their victory.

The moon had risen fully over Manehattan.

Tomorrow will be a new day. A day when Equestria will tremble.

As the new ruler was later told, there was one district in the city that had turned completely against her.

Bridle Beach was populated mostly by Stalliongrad immigrants, as well as northeasterners who had moved to Manehattan after the revolution of 995 in Severyana and wished to remain in Equestria. However, they felt close to the seceded communists and supported Starlight Glimmer’s ideology of Equestrian socialism. Therefore, when they realized what was happening, they strongly opposed the sole authority of the Lunar Princess.

The rioters who attempted to attack were met with fire from rifles and machine guns left over from the residents’ fighting past or purchased from smugglers. Fierce urban fighting broke out on the outskirts of Bridle Beach and continued throughout the night.

Luna’s followers suffered heavy casualties, and the alicorn ordered them to retreat.

But nothing was over yet.

The area was cordoned off, and only the rare supply trucks were allowed to pass through the barriers. The ponies who had stood up for their freedom were effectively trapped in a ghetto with no way out.

And no matter how long this precarious balance lasted, one day tensions would rise. And then everyone would be in trouble.

Both the locals – and those who would come to kill them.

November 8

Early morning, the Equestria Daily’s Manehattan office was quiet and empty.

Despite the rioting in the city, the paper had managed to produce and sell double its circulation yesterday. The new edition had been printed by nightfall, and right now foals and batpony carriers were delivering it to the mailboxes of subscribers and selling the fresh copies, still warm and smelling of ink, on the streets.

In the common area of the newsroom, only a couple of bored reporters were on duty, and a little lemon-cream pegasus with a nametag around his neck that read “Featherweight, junior intern” was scrubbing tables of spilled ink and coffee. And from an office in a side corridor came the editor-in-chief’s snoring.

The rest of the staff went home, trying both to avoid inadvertent mess and to get as close to the scene as possible so that they would have something to write about in the next issue. So, in a way, it was much safer to stay in the newsroom.

At such moments, bad writers like to insert phrases like “Nothing foreshadowed disaster” and so on. And if it had been an article in the same EqD, it would have been either on the front page or near the end, in the column with all sorts of nonsense.

However, the sleepy peace of the morning shift was rudely and unexpectedly interrupted.

Out of nowhere, some sort of company appeared at the door of the newsroom. A tall stallion swung the front door open with his hoof, shattering the glass as it hit the wall. The mare reporters froze at their desks, mouths agape, and a rag fell from Featherweight’s tiny hooves.

A group of ponies entered the room. And that would have been fine, but the sudden guests looked… rather sinister. They were all dressed in dark jackets and cloaks, and wore black caps without cockades, looking like ponice officers. But most importantly, each of them wore the familiar “lunar” legband on their sleeve.

A well-groomed gray earth pony with a dark mane, in which a resident of even the remotest town would have recognized the unsurpassed cellist Octavia Melody, stepped forward. And it was even more unimaginable to see her in the “uniform” of Luna’s follower.

“Where is the boss?” Octavia asked demandingly and gave the trio a stern look.

The mares were still in a stupor. Only Featherweight, shrunken, pointed his hoof in the right direction without a sound.

“Come on,” Octavia waved to her companions, and they all moved toward the door, which was padded with reddish-brown dermatine.

After waiting for their group to disappear into the hallway around the corner, the little pegasus spread his light wings. He flew up and peered through the observation window under the ceiling of the office, which had been installed during the last renovation.

From here everything could be seen and heard clearly.

A square-faced white unicorn, dressed in shirt and tie, slept at his desk with an unlit cigar between his teeth – until the leg of Octavia’s mighty companion kicked the locked door, leaving it hanging on one hinge.

“Huh? What?” the editor-in-chief looked up sharply and blinked.

“Are you the boss here?” Octavia asked him.

“Y-yes, and… what? Who are you?” the unicorn frowned. “I’ll call the ponice right away…”

“By order of Her Excellency Immortal Horsecoacher Luna, all print media on the territory of Manehattan, including your newspaper, are transferred to the ownership of the New Lunar Republic,” said the earth pony, as if she was reading some kind of manual in her mind. “In addition, the name of the Equestria Daily is officially changing to the Equestria Nightly. From this day forward, all issues must be published under that title.

“And while we’re on the subject of issues…” Octavia shook a large stack of sheets from her discreet but spacious bag onto the table, which was littered with scraps of paper and cigar ashes. “You will print an emergency edition today where you will publish all these documents.”

“W-what’s in them?”

Dumbfounded by such pressure, the editor-in-chief just floated along.

“Horsecoacher Luna’s decrees from today. First, the formation of a New Lunar Republic in the territory under her control. Lunarchy is declared as the state system, official religion is the Night Cult. Supreme governing body is the Lunar Chancellery, government membership will be determined later. The bit remains the monetary unit, but the gold standard is removed – paper money is now permitted.

“Second, the Republic declares war on the outlawed government of the so-called Princess Celestia.” At Octavia’s words, the unicorn’s eyes bulged, and Featherweight’s own jaw dropped. “To wage the war, it is announced that the NLR Armed Forces have been created, consisting of a land army – the Equermacht, an air force – the Pegasenwaffe (including the Shadowbolt landing parties), a navy – the Coltsmarine, and special forces – the Lunar Division. As such, all members of the Equestrian Self-Defense Force within the Republic must swear an oath to the Immortal Horsecoacher. Disobedience will be considered treason and punishable by death.

“Due to the declaration of war, any positive mention of Celestial Equestria, as well as the Crystal Empire and Stalliongrad, is prohibited. Citizens must destroy or turn in to the ponice all hostile symbols they have. The ideologies of Harmony and communism are outlawed from this day forward.

“Furthermore, Batponies are granted all the rights and freedoms of the Republic’s citizens. Attacking or insulting a thestral is considered an extremely serious offense. Any discrimination is forbidden.

“Instead of the canceled referendum, on November 17 there will be held elections with a progressive voting system. All the details are in the text of the decree.” Octavia hoofed at one of the papers. “There are also a few other decrees, such as the nationalization of the spaceport being built near Hoofington and things like that. Try to make sure that all these documents are published without distortion. Otherwise…”

She slowly pulled her cello bow from under her cloak, and in a flash, she was behind the editor-in-chief’s back, causing Featherweight to blink in surprise.

“The Republic doesn’t like to be spoken of in an inappropriate tone,” Octavia muttered and ran a tense hair along the neck of the stallion, who let out a startled yelp.

A red streak was left on the unicorn’s skin, oozing drops of blood.

Leaning down to his ear, the earth pony added in a whisper – Featherweight could barely make out the words, “Lest it be like your last issue.”

With a commanding shake of her hoof, one of her companions pulled a folded newspaper from under his jacket.

Leaving the editor-in-chief to come to his senses, Octavia walked over and unfolded the publication, then read aloud with expression.

“…By calling on the people of Manehattan and the neighboring provinces to side with her against Celestia, Luna effectively declared the beginning of a civil war not seen in Equestria for over a thousand years. On the one hoof, it was hard to avoid in light of recent events, but on the other hoof, such drastic decisions have led to chaos and social instability…”

Octavia crumpled the paper and threw it away. Then she leaned down right up to the unicorn’s nose and slapped her hooves on the table.

“From now on, you must write as you’re told! It’s articles like this that cause instability and chaos and turn the ponies against the new, righteous system! And you cannot fail to see that! You have a responsibility to form opinions that will influence society!”

She drew back and lifted her chin, looking down at the editor. He was squirming in his chair and seemed willing to do anything to keep away from her.

“Think about that when you’re doing the next issue. Please.” Octavia looked at the mess on the table and wrinkled her nose. “And clean this place up. It’s disgusting to look at.”

Her group headed for the office exit. Featherweight dashed from the window back into the hall, grabbed a rag, and began scrubbing away the stubborn ink stains again.

The reporters were already scribbling in their notebooks, but they stopped and eyed Octavia warily as she and her companions passed. The cellist stopped for a moment and turned to the mares. They drew frightened smiles onto their faces.

Without a word, Octavia turned and walked out of the newsroom. Her companions followed her out of the building. The tall pony who had kicked in the doors was the last to leave, carefully closing the door behind him.

The little pegasus sighed, dropped the rag, and floated to a chair with a flap of his small wings. He pulled out a blank sheet of paper, took a pen between his teeth, and began to write in uneven, jumbled script.

Featherweight had to warn his friends in Ponyville.

November 9

Since its founding, Ponyville had been considered a small town, despite being less than fifty miles from Canterlot. The settlement wasn’t taken seriously enough by the mostly earth ponies who lived there, and for a long time it was almost cut off from the bustling social life of Equestria.

But all that changed when Twilight Sparkle first came to Ponyville. The town grew and got stronger, and thanks to Crystal Castle and the Friendship School, it became a new, albeit not the largest, center of power in the country. There, under the influence of the magic of friendship, the Harmonical ideology has been perfected over the past few years.

And so far, the news “from the mainland” had been delayed. Not everyone in Ponyville had a radio, and news on paper had yet to be delivered.

But sooner or later, they would arrive.

“What the hay?!” Applejack exclaimed, hoofing the newspaper that Sweetie Belle was floating in front of her. “Did Luna fall out of the apple tree?”

“I don’t really know what’s going on,” the filly with the curly lilac-pink mane sighed. “But… Rarity is in Manehattan right now! I don’t want anything to happen to her…”

She sobbed, and Applejack pulled her leg over to her and hugged her tightly.

“Don’t worry, sugarcube; I’m sure she’ll come back to us. Or we’ll go there and rescue her.”

“And Babs Seed too?” Apple Bloom looked up at her sister, standing beside Scootaloo.

“O’ course! She’s part of the Apple family, too! And we…”

Applejack paused as Rainbow Dash flew toward them, leaving a rainbow trail behind herself, and collapsed on her hooves, trying to catch her breath.

“This is… disaster…!”

“Hush, hush, sugarcube,” the orange earth pony cut her off, a little scared. “Y’mean all the crap that’s goin’ on in Manehattan…?”

“No!” Rainbow shouted, and after catching her breath, blurted out, “Soarin’s been arrested!”

“What? Wait, he’s your…”

“Yes, buck, yes! He was on vacation in Fillydelphia, and he got caught ‘cause he’s a Wonderbolt!”

“Wait, how did you know that?”

“Spitfire told me, and she was told by the pegasi who just escaped from there!” Rainbow stomped angrily. “Shit, why does it have to be like this and not the other way around?! At the worst possible time…!”

“Watch your language, Rainbow,” Applejack frowned. “Not before the foals…”

“Hey, we’re not little kids anymore!” Scootaloo exclaimed. “We already have our cutie marks!”

“I see,” the earth pony’s voice rang metallic. “But now… if there’s really a war, you’ll have to be taken away from here. And that’s out of the question,” she cut off the objections. “We don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“But… what if something happens to you?” Sweetie asked.

“We won’t let that happen,” Rainbow replied, and ruffled Scootaloo’s purple mane. “’Cause we’re the coolest team of heroes in Equestria!”

“If it really comes down to a big gunfight, bein’ cool won’t help us at all,” Applejack argued. “Someone’ll have to make armor so we can protect ourselves…”

“Then we need cooler weapons so we can attack the enemy first…!”

“Are you seriously goin’ to kill other ponies?!”

Rainbow froze for a second with her mouth open, then charged back.

“Hey, I didn’t say that! I meant…”

“And I think that’s exactly whatcha…”

The two friends continued to argue, ignoring everything going on around them.

At that moment, Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy walked up to them. The pink earth pony looked stunned by the news – her round eyes were about to pop out of their sockets, but her mane was still sticking out like cotton candy instead of a pink waterfall. The yellow pegasus, on the other hoof, was rather dazed, and her legs nearly tangled as she approached her friends. She even seemed to have forgotten about her wings.

“Look what I found today!” Pinkie exclaimed, and literally out of nowhere she pulled out a piece of paper that floated to the ground. “It was taped to the door of Sugarcube Corner! Can you imagine…?”

“Well, well…”

Distracted from fighting Rainbow, Applejack adjusted her hat and pulled the piece of paper toward her. The rainbow-haired pegasus glanced over her shoulder and began to read as well.

The paper was scrawled in uneven mouth writing.

Joyn the squad to fight on Louna’s side! Down with Canterlott teranny!
Death to Celestia! Louna the Best Prinsess!

What stood out was that one sentence was spelled correctly.

“Bucking crap!” Applejack blurted out. “What the hay is this piece of dung?”

“I think I saw Pipsqueak this morning,” Sweetie Belle thought. “He was just walking around town and posting something.”

“What a lousy asshole! When I find him, I’ll smack his butt personally…!”

“If only Discord were here now…” Fluttershy sighed.

“That’s right,” Rainbow nodded. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have let this happen!”

Suddenly, a pink flash of magic flickered near the group of mares, causing them to look away from their conversation.

“Twi!” Applejack turned to the lavender pony and pretended to wipe the sweat from her forehead. “Whew! Maybe you can at least help us figure out what’s goin’ on here! Y’know already…?” She pointed her hoof at the newspaper.

“Unfortunately, I do,” Twilight Sparkle replied dryly. “I was in Canterlot at the time. I’m afraid we’ll have to go up against Nightmare Moon again. But she has a whole army now.”

The Princess of Friendship looked around.

“So, where’s Rarity?”

The mares looked sad, and Sweetie Belle seemed to be holding back tears.

“Right,” Twilight lowered her head, but looked back at her friends. “Princess Celestia wants to meet with us. With anyone who can help in the war. I teleported to you directly from Ponyville Station. The Canterlot Royal Express is waiting for us.”

“A… war?!” Fluttershy was horrified and pressed her hooves to her face. “You mean… it’s… serious?”

“Much more serious than you think. Equestria is facing something truly terrifying. Not even the Elements of Harmony can help us.”

“Wait, are we just gonna leave our marshmallow there?” AJ waved her leg, probably in the direction of Manehattan. “How long can she last without us…?”

Twilight went over to her and put a hoof on her shoulder.

“I’m sure we will come up with something. But… if you remember, Rarity is very strong. Just think of her adventure with the diamond dogs… Believe me, she can get through anything. And maybe she’ll try to get out on her own.”

“You’re right, sugarcube. We’re all just a little on edge right now.”

“I understand,” Twilight nodded and turned. “Let’s go. Time is of the essence. We should be in Canterlot by tonight.”

The five friends left, leaving the three Cutie Mark Crusaders on the half-empty street.

“Should we go too?” Apple Bloom suggested. “Let’s sit in our tree house and think about what to do with all this, okay?”

“Wait,” said Sweetie Belle, pointing to Pipsqueak’s note. “It also says…”

Indeed, a breeze blew the paper over, revealing the writing on the back.

“Meetting to night at the CMCs house,” Scootaloo squinted, reading the small, jagged letters, and got indignant, “Hey, what’s that Pipsqueak doing?! This is our house, not his! We should go over there and teach him a lesson, and then make sure nopony comes to our house…!”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Sweetie said. “What if we hide and watch them? Then we can find out what Pipsqueak is planning.”

“I like that,” Apple Bloom replied, and looked at the little pegasus, “Come on, Scoots! We have to find out what he’s up to!”

“All right,” Scootaloo said, as if reluctantly, but she pulled her orange hoof forward anyway.

The other two, yellow and white, tapped on it from two sides.

“Cutie Mark Crusaders, let’s go!”

Evening was gathering over Ponyville, filling the sky with the dark purple syrup that was always the color of the sky here. Silence had fallen over these peaceful places in the heart of Equestria – but now there was something ominous in the stillness.

An expectation of terrible future disturbances.

But the three young fillies sitting in the bushes in the woods not far from town, gazing out from their hiding place at the cozy little treehouse, didn’t care about all the adult fears and worries. They were much more interested in what was going on at their headquarters.

“That’s it, nopony more coming!” Scootaloo whispered loudly. “Let’s see what’s in there!”

“Let’s wait just one more minute,” Sweetie said. “What if somepony’s late? Pipsqueak didn’t say any specific time…”

“But what if they’re already on the meetin’?” Apple Bloom protested. “We’d miss everything!”

“Alright, let’s go,” said the little unicorn, and the three fillies cautiously peeked out from behind the bush.

When they saw that nopony was around, they immediately climbed up the steps and went to the window in the side wall.

The room was lit by a dozen lanterns that the foals had brought with them when they gathered. In addition, a kerosene lamp on a small stand shone with a steady amber glow. From the outside, this strange mix of technologies looked rather unusual.

However, the attention of the CMCs was drawn to something completely different.

To the cheers of the crowd, Pipsqueak – a brown-haired colt with a red pirate bandana and a patch over one eye – came to the podium. The fillies noticed, however, that the bandana was now a purple shade, and the patch bore Princess Luna’s cutie mark instead of skull and crossbones.

“What does all this mean?” Scoots whispered indignantly.

“Quiet,” Apple Bloom snapped at her. “It’s about to start!”

Coughing dramatically, Pipsqueak spoke.

“As president of the school, I’ve decided to call together everypony who cares about what’s going on in Equestria. Celestia has done a very bad thing to Luna, even though she did nothing, and to those ponies who supported Luna!” He slammed his white hoof down on the podium, causing the lamp to shake and sway. “We can’t just watch this and do nothing!”

“Yes! That’s right…!” shouted the crowd.

“We gotta… help Luna!” Pipsqueak proclaimed after a pause.

Many stamped their hooves in support.

“Help?” Scootaloo frowned. “How, I wonder, he’s gonna do that?”

“I told you not everypony was here yet!” Sweetie Belle spoke up.

All three turned to see Cosy Glow approaching the house.

The little pegasus raised an eyebrow, surprised to see the Crusaders standing at the window.

Apple Bloom pressed a hoof to her lips, please don’t give us away.

Cosy Glow nodded with a smile, then went up the stairs and into the house.

The three fillies were back at the window, watching the meeting.

A white, dark-haired pegasus came out of the crowd of foals and asked, “But the adults say it was Luna who did some bad things and even turned into Nightmare Moon again. Why are you so sure that we should help her?”

“’Cause she’s the best princess, Rumble!” Pipsqueak roared, suddenly harsh. “Luna comes into our dreams and saves us from nightmares! She raises the moon and gives us advice to keep us from being afraid! And all you get from Celestia is sunshine and new taxes, that’s what my dad says!”

“Yeah, Princess Luna helped me once by telling me in a dream that everyone has fears and that Rainbow Dash would help me deal with them…” Scootaloo muttered, but stopped talking when Apple Bloom poked her in the side.

Meanwhile, Pipsqueak continued.

“It’s time for Celestia to leave the throne and go to the moon herself! Only her sister is worthy to rule Equestria! Death to Celestia! Praise the Moon!”

And he clasped his right front hoof to his chest and threw it upward.

Several other foals repeated his gesture.

Rumble was still in place.

“But you’re blaming Celestia – this is wrong! Why’s she the only one at fault? And she’s a princess, too. She meant well, she just couldn’t do it this time…”

“She must pay!” Pipsqueak stood his ground. “She ordered her guards to shoot the batponies! And we don’t need anyone supporting Celestia! They weren’t invited here!”

“Then we should think about who’ll be the new president of the school!” Rumble said and headed for the door.

Once outside, he spread his little wings and flew away, not even looking at the lurking Crusaders.

“Anypony else wants to go?” Pipsqueak asked. The answer was silence. “Then let’s get on with it. Luna has declared war on Celestia, and I think it’s right! We must fight those who wants to keep the tyranny of Canterlot! And so,” he banged on the podium again, “I propose that we form a warband to fight on Luna’s side! Tomorrow at dawn, I want all of you to meet me at the bridge – with full backpacks! We’ll cross the river and go to Manehattan, and then we’ll join Luna’s army along the way! Well, who is with me?”

The ponies cheerfully yelled in support of his words.

Cosy Glow caught the stunned looks of the three fillies in the window – and with a wicked grin, she called out, “And the Crusaders are listening in!”

Everypony immediately turned to the window, but nopony was there.

The three friends were already running through the forest toward Ponyville.

Now they had something to tell their elders.

November 10

The throne room of Canterlot Palace was truly a work of art. The stone walls looked gray-blue in the dim light of the morning sky through the stained glass windows, and the marble floor shone as if it had just been scrubbed by an army of maids. But if the rumors about where guilty guards went to be demoted were to be believed, that might have been true. Carefully arranged flowers hung from the wall caddies between the windows, giving off a faintly pleasant scent.

The throne itself, a high-backed seat upholstered in red velvet, with a smaller one to the left, was still empty. Divine sisters didn’t have to be on time, and Celestia followed that principle: if you want to subdue someone, make them wait.

Along the sides of the red carpet that ran from the high, patterned doors all the way to the throne, ponies crowded in. They had all been summoned to decide how Equestria should proceed in the new, changed circumstances. In the front rows, of course, were the five bearers of the Elements of Harmony, who, in their youthful determination to save everything around them, had imperceptibly overshadowed all Canterlot’s nobility. As a result, some of the glances they received were filled with irritation and jealousy. Understandably, the fate of the Sixth Element was not inquired about.

Finally, the clanking of weapons and armor came from the corridor: the guards outside were saluting, at the same time warning those inside of the royal person’s arrival.

The guards inside waited a few moments, then synchronously opened the doors with telekinesis, and one cleared his throat and announced, “Her Highness Princess Celestia!”

Everyone bowed respectfully as the white alicorn, accompanied by her “shadow” Raven, entered the hall, her gilded hoof slippers clattering. The ruler looked sad and haggard, as if she hadn’t slept much in recent days, but her mane was neat and shiny as ever, and her lilac eyes looked forward with determination and dignity.

Celestia walked up the steps and sat gracefully on the throne, then looked around at everyone, and a soft but sad smile appeared on her face.

“Stand up, my dear ponies,” she said. “Now, as you know, Equestria is going through a difficult time. I would even say the most difficult in the last thousand years. And I have gathered you here today to assign each of you a role that I hope will prove suitable. After all, we all have a stake in making sure that the land can endure.”

Raven hoofed the Princess a scroll, which immediately hung in the yellow glow of magic.

“So, let’s start with you, the keepers of Friendship,” Celestia said, looking at Twilight and her friends. “Each of you has a special talent that will help you in your new position.

“Twilight,” she turned to the Princess of Friendship. “I was impressed by your determination to learn magic when you were just starting out. And now I ask – not command, but ask – that your magic once again be used to defend Equestria. We need new, powerful spells, both for defense,” the alicorn paused, “and for offense. And in a form that can be used by non-unicorns as well.”

“Is there really no other way?” The lavender pony looked up at the ruler. “Magic is not only spells, but also the power that unites us all. You remember how many times it was the power of friendship that saved Equestria! And....” Twilight looked down. “I can’t leave my School…”

“You have the right to stay in Ponyville. I will personally see to it that you get all the help you need. But about the School…” Celestia sighed. “I’m afraid we will have to suspend classes for the duration of the war.”

“No.”

Twilight gritted her teeth and spread her wings belligerently, and the other Elements stood side by side with her.

The white alicorn raised an eyebrow. At that moment, it seemed like she was seeing her pupil for the first time.

“The School of Friendship will work,” Twilight said, pressing each word. Astonished whispers rippled through the room. “Because if it doesn’t, we can’t win. We must have something of value to share with others. And that’s what the school will do as long as it can.”

“I object!” stomped the hoof of an old unicorn in a dark red mantle. “This is too dangerous! We cannot expose the students to such a risk!”

“Let me remind you, Chancellor Neighsay, that Friendship Schools are not under the authority of the E.E.A.!” Twilight Sparkle replied defiantly. “However, I realize what a responsibility that is, and –”

“And I think – no, you don’t!”

“Quiet, ponies,” Princess Celestia said softly, and the bickering stopped. “I can see that you both have good intentions. But it’s getting a little dangerous in Ponyville right now. Just fifty miles to the east, Luna’s followers are already gathering. We may have to evacuate the schools to the west to safer areas. Not just Twilight’s school, but the Canterlot School for Gifted Unicorns as well. That will be up to you, Chancellor,” she turned to the stallion. “Do you have any suitable options?”

“I have already thought about it, Your Highness,” Neighsay tilted his head. “I can suggest Littlehorn, a small village in Little Pony Valley, not far from Ponydale. It has everything we need: nature to play in, friendly locals, and a few old homesteads to stay in.”

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Celestia nodded. “Proceed immediately.”

The unicorn bowed silently and walked down the carpet path through the crowd and out of the hall.

“All right, Princess,” Twilight said. “But promise me that the School of Friendship will return to Ponyville as soon as possible!”

“I promise,” Celestia replied, then shifted her gaze to another pony. “Applejack. I know you’re doing a great job on the farm, but right now I need you to be my coordinator in another area.”

“Your… what? And… you’re suggestin’ I leave my farm?!” The earth pony frowned. “Not just the farm, but my family too, huh?!”

“No,” the Princess covered her eyes. “I just want you to be my special representative to the Technology Council, which develops weapons for the army. You are to organize their work in general and report to me on the results from time to time. Dr. Hooves,” she looked at the brown stallion in the green tie, and he bowed with a smile, “our chief designer, will assist you in everything. By the way, Doctor, how is your family?”

“Thank you, Your Highness, they are fine,” he replied. “I was about to take Ditzy and Dinky to a safe place, but they want to stay. Dinky is getting ready to enter Princess Twilight’s School, and if it moves, I think I can convince them.”

“Then you are welcome to Littlehorn. I’m sure they will love it there.”

Doctor bowed his head again, smiling.

“Pinkie,” Celestia said to the pink pony of the Mane Six. “I suggest you join the secret service that is being set up in Canterlot. Your ‘Pinkie Sense’ could be a great asset to us in detecting and thwarting any insidious plots against Equestria.”

“I’d love to, Princess, but…” Pinkie put her hoof to her mouth and turned. “Who’s going to organize the parties, so the ponies don’t get discouraged? And how will Mr. and Mrs. Cake manage without me…?”

“I think your friend Cheese Sandwich would be happy to take over your duties. However,” the alicorn said seriously, “war is no time for parties. And don’t worry about your familiars; we will find ways to support them in the hard times ahead.”

“Then I don’t mind!” Pinkie cheered and even jumped up and down. “You’ll see, Princess, I’ll be the most mega-vigilant, ultra-secretive, super-smart secret agent in Equestria!”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Celestia laughed. “I’ll tell you more: the agency will be called the Secret Military Intelligence League of Equestria – S.M.I.L.E. for short.”

The pink pony gasped in excitement.

“This is… so… cool!”

Joyfully, she jumped again.

Celestia closed her eyes indulgently and turned to the blue pegasus, who was standing there as usual, looking a bit perplexed.

“Rainbow. I wish I could offer you a new and important mission… But you seem to be doing well at yours. And I’m so glad you’ve been able to reach your goal and find your calling.”

“I… that’s… thank you, Your…” Dash was clearly confused.

“Captain Spitfire.” While Rainbow recovered, the Princess unmistakably spotted the head of the Wonderbolts in the crowd. “A major confrontation is coming, not only on the ground, but in the air as well. The country is already building planes, but they still won’t replace Pegasi. Increase enrollment at the Academy; cut back on weather teams if you have to. We need every pegasus who can stand up for Equestria.”

“Yes, Your Highness! Will do!” saluted a yellow-haired pegasus mare in a blue tunic and dark glasses.

“One more thing. In a war, a special unit may be needed for special missions. In that case, it must be formally part of the Wonderbolts, but at the same time subordinate to me personally. And you, Rainbow,” the Princess glanced at the Element of Loyalty, “I would like to see you at the head of this special team.”

“What? Me?” Dash was still stunned, but her confusion was soon replaced by excitement. “That’s… awesome! I promise I won’t let you down!”

“Fluttershy,” Celestia looked at the remaining one of the friends. “Your kindness and responsiveness have found a place in the hearts of many ponies. And it is important to me that you continue to bring light to this world when darkness rises again. I am offering you participation in the development of healing spells and medicines that will allow us to lose fewer ponies in the coming conflict. Mistress Meadowbrook – sorry, she’s not here right now – and some magicians will help you. Don’t worry,” the Princess added, anticipating the inevitable question, “there will be someone to look after your animals.”

“Well… then I… agree…” the yellow pegasus whispered, shrinking under the alicorn’s kind gaze.

“What about Rarity, Princess?!” Applejack raised her voice. “Is she just gonna stay in Manehattan?! And we ain’t gonna do anything to save her?!”

Celestia straightened and squinted at the orange earth pony.

“Applejack.” The Princess’ voice was icy and sharp as steel. “We are in no position to risk saving one pony. When you go outside, look around. The lives of millions of ponies are at stake right now – many times more than live in your hometown of Ponyville. Most of all, we must keep them safe. We can only hope that Rarity will be strong enough to stay alive, or even get closer to us. But there is not much more we can do at this point. I’m very, very sorry about your friend – but right now,” the alicorn shook her head, “we are not going to save her.”

“But…” Rainbow tried to object, but Celestia cut her off.

“I’m not saying we should forget her! No, not at all. We will return to the question of saving Rarity later, after we have removed the threat from Canterlot… and Ponyville. Do you understand me?” The princess asked insistently.

All five of them grimaced but looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

“Good,” Celestia sighed, glancing at the golden-haired unicorn in his ornate white uniform twitching at her side. “Prince Blueblood, I am entrusting you, as my field marshal, with the responsibility of assembling and training a battle-ready army as quickly as possible. Our Self-Defense Forces are not enough to succeed alone. Get help from the media to encourage the ponies to defend their land. And we should already be planning how to counter the first attack.”

“It will be done, Princess,” Blueblood muttered, adjusting his ornate white cap with magic.

“Let me remind you that war crimes are now punishable in Equestria. Therefore,” the Princess’ tone became extremely harsh again, “no shooting civilians like in Severyana. No plans for bombing or anything else I can’t even find a name for. There are no legal methods of warfare, so we will not overuse violence to solve the problem. Is that clear?”

“Quite clear, Your Highness,” the unicorn replied glumly.

He didn’t even seem to like the fact that he had been dunked headfirst right into his great mistake of ten years ago.

The crowd in the hall began to thin as the ponies left one by one after receiving their tasks. Only the Elements of Harmony and the sullen-looking Prince remained in place, waiting for the most important, meaningful words to be said.

Celestia continued to assign roles. Thus, Hoity Toity and Photo Finish were in charge of designing new military uniforms – winter and summer versions. Rockhoof, the new head of Equestria’s construction department, was to prepare a system of trenches and fortifications near Canterlot. Fancy Pants – to go visit the Crystal Empire. Furniture magnate Davenport – to provide the army with bunks, tents, and office supplies. Filthy Rich, Governor of the Central Bank, to take care of the financial side of things. Inspector Ms. Harshwinny – to check the condition of the war factories. And so on.

Eventually, the throne room was almost empty. Even Blueblood said something about his urgent business and left the meeting. Raven also left, taking a stack of new decrees. In the end, not counting the guards and the Princess herself, only five young ponies remained in the huge room.

Celestia exhaled heavily and leaned back in her luxurious seat. Then she looked at those still standing in front of her and said, “Don’t fail me, my little ponies. The fate of all Equestria rests on our shoulders now.”

“We’ll do it, Princess,” Twilight replied with unexpected maturity in her voice. “Together, with our combined efforts, we will succeed. And we’ll help bring your sister back to her senses when we get to Manehattan.”

“Princess!” came a shout from the doorway.

The white alicorn lifted her head.

The guards, crossed ceremonial spears, were keeping a pair of stylishly dressed stallions in straw hats from entering the hall. These two looked like brothers; one of them, unlike the other, had a moustache.

Although… they were brothers indeed.

“Hey, what are they doin’ here?” Applejack exclaimed, pointing her hoof at them.

“Well, we will find out. Let them in,” Celestia ordered.

The spears went straight up at once.

As the two unicorns walked up the carpet path to the throne and bowed, the Princess was the first to start the conversation.

“Flim and Flam. Adventurers who had swindled half of Equestria in their lifetimes. Let me ask you, how many suspended sentences have you received for your fraud…? Two? Three? And what are you going to do now? It’s got to be something worthwhile, or the guards will have you thrown out of here in no time. So why are you here?”

“Your Highness,” began Flam, the one with the moustache, taking off his hat. “We’re sorry for all our sins against other ponies. And we wish to atone for our past actions by serving for the good of Equestria in this difficult time.”

Celestia’s eyebrow began to rise.

“The more ponies that fight on your side, the better,” Flim said. “But will one army be enough? What if the enemy could muster a larger force?”

“And at that moment,” Flim continued, “here we come.”

“We’re proud to present…”

“…Flim and Flam’s Private Military Company ‘Steel Horseshoes’!” they finished together.

Celestia put her hoof to her mouth and began to giggle. Then, unable to hold it in, she laughed out loud.

The brothers looked at each other. They must have expected something different.

When she had laughed enough, the princess returned her serious expression and took a new look at the uninvited requesters.

“It’s simple: you pay, we recruit ponies and provide them with everything they need, they fight,” Flam started to explain, but with less aplomb. “We take all the risks. All we need from you is support.”

“Financial support, for starters,” Flam said. “We’ve calculated that a hundred thousand bits should be enough to start preparations.”

“So, you are serious about this?” Celestia asked. “And this isn’t just another attempt to make a profit, this time on the state treasury during the war?”

“How could you think that of us?!” Flim pretended to gasp.

The alicorn sighed and shook her head, not negatively, but rather in surprise.

“Well, let’s see how pure your intentions are.”

She stomped her hoof a few times. Raven peeked through the hall door.

“Call Filthy Rich again,” Celestia said. “Tell him that there is another matter that needs his attention.”

Rarity walked shakily into the conference room of Tenpony Tower. The unicorn mare felt uncomfortable: not only had she been brought in under escort, but she was wearing a magic blocker on her horn! And that was after two days under arrest in the devastated Crystal Empire consulate. It was hard to believe it was all happening.

Entering the room, Rarity gasped at the new sight of Luna standing before her. She would have fainted, but for the absence of her favorite couch, the unicorn stood on her hooves, only slightly staggered from the shock, and looked at Luna with round eyes.

“Oh…” she muttered. “I had no idea that everything the ponies said was true…”

“Hello, child,” Luna gave her the sinister smile of Nightmare Moon. “So, we meet again.”

“P-Princess L…”

“Horsecoacher Luna,” the alicorn corrected her with a frown. “Address me properly.”

“What kind of horrible title is that?” Rarity asked, pointing a hoof at Luna. “I see you’ve decided to change everything around here, haven’t you?”

“My new title emphasizes that I control the lives of every pony in this piece of former Equestria. All of them, without exception.” Nightmare Moon leaned forward and stared into her eyes. “And yours as well.”

“But… Equestria has always been the same, ever since it was created,” the unicorn said quietly. “You can’t just go and…”

“That’s enough,” Luna cut her off. “I ordered to find you not to talk about geoponitics.” The alicorn walked over to the desk and touched a stack of papers with her hoof. “I have an assignment for you. A special assignment.”

“W-what is it? And… how can I help you? I’m just a designer…”

“That’s it!” Luna went over to Rarity and looked down at her. “Do you have any idea what a war is? That an army is gathering under my command to march to the walls of Canterlot. That’s many, many ponies – and they all need uniforms. Military uniforms. Lots of military uniforms. And considering it’s winter, a winter edition too.”

Luna levitated the folded sheets, unwrapping them for the unicorn. Rarity gasped again – but this time in amazement. On the sheets were drawn… sketches of clothes. Not very skillfully, of course, and some of them were out of proportion, but Rarity suddenly realized that she could make something out of these sketches. With a little refinement, of course.

“I need several kinds of uniforms, for different troops,” Luna continued. “Simple and uncluttered, in subtle colors, for the infantry. Blue and solid for the navy. Almost the same, but grayer, for aviation. Scary purple flight suits – for the Shadowbolts. And finally…”

She licked her lips as she pointed to one of the sketches.

“…my pride. Black and intimidating, stylish and imposing, terrifying and magically attractive… The uniform. Of the Lunar. Division.”

The alicorn telekinetically tossed the sheets onto the table.

“If you do all this for me, you will not need anything. I will let you join my team – and even give you a position where you can prove yourself. Let’s say,” she pretended to think, “the post of Minister of Information and Propaganda. I’m sorry, but the post of Minister of Culture is already taken.”

“And… by whom?”

“You know her,” Luna smiled. “Octavia Melody. One of my most loyal associates… since the last time.”

“Octavia?!” Rarity stared. “She… really… has become your ally?”

“Oh, and believe me, she is not the only one. Vinyl Scratch, Sapphire Shores, Trenderhoof, Coco Pommel – need I go on?” The alicorn’s grin widened. “Many, many ponies have chosen to join me. Because they realized I was the kind of leader Manehattan’s lands needed.”

“What? And… Trenderhoof too…?”

“You two have some kind of connection? Interesting. So, you will be able to see each other. Perhaps he might even work under your watch.”

“The Ministry of Information?” Rarity wrinkled her nose. “Holy crystals, how ugly. Maybe we should rename it? How about… the Ministry of Image?”

“No,” Nightmare Moon said, obviously amused, and bared her fangs. “There is no need to make references when there are so many of them already.”

“Uh… I’m sorry, what?”

“Never mind. So, what do you think about my offer?”

“And… if I refuse?” The unicorn pointed to the sketches. “What if I don’t want to work for you?”

“Oh, you are brave, aren’t you?” Luna laughed. “You know you are completely in my power and yet you want to be impertinent. Very interesting.”

“Listen… Madam Horsecoacher…” Rarity got a belligerent look. “In case you forgot, I know Princess Celestia personally! I have friends, and they –”

“…can do absolutely nothing about it. You wouldn’t want to be a doormat under my hooves, would you? Or be roasted on a fire like a giant piece of marshmallow? No?” Luna squinted at the horrified unicorn. “Good. Then you will accept my offer. And if you do not, I will make you beg to be allowed to. Do you understand, little pony?”

Rarity stood stiffly, her hoof gracefully covering her mouth, and stared at the alicorn.

“I will give you some time to think. Let’s say a day. We cannot wait any longer: the ponies are freezing – and they can hardly recognize their own. Think carefully, child. You will not get a second chance. Take her away,” Luna said, magically pressing a button on the intercom at the side of the entrance.

“Horsecoacher, there’s a messenger with urgent news,” the speaker said.

“And what else is there… Let him in.”

The door swung open, and a panting pegasus in a rumpled and tattered Equestrian Navy uniform burst into the conference room.

“Mistress… Horsecoacher… A trouble…” he gasped, trying to catch his breath, apparently after a long and dangerous flight.

“What. Happened?” Luna said coldly.

“Your fleet… Admiral Dust Hoover announced that he won’t obey the Republic and took three quarters of the ships from Baltimare! The rest tried to stop them by opening fire but failed! The Admiral’s ships are out to sea, sailing around Equus! What should we do?”

“How dare he?!” The alicorn jumped up. “Fucking traitor…! Fly to headquarters,” she said to the shrinking pegasus. “Tell them to send orders to all our ports to keep their ships out! If they come to shore – fire the main caliber! Let them die on the open sea without resupply! Do it!”

“Yes, ma’am!” The pegasus was out of the door in a flash.

Luna turned back to Rarity and said, “There are no legal methods of warfare, child. So it doesn't matter how far we can go. Because the winners –” she grinned wickedly – “are not judged. And we will win… as soon as we get rid of the traitors. And you don’t want to be one of them, do you?”

Rarity remained silent, squeezing her eyes shut. Tears were streaming down her smooth, white cheeks.

November 12

(Here and below are extracts from articles published in the Equestria Nightly.)

Stalliongrad Moves South

The forces of the Stalliongrad Army, which broke away from Equestria a decade ago, have made a barbaric raid southward into the northern provinces of the newly formed Lunar Republic. The border troops that had sided with the Immortal Horsecoacher were defeated and forced to retreat. At the moment, Trotsylvania, Cumulus, and Mythica are in the “gray zone,” under the joint control of the NLR and Stalliongrad. The Quiet Spaces and Albion have been defended, saving a port in the northeast of the Republic, though ships were ready for evacuation to Fillydelphia.

There has been no comment from Manehattan, but General Secretary Altidiya stated that their sneaky and sudden raid was “a natural consequence of the ponitics of the alicorns of Equestria.” However, she also stated that she had no desire for escalation and was willing to negotiate self-determination for the lands they had taken. However, this is a source of tension that could escalate into a direct declaration of war by Luna against Severyana. We will keep an eye on this development.

*

November 17

Southern War

Lunar control over the southeastern part of Equus has been shaken. To express their strong dissatisfaction with the events in Manehattan, the ponies launched a true parade of sovereignty by seceding from the New Lunar Republic.

In Baltimare, a workers’ uprising with syndicalist slogans took place, resulting in the capture and expulsion of a recently arrived Thestral garrison. The head of the local union, Golden Delicious, took responsibility for the riot.

In the southeastern part of the continent, in the Forbidden Jungle, a group of mercenaries led by the notorious “black archaeologist” Dr. Caballeron seized control of the ruins of the ancient city of Tenochtitlan and surrounding lands and declared the creation of a new independent state of Aztlan with the support of the local population.

In opposition, an entity calling itself Celestial State has formed in the far south. Its leader is a pony who looks a lot like the heroine of the popular Daring Doo book series. Nothing is known about her true identity.

The rest of the southern forests are ruled by followers of the Immortal Horsecoacher. Baltimare, Celestials, and Aztlan managed to push back her regiments in the early days, but they were soon reorganized under the command of the thestral mare Stellar Whirl, who has continued the war against those who challenge the Lunar Republic’s claim to the region.

With each passing day, the instability grows. It is likely that there will soon be other regions that have decided to declare their independence.

*

November 23

Equestria Breaks Apart

As expected, the “parade of sovereignty” did not end in the southeastern lands. Instead, it spread to the western lands under the illegitimate control of Celestia, who seems to be having a hard time adjusting to her new role as Equestria’s dictator.

On Frimaire 13th (November 20th by the old calendar), the Confederation of Southern States was formed, uniting the southwestern provinces. Appleloosa became the capital of the territory; the rebels, led by a certain Braeburn and supported by the local sheriff, took over. It is not known how the buffalo reacted.

On Frimaire 15th, the Las Pegasus authorities announced their secession. The reason given was the unwillingness to take part in a civil war. In response, the ponies staged massive protests demanding their return as part of Equestria.

Finally, today, inspired by the example of Stalliongrad, the citizens of Vanhoover have proclaimed the Vanhoover Commune and their neutrality in the current conflict. They are led by Admiral Dust Hoover, who is moving along the southern coast and happens to be a native of the northwest. He now has about half of the former NLR fleet under his command. The remaining ships are presumably docked at the Spa Islands in the South Sea, under Canterlot’s rule.

No other lands ready to become independent have yet been seen. It can be said that the disintegration of Equestria as a single state has finally come to an end.

[1] The Equestria Education Association, the leading authority on all school-related matters. Managed by Chancellor Neighsay.

[2] «…but those who hide in darkness see the different kind of light…» (Slyphstorm – Soldiers of the Night).

Chapter Three. The Battle of Canterlot

January – February 1008

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The spoon clinked on the edge of the tray.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knight b1…” Consited exhaled nervously.

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

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

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

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

Then his eyes widened in horror.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then they finished their lunch without saying a word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for his friends.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or birds, ready to sing their death song.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And how about this…?” Dropper muttered.

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

He’s gonna get killed!

But the pegasus seemed to know what he was doing.

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

“Yes! Take that!”

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

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

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

“All in position!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there were still many of the attackers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a moron. But damn, how it hurts…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But no one was listening to this plea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But… that’s only my blood…

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

No. It’s not. Not anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look!” someone shouted.

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

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

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

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

He was going to crash through the castle.

The gray pony’s heart tightened.

If the plan succeeded and Celestia died…

His breath caught in his throat at the horrible thought.

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

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

I wonder if it’ll make it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would Canterlot be able to stand at all?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The shield withstood.

Equestria kept fighting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the battle resumed.

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

The guns rumbled habitually, firing shell after shell.

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

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

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

It was pure, absolute madness.

And then…

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

And it was over.

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

Only snow remained. And silence. And corpses.

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

Greg managed to remain outwardly nonchalant.

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

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

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

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

“Co-ons…”

Greg touched him gently with his hoof.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then… everything will be fine again.

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

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

The war had been going on for nearly three months.

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

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

Greg poked his nose out from under his collar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And do you have such a purpose?”

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

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

And suddenly he shouted in a hoarse, cracking voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Greg looked after him.

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

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

Another day had passed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

All in all, the usual hustle and bustle…

While waiting for the attack.

Regardless of whether defending or fighting back.

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

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

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

Greg overheard a fragment of his fiery speech.

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

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

“Praise the Moon…!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dropper’s machine gun was still firing.

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

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

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

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

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

Tanks?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, rookie! Who else?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meanwhile, the singer started another verse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Greg suddenly noticed Dusty Night tense up nearby.

Oh damn, he’s gonna kill him now!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What to do? What to do, what to do…?

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

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

And the ponies of the Harmonic Army continued to sing.

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

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

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

“Stratospheres, look out!”

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

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

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

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

“Noooooo! Dropper…!”

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

And Celestia’s soldiers were getting closer.

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

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

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

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

Royal Canterlot Radio, February 2.

Attention! Canterlot speaking!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Victory will be ours!

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

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

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

Radio Nox.

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

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

Death to Celestia! Praise the Moon!

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

Chapter Four. White Path

Author's Note

The episode at the beginning was inspired by this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FmUA_Yxl0PM.
Of course, the roles are changed according to the story.

Chapter Four. White Path

February 1008

The snow fell from above in small white flakes, swirling in the rare gusts of cold wind. The blind sky seemed indifferent to events below, separated from earth by an impenetrable cloud curtain.

The heavy body was pressing down on Mellow’s back, causing his legs to buckle. The gray stallion already wanted to give up and run off in search of somepony… but he couldn’t leave his friend to die so close to the frontline.

They were moving down the street of a small town not far from Canterlot. The locals had left on Luna’s order, so the town was empty now. Maybe there were some Equermacht fighters hiding somewhere. Or the Harmonic soldiers were already looking for them.

A cannonade came from far away. Equestrian troops were advancing on the positions the enemy had left behind – and there was no telling where their counterattack would end.

Or how long it would take them to get here.

Discord, I’ve even dropped my rifle, Greg thought as he turned into a random alleyway. His breath came out noisily in clouds of steam. I just hope I don’t run into anyone on the way…

His legs were completely tired. In a narrow alley between two houses, the gray pony carefully unloaded the body of the pegasus with the shrapnel sticking out from his belly and laid him down on the snow. Then he crouched down beside his friend, leaning against the bright red brick wall.

We’re doomed, came a thought. I can hardly walk any further now. And if I stay here to rest… Dropper may die. I don’t even have any food with me, let alone healing potions. I can’t even help myself, much less others…

Greg looked at the pegasus lying there, his broken wing spread out on the snow, and gritted his teeth.

No… I have to! Otherwise, what would be all my resistance for? If I do like everyone else, how will I differ from those who raise their hooves in moonlight at every opportunity and consider those they oppose undeserving to live? And most of all, indifferent to each other?

I’ll save you, Dropper. Whatever it takes.

The stallion took a breath, rose to his hooves and, once again lifting Stratospheres’ thick body onto his back, slowly walked out of the alley.

And then stopped dead.

In front of them, a white pony in helmet and green Harmonic Army uniform stood a few paces away, pointing a rifle at them. It was as if she hadn’t expected to see them here – and now she was confused, staring at Greg with Dropper slung over his back.

Mellow froze, not daring to breathe. He was completely defenseless against her now. If he tried to run… or attack her… he would be shot. And it would end as ingloriously as it had for Consited.

Besides, the gray pony couldn’t raise a hoof against her.

The mare could kill them right now though. They both wore the Lunar Army’s uniform, probably belonged to those who had tried to reach the capital – what other reason would she have to finish them off? Or capture them: with a gun in her hooves, the white pony could do it alone.

They remained silent, looking at each other cautiously and apprehensively. The snow fell around them, and even the rumble of cannons seemed almost inaudible at that moment. Greg thought it was like the silence after another battle near Canterlot, when both sides exhausted their strength and decided to rest for the night.

No one had fired a shot that snowy evening – and just like that, the white pony didn’t fire either.

Her gaze fell on Dropper, and her blue eyes widened slightly. The mare hesitated for a few seconds – and then reached into her bag.

Could it be a grenade…? Greg thought in panic… but she pulled out a healing potion and hoofed him a small bottle.

The gray pony opened his mouth in surprise. Then closed it. Then opened it again. And closed it again. He looked into her eyes in disbelief. Then at the potion on her hoof.

Turned his head to the lying Dropper, then looked at the potion again.

Finally, he reached out his foreleg and took the bottle.

The white pony didn’t smile. She just nodded and pointed the barrel of her gun at Stratospheres, as if to say, Come on, what are you waiting for?

It took Greg a few seconds to come out of his daze. He tilted his head back hesitantly, and with his legs ducked, he carefully pulled Dropper’s body away. Then he looked up and stared at her again in amazement.

“You…” Why the hay did my voice crack at the worst possible moment! “…just let us go?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “You’re not a threat right now. Otherwise, I’d do my duty and send you where you deserve. Slowly pull the shard out of his stomach and give him the potion. You can pour some directly on the wound to make it heal faster.”

Greg stared at her for a moment, then nodded and, grasping the sharp edge with his teeth, carefully pulled the shard from Dropper’s wound.

The bloody piece of metal fell to the snow. Blood ran down the pegasus’ beige fur, but Mellow had already reached for the potion and poured the rest into his unconscious companion’s mouth, splashing some on the narrow, oozing red gash. Then he ran a hoof down Dropper’s throat, forcing him to swallow the healing liquid.

The white pony watched Greg with approval. When he was finished, and the wound on the pegasus’ belly seemed much smaller (and even the leg was no longer twisted so unnaturally), she silently turned and headed off down the street.

“Wait…” Mellow turned to follow her. “What… what’s your name?”

“Aurora. Lieutenant Aurora Dusk,” he heard from the distance.

Aurora… Thank you, Greg thought gratefully. With all my heart. So there are still ponies in this war who can feel and empathize. It means not all is lost. And that’s what matters.

The snowfall grew heavier.

The unarmed pony in the gray overcoat walked through the empty town, carrying his friend carefully on his back. And silently falling white flakes were covering their tracks.

The medical tent reeked of blood, alcohol, and bleach. Greg wanted to get out of here, but he couldn’t yet. His legs still hurt, and he hadn’t walked all those miles through the snow just to put Stratospheres in someone else’s hooves and not even know how he was doing.

The doctor in the red cross helmet examined Dropper with undisguised disbelief.

“It’s a miracle he survived at all,” the medic muttered, glancing at Greg sitting next to him. “The abdominal wound was indeed serious. The sharp edges had damaged the intestinal wall and passed very close to the aorta. Any careless movement could have been fatal.”

The gray pony remembered throwing his friend to the ground in that alley and shivered.

“Tell me, Doctor… is he going to be okay?”

“Well, yes… as far as that’s possible.” The doctor, a middle-aged blonde unicorn, hummed in amazement. “I haven’t seen a patient since the war began who looked healthier… in terms of visible potential for recovery. Look at him: badly wounded, transported from the front on hooves, and now he’s sleeping like nothing happened! When it’s his turn, he’ll be operated on. Of course, his broken leg will bother him for a while, and his wing probably won’t be able to lift him into the air – but if he doesn’t get a bullet in his head or heart, he’ll live for a very long time.”

The doctor was silent for a moment, then turned back to Greg.

“You gave him the potion, but not immediately – several hours later, after you were safe. But in your hasty retreat from the front lines, you didn’t get a chance to take it with you. So, who gave you the medicine that’s now literally worth its weight in gold?”

“I met… a soldier,” Mellow replied, realizing that he had to do something. If he said the enemy had helped them, they would both end up as inglorious as Consited. “We reached a town and stopped to rest. A soldier passing by saw us and decided to help us. That’s all.”

“Maybe you remember a name? Rank, unit number?”

“He… didn’t introduce himself,” Greg smiled weakly. “Well, you know: the front, all that stuff… We just didn’t have time for that.”

“Okay, it’s a small thing,” the doctor sighed and turned to the other wounded waiting on the adjacent beds. “Excuse me, I have patients to attend to.”

Greg nodded and headed for the tent exit.

On his way, he suddenly stopped at an unattended tray of tools.

A shiver ran down the gray pony’s spine at the sight of all those scalpels, scissors, and other things he didn’t even know the names of. But on impulse, on hunch, he looked around, quickly grabbed a scalpel with his teeth and hoofed it into his pocket.

Stepping outside, he closed the door behind him and breathed in the frosty air, looking around at the temporary camp around him.

It had initially been a small rear base north of Everfree Forest, from which “volunteers” (at least that’s what the official chronicles called them) were transported to the front lines.

Now, after being forced to retreat, thousands of ponies had gathered here, fleeing the front to avoid being crushed by those they’d dragged through the mud yesterday. As Greg watched the entire herd charge, scramble, run, and shoot up with morphine, he could barely keep a straight face.

The end justifying the means cannot be righteous, he thought, stepping aside to let the medics pass with the stretcher carrying an injured batpony. And yet… why… why, why all this? What kind of stupid strategy is it to throw thousands of ponies to the front – instead of trying to improve something in the center? Why not try to establish a reasonable new order in Manehattan first? To find a compromise, so that the Gestaponies don’t search houses for more internal enemies and freaks like Zick don’t shoot prisoners in jails? So that on Hearth’s Warming Eve there’s a night party instead of a curfew?!

The gray stallion gritted his teeth.

But no – it’s surely needed to intimidate, propagandize, imprison, and send those who disagree into the thick of the battles! And the battles themselves – what are they for? To spread that hell all over Equestria? Oh, yes, that’s the real purpose of the new government! To maintain its miserable existence in the lands of a once united nation at any cost – even the lives of its own people. That’s what it’s all about. They don’t give a damn about the rest. Even if half the world goes up in flames, they want the Lunar Banner to keep flying over Manehattan.

Mellow sighed and lowered his head.

And I, like so many others, am condemned to be a tool of this regime. Must…

Suddenly he blinked.

Wait… but… why I… must?

At the sudden thought, the gray pony froze, staring into space with his mouth agape.

I just happened to be there when it all started. There was no way I could avoid that. I have nothing that links me to Nightmare Moon’s bloody regime. Except… he looked back at himself, except for the uniform I’m wearing.

He shifted his hooves and looked up at the mountain range that stretched north of the camp. Somewhere out there, on its western edge, Canterlot towered behind a shroud of clouds, and now the majestic city could finally feel safe and secure.

And since I have nothing to do here, why don’t I just…

His breath caught at the revelation, brilliant in its directness.

…leave?

The word, just one word, so simple and… so hard to find.

For a brain that was already beginning to be poisoned by the corrosive acid of war, despite Greg’s best efforts to remain normal and not slip over the edge of good and evil, to not become like the individuals around him, it was difficult, almost unrealistic, to think that there was a third option in the choice between becoming a monster and death.

Not to choose at all.

Do what morality, reason, and heart tell him to do.

Stand with the light.

Choose the good.

Do. Better.

But they won’t let me out, Greg sighed, lowering his eyes back to the camp. No way. Once Nightmare Moon traps you with her evil magic, she won’t let go. So…

The gray pony closed his eyes. And when he opened them again, they were burning with determination.

His lips curved into a triumphant grin.

I’ll leave myself. And as soon as possible. Before the LDs get here and make terror as usual. A memory flashed before his eyes: the body of a lilac pony killed in the mess hall at lunch. And they’re good at it, I know.

Greg’s eyes turned back to Equestria.

Tonight. I’ll do it tonight. No one can stop me yet. Everypony’s all fled, those fucking warriors…

Mellow snorted happily. He wasn’t afraid of anything anymore.

“Hey,” he called to a passing unicorn with a rifle, “where’s the mess hall around here?”

The unicorn stopped for a moment, pointed silently with his hoof, and galloped on. The Lavender, with a dozen notches on its buttstock, dangled funny on his back, flapping on his fat rump.

Greg fumbled in his pocket for his papers (what if they demanded to see them before giving him food?), then nodded slightly and headed in the direction he had been given.

A lilac twilight was falling over the camp. Hiding the ponies of the Equermacht that had gathered here. Hiding everything they had done.

Greg decided not to take anything. He had no weapon (except the stolen scalpel), and he was unlikely to get any at the camp: the next Four Stars shipment had been delayed, and a lot of the guns from the previous one, just before the offensive, had been left on the battlefield. Food was issued three times a day, one portion per pony – and it was really necessary to show a military ID, so it was impossible to stockpile. But Mellow was willing to put up with it – whatever it took to stop seeing those haunting symbols of the night light around him.

The darkness thickened like blackberry jam. The snow crunched by the hooves squeaked louder than an un-oiled wagon, so Greg tried to move through the drifts. It was slow, but at least it didn’t give him away too much.

There was a fence around the edge of the cluster of tents – thin metal poles with five rows of barbed wire stretched between them. The lowest one was very close to the ground, so climbing through it from below was a guaranteed injury. Or getting caught with one’s clothes.

There were also sentries around the perimeter. Mostly batponies, whose eyesight made them excellent night guards, and a few unicorns, who occasionally gave off the glow of telekinesis. Sentinels also roamed the camp. But there were only a few of them, and an ordinary pony might be able to get past them.

After waiting for an earth stallion in a battle saddle with two mounted rifles and a headlight helmet to pass, Greg slipped out from behind the corner of the barracks and crawled cautiously to the edge of the camp, burrowing into the snow.

Halfway there, he peered out of the snowdrift and immediately dropped his head back down. A batpony in an overcoat decorated with crescent moons and a helmet with a purple crest was approaching Greg, looking around the perimeter.

Mellow held his breath and tried not to move. The snow was cold as hell on his face and legs, and the gray pony was trying hard not to shiver.

Creak… creak… creak… creak…

The sentry was now right before him. If the thestral looked closely, he could see a strip of loosened snow ending right in front of his nose.

Greg mentally sent up a prayer to Celestia. He just didn’t know who else to turn to in these moments to ask for a small miracle.

For a while there was silence. His heartbeat sounded like a hammer in his ears – it was amazing that the batpony standing next to him couldn’t hear it! Greg painfully wanted to breathe, but that would give him away. Each passing second seemed like an eternity.

But when, in Greg’s opinion, a small universe had time to be born, live, and die, the snow creaked again nearby. Now the hoofsteps were fading away.

Having waited until the guard was far enough out of earshot, Mellow opened his mouth wide and breathed out. The gray pony was face down in the snow – and he couldn’t believe his luck.

But he had to keep going. It would be foolish to stop in the middle.

So Greg crawled on.

Finally, he reached the perimeter. The first row of wires was just above eye level, and it would be as suicidal to sneak out from below as to squeeze between the bottom two. Clothes might protect him, but the guards would definitely notice.

But Mellow had an ace up his sleeve.

After carefully rummaging through the pockets of his overcoat, the gray pony shook out the stolen scalpel on the snow and brought it to his mouth with his hoof. He took the sharp piece of iron carefully between his teeth, moved a little closer and began to cut the wire with the cold blade.

Very quickly Greg’s neck went stiff. It was very uncomfortable to move his head alone without the help of his legs, but he had no choice.

The stallion squeezed his eyes shut with effort. The damn wire was so hard to cut! The sound of metal on metal seemed to echo throughout the place.

Please, not now…!

Suddenly the wire snapped.

Mellow, who hadn’t expected it, fell headfirst into the snow again. His face was already wet – but not just from the melted snow. Tears of gratitude and relief were in Greg’s eyes.

The rest was just a matter of time.

The gray pony pushed aside the broken ends of the wire with his hoof and climbed into the hole. He had to bend over to avoid the second row, and he drew in his sides to avoid the scraps of barbed wire lying around.

The scalpel remained in the snow. The used tool was no longer of any use to him.

And only when he was completely on the other side, Greg laughed to himself.

He was free.

HE WAS FINALLY FUCKING FREE!!!

The gray pony crawled another twenty meters away from the camp before he got to his hooves.

He didn’t know exactly where to go, so he just kept going.

The light path he had chosen, as white as the endless snow around him or the pony that had helped him, had to lead somewhere sooner or later.

The path through the forest, trodden by the many soldiers who had come to the camp, was hard and squeaky underhoof, but Greg walked it carefully anyway, listening to the howl of the wind.

The moon appeared behind a light haze of clouds, and its pale, diffuse light was just enough to keep him from walking in total darkness. But he could hardly see his own hooves.

Greg’s nerves were as taut as the ropes of a sentry’s battle saddle. Despite his seemingly successful escape, the gray pony still twisted his head sharply and flinched every time the wind moved the bare bushes.

The main thing was to get as far away from the camp as possible. And then he could rest a little.

Suddenly something made Greg stop. A sound nearby, barely audible, but different from the noise of the winter forest.

Mellow glanced cautiously to one side, then to the other. He turned and looked back.

Nothing.

A chill ran down his spine and the stallion could barely keep his teeth from gritting.

If Greg heard any more suspicious noises now, he would surely break into a gallop and run deeper into the forest.

But all was silent. Only the wind, the rustle of branches and his own heavy breathing.

Greg stood still for a moment, then moved on.

Suddenly the same sound came again, louder this time, and as if right over his ear.

And the gray pony recognized it.

It was the flapping of the leathery wings of the thestral.

Greg didn’t have time to raise his head. Something heavy crashed down on his back, sending him sprawling on the snow. The impact knocked all the air out of his lungs and his eyes filled with tears. The poorly secured helmet flew off his head and landed somewhere nearby.

A cold blade stabbed at his neck, and he heard a whisper, “Furprife, moferfucka!”

“You…” Greg exhaled in disbelief, trying to see who was lying on top of him out of the corner of his eye.

But this pony was one he already knew.

Dusty Night grinned, clenching his trusty knife in his teeth. The sharp edge shifted, slicing through the skin of Greg’s neck.

“I’ve watched you for a long time, Greg Mellow,” the thestral hissed, his tongue pushing the knife to the corner of his mouth. “And your friend too… sorry, I can’t remember his name, that’s too silly… I didn’t like you two from the beginning. Too kind… too naive… maybe just cowards… or enemies.”

He grinned and swung the blade at Greg’s throat.

“And I was right. But your cellmate turned out to be just a trembling idiot, but you aroused my sincere interest. Unlike him, who shat his pants at the mere thought of pulling the trigger, you weren’t afraid to pick up a gun and shoot. Except you only hit once in all that time, and I even know where you were aiming.”

The batpony pressed his hoof down on Mellow’s head, pinning the gray pony to the ground.

“Missing! You were aiming to miss on purpose! And even in combat, you preferred to fight with the butt of your rifle, leaving the commander and I to do all the dirty work. Dropper’s the one who’s really dedicated to his cause, his country, and the Horsecoacher… albeit a bit too lenient. And you two were just a bunch of pathetic subponies. But if that horned asshole was just scared out of his mind, you’re much more interesting…”

“Don’t you dare… talk like that… about Consited!”

Greg struggled to get his head out from under Dusty’s hoof.

A hard slap on his ear made him howl and put his nose back in the snow.

“And what are you gonna do to me, huh?” the thestral hissed. “You’re trapped. You can’t escape. You’re an enemy of the Republic, an enemy of the Lunar Army. And to hide your vile intentions, you dragged your commander here alone, preventing him from dying heroically on the battlefield while you planned to join the other side! But I’ll stop you. I’m gonna finish you here and now.”

“And you?” Greg snapped at him with a jerk of his head. “What did you do? You just ran away – the very first one, leaving your squad, including me and Dropper, at the front! So who’s the bigger culprit, me or you?”

“Shut up!”

Dusty punched him in the jaw.

A nasty metallic taste spilled into his mouth. Greg spat, wishing he could do the same to the batpony’s face.

The blade of the knife turned again toward the gray stallion’s neck.

“Get ready to die, Greg Mellow,” Dusty said. “You deserve it like no one else.”

No… no, no, no, no!

Greg couldn’t believe what was about to happen. After all, he’d been on the front lines for ten days, fighting – despite some significant moments – in the very first ranks. And he survived! Survived, damn it! Unlike many who were cut down by machine gun fire from planes or grenade shrapnel from the enemy.

And it all had to end so stupidly?!

But I know the answer. My resistance now goes beyond quiet sabotage.

To be free, I must fight. Wrest my right from those who, by their own or imposed beliefs, deny it.

But dying in battle is not nearly as humiliating as meekly sticking out the neck.

So when Dusty Night swung the knife clenched in his teeth, Greg tensed his entire body and with a mighty jerk threw the thestral from him, sending Dusty into a nearby snowdrift.

The gray earth pony rose to his hooves, breathing heavily… and barely had time to jump aside.

The knife thrown by the thestral sliced through his overcoat and whistled into the darkness. If Greg hadn’t seen Dusty kill Consited in exactly the same way, he wouldn’t have expected anything like that from his former squadmate. And he certainly wouldn’t dodge.

But now it was his turn to make a move.

Without waiting for the batpony to grab another knife (if, of course, he had really prepared for the clash), Greg lunged straight at his opponent. Dusty was already spreading his wings – probably to escape this time. But the earth pony was faster.

He crashed into Dusty Night at full speed, and they both rolled in the loose, cold snow, clutching each other.

After a short struggle, Greg was on top, and he didn’t wait for the next attack.

A hard hoof strike made the thestral tilt his head back and spit out a few teeth. In the faint light of the moon, some kind of dark splatter was visible, frozen to the snow.

Blood. It’s blood again. But now I’m ready to spill it.

Not because I’m a sadistic, paranoid, moral freak, no. Well, not so much because of that.

But first and foremost, out of self-defense.

After a few more blows, the thestral fell silent and didn’t move again. After checking his mouth with his hoof to make sure there were no sharp objects, Greg leaned down to his face and exhaled reassuredly.

Dusty Night was breathing.

Oh, he’s simply passed out. Still, knowing how insidious the ponies fanatically loyal to the Republic could be, I think it’s best to leave.

Unlike Stratospheres, this one clearly doesn’t deserve the mercy of being brought to the camp for help.

Greg strode forward – unarmed, unhelmeted, and wearing a torn gray overcoat. The moon that had emerged from the clouds illuminated his path, which looked like a white trail through the dark night.

Chapter Five. Defector

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Chapter Six. Battlefields

March – April 1008

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

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

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

But being lost and sparsely populated had its advantages.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She sighed again. “But how…?”

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Who is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. One more thing…”

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

After a while she hoofed the sheet to the officer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But now her lips were curved into a gambling smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Anything else?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fortunately, not against each other.

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

“Well, let’s say Ah c’n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or what?”

Applesnack lifted his chin and glared defiantly at Macintosh.

“Ya’ll see,” he replied calmly. “So?”

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

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

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

“Anythin’ else, sir?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The others, led by McIntosh, went after her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And if necessary, destroyed.

A soft coughing sounded nearby and Cynosura turned around.

“Everypony ready?”

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

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

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

“Like what?” Cynosura raised an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If we only have time…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that didn’t matter now.

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

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

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

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

But not even that was the main thing.

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

An entire swarm of armed thestrals.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cobalt swore through his teeth.

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

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

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

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

“Grenade…!”

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

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

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

Well, it could have been worse. Much worse.

“Everypony okay?!” Cobalt asked.

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

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

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

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

“Watch out!”

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

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

“For Nightmare Moon!”

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

BANG! BANG! the marines’ rifles thundered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was immediately banged on.

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

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

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

Cynosura exhaled in relief and leaned back against the bulkhead.

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

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

“All right! Who’s this?”

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

Probably afraid it’s just a diversion.

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

“Okay, come in!”

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

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

“Long live Equestria!”

All three saluted bravely.

The captain saluted back and looked at Cynosura.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cynosura and Cobalt looked at each other.

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

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

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

And the ponies were not happy about it.

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

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

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

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

At least until this day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly where the rest of the troop was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meanwhile, new forces began to advance on the enemy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m almost out! Cover me some more!”

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

“What…”

He didn’t finish.

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

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

And was stunned.

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

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

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

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

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

A faint chuckle came from under the helmet.

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

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

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

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

Vanity ran after him, taking turns firing his pistols.

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

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

Macintosh lowered his head and looked at Applesnack again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Too… late…”

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

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

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

“Sir, how’s he…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that was just the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right in front of the Equermacht soldier.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The battle was engaged. Again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh bitch…!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The batpony just snarled through his teeth at this remark.

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

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

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

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

“Port of entry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lieutenant-Commander Alastor Grim has lost consciousness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a loud stomp of applause from the audience.

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

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

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

“…and Comrade Serov.”

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

The applause became a little more modest.

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

“Thank you, Comrade Sladkaya.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again the hooves were raised and the count was hastened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right-wing fanatic,” he replied coldly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why have you come?” he finally spoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you hearing yourself…?”

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

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

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

“Okay, now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A shadow ran across her face.

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

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

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

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

“Do you know or not?”

“Well… I know. But… what you…”

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

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

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

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

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

“That we have a different understanding of its independence.”

Vasiliy was silent for a moment, then spoke again. “Your eyes…” Altidiya looked at him in surprise. “Red and blue – like two suns from the star system in Studislav Lime’s book… And you, like a planet orbiting around them, are just as much a mystery.”

“Vas… Do you really think I betrayed my party and my country by going to the Crystal Empire?”

Wheatin hesitated. He took a handkerchief from his vest pocket and wiped his glasses. Then he turned his head and let out a single word, “Yes.”

“Go away, Pantsushenko,” Altidiya said quietly. “You can’t help anyone now. Not me, not the Party… not all of Severyana. And I even more.”

“I’m sorry to part like this,” Vasiliy replied, getting up from the bench. “We are really too different.”

“Indeed,” the beige-red pony whispered, looking after him.

Wheatin walked along the fence, then back through the gate. Passing Sinister, who had already opened his mouth, to the waiting black Lorga, he said, “I’m going home to prepare for tomorrow. And you can rest. Have a good time,” and got into the car which started up right away.

Sinister watched a shiny black car with the license plate A111AA leave the parking lot. Then he shook his head and got into the car himself, nodding briefly to the driver.

“To the Metropole. And hurry up.”

A pale, diffuse light streamed in through the windows of the apartment. The morning was cloudy; outside, shouts of joy and the clatter of hundreds of hooves could be heard as demonstrations in support of the new General Secretary were taking place all over Stalliongrad.

The apartment itself looked like an island of peace and comfort, a place to which it was so pleasant to escape after a hard day’s work. Reproductions of paintings, a carpet on one of the walls, wallpaper with flowers and stars – almost nothing here reminded that the former party leader lived here.

Altidiya, changed from her uniform to a simple house robe, sat on the sofa in the living room and listened to the radio. On the nightstand beside her was an unread book, set aside in the middle, a glass of water and a jar of pills, and next to the radio on the dresser was a telephone gleaming with black ebonite.

The former General Secretary was staring into the void, her eyes fixed somewhere beyond the antenna of the radio receiver. The brand-new Elektronika-8 echoed with the sound of someone’s speech, slightly interspersed with the crackle of interference, but its sounds, like the noise of the demonstration, were of no interest to Altidiya at the moment. The beige-red pony seemed to shut herself away, lost in the gloomy thoughts that had haunted her since she had lost everything.

But little by little, her ears picked up more and more phrases from the audio signal that tugged at her mind. And soon Altidiya found herself listening intently to Wheatin’s inauguration speech.

Partly because he was talking about her now.

“…thanks in large part to our unity and solidarity,” the new General Secretary spoke excitedly. “But after the case of Comrade Revoltsova, who gave in to personal ambition instead of respecting the opinion of the majority, we can no longer rely on her course of rapprochement with capitalist Equestria, disguised by propaganda about improving the standard of living! The most valuable thing is always what you produce with your own hooves, not what you receive as a hoof-out from those who want to destroy us! Therefore, I call upon everyone…”

Tears welled in Altidiya’s eyes, and her breathing became labored and intermittent.

The mare could hardly hold back the tears. How many… years had passed since she had last cried? Probably five – that was when Comrade Stallion had just died. And until today, she, Altidiya, the second General Secretary in the history of Severyana, had always tried to appear self-confident and unbending.

Unfortunately, now the mask was broken.

And with a reason! She had been betrayed – stabbed in the back, thrown off her pedestal, wiped out with hooves! And by whom – the former comrade-in-arms of the revolution, who turned out to be a clever schemer and manipulator! He turned against her the entire Central Committee, the entire Party, from which even the whole liberal wing was razed to the ground, and now he is ruining all her hard-won heritage!

In the old days, such thoughts would have aroused in the beige-red pony anger and the desire to fight back, to show not only the offender but also all the others that there is still life in the old dog…!

But now they were only devastation and weakness.

She understood that now. Without the support of others, nopony can stay where they are. And if you don’t have that support, you’re bound to fall. Or not – a stool would fall from under your hooves, while your neck would be in a rope.

“…But we must not forget the threat of the murderous, terrorist Lunazi regime, led by Nightmare Moon, approaching from the south,” Wheatin continued. “We are still relatively safe because the so-called Lunar Republic (the actual Lunar Reich, to use a word from the Griffon language) cannot fight a two-front war right now! Our soldiers guard the border and are ready for any turn of events, but it is not enough to sleep well. We have no need to go to war ourselves, so we will not yet denounce the Crystal Pact concluded by Comrade Revoltsova – but we will fulfill it exactly to the extent that it corresponds to the interests of Stalliongrad. Furthermore, to avoid the humiliation experienced by the delegation from Severyana at the signing ceremony, I ask the Central Committee to consider creating a new national anthem…”

Altidiya couldn’t hold back any longer. Tears dripped from her eyes, leaving gray stains on the white fabric of her robe.

The former General Secretary mourned for the Severyana she wanted but couldn’t build. She mourned Equestria, now fighting a war for survival. And the hope for peace that Vasiliy had effectively snatched away from millions of ponies.

Suddenly, it was as if a lake of lava had poured into her chest. The pain was so intense and sharp that Altidiya gasped and coughed, her eyes bulging.

Everything blurred before her eyes; the mare could no longer see where she was or what was around her. Her trembling hoof reached for the nightstand, but her body tipped sideways, and the jar fell to the floor, along with the glass and book. The pills scattered on the carpet with a light, almost inaudible thud.

Telephone… came an indistinct thought, as if shrouded in a thick gray fog. I must… call…

With the last of her strength, Altidiya crawled to the dresser against the far wall. Half a room, a mere two meters away… But even that distance seemed longer than it was to Storm King’s domain in southern Zebrica.

To raise a hoof, to pull herself up... The pain in her chest grew, becoming unbearable. The fire inside her was burning stronger, scorching away any hope and strength to fight.

Finally, she got to the dresser. Unable to stand and reach the telephone, Altidiya yanked at the wire, and the device fell to the floor with a thud. Her legs stiffened, and with great effort the beige-red pony managed to pick up the receiver and put it to her ear.

The long beeps rose and fell, making Altidiya dizzy, even though she felt almost nothing compared to the pain in her chest.

Reach for the disk, turn it…

Zero. The first digit of a number known to every foal in Stalliongrad.

The disk spun back up with a grinding sound. All that was left was to turn it once more. Just one more time…!

But even this was too much for Altidiya.

With a tremendous effort of will, she overpowered herself and pressed the tip of her hoof against the slot, moving her leg sideways. Her vision cleared for a moment, and she could see the brass disk slowly turning to a stop under her pressure.

Three… The number of the emergency service she was about to call.

As soon as the number was dialed, her hoof jerked away, and she fell helplessly to the floor. Altidiya lay on her belly, her head twisted. The nearby receiver was pressed against her ear.

“Ambulance! Give me a name and address!” came the ringing voice of the operator mare. “Hello! Speak louder, I can’t hear you…!”

“Agh… ah…”

Altidiya tried to say something, but all she could get out of her throat was a series of choked gasps.

She ran out of air. The pain in her chest shot a blindingly bright pulse one last time…

And then everything faded.

The receiver kept saying something, but there was no one else to hear the worried words.

Altidiya Revoltsova, former General Secretary of the S.C.P. and now an ordinary pony, lay motionless on the floor. Her eyes were open, frozen in unbearable agony, staring into space like two dead stars.

The wind came in through the window, ruffling the curtains. It blew through the pages of a book that had fallen from the nightstand, and a ray of sunlight peeking out from behind the clouds highlighted a sentence on one of them: “…Yes, a pony is mortal, but that would be only half the trouble. The worst of it is that he’s sometimes unexpectedly mortal.”

A trail of saliva dripped onto the carpet. The previously agonized muscles relaxed. The beige-red pony’s face was frozen with a mute question that would never be answered.

And there it was, on the carpet in the middle of a cozy and bright room, all alone, with a broken heart, betrayed and mercilessly hunted, Altidiya, the pony who had managed to become the leader of a young nation, ended in infinite disaster her glorious and exciting career. Altidiya, the gifted leader whose love for her country the world has never seen.

The sound of engines rumbled through the air. In a large clearing near the river were many army trucks and even a few tanks, with ponies in gray-green uniforms scurrying among them. The doors and sides of the vehicles bore the markings of the Lunar Republic – purple outlines of wings and a long horn pointing upward.

The sunlight gently caressed the yellow-green grass; spring had come to this part of the former Equestria. The wind swayed the awnings on the bodies of the trucks, but there was a distinct uneasiness in its soft whistling.

A slanted sign with three arrows on a dirt road not far away announced:

Hoof City → 15 miles
55 miles ← Dodge City
127 miles ← Hoofington.

And judging by the direction the headlights of the vehicles and the barrels of the tanks were pointing, this whole army was clearly not on the way to the closer location.

A beige pegasus in a well-fitting tunic with insignia shining in the spring sun jumped out of the truck in front of the huge column. He wore gray epaulets with two silver four-ray stars on his shoulders, double officer patches on his collar, and chevrons with three stripes and a comet on his sleeves. His left wing, which was out through a slit in his tunic, looked broken and could hardly lift him into the air. But the pegasus seemed oblivious to this – or had accepted it. A look of anticipation and confidence could be seen on his face.

Stratospheres Dropper, now the hauptmann of the Equermacht, called one of the soldiers over, and soon shouts of “Line up!” filled the clearing.

After a while, straight lines formed along the side of the cluster of vehicles.

Dropper stepped forward and spoke.

“Attention, everypony! Today we’re honored to carry out the most daring, unexpected, and lightning-fast operation in recent military history! In just four hours, we’ll cover the required distance and forever write our names in golden letters in military textbooks!”

The pegasus began to walk in front of the silently listening formation.

“The operation will be called ‘Lunar Defender.’ We’ll drive along the road to Dodge City almost to the line of contact with the Southern States, but just before it we’ll turn into the woods and break through the defenses of the South at its weakest point – between the deployment areas of their divisions. Then we’ll head south at top speed toward Hoofington.”

He paused and looked over the ranks of the soldiers. “But our main objective lies a li’l further afield. And it’s one that none of you have ever dreamed of.”

Dropper grinned, watching the lively reaction to his words, and announced, “Our task is to seize the Hoofington Space Center, which has been transferred by Immortal Horsecoacher Luna’s Decree No. 7 of Frimaire second to the ownership of the New Lunar Republic! The Confederation of Southern States doesn’t know what to do with it – so we’re gonna take it for ourselves! Intel says there are no serious military defenses there, and any retreat from the border will mean further advance for the Lunar Army! We simply cannot fail! They have no tanks, no aviation, and all their forces are spent holding back the Buffalo, who’ve taken over half of their territory! They even have only two machine guns, and those are with their self-appointed president and sheriff in Appleloosa!” A chuckle went through the ranks at these words. “We’ll crush them and create an NLR island near Hoofington that we can successfully defend, and then the Equermacht will make a permanent corridor there! We’ll do what nopony has ever done before! Glory to the Republic! Praise the Moon!”

He made a moonlight, and everyone threw a hoof up after him.

“To the cars,” Dropper ordered hoarsely. “Let’s go right now. Weapons ready. Disperse!”

Without looking at the ponies rushing to the vehicles, the pegasus strode back to the truck.

He climbed into the cab on the driver’s side, slammed the door shut. Anyone else in his place would have puffed on a cigarette, but Dropper didn’t smoke. He still didn’t, even though he knew he would never fly again.

And only the alicorns knew what he was thinking as he stared out at the road disappearing into the horizon.

The truck’s engine roared and the car started. All the others followed.

The Lunar Army’s assault on Hoofington was underway.

And not a single pony, no matter how powerful a wizard he or she might be, could imagine where this adventure would eventually lead.

Cynosura awoke to a persistent knocking at the cabin door.

“What the hay happened out there…?” the mare muttered, wiping her sleepy eyes.

She rolled over onto her belly and glanced at the alarm clock with the fluorescent hands screwed to the bedside table.

Four in the morning. Outside, dawn was probably just beginning to break. That meant something serious had happened.

Slumber slipped away in an instant. Putting on her shirt, Cynosura waddled on three legs to the exit, pulled the latch and opened the door.

On the threshold stood Ensign Sea Spirit.

“Ma’am,” he greeted the white, blue-haired pony. “The watch pony has just spotted smoke on the horizon. Course three hundred and thirty, range thirty cables!”

The bulky stallion breathed heavily and spoke excitedly and quickly. At the same time, he rolled his eyes to the side, trying not to look at the half-dressed mare.

Cynosura grinned to herself, but then sighed.

“I’ll be right there. Just give me a minute.”

Then she disappeared back into her quarters, leaving the fat guy fretting in the corridor.

After a while, she was standing on the captain’s bridge. Sea Spirit had helped her walk most of the way, which made Cynosura feel a little uncomfortable.

Now she was looking through the binoculars at a group of smoke jets approaching from the northwest. They were barely visible in the pale gray morning haze – but the rear admiral knew this sight well and could not be fooled.

Cobalt and the captain stood beside her, along with the first mate. All were silent, staring glumly at the horizon, and each of them knew what it meant.

The Lunar Fleet had come for their souls.

The Sun Princess was anchored near the island where her squadron had fought the two Chiropterran ships, in the same rocky cove where the frigate and the troop carrier full of thestrals had emerged. The rest of Cynosura’s ships huddled in the strait between this islet and the neighboring one to the west, which was considerably larger and forested – but also uninhabited. The fact that the Dragons had agreed to their permanent presence in the territorial waters played into the hands of the Equestrian sailors: in anticipation of the enemy, almost the entire fleet of the Spa Islands had gathered here to offer a decent resistance in case of an emergency.

And now, it seemed, the time had come.

But no one was happy. Although the Lunar Republic could not send all of its ships across half an ocean, they were still outnumbered, judging by the number of smokes. Therefore, tactics and strategy were needed to counterbalance them.

The prisoners, by the way, were sent to one of the bases in Equestria’s archipelago. There, they were put to hard labor and guarded to make sure they didn’t try anything. Doctors tended to the severely injured, and those who could fly had their wings chained. Cynosura personally told the Chiropterrans that they would be shot for the slightest disobedience, and it seemed to have an effect. Even the insolent Alastor had been quieter than a mouse when he and the others were shackled in iron.

So far, at least, there had been no news of riots or discontent.

The unicorns left on the island had been neutralized. They were hunted down and driven into one of the caves, then told to surrender. In response, one of them blew up a rock with his magic, the second apparently covered them all with a shield, and the third teleported them outside. Together they tried to fly away using self-levitation, but the pegasi pursued them. Finally, the brave Chiropterran soldiers blew themselves up with their remaining grenades and fell into the sea, from which the marines could only retrieve their mangled bodies.

But what caught Cynosura’s attention were the amulets implanted in the unicorns’ chests, apparently used as storage devices. The mages from the technical service said that the crystals in such talismans could store a very large charge, so the “saboteurs” had to pour their reserves into them almost constantly, which made them feel unwell. Again, drugs were useful here as well.

So, there were no more problems on the island itself.

Unlike the sea, where enemy ships were getting closer every second.

“Follow plan A,” ordered the rear admiral, removing the binoculars from her eyes. “Move out and surround them from the north, driving them to the shore. And then as far as we have enough shells.”

The mate went down to the wheelhouse, and the next minute the cruiser came out of the bay and, picking up speed, raced northward. The other ships moved out of the strait and followed the Sun Princess.

Traversing the enemy fleet, Cynosura was able to get a better look at the composition of the forces arrayed against them. And what she saw, she didn’t like at all.

If her eyes and binoculars were to be believed, there were twenty-six ships against her twenty. But what ships! There were one or two more frigates, destroyers, corvettes, and gunboats than Cynosura had in each of those classes. In a direct fire duel, her gunners would have a hard time.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The light ships of the Lunar Navy were accompanied by two that the mare would prefer not to encounter. One of them was a cruiser of the same class as the Sun Princess but painted dark blue instead of white. However, as far as Cynosura could remember from the day she and Admiral Hoover had led the ships out of Baltimare, this cruiser was the only one that had sworn allegiance to Nightmare Moon. Still, it was not a pleasant thing to confront in battle.

And the cruiser was followed by a battleship.

Cynosura shuddered at the sight of that dark, frightening mass. This huge thing was one and a half times larger than her flagship, and the main caliber of its guns was 234 millimeters compared to her 152. The mare had seen such a gun fired at one of the ships leaving the NLR: a single hit had been enough to crumple the destroyer and send it crashing to the bottom in flames. It would take no more than two salvos on her cruiser – though that was no consolation, of course.

Before the war, there had been two battleships in Equestria, both named after the Princesses. And the Celestia was the flagship of the formation that left for the breakaway Vanhoover last fall. But the Luna, rumored to have been renamed the Night Child, remained in the Republic. And now, with the crescent moon at its sides, it was surrounded by smaller ships, heading straight for Cynosura’s flotilla.

A shiver ran down the back of the blue-haired pony. She bit her lip, looking down at the cold, leaden waves.

Those words I said in front of the prisoner, that we would destroy Luna’s fleet, were just bravado, Cynosura thought. I just had to keep my dignity in front of him since I couldn’t stand properly. And even now… oops…

She staggered, and Cobalt came over to gently pick her up.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Rear Admiral?” he asked worriedly. “Maybe you’d like to come down to the wheelhouse?”

“No,” Cynosura shook her head and stepped back, placing her front hoof on the bulwark. “I need to see what’s going on.” And without turning around, she ordered, “Hold formation! Stay on course for five more cables, then turn around! Guns to battle!”

The ship went into the excitement that usually precedes a battle. The ponies ran to and fro, carrying weapons from the deck pyramids or crates of shells. But there was no fuss in the general commotion – the crew moved like a single, finely tuned mechanism that simply couldn’t misfire now.

Cynosura wasn’t sure if the plan would work. She hadn’t expected the enemy forces to be so numerous. Theoretically, she could lure some of the armada to the islet where they had encountered the Chiropterrans back then: she had ordered several light cannons to be set up on the rocks. But then they would be pinned to the shore and shot down, as if she had placed all her ships on the outermost lines at the bottom in the foal game of Battleship.

And not even the entire fleet would be enough: while the frigates, destroyers, and cruisers bombarded the Sun Princess, the battleship would turn to the Mountain and aim its cannons at the main island.

After all, the Dragons had no naval forces of their own. Princess Amber turned the national focus to ponitical and industrial development, with the primary goal of making the Dragonlands an economically independent state. In part, she invested in the military as well. And only recently, after the incident with the Chiropterrans, had the blue dragoness of the Torch Dynasty begun to take the first steps toward building a navy. And now she was getting into trouble with it.

So the only thing left to do was to follow the strategy chosen before the battle. And pray that the plan would work.

But whoever was commanding the enemy fleet, this pony also saw what Cynosura wanted to achieve. And so the dark blue ships, which had been moving in a single formation, split up, clearly intending to surround the Equestrian fleet from both sides and drive it into a death trap.

And worst of all, there was no way to avoid it.

“Plan B!” ordered the mare. “Spread out! Full ahead! Tie them up with artillery!”

The formation broke up immediately. Frigates, corvettes, and destroyers scattered in all directions like similarly charged magnets, imperceptibly finding themselves amidst the enemy armada.

The guns rumbled: at full speed, Cynosura’s ships tried to distract the Coltsmarine gunners, divert their attention, then turn and strike again.

The Sun Princess slipped so close to the enemy cruiser that the rear admiral could read the name inscribed aboard in ancient script in blinding white paint: ECLIPSE.

Well, let’s see if their Moon can cover our Sun, Cynosura hummed to herself.

The enemy didn’t seem to expect such a maneuver, so they could only fire into the void, trying in vain to keep up with the nimble Equestrians. Even the battleship fought back with a few shots, but its huge nine-inch shells also fell into the water, not even close to hitting the shore or the flotilla.

“Turn around!” Cynosura shouted as her ships sliced through the enemy formation, coming at the Coltsmarine from the rear. “Torpedo tubes to battle!”

Another trick that had to be used. The main thing now was not to get hit the same way.

“All ahead two-thirds!”

After turning around, the Equestrian ships rushed past the enemy crafts again, this time catching up. But now Cynosura’s fleet wasn’t moving as fast as before. And that played into their hooves again.

The enemy torpedoes, fired too early, almost all missed, only blowing up one gunboat and damaging the bow of one destroyer. But the Equestrians’ salvo hit its target, causing more explosions and almost equalizing the forces.

Except for the battleship.

The Night Child opened fire again with artillery. The torpedoed destroyer suddenly exploded into a ball of flame and black smoke – and fell out of formation, sinking right before Cynosura’s eyes. Just like during the battle at Baltimare.

The mare gritted her teeth, drilling the dark blue giant with an unfriendly look.

If this keeps up, they’ll wipe us out one by one.

“Full ahead! Try to surround them again!”

But watching the unfolding image of the sea battle, Cynosura realized more and more that her next plan wasn’t destined to come to fruition.

The Lunar ships formed an impassable wall for the Equestrians trying to break through, tying them up in close combat. The two fleets were split into pairs or threes of ships skirmishing with each other, and if the battle had been truly even, it would have been decided by ammunition reserves, landing force activity, or successful maneuvers.

But the enemy had a battleship that was no match in this battle.

Now what the rear admiral had feared was happening. The huge machine separated from the main group and, approaching the shore, fired a main-caliber salvo at the Mountain where the capital of the dragon state was located. Columns of dust and smoke billowed over the central island. In the sky, the shapes of dragons, looking like small dots, could be seen darting back and forth.

Cynosura sighed and bowed her head. Her breath whistled through her clenched teeth, and her heart ached with bitter regret.

I’ve lost. I let them all down. I risked our lives, hoping to win. But the enemy not only evened the stakes, they raised them many times over – while we had nothing else left.

Suddenly, the mare lifted her chin again. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the Night Child. The huge ship seemed to be preparing to attack the defenseless dragons once more.

But we don’t need anything else. Everything for victory is within us. And first and foremost, it is our lives. We are alive – so we can still fight. And we are ready to sacrifice everything for peace and justice. And that’s our main trump card, which they don’t have.

Cynosura grinned. After all, if you don’t risk, you don’t drink eighty-proof cider.

“Rear Admiral!” someone’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.

Cobalt turned. Sea Spirit ran up to her and Cobalt and hoofed Cynosura a sheet of text.

“There’s a radio message from the battleship. Will we send a reply?”

“Surrender, traitors of the pony race. You cannot win,” Cynosura read and shook her head. “Well, it’s not us who are the traitors here. We just disagree with what they’re going to do for us.”

She turned, trying not to fall on her weakened hind leg, and looked into Sea Spirit’s eyes. The stallion in the black pea jacket flinched at the determination in that look.

“Tell them,” Cynosura said, “that Equestria will not surrender. And one more thing… All ships!” she shouted. “Keep them away from the shore! Call fire on yourselves, do whatever it takes, but we must leave their battleship uncovered! Take them to the next island, where the shore guns will work on them! And we –” she looked out to sea where the Eclipse was closing in on the Sun Princess, “– will hoofle this here.”

The ensign looked stunned by the pressure of a mare almost half his size, but he pulled himself together immediately. “Yes, ma’am!” He saluted and ran back to the radio room.

“Rear Admiral,” Cobalt addressed the blue-haired pony, “are you sure? Is this really necessary?”

“Dunno, Major,” Cynosura sighed and looked up at him. “Do you have any other options?”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, then Cobalt looked away and muttered, “No, I don’t. Sorry, Rear Admiral.”

“At ease, Major. In the face of death, we are all equal. You should know that.”

Cobalt didn’t answer. He just gritted his teeth and stared at the approaching hulk of the strange cruiser.

Cynosura stretched out her leg in the direction of the enemy ship and, taking in a full lung of air, screamed with all her might, “FIRE!!!”

And then all hell broke loose.

Her ears were deafened by the guns’ roar. Shells fell into the water ahead and behind the ships, and soon it seemed the hit count would remain zero. But then another arc of smoke crossed the air, and a bright red fountain of flame erupted from the bow of the Eclipse. The sailors greeted the shot with joyous shouts.

“Don’t let up!” Cynosura ordered. “Keep firing! Torpedoes ready!”

Breathing heavily and clutching the superstructure railing with her hooves, the mare watched the cruiser that seemed a dark reflection of her flagship.

We must sink it. Just must! Otherwise… She gritted her teeth. No! I can’t think about that! We shall definitely win…!

But then the enemy ship slowed sharply and began to disappear in the morning mist somewhere behind the Sun Princess.

“Slow ahead!” Cynosura yelled. “Left ninety! Abort launch!”

“Too late,” Cobalt said quietly. “They’ve already fired.”

The mare stopped and, eyes wide, watched with the rest of the crew as several trails of foaming water crossed the ocean and disappeared at the horizon.

No… it can’t be…!

A flashing hunch made Cynosura flinch as if from an electric shock. Slowly, with a chilling horror in her eyes, she turned her head towards the dark silhouette…

…which had already turned its port side towards the white ship that had passed by.

The impact was so powerful that all the ponies were thrown to the deck. Cynosura groaned at the sharp pain that pierced her back near her left hip.

We can’t… lose… like this…

Cobalt grabbed her sleeve and lifted her to her hooves. Standing on the captain’s bridge, swaying with the rest of the ship, she turned her gaze to the stern. And went cold.

Black smoke billowed from the back of the cruiser. And the Princess herself was slowly but surely sinking into the water.

This is the end, Cynosura thought doomedly. The best thing for us to do is to evacuate. But the lifeboats will probably all be sunk, so it’s unlikely that anyone will really escape. In the meantime, the mare looked hatefully at the enemy battleship and cruiser, they’ll blow the main island to Discord. Depriving the dragons we swore to protect not only of their land, but of their future.

“Damage report!” she exhaled. “Any casualties?”

The captain had just finished listening to the nervously shaking sailor who had run up to him and approached Cynosura. And now he looked as black as thunder.

“The engine is damaged,” he reported. –“One of the fuel tanks is punctured as well. Two of the mechanics are injured, nopony is dead. But we’ll only be able to keep moving for a short time. And not very fast. There is a hole in the hold and water is coming in. We’ll try to pump it out, but it won’t do us any good.”

He gave Cynosura a glance under his brows, and the mare realized that they were thinking the same thing.

“We must either flee… or stay here and fight until our last breath. I can certainly take charge and give the necessary orders… but it would be better if you did it.” He looked into Cynosura’s eyes. “What is your choice, Rear Admiral?”

The blue-haired pony looked back at him in silence. And damn it, they both knew exactly what she was going to say.

Turning around, Cynosura saw many ponies crowded on the upper deck. Sailors and petty officers, ensigns and lieutenants, mechanics and marines. All were waiting for her decision.

With Cobalt’s help, she walked over to the railing of the captain’s bridge and looked around at the ponies gathered below. Some of them had a rifle in the air or clutched it in their hooves, others had a wrench or something else. But they all looked at her right now, trusting her unconditionally, ready to follow her into Tartarus if she commanded. For her…

No. Not for me. But for our country.

“Listen up, everypony!” Cynosura spoke, and her voice, with no megaphone, echoed across the deck, overpowering the sound of the wind and the distant roar of the cannons. “We got into a difficult situation. The enemy outnumbered us, and despite our best efforts, we were unable to turn the tide of battle. We managed to drive some of the enemy ships back to the neighboring island, where they were met by artillery fire. But so far, we have no news of our ships there. We’re alone against these giant monsters – you’ve seen them yourselves. We have two choices: either a shameful surrender and retreat, or a desperate counterattack and a ghostly chance of salvation…”

Her words were drowned out by the thunder of the battleship’s cannons as they struck again at the defenseless island.

Waiting for the rumble of crumbling rock to subside, she continued.

“We are strangers in these waters. But the dragons have accepted our help and support. And we can’t just let a bunch of freaks who think they're the masters of the world turn an entire country into ashes! What’s more, their ground and air forces have been slaughtering Equestrian civilians for months! This is the same enemy we fought to get out of Baltimare before it even separated from the lands Nightmare Moon captured! And that is why” – she cracked her hoof on the railing – “we will do battle now! For Equestria!”

“FOR EQUESTRIA!!!” roared the crowd, breaking into stomping, shouting, and whistling.

Cynosura stood over the many excited ponies - and felt their energy fill her with confidence again.

I am responsible for them. But all of us together are also responsible for peace and order in this corner of the vast world. I can finally serve my country – by destroying its enemies.

“Places, everypony!” she ordered. “Get ready!” And, turning around, somewhere in space, “Set course for the Eclipse!”

“I think you’ve gone a little overboard,” Cobalt said, glancing at Cynosura as she tried to catch her breath after her speech. “What’s the use of such pathos? We just do our duty, that’s all. We obey your orders, whatever they may be. So what more do you want?”

“Do you think I’m a bad commander?” the mare asked, adjusting her cap on her head.

“No,” the major shook his head. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in your position. I just hope you know what we are willing to give our lives for. We do, and each of us has his own answer. The important thing is that you realize your responsibility too.”

“I do, Cobalt. Believe it or not, my heart aches for each of you, for each soldier, alive or dead, for each ship, safe or sunk. I also tell myself that I must be strong. And I try to follow that principle.”

The marine didn’t answer. He nodded silently and turned away.

Cynosura looked at Sea Spirit, who was fidgeting nearby.

“Something urgent? Any news of our own?”

“Affirmative, Rear Admiral.” The ensign stepped closer and reported with a hoof to his temple, “The goal of pushing back the enemy has been achieved. The ships were driven to the neighboring island, where they were fired upon by artillery. During the salvos, one destroyer, one corvette, and three boats were eliminated. The rest engaged our surface forces. Currently, about half of the enemy ships have been sunk…” He hung his head a bit and even lowered his suddenly trembling leg. “And… our losses are generally the same. Ma’am… it’s just a massacre. Nopony has a chance to survive.”

“And do we?” Cynosura parried. “The cruiser is sinking, and all we can do is fire at them until the last shell, the last torpedo… Or until their next salvo finally kills us. All we can do is sell our lives for more. If you don’t want to, get in a lifeboat and sail to shore. Maybe you’ll make it. I won’t blame you.”

“No, ma’am,” the ensign shook his head. “I didn’t study to be a sailor so I could run away like a rat. I’ll accept whatever my fate is… if that’s Celestia’s will.”

Cynosura stepped up to him and placed a hoof on his chest.

“Thank you. I hope someone will remember us as heroes. Or at least not laugh at us… or curse us for the wasted flotilla.”

Sea Spirit even picked himself up a bit, as much as he could with his massive build.

“I hope so too, ma’am. But know what? What do we care what anyone else says? What matters is that we know what we’re fighting for.”

“Right,” the mare grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Go on, Ensign. You have proven your loyalty today.”

“Long live Equestria.”

The stallion saluted again, turned, and started down the stairs to the lower deck.

Soon, the ship slowly, as if reluctantly, changed course and glided across the water toward the Eclipse. The enemy cruiser had joined the battleship, also plowing the island’s rocky hill with its shells.

“Hey, look…” was all of a sudden heard.

Cynosura, like the others, raised her head.

Above the dark blue hulk, the smaller one, a familiar living cloud was rising into the air.

But it wasn’t as numerous as it had been during the fight with the Chiropterran dropship. Apparently, the Coltsmarine had learned a lesson from that story… but not completely.

“Ready!” the captain ordered, and finally Cynosura realized that there were other commanders besides herself.

She pulled her pistol from its holster with her teeth and accompanied Cobalt down to the lower deck, where they took cover in the wheelhouse. The captain and the first mate followed, also drawing their weapons just in case.

Through the restored panoramic window, they could see a swarm of pegasi and thestrals swirling overhead, literally enveloping the ship. For a while, they circled in the air at a fairly high altitude, as if trying on something – and then something began to fall from their moving, fluid cloud.

Except it wasn’t individual fighters launching a suicidal attack. It was something quite different.

The first explosion went off on the lower deck, scattering the sailors like skittles. The wheelhouse windows rattled, and the forward one was covered with a scattering of cracks from the steel shards that scratched it.

Then explosions began to ring out all around.

“Grenades!” muttered the captain angrily. He jumped to the dashboard and yelled into the loudspeaker, “All fire on the enemy! No bullets to spare! Shoot down as many of these winged bastards as possible!”

But everyone knew this already. As soon as the first wave of explosions died down, rifles crackled here and there. It was not easy to hit a moving, twisting target at such an altitude, but the density of the enemy fighters played against them this time.

One by one, the downed winged ponies began to fall to the ship’s deck or into the sea. This seemed to sober the others: after dropping a dozen more grenades, the Lunar Fleet landing party began to make their way back to the cruiser.

Meanwhile, the Sun Princess herself approached the Eclipse within striking distance, rounding the enemy ship from the opposite shore.

“Survivors to the artillery!” ordered the captain. “Fire from all barrels! Come on!”

The guns rumbled again. And apparently the enemy did not expect such a desperate resistance: the side of the Eclipse was lit up by a dozen flashes, and it became clearly visible that the cruiser was on fire.

But the Equestrians weren’t the only accurate shooters.

A powerful blow shook the wheelhouse, and everyone fell to the floor. The mare’s ears were ringing from the tremendous rumble, and the floor was littered with shards of broken windows.

Rising, Cynosura looked up and saw burning debris falling to the deck ahead.

“The bridge is gone,” the captain gasped as he also stood up and leaned against the dashboard. “The upper deck is probably gone as well… Sons of bitches… I wish they’d shot at Manehattan like that…”

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

Exactly in response to his words, the battleship fired at the shore again.

“If we’re lucky, ships from our northern bases will be doing this in a month or two,” Cynosura said, catching the stallion’s surprised look. “Well, forget it. So, what’s next? Should we fire another volley at them?”

“It won’t work,” the captain shook his head. “We’ve used up almost all our ammo. We won’t even have anything to blow up if they decide to capture us.”

“They don’t want us alive,” Cynosura snorted. “So we’re more likely to be killed by a battleship.” She became serious, “And together with the Eclipse, they’ll start slaughtering dragons…”

“Yeah, that’s a problem…” the captain said, looked at the helmspony, who was cautiously listening to their conversation, and ordered, “Turn around… while we can still move.”

The Princess, having already passed the almost stopped Eclipse, began to turn back.

Everyone in the room was silent. It was as if the battle had paused, and the uncertainty was the most painful of all. The only thing that mattered was how soon – and how exactly – they would die.

But as the ship began to reverse course, something in the mist caught Cynosura’s eye. A bright spot, almost blending in color with the sky, drifted out of the pale haze somewhere to the left.

“What the hay is that?” frowning, the captain muttered and raised the spyglass to his eye. A moment later he exclaimed in amazement, “Corvette… our corvette! I think it’s the Daredevil… Were they able to come to our aid after all?!”

“Yes, Captain,” Cynosura replied in a colorless tone, and the stallion in the white uniform turned to her. “But their help would cost them everything. Including lives.”

“Wait…” He looked through the spyglass again. “What are they up to? What kind of a gamble is this?! They’re–”

“It’s called heroism, Captain. They’re going to die so we can keep fighting.”

And indeed… Small compared to cruisers, and even smaller compared to the battleship, the corvette charged forward at full speed – straight at the Eclipse, which was burning in many places but still afloat.

The enemy cruiser opened fire. Clouds of smoke and flames rose all over the corvette, but the Daredevil was still moving forward. And she seemed to be accelerating.

The cloud of ponies rose above the ship again, but this time not to give the Equestrians a bloodbath. The winged warriors were fleeing the burning cruiser that was about to go down. And they didn’t seem to care about the unicorns and earth ponies left behind.

Desperate fire was opened on the corvette. Explosions tore through her sides one after another, destroying the deck and superstructures, burning and shredding the crew, but the Daredevil kept going. The inertia she had gained was enough to reach her destination before she would sink.

And to take the Eclipse with her as well.

Cynosura watched the corvette with bated breath. Or rather, her crumbling, flaming hull.

At full speed, the Daredevil’s bow smashed into the side of the enemy cruiser. Clots of fire and metal debris flew in all directions. The Eclipse swayed – but stayed on the water.

And then the corvette exploded.

For a moment, the two ships were hidden by a bright red ball of flame that lit up the waves, so bright that Cynosura involuntarily covered her eyes with her hoof. When she looked up again, the Daredevil was no longer visible. But there was a huge, oblong hole in the side of the Eclipse, into which water poured at an alarming rate, and the Lunar Fleet cruiser was sinking rapidly into the sea.

Cynosura didn’t notice as her hoof seemed to rise to her temple by itself. Standing on two active legs, she straightened and gave a final salute to the sailors who had sacrificed themselves for their shared, though now almost unattainable, victory.

Along with Cynosura, everyone else in the deckhouse saluted as well. The captain and the first mate, Cobalt, the two marine guards, even the helmsman. Each of them probably imagined what it would be like to go to certain death to save the others. In the name of an idea that had become a basic principle of existence? Would they be able to do the same – or prefer to save themselves and everything else?

And these questions were not rhetorical.

Soon the top mast of the ship disappeared into the abyss, and the waves were tinted with dark smoke from within. Nothing else indicated that an enormous ship had been here not so long ago.

However, there was still another ship, an even bigger one. It was still firing at the shore on the starboard side, while the artillery on the port side was already turning on the Sun Princess.

Cynosura’s throat went dry. There was nothing between the Equestrian cruiser and the Lunar Republic battleship. No other participants in the battle. Just the two of them – one on one. The slowly sinking, charred, blood-soaked cruiser – and the huge, intimidating, still undamaged battle machine.

And absolutely no chance of escape.

Well, then let’s try to die honorably.

“I suppose you see it all too,” she said without turning around, her tone as even as possible. “And you know what awaits us. Captain, what’s the condition of the ship?”

“Everything’s bad,” said the stallion in white, who had just received a report from an officer who had briefly entered the wheelhouse. “There’s a lot of water in the hold, the pumps can’t handle it. The engine is running at half power – it just can’t produce any more. Fortunately, the fuel spill has been contained, so there are no major fires, except for a few on deck…”

He sighed and shook his head.

“But it still doesn’t make sense. We have half an hour at most before the ship sinks. Take command, Rear Admiral. It’s up to you now.”

“No, Captain.” The stallion raised an eyebrow in bewilderment. “It’s not up to you and me, or even our orders. It’s up to every officer, every sailor, every technician on board to decide for themselves. I can’t order anypony to be a hero. But we can ask them to. Whoever wants to, get in the lifeboats and evacuate to shore. I won’t interfere in any way. But those who choose to stay… with them we shall meet our fate together.”

“Aye, ma’am,” the captain said slowly, repeating Cynosura's order over the loudspeaker. Then he looked at the helmspony, “You can go too. I’ll take it from here.”

“Th-thank you, sir…” the pony whispered and, hiding his running eyes, sprinted away from the wheelhouse.

The captain glanced at him and took the wheel himself.

“What a generation…” he muttered and began to turn the ship around. “Course one hundred and eighty-five. The target is the enemy battleship.”

His hoof rested on the throttle. “Full ahead.” And pushed it all the way forward.

From somewhere behind came an overwhelming hum. There was a vibration in the floor and walls, but the main thing had been accomplished.

The Sun Princess headed for the ram, picking up speed.

“Well, perhaps we’d better go to,” the captain said tiredly. He stepped away from the dashboard and opened the wheelhouse door. “No reason for us to hide here any longer.”

They stepped out onto the deck where the entire crew was already gathered. Many ponies stood together and watched in silence as the side of the huge steel monster grew right in front of them.

Some of the enemy cannons were aimed at the cruiser herself, while the rest were pointed somewhere off to the side. Turning her head in that direction, Cynosura saw a flock of lifeboats scurrying away from the battlefield. The mare’s eyes widened, and her teeth clenched.

No… Why them?! Just so long as… at least someone would survive…

BOOOOOOOOM!!!

A new volley – now not at the shore, but at themselves – frothed the water, obscuring the lifeboats from view. Many shells flew past, but one hit the cruiser’s bow. Cynosura shielded herself from the airwave and flying debris with her front hoof – and when she lifted her eyes again, she saw the black pupil of a nine-inch gun that seemed to be looking straight at her.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

This time the Night Child didn’t miss. A firestorm, in which none of those gathered could survive, swept across the cruiser’s deck.

But there was no need to.

In the next second, the cruiser’s sharp bow slammed into the dark blue armor of the battleship.

CRRRRRRRACK!!!

The force of the impact was so great that the solid metal simply buckled inward, and the Night Child collapsed to starboard. Columns of black smoke rose into the sky.

The battleship tilted even more. The Sun Princess’ engine continued to run, pushing the already dead ship forward, into the enemy flagship.

And then she finally exploded.

A cloud of flame engulfed the cruiser and spread to the battleship’s innards. Swaying on the waves, the bound ships were slowly sinking into the water.

The winged swarm rose again over the sea and moved toward the shore. The Coltsmarine personnel, unlike the Equestrians, abandoned their ships less by choice than by their race’s abilities.

But before they reached the shore, the pegasi and batponies began to fall one by one, like birds shot by a hunter.

The time gained by the Equestrian fleet’s fierce resistance was enough for the dragons to deploy their entire small army along the northern coast and the slopes of the Mountain.

A few lifeboats landed on the shore a short distance away. A couple dozen ponies climbed out onto the bare, sharp rocks and stood still as they watched the dragon troops, led by Princess Amber, who could be seen here and there, methodically knock out Nightmare Moon’s fighters.

Soon there would be nothing left of them.

The sun was rising over the ocean; bright white glints appeared on the surface of the water. And in the warm rays pouring down from the sky, the black smoke rose from the burning ships and the thick blood was staining the rocks of the main island.

…She was pushed into a room and then kicked in the butt, her face riding the smooth floor. Delta gritted her teeth at the pain in her bruised nose, knowing she shouldn’t make these ponies angry. She had experienced all their hospitality over the past few days.

The blindfold didn’t allow her to see what was around, and the strap on her wings kept her from fighting back. But she made no effort. She realized it was useless now.

Without a word, she was telekinetically lifted onto her hooves and sat down on an unexpectedly soft chair. A heavy steel bracelet clicked over her hoof, and Delta realized from the metal tinkling that she was chained to something, most likely a table leg. She stretched her hooves out in front of her – right, it was the table.

It’s so smooth that even disgusting. If I scratch it, they’ll charge me a hundred thousand, no less. Or maybe they’ll just fuck me. I could live with that anyway. Better once in the ass than five years or whatever it takes to give every free bit. But I won’t give a blow job – my mouth’s so dry and tongue’s like sandpaper…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door closing behind her. And then there was silence, broken only by her intermittent breathing.

Woah, are they really gone? And… nopony’s here anymore? What the fuck…?

Suddenly Delta found her forelegs free. After a moment’s hesitation, she carefully pulled off the blindfold.

The light immediately hit her eyes and the pegasus hissed through her teeth, covering herself with her hooves. Blinking and adjusting, she moved her legs away from her face and looked around the spacious room with interest.

Some kind of meeting room? Is there gonna be an interrogation or something…?

“Uh, hey…” she said hoarsely, and coughed before she could finish her sentence. “O-o-oh…”

She looked across the long table – and couldn’t believe what she saw. Opposite her, in the distance, stood a bottle of water. A full one. A liter. Clear. And surely so wet inside…

Delta breathed out loud. The wretched bottle hypnotized her, and she couldn’t look away. Her lips pressed together and relaxed, as if she imagined that she would grab the bottle, open the cap, and drink, drink, drink…

Forgetting that she was shackled, she sprang from her seat – but the sturdy chain and bandage on her wings stopped her. Delta’s belly hit the corner of the table and she fell to the floor with a groan.

An attempt to crawl up was also unsuccessful. The chain just tightened, holding the mare in place.

Delta turned and yanked at the chained leg. But the metal hoop remained firmly in place. The pegasus mare still tried to pull it off. To no avail.

Growling through clenched teeth, she leaned her back against the table leg and pressed down on the shackle with all her might. The shackle shifted just a millimeter, but at the same second, the pegasus screamed in pain as the shackle’s edge tore through her skin, spurting blood onto the marble floor.

Like a broken bush, Delta crumpled up and collapsed onto her belly. Tears streamed from the tips of her eyelashes, forming two microscopic puddles on the floor. Delta stared at them for a while – and then started licking them off with her dry tongue…

“Well, well, well…” came a high, haughty voice from the side, and the pegasus jumped up and banged her head on the edge of the table. “Let me guess, pretty thirsty, huh?”

Coughing again, Delta turned and froze. Even the air seemed to be stuck in her throat, making it impossible to inhale or exhale.

In front of her, in glittering bluish slippers, stood the one she least expected to see.

From the height of her considerable stature, Nightmare Moon herself was staring down at Delta.

The pegasus suddenly realized how pathetic she must look now, with her disheveled gray feathers, her unwashed and unkempt dark green mane, and the lingering smell of booze. But there was nowhere to go, so she just lifted her head and stared wide-eyed at the apparent mistress of the place.

The black alicorn let out a short, sharp laugh.

“Well, you’re welcome, little pony.” A turquoise light flashed, then the shackles on Delta’s leg disappeared, and the wound was healed in an instant. “If you’re thirsty, drink, I allow it.”

The pegasus stared at her leg, unable to believe what she saw. Then she glanced warily at the Night Princess, leapt across the table, grabbed the bottle, and landed on the floor with it like a battle trophy. She tore off the cap with her teeth and clung to the neck…

The next second, her eyes went wide, and she threw the bottle away, coughing and spitting. The clear liquid began to spill onto the floor, emitting a pungent, sour smell.

“You… kh… wanted to… kha… p-poison me?” Delta gasped.

“It’s just vinegar, you fool,” Nightmare Moon replied without a hint of amusement. The bottle and the puddle disappeared along with the smell, and out of nowhere a quarter-full glass appeared in front of the coughing and wheezing pegasus. “Here’s some water for you. Be grateful that I didn’t make you drink your own urine.”

“Th-thank you…” Delta mumbled and sniffed the contents of the glass.

But it didn’t smell of anything, so the pegasus took her first careful sip. Then, no longer hesitating, she drank it all down.

“M-may I have some more, p-please?”

“More? With pleasure. But you shall have to earn it.”

A folder of papers appeared in the air before Nightmare Moon.

“Well… Delta Velocity Evers, Delta Vee for short, right?”

“Y-yes, ma’am…”

“Call me Horsecoacher.” The alicorn wrinkled her nose in disdain. “Sit up already… you disgrace.”

Delta hastily climbed into the chair, shrinking into a lump.

Meanwhile, Nightmare paced the room, the folder floating in front of her in a magical light.

“Early interest in space and rockets… Technical University diploma with distinction… Lived in Las Pegasus, but moved to Hoofington with her husband and daughter when the spaceport was built… Stream Jet and Apogee, right?”

“Y-yes…” The pegasus’ gaze was filled with concern. “Where are they? I mean, are they okay?”

“Worked with her husband in EASA for four years, then suddenly left without explanation… Worked for private companies for a while, later settled down in a junkyard and did some minor repairs…” Nightmare Moon grimaced. “What a downfall… And for what – just to see less of her husband and daughter, who, by the way, loves her mother very much… unlike she herself…”

“Where are they?” Delta jumped to her hooves. “What have you done to them?!”

“Silence, mortal!”

This time, the magical field enveloped her completely. She fell to the ground, unable to move a muscle. The black alicorn slowly approached the pegasus and placed a hoof on her neck. The pleasant chill of the star-metal slipper touched her skin.

“Remember who you are talking to!” Nightmare Moon hissed and stepped back. “Otherwise, we’ll continue this conversation somewhere else, and I don’t think you’ll like it…”

The magic field disappeared, and Delta rolled onto her side, clutching her throat and breathing heavily.

“Don’t worry, they’re alive and well. For now,” Nightmare clarified. “And their situation depends entirely on whether we can come to an agreement. However, I was kind enough to let them deliver a message for you. Here, read it.”

A piece of paper appeared out of nowhere. The pegasus immediately grabbed it, unfolded and plunged into reading.

Writing. It was definitely their writing. Delta recognized it well: Jet’s crisp, angular letters and Apogee’s mouth-written scribbles. Tears came to her eyes again, but she wiped them away as she read the words that stabbed her heart.

Please, Delta, wherever you are and whatever happens to you now, stay calm and be reasonable. Do whatever they want, I won’t blame you. I just want you to live. Be strong – I know you can.
I’m sorry again for everything. I love you very much.
Jet

And just below was a little note from Apogee:

Mom, I’m scared. I’m worried about you. I hope you’re okay. They don’t tell us anything about you. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.
Yours, A.

No… I can’t… look at this anymore…

Closing her eyes, Delta turned away. The paper fell from her hooves and dissolved in another flash of magic.

“Why… why do you need me?” the pegasus asked through her gritted teeth. “What do you want from me?”

“Knowledge. It’s the most precious thing you have.” The alicorn looked at her prisoner scornfully once again. “Sit down. And look at what I’m going to show you.”

Delta settled back in her chair, and a thick stack of large sheets of paper materialized on the table in front of her.

“Tell me, little pony, what do you see in these drawings?” Nightmare asked.

“These… these…”

With her mouth agape, Delta flipped through the sheets – and her eyes seemed to devour every number, every line depicted on it.

Finally, she pulled herself away from the blueprints and spoke, “These are… rockets. With all the nodes and… Celestia, where did you get this…?”

Realizing she’d said something wrong, she clamped her mouth shut – but too late.

A powerful slap knocked her out of her chair again. Rubbing the bruise on her cheekbone, Delta looked up at the alicorn in fear.

“That name,” Nightmare said, leaning toward the pegasus, “is forbidden here! Don’t try my patience or I won’t be able to help your pathetic family! Do you understand?!”

Delta only nodded slowly and fearfully.

“War…” the alicorn said and walked to the window. “War never changes. To win it, it takes not only courage, bravery, or the number of fighters and the mindset of warlords – but what they all will use. Weapons, communications, or whatever else… Technologies, little pony. To win, we need technologies the enemy doesn’t have. And more importantly, ponies to bring them to life. I happen to have these blueprints; no other pony knows about them except you and me and one other mare. And what I want you to do is study all of them – and then build a rocket. Many rockets. Each with a different mission. I’ve been told it’s possible, and I have no reason not to trust it.”

She turned to Delta, who was back at the table.

“So, what do you say? Keep in mind that if you refuse, I’ll still be able to find someone else who will do what I want. But nopony will ever remember you or your family. But if you accept my offer, you’ll get an apartment, a job, your own research center…! And most importantly,” the alicorn raised her hoof, “your husband and daughter will be safe. How about that, my little pony? Is it worth it to finally get out of the junkyard…?”

“I…” Delta looked at her forelegs, then sighed and closed her eyes. “I’ll take it.”

“Good.” The full bottle appeared in front of her again. “I always reward my loyal allies. The main thing is not to disappoint me.”

Ignoring Nightmare’s words, Delta gulped down the water. Clear streams ran down the pegasus’ chin and neck.

As the black alicorn watched this, her lips curled into a grin.

Ponies… her gaze read. You are so easy to manipulate with your base desires. And the funny thing is that you’ll still think it’s good.

Pegasus, unicorn, earth pony, even thestral, you are all bugs under my hoof. But useful enough to help me conquer this world. All it takes is more ponies… and more time. Equestria will see the horrors of the eternal Night. And nothing, not even the greatest army, can stop me.

Because you are just bugs, nothing more.

The Center for Medical Research was a three-story yellow stone mansion surrounded by a grove of magically grown trees. Next to it were two rows of other buildings that had sprung up here after the war began: the Center for Magical Research, in the shape of a chess piece topped by a six-rayed star from Princess Twilight’s cutie mark; the glass obelisk of the Technology Council, with gears and a sword as its emblem; the headquarters of the S.M.I.L.E. agency, with its balloon-landing tower; the sharp, angular black stone column of the Wonderbolts’ Canterlot office; finally, the white, jewel-encrusted Equestria Education Association building. But compared to them, the C.M.R. definitely tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, not to emphasize the importance of its mission with its mere appearance.

Because of its squatness, the Center had a spacious roof – but no one usually went up to it. The large, white marble surface looked like a great place for a retreat… or a picnic, as the case might be.

But then the rough wooden door of the superstructure opened, and a pony came out onto the roof. The yellow pegasus with the long pink mane was an important part of the Center’s work, and she had no prohibitions here.

Fluttershy looked strangely calm as she walked slowly across the smooth, polished roof. Under her wing, the pegasus was clutching something in her feathers, but what it was could not yet be seen.

As she approached the edge, she looked up at the sky, which was covered in light clouds; the weather teams probably had some rain planned for tonight. But upon closer inspection, it was clear that the yellow pony was not looking up, but inward.

I wanted to help… To relieve suffering, to give life, to make it more beautiful and meaningful. To be kind. To do better! And I’ve even made some progress, but…

She sank down and let out a soft, barely audible sigh.

This war… It shouldn’t have happened. It just couldn’t! I don’t know what went wrong, why the ponies turned so… evil. All of them. Even the ones I knew well. Or… thought I did? No, this can’t be true! Tears welled up in Fluttershy’s eyes, and the pegasus shut her eyes tightly and turned away from the sky. They’re still my friends, even if they… said what they said. And did what they did.

Opening her eyes again, she unfolded her wing. Between the feathers were the scissors from the Center’s medical equipment, a small iron sharper than any bayonet.

I’m sorry, Rainbow, if my spell didn’t work quite the way you needed. But I was in favor of equal help for all ponies… even if they were fighting against us a moment ago. I hoped that if I showed them a little mercy, they would admit that they were wrong and that good should win… And even if I was wrong, I would continue to help them. Just because I think it’s the right thing to do. If it wasn’t so…

She sobbed, trembling from head to toe, and clenched the scissors between her teeth. As a pegasus, it was easier for her to wield them by putting fly feathers through the rings… but what she wanted to do couldn’t be done that way.

Clutching one half of the scissors in her teeth and holding the other half with her hoof, Fluttershy set to work.

One by one, the yellow feathers began to fall onto the smooth roof.

It didn’t hurt much: there were few nerve endings and no blood vessels in that part of the wing. Fluttershy knew her own anatomy, as well as that of many other animals, in great detail.

Then it was the other wing’s turn. The pile of tattered, clipped feathers on the edge of the roof doubled in size.

When it was done, the scissors fell from Fluttershy’s grasp and hit the marble with a thud.

Unable to fly, the pegasus stood on the roof and looked out over Canterlot. The majestic castle towered just across the street.

I’m sorry, Princess. I have failed to justify your trust. I hope you win this war… but without me. There is nothing I can do to help – neither you, nor myself… nor Equestria.

Suddenly, a door creaked open somewhere behind her, and Fluttershy turned.

A staff pony peered out of the doorway.

“Miss Fluttershy? Are you here? I’ve been looking for you for… Oh, Goddess…!”

She didn’t answer. Just smiled faintly and looked down at the pink pavement that surrounded the building.

I’m not a traitor, Rainbow. And I never was. But if you thought I was… then I’m sorry. For you and your values. Maybe one day you’ll come to your senses and realize what my motives were.

Ponies were running at her with all their hooves. Calling for her to stop and think again… Promising to help in any way they could…

But it was too late for her. And how could she help when the whole world, all the ideals she’d shared, had turned out to be nothing, a fiction that had no place in the cruel reality full of violence and suffering? The reality in which she could no longer be herself and carry to the other ponies what they, as it turned out, didn’t need.

Farewell. May Celestia judge you all… and Luna, if… she comes back. Just… try to do better. Be kind. And then there will be harmony… and friendship again. Friendship among all ponies and other creatures. Friendship that’s now being torn to shreds.

I can’t watch this. It’s beyond me. Forgive me if you can. And… farewell. I hope that all I’ve done will not go to waste in the future.

She took a step. Just one – but it was enough to send the pegasus into her final flight.

A flight that would have no soft landing.

Fluttershy had never flown so fast. Except when she was pulling a balloon in pursuit of Rainbow, discolored by Discord.

The friend who called her a traitor to Equestria.

Well, she won’t betray anyone else. But the ponies will have to help themselves.

And let the armies of the two sisters continue to fight to win…

But kindness and good have already lost this battle.

Equestria Daily, March 1, 1008.

…In southern Zebrica, the armed conflict between the state of the Qaylidi Dervishes (Diamond Dogs) and the Thundarian Magocracy (Yetis) has ended with the signing of a peace treaty in the city of Chigachirud. The parties have agreed to return all captured prisoners to each other, and the Dervishes will receive over a hundred pieces of equipment…

*

Le Petit Griffon, March 9.

…In Pridea, the revolutionary army of the Aquielian Republic has overthrown the tyrannical monarchist regime of Baron Dennis Discret. The region’s capital has been taken, and the streets are filled with pro-Republican marches. Long live free Aquelia! Long live the revolution!

*

Canterlot Times, March 24.

The assault on Whinnyapolis, the Night Cultists’ main stronghold in northern Equestria, which began on February 24th, continues. The brave soldiers of the Harmonic Army, supported by the Steel Horseshoes PMC and the Legion volunteer force commanded by Scrappy Rug the pegasus, who was sentenced to death for mercenarism in Stalliongrad, are fighting for every street. Cultists, mostly of the Batpony race, are holding civilian hostages and threatening to blow up apartment buildings. However, Equestrian forces refuse to be provoked and continue to liberate the city.

As a reminder, yesterday the clearing of the Left Bank was completed. Most of the cultists have been trapped at the Whinnyapolis Steel Company plant (WSC, or Whinnysteel for short), with all avenues of retreat blocked. The town hall was liberated this morning. But the snipers on the rooftops are shooting at civilians, and that is causing some trouble. But the united ranks of our troops are acting decisively and skillfully, and we believe that the enemy’s stronghold will soon be eliminated…

*

Shams Al Sahraa, April 6.

…The armed forces of the Arabian Republic under the command of the blessed leader Yazid Al Hudhail in a bloody battle near Mareakech defeated the dastardly villains of the Arabian Popular Front and put an end to more than a year of civil war. Zahra Al Malik, who led the enemy camp, managed to escape, most likely to the northern Zebrica. However, revolutionary sentiment is still widespread among the population, so the danger of renewed fighting remains…

*

Equestria Nightly, April 7.

…A trade treaty with Skyfall has been signed. Lunar Chancellery analysts estimate that this will solve the cities’ food supply problems and set the stage for increased munitions production. The president of the Four Stars Transportation Company has already made a glowing speech in support of the decision…

Subponies, led by the criminal celestia (the name is lowercased on purpose), must be defeated…

*

Canterlot Times, April 10.

…It has come to light of the tremendous naval battle that has recently taken place near the Dragon Isles. A part of the Equestrian Fleet commanded by Rear Admiral Cynosura, which had relocated from Baltimare to the Spa Islands after the Lunar Revolution, fought an unequal battle with the Coltsmarine Expeditionary Force, which included the battleship Night Child. During the battle, both fleets were completely destroyed; the cruiser Sun Princess made a ram and sank with herself and the enemy battleship. A single gunboat returned to base, picking up about fifteen ponies who had managed to evacuate from the sunken cruiser.

The news of Cynosura’s heroic death came as a shock. An eighteen-gun salute was fired in Canterlot in honor of the young pony’s feat (see “Obituaries” on page 18 for more on her biography). Admiral Dust Hoover of the Vanhoover Commune, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and her husband Prince Consort Shining Armor of the Crystal Empire, as well as the new General Secretary of Severyana, Vasiliy Wheatin, and Dragon Princess Amber, sent their condolences. Cynosura is awarded the Equestrian Pink Heart of Courage post mortem. She is also given the rank of Admiral. The issue of renaming a street in her honor is under consideration…

*

Severyanskaya Pravda, April 12.

…At today’s plenary session of the Central Committee of the S.C.P. a draft version of the text of the new national anthem was presented. It is expected to be finally approved no later than May 27.

[Verse 1]
United forever in friendship and labour,
Our mighty Republic will ever endure.
The great Severyana will live through the ages,
The dream of the ponies their fortress secure.

[Chorus]
Long live our Homeland strong and proof,
Built by the ponies’ mighty hoof.
Long live our people, united and free!
Strong in our friendship tried by fire.
Long may our crimson flag inspire,
Shining in glory for ponies to see!

[Verse 2]
Through days dark and rough where Steel Stallion lead us
Our eyes saw the bright sun of freedom above,
And our mighty leader with faith in the people,
Inspired us to build up the land that we love.

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
We fought for the future, destroyed the invaders,
And brought to our Homeland the laurels of fame.
Our glory will live in the memory of nations
And all generations will honor her name!

[Chorus]

*

Equestria Daily, April 16.

…a terrible event has occurred. The body of Fluttershy, a pegasus who was developing healing spells, was found near the Center for Medical Research building on Canterlot’s Royal Alley. The cause of death appears to be a fall from the roof. Details of the incident are still under investigation…

…the beginning of a new confrontation in Eastern Zebrica. The Militarchy of Lan Kir, which broke away from the Realm of Kiria after the decree of the Silence in 903 ALB, has declared war on Sen Kinh. The reasons are still unknown, but it can be assumed that it is an attempt to forcibly integrate the three provinces of the former Zaikiria (Lan Kir, Sen Kinh, and Khamrin) into one country to counter Kiria’s growing influence on the continent…

…Also, the following armed conflicts are ongoing currently:

since September 6, 1005 – the Third Kompelian War between the Roaman Kaiserate and the Talonsvaal Republic (Zebrica);

since January 1, 1007 – the War of the Storm King’s Legacy: Icepaw Provisional Directorate vs. the Gyzwindid Realm, Thundarian, and Stormland Regency (Zebrica);

since May 13, 1007 – the Longsword Civil War, Longsword vs. Rosewood (Griffonia);

since November 8, 1007 – the Equestrian Civil War (Equus);

since November 14, 1007 – Macigena vs. Zar-Hay (Zebrica);

since November 29, 1007 – Alvani vs. Timbucktoo (Zebrica);

since December 18, 1007 – Chiropterra vs. Tobuck and Warzena (Zebrica);

since January 3, 1008 – Hayzeb Federation vs. Gelon-Zornu (Zebrica);

since January 28, 1008 – Aoranda vs. Ugabi (Zebrica).

Such ponitical tensions can only be worrisome.
It seems as if the whole world is at war right now.

[1] New Ayakachtli is the capital of Chiropterra, a city populated by approximately 1.3 million ponies and zebras.
Nightmare Moon is formally the ruler, but her will is carried out by Her Imperial Majesty’s Legionary Council, consisting of six ponies, each at the head of their own Legion, a large paramilitary clan of descendants of refugees from Equestria. Zebras are used as a labor force under the control of the Native Affairs Commission.
Emerald Light is the head of the Legionary Department of Medical Research, a group of scientists and engineers who perform medical and biological experiments on zebra laborers or criminals from the Legions.

[2] “Caramel Sweet” in Severyan language.

[3] Narodnyy komissariat vnutrennikh del – “People’s Commissariat of Internal Affairs” in Severyan; the ministry dealing with crime and security issues.

Chapter Seven. Jupiter to Aphelion

March – April 1008

“W… what?” asked Mellow.

“Wouldn’t you be interested in going back to Manehattan,” Tempest repeated, “to work for our victory there?”

“You mean as your agent?” The stallion narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you think that’s weird, after I managed to escape that incarnation of Horswell’s book ‘1084’ by pure chance? And now you’re suggesting I go back there?!”

“Private Mellow…” Aurora snapped at him. “Stand down!”

Greg himself hadn’t expected to talk to the general of the Equestrian Army so easily. I guess the point is that I’m basically a civilian who was shoved into a military uniform and thrown to the front, he thought. And even here, I’m just part of the honor guard. Because… well, really, who in their right mind would attack the Empire right now? Unless, Celestia forbid, Chrysalis who’d lost her mind… or worse, Sombra who’d come back from oblivion… but that’s not gonna happen today, is it?

Tempest Shadow got up from the table and walked to the window.

“We still don’t know the plans of Nightmare Moon and her criminal regime,” she said, looking out at the sprawling Crystal City, “neither on the battlefield nor on the local populations in the lands they seek to take over. And while intelligence can help with the former, the latter remains a mystery. And that’s why we need our own pony in Manehattan. Otherwise, we’ll still be in the dark about what we’re saving Equestria from. It would also be nice to know about the development of weapons for the Lunar Army…”

“So send one of your trained ponies!” Greg exclaimed. “Why do you need me?!”

“Five!” Tempest said sharply as she turned, and Mellow swallowed as he met her gaze with a look of cold anger. “Five of our agents died during the infiltration before they could even begin their work! Each of them had undergone specialized training, but each time they failed. They were all from Manehattan, but had moved to Canterlot, Ponyville or other Equestrian cities before the war. Something must have tipped them off. I think the problem was that they weren’t there when it all blew up. They needed time to figure things out… and that’s what ruined them. Which means we need someone who doesn’t have to do any recon. Someone who already knows what’s going on and can get right to work.”

“But… I’m not a spy,” Greg muttered. “I’m just an ordinary clerk from the transport company… Why do you want to send me?”

“Because you’ve been in their horseshoes,” Tempest replied, sitting back down across the table from him. “You know how they think and what to expect from them. You know what it’s like to pretend. ‘They’ are those who serve the Lunar Republic, willingly or by force. Our former fellow citizens against whom we are now forced to fight.” The general looked at the soldier. “So, what’s your answer, Greg Mellow?”

The gray pony looked back. His head was spinning with what he really thought of this adventure.

“With all due respect…” he began in a suddenly hoarse voice and coughed. He cleared his throat and tried again, “With all due respect, General… I refuse. I simply won’t be able to stay in the city where I’d lived all my life before the war and where’s no freedom now. I’m sorry, but I’d rather be part of those who will come there with our victory.”

“I could order you to,” Tempest said. “But I won’t. Otherwise, you’ll start sabotaging the orders. Well, I respect your choice, Private Mellow. But I hope you’ll change your mind. Because there’s no one else for this job. When you’re in Canterlot, pay a visit to the hospital. Look at those who’ve been affected by this war. And every one of them has a family that’s had a hard time, too… And the sooner we destroy the roots of evil, the fewer ponies will have to bear the burden of this conflict.”

A hoof in a shiny black slipper slid some paper toward Greg.

“Meanwhile, this. A non-disclosure agreement. Everything you’ve just heard is not to leave this office. Otherwise,” Tempest’s eyes narrowed, “we’ll have to deal with you under the laws of wartime.”

After Greg and Aurora had signed, the general rose again and the two stood up with her.

“I won’t keep you. Go back to your quarters. Tomorrow, we leave for Canterlot, after which you will return to your unit. And if you change your mind,” she glanced at Greg, “I’ll be at General Headquarters. Three blocks from the castle, Unicorn Street, house fourteen. Ask for me and they’ll let you in. That’s all. You may go. Keep serving Equestria.”

As the door closed behind them and the guardspony waiting outside escorted them down the corridor, Aurora shook her head. “I can’t believe…”

“Believe what?” Greg snorted. “That we just talked, pony to pony? Or that I said no?”

“Both. Greg, you—”

“Lieutenant,” Mellow turned to her, “judge for yourself. The meeting was organized to be off the record, so it was obviously unofficial. And General Shadow wasn’t acting like a commander, she was just a pony who needed my help for some reason. But alas, she chose the wrong person to do it for her.”

“And yet…” Aurora hesitated. “Why did you refuse?”

“I already told you.” The stallion sighed. “Because I was there. And I know what it’s like to live in a city infested with this lunar plague, if you’re not as fucked up as almost everyone else around you. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want to be myself. That’s why I came to you in the first place. And…” he paused, “I didn’t have any friends there… I mean, in Manehattan. Already in prison I met two guys… and I was sent to the front with them. But one of them was a staunch Luna’s supporter… and the other was killed when he tried to surrender at Canterlot. Killed by a batpony from our squad. I don’t want either of their fates for myself. And I don’t even know which one is more terrible.”

“But you weren’t afraid,” the white pony said.

“No. At least not at the suggestion. But rather at the thought that I might actually turn into a pony whose role I would play.”

“Well…”

They walked on in silence. Each was thinking about their own but would probably give a lot to know the thoughts of the other.

Canterlot’s buildings were catching his eye, and he couldn’t help but stare at them more and more.

Decorated with rare and expensive stone, marble and mica mosaics, topped with ornate turrets and gazing out with narrow, elaborate windows, the houses lined up in a procession like aristoponies on their way to a ball at the Princess’ castle.

Greg swiveled his head in every direction, trying not to miss a single detail that might have caught his eye. From time to time, he had to look down at the street to avoid a pompous carriage or a military truck with the sun emblem.

Manehattan was different. There, the buildings were simple concrete boxes to be lived in, not admired; or glassy needles pointing skyward, staring out at the metropolis like cold sentinels. But there were some exceptions – like the opera house…

Greg sighed heavily, remembering that.

…the opera house where forty-two ponies had been burned alive one November night.

Buildings like that – buildings that stood out from the mass, with stories of their own – were either destroyed in a fit of blind rage or draped in banners and turned into strongholds of the new government. Like the former Crystal Empire consulate, which became the Lunar Chancellery after the diplomatic mission was shot.

Greg exhaled through his teeth and shook his head.

Stop thinking about it. Manehattan is in the past. As long as it’s the same there, I won’t go back.

Catching the questioning looks of the passersby, the gray pony turned away and quickened his pace. The mood was irrevocably ruined.

…When they returned to Canterlot after the summit, through the same portal that had brought them to the Empire, Aurora, with Princess Celestia’s personal permission, had given each of them two days’ leave. The money they’d received from the treasury was enough for an average hotel, and there was even enough left over for a few visits to cafes, but Greg didn’t feel comfortable throwing it away. After all, every wasted coin was someone’s bullet or grenade fuse not delivered on time. Little things that could bring the end of the war one day closer – or give the enemy a chance to break through.

Oh shit, not again… Why can’t I get this damn war out of my mind?! Why can’t I stop thinking about it?! Mellow sighed. Probably ‘cause I don’t have a home to come to after work, look out the window at the sunset, and tell myself that another day of this fucking life has passed. All I’ve got so far is either a dugout at the front or the barracks at Cliffmark. A hotel room on a rare vacation in Canterlot. And how nice it would be… no, no, to Discord with Manehattan! Screw it… screw it.

What’s wrong with me? I just wanted to walk around and look at the buildings… Wait, what’s that?

Greg stopped and listened.

There was soft music coming from somewhere nearby, as if someone was playing strings. Looking around, the stallion noticed that he was standing next to a large white building with a dozen medical carriages lined up outside, and a red cross emblem with Celestia’s sun above the entrance.

Yeah, must be the military hospital Tempest Shadow told me to go to.

Attracted by the music, Greg headed for the building.

The soldiers guarding the entrance gave him indifferent glances but did not stop him. They probably thought the gray pony in his carefully cleaned and ironed field uniform was just visiting some of his comrades.

Greg didn’t dissuade them. After all, I didn’t come here to carry out a terrorist attack…

The nurse at the emergency room post paid no attention to the stallion. Looking through the papers, she was shaking her head and humming softly to herself, repeating the tune not very skillfully.

Trying not to make any noise, Greg brushed past her and walked down the hallway.

The music was getting closer. Its sounds, slender and harmonious, but without a hint of classical dreariness, stirred his ears, serving as a kind of beacon to which Greg moved like a moth in the semi-darkness of the corridor.

At last, the gray pony entered the spacious recreation room – and stopped, leaning sideways against the corner.

The large room was filled with other ponies. Some were dressed in robes, others in military uniforms, with bandaged heads or legs, or in wheelchairs. Almost the entire department must have been gathered here.

And they were all listening to the mint green unicorn playing on a makeshift stage of crates in front of them. In the yellow field of telekinesis, she held a lyre in front of her, and with her eyes closed, she played the strings with her magic.

The melody she was playing wasn’t very complicated, but Greg suddenly realized that he couldn’t just walk away. Somehow the lyre’s tinkling caught his attention, and he could not take his eyes off the unicorn and her instrument.

In half a minute, the cheerful, lively melody had pushed the dark thoughts of war to the back of his mind, instilling confidence instead of anxiety and bliss instead of despondency. Greg even found he could barely keep from stomping to the music’s beat.

Finally, the melody climbed up and ended on a high note. Everyone cheered and whistled, and Greg also tapped his hooves on the floor with a smile.

The unicorn nodded, accepting the applause, and waited for the noise to die down before she spoke, “…And I would like to end the main part of the performance with a new composition, which I have named ‘Time.’[1] I hope you will enjoy it. Perhaps you will remember what you want to return to, revive in your memory something precious. Or maybe you will think of something important that you would like to realize but have not yet understood. And I think the melody you are about to hear will be just right.”

There was silence as the mare prepared to perform. Nopony dared not make a sound, lest it disturb her. Greg also froze in anticipation, wondering what he would hear.

The lyre made the first sound. Then another. Then one more and more.

Four notes formed a simple motif. So simple that it was unbelievable. But at the same time, that very introduction touched something in Greg’s heart.

The four notes repeated, but the second was deliberately dissonant.

The unicorn took a deep breath and continued to play.

Her soft melody of just a few notes, born from the strings of her lyre, filled the recreation room like the scent of perfume from an open vial. The music was quiet, but it knocked as if directly at the soul.

Greg swallowed. He suddenly imagined himself as a foal playing on the playground behind the house in Manehattan. His mom was sitting on a bench nearby, talking to the other mares, his dad was at work in the office and would be back in the evening. From down the street he could hear the hoofsteps of ponies scurrying along the sidewalks and the wheels of passing carriages whirring.

The sun was shining brightly from the cloudless summer sky, and birds were singing from the trees planted near the brick high-rise…

It was a time when the future seemed bright and serene. It was a time when Stalliongrad hadn’t even seceded yet, when Nightmare Moon hadn’t returned, and the Crystal Empire was still in a thousand-year oblivion. When the most serious thing was the accident of three wagons on Bridleway, when all it took to hide from all fears was a blanket over the head.

But most importantly, it was home.

A home that Greg clung to even after the war began, until it was unceremoniously snatched away from him.

The lyre’s melody was joined by an undertone; then the unicorn returned to the main theme, but now it was louder, and the strings creaked sharply with aggressive plucking. Sweat broke out on the mint-green pony’s forehead, but she squeezed her eyes shut and kept playing, not even stopping to catch her breath.

Suddenly, Greg realized that he could barely breathe because of the lump in his throat and something wet was running down his cheek.

What on Equus… he thought. I was so blind… and overconfident. I said I wanted to go home, but I refused to fight for it, reassuring myself that I could still make it… But I also may not be able to. On the contrary, by my own inaction, I would only allow the lunar dictatorship to strengthen its criminal power in the place where I was born. And will I even be worthy of returning there when it’s over, knowing that I didn’t do my best? The question, as they say, is rhetorical.

The melody, which had reached its climax, was suddenly cut off.

The unicorn played again, one after the other, the same four notes with which she had begun her performance. Then, just as slowly, the next four, and then she let go of the strings, letting them ring until they fell silent.

Only then did she sigh and open her eyes, looking around at the audience.

At first quiet, then louder and louder came the stomping of applause. Many were crying, but that didn’t stop them from whistling and clapping.

The unicorn bowed slightly and looked at everyone with a smile.

“And now,” she exclaimed with deliberate cheerfulness, as if to soften the impact of the piece she had just performed, “does anypony want an encore?”

The crowd clamored to offer their options.

Greg turned silently and walked away.

Thank you, whoever you are, he thought as he walked back down the hall. For opening my eyes and allowing me to see everything. I’ve been running away from fate for so long that I almost ran away from myself. What would I have become? I don’t even want to imagine.

What is to be, will be.

General Tempest, I’m ready.

“I hope you realize there’s no turning back,” Tempest Shadow said, rummaging through her desk drawer. “And that from now until the end of your mission, you will report to me and the Intelligence Office. And that end may not come for a very long time… if, of course, you live to see it.”

“I understand,” Greg replied dully, sitting across from her. “I told you; I’ve changed my mind. I realize the responsibility… and I want to be useful.”

It was just the two of them in Tempest’s office in the Equestrian General Headquarters building. Greg had gone there right after the concert he had overheard, so he wouldn’t have to think about the right thing to do. To plunge headlong into another maelstrom and change his life again.

Because his conscience wouldn’t let him stay away.

“Then sign this.” A new non-disclosure form was placed on the table. “You know that secrecy has never been abolished. And…” the general squinted at the private, “you swore an oath to Equestria, didn’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Greg nodded as he signed the paper. “The day after the operation in the camp…”

Aurora had made quite a spectacle of it then. Standing in front of the platoon in an unfamiliar Equestrian uniform in the cold wind, he read from a piece of paper on a makeshift lectern made of a wooden stand and an aluminum tray, the text of the Harmonic Army Oath written in neat white pony’s script.

I, Greg Steelson Mellow, do solemnly swear allegiance to Equestria. I swear to obey unconditionally the will of the Princess, to strictly follow the requirements of military regulations, orders of commanders and superiors. I swear to fulfill my military duties honorably, to defend the freedom and independence of Equestria, and to uphold peace among all ponies.

“Well, then honor and duty won’t be empty words for you,” Tempest said, pulling several folders out of a drawer and pushing them aside. “First, I want to give you an outline of what a scout’s job is. You will obey all orders from the center, which will come through covert channels. Any unauthorized action or carelessness can get you killed. You must never forget that you are in the enemy camp, but you cannot show it. You must play your role in such a way that no one suspects you of being a spy. Act like one of them. Even at night. Even in your sleep. You must learn to think like one of them. But at the same time, remain a warrior of Equestria.

“If they tell you to shoot a pregnant mare, you’ll smile, say you’ll do it in a secluded place, fire a shot in the air, and let her go.

“If they tell you to rape a foal, you’ll say you don’t like doing such things.

“If they tell you to burn a dozen ponies alive, you’ll joke that it’s not rational to use fuel that way in wartime.

“Apart from that, you will obey the system. And the important thing is that it doesn’t take you over completely. Because it’s one thing to obey the regime and quite another to serve as its driving force, don’t you agree?”

“You mean what?” Greg frowned.

“Power, Mellow, power. It corrupts, and the stronger it is, the more it corrupts. Did you really think we’d throw you in there as a simple LD stallion?” Tempest grinned.

Greg lowered his gaze.

Really, he hadn’t thought of that. He’d never had to play the part of someone of high rank before, and the gray pony wasn’t sure if he could do it.

A dark cherry hoof in a black slipper pushed the first file over to Greg, and the stallion untied the straps and opened the thick folder. The photo on the first page showed a light gray, almost white earth pony with a blue mane and the same brown eyes as Mellow’s; young enough, but with an expression of contempt for the world so familiar to Greg from his former office bosses. Next to him was what appeared to be a cutie mark drawing – a magnifier and a notepad, not much different from Mellow’s own pen and scroll.

This unknown officer wore a black tunic with stylized letters LD and insignia shaped like a comet on the collar and two four-pointed stars on the epaulettes. And it looked like he wasn’t just a simple servant.

“Meet Ian Danfel, Standartenhoofer of the Lunar Division… that’s something like a colonel. A member of the Sixth Department of the Lunar Chancellery, which deals with foreign intelligence. Captured by us north of Canterlot but reported missing by the enemy. He says he was at the front for inspection, but in fact he was there to meet personally with agents who had received data from informants on our side. Of course, we will crack this network and feed it with profitable lies, but Danfel himself will be imprisoned for now. So his disguise is an ideal option to infiltrate into the backstage of the Lunar Republic.”

Greg started to read the text of the dossier. But at the first lines he coughed meaningfully and looked at Tempest.

“A wife? And two foals? So I’d have to play his role not only at work, but at home as well?!”

“What did you expect?” the general snorted. “You can’t just take a pony out of society and put him back in with only a few of his social connections restored. We had to use a whole arsenal of techniques to get as much as we could out of Danfel about his tastes, habits, attitudes toward other ponies, and personality. Yes, he may seem like a rather nasty guy, but he’s hardly such a complex character that it would be impossible to faithfully recreate his image…”

“Yeah, but still… Buck, are you crazy!” Greg tapped his hoof on one of the paragraphs. “Violent, irritable, beats his wife and children... And you’re telling me to do the same thing to avoid suspicion?!” The gray pony frowned. “Favorite position in se… What?! What’s that got to do with—”

“A lot,” Tempest said icily. “From the moment of infiltration, you will be him. Everywhere. Absolutely.”

“But—”

Tempest Shadow slammed her hoof down on the table and leaned forward, towering over Greg. Her eyes flashed like two turquoise icebergs.

“If necessary,” she hissed, poking a hoof into his chest, “you will fuck his wife and kick his foals’ asses. If necessary, you will send hundreds of ponies to their deaths, make a moonlight and shout ‘Praise the Moon!’ at the top of your lungs. No matter what, you will do what circumstances demand. And I don’t care what excuses you make for it.”

She pulled away and looked down at Mellow.

“But like I said, you have to be yourself on the inside. Don’t let someone else’s personality override your own. Every time, you’ll have a choice of how to act. And it’s up to you to decide what comes out of it and what you become. Keep in mind that all your actions will be investigated, and you’ll be held accountable for any crime, even if it was committed under duress. If, again, you live to see it.”

“Nice perspective,” Greg muttered to himself and put the folder aside. “Well, at least it was fair. I’ll… think about what I’m doing. And try to do better. If you’re not gonna bring him back, then at least let Danfel, as he’s known, be a little different while the war goes on.”

“It’s up to you,” Tempest said and placed the rest of the folders in front of her. “We’ll be interested in any information you can provide. Especially the development of new weapons and the plans and activities of the top brass. What, how, when, where, and most importantly – why they are doing it.”

The next file slid across the table to the gray stallion.

Inside was a photo of a white pony with a blonde mane and blue eyes. On her collar were three comets surrounded by a crescent moon. She was smiling as she lifted her right hoof, and her cutie mark was some kind of weird, curved cross over a pink heart.

“Aryanne Wagner, LD Gruppenhoofer, the head Gestapony. She is basically the second power there after Nightmare Moon. Before the war, she was a fierce activist, picketing with slogans like ‘Equestria for ponies only!’ and ‘Let’s keep the nation pure!’ As a result, she was imprisoned for extremism on Riders Island in Bucklyn but was later amnestied by the Horsecoacher’s decree. Don’t look at her smile – it was on Aryanne’s orders that all the mayhem you’ve experienced on your own skin was arranged. You must keep a close eye on her – but be extremely careful. And be prepared that she’s watching you too.”

“What does her cutie mark mean?” Greg asked. “I don’t know that symbol…”

“Oh, believe me, the best minds in Equestria have tried to figure it out (I even heard Twilight Sparkle herself), but to no avail. Which makes this pony all the more dangerous because we don’t even know what to expect from her.”

The next folder was noticeably thinner, and inside was a black and white picture of some thestral.

“Night Sky, head of the Sixth Department of the Chancellery. Your future direct superior. There wasn’t much to know about him, since even Danfel didn’t like to talk to him much. Smart, decisive, scheming, and that’s something you can try to exploit.”

The pony in the next file was the one Mellow knew. Well, he’d heard her cello on the radio. After the Lunar Revolution and before her arrest, almost every day.

“Octavia Melody. Minister of Culture, Science, and Education, and honorary LD Standartenhoofer. In the early days of the NLR, she part-time controlled the media until the task was given to Rarity Modens. Octavia’s play is said to be a favorite of Nightmare Moon herself, so this pony has a special place in the system. In the Lunar Chancellery, she oversees Section C of the Third Department, which deals with cultural affairs. Octavia has a great influence on ponies’ minds, and she uses it to the fullest. And also from her strings stretch to an organization called Lunenerbe, about the activities of which we know almost nothing. And that’s what you’re going to have to find out.”

The last folder contained data on a light orange unicorn with a red and yellow mane. And her mark in the form of a two-colored sun seemed to Greg almost more sinister than the obscure symbol on Aryanne’s flank.

“Sunset Shimmer, commander of the Equermacht forces. Surprisingly, neither we nor Danfel know much about her. Studied at the Canterlot School for Gifted Unicorns, even apprenticed to Celestia for a while…” Tempest shook her head. “And then all traces of this Sunset are lost. It’s confirmed that she lived in Ponyville for a while about three years ago… Then she showed up last November as a general of the Lunar Army’s Land Forces! I mean, can you believe it, huh…?”

The dark cherry pony sighed.

“Anyway, I think she’s the most dangerous one to keep an eye on. It’s possible that Sunset has a game of her own that makes Night Sky’s combinations pale.” Tempest tapped her hoof on the table thoughtfully. “What could she offer this mare from the Moon, for which she (and no one else) had brought this Shimmer to the very top…? Anyway, try to find out everything you can.”

“And I have to learn it all?” Greg squinted at the stack of folders in front of him. “I don’t mind, but… how much time do I have?”

“A week,” Tempest said. “Ideally three or four days. In that time, the details of the drop operation will be finalized. We need to get Danfel back before his absence becomes suspicious. His file contains, among other things, your future legend.”

She stood up and walked around the office.

“You are not to take anything out of here; you will study the material in my presence. For all this information – do you hear me, Mellow? – five of our agents and several dozen support personnel have lost their lives. In fact, our network in Manehattan is now decapitated.” The general stopped and pointed a hoof at Greg. “And the new resident will be you. Otherwise, we’ll be biting our elbows, unable to do anything against our opponents. Okay?”

And then Greg did something he never expected to do.

Slowly pushing aside the stack of files, he got up from the table and looked into Tempest Shadow’s eyes. “I understood. I swear I won’t let you down.” Then he raised a hoof to his temple. “Long live Equestria.”

An uneasy dawn broke over the front line. From far away came the eternal cannonade, like the vague rolling thunder.

In a wooded area near a shallow ravine, two ponies in the gray uniforms of the Equermacht walked among the bushes. Their rifles were slung over their backs, and their bayonets dangled in sheaths from their belts.

Soft voices came through the rustling of the spring foliage.

“So quiet here… Before, I remember, they used to beat harder here…”

“Sure, that’s when the Equestrians stood right here. And now, Discord knows why, they suddenly withdrew their troops...”

“Why aren’t we advancin’ then?”

“You’re outta your mind, boy? Wanna die in the first wave? And if they bring in a special unit – ‘Marauders’ or whatever they’re called… then go hang yourself!”

“Wait… d’ya hear that?”

The soldiers stopped and pricked up their ears. Then one of them silently pointed toward the ravine.

Judging by the crackling of the branches, whoever was there wasn’t even thinking of hiding.

With their weapons at the ready, they both peered into the cool spring twilight. The fact that they were also in plain sight at this moment seemed not to occur to them.

Soon, the dark silhouette of a pony emerged from the thicket on the slope. Staggering and stumbling, he approached the sentries in uneven zigzags. He didn’t even see them, looking first at his own hooves.

“Halt! Who’s comin’?!” shouted one of the soldiers, pointing his rifle at the intruder.

“Will shoot!” added the second.

The unknown pony stopped and raised his head. As he came closer, they could see that he wore a tattered black uniform and a battered helmet with a crescent moon on it, just like each of the sentries.

“He’s an LD!” muttered one of the soldiers. “What’s he doin’ here?”

“Or maybe he’s that important cock that got lost somewhere nearby the other day?” suggested another and called out, “Hey, what’s your name? Give us your name and rank so we know what to call ya…!”

Instead of answering, the black-clad stallion let out a low grunt and slumped to the side, disappearing back into the thicket on the slope of the ravine.

“Oh, Discord!” cursed the first sentry, and they both ran to where the unknown figure had fallen.

He had rolled down not too far, his trenchcoat snagged on a root sticking out of the ground. The gray pony’s eyes were open, his face and uniform smeared with dirt, and his helmet had a distinct dent on top.

“Hey, you alive there?” asked the second soldier, rummaging through the pockets of the black tunic and pulling out the same dirty, crumpled and torn ID card. “Who we got here? Ian Danfel, Standra… Stardant… I can’t even say it! Hey, bro, you got a concussion, right? Oh, that must be the big shot we lost! C’mon, drag him! We might even get the Lunar Cross! Aw, gee, you heavy dude…”

“Tha… thank…” exhaled the rescued standartenhoofer and lost his senses.

Celestia have mercy, it’s been so long since I was here… Though I’ve missed almost nothing: there’s been no change since then.

And indeed. Stacked with spires of skyscrapers and boxy high-rises under the gloomy March sky, Manehattan looked the same as it had in December. Except there was no snow on the streets, just a light drizzle, and there seemed to be slightly more Lunar banners.

As he walked down the paved sidewalk, Greg thought back to the last time he had walked home from work, before he had been arrested. He was no different from the other ponies going home after a hard day’s work, so he didn’t even get indifferent looks. Everyone was too engrossed in themselves and their own problems to notice him. Mellow just… didn’t exist outside the office – for everyone except his neighbor, who had given him to the Gestaponies to get her nephew a place to live.

Now Greg caught glances full of apprehension and hidden fear. At the sight of him, some citizens turned away or crossed the street, or if they couldn’t, they huddled against the walls of houses or retreated into alleys.

And the gray pony knew what this was all about.

With his black coat, the briefcase strapped to his belt, and the cap of the LD Standartenhoofer, no one would dare stand in his way. He was now a symbol of the intimidating power that had kept half of Equestria in fear for more than four months.

…He had his coat and mane dyed, even had super-thin tape with new prints glued onto his hooves, and then was specially concussed by firing a gun next to him on a special range. Then he must have been transported to the place where Danfel was captured. After that, Greg, having come to his senses, went to the Equermacht on his own.

To carry out this operation, Equestria had to withdraw its troops and then bring them back, preventing the Lunar Army from going on the offensive. All so that a single pony could use the window to get to the enemy’s capital.

And now I have no right to let them down. Although… I agreed to it myself. So suck it up, Greg Mellow. And don’t complain.

After the infiltration, he spent a few days in a field hospital, then was sent back to Manehattan to recuperate. At first it was hard to stay conscious for long periods of time, but later the concussion wore off, and gradually Greg remembered everything Tempest Shadow had told him.

Once a Gestapony investigator came to interrogate him, but by then the stallion had already cemented his own legend in his mind, so he could easily answer all the questions.

Why was he at the front? Officially – to inspect the personnel of the LD, the rest is top secret.

How did he get wounded? Went into a wooded area at the call of nature, then a shell came. The last thing he remembered was rolling down the slope of the ravine.

Two soldiers were found dead nearby? Well, bad luck for the guys. Shit happens.

Why didn’t he go back to the troops for a week? Well, he had been unconscious for a couple of days, then too weak for a while, but eventually he'd made it up the slope where the guys from the nearby brigade had found him.

Greg had expected to be questioned about every little detail and had prepared a lot of backup explanations just in case. But the investigator seemed satisfied with his story and left shortly after, wishing him a speedy recovery.

“His” wife, a quiet and shy bluish-lilac unicorn, also visited him. It was the moment Greg had feared the most, but even she had recognized him for who he pretended to be under a layer of waterproof dye. It made Mellow especially ashamed of himself: it was unbearable to deceive, let alone tyrannize, this sweet creature.

But he had got over himself and taken on a new role, answering her questions about his well-being through his teeth, pretending to be a grumpy husband. Violet Rain – that was the unicorn’s name – didn’t look at him most of the time, and then she apologized and hurried away. And Greg, staring after her, felt like a total asshole for the first time.

A few days later, it was time for discharge. When Mellow arrived at his new “home,” he found a card in his mailbox from his boss, wishing him well and asking him to come to the office on his first day back to work.

Well, Night Sky was a schemer, wasn’t he?

In the meantime, Greg had to find his contacts and confirm the infiltration, as well as get his first instructions.

That was no problem. Mellow had damaged the radio receiver in Danfel’s apartment without “his” wife and children noticing and had volunteered to go to a workshop to have it repaired. And that same day, having prepared the first coded message, he went to Hoofton Street, where, according to Tempest’s words, those he was to meet lived.

The radio operator turned out to be a light brown unicorn named Erwin Smith. When he heard the code phrase about the rain that wasn’t there, he responded expectantly that there was no need to take an umbrella, and let Greg in.

While Erwin was examining the receiver, his wife, Cake Walk, came out to them. She was a pink earth pony with a red mane and a bulging pregnant belly, and she really did look like a strawberry cake. Erwin refused the tea, but Greg was happy to have a cup and praised the cookies. Out of politeness, the gray pony asked about the couple’s future foal, and Cake replied warmly that she would give birth in about a month and a half, but whether they ended up with a colt or a filly was not important to them. Erwin confirmed her words by hugging his wife, and then, when Cake had gone into the other room, he was busy transmitting the cryptogram Greg had prepared.

I wonder if Cake knows her husband works for Equestria, Mellow thought, watching the unicorn’s deft manipulation of the suitcase containing the illegal radio station. She probably does. And apparently, she really loves him, because even at the risk of getting caught, she still stays with him.

It’s settled. As long as it’s in my power, I’ll do everything I can to keep them safe.

Having made all the necessary preparations, Erwin began to tap out the numbers from Greg’s message in Horse code.

As a cipher, Mellow and Tempest had agreed to use the fourth volume of the collected works of Alabaster Comethoof, a Canterlot poet who had lived in the first century before Luna’s banishment, one of the few Equestrians who had not been cancelled in the Republic. The book was chosen because, first, it was in Danfel’s house and, second, it was almost unread, so it was unlikely to attract attention during a search.

The cryptogram, which took Greg half a day to complete, after which he burned the original page and washed the ashes in the restroom, contained a brief message about his successful infiltration and readiness for further action.

Jupiter to Aphelion
Out of the hospital. Remember everything well. Begin work soon. Awaiting instructions.

“Jupiter” was himself; “Aphelion” was the headquarters in Canterlot. What those words meant, Greg didn’t know, but he assumed it had something to do with astronomy. Besides, he liked the sound of it: Jupiter to Aphelion.

The next day, when Mellow picked up the “fixed” receiver, he also got a response from the center.

Aphelion to Jupiter
Good. Get to work tomorrow. Try to get into the archive and access the materials. Make sure you’re not followed.

Greg couldn’t be sure of the latter. Either he was too inexperienced to notice the tail, or the Gestaponies were able to spy almost unnoticed. However, Mellow had left no evidence on his side, so there was no reason to suspect him, he thought.

…There was some kind of crowd ahead. Greg realized it was a pack of about twenty batponies around a loudspeaker listening to Nightmare Moon’s speech and shrugged. That deep, metallic voice of the mare would give him nightmares for a long time.

And what the Mare from the Moon said made Mellow grit his teeth and want to cross to the other side of the street.

“…Our ponies will have jobs – and they will not! We will have pensions and benefits – they will not! We will have support for foals and elderly ponies – they will not! Our children will go to school and daycare – their children will sit in basements! Because they can do nothing! That’s it, that’s how we win this war!”

The batponies greeted each statement with joyful squeals and loud hoofbeats. Some of them began jumping up and down on the spot or banging pots on their heads with a metallic clatter.

Just like that fateful November of 1007.

Freaks. Scum. Bastards… Mellow thought as he approached the gathering. Not enough what that crazy mare had done in six months! How would they like it if the same was said about them? Though… yes, they had been deprived of everything for a long time, but last year a hoof of help was openly extended to them! And how did they respond? By disrupting the referendum and rioting! If it hadn’t been for the Whinnyapolis cultists, there wouldn’t have been that rally in Canterlot! If a thestral hadn’t been shot by a guardspony, Luna wouldn’t have turned into Nightmare Moon! Everything would’ve been different! But no… Why, why did they ruin everything?! What was the point of it all?!

The stallion cursed through his teeth. It is impossible to understand. It cannot be forgiven. We can only go all the way, uproot these insane ideas of superiority over the rest. Evil must be destroyed. Otherwise, there’ll be no peace in the world. And then maybe they’ll realize what a terrible mistake they’ve made.

“…four races, one Horsecoacher, one Republic!”

Luna’s speech ended, and the batponies erupted into whistling, shouting, and stomping. Meanwhile, Greg took a closer look at the banner above which a loudspeaker hung.

The silver-blue background showed a gray thestral with a purple mane and glowing red eyes, and his plate armor was clearly a reference to the times a thousand years ago. The inscription next to it read: Hail Shadow Wing, hero of the First Lunar War!

Greg knew this character from the book he had read in camp. According to the chronicles and historical documents, Shadow Wing was the commander of one of the Lunar Guard regiments during the War of the Two Sisters. After the main forces were defeated in the Everfree Forest, the regiment set out to storm the small mountain fortress of Canterlot, the temporary capital of Equestria. The attack was repulsed, and in response, the thestrals managed to slaughter half of the villages in the area before being driven out into the open and destroyed. One village was even turned into a memorial nearly five centuries ago.

But with Nightmare Moon’s rise to power in Manehattan, that history was dragged out of oblivion, turning Shadow Wing and his soldiers from butchers into heroes, and their massacre into a desperate act of resistance. Even the supposedly exact number of one thousand four hundred and eighty-eight guardsponies involved had appeared out of nowhere, though all the Equestrian chronicles put the number somewhere between five hundred and two thousand.

Another nail in the coffin of historical truth lost in artificial legends.

Meanwhile, the gathered batponies began to chant.

“Death to Celestia!”

“Kill the sunfuckers!”

“White whore to the stake!”

“May she die in her bunker!”

“The night will last forever!”

“Praise the Moon! Glory to Batponies…!”

They calmed down a bit when they saw Greg walking past them. A few hooves rose in the moonlight. It was as if everyone was waiting for him to answer.

A huge lump immediately formed in his throat and his legs turned to jelly.

No… Mellow thought to himself. Even if I act like a “pony in dragon skin” now, I still have principles. And I just can’t do the “from heart to moon” thing. At least not in front of these.

The stallion lifted his chin and turned away.

He had expected angry shouts, or perhaps to be surrounded and pinned to the wall, but the thestrals cautiously backed away from him and even stopped shouting their slogans for a while.

Of course, Greg grinned to himself. They saw that the standartenhoofer was in a bad mood, so why make him angrier? What if he has a headache? He might even shoot them…!

Amused, he relaxed a bit. Even though his hoof kept reaching for his holster to shoot the fanatics on the spot, Mellow reassured himself that he still had time. And anyway, he wouldn’t have enough ammunition for the whole crowd.

Meanwhile, he had almost reached the Lunar Chancellery.

It was unusual to approach the headquarters of the Lunazis as an official and not as a prisoner. But Greg overcame himself and, after adjusting his black trenchcoat for the last time, walked determinedly to the entrance of the building.

The two ponies with submachine guns guarding the massive doors saluted him bravely. Mellow nodded sullenly at them and, pulling his cap over his face, entered the Chancellery.

His heart was about to break into a gallop, but the stallion tried not to show it. After all, a standartenhoofer was not supposed to worry. Having reached his rank, he had to be able to go straight to any goal, deal ruthlessly with enemies, and bow only to the highest authority.

Danfel must have been like that. And now Greg had to copy some of his behavior.

With a nonchalant look, he showed his ID to the LD officers at the gate and, after squeezing through the turnstile, made his way down the corridor to the stairs.

He knew the location of all the offices perfectly. At Tempest’s request, the Crystal Empire had sent the detailed plans of their former consulate, and Danfel had told them how the building was used now. The sixth department, where the standartenhoofer worked, was on the fourth of five floors, and it took some hoofwork to get there.

But as soon as Greg was halfway up the stairs, he was called out.

“Whoa! Look who I see! Ready to get back to work, Danfel?”

Greg looked up sharply, out of his own thoughts, and could barely keep from cursing.

A dark blue thestral in a perfectly tailored black suit was walking straight towards him. Head of the Sixth Department, Night Sky.

“I’d have stayed home otherwise,” Mellow muttered, trying to imitate Danfel’s intonation and passive-aggressive communication style. “Anything wrong, Brigadenhoofer?”

“No, no,” Night Sky grinned, his fangs bared, “I just wanted to meet my best officer and get a first-hoof account of your trip.”

His friendly tone made Greg shiver.

Yeah, he’s one to keep an eye on, the gray pony thought.

“Then let’s go to the office,” he replied aloud. “No need to discuss important matters in the hallway, right?”

“Right, Danfel!” Night Sky laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, then turned back to the stairs. “Come on, tell me what you found out.”

They went up to the fourth floor and through the oak double doors they entered Night Sky’s office.

As soon as they sat down at the desk, the mask of feigned friendliness fell from the thestral. He sighed heavily and wrapped his hooves around his head for a moment, then looked at Mellow reproachfully.

“Oh, Danfel, why the hay did you go to the front, huh?” Night Sky’s voice took on a snarling tone. “What, you weren’t satisfied with the quiet work in the office with the informers? Playing a hero? Maybe I should transfer you to the Lunabwehr, that’s their field of activity, isn’t it…?”

“I just had to hear it for myself,” Greg replied grumpily. “You know I always try to check data personally.”

“I appreciate that, of course, but…” Night Sky’s face went dark. “You had no right to put yourself in this kind of danger. You’re not leaving Manehattan again, understood? Use agents if you have to… Okay, enough with the lectures, let’s get down to business. Are your assumptions confirmed?”

Greg let out a faint sigh.

This is the moment of truth. The big game is starting.

“In general, yes,” he said cautiously. “I have received reports of an increase in Changeling intelligence regarding Olenia and Equestria. In addition, a partial mobilization has already been announced in Chrysalis’ kingdom. All indications are they’ll soon be moving troops to their borders and preparing for full-scale conflict. Olenia won’t last long, stuck as it is in the last century, so it’ll be taken down quickly. And when that happens, the Changelings’ target will be Equestria, which will have to fight on two fronts.”

“Good,” Night Sky nodded. “What else?”

“Equestria itself is aware of the growing tensions in the west. Canterlot plans to negotiate with Vanhoover to intervene and organize a coup in Olenia to overthrow King Johan and bring the rightful Queen Velvet to power, but our agents have managed to stall these plans. One of Velvet’s supporters is the noble unicorn Fancy Pants, but his date, Fleur de Lis, was abducted to sabotage the negotiations, and now he’s doing his best to thwart Celestia’s efforts. Equestria simply won’t have time to change the government in Olenia and make it their puppet before the Changelings attack. The national focus on the war with us keeps the Solar from doing two things at once.”

As Specter would say – lies through my fucking teeth, Greg grinned. Actually, after Danfel’s revelations, they should have been on Fleur’s trail by now, and Fancy Pants had been instructed to push for negotiations no matter what. So now it all depends on whether Admiral Dust Hoover will agree to organize a landing at Hjortland."

He caught himself smiling. However, Night Sky had interpreted that smile in his own way.

“And so Equestria’s war on two fronts becomes more and more real,” the thestral summed up. “Bravo, Danfel. I didn’t expect you to bring back such valuable information, even though you were wounded. If the plan succeeds, I’ll even consider a reward for you.”

“Thank you, Brigadenhoofer, but that’s not important right now,” Greg shook his head. “Both of my informants from the Equestrian Forces were killed in the fire, and it’ll take me a long time to find new ones. Besides, somepony has to take care of their families in the Republic—”

“Not a word more, I’ll do it,” Night Sky interrupted. “Just give me their personal information.”

“Here you go.”

Mellow rummaged through his briefcase and pulled out a sheet of paper written in the real Danfel’s mouthwriting. The thestral nodded and tucked it into one of the folders on the desk.

I wonder, Greg thought, am I really helping these ponies – or sending them to slaughter? Night Sky might be using them as hostages to keep me in line. But there doesn’t seem to be any reason for that yet. And if there is, I’ll try to think of something.

“Anything else, Danfel?” Night Sky asked.

“Huh? Yes, there is something…” Greg pulled another sheet of paper out of his briefcase. “I need your resolution. Just to make sure nopony has any questions, so to speak.”

“A request to the archives? Well, let’s see what you’ve got here…” The batpony ran his eyes over the lines, frowning more and more with every moment. “Hmm… you know, the questions arose in my mind. Tell me, why the hay do you need reports on weapons development? That’s between the military and the Lunabwehr…”

“Equestria can’t help but recognize the threat of a second front with the Changelings in the future,” Mellow replied with a prepared explanation. “That’s why the Solar will try to defeat us as soon as possible and maybe develop some kind of super weapon… what’s it called in Griffonian…? – ah! a wunderwaffe. But I have no idea what that might be. So I need to familiarize myself with what we have, at least in general terms, to know where to look.”

“And Lunenerbe? Why do you need reports on their activities? They’re just a bunch of fanatical pseudo-scientists doing some…” Night Sky paused, apparently having realized something. “Uh-huh… so you think they might be involved… But you’re not going to share your thoughts with the Gestapony counterintelligence…” The thestral grinned again. “Just out of a hospital bed and already playing a new game?” He wagged his hoof at Greg playfully. “But that’s what I appreciate: you don’t forget about your work for a moment. Anyway, you had time to rest, didn’t you? How are your wife and kids?”

“Fine,” Greg said with a twitch of his cheek. “Are you gonna sign or not?”

“Well, it’s no trouble at all.” Night Sky took a pen between his teeth and scribbled something at the bottom of the page, then stamped it. “If you think it’s important, you’re welcome. It will be great if we can beat the Lunabwehr and the Gestaponies, if they’re interested in this case as well… Just don’t forget to report the results to me, okay?”

“Sure,” the gray pony murmured and put the paper back into his briefcase. “Permission to go?”

“You may,” the thestral waved his front leg. “If you need anything else, let me know, I’ll take care of it.”

Greg nodded silently and got up from the desk to head for the exit.

But he could feel Night Sky’s appraising gaze on his back.

“I hope you know that it’s strictly forbidden to take documents out of the hall?” the stern mare with the insignia of a stormhoofer asked as she unloaded huge stacks of folders from the dolly onto the table in front of Greg. “As well as any kind of notes or memory crystals?”

“Of course,” he nodded coldly. His mind flashed back to the sleepless nights in Tempest’s office, amidst similarly carefully guarded materials. “May I help?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” she snorted, placing the last stack of documents in front of Greg. “Perhaps you’re the one who needs help sorting through this sea of papers?”

Mellow looked around at the meter-long towers of classified data that took up most of the table. This isn’t a sea, it’s a mountain range, he thought with a barely audible sigh.

“No,” he muttered, “I can do it myself.”

“I know it’s none of my business, but…” the mare hesitated, “Standartenhoofer, why do you need all these documents?”

“That’s right – none of your business,” Greg said and glared at the archivist. “Go back to your desk and keep clopping to your magazines. Don’t bother me.”

“Yes, sir,” she said through her teeth, rolling the empty dolly in front of her and walking back. But Mellow could hear her muttering to herself, “Dickhead…”

He could have picked up on that, with the kind of scandal Danfel was no stranger to, but he didn’t. Instead, he just shook his head and looked back at the piles of paper that awaited him.

Celestia… I knew that Night Sky’s signature would help me gain access to many secrets… but not this much! I was expecting to give the Center a preliminary report in a few days – and now I’ll have to fiddle around for at least a month! And time is running out…

The gray pony took a deep breath - and then exhaled slowly through his mouth.

All right, then. Not the first time… Take it easy. Let’s pretend I’ve just been told to clear out the backlog of reports in the office… say, left over from an employee who’s on sick leave. No specific deadline, just the sooner the better. But I don’t want to miss anything. Oka-a-ay… I know the feeling… Well, focused? Now let’s get to work.

With these thoughts, Greg stood on his hind legs on the chair and pulled the first folder from the top of the first stack with his teeth.

Within an hour, Mellow’s head was spinning from the abundance of secrets he’d been exposed to.

Even with Night Sky’s authority, Greg had only been given access to the public reports of the Ministry of Armaments and War Production and the reports of the Sixth Department. But even that, as it turned out, was more than enough.

Of course, Greg had assumed that some departments and services would look at the work of others through their ponies, but he hadn’t even realized the true extent of the surveillance. What’s more, he still couldn’t believe it.

Literally everyone was watching each other.

The External SD, where Danfel worked, was being watched by the Internal SD, and vice versa; the Gestaponies were constantly tugging at the criminal ponice; the Lunabwehr and the administrative services[2] were watching the squabbling closely. And it seemed that over all this bacchanalia of paranoia and mutual hatred there was the rumbling laughter of the only beneficiary – the mad Mare from the Moon.

What if that lazy bitch was put here to spy too? Greg thought as he looked at the archivist. She was indeed distracted from time to time by a magazine with pictures of very interesting content. I wonder if the Seventh Department gives Aryanne data about visitors to the archives…? I wouldn’t be surprised. What difference does it make? I’m already here. So I have to assume that I’m being followed. At least in this building.

The gray pony sighed and looked at the folders spread out in front of him.

On the other hoof, total espionage had its advantages. While the official reports contained only general information and statistics, the reports of Night Sky’s spies revealed a much more detailed picture. Indeed, following Gestapony agents in corporate security, for example, the Sixth’s operatives reported not only their own observations, but also a considerable portion of others’.

And what these embedded informants brought to light made Greg’s mane stand on end.

During his service with Aurora, the gray pony had gotten used to the idea that Equestria – especially with Applesnack’s team – was a little ahead of the Republic in weapons development. Lilies were already being replaced by magazine-fed Lavenders, the design of battle saddles was improving every month, and automatic weapons such as submachine guns and the first prototypes of magic rifles powered by multi-loading crystals were appearing. But the mass use of the latest models was still far away.

The Lunar State, however, had chosen a completely different strategy.

With his heart pounding, Greg read about how tens of thousands of automatic assault rifles codenamed “Lightning” were rolling off the assembly lines of military factories in Manehattan and Fillydelphia and piled up in secret warehouses that Equestrian bombers couldn’t reach. And there seemed to be only one explanation.

Offensive! They’re planning a big counterattack along the entire front! Mellow broke into a cold sweat and hastily wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic. Not now, there’s mud everywhere… but in the summer… I must get this information to the Center as soon as possible. Otherwise, Equestria may not survive.

At first glance, there were no major breakthroughs in tanks and aircraft. As in Equestria, new modifications of light and medium models were being developed; just in case, Greg made a mental note to keep a closer eye on these areas of development as well. In addition, the first versions of reinforced armored vehicles were being developed, which could be a good asset for breaking through the front line.

What made him frown seriously was the abbreviation MLRS, which had appeared a few times. Hoping to find more information, Mellow had gone through all the reports from the last three months three times. But there was nothing more about what it was or how it could be used. I’ll have to let the guys in charge know. Maybe they’ll decipher it, Greg thought as he put aside another folder.

But this wasn’t even the most suspicious part.

Often, in the most unexpected places, there was a name that the stallion almost never expected to see here.

Many documents bore the resolution of Sunset Shimmer, Colonel General of the Equermacht.

Yes, one could assume that the commander of the ground forces would oversee the preparations for the rearmament of her army… But from the reports, it was indirectly evident that the new weapons were being designed almost entirely under the supervision of that ubiquitous light orange unicorn.

Another mystery to be solved.

Two small stacks stood out from the pile of light brown folders: a green one labeled “Project Manehattan” and a gray one – “Project Horizons.” Both were marked “Top Secret, of Special Importance.”

Greg’s hooves twitched as he touched the heavy corrugated cardboard covers and the wax seals on the tightly knotted ties. Surely this information was important enough to be worth his head if it would help the nation survive.

They’re just a bunch of cheaters! he thought as he read the shocking documents. The whole world is basically a map for a big strategy game, where rulers compete to see whose country will conquer all others… Divisions are just figurines of ponies, griffons, or other creatures that are moved back and forth… When one dies, they just remove it from the board. And then subtract ten thousand from the resources of the inhabitants and put a new one in its place.

And technologies determine the balance of power and the development level of the countries... And these lunar scums have definitely gotten a huge piece of knowledge from the future and are now using it! Cheaters, in short…

There was also a separate pile of papers about Lunenerbe. But just looking at the first few pages made Greg want to slam the folder shut and never open it again. In everyday, scant professional language, it described the details of experiments on live ponies! Mellow was almost sickened by the descriptions of how the mad scientists used dark magic on their patients – some of the techniques were hidden by code names. But even the plain text was enough to make the archivist turn on the gray pony, who was breathing painfully through clenched teeth.

I’ll destroy them, the stallion promised himself. I’ll find out where they’re doing their nasty experiments, and… I may not kill them myself, but I’ll make sure they’ll never be able to hurt anypony again. I’ll blow the place to Discord and be done with it. And those bastards will be brought to Canterlot to answer for what they’ve done.

He quickly recognized the name of the head of these monsters as Gizmo Poindexter. He also decided to memorize the name of Beatrix Lulamoon, the “Doctor of Medicine” mentioned in the reports of some “Project Steelpony.”

As Greg closed another file, he leaned back in his chair and took a breath. His heart was still racing, but the trembling in his legs gradually subsided. Facing such secrets was an ordeal indeed.

A cough came from above his ear and Greg could barely keep himself from jumping up. He turned and looked at the archivist, who even took a few steps back from the fierce expression on the pseudo-Danfel’s face.

“You should have warned before you approached, you idiot…!” he hissed. “Well, what do you want?”

“I-It’s eight o’clock, Standartenhoofer,” the mare replied, slightly relieved. “The archive is closed for visitors…”

“Well…” Greg rose from the table, and the stormhoofer stepped away again. “Reserve these materials for me. If anypony has any questions, please send them to Brigadenhoofer Sky. That’s all for now.”

He took his trenchcoat and cap from the back of the chair and, dressing on the way, headed for the exit, feeling like an absolute bastard.

Really, the gray pony didn’t even notice that it was evening. The lights were on in the corridors and there were even fewer black uniforms than in the morning.

As Greg yawned, he realized how exhausted he was. He’d only been playing his role for one day and he already missed the times when he’d worked with Aurora and Specter to fortify the camp they’d occupied.

But the main test was yet to come. After all, impersonating a grumpy colonel on duty was one thing, and mimicking the behavior of a household tyrant was quite another.

I’ll think about it later, Greg sighed as he descended the stairs. I have no idea what I’ll do, but I won’t be like Danfel. His family deserves someone better…

“Thinking of something, Standartenhoofer?” a melodious voice suddenly sounded nearby.

When Greg snapped out of his thoughts, he was about to bark angrily at its owner… but when he lifted his head, he almost tripped on the bottom step. His dry throat reminded him that he hadn’t had a drink all day, but he just barely realized it.

A few steps away from him stood Octavia Melody. She must have come down the hallway from the other side and happened to be near the stairs at that moment. Greg involuntarily admired the exquisite figure of the gray mare in the perfectly ironed black tunic and elegant skirt that revealed her cutie mark – but he immediately reprimanded himself. She’s a war criminal. Don’t forget that. And you’re still on duty yourself.

“A little,” he mumbled, shrugging, and got off the last step. “First day back at work after an unplanned vacation…”

Octavia grinned. She seemed to know the reason for this “vacation” as well as Night Sky.

“Well, I won’t keep you. Good luck with your business.”

“Have a nice day," Mellow nodded and walked towards the exit of the building.

I wonder what she’s doing here. Oh, yeah, there’s the Third Department office on the second floor… Or… Greg’s gaze flickered back to Octavia: she was heading for the restroom. What if she came to see Aryanne? Or Night Sky? What kind of game is she playing herself? And… Tempest said that Lunenerbe… Arrgh, why is it so complicated, huh? I’m getting so paranoid myself…

Greg walked past the guards, who saluted him, out the massive doors and down the stairs. He breathed in the cool, damp air, glanced at the purple flags hanging from the roof on either side of the entrance, grimaced, and walked through the puddles of the day toward the house where he would live for a long, long time.

His mood, which had been just about sinking all day, turned completely sour.

Yeah, Tempest was right, Greg thought as he weaved his way between puddles and rushing ponies. Power does truly corrupt. But how, how can I remain myself when the whole city is like a prison, ready to crush anyone who falls into its net…?

On the way, there was a roadblock of Gestaponies checking everyone’s papers. That’s strange, they weren’t here in the morning… So they were brought here during the day. But why?

Greg went up to a stallion in a black uniform and held out his ID. The Gestapony took a quick look at the document, then looked at Greg, as if checking his face against a photograph, before saluting and giving it back to him.

“You may pass, Standartenhoofer. Have a nice walk.”

“What are you here for?” Mellow grumbled, stuffing the pass into his pocket.

“Planned security measures,” the officer reported. “Identification of persons with false documents or of non-Equestrian origin.”

Of course, Greg snorted to himself. This isn’t “the Lunar Republic for Ponies Only” anymore, it’s more like “You’re not a pony if you’re from Stalliongrad”… Maybe I should complain to Night Sky. Tell him that these inspections violate not only my rights, but also the rights of law-abiding citizens? Let’s see if my boss has any influence on Aryanne…

“Good,” he said aloud with a nod. “Carry on with it.”

“Yes, sir!” The Gestapony made a moonlight. “Praise the Moon!”

As disgusting as it was, Greg had to respond this time. He lifted his right hoof and walked past the roadblock, wanting to wash not so much his leg as his very soul.

It was almost dark, and the lights were on in the streets, over which the dreary, rainy twilight had settled. As he walked from one island of light to another, admiring the countless reflections in the puddles, Greg felt the chains of hopelessness that had bound his heart loosen a little.

After all, he was still alive. And more than that, he hadn’t even been caught. That meant he could still change something here.

It wasn’t already much of a walk to Danfel’s house. The standartenhoofer lived far away, almost in the suburbs, but he didn’t use his car very often, preferring to walk. Greg had to adopt his habit.

But that would be convenient… Although… I don’t even know how to drive… well, I mean, I have a rough idea of how it’s done, but I’ve never tried it myself…

“Hey! Psst!” came from nearby.

Mellow stopped in surprise and turned his head around, looking for the speaker.

And when he found him, he felt a pit in his stomach.

From a dark alleyway between the houses, a Gestapony was furtively waving at him.

What is it? An arrest? Have I been exposed? Greg let out a spasmodic sigh. But I didn’t seem to give myself away by anything… Maybe I was followed when I carried the receiver…? Or is this some kind of intrigue by Night Sky?

Whatever the case, there was only one way to dispel suspicions.

Greg looked around and, satisfied with the safe number of ponies around him, cautiously made his way to the alley.

A unicorn with the insignia of an unterhoofer was waiting for him around the corner of the house. As Mellow approached, the Gestapony examined him carefully, looked into his eyes – and suddenly smiled.

“Mellow… phew, it’s you after all. I—”

He didn’t have a chance to finish. With one hoof Greg had him pinned to the wall by his throat, and with the other he pulled Danfel’s pistol out of its holster, grabbed it in his teeth and pointed it at the unterhoofer.

“How do you know me? Tell me!”

“I… agh…” the unicorn gasped. “I-interrogation… Zick-kh…”

“What the hay are you talking—”

Images from the past suddenly came to mind.

Ponies breaking into the apartment… the pennant on which the hooves had been wiped… the ride through the city in a ponice truck… the taste of blood in his mouth from Zick’s blows…

And watching it all from the side, a nondescript unterhoofer…

Greg’s eyes widened in disbelief. The leg around the unicorn’s neck relaxed, and the latter fell back onto all four, panting and coughing.

“Were you following me?” Mellow asked, putting the gun down. “Were you ordered to? By whom?”

“Ah-h… kha… I don’t know, just orders from above to watch… oof… Standartenhoofer Danfel after… after he returns from the front…” the unicorn rambled, trying to catch his breath. “Two are assigned to lead you in the morning, and Zick and I in the evening—”

“Zick? Zick Hunter?” Greg went cold. “Are you talking about him now?”

“Yeah, yeah… uh… he just went to pee, said he’d be back soon, so I figured—”

Sounds like the truth, Greg remarked, looking at the house number. Somewhere around here was my… and now probably his apartment.

So, I really am under Aryanne’s radar. And besides, on the verge of failure.

“How did you recognize me? Where was the leak?”

The unterhoofer shrugged with a smile. “Voice, eyes, walk… A lot of things. Everypony has their own unique traits that are very hard to change. And on my part, it was just an observation.”

“Anypony else know who I am? Like Zick for example?”

“No, no… I haven’t told anypony.”

“Why not?” Greg narrowed his eyes. “You’re gonna keep me hooked? Wouldn’t it be easier for me to shoot you? And believe me, I won’t get anything for it…”

“I’m not your enemy. I…” the unicorn sighed, “from the beginning… well, I wasn’t really in favor of the Republic, so—”

“And that’s why you joined the Gestaponies,” Mellow said sarcastically. “Just don’t bullshit me.”

“Listen to me! There’s no choice here! No choice at all! Either you keep up with everyone else or you’re dead! I really don’t like what’s going on, but I can’t change it!” The unterhoofer’s voice rang with anger. “I couldn’t even stop Zick when he was beating you… All I could do was watch! I…” He sobbed. “I could do nothing…”

“And why did you tell me? Why didn’t you rat me out to your superiors to get a promotion?”

“I want to help you.” The unicorn looked hopefully at Greg. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m sure it’s the right thing. If anything, you can rely on me. I may not be able to go against the system openly, but it will warm my heart to know that I’m doing something good.”

The unterhoofer smiled again, and Greg shuddered, realizing that he just couldn’t distrust him.

One day my credulity will bring me down. But I really hope not now.

“What’s your name?” Mellow asked.

“Swift Snow, LD unterhoofer, Manehattan branch of the Gestapony,” the unicorn replied, cocking his chin. “Believe me, I’m on your side. So don’t worry…” He glanced at his hoof-watch and groaned. “Sweet Celestia, Zick should be back soon! This conversation never happened,” he said quickly to Greg. “Go on, hurry up!”

Mellow suppressed the last urge to shoot him and just nodded. Then he stepped out of the alley and strode briskly toward Danfel’s house.

The first day… his mind was racing. And there’s already so much to deal with. How long will I stay alive here and… will I break? Let’s see. The main thing is to contact the Center. If I’m sixth on their funeral list, it shouldn’t be for nothing.

Night Sky may be playing a grandmaster, but I’m no fool either. Let’s see if they’re all smart enough to crack me like Snow did. If not, they’ll never be able to win the war they’ve started.

It started to drizzle again. The drops dripped down the black trenchcoat, and Greg suddenly realized that it was made of leather. But whose leather it was, he somehow didn’t want to find out.

The key to the apartment was, as in the morning, a bit of a struggle. It was hard to get it into the keyhole, and when he turned it, the lock squeaked, as if it didn’t want to let in the stallion, who obviously hadn’t taken care of his house for a long time.

I’ll have to call a locksmith, Greg thought as he pushed the door open and entered. I wonder if it’s forbidden to change the locks myself, the fine of ten thousand bits, huh?

He flicked the switch and turned on the light in the hallway, and while he took off and hung up his trenchcoat, which inevitably began dripping water on the shiny floor, he looked around at his new place.

A hall with a coat rack and umbrellas lining the wall, and four pairs of rubber boots: large, smaller, and two very small; then a corridor with several doors. To the left was the bathroom, straight ahead was the kitchen, and on the right hoof were three rooms: a nursery, a bedroom, and a study. Everything shone with a dazzling cleanliness; apparently Danfel was a neat freak who couldn’t tolerate dirt in his own house, but he seemed to have left that duty to his wife. And he made sure that his wish was strictly followed.

Violet Rain’s face peeked out from the nursery. The unicorn’s eyes widened, and she squirmed under Greg’s gaze.

“Hello, darling,” she said softly, and the fear in her beautiful voice made the gray stallion’s heart clench for the umpteenth time. “You’re late tonight… Dinner is on the stove – your favorite stuffed cabbage with hay.” Her eyes fell on the puddle beneath his trenchcoat. “Wait a second, I’ll wipe it up…”

“No need,” Greg muttered, “it’ll dry by itself.”

He walked past the unicorn, who looked at him in amazement, and went into the bathroom, where he began furiously scrubbing his hooves of the street dirt.

Not because he was as tidy as the real owner of this house. It would be a crime to walk on such a carefully polished floor with unwashed hooves, devaluing the work of “his” downtrodden wife and the mother of “his” children.

Leaving the bathroom, Greg stalked into the kitchen. On the stove was a pan with four cabbage rolls, smelling deliciously of fried hay. It made his heart tingle again to see how hard Violet was working for her “replaced” husband.

Taking a clean plate and fork, the gray pony laid out the stuffed cabbage, then sat down at the table and began to savor the meal with pleasure. The unicorn’s cooking was truly magical, perhaps not without magic indeed. The cabbage was neither too fatty nor too salty, and the hay crunched in his teeth more appetizingly than any burger.

When the plate was empty, Greg even regretted that the delicious meal was over, but then he realized that he was already full. Violet ran into the kitchen and, faster than he could stop her, gathered up the dirty dishes and began to wash them.

Mellow involuntarily admired her slim figure in her blue housedress, under which he could see a nicely wiggling purple tail and hind legs, but immediately reprimanded himself.

I can’t… I have no right to look at her… like that…

While the unicorn fiddled with the frying pan, Greg poured himself some tea – and after taking a few sips of the bitter, scalding drink, he walked away.

In his study, he threw off the tunic that was pressing down on his shoulders and hung it on the back of a chair, then plopped down on the couch and hoofed his head.

What am I doing… what am I doing?! How am I supposed to act?! I’m already imagining what Danfel was like, and I just can’t copy him!

There was a timid clatter from the hallway, and Violet opened the door and peeked in.

“Darling—”

“What?” Mellow turned to her sharply.

There must have been something “Danfel-ish” reflected on his face, because the unicorn immediately faded. “Sorry, I—” And she backed away, as if she wanted to disappear as fast as possible.

Greg couldn’t take it anymore. He jumped to his hooves, ran to the door and swung it open. Violet froze on the threshold in horror, as if expecting a blow. And it seemed like she was about to shut her eyes.

But instead… Greg hugged her. He felt her body tense under his hooves, ready to curl up into a tight ball for defense…

But there was nothing to defend against. And so the unicorn slowly relaxed, exhaling softly into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ve been so busy that I haven’t been myself… You know, I just thought…” He sighed heavily. “I guess I was a terrible pony.”

“No, what you’re saying…” she whimpered and tried to pull away...

But she stopped when Greg gently stroked her back.

“I know you’re afraid to say it, but it’s true. I’m sorry. I’ll… try to be better. Kinder… Honestly. You’ll see. I…” How hard, how hard is it to say… “I love you, Violet.”

“And I love you too, Ian,” she said in a faint voice.

“Is something wrong? Are you upset about something?”

“Yes… Randy caught a cold today. I think he and Sunny opened the window last night when it was raining… He even had to stay home from school for it. Will you go over to their room today?”

“Sure,” he breathed out. Then he pulled back slightly and looked into her face.

Violet sank down, but Mellow lifted her chin with his hoof and looked into her tear-stained blue eyes. “Don’t be afraid,” he said softly. “I’ll never hurt you again. I swear it on my life.”

At least until the war is over and the real Danfel returns, Greg thought. Or until I’m exposed. I’m only hurting her more by deceiving her! The gray pony wanted to howl at himself in frustration, but then he suppressed the urge. Arrgh, it’s so complicated… Why can’t I at least give her some hope?!

“You really have changed, Ian,” Violet said. “Is it… your trip having that effect on you?”

Mellow nodded.

“Yes. Being on the front lines and almost getting killed changes the way you look at life… and the ponies around you.” At least I didn’t have to lie about it. “I’m gonna go see Randy. I’ll just… change out of my work clothes.”

He let go of the lilac unicorn and headed for the bedroom, where a set of house clothes would surely be in the closet.

Taking off his shirt and hanging it up, Greg chose a white T-shirt and black shorts from the neat, crease-free spread of things. Danfel probably preferred to wear them at home, but the gray pony couldn’t remember exactly.

Who cares, I don’t think Violet would dare point that out to me, Mellow thought… and was ashamed of his own thoughts. What’s wrong with me… am I really starting to think like that freak already?! Tempest was right… No, I should hold on. Besides, it’d be weird explaining my clothes at home. Which means I’m worrying about it for nothing.

As he left the bedroom, he smiled at his “wife” with the corners of his lips and took a step towards the nursery…

A sudden realization hit him like an electric shock and made him freeze, already reaching for the doorknob with his hoof.

I’m supposed to walk in on kids I don’t know and pretend I’m their daddy. Sweat broke out on the gray stallion’s forehead. Only foalnappers do that… O-o-oh, why did I ever agree to this adventure…?

“D-darling? Y-you okay?” Violet asked behind his back.

Greg sighed heavily, remembering that he wasn’t alone in the hallway.

There’s no turning back. I have to go in.

“Yeah… sorry. I was just thinking,” he said and pushed the door of the room.

It didn’t budge, as if it was locked.

Mellow stared at the door for a second or two, then made a facehoof and pulled it back. With a creak, it opened.

It was dark in the nursery, but a narrow strip of light fell from the hallway. Greg looked closer and saw two beds against the far wall – and the frightened eyes of the foals staring back at him in the darkness.

“Daddy, it’s not me, it’s Randy!” the light-colored earth filly rambled, standing up on the bed. “It was his idea to watch the rain, I had nothing to do with it…!”

“Why are you lying… apchoo!” the bluish unicorn colt, a couple of years younger than her, replied gruffly and blew his nose noisily. “As if you didn’t want to…!”

Names and characteristics from the dossier immediately popped into Greg’s head.

Sunny Smirk, nine years old. A talkative and fidgety schemer. Evaded punishment by ratting on her brother. Trying to do well in school and generally maintain the image of a “proper” filly. No cutie mark. Favorite pastime is drawing.

Randy Crunch, seven years old. Quiet and shy introvert. He was cranky in his early childhood, but after Danfel’s “parenting methods” he tends to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Studies averagely, for which he occasionally gets beaten up. Not prone to lying, never complained about his sister, but never defended her either. There’s a scar on his left hind leg from being hit with a belt buckle. No cutie mark. Favorite pastime is reading.

“Quiet, kids,” Greg said, and the foals were instantly silent. The expressions on their faces became even more frightened.

I gotta do something right now. Something to defuse the situation. Why are they looking at me like that? Although they don’t seem to have Stockpony syndrome like Violet…

“No need to quarrel,” he continued, sitting down on the stool next to Randy’s bed. “It’s just the way it is. After all, you learn from the mistakes of others or from your own.” Greg turned to the colt who was staring at him in surprise. “Tomorrow I’ll leave your mother some money for milk and honey. When you drink it, you’ll be well in no time.”

“Thanks.” Randy sniffed. “Dad…”

“What?”

“Can you read us a book? Ple-e-ease…”

The colt turned on the night light and Greg noticed a thin book on the bedside table.

“Oh, good. Well, what do we have here…”

Mellow picked up the book and glanced at the cover.

Most of it was a picture of a purple night sky with pale pink circles of stars. A bright crescent moon hung over a hilly plain that looked like a battlefield. In the glow of the nightlight, Greg could even make out bloodstains and helmets in the grass, and he cringed inwardly. Who would let kids read something like this?

There was no author’s name; instead, the title stood out under the moon in a fancy white font: “Lunar Tales.” Mellow turned the book over. On the back of the cover was written in small letters, “APPROVED BY THE MINISTRY OF SCIENCE, EDUCATION AND CULTURE.” Next to it was the Ministry’s logo – a treble clef surrounded by a crescent moon with three stars between its ends.

Octavia Melody’s stylized cutie mark.

Sure. Who else? Well, let’s see how the younger generation is being brainwashed here…

There was a bookmark sticking out of the middle – purple, of course, and with Nightmare Moon’s black profile inscribed in the outline of the moon’s disk.

Propaganda as it is. In its purest form.

Greg opened the book and, sitting closer to the night light, flipped through the pages.

As he glanced through the text in the dim light of a small lamp, he couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly. Most of the stories in the anthology were actually reworkings of the usual Equestrian tales, but there were a few “original” ones as well, like “Why Batponies and Pegasi Have Different Wings” or “Moon Walk” – a story about a filly who turned into a batpony and became the apprentice of Nightmare Moon, who appeared to her in her dreams.

But Greg was interested in something else – a specific story.

The stallion cleared his throat and began to read aloud with expression.

“Once upon a time, when all ponies were just getting used to living together, two little sisters, both unicorns, were born into one of Equestria’s noble families. The elder was whiter than the sunlight on a summer’s day, the younger bluer than the evening sky after sunset.

“In those distant times, the Sun and Moon were raised and lowered by six of the strongest mages. It was not an easy job, and each time they were so tired that they could do nothing else but keep changing day and night. But one night they had used up all their strength in the ritual and could no longer raise the Sun for the new day.

“Horror gripped the lands of Equus. Nopony knew what to do; everyone feared that the night would last forever. Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, the longest and hottest day ever seen came.

“But two sisters came to the aid of the mages. They both were already skilled in magic, and after learning the spell used by the six, they were able to control the Sun and the Moon themselves. And when they had mastered this great power, it turned them into alicorns and gave them both pegasus wings. Seeing their power, the ponies recognized them as their new rulers. An era of peace and prosperity returned to Equestria.

“The sisters divided their duties. The elder sister took care of the Sun, and the younger took care of the Moon. But the ponies were used to playing and working during the day and sleeping at night, so the elder got all their love and respect while the younger was in her shadow.

“It didn’t help that at night she wandered through dreams and banished nightmares – ponies took it for granted and felt no gratitude. Only the nocturnal tribe of Thestrals, accustomed to sleeping without dreams during the day, honored the younger alicorn as the leading one in the ruling pair.

“Her elder sister grew proud and ceased to appreciate her younger helper. Moreover, the white alicorn dreamed of ruling the Moon – and thus gaining sole power over the pony lands.

“The younger sister would not tolerate this and refused to lower the Moon until the elder sister apologized and recognized her as her equal. But the elder sister refused and gathered an army to capture her and imprison her on the Moon. Not to be outdone, the younger sister enlisted the help of the Thestrals, who fought for her as their Princess.

“But the forces were unequal. Three races of ponies united against one and defeated the latter in a fierce battle at the Castle of the Two Sisters. The rulers also met in this battle and fought a magical duel face to face. But the elder sister cheated and used the power of six ancient artifacts known as the Elements of Harmony to defeat the younger and send her to the Moon for eternity. The younger sister, however, summoned the power of the stars and uttered a prophecy that read: ‘On the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in my escape, and I will bring about nighttime eternal.’

“After the defeat of their leader, the surviving Thestrals hid in caves and swamps, fleeing the madness and fury of the other three races. The ponies themselves have all but erased the memories of their nocturnal brethren.

“After getting rid of her rival, the elder sister began to rule all the ponies alone. In time, she became so arrogant and self-centered that she paid no attention to the wishes of her subjects, who continued to obey her blindly, and her croup could no longer fit on the throne as she ate banana cakes every day.

“A thousand years passed, and the prophecy came true. The younger sister returned to Equestria burning with righteous anger, but the elder sister pacified her with the offer to rule together.

“But this was only a ruse to lull the Lunar Alicorn’s vigilance. The Sun Princess was content with the way things were, and she had no intention of giving her sister any real power.

“For a while, peace reigned between the two alicorns. But when the younger sister talked about letting Thestrals live as equals with the other ponies, the elder one feared she might lose her power and decided to deal with the younger one decisively.

“The Lunar Pony was imprisoned in a dungeon on false charges. And those who defended her were ordered by the elder sister to be shot without mercy. When the younger sister learned of this, she gathered all her strength and broke free, taking with her those who remained loyal to her.

“And now, the ponies of the New Lunar Republic must unite to defeat the evil and self-absorbed Sun Princess and make her pay for all she has done.”

Buck, what unthinkable, inconceivable nonsense! Greg sighed and put the book back on the bedside table. Though… it’s all in Horsewell’s recipes. A half-truth seasoned with a convenient lie can justify anything.

“And you’re fighting for the Lunar Pony too, aren’t you, Daddy?” asked Sunny.

Mellow flinched at the question.

“I’m—” He swallowed. “I’m doing what I can. Just to make sure that… peace comes soon, and the ponies live happily ever after.”

“But we’re gonna win, right? Right?” Randy asked.

Greg looked into the colt’s innocent turquoise eyes and almost howled in pain. The gray stallion’s soul was being torn apart at that moment.

“Actually… it’s more complicated than it says here. Just as Celestia wasn’t a monster, Luna had her own weaknesses. Their fight was more of a misunderstanding… well, maybe some ponies wanted them to fight. No book will ever tell the true story. Because nopony can know the whole truth, only a part of it.”

Yeah, go ahead and change the subject. It’s so mature to evade the answer by occupying the foals’ brains with other information!

“They told us at school that Celestia ate foals for breakfast,” Sunny said thoughtfully. “Baked in banana sauce…”

Greg shuddered as he tried to imagine it.

But the worst part was how calmly the filly talked about it.

“It’s just the way things are said now,” the stallion sighed. “You just have to learn to think about what other ponies are saying. Maybe they don’t know the whole truth either. And also to keep your mouth shut in case of anything. And others would do well to do the same.”

He smiled and reached out his hoof to give Randy a fatherly boop on the nose…

But the little unicorn suddenly shrank into a ball and closed all four legs against his touch.

Like from a blow.

Greg jerked back. His breath came heavily out of his chest, and his back felt like it had been struck by a cold wire.

The gray pony staggered back a few steps, and then, unable to stand it, rushed out of the room.

Already in the hall he heard the voices of the foals.

“What’s up with him? He’s strange today…”

“Well, better that than the usual…”

That was the last straw.

Greg flew into the office and plopped down on the couch. The stallion groaned and his hoof slammed into the plush upholstery several times, then he banged his head against the hard elbow rest.

Finally, he collapsed, his entire body shaking violently.

When Violet looked in, she saw an unimaginable sight: her husband, a high-ranking LD officer nicknamed “Iron Ian” for his toughness, was crying.

April 4.

Jupiter to Aphelion

N.S. believed in the delay of the negotiations between F.P. and D.H.

A.W. put me under watch, but on my appeal through N.S. the surveillance was lifted.

Researched almost all available material in the archives on the request submitted.

Equestria is critically behind in the development and production of firearms. The Republic is preparing and stockpiling large numbers of the latest automatic rifles (more than 100,000 by the end of March). Likely that the army will soon be rearmed for a large-scale offensive. S.S. personally supervises many stages of the process.

There is an unknown abbreviation in the documents: MLRS. Decipher what it might be.

Research is also underway in three new areas.

1) Project Manehattan – the creation of weapons of mass destruction based on conventional aerial bombs with an added circuit of enchanted gems and an ampoule of dragon fire. According to calculations, the explosion of such a bomb should be thousands of times more powerful than usual. As far as I have learned, dragon fire is obtained by necromancy from dragons killed in battle. However, the location of the base where this is done is top secret. I believe it is near the Dragon Exclave within the NLR. The person in charge is Dr. Trottenheimer.

2) Project Horizons – the space program for which they plan to take over the unfinished spaceport near Hoofington. Their goal is to establish a base on the moon and put a constellation of satellites into orbit. Several military factories are secretly converted for rocket production. In charge is Delta Vee.

3) Project Steelpony – the creation of super-soldiers based on the developments of Chiropterra. They are researching ways to fuse a living body with armor and weapons, as well as enhance physical abilities. The base is the Lunenerbe Medical Institute in Manehattan. In charge is Beatrix Lulamoon. Supervisor is Gizmo Poindexter.

It will take me about a week to copy the documents from memory for transmission. Also request permission to recruit a sympathetic member of LC-IV to devise a plan to dismantle the Institute. Awaiting further instructions.

The gin and tonic was bitter and strongly flavored with some herbs. And the aftertaste had notes of juniper and sour citrus.

What nasty crap. How could Danfel like this stuff…?

Greg put the glass down and looked around the club’s blue-darkened room.

Techno from the dance floor blasted into his ears, drowning out all sound, and the flickering strobe lights made it seem like sparks were about to fly from his eyes. Many ponies were shaking in an ugly, twitchy parody of a dance; others were sitting at tables or at the bar. Behind puffs of stage smoke, the figure of the DJ, a unicorn with round dark glasses, stood on his hind legs at the console.

Hoofbeats was a rather fashionable place in the middle of Manehattan, and it wasn’t easy to get in. Not for LDs, though: black uniforms and insignia in the shape of stars and comets seemed to be a sure pass. Even now, there were glimpses of caps with cockades in the shape of the crest – or a crescent moon for ponice officers.

The standartenhoofer had a silver club card, which gave discounts on booze and served as admission to all but private parties. It also allowed him to bring along a guest, which Greg decided to take advantage of.

Just the day before yesterday, he had given Erwin the text of a new cipher at the club. And today the gray pony was going to have a conversation that wasn’t part of Tempest’s assignment – but Mellow needed it. Like a cure for a lingering pain.

Finding the right pony had been easy. Greg had remembered the name and, more importantly, the place of employment – at least three months back – and had used the power of an LD officer to send a messenger to the Manehattan commandant’s office with a letter for one of the employees. If he was no longer working there, it was necessary to find out where he had been transferred. But there was no need: the returning private reported that he had delivered the letter right into the hooves.

Greg could only hope that the receiver would get the meaning right and not mistake the invitation for a drink as a friendly gesture for the sake of recruiting. Especially since the gray pony already had a candidate to bring into the operation.

With the same letters LD and two stars on his collar.

And this pony would at least have to justify himself. No, beg Greg for leniency. Though… then the “standartenhoofer” wouldn’t let him get away with what he had done. Better just to confess.

There he is, Mellow thought as he saw the fidgety, winged figure approaching his table. The snitch who got off with a ticket for drunk driving.

“Evening, Standartenhoofer,” the light brown pegasus saluted as he approached and sat down across from him. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Unterhoofer Lazy Hack, right?” Greg asked coldly, looking at him through his drink.

“Y-yes, and what?”

“What were you doing on the evening of Nivose second with Consited Jacanapes and Stratospheres Dropper?”

“I… uh… that…”

The pegasus was stunned and stared at Greg with round eyes.

Greg put down his glass and waited for an answer.

Suddenly, Lazy clenched his teeth and jumped up, hitting the floor with his hoof.

“I knew this was a trap…!”

“Sit down,” Mellow said icily. “Or you’ll spend the night in the Lunar Chancellery. I’ve heard the cellars there are very comfortable…”

Lazy rocked back and forth for a moment, then flopped back down onto the banquette. In an instant, he seemed to shrink, as if all the air had been taken out of him.

“What do you want?” he asked in a low voice. “Money? An apology? A confession?!”

“All of the above and no bread,” Greg snorted. “And just to look you in the eye, you piece of shit. You sent your best friend and your uncle straight to the front…”

“What was I supposed to do?” Lazy yelled, standing up abruptly and slapping his hooves on the table. Mellow noticed the ponies starting to look at them. “Do I have to go to jail for company?! Besides, I was really just driving the car, it was Dropper who bashed that patrolman’s head in…”

Daddy, it’s not me, it’s Randy…! It was his idea to watch the rain, I had nothing to do with it…!

“Sit down!” Greg barked, and the pegasus shut up and sank back into his seat. “I’m sick of looking at you… Do you even know what happened to them, you scum?!”

“What?” Leisy looked up. “They—”

“Don’t pretend to care about their lives, I’ll never believe you. Your uncle’s fine… as fine as he can be. He was wounded by a shrapnel in Canterlot, but one of the soldiers carried him to the hospital. Dropper was sent to the rear, but he’ll soon be back at the front – and apparently with the rank of Hauptmann. His dream of fighting for the Republic has come true, albeit not in the way he originally intended.”

“How do you know that?” The pegasus looked at the earth pony in bewilderment.

Oops, that was a slip-up… But who is he to demand an explanation from Danfel?

“Talked to the commissars of his regiment. Believe me, I have ways to get that kind of information. And if I wanted to,” Greg’s voice dropped to a loud whisper, “I could even find out what you had for breakfast this morning and the dakimakura with the picture of which pony you’re fucking.”

Lazy was about to roll under the table.

“But… how did you know about the dakima—”

“I can tell from you that no mare’s gonna let you in. If she has any brains left.”

“Tell me… what was the name of the soldier who took my uncle out? Just so I know who to thank.”

“Private Greg Mellow,” said the gray pony. “But don’t bother, he went over to the enemy right after that. And he’d even shown up at the meeting of the three whores in Crystal City at the end of Ventose.”

“What a jerk!” Lazy said with emotion. “How on earth do bastards like that—” Suddenly his face was worried again. “How’s Consy?”

“He’s dead,” Mellow said, looking into the pegasus’ eyes. “The Equestrians’ attack had frightened him so much that he had decided to surrender on the battlefield. But he didn’t have time. He was slaughtered by a thestral from his and Dropper’s squad. And then your friend was ripped to shreds by the tracks of an Equestrian tank.”

Greg leaned closer.

“And it was all your fault. Only yours. Think about it. But I don’t want to see you in the capital,” he tapped the table, “ever more. Or I’ll contact the Gestaponies and ask them to send the case for review. You can even go to the front yourself. Although…” the stallion curled his lips scornfully, “you’d hardly help anyone there either. You’d better go and surrender to rid the Republic of yourself.”

The gray pony stood up and took a last look at Lazy. The pegasus stared into the void, his hooves wrapped around his head.

“Pay the bill,” Greg hissed. “Consider it a fine for wasting my time, you brat.”

He walked out of the club, feeling the pain in his soul replace the disgust he felt for Lazy and himself.

Am I really that much of an asshole now?

April 9.

Aphelion to Jupiter

Keep stalling. Then you can just tell N.S. that the trail was a bust.

The NLR spy network has been uncovered. Efforts are underway to locate and free F.L.

No recruiting. Five days to devise a plan. Execution time is the night of the 15th. Eight of our agents will be with you. Another will be given a package of documents.

The safe house address is 9 Bloom Street, fifth floor, right door. If there is a flower on the window, you have failed. There is a bottle of remover in the bathroom, as well as mane and coat dye. You will go to the operation in civilian clothes and with your real appearance. Take as much paperwork out of the institute as possible, destroy equipment and bodies.

Next, try to learn more about Projects 1 and 2 from the previous post.

MLRS is “Multiple Launch Rocket System.” Probably some kind of new weapon.

Be careful. A.W. may have made the surveillance less conspicuous and may have wired the house and car. Beware of the Hoofbeats: there is nothing to stop LC-IV from having full control of the place, too.

Keep the bucking secrecy.

The first thunderstorm of the year was raging over Manehattan.

Streams of water rained down from the sky onto the pavement, dimly lit by streetlights. Wires swayed in the wind over rooftops, and the windows of houses rattled. Well, if there wasn’t enough noise from the rain, the rolling thunder muffled conversations even more than the techno from the club’s dance floor.

The weather department’s a little overzealous, Greg thought, looking out of the alleyway at the Medical Institute looming on the corner. May be a good thing for us, though.

The building was only two stories high, but it was larger than even the Lunar Chancellery. Greg remembered that it had once been someone’s mansion where no one had ever really lived, but after the events of November, the owner had apparently stayed in Celestial Equestria, so the huge house had been turned over to Lunenerbe. And they were already having a lot of fun there.

The entrance to the institute was guarded by two LDs with submachine guns: a unicorn and an earth pony. They were supposed to be walking back and forth, keeping the porch clear of intruders, but because of the heavy rain overhead, they were standing on the top step between the columns, protected by a wide canopy. Greg could even make out the light of someone’s cigarette.

Tempest had obviously chosen a good time for the operation. But it was no wonder: the weather schedule was still published openly here, as it was in every other city. Any infiltrated agent could have leaked it to the other side of the front.

I wonder if it could be one of them. Greg looked back at the group of eight ponies crammed into the narrow alleyway with him. Nopony would tell me anything, though. Sadly, as always.

All of them, like Greg himself, wore black clothing and masks; under the thin jackets, armor was visible. The stallion didn’t know the agents’ names or what they looked like. They wouldn’t have recognized him either: Mellow had doused himself with remover at the safe house and waited half an hour for the waterproof dye to come off his coat and mane before heading to the rendezvous point. There was no flower on the window, so it was safe to be there. As for Violet, he had told her he would be working late and would probably stay there overnight.

He had parked his car – a black Marecedes with vanity plates – in a yard a few blocks away. It was not that difficult to drive; he just had to remember the clutch pedal all the time. But he didn’t want to go to the safe house on wheels, because there might be tracking amulets in the car. Erwin had scanned the vehicle with a special spell a few days ago and found nothing, but Mellow decided to be on the safe side anyway.

But he was worried for nothing. A couple of blocks away from the meeting place was a Gestapony van, brought in by the agents for a quick getaway. Such a car would not be stopped and checked, and if anything happened, it would not hurt to get rid of it.

At first there were nine ponies in black. But when one of them stretched a hoof after the password, Greg realized that it was a courier and gave him a package with the documents from the archive transcribed from memory, after which “Mr. Incognito” disappeared into the darkness.

Gathered like a bunch of conspirators, the stallion thought as he took another look at the ominous-looking building. Yeah, well, conspirators we are indeed. Only our goals are not the same as usual.

“How long gonna wait, Gray?” Wedge asked in a hoarse whisper, holding his rifle. “And most importantly, for whom?”

“The helper,” Greg replied, retreating deeper into the alley. “He’s the one who got us the plans of the building, and he also told me something about the security of the place. Besides, this way we can test him on the real thing.”

“And if he brings the Gestaponies with him?” growled Barge, who was much bulkier than the others. “You’ve thought of that?”

“Then he’ll be dead. I found out where he lives, so it won’t be a problem to find him and make him choke on an apple.”

Actually no, but who’s gonna check? The important thing is that at least my voice hasn’t wavered.

“Quiet. Someone’s coming,” Wedge whispered, pointing his rifle toward the street.

Greg pricked up his ears. Indeed, there was a soft clatter of hooves on the sidewalk, as if someone was walking slowly in search of a particular house.

Or an alleyway.

Everyone held their breath as a dark silhouette appeared in the passage. For a few seconds it seemed to stare into the darkness, then a spark of light flickered on the tip of its horn…

A hoof grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him under the archway. Another leg slammed down on the horn, breaking the spell and clamping his mouth shut.

“Silence”, Mellow’s voice came in his ear. “Are you sure nopony’s behind you?”

The unicorn gave a little shake of his head.

“A Gestapony!” Barge hissed, and eight guns were pointed at Greg and the unterhoofer. “Do you realize who you’ve brought here?! He’s gonna sell us all out!”

“I don’t think so,” Mellow grinned and let go of the unicorn. The latter staggered, but unlike last time, he stood up on all four legs with confidence. “Meet Unterhoofer Swift Snow, my eyes and ears in the Fourth Department… and right now, a hostage.”

“Hey, we’re not talking about this—” Snow objected, but shut up when the muzzle of Wedge’s rifle jammed into his mouth.

“If you move, I’ll shoot you. If you’ve brought the cops, too. Come with us; any wrong turn or run, and you’ll get a bullet. Understand?”

The unterhoofer nodded frantically.

Of course, Greg thought, with that ‘catheter’ in his throat…

Wedge hummed contentedly and pulled the barrel out of Snow’s mouth, then grimaced under his mask and squeamishly wiped the weapon on his jacket sleeve.

“Well…” Mellow looked around at the nine dark, armed figures. “Let’s go, then?”

The guard’s cigarette gave off light only a few inches around, but it still served as an excellent beacon. And the noise of the rain successfully masked the hoofbeats.

The small shells, carefully launched by telekinesis, hit the marble with a light thud.

“Wait, did you hear that?”

The cigarette light was obscured by a translucent haze, and two bodies fell onto the porch. The sleeping gas grenades had worked perfectly.

Blurry shadows leapt to the fallen guards and dragged them to the bushes, where they lay them down, having tied them up first. And then a group of ten ponies lined up outside the tall doors of the building, all their weapons pointed forward.

Except for the two who stood in the middle, under the cover of the side groups. One of them still had a pistol in its holster.

We’ll have to shoot everyone out there on sight, the one in front thought. But this is war. The same one that’s raging from Whinnyapolis to Hoofington right now. And there’s no way they don’t realize it. Maybe they’re not aware of everything that’s going on inside the Institute, and they’re just following orders. Whereas I’m making a choice.

“Let’s go,” he breathed, pointing his hoof at the door.

Lightning flashed and with a roar of thunder, the sluggish current of the night exploded with movement.

The doors swung open in a flash and the group burst into the building, leaping over the turnstiles. The Gestaponies at the entrance had no time to think before they were riddled with rifles and pistols. One of the gunmen crouched on the floor by the console. He pulled out a knife and cut the wire to the panic button.

Gunshots rang through the spacious, bright lobby. Somewhere in the distance, they heard the thumping of hooves galloping toward the attack site.

“Split up!” Greg shouted, turning to his team. “You three go to the second floor! Look for any papers there! The rest of you, follow me. Don’t shoot anypony unarmed. Okay, move out.”

After tossing a few more sleeping gas bombs into the side corridors, they headed for the main corridor, where barely a third of the mercury bulbs on the ceiling were lit.

Suddenly, the tip of a barrel peeked out from behind the door, and a burst of gunfire pierced the air.

“Get back!”

Everyone sprang to the sides and hid behind the square pillars holding up the ceiling. Bullets flew from the corridor again, shattering pieces of marble.

“Keep down!” Barge yelled from the left.

Greg turned toward him. The bulky stallion hoisted a thick pipe over his shoulder, its nozzle aimed at the door.

A grenade launcher?! But how…

Greg didn’t have time to finish the thought.

The pipe fired, and the whole place was covered in smoke. But the rumble of the explosion sounded as if through a thick membrane. Looking over his shoulder, Mellow saw that Snow had a pinkish spark on the end of his horn, apparently a soundproofing spell.

The gray pony nodded gratefully – and stepped out from behind the pillar, drawing a pistol from his holster.

The group burst into a cloud of smoke. The floor was littered with burning door debris and motionless bodies. The sight of flesh torn apart by the blast made Greg want to vomit, but he got over it. He remembered that he hadn’t eaten for half a day before he’d gone out on this mission.

“Come on,” he whispered, coughing from the smoke. “No point staying here any longer.”

After the rest of the passage, the seven ponies found themselves in the main corridor that ran parallel to the lobby on either side.

The whiteness of the walls and floor made his eyes water, and Greg shook his head. This isn’t the hospital in Canterlot, he reminded himself. There’s no mint-green unicorn playing the lyre. Just blinding lights, mutilated test subjects and psychotic doctors.

And just as he thought that, an elderly unicorn wearing glasses and a lab coat came running out of an office.

“Who are you?” he shrieked in a falsetto. “Who let you in here?! Guards…!”

Performing his signature trick of gagging a pony with his rifle, Wedge silenced him.

“Listen to me,” the agent growled through his mask. “Now you come with us – quietly! – and open all the doors. If you try anything stupid, or if we just don’t like it, you know what happens. Well?!”

The doctor just grunted in response.

“Go, you bastard!” Wedge didn’t deny himself the pleasure of kicking him in the bony butt.

“I… I don’t understand what you want to find here…” the doctor mumbled as he unlocked the next door. “We are doing peaceful research… here, look!”

He touched a switch with his magic and stepped aside.

The doorway revealed the interior of a typical laboratory. Complex synthesis machines and microscopes stood on tables, and in the back were shelves stacked with rows of test tubes filled with colorful liquids. However, Greg still got goosebumps at the mere sight of them.

I hope this retard doesn’t throw them in our faces. I wouldn’t be surprised if some ancient viruses were being cultured here.

Meanwhile, the group moved on.

The doctor selected the next key from the bunch, inserted it into the lock, turned it… and, swinging the door open, jumped aside with a yell, “Activation!”

And fell, cut down by one of the agents’ submachine guns.

“Fuck!” Barge swore. “What the hay did he just launch in there…?”

In the next second, the answer came tumbling out into the corridor.

Greg’s blood ran cold. Even though he’d already been sickened by the reports of the horrible experiments (fortunately almost all of them without pictures), he’d never seen the results himself.

The earth pony with the prosthetic left foreleg turned his face to the group.

It would have been better if he had not.

His skin was hanging in ugly shreds from his cheeks and forehead, and a magic crystal glowed red where an eye used to be.

The mutant opened his mouth and roared, but at least a dozen bullets pierced his head, and he collapsed to the floor. Brownish blood ran down the white marble. The red light in his eye faded, then went out.

There were strange sounds behind Greg’s back, and he turned around.

Unterhoofer Swift Snow was vomiting, his hoof resting on the wall.

“What the fuck is this?” Someone in the group poked the corpse with a hoof. “They… they were… turning their own soldiers into… this?!”

“Watch out!”

Suddenly, the lying pony’s red eye flashed again. The “corpse” rose abruptly and snapped his teeth, ripping the agent’s leg off in an instant. The agent collapsed to the floor, screaming in pain.

Three more mutants came out of the room behind the first one.

Barge’s grenade launcher thundered, and the subjects were scattered to either side. There were wires and metal fibers sticking out of the pieces of their torn bodies.

“How many of them are there…” Wedge muttered, reloading his rifle.

Holding the barrel to the head of the agent writhing on the floor, one of his comrades pulled the trigger. The convulsions stopped instantly.

“What are you doing?!” Greg exclaimed. “He’d be—”

“—a nuisance to us in battle and in retreat,” was the answer. “And if they’d caught him, he’d have given away all the names and passwords. Maybe they’d turn him into a monster too.”

A siren wailed and the overhead lights flashed red. Then all the doors swung open, and more monsters crawled into the corridor.

“There!” Snow shouted, pointing with his hoof.

Mellow looked back, and his mane stood on end.

Three unicorns were charging at them, shooting bolts of magic from their horns, protected by a common force field that shimmered purple in the air.

The corridor exploded with gunfire and shouts. Greg clenched his pistol in his teeth, but a powerful blow knocked the gray pony onto his back. The gun clattered to the floor and bounced to the side.

Greg looked up. A pegasus… or rather what had once been a pegasus, was staring at him with animal hatred. A heavy hoof slammed into his jaw, knocking the back of his head to the floor.

Through the veil of tears, the gray pony saw the wing, made up of folded metal sections with pointed tips, swing up and swoop straight for his throat… slowly… slo-o-owly… sssllloooowwwlllyyyy…

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

His right cheek stung sharply – and then it was as if a hydraulic press had been removed from his chest and the sound of a body falling beside him.

Blinking, Greg saw Snow standing nearby. Two pistols, his and Mellow’s, were floating in the unicorn’s telekinetic field, and the unterhoofer was looking at his companion with concern.

“Snow, look out…!”

Greg rolled over and knocked the Gestapony off his hooves. The body of another mutant pegasus landed like a missile where they had just been.

There was no time to think. Climbing out from under the fallen Snow, Mellow glanced sideways for a weapon.

On the floor, near the body of one of the agents, lay a rifle.

Without a second’s hesitation, Greg grabbed the new Lavender and fired all the remaining bullets into the face of the monster that had turned towards them.

Blinded, the subject roared and lunged past, his hooves pressing against his bloody face. At that moment, Snow sprang up and emptied both pistols into the back of his head. The pegasus fell to the floor and never moved again.

Greg took a breath and touched his own cheek with a hoof. The fur on his leg immediately turned red. So I got him after all. And he could blow my head off with a wing like that if he wanted to.

“At the base of the neck!” shouted the unterhoofer to the others. “That’s where they’re vulnerable!”

Belatedly, though.

Two more earth ponies lay bleeding on the floor, their necks twisted unnaturally. Two of the three unicorns had been blown apart by a rocket-propelled grenade, and Barge was now fighting hoof to hoof with the third. Greg was relieved to see that all three had their horns broken off at the root.

“Hah!”

Barge wriggled and with a swipe of his hind legs slammed the last of the test subjects against the wall. Wedge leapt to them and, clutching a knife in his teeth, plunged the blade into the base of the unicorn’s skull.

Everything came to a halt. None of the opponents were moving anymore. Only the siren continued to wail under the flashing reddish light, making it seem as if the corridor walls, floor and ceiling were all smeared with blood.

Greg looked around – and could barely keep himself from cursing.

Only four of the seven who had stayed on the ground floor had survived: Mellow himself, Wedge, Barge and Snow. The latter was apparently trying to pry open the door at the end of the corridor.

“Holy shit…” Barge said as he looked at the corpses. “Guys, how’s that, huh…?”

Then he shook his head and looked up at Greg with a sigh.

“Alright. To Discord, all of it. Let’s just blow this place up and get the fuck outta here.”

“There’s a basement!” Snow shouted.

The unicorn stood at the open door, waving his hoof at everyone.

Barge grunted and spat, then headed off first. Greg paused to reload his pistol.

As the gray pony approached the last of the survivors, he sucked in air through clenched teeth.

If those freaks could keep such monsters on the ground, what’s waiting for us underneath? Fuck it… But we have to deal with it. Make one less piece of Tartarus in Equestria. And we will do it, no matter what.

I will. Because it’s the choice I’ve made.

The stairwell was half-dark. But the siren’s monotonous howl no longer reached here, and the light of sparse lamps was cold and white. They seemed to use enchanted crystals instead of chemical tubes.

After two flights of stairs, the fighters found themselves at another door.

“Step asi-i-ide…!” Barge pointed his grenade launcher at the door again.

“Wait,” Snow said suddenly, going to the door and pulling out a set of keys with magic, apparently taken from the mad doctor’s corpse.

The huge earth pony clucked his tongue, slung the grenade launcher onto his back and switched to the rifle around his neck.

Half a minute later, all four of them were entering the inner sanctum of Lunenerbe’s lair.

A few yards ahead, the bright corridor was blocked by some kind of transparent curtain cut into strips. As soon as the door closed behind the last of the group, jets of cold steam suddenly shot from the walls.

“Ahhhhh!!! What the—” Barge roared, trying to shield himself from the damp suspension that filled the air.

“Calm down, it’s just disinfectant,” Snow said, shaking himself off and stepping through the curtain. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time already.”

The others followed him through the transparent strips of unknown material.

This corridor was more than half as long as the one on the ground floor, but there were almost as many doors with small square windows. There seemed to be tiny rooms behind them.

And at the opposite end was the Door.

Greg gulped as he saw the huge steel rectangle with the valve lock. Behind it was definitely what the whole place had been built for. Something worth half a floor for.

“Well, how do we get there?” Wedge muttered, expressing everyone’s question.

Suddenly, a lock clicked on one of the doors and everyone turned in that direction.

A blue unicorn mare with a tousled white mane stepped out into the corridor, yawning. Her mark was a lilac crescent moon and a wand on it.

As soon as she saw the four barrels pointed at her, her sleep was gone in an instant. “What—”

Barge shoved the unicorn sharply into the room, where everyone else had immediately squeezed in. Wedge slammed the door shut and watched the corridor through the window.

Greg glanced around the small cubbyhole. Apart from the bare plastered walls, there was only a narrow couch, a desk and a chair buried under a pile of papers and files. A brightly colored corner of a paperback book peeked out from under the cushion.

Typical dwelling of an employee of an establishment like this.

Barge sat the unicorn down on the couch and aimed his rifle at her dazed face.

“Who are you?! What are you doing here?” he growled. “Speak up!”

“Wait a moment…” Snow said and quickly snapped a locking ring on the mare’s horn. “That’s it, now you can talk.”

“Tr-rixie…” the unicorn whimpered. “G-great… and Powerful…”

“Dr. Beatrix Lulamoon?” Greg guessed. “The supervisor of the Project Steelpony?”

“Y-yes…” The mare stared at him. “And h-how you—”

“What. Are. You. Researching here?”

Instead of answering, the unicorn burst into tears.

“Answer him!” Barge swung at her for a punch, but Snow caught his hoof with a magical field.

“Let me do this. I think I can do better.”

The huge stallion just waved his hoof, almost knocking Greg’s head off in the small space. “Do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

Snow took a seat on the couch next to Trixie and wrapped his leg gently around her shoulders. “Please don’t be afraid. Just tell me what you’re doing. I promise, we won’t hurt you… if you obey us, of course.”

“We’re… making a s-super-powerful p-pony,” the unicorn said, sniffling. “A univers-sal s-soldier… With a h-horn and w-wings…”

“An alicorn?!” Barge’s eyes bulged.

“Yes… a-and… usual ones… Strengthen the body and… m-magic…”

“Now I see where all those monsters above came from,” Wedge said. Turning back to the unicorn, he added, “Forget about them. They’re dead. Fortunately.”

“No!” Trixie shrieked and jumped up from the couch, but Snow gently put her back down. “You’re not… Our project! We’ve put so much effort in it…!”

“And pony lives!” interrupted Barge. “How many more were you willing to maim to achieve your goal?! And many of them had families! They weren’t just pieces of meat you could plug crystals and wires into and hope they’d walk again! Do you have any idea what you morons have done?!”

Trixie was pathetic to look at.

It was as if she was trying to crawl away from Barge as he loomed over her, but she only pressed her back harder and harder into the wall. Her eyes widened with new tears at his words and her lower lip trembled.

“Tr… Tr-rixie just… d-did what she was told…”

“You all do what you’re told,” Barge said, turning away. “And think you’ve found the perfect excuse. Like, it wasn’t your fault, it was someone else up there…” He shook his head. “What a shame… Just not a ruthless state machine, but a pizza delivery…”

“What’s this?” Greg asked suddenly, and everyone turned to look at him.

The gray pony was standing at the head of the couch, looking at a book he had pulled out from under the cushion.

On the cover was an ominous-looking building surrounded by clouds and lightnings. The title in big red letters read: “The Bloody Rainbow. All the Shocking Truth About the Cloudsdale Weather Factory.” At the bottom was the author’s name, Wooden Toaster.

“Another piece of propagandist bullshit,” Wedge snorted, looking over Greg’s shoulder. “Just like these Lunazis make.”

“Wooden Toaster, he’s Glaze,” Trixie said, fluttering her eyelids. “Don’t you know Glaze?”

This name was familiar to Greg.

Glaze had been the second announcer and DJ on Radio Nox in the Lunar Republic, after Vinyl Scratch. As he’d once said on a talk broadcast, he’d grown up in Cloudsdale and even worked in the weather factory for a while. And as he put it, he’d witnessed such horrors there that he moved to Manehattan immediately after the Revolution, where he could finally talk about it without fear of arrest.

If Celestia can eat foals in the minds of these retards, then really – why not slaughter teenage pegasi for rainbows? Mellow snorted and tossed the book away squeamishly. Perhaps this Glaze has something to do with the sordid clopfics about the Princess of Equestria and her entourage being spread by the lowbrow papers…? I wouldn’t be surprised, though.

“I wish we didn’t,” he said coldly, and wiped his hoof on his jacket, feeling the thick armor plating beneath. “What’s behind that door at the end of the corridor?”

“There’s… our ‘Prototype Zero,’” Trixie replied in a strained voice. “The stallion… Tr-rixie found him once… lying unconscious by the wagon when… um… hiding from the events of last fall… But we were caught and… given a choice: either work for them or…” She sobbed again. “Or be killed. And… Tr-rixie agreed. They took us to Manehattan, and Trixie took some courses and got her doctor’s degree… Since then, Trixie’s been living in this basement and… p-perfecting that pony.”

“How do you open that door?”

“There’s a magic lock. Trixie has to s-send an impulse and the crystal will recognize her energy.”

“So you’re coming with us,” Barge said. “Get her out.”

“What? No… how dare you… Ah!”

Wedge, who had started to pull Trixie off the couch, couldn’t take it any longer and slapped her. It worked: the unicorn was distracted and allowed herself to be dragged towards the exit. There she began to flail again, and Wedge slammed her face against the door before pushing her out into the corridor.

Greg turned away. Inside him burned the desire to put the agent in her place, but he realized it would look odd right now and only waste valuable time.

We mustn’t stoop to such lowliness. Never.

He was the last to leave, following Swift Snow. Wedge and Barge had already dragged the sluggishly resisting Trixie towards the huge steel door. A trail of blood from the mare’s broken nose ran across the floor.

She pointed her horn at an inconspicuous opening in the huge door and, concentrating, shot a small white spark into it.

The red light on the side of the door turned green, and immediately there was a grinding sound. The door began to move aside.

“Thanks for your help,” Snow said as he approached the mare. “And now—”

She jerked to get away, but the unterhoofer caught her with his telekinesis. Then he deftly placed a blocking ring on her horn and pulled two pairs of shackles from somewhere.

“These are to keep you from escaping.”

“Celestia has mercy…” came Barge’s whispered voice.

He, Wedge, and Greg stood at the threshold of the great hall that contained what Lunenerbe was so eager to hide.

The walls were lined with large tanks filled with variously colored, murky liquids. And in them floated the bodies of ponies – some seemingly intact, but mostly mutilated or cut into pieces. Greg was sickened by the sight of a heart, unconnected to anything, beating rhythmically in the green slurry.

And in the center of the room, “Prototype Zero” was placed on a pedestal.

It used to be the body of a pale red stallion with a brown mane. However, now he resembled anything but a normal pony. Instead of eyes like the monsters on the first floor, he had crystals, but of a yellowish hue. Wires and steel cores protruded from the flesh all over his body.

But that wasn’t all.

On the forehead of the “prototype” there was a cap hidden by fur – obviously a horn was supposed to extend from there. On his back, there were steel wings made of plates and placed in deliberately made cavities.

And on the floor near the pedestal sat a unicorn – a technician, apparently – working on the matrices around him, from which wires ran to the half-disassembled head of the alicorn.

When the technician turned at the sound of the door, he jumped up and stared at them.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAArrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!” someone suddenly yelled.

Past Greg and the others, Snow charged with a submachine gun in his teeth.

Dozens of bullets hit the walls of the tanks. The hall filled with the rattle of gunfire and clinking glass. Puddles of chemicals began to spread across the floor.

Snow dropped his weapon and slumped to the floor, then rested his forehead on his hooves and shook with sobs.

“Aaah, you bitches! You’ll pay for this!” shouted the technician.

His horn glowed brightly, and with a face contorted with rage, he unleashed magic into the matrices connected to the “prototype.”

A shot rang out, and the unicorn fell to the ground. A bullet from Wedge’s rifle found his head.

But it was too late.

The red pony’s eyes glowed yellow. A horn emerged from his forehead, and his wings spread out like a deadly metallic blanket, enchanted crystals glittering in their sockets.

The monster’s mouth opened, and a low, almost infrasound roar rumbled through the room, causing everyone to cover their ears and fall to the floor. The “alicorn’s” horn burst into flames, and the clamps that held his massive body to the ground shattered with a clang.

And then… out of the monster came music.

Greg’s jaw dropped at the absurdity of what was happening.

The sounds flowing from somewhere inside the mechanized head were distorted by interference like a bad turntable, and the melody itself was composed as if by DJ Pon-3. At least Mellow couldn’t think of any other instrument that could make that sound than her console with buttons and vinyls.

The red pony flapped his wings and soared up. Hovering below the high ceiling, he spotted the stunned, dazed agents with his magical eyes – and swooped down on them, blazing his horn to attack.

Everyone immediately jumped aside; Barge had time to fire his rifle a few times at the monster. The “prototype” made a sharp turn just above the floor and fired magic at the stallion. The only thing that saved Barge was that he slipped on the chemical sludge and fell down. The impulse that flew directly over his head shattered one of the surviving tanks.

Meanwhile, the monster… began to sing, preparing for another attack.

I wish I was a mobile supercomputer,
A breakthrough of the future…

Greg fired twice, aiming for the back of his head. The “alicorn” turned and sent a blast of energy at the gray pony, but Greg dodged, and the magic hit the wall. Shards of stone and crumbling plaster flew everywhere.

With the dissected harmony,
I’ll get rid of my mortality…

Meanwhile, the “prototype” turned his attention to Wedge, who was firing at him from behind some technical equipment. In one fell swoop, the red pony blew the machine apart with a burst of magic. Wedge rushed away – only to be slammed to the ground by telekinesis and sliced in half by the sharpened ends of the steel feathers. A pool of blood quickly spread beneath the shredded body.

Slashing the flesh and strengthening the bone,
Embrace this sparkling mesh, this power’s all my own…

Greg jumped onto the monster’s back. With his hooves on the wings, he grabbed his pistol with his mouth and fired the remaining bullets into the base of the alicorn’s skull.

Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham!

The bullets just bounced off the metal plate with a tinkling sound.

Mellow’s eyes widened in horror.

An incredible force lifted him into the air and hurled him across the room to the far wall.

His back hitting the stone blew the air from his lungs and tears streamed from his eyes. Mellow slid down the wall to the floor, feeling the taste of blood in his mouth.

All these my simple parts are interchangeable,
Infinite neural linkings when you’re digital…

With one eye half open, Greg blinked and looked out at the battlefield.

Barge and Snow were racing around the hall, fleeing from the monster’s attacks. The thick pipe of the grenade launcher swayed back and forth on Barge’s back, slowing him down.

Another magical volley sent the big guy tumbling to the floor, bellyflopping through a liquid with a foul, pungent smell. Only Barge’s natural strength and endurance allowed him to jump up immediately and keep running.

Acquiring might with wires is sensational.
Take out any old and put in the new…

“Gimme a grenade!” Snow suddenly shouted.

“What for?!”

“Gimme it! Now!”

All was drowned again in the roar and blinding flash of magic.

When Greg regained his sight, he clenched his teeth and groaned.

Snow lay on the floor, crushed by the monster’s leg. Blood spurted from under the steel-reinforced hoof. The “alicorn” seemed to be trampling the unterhoofer’s chest from within.

My hunger for perfection is unquenchable,
A prototype completely operational…

A faint smile spread across Snow’s bloodied face. And then he lifted something with his trembling hoof.

A grenade. Without a safety pin.

The monster’s yellow eyes blinked in bewilderment. But with all his strength and reaction time, he still didn’t have time to do anything.

The explosion caused Greg to cover his head with his hooves, which had been hit by a few splinters. His ears hurt from the rumble. Unable to hear even himself, the gray pony coughed and opened one eye.

The “prototype” was hovering a few feet above the floor. The monster’s front legs had been completely torn off, hind legs up to the knees, and his face and belly skinned, revealing a mess of raw, bleeding flesh and protruding bones embedded in a metal frame and entangled with synthetic sinews. The explosion had scraped a good third of the steel “feathers” from the wings, but the power of the crystals was still enough to keep the “alicorn” in the air.

All that was left of Unterhoofer Swift Snow was a bloody stain and his entrails scattered all over the floor.

Greg turned away and vomited bile.

I’m sorry, Snow. And thanks for everything. You must have realized something far more important than anything I thought before.

This armored alloy shell is impenetrable…

And at that moment, the “alicorn” was struck by a grenade launcher shot.

When the smoke cleared, all that remained of the red pony was his head, which produced a faint crackling sound.

My ex…tence is indisp…sable…

Bang! It was Barge who fired a bullet into the monster’s eye.

“Now, you’re banned from Equestria, bitch.” The stallion spat and walked over to Greg. “You alright there?”

“Guess I am…”

Mellow coughed, spitting up blood. Then, staggering, he slowly stood up.

His insides were on fire and his back felt as if it had been stabbed with a hundred or two needles, but he kept relatively steady on his hooves. The gray pony decided that he would surely make it to the van.

Barge reached into his large saddlebag and pulled out a bomb, a bundle of explosives with crystals attached.

“I think I’ll put this one here and the rest upstairs to bring down this shithole…”

He tossed the bomb in the air with his mighty hoof, trying it out, and then threw it upwards. The special velcro caught on the ceiling and the crystals on it glowed softly.

“Now off we go.” Barge pulled Greg towards the exit. “We gotta take this cunt with us, or she’ll die… Let’s go, Gray. There’s nothing left for us to do here.”

The walk back to the giant door was longer than it had been from the front lines to the field hospital when Mellow had been carrying Dropper on his back. It turned out to be an enormous effort to move his legs. He tried not to choke on the smells of gunpowder, chemicals, blood, and death.

But as soon as he stepped out into the corridor, he breathed easier, and his mind cleared. The goal was clear: get out of the basement, leave the building, wait for the detonation and get to the van. Barge and the agents sent upstairs would be responsible for the explosion and stuff.

Trixie was at the far end, by the door to the stairs. Restrained on her front and back legs, she could do little more than crawl on her belly. Now, propped up, she tried to turn the doorknob with her teeth. She glanced fearfully at the two survivors as they came into view.

“You’re coming with us.” Barge lifted her with a single tug and dragged her along by the chain that bound her forelegs. “Your fate will be decided by a tribunal.”

Trixie didn’t answer, just cried quietly.

They made their way out into the ground floor corridor. Barge hoofed Greg the bag of bombs, and the gray pony stuck them on the walls as high as he could. Trixie shuddered at the sight of the corpses – and this time Mellow couldn’t blame her for that.

On the way to the lobby, however, it became clear that the operation had been off track for quite some time.

It seemed that the three Greg had sent up to get the documents had searched the place and come back down when the “law and order” forces arrived.

One of them was lying on the floor with his head bashed in, while the other two were shooting from the doorway, apparently from the ponice who had arrived. A bag of papers lay nearby.

“Where the hay you guys been?” yelled one of the agents. “Another minute and we’d have run out of ammo—”

“Who gives a shit…” Barge waved away, shoved Trixie into Greg’s hooves and took the grenade launcher off his back. “Run, I’ll catch up!”

No one had to be persuaded.

As he raced back toward the main corridor with Trixie at his heels, Mellow looked back with concern at the mighty figure of the stallion covering their escape. Perched on his haunches, the bulky pony displayed his infernal weapon from behind the shattered doors, and then there was an explosion and screams.

“Is there a back door?” one of the agents carrying the bag of documents asked as the group of four burst into the scene of the recent fight with the mutants.

“Should be…” Greg replied, looking around at the rows of doors. “Okay, I think this way.”

This door was different from the others, at least in that it was double and directly opposite the lobby. As luck would have it, it was locked, but one of the ponies in black kicked it open at a run.

“If Great Trixie had a free horn, she could have done this herself,” the unicorn mare muttered.

The attackers sprinted through the dark vestibule and out into the street.

The storm was over, and the thunder no longer drowned out the gunfire. Huge puddles formed underhoof, but what was water compared to blood and chemicals? Greg even scooped up from a puddle and wiped his face with his hoof, washing away the dried blood on his cheek.

The cool of the night finally refreshed his brain. The adrenaline circulating in his blood ebbed, and Greg’s knees trembled again.

Barge jumped out the back door, dragging a grenade launcher and three rifles he had picked up from the dead.

“Run!” yelled the bulky stallion. “It’s gonna blow!”

The five ponies had just made it to the backyard fence when the majestic building lit up from within with the flashes of the explosions – and then began to collapse.

In one fell swoop, Barge tore through a section of the grate and was the first to leap into the nearest street. He was followed by the agents with the papers and Greg with Trixie.

“Go, go, go!”

Nearby, a black van with a purple emblem glowed in the darkness.

A horn and wings – how bloody familiar.

Everyone climbed into the spacious interior, and Barge hopped into the driver’s seat. The engine roared and the van rolled down the street, away from the collapsing building.

Greg was staring out the back window, the gray pony’s eyes reflecting the glow of the flames.

[1] Thanks to Hans Zimmer for his masterpiece soundtrack to the movie Inception.

[2] The various departments of the Lunar Chancellery:
I – personnel and organizational matters;
II – administration and finance;
III – internal security;
IV – Gestapony – secret ponice;
V – criminal ponice;
VI – external security – ponitical intelligence;
VII – reference and documentation service;
the Lunabwehr – military department.

Chapter Eight. Escalation

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!

Chapter One. The Chains of Darkness

December 1007 – January 1008

Greg waited a long time to get arrested.

Every day when he came home from working in the disgusting office of Four Stars Transportation Company, he always went to the window and looked out at Manehattan, which stretched for miles around.

The same buildings – residential high-rises and office skyscrapers – still lined the streets and avenues as a few months before; the same wagons, carriages, and fancy automobiles still roared down the streets, and the ponies that populated the city still galloped along the sidewalks. But it felt different now than what Greg was used to.

Even on a sunny day, it still felt like clouds were gathering over Manehattan.

Hopelessness, the gray earth pony thought as he looked out at the city lights in the evening twilight – a far cry from the brightness Greg remembered. That’s what lies over this place. And those who pretend otherwise, who try to convince themselves and others day after day that the new government will bring happiness and prosperity, can’t help but see it.

Or can they?

There was a radio on the dresser, but it was silent now, as it was most of the time: the stallion didn’t really like listening to it. Especially now, when all it played were tinny marches and reports from the fronts about the advancing Equermacht’s offensive on the positions of the Harmonic Army.

But maybe today would be different…?

Greg stretched out his leg and flipped a toggle switch. There was a crackle of static from the receiver, then upbeat, happy music burst through. “…Tomorrow belongs to us…!” – he recognized the lyrics and turned off the radio.

No. Everything as usual. What did he expect? It had only been a short time since they had seceded, and now the main task was to unite the ponies of Eastern Equestria against the “oppressors” with whom they had lived in peace and harmony just the day before.

But songs alone can’t build a nation. At the very least, they’d have to forget their common past.

From the window on the sixth floor, one could clearly see flags flying over many buildings or hanging from windows. Either with the emblem of the New Lunar Republic – abstract wings and a horn on purple, or with the symbol of Luna herself – a thick white crescent moon in a black spot on a blue background. Like a war camp, though many here didn’t want to admit it.

But there is a war. Not here, but out there, to the south and west, it’s still going on. And he, Greg Mellow, can’t change anything by himself.

But somepony else can.

There was no knock – instead, the door was just kicked down and flew inward, clattering to the floor. Greg turned around sharply – and only exhaled in despair.

Ponies in intimidating black uniforms entered the apartment. Each wore a purple legband with a white crescent on the front left shoulder, and their caps had cockades in the shape of a small Luna’s emblem. And almost all of them had a submachine gun belt around their necks.

Except for one, a peach-colored stallion with a brown mane, who came forward, looking at Greg with a gloating grin. The pony had the stylized letters LD on one side of his collar and a square with three four-pointed stars on the other, the labels of the stormhoofer of the Lunar Division[1].

The Gestaponies. Fearless and ruthless guardians of the new order. Who once fell for them, never came back.

“Greg Steelson Mellow,” the stormhoofer said smugly, stretching his words, as he entered the room. “You’re being held on suspicion of possessing Harmonic symbols, which is tantamount to treason under Articles 300 and 111 of the NLR Criminal Code. Start the search,” he tossed to his subordinates, and they scattered across the room.

Greg sighed heavily and closed his eyes. It had to happen one day.

“Zick,” he said tiredly. “Did that old boot denounce me after all? Of course, what wouldn’t she do for an apartment for her favorite nephew in the Fourth Department[2]…?”

“Shut the fuck up, subpony,” Zick Hunter spat out, and walked over to Greg.

He stood there for a moment, looking into Greg’s face, then gave him a sudden hoof kick that sent Greg sprawling, clutching his bruised nose.

Zick leaned down to his ear and said in a whistling whisper, “Say one more word about my aunt and I’ll strangle you in your cell. Understand?”

“Stormhoofer,” one of the Gestaponies turned to the commander. “Look here.”

“Aha!” Hunter grinned triumphantly as the unterhoofer pulled out a pennant with the symbol of Harmony – two alicorns on a blue background forming a circle with a stylized moon and sun inside.

It was a souvenir Greg had brought back from the last Equestria Games in Crystal City. Back then, just over three months ago, no one could have imagined how much things would change.

Zick looked down at Greg again and then kicked him in the stomach, causing him to pull his hooves away from his bloody face and cough.

“Which was to be demonstrated, you bastard,” the stormhoofer said and laughed. Then he turned to the waiting Gestapony, “All right. Pack up this scumbag.” He shoved Greg with his hoof again. “Two of you stay here and do a thorough search. So that this shit –” Zick snatched the pennant from his subordinate, threw it on the floor and wiped his hooves on an expensive soft cloth “– is no longer here. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” answered the unterhoofer and threw up his right front leg. “Praise the Moon!”

Zick nodded and repeated the gesture. Then he looked back at the two Gestaponies who were shackling Greg and headed for the exit. The tails of his black coat fluttered behind him.

They pulled the bit on Greg and dragged him toward the door. He didn’t resist – he had no strength… and no desire, to be honest. It was more important to catch his breath and not vomit his insides on the way out: Zick’s kick had twisted his guts.

Greg realized that he was doomed. What the hay, he was already doomed…! With his views, he had no future under the new government. One way or another, it would get him one day – just like it would get anyone who wasn’t loyal enough.

To chew on… and spit out.

The gray earth pony was pushed out onto the landing. As he lifted his head, he saw the face of his neighbor, the wrinkled old mare who was Stormhoofer Hunter’s own aunt, peering out the other door. She looked at Greg like he was nothing… no, more like a flea that should have been squashed. All Greg could think of was to show the mare his tongue, and he watched with satisfaction as she squirmed.

And then he was led down the stairs and had to concentrate on getting down without tripping over the chains on his legs. Although Zick and the Gestapony escort would probably be happy if he fell down and broke every bone in his body. They could just finish him off and take him to the crematorium.

Finally, the stairs were behind them. The group of ponies stepped out of the entrance into the damp gray evening. A crookedly parked ponice truck with Luna’s crest on the black trim stood in the driveway. Zick got into the cab, and Greg was pushed into a closed body with barred windows in the back and a rectangular door. The car drove off, carrying the new passenger towards his bleak future.

Inside, it was dark and cold, and Greg immediately began to shiver as he was seated on a hard wooden bench and chained to a ring attached to the wall. The gray earth pony wasn’t even allowed to take any clothes with him to put on.

“Sit quietly,” one of the guards muttered, poking the prisoner in the leg with his gun.

Greg tried not to shake, but it didn’t work very well. His teeth chattered treacherously, but the Gestaponies didn’t seem to care, and they didn’t touch him again.

It smelled of gasoline, sweat, and something else Greg preferred not to name. No doubt this truck had transported a lot of ponies in the last month and a half. A lot of ponies.

Sitting in an uncomfortable position at the sight of five submachine guns, Greg pondered his fate. It was like something in his brain responsible for his feelings had shut down and the stallion could only watch what was happening.

He suspected from the beginning that he didn’t fit into the “brave new world” that Princess Luna, or now Nightmare Moon, promised to build under her rule. At the office, Greg was looked at unkindly when he didn’t do the moonlight – the new formal greeting – along with everyone else when meeting with bosses. He didn’t even have a portrait of Immortal Horsecoacher Luna above his desk, nor did he have any accessories with the white moon or the new state emblem that had become very popular lately.

Greg also didn’t like the fact that the formerly peaceful transport company had begun to favor military orders more and more and was now actually sponsored by the new government. It was one thing to transport food and building materials, but quite another to deliver weapons to border towns and the front lines. The more weapons, the more ponies die every day in the relentlessly heated battles – and everyone thinks they’re right.

This can’t be right. It just couldn’t happen…!

But unfortunately, this was the reality. And Greg could only stare out of the grated window at the passing streets, feel the hard seat under his back and the jolts in the curves, and wonder how many days, or perhaps hours, he had left to live.

Any symbol that referred to the days of a united Equestria was punishable by three or even five years in prison under the new laws. The problem was that the investigators always attached treason to such cases, and there were really only three ways out: to heaven, to a work camp until the end of time, or to the front. It was just a matter of figuring out which one was less disgusting.

Hoof on heart, Greg was so crushed now that he would take death as just another inconvenience he wouldn’t even have time to realize. He had no family, no special pony – no one to lose but himself. But something kept the gray earth pony from making a suicidal escape attempt.

He was ready for anything, but not to see the chains of darkness that encircled half of Equestria shrink by the day and his homeland crumble. It was not a fate he wished for it.

But the shackles on his legs and the humiliating harness on his face reminded him who the power was. And it was a power to be reckoned with.

It was about half an hour before the car stopped. One of the guards jumped out while two others unbuckled Greg and the remaining two held him at gunpoint.

Finally, the locks gave way. The gray stallion was dragged from the back of the truck and led to the doors of a huge, wide, blue-and-white stone building. He could see the austere marble columns on either side of the entrance and the familiar purple flags hanging from the roof.

The Lunar Chancellery. Where else could the Gestaponies take him. To their lair, of course.

After passing the two submachine gunners guarding the entrance, the group of ponies went inside. Zick showed his pass at the gate, and they were let through without further ado. The stormhoofer let some of the troops go, leaving the unterhoofer who’d found the pennant and another private with some kind of briefcase, and in this reduced formation they went down the stairs and into the cellars.

If the above-ground part of the Chancellery tried to make an impression of solidity, the other part, hidden from prying eyes, did not care. Greg wondered how it was that the Crystal Empire’s consulate building had turned out to be equipped with such dungeons when it had been captured by the rebels and handed over to the Chancellery after Manehattan’s secession. Though perhaps they had originally been ordinary technical cellars – only found by those who had adapted them for their own purposes.

A grim-faced rottenhoofer unlocked the grated door in front of Zick, and the group of ponies entered the prison block. Rows of cells and offices stretched along both sides of the corridor. It was a little brighter here, but the presence of something evil was felt much stronger. Goosebumps ran down Greg’s back as he began to warm up again.

Zick stopped in front of one of the doors and opened it. The guards led Greg inside, and only then did the stormhoofer enter.

The room turned out to be an interrogation room: bare walls, the stark white light of a lamp, a table with welded-on shackles, and two chairs, one more comfortable than the other. Despite what Greg had imagined, the place was surprisingly clean. Someone must have cleaned up after every interrogation.

The gray earth pony was sat down and chained to the table – and only then was the bridle removed. Greg moved his facial muscles. Ah yes, how nice it felt not to feel… harnessed.

Zick locked the door with a big, heavy bolt. Still grinning victoriously, he walked to the center of the room and sat down across from Greg, his front legs behind his head and his hind legs on the edge of the table. The unterhoofer gestured to the private to guard the door and stood behind him.

“You’ve been caught, you subpony,” Zick said, looking at Greg triumphantly. “Now you’re finished. Are you gonna tell me how you got that stuff, or do you want me to rip your hooves out… for starters?” The stormhoofer’s face broke into an evil smile.

“I brought this pennant from the Equestria Games,” Mellow muttered. He knew he would be forced to say the obvious. “September tenth of this one thousand and seventh…”

“Vendemiaire[3] second of the first year before the NLR!” Zick growled, throwing his legs off the table and stomping on it with his front hoof. “Speak properly, you bastard!”

“It was just a souvenir, symbolizing the unity of all ponies. Cost me a hundred and twenty bits, by the way…”

“And you kept it even after the Lunar Revolution?” The stormhoofer squinted. “What about paragraph 4-b of Decree No. 2 of Frimaire 1st, which demanded that all hostile symbols, including those of Equestria or Stalliongrad, be destroyed or hoofed over to the ponice?”

“I considered it a matter of privacy. I had no intention of showing it to anyone. It was just my business…”

Suddenly Zick reached forward and wrapped his leg around Greg’s neck. He tilted the gray stallion’s head and whispered in his ear, “Remember, scum: you have no privacy here! All you can do is live and die for the Republic!”

At the last words, the stormhoofer pushed Greg’s face hard against the table. Mellow screamed in pain, staining the smooth wood with blood from his nose that had already been smashed twice that evening.

Zick pushed Greg away and wiped his hoof on the edge of his coat.

“You’re even disgusting to touch… I’ll get gloves next time.”

“One thing I don’t understand,” the gray pony muttered, staring at the ground in front of him. “How did she find out…?”

Hunter laughed.

“You look like you don’t give a damn about the Republic! You weren’t even hiding much. And what about the report Mrs. Fishbone gave us about you… well, we have to check any suspicions. And when we arrived,” he grinned again, “it was just luck.”

The peach-colored stallion got up from behind the desk and began to pace the room. The unterhoofer, who had been standing behind Mellow, retreated to the wall so as not to disturb his superior.

“You know what I realized during my time in the Fourth Department?” Zick walked around the desk and stood next to Greg. “That I hate you and those like you. All the trouble comes from you who despise the power of Immortal Horsecoacher. You’d better get out of here under the wing of your bitch Celestia… or just die.”

The stormhoofer returned to his seat, but instead of sitting down, he leaned over the table and glared at the prisoner.

“Ponies like you aren’t worth living. You are a virus, poisoning the essence of the Republic from within. And we –” Zick smiled, circling his hoof around himself and the two Gestaponies “– are the cure.”

Suddenly, as if remembering something, he headed for the door. The private rummaged through the briefcase at his side, pulled something out with his teeth and gave it to Zick.

On the table was a form with the emblem of the Republic on it. Greg’s eyes widened as he recognized it as his ballot from the “general election” in November.

Beneath the graceful black and white portrait of the Princess as Nightmare Moon was printed, “Are you in favor of electing Immortal Horsecoacher Luna as ruler of the New Lunar Republic?” – and two squares signed Yes and No below it.

Greg’s cross was in the No square. The gray earth pony recognized this line drawing. At that time, the pencil in his mouth had almost slipped, and from the pressure, it had slightly sold through the paper.

“And what do you say to this?” Zick asked and put his hoof on the ballot. “What’s this if not treason against the one and only true leader, eh, subpony?”

“Luna wasn’t officially the leader yet,” Mellow objected. “It was only a question of whether her people would accept her in the territory under her control…”

“Shut up!”

Greg’s head jerked from another blow. The gray stallion tried to shield himself, but the chains held tight. Blood splattered on the floor. I wish it would be over already, Greg thought to himself.

“You don't dare question the authority of Immortal Horsecoacher!” Zick said, looming menacingly over him. “She, and she alone, is the rightful ruler of the lands of former Equestria! You’re a traitor who supports a hostile side in the conflict!” The stormhoofer gritted his teeth. “I’d gladly put a bullet in your forehead, you bastard…”

“How…?” Greg exhaled. “I thought the vote was secret…”

“It was,” Zick suddenly smiled disarmingly. “But the ballots were in the box in the order they were cast. And the observers’ lists made it easy to check who was there and when. Y’know?”

“Yes,” Greg lowered his head. “I’m done.”

“Y’know you are. So, you plead guilty to illegal possession of Equestrian symbols and treason against the New Lunar Republic?”

“To the possession, I plead. But to treason, I don’t.”

“No, you do!”

Greg closed his eyes and waited for another blow.

But a second passed, another… and nothing came. With a sigh of relief, Mellow opened his eyes – and was immediately kicked in the teeth.

His mouth exploded with pain and a loud, pitiful groan escaped from his chest. There was a coppery taste on his tongue that made Greg sick.

But he was not allowed to recover.

The blows came at him one after the other, turning his face into a solid lump of pain. Please… don’t… let it end… the gray earth pony begged – but instead of words, only groans came out.

His vision blurred. Seconds blurred into small eternities, each one filled with suffering. At the edge of his ear, he heard the clanking of chains, and then he felt a violent jolt that threw him out of his chair.

The stone floor hit him hard in the back, bringing more tears to his eyes, and his already spasmodic breathing became even harder. Then the hard hoof hit his stomach again. And again. And again…

Zick’s shouts came through the veil that had clouded Greg’s mind.

“I hate you… damn… fucking… subpony…!”

The peach-colored stallion struck with all his might, obviously giving it his all. But no matter how hard Mellow tried, he couldn’t understand why he was so angry and hateful. Was it just that he saw things differently? But that seemed to be enough.

Eventually, the world began to slip away from Greg. He barely remembered how long it took before Zick finally stopped. Nor did he remember being lifted by his legs and dragged away. Then an iron door creaked open, and the half-feeling pony was thrown somewhere.

Then came peace. The pain that had enveloped the personal universe in an impenetrable shell receded slightly, and the fading mind soared, taking advantage of the long-awaited respite.

So good… ran through Greg’s mind.

And the gray earth pony passed out.

But the peaceful oblivion could not last forever.

First the pain returned. It was the same excruciating feeling as if Greg had been twisted in a blender and poured out. Except that his hind legs weren’t hurt as bad: Zick had been beating him mechanically, trying to make him suffer rather than maim him. Which meant there were plans for him after all.

Mellow opened his eyes. There was dim darkness around him, broken by a faint yellowish light coming from somewhere off to the side. There was some kind of floor above him, and Greg lifted his front leg with difficulty and touched it with his hoof.

A bunk. So the interrogation was over and he was taken to a cell. He wondered if there was anypony else in here…?

His leg went down again. Discord, how it hurts…

“Oh, you’re finally up?” a voice came from his right.

Greg turned his head and sat down on a stiff mattress filled with straw.

Opposite him, on the lower level of the same bunk, a unicorn and a pegasus sat in the light of the single dim bulb hanging from the ceiling, looking at Mellow curiously. He also stared at them with interest.

The unicorn was yellow with a brown mane, and looked a bit like Zick, though he was much younger and lighter… and perhaps less evil. His expression and posture were resentful, as if he disagreed with why he was here, and his horn had a ring of crystal that blocked magic, which the unicorn was hardly happy about. Greg hoped it wouldn’t be hard to get along with him.

But the beige, short-cropped pegasus with the silvery tail was not so young, but still seemed much stronger than his cellmate. His powerful body suggested that he might have been a good flyer in the past, and his slightly curved left wing also suggested why he had probably come down to the ground. The chain he wore on his body, only over the top of his healthy right wing, looked like an elaborate mockery and taunt.

Greg sighed, realizing that he looked pathetic compared to them.

“What’s your name?” the pegasus asked again, leaning back in his seat. Apparently, he occupied the top bunk.

“Greg Mellow.”

“Stratospheres Dropper,” he pointed at himself. Then he poked the unicorn in the shoulder, “And this is Consy Jacanapes.”

“Consited,” the unicorn corrected, shaking his head. “Gosh, I can’t believe I ended up in the same cell with you…”

“You two know each other?” Greg asked.

“Not that well,” the pegasus waved his hoof. “My nephew, Lazy, invited him to the bar for a drink after work. And then I joined them…”

“Actually, we were supposed to be celebrating you getting demobilized!” Consited snapped at him. “You could not have lied so brazenly about your military exploits…”

“Well, have mercy on me, son,” Dropper waved his front legs deliberately. “It wouldn’t be good if I told you I broke my wing just at the draft board for Pegasenwaffe! Yeah…” he sighed and met Greg’s surprised look. “It couldn’t be worse. There’s like – you can go to the paratroopers, but they only take pegasi, and then you have to pass a lot of tests, and you can go to the aviation, but I’ve only seen an airplane once in my life… But I wanna be cool! So I made up this whole thing with the Wonderbolts… What are you here for?” he asked.

“Possession of symbols,” Mellow confessed.

“Ah, the ponitical…”

Stratospheres snorted scornfully and turned away. Greg realized that he’d made a mistake.

“Article 300?” the unicorn asked interestedly. The gray pony nodded. “Yeah, bad luck for you. Though,” Consited grumbled, “we’re not much better off either…”

“We were right!” the pegasus exclaimed angrily. “What the fuck are those patrols doing? They’d be better off catching guys like that,” he pointed at Mellow, who felt hurt, “than harassing our mares…”

“We’ve got a whole bunch,” the unicorn told Greg. “Hooliganism, assaulting the ponice as an organized group, and… –” he paused before he finished “– …and coltslaughter.”

“What?!” Mellow stared. “You killed a patrol?!”

“He had it coming!” Stratospheres shouted. “Since he couldn’t understand the words… Well, his head was a bit flimsy too…”

“And what about this... Lazy?”

“So he’s the one who snitched on us!” The pegasus kicked the mattress hard. “And got off with a ticket for drunk driving… Oh, I’ll count his bones when I get out…! And yet he calls himself an LD officer…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Consited nodded, noticing the disbelief on Greg’s face, “Lazy and I worked in the commandant’s office before all this. I was in the passport section; he was in statistics… And Dropper himself used to be in the Wonderbolts. Isn’t that right, Uncle?” He turned to Stratospheres.

“What service is there, I beg you… You only train and perform at shows. And sometimes you have to help with the weather. Other than that, it’s all bullshit. Used to be… And now they’re on the front lines, or building fortifications out of clouds…”

“And you wanted to fight against them?” Greg asked. He just couldn’t believe such a “change in the air.” “Against former comrades?”

“That’s right, former!” Dropper turned to him. The pegasus’ eyes glowed with an evil fire. “By supporting the rule of the tyrant Celestia, you betray the very idea of justice! It was Celestia who arrested Luna a week before the referendum on batponies’ rights! And ordered the shooting of rallies in Canterlot under the windows of her palace…!”

“The newspapers said that only one batpony was killed,” Consited objected. “A guard fired accidentally…”

“Well, those newspapers were around even before the Republic! Of course, they’d have written anything to justify the outrage! But then Horsecoacher escaped, and now only she’s worthy to rule Equestria…”

At the word “outrage,” Greg pressed his lips together and remained silent. He remembered the days of rioting in Manehattan after the new regime had been established.

“And you don’t agree, do you?” The pegasus glared at the younger ponies. They lowered their eyes and said nothing. “All right you, it’s clear with you, but… Consy… are you serious? You’re an unterhoofer of the Division, horn in your ear! You swore an oath…!”

“I just applied for a job when the hiring opened!” Consited exploded. “I went to college to be an administrator, and when I graduated, I couldn’t find a decent job for four months! I ran from dawn to dusk as a delivery colt at the Java’s Cup! And when the war started, I really didn’t know what to do! And there was a job in my specialty, and the pay was good! Even with inflation I could live! What else could I do?!”

The unicorn suddenly hunched over and covered his face with his hooves.

“Poor mother… how’s she now… First my father, now me… And all in just two months…!”

There was silence in the cell for a while, broken only by Consited’s stifled sobs. Dropper staggered from such a blow and now remained somberly silent, glancing at the unicorn from time to time.

Greg decided to change the subject a bit.

“Stratospheres,” he said to the pegasus. “But you didn’t end up here because of Celestia, did you? Remember, there were patrols that did this before…?”

“It’s all their fault, not the government’s. Among normal colts, there’s always a certain number of bastards. And it’s just a coincidence that those zebra-griffin mules got in our way…!”

“By the way, two of the five on that patrol were thestrals,” Consited said, almost calming down. “The ones you defend so fiercely.”

“Well, look at ‘em: they’ve only been here a month since they came down from their mountains! And there’s a big city here… and a lot of scum who’re very happy to take the newcomers under their wings… Anyway, let ‘em get used to it… and maybe they’ll understand how to behave…”

Approaching hoofsteps were heard in the hallway, and then something rattled under the cell door. Turning around, Greg saw that it was just food being brought in. On a tray pushed through a small slit in the bottom of the door were three bricks of hay and three cups of what appeared to be heavily diluted tea.

Stratospheres went to fetch the tray, and when he returned, he distributed the food to his cellmates.

The hay was stiff and a little sour – like it had been taken out of the burgers and left to rest a bit longer. The tea (and it really was tea… well, if you let your imagination run a little) was unsweet but still hot. Greg finally felt warm after traveling naked through winter Manehattan.

Dropper nodded at the gray pony’s observation.

“Yeah, I bet it is. They buy burgers cheap, where the hay tastes pretty bad, and give it to the prisoners while they themselves eat buns and everything else…”

“How long you been in here?” Greg asked, taking a sip from his cup.

“About a couple weeks.” The pegasus looked at the unicorn. “Maybe Consy can tell us more exactly.”

“We screwed up on Nivose second by the new calendar,” Consited replied. “That’s December tenth on the old one. The next day we were taken. So… yes, about two weeks.”

“I was arrested on the evening of the twenty-third,” Greg said. “It’s probably the twenty-fourth now.”

“So, happy Hearth’s Warming Eve, then?” Stratospheres raised his cup.

“Happy Hearth’s Warming,” Mellow replied.

The three stallions clinked their cups.

Another thing that’ll be missed under the new regime, Greg thought. Because the holiday refers to times of peace – and that’s something nopony needs right now.

It won’t be an easy winter… but is there any hope that things will get better in the future? Living in a time of change is the worst thing you can think of. No, I don’t wanna talk about it. My life has changed enough already. And I don’t need any more.

But the gray earth pony realized that these were only his dreams. The reality, as it often is, would be much, much worse.

“…Knight g to f6.”

“Queen to d4.”

“Short castling.”

“Gonna castling too…”

“Hey, you haven’t moved the king’s bishop yet!”

“Oh, right… then bishop to g2.”

“Ha, you don’t expect that! Pawn c7-c5.”

“Holy shit…”

Greg tapped his leg and thought about his next move.

The three stallions had tried a lot of mental activities to keep themselves occupied. Yesterday, they’d played word games and Equestrian cities, and when they couldn’t remember, they’d told jokes and life stories.

Stratospheres told a few funny stories from his time in the Wonderbolts. Consited remembered how he cheated on a math test by taping the cheat sheets to the teacher’s croup, and how she couldn’t understand why half the class was giggling all the time. Greg, on the other hand, dug into his past and recounted some amusing moments from his work as a courier.

He was still hesitant to open up too much to these two… at least to the pegasus. Even though the latter no longer insisted on the “unity” and “legitimacy” of the Horsecoacher’s power, it was unlikely that he would put himself in Consited’s horseshoes and at least adopt a neutral point of view. And Mellow didn’t want to be the next to Dropper’s heavy hoof.

Finally, there came Hearth’s Warming Eve, which had been officially canceled in the Lunar Republic. It had been replaced by the Winter Lunar Festival, which had been held two days before Greg’s arrest, but none of the prisoners had said a word about it. But the old customs couldn’t be eradicated so easily, no matter how much the new authorities wanted to.

Now the gray earth pony was playing chess with the unicorn. Since they had neither board nor pieces, they had to keep everything in mind. And for Greg, who never had much interest in such things, it was not an easy task. Consited was playing black, but from the first moves he was definitely beating him.

Stratospheres sat on top and looked at the younger ponies with a relaxed expression. After the breakdown of his faith in his nephew, the pegasus must have reawakened his latent fatherly feelings.

Meanwhile, Greg’s queen was pinned down by two black knights and painfully searching for a way out.

“…take c4.”

“Queen to d5 with check.”

“Knight to c3…” Greg tried to close off somehow.

At that moment hoofsteps could be heard again from the corridor. And then the sound of keys unlocking the cell.

The door opened with a nasty creak, and a young unterhoofer unicorn peered into the room, followed by two machine-gunners, just in case. The same one who had been present at Greg’s interrogation.

“Jacanapes, Dropper, Mellow, out,” he said, stepping aside to clear the way.

The three prisoners looked at each other and took turns leaving the cell.

The silent, armed earth ponies led them down the same long corridor, but further away, not back. Out of the corner of his eye, Greg noticed that another double escort had joined the unterhoofer, heading for the next cell.

Are they being sent somewhere? All at once?

Greg felt a slight sickness in the pit of his stomach. The three possible outcomes he’d thought about earlier were looming in front of him. And it was not at all clear which of them awaited him.

There was fear on Consited’s and Dropper’s faces as well. But while the pegasus seemed to be stoically enduring everything, the unicorn had a hard time hiding his panic.

And it was understandable: it wasn’t every day that someone else decided whether they should live or die. Although, Greg thought, it might really be every day now.

They were led through another grate and forced up a stone staircase to the doors leading outside. The doors were wide open, and a cold winter wind blew into the dungeon. The Gestaponies guarding the exit wore warm coats, but even so, they were shivering from the cold.

When the three prisoners stepped out of the door, they found themselves in a large space surrounded by a razor-wire fence. This was obviously the backyard of the Lunar Chancellery. There were already quite a few ponies here, mostly stallions, but there were also some mares and even young colts. Not a single thestral in sight. The unicorns were all wearing magic blockers, and the pegasi were in chains that bound their wings. Many had marks from beatings on their bodies and faces, some had whip scars on their backs. And, of course, no one was wearing warm clothing. Even though there was a breeze, the smell of unwashed bodies and blood lingered in the air. This yard must have been soaked a mile deep with it in the last few months.

Behind the fence opposite the door was a cinderblock platform upon which stood an LD officer surrounded by a squad of machine-gunners (more than half of them were batponies). With no surprise, Greg recognized him as Zick. The peach-colored stallion with his chin raised was not looking at the prisoners who kept coming and coming, but somewhere above their heads and the Chancellery building itself, seemingly into the future, hidden by the lead-gray clouds that filled the sky and the swirling snow in the air.

Zick’s black coat fluttered in the wind like King Sombra’s mantle. Suddenly, Greg saw the shadow villain from the Crystal Empire instead of the haughty Gestapony – and immediately shook his head, chasing the vision away.

Ugh, fuck it. Nightmare Moon alone was enough to bring half the country to its knees. What would happen if someone else came…?

In the fence to the right was a locked, one-pony wide gate, also heavily guarded. Behind it was a line of trucks with the emblem of the Republic. No doubt somepony’s being taken away from here. The question is where… and whether they’ll be taken alive or dead.

“I don’t like it,” Consited muttered, looking warily at the machine guns.

“Me neither,” Dropper replied, flapping his broken wing lightly, and winced as the wind scorched his uncovered side. “But now we can only await our fate.”

Greg had to agree with them mentally.

Soon the last group of prisoners was led into the backyard, and the doors of the building closed. The clamor of the crowd began to die down. More and more eyes turned to Zick, and the chatter grew quieter. Everyone feared for their fate and did not want to attract the Gestaponies’ attention any further.

After waiting for complete silence, Zick stepped forward and spoke in a clear, well-pitched voice.

“The dregs of society! Pieces of kirin shit, unworthy to even lie on the ground you trample with your hooves! You have all committed crimes against the law and the citizens of the Republic – and by that same law, you should be given the punishment you deserve!

“However, the stars have decreed otherwise. Immortal Horsecoacher Luna, in honor of this past Winter Moonlit Day, gives you a chance to atone for your sins before Her people and grants you all amnesty!”

At these words, a whisper went through the crowd, and the stormhoofer yelled, “Silence!!! So… and grants you all amnesty – in exchange for the right to join the ranks of the blessed Equermacht and serve bravely in defense of the lands of the Republic! You’ll have to fulfill your civic duty in the battles at the front, and in one year you’ll be guaranteed a full pardon. For those who distinguish themselves in battle and prove their loyalty, even sooner!

“Those who agree to dedicate the next year of their worthless lives to the service of the Republic will leave here now!” Zick pointed his hoof at the trucks outside the yard. “Then you’ll go through a three-week training course and join the fighting units! If you’re willing to make that trade, line up one by one, facing the gate!”

There was a quiet grumble among the ponies. But in a few moments, a line began to form at the gate.

Greg and his cellmates followed. But someone’s loud, shrill question made them stop.

“And what if there are those who disagree?! Who don’t want to give their lives for a rotten to the core regime of separatists and usurpers?!”

“Who said that?!” Zick jumped up, looking around at the frozen crowd.

The ponies, frozen in horror, shrank under the stormhoofer’s glare and lowered their eyes. But no one was willing to step forward and take the blame.

Greg looked at Zick with a fainting heart. Goosebumps ran up and down the gray stallion’s back. Knowing Hunter, he could tell that something bad was about to happen.

And Mellow’s hunch was right.

“Well, if no one’s confessing…” the stormhoofer said and reached for the holster hanging at his side.

Slowly he drew his pistol and twirled it on his hoof. All the prisoners watched him in silence.

After waiting a moment, Zick suddenly grinned and pointed his gun at the crowd. A startled gasp ran through the rows of ponies.

He’s really going to shoot?! Greg thought stunned.

Zick swept his weapon to one side, then the other, as if picking a target. Everyone froze, shrinking back in fear. The stormhoofer glanced over the crowd, absorbing the general emotion, and abruptly jerked his leg with the gun and said, “Bang!”

Muffled screams sounded. Some ponies emptied their bowels. Some of them fainted.

The psychological effect had been achieved.

Greg breathed a sigh of relief. Still, Zick wasn’t such a moral freak that…

With a wince, Hunter stepped back and ordered, “FIRE!!!”

Heavy bursts struck the crowd. Fountains of blood spurted upward. The ponies scrambled in terror, but there was no escape.

Someone swooped down on Greg and threw him to the frozen ground. Darkness blinded his eyes, and the smell of long-uncleaned feathers filled his nostrils. Something sharp poked him in the side – it seemed to be Consited’s horn.

Just as abruptly, the guns fell silent. For a while, an echo rang in his ears. Then it was cut off by groans and cries of pain. Many seemed to have just been really unlucky.

Greg jerked and struggled to get out from under the one who had crushed him and Consited with his body. Then he yelped, “Stratospheres!”

The pegasus sat on his rump, clutching his even more crooked left wing. Blood dripped through his hooves onto the snow.

“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Two holes… Heh, who’d have thought that a wing could really deflect the bullets… Both went away… Now flying… is postponed again…”

“Dropper!” Consited jumped up to the pegasus – and fell to the ground when he saw the blood. “Oh, Celestia…”

“Don’t mention that slut to me!” Dropper shouted, struggling to get up. Red drops were falling down from his feathers. “I’m all right. As they say, bone intact…”

“You’ll all be dead soon!” Zick yelled across the yard. He was standing on his platform, laughing his head off. “You are all dead already! I can do whatever I want to you and nopony will do anything to me! Because I’m the authority here! I am the law! And I can do whatever I want! And you… and you…” He laughed again, more softly this time. “All right, survivors and those who can move, line up one by one, facing the gate!”

Now the line was fast and silent. No more prisoners wanted to die from their own or others’ stupidity.

At the sight of a dozen soldiers, the ponies came through the gate and were loaded into the back of the nearest car. When there was no more room, one of the Gestaponies waved to the driver and the truck pulled away from the gate and the next one rolled up in its place.

Soon it was Greg and his cellmates’ turn. Getting the first of the three into the truck, the gray earth pony said, looking at the soldiers standing outside, “Somepony get him a healing potion.”

Stratospheres followed, dragging his shot wing and leaving a thin trail of blood behind him.

The Gestaponies clearly hesitated. They could easily have ignored Greg’s request or shot the wounded pegasus and thrown him out of the way. But one of the soldiers rummaged through the pouch at his side and pulled out a small bottle, then hoofed it to Dropper.

The pegasus looked at the Gestapony in surprise, then at Greg, and grabbed the potion with his healthy wing. Mellow suddenly broke into a sweat as he imagined Dropper driving the bottle into the private’s eye and snatching the submachine gun from him… and a new massacre begins, even more senseless and cruel.

But Stratospheres didn’t seem ready to die that foolishly. Evidently, his loyalty to the Republic still remained within him. He nodded gratefully, swallowed the purple liquid in one gulp, and tossed the empty bottle under his hooves. Then he climbed into the back of the truck and sat down on the bench next to Greg.

“Thank you,” the pegasus muttered.

Greg just tilted his head in response.

On the other side of Dropper was Consited. The three ponies sat and watched indifferently as the truck was filled with others as miserable as themselves.

A little time passed, and all the benches along the walls were filled. One of the Gestaponies slammed the back doors shut, and the car moved off with a roaring engine.

Into the unknown again, Greg thought as he looked out the window at the snow-covered streets he had known since foalhood.

He remembered how, just the day before yesterday, he had been on his way through the city at night, with no idea what would happen to him in the future. But at least he was alive, and that gave him a shaky hope.

His thoughts drifted from the ride to the Gestaponies who had accompanied him, and from them to Zick and the mini-shooting in the backyard of the Chancellery.

Greg couldn't imagine how it had come to that. Was it really so bad that such scumbags had taken over the power?! What did all those ponies do to deserve to die?! Yeah, maybe some were imprisoned for a reason… but to kill?! How could anyone even think of that?!

And the foals? What are they in for? They’re usually caught stealing a hayburger from a tray or spray-painting a penis on the wall… Is that a reason for them to die?!

And even not everyone was against Nightmare Moon. After November, the youth especially liked to wear purple leg bands, yelling “Praise the Moon!” and moonlighting with every step. Like they were for every new trend, and it was cool in general!

And now they’re being killed by their own kind – just because someone gave the order. And they don’t even have a thought to question it.

And those who survived go to the front to play the lottery one more time. Play it again and again. Every. Fucking. Day.

How many more lives will be lost before the ponies realize that everything they’ve done has been a mistake? How long will it be…? What will be left of Equestria, which should never have been – indeed, never have dreamed of being divided?!

But nothing could be changed alone. Greg understood that – probably better than anyone else.

All I can do is survive. And even that… just as long as I can.

The pounding of the wheels was drowsier than any lullaby. But Greg tried not to give in to the lulling rhythm and stared silently out of the window at the snow-covered forests and fields outside. He spent most of his time on the road that way: it calmed him down quite well.

The carriage was packed with nearly a hundred ponies. The ex-convicts, stripped of their blocking rings and chains, either lay on the floor or sat on narrow benches, depending on how lucky they were to board. But there was no fighting for seats, as armed Lunar Division soldiers were on duty in the vestibule at both ends of the carriage.

At least he’d been given warm clothes before departure. Greg touched the soft gray fabric of his winter field uniform. Yes, much better than before. But still, it was hardly a real concern for the latest enemies of the Republic, but rather a simple effort to keep them from dying prematurely.

The train took them all to Hollow Shades, the sparsely populated forest province where the training camp was located. As Greg remembered from his route sheets from work, it was two days by train, then a few hours by car on the local bad roads. The perfect place to hide a large group of soldiers and let them brush up on their skills.

Greg sighed and turned away from the shifting landscape. There wasn’t much to do in such a crowd and with such a silent clamor. There was nothing to do but think.

Although…

“Greg,” Consited asked quietly, sitting next to him, “did you have a… special pony?”

The gray stallion was surprised, but then shook his head.

“Nah. I’ve always been too self-sufficient, too independent to need anyone else. And –” Greg grinned wryly “– too inconspicuous to attract attention. That only seemed to work with the Gestaponies.”

The unicorn also chuckled at this obviously forced joke.

“And why did you bring it up?” Mellow asked.

“Just something I remembered…” Consited sadly looked up at the ceiling and the wall across the carriage. “That filly Dropper and I rescued from the patrols could have been my marefriend if… if things had turned out differently. It’s like a typical movie plot: first I went to see her in the glass shop that had opened in the place of the former pizzeria, and looked at the crystal… No, can you believe it – three hundred and forty bits for a plate! We pay less for utilities… paid… And this new money! Can you imagine, the bits are paper? I’ve never seen anything like that before.

“And then we met again, but under different circumstances. Lazy drove her home, the next day she invited us all for tea… and the very next day Dropper and I were arrested! Why?!” He lifted his head and clutched his eyes, holding back sobs. “It’s not fair…!”

“Oh, just don't whine here about injustice,” the pegasus’ voice came from the side, and both young ponies turned to look at Stratospheres. He was sitting with his forelegs crossed over his chest, watching some of his fellow travelers playing a game of self-made cards. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who’s had a bad time in life, Consy. The others had a lot to tell about their pasts, too.”

“Do you have a story as well?” Greg asked. “You know, with a special pony?”

“Oh, you bet I did,” he snorted. “Mine was Captain Spitfire herself.”

“You’re just feeding us crap again,” Consited spat on the floor. “Well, who’s she and who are you…”

“Well, it wasn’t now, but a long time ago, when I was in the main squadron of the Wonderbolts and she was a little fart who’d just graduated from the Academy. I was a great flyer back then, and of course I couldn’t refuse former Captain Fair Wings’ order to take a promising filly under my wing, so to speak.

“Well, Spitfire turned out to be a good student, and most importantly, she tried so hard that after a while I began to wonder if she’d soon beat me as well. But I didn’t much care: it was just nice to see someone making such progress with my help.

“Gradually, we got a bit closer. She even let me into her barn… if y’know what I mean. Uh, I was as happy as a colt then…” the pegasus lowered his head, “and didn’t think at all about where things would go in the future.

“By then we were almost on the same level and performed in the same team at all the shows. But as time went by, I felt that my youth was about to go away along with my speed. Fair Wings was also getting older. And one day… she decided to retire.

“The question was, who’d be the new Captain of the Wonderbolts? I counted on Spitfire’s support, and in return, I’d soon step down myself and make her my successor. I had hoped that what we had between us would be more important to her than the rest, but –” Stratospheres laughed bitterly and shook his head “– how fucking wrong I was.

“According to the rules, each of the Wonderbolts had to support a particular candidate. I chose her, of course, thinking that she’d convince the others to vote for me. But… she had become so influential by then that she decided to make herself the main candidate.” Dropper grinned. “And she succeeded. After everypony had voted, Fair Wings announced the results at the general meeting. Oh, I remember how angry I was then… And Spitfire told me that the Wonderbolts should be led by the best flyer – which, alas, I no longer was. And when that bitch Celestia confirmed her as the Captain, Spitfire kicked me the fuck out. All I got in return for all I’d done for her was a record of being fired for physical reasons. I gave it all up and moved to Manehattan. Out of sight. The Weather Bureau was just very interested in my services.”

Dropper looked up and turned to Consited.

“So don’t talk, kid, about how lousy things are for you. The others may have lost something too.”

Greg thought about his life in Manehattan. Cushy nine-to-five paperwork, a two-room apartment in a nice area for four hundred bits a month… No, it certainly didn’t compare.

Many found themselves after the revolution, he thought, remembering Zick. But many more ponies had to give up something. Freedom, family… life. It couldn’t be avoided. Just wasn’t possible.

But… the gray earth pony closed his eyes, there’s something that everyone can keep for themselves until the end. It’s himself, his identity, his beliefs and ideals. What he believes in… and who he is.

And I – he turned back to the window – will remain myself, too. And survive. Not for my own sake, but for the sake of those who’ve been deprived of it.

A cloudy winter day. In some places, the snowdrifts in the forest are up to the neck, but in the camp itself, the snow has been thoroughly cleared away. The trees crackle with frost – but much louder is the sound of rifle shots above the forest.

A shooting range. Actually, just a big clearing with plywood targets: some of them are shapeless figures, some are in the shape of ponies. Many of them look like a sieve with broken edges, but they are replaced from time to time. As hard as it’s been, the supply trains have been arriving on schedule.

Greg and a dozen other earth ponies are standing behind a low mound of earth, carefully aiming at the targets that the instructor is telekinetically dragging around from time to time. Unicorns are practicing separately on the other side of the clearing; they don’t need support for their weapons, so they’re trained more intensively – but also allowed to shoot with their hooves to recharge their levitation. Pegasi have their own training program – at least Greg and Consited rarely crossed paths with Stratospheres during the day.

The daily routine is strict: getting up, exercise, breakfast, snow removal, a five-mile cross-country run through the woods, then lunch, weapons training until evening, dinner, ideological processing (well, what else can you call propaganda speeches by batpony commissars and out-of-context clips from the frontline newsreel?), and only a little free time before bed. But Greg doesn’t complain, and in the evenings, he reads newspapers and books – old and new: first, to finally understand why it was necessary to make the lives of millions of ponies a living hell; and second, to better figure out his place in the world and in this sad history. So far, that’s not working out well; nothing comes to mind except the thought that everything should go back to the way it was, and that he just shouldn’t die. But Mellow doesn’t give up trying. He believes there are answers out there, and he just has to find them.

The instructor’s loud voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Whatcha aimin’ at, duffer?! Can’t ya see where the target’s movin’?!

Greg doesn’t know if this is meant for him, but just in case, he makes an extremely concentrated expression and carefully points the gun at the most distant piece of plywood.

In his hooves is a simple Lily rifle, breechloader with sliding bolt. Almost everyone here has one, and those who have distinguished themselves can be recognized by the magazine type Lavender. Both had been put into service last year, along with much more expensive submachine guns for the Gestaponies; all weapons were designed so that even the earth ponies could insert and remove parts properly, and most importantly, reload quickly. The trigger is large – just under the size of a hoof – and the trigger guard even allows the weapon to be carried by literally putting it on the leg. But this wouldn’t work with pistols: there are models for tooth grip as well as for magical levitation. Well, or for a griffin’s paws.

It seems useless information, but it gives a good idea of what is needed and why.

Indeed – working on killing tools brings out a special ingenuity in the mind.

Greg learns the science of death. Not because he likes it, or because he thinks he should use it sooner, no; but just to be able to defend himself. Even from those who are now on the same side of the front line.

“Remember: every accurate shot ya fire brings the Republic closer to its imminent victory, every miss pushes it further away!” says the instructor, walking behind their backs. “If you hit the enemy in the leg, it limits his mobility, but that’s all. If ya hit him in the side, it distracts him from the fight and makes him focus on savin’ his life! And only an accurate hit to the chest or head should give ya the confidence that he won’t get up again!

“O’ course, all of this only works if he hasn’t decided to sacrifice himself to take more of us to the grave! They call this heroism in their Harmonic Army – we call it stupidity! We can’t afford heavy casualties, so we will crush them with tactics and equipment. And we will crush them… only if ya dumb asses start hittin’ properly!!!”

And Greg is shooting.

Again… and again.

The trench was quite narrow. Jumping into the reinforced planked cavity, the earth pony was struck for the first time by how little space there was. As a resident of Manehattan with its gigantomania, Greg had never been claustrophobic, but now he felt the slight claws of fear tickling his brain.

But there was no fear of death, exactly. Not yet.

Greg pulled himself up and craned his neck to peer out of the trench, trying to make out the enemy’s position. There seemed to be some reinforcements in sight, but they were at least a quarter of a mile away…

Good thing they’re not advancing right now, the earth pony thought, wrapping himself more tightly in his overcoat. It’s cold as hell. He looked up to the sky. Looks like almost all pegasi from the weather service were drafted here as well. As long as we don’t get an unscheduled blizzard…

In the distance, shrouded in a haze of snowy mist, Canterlot Peak loomed, and as he looked closer, he could make out the outline of a castle on its slope. The same castle from which the remaining Equestria controlled by Harmony was still ruled. Reports from the Ministry of Information said that Celestia had cowardly fled Canterlot, leaving her subjects to defend the half-empty capital, but Greg didn’t believe it. He’d never been there or seen the Solar Princess in person, but he couldn’t imagine one of the two rulers of formerly united Equestria turning out to be a “bunker runt,” as they called her.

They probably write about Luna the same way over there…

“Get down, you idiot!” a familiar voice hissed, and someone’s strong hooves dragged Greg back into the trench from the embankment.

The earth pony slumped heavily on the planks and rose to his legs, rubbing the bruised spot.

In front of him stood Stratospheres Dropper, a non-commissioned officer of the Equermacht infantry, looking down at him menacingly.

“Didn’t they tell you that even in a lull at the front you should be triple careful?!” he growled. “I need you alive, rookie. I – and the Republic, which is counting on all of us.”

But do we need such the Republic?

Fortunately, Greg had the wisdom to keep his mouth shut.

The other soldiers of the squad, led by Consited, approached them. Actually, the unicorn just went first – and the leader among them was Dusty Night, a batpony soldier trailing the group. He hadn’t trained with them in Hollow Shades, but had been assigned to be Stratospheres’ assistant by an outside order. And was clearly not happy about it.

Everypony was armed with Lilies, and only the pegasus and the thestral had Lavenders. The rifles had bayonets bolted to their barrels, and the soldiers’ heads were covered by black helmets with the emblem of Luna. At the side of each pony hung a cartridge case, tightly packed with ammunition and a few grenades. Who knows how long the battle will last… when it begins.

“Line up!” Dropper commanded.

The troops quickly formed a straight line.

“Well, soldiers, listen to the order,” began the pegasus, walking along them. “In a few hours the main forces will arrive here, and the deployment of the existing artillery will be completed. The enemy also has a respite after yesterday’s fighting, but we don’t know how long it’ll last. Our task is to hold our positions in case the enemy attacks first and then we go on the offensive. The main thing is to wait for artillery support and not to take any risks. That’s clear?”

“Yes, sir!” the soldiers answered in unison.

“Praise the Moon!”

And Stratospheres threw up his right front leg.

Most of the troops immediately did the same, and Dusty Night especially eagerly. Greg hesitated for a moment before lifting his hoof with the rest of them. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Consited didn’t make a moonlight right away, either.

The pegasus didn’t seem to notice that.

“Then rifles to battle. All in position…” he ordered.

And then there was a rumble from the enemy trenches. And next – a deafening whistle that didn’t bode well for the Equermacht.

“Get down!!!” Dropper shouted, and everyone immediately pressed against the planking.

Greg’s ears hurt from the close blasts. Fountains of earth and snow exploded nearby. None of the group was injured, though. Unfortunately, only for now.

A pair of cannons to the right answered the volley. The shells plowed the ground near the enemy positions, and it took some time before the artillery fire resumed.

On both sides machine guns rattled. And, peering cautiously from behind the barrier, Greg saw the Equestrians coming out of the trenches. In small groups, they began crawling toward the Republic lines.

“Here we go,” Dropper muttered, crouching down to aim his rifle.

Greg also prepared to fire. His hoof dug into the ammunition pouch and grabbed a round. The bolt had already been pulled, opening the breech, and the cartridge case slid smoothly into the recess. Mellow snapped the bolt back and pulled the trigger. Then he squinted, looking for enemy soldiers.

He didn’t want to shoot, but he had no choice. Well, he had a choice, because as everyone knows, there’s always a choice… but the gray stallion liked the alternative even less.

When the troops of the Harmonic Army came within two hundred meters, Greg fired. Missed, of course, at that distance. But there was no time to think. The earth pony reloaded and took aim again.

One by one, the soldiers in pale green uniforms began to fall. But more of them kept coming, crouching before the bullets and shells that ripped everywhere.

And soon they would come closer. And Greg would have to shoot straight at them. And they’d shoot at him, too.

At that moment, the guns behind them struck harder, and smoke and snowdust from the explosions covered the battlefield. The organized offensive of the Equestrians was in disarray, but after a short time, supported by the fire of their cannons, they continued towards the defensive line of the Lunar Army.

Greg fired again and again, trying both not to miss too badly and not to be deadly accurate. There was a vague, almost unrealistic hope that the close hits would scare the soldiers away and they would retreat to avoid being targeted…

Except that Celestia’s soldiers seemed to know that as well. And so they went forward anyway… to push back the enemy at the cost of their lives and to defend their lands.

“Take this, you bastards!” Dropper’s voice came from the side.

Greg turned his head to see the pegasus throw a couple of grenades at the enemy and then return to the butt of his rifle.

Two explosions went off, scattering steel shards and what appeared to be body parts. The earth pony stifled the nausea caused by the vision. Of course, he knew that war was a dirty business, but to see it in person was doubly unpleasant.

And even more so to be a part of it.

Out of the clouds of smoke, about thirty meters in front of Greg, a soldier of the Harmonic Army suddenly ran out – a light blue unicorn in a green uniform and a helmet with a hole for a horn. The camouflage coloring was far more useless against the winter backdrop than the dark gray overcoats of the Equermacht. Mellow glanced at his epaulettes, but it was hard to see anything from this distance. Most likely the guy was a private like himself – thrown into this war by someone at random.

The unicorn slowed down and stopped, realizing that he was right in front of the enemy trenches.

And then he saw Greg.

For a split second, the two didn’t move, looking at each other.

Maybe he doesn’t understand why, for what reason he’s here, either? Mellow thought.

But a moment, frozen like an ice crust, passed – and the shaky hope of understanding faded.

The unicorn unbuckled one of the grenades from his belt and brought it to his mouth to pull the pin with his teeth…

And at that moment, Greg pulled the trigger. Just a hoof twitched mechanically.

The shot rang out and he felt the recoil in his shoulder. The unicorn’s chest exploded with bloody splashes, and he fell to the snow before he could throw the grenade.

Which already seemed to be missing its linchpin.

The explosion covered the soldier’s body from Mellow’s view, causing the earth pony to hide behind the embankment for a moment.

I’m the murderer, Greg thought distantly. Then he shifted his gaze to the others, diligently showering the enemy with a rain of lead and steel. We all are murderers.

[1] The Lunar Division is special forces created by Horsecoacher Luna's decree of Frimaire 1st, 1 NLR (November 8, 1007 Harmony Era). Rank system: private/hoofer, rottenhoofer (soldiers); unterhoofer, stormhoofer (junior officers); grosshoofer, standartenhoofer, oberhoofer (senior officers); brigadenhoofer, gruppenhoofer (top officers). Have special powers and are used as an instrument of ponitical investigation and suppression.

[2] The Fourth Department of the Lunar Chancellery is the secret ponice (Gestapony). Included in the Lunar Division.

[3] After the separation from Equestria, the NLR established a new calendar of twelve months. To cover the entire year, five of them: the first (Frimaire), third (Pluviose), sixth (Floreal), ninth (Thermidor), and twelfth (Brumaire) include 31 days, the others 30 each. In a leap year, the 31st day is added to the fourth month (Ventose). The years are counted from November 8, 1007 HE.

Chapter Nine. The Battle of Cloudsdale

June 1008

June 13

Trails of white powder stretched across the smooth tabletop. A slender tube wrapped in a turquoise telekinesis field flew to the beginning – or the end – of one of them, and with a sickening sound of air being sucked in, chalk-like dust rose up the tube and disappeared into the nostril of the inky black alicorn.

Nightmare Moon closed her eyes for a few seconds, savoring the sensation, then licked her lips and looked up at the dirty-white earth pony with the scotch-taped round glasses and prominent teeth.

“Excellent, Advisor,” she murmured. Then she coughed, wrinkled her nose, and sniffed loudly. “So what did you say… ahem… is this stuff called?”

“Mintal powder, Horsecoacher.” The bespectacled pony tilted his head. “We make it from the core of Zebrican cacti shipped by sea from Chiropterra. It’s been found in experiments to give amazing clarity of thought and to accelerate brain function for a while, so it has some association with the word ‘mental.’ And it’s ‘mintal’ because it has a hint of peppermint extract in it... let’s just say for the scent.”

“Ask for more.” The alicorn bared her fangs. “Such help from our overseas allies is most welcome. In return, we’ll have to ship them weapons… How are they doing over there, by the way?”

“Not bad, but we wish they could do more.” The earth pony adjusted his glasses, then pulled a map of Zebrica out of his briefcase and unfolded it in front of him. “On one hoof, Tobuck is only holding on with the help of Zarantia. Chiropterra’s forces have completely occupied the island of Manerba and recently captured the city of Miharzehir, so the Tobuckians may soon surrender. On the other hoof, Warzena is supported by Hippogriffia; the Chiropterrans are still unable to capture the city of Askalion or surround the capital of Zamivgazal. Besides, those damned Hippogriffs want to give our friends a naval blockade with their small fleet. So our trade with Chiropterra is in danger. Unless we put real cannons on merchant ships—”

“This is impossible!” A blue-gray, stubbled batpony in naval uniform stood up. “The Coltsmarine already has too few resources, not to mention we’ve lost most of our ships in six months! I object…!”

“Admiral Swell,” Nightmare Moon said softly, and the thestral fell silent. “Sit down. Nopony is talking about removing existing weapons. It’s about giving away the surplus produced.” She looked to the other end of the long table where the economic advisors sat. “Can we even do that? Nightshade?”

“In theory, we can,” murmured a beige thestral stallion with a straight brown mane and red eyes. “The war factories are running at full capacity. So are the shipyards, just for a second, Admiral,” he remarked, glancing at Swell. “Nothing is impossible for us right now. Especially with the research of Dr. Trottenheimer and Advisor Poindexter.” A nod to the bespectacled pony. “I can assure you: a shipment of the required quantities will be produced within the next month. One way or another.”

“What about you, Boo?” The alicorn turned to the white, pink-haired thestral mare next to Nightshade. “How are the finances?”

“Difficult,” she sighed. “But bearable. Abolishing the bit gold standard has injected millions into the economy, especially the military… but it has also fueled inflation. Weapons procurement prices are still under our complete control, however. Otherwise, trade with Skyfall is literally saving us. Although the national debt—”

“Enough,” Nightmare Moon cut her off. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Then—”

“I beg to differ, Horsecoacher,” came a soft but firm voice.

All eyes turned to the light orange unicorn mare in the dark green tunic to the left of the alicorn.

“We need those weapons for ourselves,” she said. “No matter what’s across the ocean. Right now, our priority is the war with Equestria.”

“So the resources at hoof aren’t enough for you, General Shimmer?” The bespectacled pony blinked at her.

“Alas,” she replied sadly. “Our counterattack along the entire front is going slower than we’d like. We’re struggling to take back what we gave up in the winter and spring. At this rate, we won’t reach Ponyville until late summer and Canterlot until early winter. So, yes, we need more. Otherwise,” she flicked her eyes at him, “do something cooler, Gizmo. At least twenty percent cooler.”

“Using the enemy’s phrases, Sunset?” the snow-white pegasus with the blond mane scolded her jokingly. A cockade with a winged pony carrying a crescent moon in its hooves indicated that he was the commander of the Pegasenwaffe.

“Don’t shut me up, Cloud,” the unicorn said with a look of infinite fatigue. “After all, our units have to work together. But—”

“Equestria has good air defense and aviation, Horsecoacher.” The pegasus turned to Nightmare Moon. “If we get bogged down in air combat, we don’t have a chance to help the infantry. And it’s hard for bombers to get far west… and even harder to get back.”

“Besides,” Sunset interjected, “the new automatic rifles are not giving us the advantage we expected. In response, the Equestrians are starting to use crystal-powered energy weapons and—”

“A-a-and?” The alicorn lifted her chin and glared at her. “I’m listening.”

“They’re getting more and more analogs to our Lightnings. That means they’re catching up to us in power. And in the long run they might even surpass us. And that means” – Sunset looked at Gizmo again with determination – “that we need a trump card to turn the tide. Preferably more than one.”

“And how did our top-secret developments end up in the enemy’s hooves?” Nightmare Moon said in a honeyed voice, turning her head to face Aryanne. “Would you enlighten me, Gruppenhoofer?”

“I…” The white mare lowered her gaze for a moment, but then looked into the alicorn’s eyes. “My guess is that there is a new resident in the central office. Without him, the network of sleeper agents would be helpless against the Gestaponies. However—” Sweat broke out on Aryanne’s forehead. “This pony is obviously smarter than the ones they’ve sent before. Anyway, he doesn’t leave any traces, and he’s obviously familiar with the conspiracy—”

“So he’s the one who set off the explosion at the Lunenerbe Medical Institute?” Gizmo hissed. “And you still can’t find him?!”

“He’ll be hard to track down, that’s true. But—” Aryanne’s gaze grew sharper than steel. “I swear I’ll find him and rip his guts out.” She pulled herself up and made a moonlight. “Word of the Lunar Division officer.”

Nightmare Moon nodded. “All right, Gruppenhoofer. Do not disappoint me.” The alicorn looked around at the assembled audience. “So, you say you need a trump card to speed up your offensive? But why such one-sided, flat, two-dimensional thinking, my children? Do you really hope it will help you? After your disgraceful defeat at Canterlot?!”

Sunset and Cloud Skipper cringed under the gaze of turquoise eyes with narrow, vertical pupils. Their icy glare pierced their very souls, making their hearts clench and their blood run cold. Their lungs tightened, unable to breathe. It was like…

Like on the Moon.

“You have already failed me once! And now that a strategic initiative is at stake, all you can do is mumble that you don’t have enough money?! Either bury those bastards in corpses… or be smarter than that. Think in three dimensions, not two! Otherwise,” Nightmare Moon bared her fangs, “I will find replacements for you. At least among the Chiropterrans. Maybe they will do a better job.”

The generals froze in their seats, unable to blink. Apparently pleased with the effect, the alicorn grinned, closed her eyes, and breathed in another white trail.

Sunset and Cloud glanced at each other. The pegasus nodded slightly. The unicorn nodded back and, after taking a breath, turned back to the ruler. “Actually… we have a plan that might work. It’s just a matter of how successful it will be. But success will bring us much.”

Nightmare Moon only raised an eyebrow.

“Y-yes, Horsecoacher,” Cloud added, “let me show you…”

He picked up a hoofful of white and dark blue pony figurines from the edge of the table and leaned over the large map of Equestria spread out on the desk.

He centered the white figures in one spot and placed the blue ones to the right. The gothic lettering beneath the cluster of whites read: CLOUDSDALE.

“What does infantry need on the offensive? Air support.” He took a few more white pieces and placed them opposite the blue ones. “Their advantage is that the air system is more orderly and anchored to a single center.” The pegasus’ hoof pointed at Cloudsdale. “Accordingly, while the Pegasenwaffe fights their air force and the Wonderbolts…” A pair of blue pieces approached the cloud city from both sides, and the white pieces advanced to meet them. “…infantry gets bogged down in positional battles and killed in assaults.”

In a single motion, he swept aside the two lines facing each other to the east. The pieces rolled across the table as if they were abstractions rather than flesh-and-blood units of many thousands.

“So if we gather enough forces for a powerful strike and destroy the center…” Cloud Skipper raked the remaining blue figures into a pile with his wing, and literally swept the “defenders” of Cloudsdale away with them. Then he rearranged the infantry of both colors and added a few more blue ones around them. “…then their support will be uncoordinated and of no use to them.”

The blue pieces flanked the white ones, and then a mighty hoofbeat brought the latter down on the glossy surface of the map.

“Horsecoacher.” The pegasus raised his chin and stared at the alicorn. “We must destroy Cloudsdale.”

Her lips curved into a smile, revealing sharp teeth again.

“Splendid,” Nightmare Moon said. “I like your approach, General. Try not to disappoint me. Give me a detailed operation plan in three days. Time is of the essence, so we should not delay.”

“If I may, Horsecoacher…” Gizmo spoke up. “I would like to add one small detail to this plan. But it’s one that will allow us to do more damage to Equestria. Not so much militarily, but morally.”

“Intrigued. Continue.”

“Recently, a group of our scientists deciphered some curious Zebrican hoofiscript… To get right to the point, it describes the technology for producing a necrotic gas with very interesting properties. It has almost no effect on inanimate things – except for its good absorption. But it has a wonderful reaction with living beings.” Gizmo smiled with pleasure at the details of the development. “Flesh literally melts at the slightest contact with it, allowing you to fuse one body to another, body to weapon, armor, or any surrounding surface. Short-term exposure causes horrible mutations, and breathing the gas (which is bright pink, by the way) for even a minute is guaranteed to kill the pony.” Gizmo grinned. “But that’s where the fun begins.”

“Is this… like the Dread League or something?” Admiral Swell scratched the back of his head. “Walking dead and stuff? Oh, cut the crap—”

“One more word, Admiral, and you will join them.” The alicorn smiled sweetly, and the blue-gray thestral choked. “Continue, Advisor Poindexter.”

“When exposed to large doses of gas, a pony can be revived as a ghoul, and not just an ordinary one, but one that spreads the same Pink Cloud, as we call it,” Gizmo spoke again. “And he wouldn’t get hurt by melee weapons or firearms: after critical damage, his body would regenerate itself. To kill such a ghoul, you’d have to at least decapitate him, although his… uh… body parts would still be active for a while. Or incinerate him. That’s for sure. Of course, it could be done by a powerful unicorn mage, or with a flamethrower—”

“…or with an Equestrian magic rifle,” Sunset said in the silence that followed.

Gizmo hesitated for a moment but managed to control himself.

“Well… yes. That’s one of the drawbacks. Unfortunately, after such a temporary ‘death,’ most of those turned into ghouls behave like beasts, obsessed with killing. And they do not choose sides but destroy everything until they are destroyed themselves. Therefore, when they are used, our forces should not be in the vicinity… to avoid incidents.”

“Well…” Nightmare Moon said. “And what does this have to do with the storming of Cloudsdale?”

“Quite a lot.” Gizmo shrugged. “If we turn the attack into a distraction, we can hit targets with gas bombs that would kill the last will to fight in the sunfuckers.”

“You mean Canterlot?” Aryanne asked, leaning forward. Her eyes glistened, and she seemed to absorb every word the Lunenerbe chief said.

Gizmo nodded. “Including this. Though I suggest that the main target – for the sake of effect – be a different place.” A dirty-white hoof pointed at a small town far west of the front lines. “How about striking Littlehorn? The only targets there are schools relocated due to the war, but the kind that all of Equestria knows about. First, the School for Gifted Unicorns of… ahem, the well-known bunker whore; and second, the so-called School of Friendship run by her apprentice. Two in one. Just fabulous, isn’t it? And if we add Canterlot and Cloudsdale, we’ve got a real combo! The apotheosis of death, destruction, and panic.”

“The apotheosis of war…” Nightmare Moon said, savoring the phrase.

“Exactly!” Gizmo started to laugh. “Imagine aggressive dead ponies walking around Canterlot, who were just ordinary citizens an hour ago! Or pegasi being eaten alive by their comrades in their own fiefdom! Or a crowd of ghoul foals wandering around Equestria like at Nightmare Night, yelling ‘Trick-or-Treat’! But the thing is, they’d be real ghouls…!”

The other ponies at the table also chuckled quietly. The alicorn smirked as well, as if admiring the courage of thought of her own “student” who had surpassed his teacher.

“Well, Advisor, you have surprised me. If all goes well, you will receive the highest award. Of course, I won’t forget you either.” She turned to Sunset and Cloud Skipper, who were still silent. “But only if the operation allows us to gain a strategic advantage. And that’s our weakness right now.”

“We won’t fail!” the white pegasus exclaimed, raising his hoof. “Praise the Moon!”

“Praise the Moon!!!” shouted all the others, also making a moonlight.

“Glory to batponies!” the thestrals added.

Nightmare Moon smiled and raised her right foreleg as well. “I think we can finish here. Octavia, Aryanne, stay here for a while.”

The two mares stayed at the table while the other ponies hurriedly left the meeting room to return to their business. As the door closed behind the last of them, which was Cloud Skipper, the black alicorn grinned and looked at her loyal subordinates.

“Well, amuse me,” Nightmare Moon said. “Has anything happened in the last few days that I don’t already know about?”

“Oh yes, Horsecoacher,” Aryanne giggled. “For example, the day before yesterday, in one of the bars (Hoofbeats, I guess), a group of soldiers on leave from the front tried to pay – just imagine that! – with a playing card with your picture on it!”

Lifting her head, the alicorn laughed out loud. Her hoof in the bluish slipper struck the trembling table with a metallic clang.

Octavia, though, only smiled. Probably just following the general mood.

“And then?” Nightmare asked after laughing and wiping away her tears. “Did they pay?”

“Believe it or not, yes!” There was another burst of laughter. “But the waiter had called the owner first, and the latter, apparently afraid that the Gestaponies would find out, decided to accept the payment. Besides, a dozen drunken soldiers are not easy to refuse.”

“So what did you do when you heard?”

Aryanne shrugged. “Everything according to the law. The soldiers are in the ponice station awaiting deportation to the front; the waiter and the owner are in the next cell awaiting trial. And then maybe they’ll go to the front lines as well.”

“Oh, I’ve thought of something better…” Nightmare Moon brought her hooves together in front of her face and looked at Aryanne. “Tell me, the lamps in the Lunar Chancellery hang unadorned, don’t they?”

“Y-yes, Horsecoacher,” the white pony nodded a little uncertainly. “I’m afraid I don’t quite get the point—”

“I think you can decorate them with beautiful leather lampshades in one of the corridors. All at the expense of the treasury, of course. I’m sure Boo would be willing to spare some of her amazing paper tickets.”

“Brilliant,” Aryanne bowed her head with a satisfied smile. “I admire your ingenuity, Horsecoacher. Rest assured, these ponies will serve the country in a new capacity—”

“You know, maybe let them fight,” Nightmare Moon said after a moment’s thought. “Why waste such soldiers? They’ve got plenty of courage, I see. And those ponies from the club could join them… The lampshades could be made from their families. That’s even better: the skin will be thinner and more delicate—”

“Fine,” Aryanne nodded. “I’ll take care of it immediately.”

“And you, Octavia, how would you like to please me?” The alicorn turned to the other pony. “Apart from your charming music, of course.”

“My story may not be quite as amusing, but it’s interesting in a way.” The gray mare smiled modestly. “Last week, it came to my attention and to the Third Department of the Chancellery that somepony named Quibble Pants (a pony from the West, actually) had written a novel... about our victory. It’s called The Mare in the High Tower. The funny thing is that at first glance, it’s a reference to you, but in fact to one of the book’s characters.”

“Really?” Nightmare Moon raised an eyebrow. “Interesting… And what’s there with our victory, hmm?”

“Actually, it’s a little more complicated than that. The story takes place in the year 1032 by Equestrian count. In that reality, Equestria lost the war and was divided between the NLR, which is called the Lunar Empire there, and the Kingdom of the Changelings. The Crystal Empire and Stalliongrad also fell to our onslaught, and New Mareland is our outpost in Griffonia. The plot has several lines, including a love story, but there is also a ponitical one. The fact is that the Changelings have managed to create some sort of dragonfire superbomb there and are preparing to drop it on Manehattan to continue their takeover of the continent. However, one of their generals is plotting to overthrow Chrysalis and thwart those plans.”

“So how does it all end?”

“Well… in general… that line gets cut off here. But the central line is another, involving the main characters. The point is that in the world of the book, the famous Daring Do, who lives in a ‘high tower’” – Octavia’s hooves showed quotation marks – “in the lands controlled by the Changelings, has written a similar novel called The Butterfly Flies Slowly, in which she tells how Equestria won the war. At the same time, the characters keep using the Kirin Book of Fire for divination. Eventually, one of the characters arrives at Daring Do’s house, and she tells her that she used the Book of Fire in her work on the novel. The mare then divines on the Kirin treatise, asking about The Butterfly – and concludes that Daring Do’s book contains a hidden truth and that you and Chrysalis actually lost the war. The end. Isn’t it weird? On the one hoof, there is amazingly successful composition, complex plot, and open ending. On the other one, equally ridiculous content—”

“No, not at all…” Nightmare Moon muttered. “There is something to it… I think I have found a way to use what you told me. Secretly distribute the book to unreliable ponies in the Republic and then go on a series of raids with Miss Wagner.” The alicorn smiled warmly at Aryanne. “Anypony found in possession of a copy must be shot. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly,” Octavia nodded. “By the way, I wanted to take this opportunity to invite you, Horsecoacher, to my concert next Sunday, June twenty-second. It will be the first time I perform Thestral music from before the First Lunar War—”

“Thank you, child. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I will try to attend. On such an occasion,” the alicorn mused, “I might even ask to find a piece of my own from over a thousand years ago in the archives. It’s been a long time since I heard it… Perform it next time, say in early July.”

“I would be honored, Horsecoacher.” Octavia bowed respectfully.

“If we are lucky,” Nightmare Moon grinned, “we will soon be celebrating the fall of Cloudsdale together. And with it, the entire air defense of Equestria.”

And she sucked in another white trail.

June 15

When Soarin opened his eyes, he saw the snow-white ceiling of the cloud base bedroom above him.

Oh, no flippin’ way… he thought, gritting his teeth. Again…

He tried to get up – but instead he couldn’t even move from where he was. He turned his head… and groaned helplessly.

All his hooves were strapped to the corners of the wide double bed. The pegasus was essentially crucified, like a living love toy. Which he seemed to be for today.

“Lightning!” he shouted angrily into the scrubbed ceiling, twitching in his restraints. “Damn you! How many times can it be?!”

If rumor and fantasy were to be believed, one could imagine the horseplay that took place beneath the ceiling of this room. Even hotter than on the bed, it was said. After all, pegasi were used to living in three dimensions…

Soarin threw back his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Not to look, not to see this bloody place…!

The stallion pulled on the bound limb with all his might, more to check a box than to actually hope for any result. The strap immediately dug into his skin, causing him to hiss through his teeth in pain. No matter how hard Soarin wiggled, the leg could only be moved a few inches.

“I hate you…” he growled, and then he jerked all his hooves again. “I hate you!”

He was seething with anger that needed to be released. But all he could do was scream into the void, for the room was well soundproofed.

It was his anger, by the way, that excited Lightning, who sucked the pale blue pegasus dry in an effort to extract as much perverse pleasure as she could. Giving her lover (and in fact, her slave) a release – and an overwhelming humiliation at the same time.

The events of the past few months flashed through his mind.

It all started with an unexpected vacation that Spitfire sent Soarin on in early November. One of the Wonderbolts’ top flyers had been suddenly found to be missing a lot of weekends helping out with the Ponyville weather team. And coincidence or not, Rainbow Dash was scheduled to work all those shifts. So it wasn’t hard to guess what the reason was.

But work rules come first. So Soarin assured Rainbow that he would be back soon, touched her nose with his, and took the train to Fillydelphia.

And when he got there, the next day came the Lunar Revolution.

At first, he didn’t believe that Princess Luna had turned back into Nightmare Moon, and he urged the ponies around him to come to their senses. When the rallies and torchlight processions began, he had to hide in the back alleys to avoid running into the raging mob. The station was shut down; many ponies fled the city on their own – or flew away.

Soarin decided to return as well – but not in time. Just as he was packing, the rioters broke into the hotel with the ponice – and when they saw a Wonderbolt, considered one of the pillars of Celestia’s regime, on the guest list, they couldn’t pass up such prey.

He spent two months in prison, his wings bandaged. Then he was forcibly assigned to the Fillydelphia weather team since many of the city’s pegasi had gone to the front as part of the Pegasenwaffe.

That same night, he tried to fly away. A thick blanket of clouds hung over the city, driven in by his own team for the morning snowfall. Soarin had hoped it would be enough for his escape.

How damn wrong he had been.

With the last rooftops behind him and hundreds of miles of snowy forest ahead, three dark shadows suddenly appeared beside him (Soarin later realized they were wearing the purple-and-black suits of the Shadowbolts), and over his ear, above the wind, a mare’s harsh voice said, “And how far will you go?”

Soarin flapped his wings even harder to get away, but the three clung to him in the air and used their combined weight to pull him down to the ground, where they bound his legs and wings.

He spent the next two weeks back in prison, suffering from a black eye and a broken nose: resisting arrest always costs a lot. At least everything else was intact, thank goodness.

And then the day came when the cell door swung open and there she stood, the same Shadowbolt mare who had captured him.

Lightning Dust, the Major of the Pegasenwaffe.

“Get up,” she said then. “We need a pegasus like you.”

“We who?” Soarin asked, squinting against the light pouring in from the corridor.

“The New Lunar Republic. General Cloud Skipper, Commander of the Pegasenwaffe. And me.” She smiled predatorily. “After all, such enviable stallions don’t just fall by the wayside.”

“Go to your general and let him fuck you in your stinking mouth,” Soarin snapped at her.

“Wrong answer.”

Lightning Dust gave a subtle shake of her head and was immediately flanked by two earth ponies with intimidating rifles pointed at him.

“It’s your choice, wing boy. Either you shove your worthless pride where you think it belongs and come with me, or we’re gonna haul your body off to the crematorium. Five seconds enough?”

…And just like that, Soarin found himself at cloud base number twelve. A whole flying island with barracks, headquarters and even an airstrip, over which figures in tight flight suits scurried day and night with deadly grace.

Far ahead, to the west, staggered rows of cloud fortifications could be seen. They would not stop a plane, of course, but they would be quite effective against an airborne force. Especially since there were military airfields below.

Upon arrival, Soarin was kept in the brig for another two weeks (apparently to suppress his will to resist sufficiently), after which he was released.

However, there was one tiny nuance.

In the form of a thin collar, almost color-matched to his fur, containing fifty grams of TNT. And naturally, it was within the power of the turquoise pegasus to remove or detonate the collar.

She also carried a stun gun with her all the time. Which was a very convincing argument on her part in any discussion.

The first time she’d ordered the newly minted Pegasenwaffe lieutenant to come to her bedroom, she’d been rebuffed – and had responded by stabbing Soarin in the side with her device. As the stallion twitched in shock, two of Lightning’s guards – now local pegasi – dragged him to the specified place and strapped him to the bed. And then Lightning Dust could finally have her pleasure.

Since then, she had arranged such “entertainment” from time to time. More than once, Soarin had woken up tied to his superior’s bed; worse, he could simply be knocked out and dragged into the bedroom by her guards… whom Lightning seemed to lack for complete relief. Soarin walked and flew now, constantly looking around: what if the “kidnapping” happened again?

At the base, of course, everypony knew about Lightning Dust’s new “favorite” – and looked at the pale blue pegasus with mocking sympathy. Anyway, Soarin had heard a lot of jokes about himself and “how dusty her lightning is” in the first few months. And that made him hate the turquoise mare’s antics all the more.

But most of all, he hated himself. After all, by having sex with Lightning, he was betraying the other one – his love, the one left behind in Equestria.

Yet he could do nothing about it. It was useless to complain over her head, and he would surely be laughed out of the room. If he resisted, he would be electrocuted in the side. And if he tried to fly away, the collar would explode when the signal was lost, or when the button was pressed.

So he just had to do his “stud duty” and wait for something to change.

The door opened and Soarin turned his head.

“Well, how are you in here, my sweetie?” Lightning Dust chirped, stepping inside and locking the door. She tossed the key carelessly with her wing into the corner of the room.

She gave Soarin an appraising look and licked her lips. Lightning was naked too, and she smelled faintly of sweat and excitement.

The stallion felt everything inside him clench and harden.

“You…!” he shouted, his face contorted with rage. “What the hay are you doing, Lightning? Don’t you have anyone else to fuck, you stupid mare?!”

“Wow, look at you go…” Lightning Dust raised an eyebrow and unfolded her wing.

In her feathery grip was the expected stun gun. Lightning flicked it a few times, causing a faint flash, then swayed her hips and headed for the bed.

“D-don’t come near me!” Soarin gasped, twitching in his bonds. “I hate you!”

“Oh, your little friend doesn’t think so.” Lightning smiled.

Soarin glanced down and gulped, blushing thickly. Lightning climbed onto the bed and ran her tongue lightly over his growing stud.

“You’re a freak!” he blurted out. “When will you just leave me alone?!”

The stun gun was shoved in his face in an instant.

“Not until we win,” she said coldly. “Just lie there and don’t move. I’ll get what I need on my own.”

She smirked at the twitch in his cheek.

That’s true, Soarin admitted bitterly. She has no equal in getting her own.

With the shocker removed, Lightning continued to work with her tongue and teeth. Soarin’s cock swelled with each passing second, but the mare didn’t seem to mind, swallowing him deeper and deeper. Such skills must have been partly responsible for her reaching her current rank so quickly.

A few minutes later, she let his cock out of her mouth and grinned at the stallion’s sour face.

“Now…” She moved forward and rubbed her intimate spot on his cock, making him moan. “…let’s get to the fun part.”

Lifting herself up, Lightning thrusted sharply at him. Her eyes rolled blissfully as a moan of pleasure escaped her chest.

Soarin, gritting his teeth, tried not to make a sound. He wasn’t good enough to resist her lust, but he could do little things to ruin her pleasure. When she had moved her croup to his face, he had angrily bitten her right on her wet lower lips. It had cost him a shocker blast, but Soarin still allowed himself a gloating grin at the time. Lightning didn’t give him that opportunity again – and limited herself to simple manipulations of his cock.

She rose and fell rhythmically, her wings flapping to the sides. Soarin had spread them as well but lying on them was a bit painful. Another little torture from the insatiable, domineering mare.

Meanwhile, the excitement of both of them was rapidly rising to a climax. The scent of passion wafted through the room. Lightning was moaning, as if she wanted the whole base to hear her. Soarin breathed hoarsely, unsure what to do: if he tried to ejaculate faster, he would show that he had joined her game; if he lasted longer, he would only give her more pleasure. So he surrendered to fate and let his body decide for him. Mentally, he drifted as far away as he could, calling up different images in his mind.

And the end was near.

Lightning took him completely inside her with a wet thrust and shook with a deep moan as she reached the highest point of pleasure, her eyes closed in delight.

Her insides clenched so tightly that Soarin could not hold on any longer.

“Ah… ah… Rain… bow…” he exhaled, spurting into Lightning.

The turquoise pegasus’ eyes immediately flew open, and she was off him in a flash, spilling the rest of his cum onto the bed.

“What the hay did you just yap, you Equestrian prick?!” she snarled and grabbed the shocker with her wing.

Soarin’s jaw dropped in horror as he realized he had unknowingly shouted the other mare’s name.

But he didn't have time to think about anything else.

The nasty iron jabbed into his side and a powerful bolt of electricity shot through his body.

Lightning zapped him again and again, until the stallion stopped twitching, and the device itself began to emit only idle sparks.

“Fuck, it’s broken,” she grumbled and threw the useless shocker away.

Then she ran her hoof under her tail and licked the mixture of their juices with pleasure.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she muttered to the unconscious Soarin and went to the shower next to the room.

To continue the pleasure punishment later.

I’ll tape his mouth shut, I think, she thought as she stood under the taut water jets. Stallions always talk too much. And this one even more so.

June 21

The rays of the setting sun glided softly over the white, fluffy flanks of the clouds.

Large and majestic, the pegasus city of Cloudsdale floated in the amber evening sky, and nopony seemed to care what was going on down there. All the hardships and troubles seemed so insignificant from a bird’s-eye view, as if they were happening to somepony else and could be ignored while gliding in the fresh breeze.

But the war raging in Equestria had reached this highland corner of the country as well. The city was surrounded by a triple ring of cloud fortifications, with rebar, stones, and even concrete slabs being embedded by pegasi magic. Here and there, winged ponies could be seen expanding and reinforcing the massive, dense curtains.

The base of the Wonderbolts was a separate cluster of flying islands just above and away from the main mass of the city. At the same time, a great deal of space was devoted to cadet training: young pegasi, under the supervision of instructors, were whizzing through cloud obstacle courses, searching for flags in the artificially created three-dimensional maze, or practicing flight leveling after ejection from the centrifuge.

A little farther away was the regular units’ complex, where ponies in the familiar blue-and-yellow flight suits fired from their battle saddles at moving aircraft mockups and engaged in aerial combat.

And rumor had it that somewhere high up there was another minicamp. This was where the flyers of the secret squad were trained, who were so cool that they were usually not even seen in combat uniforms. Including a living legend – an azure mare with a rainbow mane.

…The headquarters building stood on a small island some distance away. From there, one had an excellent view of both the Academy and the city itself, with its cloud fortifications. All to see the sky in detail and make decisions.

A dozen ponies in the blue uniforms of the Equestrian Air Force were assembled in the large meeting room. Only one seat was empty at the long rectangular table, at the left hoof of one end.

General Spitfire stood up and adjusted her dark glasses.

“Alright, everypony! I have called you together to tell you an unpleasant—”

“Look out!” someone shouted, pointing to the window, and everyone fell to the floor.

Indeed, a bright, shiny object was flying at breakneck speed toward the headquarters against the setting sky.

The glass shattered and the white comet slid across the table and crashed into the wall.

As soon as everyone crawled out from under the furniture, they saw the real cause of the commotion.

Rainbow Dash, in a white flight suit with blue lightning bolts, twirled her head at the far wall as she came to her senses. Her goggles were riddled with cracks from the impact.

Spitfire was the first to regain control.

“Captain Dash!” she yelled, running up to the “newcomer” and slapping her across the face. “How many times do I have to tell you there’s a war on, and you can’t fly at these speeds near headquarters!” Spitfire smacked Rainbow on the other cheek. “And besides, can’t you just show up for meetings through the door like decent ponies do?!”

“Uh-oh… my bad, ma’am…” Rainbow mumbled and rose up to her hooves.

“Louder!!!” Spitfire barked in her ear.

“My bad, ma’am!” Rainbow stood at attention.

The others watched the scene with varying emotions: Fleetfoot, Flitter, and Cloudchaser held back giggles; Fast Clip and Whiplash gave each other glum looks; and Thunderlane glared disapprovingly at Rainbow.

“No more of that! Otherwise, I’ll have to take extreme measures!”

“L-like what?”

Spitfire’s eyes flashed angrily. “Like putting the Thunderbolts under the command of another pegasus!”

“No, just not that!” Rainbow shrieked. “You won’t do that!”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” Spitfire said as she calmed down a little and sat back down in her seat. “We’ll see.”

Dash slipped sullenly into the empty seat.

“Well, now that everypony’s here, we can get started. As I said, I’ve received the most unpleasant news. Major?” She glared at Fast Clip.

The white pegasus with the clipped mane and tail and the blue glasses stood up, clutching a clipboard with his wing. “In recent days, intelligence reports said enemy airstrikes in central Equestria had abruptly ceased. At the same time, some of the previously discovered military airfields were empty; most likely, the equipment had been moved elsewhere. At the same time, the Shadowbolts became more active; several of their units were spotted on the approaches to Cloudsdale and Canterlot. But no battle ensued; they disappeared immediately, as if they had seen what they wanted.”

“Why?!” Rainbow slammed her hoof on the table. “You should have hunted them down and asked them what they saw over our cities!”

“Shut up, Dash.” Spitfire sighed wearily. “Go on, Major.”

“We assume they are saving their forces for a decisive strike,” Fast Clip said, no longer looking at the text. “The main target will undoubtedly be Cloudsdale; our lines of cloud fortifications are like apricot pits to the enemy. But there could also be attacks on Ponyville, Canterlot, and the airfields closest to the front if their planes manage to break through our defenses.”

“And when will they attack?” Fleetfoot asked.

“By our estimation,” Spitfire said sadly, “tomorrow morning, June twenty-second. The best time would be four o’clock, just before dawn.”

There was a startled whisper in the crowd.

“Then let us strike first!” Rainbow exclaimed. “Make it three o’clock! I and my squad—”

“One more word, Captain Dash, and you will not have a squad!” Spitfire crossed her hooves over her chest. “We need to strategize how to repel the attack. Otherwise…” She gave everyone a stern look. “Cloudsdale’s doomed.”

…Three hours later, the meeting came to an end.

The ponies were yawning as they left. Considering they’d gone to bed an hour early that day to be woken at two in the morning, they still had a chance to get some sleep.

Rainbow was the last to waddle to the door, but she turned and looked at Spitfire.

“General…” The azure mare bit her lip nervously. “There’s… no news of Soarin?”

Spitfire shook her head. “No reason to assume he’s alive, or… another option, so to speak. But I have faith in him. Soarin was my right hoof… before the war started. He’s a good pegasus. Loyal to Equestria... and to Cloudsdale. If he’s still alive, he’ll be eager to get back, one way or another. You know, from the other side,” she pointed her head at the window, “it’s not that easy.”

“But… what am I supposed to do?”

“Wait and hope, Dash. Wait and hope…”

Late in the evening, Soarin walked down the base corridor, lit by the deadly pale glow of the lamps.

The stallion had spent a few days in the infirmary after the incident. After waiting for him to come to his senses, Lightning Dust raped him again. And didn’t rest until there was nothing left in his not-so-weak testicles. Then she stunned him again, called the guards and told them to take him to the med bay and then come back to her.

Soarin didn’t have time to hear anything else because he passed out at that moment.

But judging by the fact that the major had been calm and nonchalant all week, her subordinates had managed to please her well.

And there was just one more gossip among the personnel.

In the past few days, they had all been training noticeably more than usual. Soarin subconsciously sensed that it would soon come to the point and realized that time was running out. Perhaps the pegasus would finally get a real chance to escape this hell and return to those he had been flying side by side with for more than a year.

Especially the one who had conquered his previously serene soul.

And it would be such a shame to mess that up now.

So he acted like everyone else. But he also observed. He compared facts. He drew conclusions. And finally, he made a plan for himself to carry it out.

And when they were given a full day’s rest, Soarin realized it was time.

Tomorrow would be too late.

And tomorrow, things could change so dramatically that not only his life, but all of Equestria would never be the same.

So he had to take matters into his own hooves right now. Do what his mind told him to do to calm his racing heart.

He was looking for a certain pony that night. The one that had captured him and caused him so much pain – and yet held the key to his freedom.

And when he saw her walking back to her quarters after the meeting with her superiors, he was finally convinced that the luck was on his side.

“Major Lightning!” he called to the turquoise mare, who was marching off as if lost in her own thoughts.

Lightning Dust jerked her head and stopped. Her light brown eyes focused on the stallion.

“What d’you want?” she muttered. “Go to your room. We’ll all be woken up at night.”

“That’s why I’m looking for you.”

Lightning Dust arched an eyebrow, and Soarin boldly took a few steps closer.

“I… have something to confess to you.”

“And what’s that?” She snorted contemptuously. “What, you think you can escape me by coming out? It won’t work. I bound you to me to get back at you and that rainbow bitch. I hope she sees you in a Shadowbolt uniform and puts a bullet in her head. Or maybe she will want to shoot you first. But she won’t.” Lightning’s lips curled up into a smirk. “Because I’ll shoot her first.”

“I… realized a lot of what she did to you.” Soarin took a deep breath. “Being kicked out of the Academy because of her was wrong. Mean. Unfair. And… I understand why you became the way you did. So…” He hesitated a moment, choosing his words. “Determined. Bold. Risky. And I wish I could be like you. But among the Wonderbolts, I’d be just like everyone else, I wouldn’t stand out. But here…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “This is the first time I’ve had a chance to become truly stronger. And I want you to help me with that.”

He was sickened by the words he spoke. If it weren’t for the constant reminder that it was all for a good cause, he would have vomited right at her hooves. But he held back, knowing he didn’t have long to embarrass himself.

I’m sorry, Rainbow, he thought. This is the only way. For our own good.

But his words had served their purpose. At least Lightning’s gaze became slightly interested.

“And in what way, may I ask?” she said. “I want only one thing from you. The Republic also wants only one thing from you, but it’s different. Neither I nor the Republic gives a damn what you want for yourself. Just do as you’re told and don’t think about anything else. Right now, I’m telling you to fuck off, and you will. Otherwise,” she touched the holster with the shocker hanging at her side, “I’ll make you do it.”

“Please, Major…” Soarin took another step forward, so they were almost next to each other. “Give me a chance. Let me… prove my loyalty. And…” A lump rose sharply in his throat, and the stallion swallowed hastily. “Let me… love you.”

In the next instant, he lunged forward, scooped Lightning into an embrace, and kissed her hard on the lips. They were wet and sticky, but that was the least of his concerns right now.

A turquoise hoof smacked into his nose, causing him to jerk back. Knowing what was coming, Soarin tried to relax his muscles. The impending electric shock made him fall to the floor and convulse.

Lightning put down the shocker and grimaced. “Look at you. What a pathetic sight! You think you’re gonna be strong… Dream on!”

She kicked him angrily in the jaw and trotted off, leaving him lying on the floor.

As the clatter of her hooves faded into the distance, Soarin stopped twitching and sat up. Then, quietly at first, but growing louder by the second, he started to laugh.

I did it after all. Jackpot!

With his front legs, the stallion held the thing that would lead him to freedom. It was the thing he had covered with his body from Lightning’s gaze as he fell to the floor.

A small black remote control from an explosive collar.

There were three buttons on the device: red, blue, and green. The blue one was labeled “bind”; the other two needed no explanation.

It must be the link between the remote and the tracker in the collar, Soarin reasoned. If they’re connected by a certain radio signal, and that signal is interrupted when they’re separated, the collar will explode. Well, that’s smart. And practical. Bravo, you assholes.

He pressed the green button.

Nothing happened.

It shouldn’t have.

His hoof picked up the hated accessory and tore it from his neck. Judging by its weight, the band of cloth really did contain some explosives.

Soarin laughed and let out a triumphant cheer, but immediately turned down the volume. Not that Major Dust would come back to find out why he was having such a good time.

Pushing himself off the floor, Soarin took off and raced down the corridor to his squad’s quarters. On the fly, he stuffed the collar and the remote control into his uniform pocket.

He would need them later.

June 22

3:50 a.m.

“You can’t smoke around here, sir.”

“Huh?”

The batpony in the flight helmet turned around with a cigarette in his hoof.

A refueling truck, driven by a stubby earth pony, pulled up to the bomber on the taxiway. On a long platform behind the cab, an elongated tank swayed slightly.

The driver was now standing on the car’s step and looked reproachfully at the pilot, who was leaning carelessly against the landing gear.

“You can’t smoke around here,” the earth pony repeated. “It’s gas.”

“How I’m sick of you all…” the thestral muttered, adding a few words in a whisper. Then he tossed the half-smoked cigarette onto the pavement and crushed the butt with his hoof. “Happy now?”

“Thank you, sir,” the earth pony replied nonchalantly and jumped down from the step.

He pulled a coiled hose from the cabin and, holding one end in his teeth, climbed to the roof of the car. Reaching the bottom of the plane, he opened the flap and inserted the hose. Then he climbed down and connected the other end of the hose to the tank.

“A-a-and… here we go.” He unscrewed the valve, opening the fuel supply, and looked at the thestral, who was staring sullenly at his own hooves. “Sir, why would you need all this fuel? The order request has enough to fly to Canterlot and back—”

The pilot gave him a sideways glance and turned away.

It was early morning. The eastern horizon had just turned yellow, and the landscape around them was filled with predawn twilight.

The military airfield lay in a meadow east of the tree line, a short strip of asphalt connected by a taxiway to hangars and garages. The control room and administrative offices were on the second floor.

The hangar, however, was empty. The only plane on the airfield was now refueling on the runway. And except for the faint splash of fuel being pumped into the tanks and the faint singing of birds somewhere in the forest, this corner of Equus was completely silent.

Like the calm before a merciless storm.

“Why are you here alone? Have all the others left?” The attendant inquired further. “You have a special mission, don’t you?”

“Just shut up or I’ll put this hose through you,” growled the batpony and ostentatiously took out another cigarette. But before he lit it, he moved to a safe distance, just in case.

As he exhaled the smoke, the webbed-winged stallion looked to the west, where Celestia’s lands stretched far, far beyond the tree line. Even now, after the formerly single country had split into a multitude of warring states, the main stump was still the largest. And undoubtedly quite formidable.

And somewhere out there, in the distance, lay the target of his desperate flight.

The batpony bared his fangs.

A mission, yeah… To pay back those bastards who justify their atrocities with their fucking friendship.

He tossed and stubbed out his cigarette, then carefully removed a faded photograph from his breast pocket.

In the picture, blinking from the flash, a happy family of three thestrals smiled with fangy grins. Behind them a verdant landscape stretched out, and just off to the side it looked as if a picnic area had been prepared.

A backdrop from the Ponderosa photo studio, where they had once managed to take this picture. Gritting his teeth, the stallion remembered how he had spent a good quarter of an hour begging the unicorn studio owner to let the three of them in.

Turning the picture over, he read the inscription they had made together, each in his own mouthwriting:

Radom + Speck = Starry

Just below that was the date, which he had written himself: 07/16/1007.

I will have my revenge, he thought and put the picture away. For everything they’ve done to you.

Suddenly, a rumbling sound came from somewhere above and to the east, growing louder by the second. Radom lifted his head and shielded his eyes from the rising sun with his hoof, staring up at the dawning sky.

Soon, an entire squadron of the Pegasenwaffe swept across the field, blue dots almost blending into the canopy of the sky at the zenith, even more so to the west.

We will.

The batpony started to take out another cigarette but looked at his hoof-watch instead. It read two minutes to four in the morning.

It’s time. Time is of the essence. They’ll all face retribution today. One that will make all of Equestria shudder.

He looked away from the watch and walked back to the airplane.

The attendant was already disconnecting the hose from the fuel tank.

“All done. You’ve got it, signed and sealed.” The earth pony looked curiously at the thestral again. “Hmm, with so much fuel, there’s less room for bombs. Maybe they’re special bombs? For some very important enemies?”

“Believe me,” Radom said, his cheek twitching as he climbed into the cockpit, “you can’t imagine how important.”

A picture flashed before his eyes of a refueling pony screaming in terror as he was strapped by his own hose to the fuselage of a flying aircraft, but every movement only loosened the knot, bringing the chatterer closer to an imminent fall.

Radom grinned with the corners of his lips and slammed the canopy shut.

The refueler, meanwhile, was speeding down the taxiway toward the airfield buildings.

I’ll have my revenge, Starry, the thestral thought as he started the engine. Those bastards will choke to death in their own shit. And I’ll— He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. And I’ll see you again soon. You and Speck. May the Night Princess protect our souls.

The dark blue bomber with the crescent moon on its side began its run – and soon lifted off the ground and soared into the air.

The refueler, on the other hoof, made it back to the hangars and parked on the side walkway.

As soon as the earth pony jumped out of the cockpit, two pegasi in black Lunar Division uniforms landed beside him.

“Corporal Alter Drive, you are charged with espionage and revealing state secrets,” one of the LDs said in a protocol tone. “Articles 114 and 328 of the NLR Criminal Code. Under wartime conditions, you are sentenced to be shot on sight for such offenses.”

The earth pony, who was listening to all this with his mouth hanging open, flinched to run away…

The pistol clenched in the teeth of the second pegasus rattled, and the fuel attendant fell to the asphalt with a hole in his forehead and an expression of genuine surprise on his face.

As if he had no idea what he was dying for.

4:20 a.m.

As the dawn sun tickled the cloud tops with its golden fingers, a scattering of approaching dark dots appeared on the horizon, hidden in its rays.

They approached very quickly: soon they grew in size and spread out into the air, enveloping the sky city in a hemisphere.

The Equestrians did not hesitate. Fighters soared from the ground-based cover airfields and runways in Cloudsdale itself, and pegasus squads deployed along the lines of the cloud fortifications to defend them.

Spitfire watched from the hovering platform where the headquarters stood, protected by only two anti-aircraft guns. The crews were commanded by Major Whiplash, her trusted assistant for the twelve years she had led the Wonderbolts. Now, because of the war, they’d all been bumped up in rank, but among the ponies themselves, it didn’t really matter. They were all more united than ever – ready to fight off any threat, even at the cost of their own lives.

But by the time the enemy reached headquarters, it would be too late to do anything about it.

As the flexible figures of pegasi in purple-and-black suits appeared alongside the planes in her powerful binoculars, Spitfire put on her flight goggles, adjusted her blue-and-yellow jumpsuit, and flew brightly into the vast morning sky.

The air battle was no longer just to the east, but on all sides of the city. Dark blue fighters machine-gunned the first line of cloud fortifications, and Shadowbolt units moved into the gaps. They were immediately taken by the Wonderbolts. Flying at dizzying speeds through the tight cloud maze was reminiscent of Academy training, or the sky paintball that pegasi sometimes enjoyed. Only now it was real: guns, bullets… and death. And bodies that no one would catch as they fell.

And the Pegasenwaffe’s planes were engaged by white Equestrian fighters. Firing machine-gun bursts and performing wild maneuvers, they tried to keep the enemy planes out of the city and deep into Equestria. If a bomber tried to get past the fighting steel birds, it would be met by Cloudsdale’s air defense system, a scattering of hovering platforms covered with magical shields.

Hovering above the semi-hollow cloud globe that Cloudsdale had become, Spitfire and several pegasi flew out behind the fortifications. The Shadowbolts were especially numerous here, and it was important to reduce their numbers as quickly as possible.

After shooting one from her battle saddle, the yellow pegasus knocked out another with a hoof strike and, grabbing him like a living weapon, brought the third down with the heavy body. A sudden shot caused her to duck and fire at random. As she turned, Spitfire saw Blaze – one could almost say her younger counterpart – knock the hapless gunner to the ground.

Spitfire raised her hoof gratefully – and immediately, spotting a fighter flying by, threw out a hoof tether. It stuck to the fuselage with a powerful magical magnet, and the mare was pulled along at incredible speed. Spitfire flapped her wings and, flying close to the crescent-shaped emblem, placed a powerful explosive charge directly on it. Then she started the timer, snapped the tether, and dove back into the chaos of battle.

A few seconds later, an explosion rang out, and the plane, never reaching the fortifications, spiraled downward, going into a tailspin.

A short distance away, a scatter of white glittering dots flashed, like meteors or electrical discharges. And looking closer, one of them was followed by a prismatic trail.

Fleetfoot glanced up as she took down the next enemy. There, in the zenith, despite the turmoil of the battle, a dark blue speck was moving westward. For a moment, she wondered if she should run towards it or stay here.

But planes were usually fought by planes. Besides, as cynical as it might sound, one bombing wouldn’t change much. Canterlot would be covered by a shield, or the plane would be shot down by air defenses, or whatever. But if they didn’t stop the Pegasenwaffe at Cloudsdale, then all of Equestria would be in trouble.

As she looked closer, though, Fleetfoot noticed something else that made her shiver.

Something small and dark was falling over the cloud city, detached from the bomber.

And the plane, after dropping its deadly cargo, did not turn back – it kept flying westward.

Fleetfoot had no time to do anything. So, in the confusion of the battle, she looked for Spitfire, pointed at the falling bomb, and with a heavy heart, she rejoined the fight.

The anti-aircraft guns rumbled almost imperceptibly in the general rumble – and the bomb exploded in a cloud of pink gas slowly descending over the city.

8:44 a.m.

Fuel was running low. The engines thudded and hummed, but the twin propellers kept pulling the plane stubbornly into the distance.

Radom, his fangs bared, stared at the terrain below, occasionally checking the map on the dashboard. He wasn’t flying as high as he had over Cloudsdale, but he didn’t need to. All that mattered was not to be shot down before the time was up. Only one bomb had been dropped so far; two more were waiting in other bays.

Bastards… Assholes… You’ll pay for everything… the batpony thought, as if stirring his viscous rage in a boiling cauldron. You took my son and my wife from me, and I’ll take all of Equestria from you!

Without taking his hooves from the controls, he looked down at his flight uniform, where a photograph lay in his breast pocket. A memory that was now more precious to him than not only his life, but the lives of all the other ponies.

He had agreed to this mission knowing that it would be a one-way trip. Knowing that if he succeeded, many ponies would die, especially children like his Starry. It was the last favor the Night Princess could grant him, and the last gift he could give her and her people.

Soon, a vast wooded valley appeared ahead. In a wide field cleared of trees was a small settlement, with a few old homesteads scattered a little farther away. The batpony grinned, even though there were tears in his eyes. The desired location was circled in bold red on the inset in the bottom corner of the map.

The valley gradually descended to a lake, into which a river flowed through a crescent-shaped canyon. In Thestral lore, revived under the new regime, this was an ancient place of pilgrimage and power. Taken from the Night Tribe a thousand years ago by despicable Equestrian scum and invaders.

It was we, the Thestrals, who dug this canyon in ancient times. We were the strongest, the chosen tribe of ponies! We were feared and respected… And now, Radom licked his lips, we will be feared again.

He abruptly jerked the stick away from him, steering the bomber down to aim more accurately.

Two runs… only two… Can’t make a mistake… Must kill as many of these creeps as possible!!!

The plane glided over the terrain, approaching the right spot. There was a park around the manor house, which was directly in front of the plane, empty at this time: everypony must be hiding inside the building.

Radom shook his head slightly. It won’t help.

The distance to the target continued to shrink. The batpony’s hoof was already on the button to open the second bomb bay…

BANG!!!

A massive impact shook the plane; Radom almost bit his tongue as he jumped up in his seat. The machine began to lurch sharply to the right. Reflexively, the thestral looked to the left and saw that the left wing was almost gone, and the engine was bursting with black smoke and flames.

There was no time to stall. Radom pressed the button. Take that, bitches!!!

The clanging of the flaps announced that the second bomb had been dropped. However, there was no way for the batpony to see where it would fall now.

The plane flew over the School of Friendship and, smoking and losing altitude, headed for Crescent Moon Canyon.

There, in the black stone cliffs, Celestia had personally designed an entire architectural complex that went deep underground. The new home of the Sun Princess’ School for Gifted Unicorns.

The third and final target of Radom’s suicide mission.

There was one bomb left. But the batpony could not drop it in the usual way. The woods and meadows were getting closer, and there was no guarantee that the plane wouldn’t crash sooner than necessary.

Radom roared and yanked the stick as hard as he could towards himself and to the left.

“NOOOOOO!!! NOT NOW!!!”

The mission must be accomplished.

The valley sloped down, allowing him to maintain some height above the ground. The canyon was close, and he could see the outline of the School’s facade ahead of him.

Even though the school was named after the ruler of Equestria, she didn’t visit her personal institute for training court mages very often. Especially since the war had begun with its relocation.

Although Celestia’s shield could cover all of Canterlot, it was up to the alicorn to create the magical field.

An attack as bold as this was simply not expected. The two schools that had been moved to one location were actually unguarded.

The burning engine finally exploded, and the plane, no longer gliding, rocketed downward.

Only it had a short distance to go in a straight line.

A quivering pinkish force field bubble suddenly wrapped around the black stone facade. Apparently created by the School’s students.

But against a bomber flying at full speed, several dozen young unicorns were completely powerless.

“I’m coming, Speck…” Radom whispered, his hooves shaking as he steered the plane straight for the School.

A pinkish bubble burst as the nose of the falling steel machine pierced the force field.

With a deafening rumble, the bomber crashed into the canyon slope, riddled with alicorn magic.

An explosion rang out. Shattered rocks flew. Flames flared for a moment, then a heavy pink mist began to fill the canyon.

8:51 a.m.

“Please don’t crowd… Come in, come in quickly.”

A white unicorn with a pink mane stood at the door and let everypony into the stairwell. The students of the School of Friendship (some with their parents who had brought them to class) descended into the basement of the ancient building in an organized and silent manner. An alarm siren wailed in the corridors.

“Miss Twinkleshine, how long is this gonna be?” asked a pink filly with a red-yellow-lilac mane and a turquoise-purple tail. Her white friend with lilac and yellow-green curls stood beside her.

Dinky could never remember their names, even though she had been studying with them for months. The pink one looked like a jellybean to her, and the white one like a marshmallow with jam.

“I hope not too long, Toola Roola,” the teacher sighed. “Come quickly, there are more ponies here.”

Once the two friends had made their way to the stairs, it was Dinky and her mom’s turn. Ditzy Doo was hugging her daughter tightly by the side, and Dinky knew the gray pegasus would make sure nothing happened to her “little muffin.”

“It’s good to have you here, Miss Ditzy,” Twinkleshine said. “I hope you’ll help us keep things calm and orderly. The most important thing is to keep the children from being scared.”

“Of course,” Ditzy smiled in her carefree way. “I’d love to.”

Dinky looked at her mother. It was as if she wasn’t afraid at all, and if she was, she was hiding her fear well.

Then I won’t be afraid either. Dinky even puffed up a little with pride. I’ll be just like Mom!

The gray pegasus and her unicorn daughter went down to the basement with everyone else. There they were greeted by Miss Lemon Hearts, a teacher of mutual aid and the psychology of friendship.

“Don’t linger in the aisle, sit on an empty seat…” the yellow pony instructed everyone.

She smiled warmly at Ditzy and Dinky, but the filly thought the teacher was hiding her fear behind false friendliness.

War is scary, Dinky thought as she and her mother made their way through the crowd of ponies and sat down on the floor in the middle of the basement. Everypony is scared. But Mommy isn’t. Or is she? And do I have to be? No, Mommy’s with me. And if she is, I have nothing to be afraid of. My mom will protect me. Or I’ll protect her. Won’t we? Right?

The filly nuzzled against the pegasus’ gray side and poked at the bubbles on her cutie mark as if bursting them. It was their little game that Ditzy sometimes entertained Dinky with.

Dinky also liked to burst the bubble wrap. It crunched so funny! It gave her joy, and any fear or sadness went away instantly.

And thinking back, Dinky thought that she really wasn’t afraid anymore.

Well, maybe a little. Just a little.

She lifted her head and looked around the basement, where she had never been before.

It was a large, dimly lit room with solid stone walls and no windows. In the corners were all sorts of mops, brooms, jigsaws, and other cleaning and technical equipment that the foals who had come down here were already playing with. And more than two hundred ponies could easily fit in here.

After letting the last group of students in, Twinkleshine ran down the stairs with them, and Lemon Hearts, with a few words of encouragement, telekinesed the massive steel door shut with a solid deadbolt.

“At-ten-tion!” The yellow mare tapped her hooves, catching the eyes of all gathered. “Please do not panic. As we know, there is only one plane approaching. I’m sure it’s already being dealt with by our military. We won’t all be here for long. I think it’ll be over in about ten minutes—”

There was a whistle, muffled by the thick walls but still frightening, and Dinky’s heart sank somewhere down.

Mommy… is that really what bombs sound like?

The whistling grew… and was suddenly replaced by a deafening cracking sound, as if a shell was breaking through the ceilings. Dinky screamed and fell into her mother’s lap, covering her ears with her hooves.

For a moment, everyone screamed over the noise…

And then the whole thing exploded in a way that shook the ground.

The massive steel door was thrown inward and smashed into the opposite wall, crushing the ponies huddled there. A stream of pink, dense gas poured into the room.

Dinky didn’t have time to realize it before the wave, which looked like a strawberry glaze, reached her and Ditzy. Her fur tingled wildly, and the little unicorn cried out in pain.

“Don’t breathe!” her mother’s hoof covered her mouth and nose.

Dinky obediently held her breath. Ditzy threw her daughter onto her back and began to make her way through the maddened crowd of screaming ponies toward the exit.

Someone ran past her, shouting and grabbing at… something that resembled a nose as long as a trunk of an elephant from distant Zebrica. The pink mist stung her entire body, and Dinky clenched her eyes shut, trying desperately not to whimper in pain.

Suddenly, she felt that Ditzy had fallen to the floor and was no longer moving.

“Mommy…!” she blurted out.

But it was a mistake.

The pink gas went down her throat and Dinky coughed as if she had eaten a hot pepper. Tears spurted from her eyes – and then she couldn’t see at all because of the pain, as if soap had been splashed on her corneas. Dinky couldn’t even scream: the gas had reached her lungs and was eroding her from the inside out.

Ditzy continued to lie motionless.

Mommy…!

Dinky reached out blindly with her little hooves, hoping to find a familiar, warm side – but instead she found a slimy, muddy mess. Furthermore, Dinky’s front legs went in without resistance, and in the next moment she realized that she was stuck, her consciousness fading from the unbearable pain. And then her body began to melt as well.

Mother and daughter froze on the basement floor, fused together.

There were no more screams. The pink gas muffled the sounds well.

And left no witnesses to its use.

11:24 a.m.

They stood facing each other, three by three; each trio on their own cloud, broken off from the shattered fortifications.

The battle still raged around them – but they seemed to have formed an island of relative calm.

Lightning Dust grinned. At her sides and just behind her stood two Shadowbolts, their battle saddles aimed at Fleetfoot and Thunderlane.

“Here we meet again, Spitfire.”

The fiery yellow mare spat, glaring at her turquoise opponent in a purple-and-black suit. Both had their goggles pulled up on top of their heads.

“I had no doubt you’d choose this side of the battle, Lightning,” Spitfire hissed. “You had more shit in you than any cadet I’ve ever trained.”

“Oh, so you still believe that rainbow bitch?” Lightning Dust spun her head. “Where is she, by the way?”

“I’m here!”

Leaving a rainbow trail behind her, Rainbow Dash landed like a meteorite on a small cloud floating off to the side. The pegasus’ ruby eyes glared hatefully at Lightning.

“What the hay are you wearing?” Lightning laughed at the sight of Rainbow’s white-and-blue suit. “Don’t the Wonder-suckers have any paint left?”

“I’ll show you…”

Rainbow kicked up a cloud with her hoof and ducked, ready to lunge at her opponent.

Lightning lifted her hoof.

“One-on-one combat. No fighting saddles, just bare hooves. I want to pay you back for everything you’ve done to me.”

“It’s your own fault, Dust,” Rainbow said and stood up. “So be it. I accept your challenge.”

Lightning grinned. “Then let’s not waste any time.”

She threw off the heavy harness first, and Rainbow did the same.

“Guys, they’re on to you!” Lightning shouted to the Shadowbolts and sped towards Rainbow faster than the eye could follow.

The two pegasi spun at unimaginable speeds in a frenzied dance of battle.

The Shadowbolts were immediately joined by another one, and the three of them rushed at the Wonderbolts.

Lightning and Rainbow traded blows like two fighting machines. Their hooves either hit a block or smacked into the air. The longtime rivals fought with all their might – and neither could get the upper hoof.

Lightning kicked away with her hind leg, and the pegasi flew apart… only to glare back at each other and come back together in hoof-to-hoof combat.

Lightning grabbed Rainbow by the back of the head and headbutted her twice in the nose. Blood spurted into the air. Dash didn’t hesitate to stab her in the cheek, and when Dust ducked, Rainbow hit her in the flank with a spinning kick.

With a hiss of pain, Lightning leaned back and smashed her head into Rainbow’s belly. With a flap of her wings, the turquoise pegasus grabbed her rival by the tail with her teeth and spun her around, launching her into the distance like a centrifuge.

Rainbow leveled up in a flash, as if in training, and dashed at her opponent. The pegasi clashed, flying a hundred yards before crashing into a patch of cloud floating nearby.

Rainbow raised her hoof for another strike, but Lightning grinned as she swung her hind legs and smacked her in the chin. With her head thrown back, Rainbow soared upward – and then somersaulted backward into the air, glaring hatefully at the towering Lightning.

“You’re a pretty good fighter.” Dash drew her hoof across her bloody face and spat red. “But I won’t let you win!”

“Really?” Dust grinned and charged at her.

The mares clashed again. This time, however, their movements were less lightning-fast and more calculated. And dangerous, too: when she dodged a millimetre from Lightning’s hoof, Rainbow thought she might as well have blown her ear off.

“You know… what’s your biggest problem?” breathing heavily, the turquoise pegasus asked, not stopping her attacks.

“Yours… will soon be knocked out teeth… and a hole in your head!” Rainbow snapped back with a series of punches, none of which hit the target.

“You ain’t gonna get it.”

Lightning headbutted again – but Rainbow reeled back and even flew a few feet away. The turquoise mare flapped her wings and was close again.

“All of you sunfuckers…” Lightning wrapped her forelegs around Rainbow’s waist. “…are too…” Dust’s wing bent sharply, touching the holster on her belt. “…gullible!”

There was an electric crackle. Rainbow’s eyes widened and she convulsed in Lightning’s grip.

Lightning Dust grinned as she saw her rival’s face contorted in pain.

Soon, the azure pony collapsed, and the turquoise one’s hooves unclenched.

Like a broken toy, Rainbow flew downward and landed on her back on a cloud. Her white flight suit was smeared with blood.

Lightning laughed, holding the stun gun with her hoof.

“Well, where’s your superpower now, Miss Twenty Percent Cooler?!”

Slowly flapping her wings, she descended on the same cloud and stood over her defeated opponent.

“For so many years, I’ve been waiting for a chance to pay you back…” she growled, staring into Rainbow’s bloodied face. “You betrayed me to that bitch Spitfire, and she kicked me out of the Academy! You humiliated me in front of everypony and that schmuck Scooterfly, or whatever her name is… You destroyed the reputation of my flying team! And now,” Lightning grinned bloodily again, “you’re gonna pay for it… sun-cunt. Though… a powerless wimp like you” – she poked a weakly cowering Rainbow with her hoof – “can wait. While I take care of the one who raised you!”

She pushed off the cloud and soared upward, toward the aerial battle between the six pegasi that was in full swing.

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened.

“Spitfire!”

The blue pony moved. But all she could do was roll over onto her belly and reach out her trembling hoof after Lightning Dust.

Who was flying off to kill Rainbow’s chief and mentor.

Spitfire, Fleetfoot, and Thunderlane exchanged fire in the air with the attacking Shadowbolts. But bullets were useless against the incredible somersaults the trained pegasi performed without thinking.

Lightning Dust jumped onto the cloud where she had been standing and put her battle saddle back on. Then she spread her wings and soared up, aiming her rifles.

Spitfire’s opponent dodged the new burst and clashed with Wonderbolt's head in a hoof-to-hoof battle. The fiery yellow mare grabbed her opponent, kicked him in the balls, and threw the pegasus down.

Straight at the approaching Lightning.

The turquoise pegasus ducked under the speeding body and headed straight for Spitfire. The two mares locked gazes. While Lightning had a triumphant grin on her face, fear flashed in Spitfire’s eyes for the first time.

Thunderlane knocked his Shadowbolt down with a powerful punch and looked up. The black pegasus’ eyes widened in horror.

Spitfire’s wings flapped downward, helping her to propel herself out of the air and leap to the side… But with her back brain, the mare already knew she wouldn’t make it.

Two shots rang out.

The grin on Lightning’s face was replaced by a grimace of anger, and she spun sharply out of the line of fire. Bullets whistled past her back.

Spitfire’s jaw dropped and her eyes were ready to pop out of their sockets. She stared in disbelief at the stallion hovering before her.

Thunderlane smiled and released the cables of his battle saddle. Blood trickled from the corners of his lips. Two bleeding holes gaped in his flight suit, staining the clouds below with red.

“Thunderlane!” Fleetfoot cried out in terror.

The white-maned pegasus also slaughtered her opponent and immediately flew up to Spitfire. The two of them held the bleeding Thunderlane down and placed him on one of the clouds floating below.

Lightning landed on a nearby one, her face twisted with rage as she watched the scene.

“Thunderlane, stay alive!” Fleetfoot began unpacking the small first-aid kit she had brought with her. “Take off the suit, we have to stop the blood—”

“Too late, Fleet…” He smiled weakly and coughed. “Tell Rumble… ugh… that his brother… ahhm… died for a good reason…”

One of the pegasus medics was already flying towards them, dodging blasts and explosions.

Lightning Dust roared and grabbed the cables of her battle saddle with her teeth, ready to shoot them all…

“Not that fast, Major,” came a calm voice behind her.

A thin blue collar snapped around the turquoise pegasus’ neck.

Lightning turned and stared at the Shadowbolt standing behind her.

“You…!”

“Goodbye, Lightning,” he said as he flew away and pressed a button on the small remote control he held in his hooves.

Lightning Dust’s head exploded, spraying its contents for several meters.

And the pegasus in the purple-and-black suit took off his shiny yellow goggles and pulled the intimidating dark mask off his head.

“Soarin!!!” came a shriek from somewhere below.

In the next instant, a rainbow comet flew towards him, and the pegasus found himself lying on a cloud, being crushed by someone from above.

“Rainbow…” he gasped, looking up at the bloodied face of the mare looming over him.

“Soarin…!”

A few hot tears mixed with blood fell down the stallion’s cheek, and in a second, he was holding Rainbow tight as she cried out.

“I… waited… for so long… all this time… I thought you were dead…” she sobbed, her face pressed into his Shadowbolt suit. “I even wanted to… fly to save you…”

“Shhh…” he whispered, stroking her back. “It’s okay. We’re together again. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to come back for so long… and now I’m finally here.”

At the sight of the ponies fussing over the injured Thunderlane, Soarin lowered his head and turned his gaze away.

“However,” he gritted his teeth, “I got revenge on that bitch for at least one pony.”

Rainbow looked that way – and shook again with a cry.

“No!!! Thunderlane!!!”

The black pegasus wheezed, then coughed again… and fell silent. The medic pressed his ear to his chest, cursed through his teeth, and began indirect chest compressions while Fleetfoot performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Spitfire silently held his body.

Several minutes went by, but nothing changed.

The pegasus medic slowly stood up and shook his head. Fleetfoot was still lying there, her mouth pressed to Thunderlane’s lips as if she didn’t want to break that last kiss.

Spitfire stared blankly into space. But soon she raised her head and looked at the current battle scene.

There was still some skirmishing going on, with the remaining fighters chasing each other and the pegasus defenders and attackers firing at each other from behind the clouds. But there was far less commotion than there had been at dawn.

Cloudsdale had held. But it had come at a cost.

Here and there, pieces of the cloud fortifications floated in the air. Blood was everywhere, glistening on clots of magically compacted condensate in the bright sunlight. And the plain below was undoubtedly littered with the bodies of pegasi who had fallen from a mile high.

All that remained was to record the outcome of this battle.

“Dash,” Spitfire said quietly. “You know what to do.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rainbow sobbed, and as she freed herself from Soarin’s embrace, she took to the air.

She soared to dizzying heights – and then rocketed downward, accelerating to breathtaking speeds.

Her Sonic Rainboom literally swept the remaining planes and troops of the Pegasenwaffe out of the sky, while the city’s defenders, mostly hidden behind walls of clouds, barely noticed that.

This battle was over. And hardly anypony would want to remember it ever again.

The dead Thunderlane was covered with a sheet and carried away with the rest of the unfortunates. A queue of pegasi injured in the battle lined up at the infirmary, which had been built out of cloud fragments. Some were wounded badly enough to receive first aid, then were loaded onto stretchers and transported to the nearby city. There were a number of Shadowbolts among the suffering, but everypony understood Spitfire’s direct orders: treat everyone and deal with the captives later. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to replenish the exchange fund.

The fiery pegasus herself was watching the commotion, standing atop the surviving cloud fortifications. A powerful pair of binoculars hung from a strap around her neck. She wasn’t using them right now, though. And in her gaze as she looked out over the battle-strewn city, there was only endless weariness.

Victory… defeat… What do these lofty words mean when so many lives have been cut short, so many souls maimed in just half a day? Spitfire thought to herself. What was it all for? What were they willing to fight for, and what were we? Does anything even matter at all? We won the battle, yes, but for some of us, the whole fucking war will be lost forever.

And yet the mare stood tall, her head held high.

Despite everything, they had won. And now she carried the weight of her hard-won victory.

As the rustle of wings and the soft swish of hooves against the cloud sounded behind her, Spitfire already knew who had come with the reports.

“Go ahead, Fast Clip,” she sighed, looking over her shoulder. “First of all, what was it about that plane? What kind of weird bomb was that? And what’s the damage?”

“Apparently, the bomb was filled with an extremely toxic gas,” he reported in a hoarse voice. “It’s heavier than air and very absorbent, even in clouds. Some areas in the northwestern part of the city have been affected. These clouds are no longer habitable: those who have touched them complain of an inflammation that still won’t go away. In fact, a few percent of the cloud pool will have to be collected, drained, and buried.”

“Exactly. What about HQ?” Spitfire turned to Fast Clip. “Had Whiplash and his stallions managed to evacuate?”

He looked away – and that was more eloquent than any answer.

“They were… in the middle of the kill zone,” he said slowly. “Believe me, you don’t want to see what they’ve become. We had to… burn their bodies because… even as they were… they continued to spread that pink poison.”

Spitfire gritted her teeth. Then she took out her pocket and put on her usual tinted glasses. Then she tilted her head back to keep her eyes dry.

“Go on.”

It took a tremendous effort of will to keep her voice steady.

“In general, our losses are less than the enemy’s, by all accounts, including the planes hit—”

A shot rang out below, making both of them jump. Screams were heard, and the pegasi, abandoning the task of keeping the clouds in order, rushed toward the noise.

Spitfire’s glance at Fast Clip was enough.

He leapt from the ephemeral platform and glided at full speed toward the center of the action. The mare followed him with her eyes and turned her gaze westward. In the direction the vicious bomber had flown.

I hope it was shot down. Otherwise, our entire air defense isn’t worth a bit.

A few minutes later, Fast Clip was back on the cloud. The pegasus looked even grimmer this time than when he’d reported on Whiplash’s fate.

“Non-combat losses,” he said briefly. “Suicide from emotional shock.”

“Who?” Spitfire asked.

Not that she really cared. Just another fact to file away in her subcortex and stab herself with every now and then, like a needle, when she remembered her own failures.

“Fleetfoot.”

Spitfire took off her glasses and stared at Fast Clip, eyes wide. Her hoof that held the accessory shook slightly.

“How…?”

“All of a sudden. Nopony had time to do anything. Most likely…” the pegasus chewed his lip, “it was because of Thunderlane. They must have been… quite close. To say the least.”

Spitfire herself had seen the way they looked at each other during the meetings. As if saying more with those glances and those faint, at first sight friendly smiles than a writer could say with an entire novel.

They had looked… and they would never look again.

“Interrogate Soarin,” she ordered quietly and turned away again. “We need to know everything about the inner workings of the Pegasenwaffe. Get every bit of information out of him. Otherwise, we’ll—”

Suddenly she was interrupted by movement to the north. Fast Clip himself froze, staring into the distance.

With a trembling hoof, Spitfire brought the binoculars to her eyes and turned the magnification to maximum. She looked at the distant mountain range… and was stunned.

The pink shield of the force field was clearly visible over Canterlot.

11:48 a.m.

Lightbringer had been a weak pony since childhood. He always came last in races with his peers, and he gave up playing hoofball with them after one day when he was unwisely put on the goal.

The colt realized he could never be an athlete. But his wounded ego needed a way out.

After all, Lightbringer was a unicorn.

So in his spare time, he spent hours in Ponyville’s library, studying the various spells he could find in the books. This was before Princess Twilight arrived, so nopony was able – or willing – to help Lightbringer in any way.

But even then, the colt suffered a setback.

Any attempt to channel energy into his horn in an unusual way gave him a headache, and the tip of his magical outgrowth produced nothing but white sparks. Only telekinesis worked without problems, and Lightbringer soon became a pro at it.

He could magically juggle two dozen heavy steel bolts or lift any full-grown stallion into the air. Performing for the citizens of Ponyville brought him some money and a bit of fame, but it was clearly not what the unicorn wanted.

Magic still beckoned to him, that uncharted world of twisted energy tangles. So one day, after collecting all his earnings and adding a little from his parents’ purse, Lightbringer traveled to Canterlot to enroll in the School for Gifted Unicorns. He was fourteen years old by then, and the colt realized that time was running out.

But even that was a bummer. They wouldn't even let him in and told him to go back to his hometown.

Lightbringer couldn’t go back to Ponyville. He didn’t know how to face his family, and he didn’t want to be ridiculed for his failure.

So he did things a little differently. He left Canterlot, but not to Ponyville.

He went to Manehattan.

The money ran out quickly, but with his telekinesis it was no big deal. He could become a loader, of course, but after a few days of work, when they dumped all the work on him for a measly couple of bits, Lightbringer was disappointed in that profession.

And decided to try a new one.

After all, in addition to the power of telekinesis, the unicorn was also working on its precision and coordination. The perfect combination of qualities to, for example… open locks.

In a matter of months, Lightbringer had become the most notorious burglar in the history of the metropolis. Finding an empty apartment and quietly ransacking it was like pounding the pavement with a hoof. But the young stallion was afraid to mess with banks – and not without reason. He’d ventured into one of their vaults once and found a powerful magical defense, so he wasn’t taking any chances.

But the unicorn was not satisfied with a life of crime. Unable to find a place in society, he moved around at random, trying out every opportunity that came his way – but focusing more and more on what he was best at.

One day, of course, he was caught.

A squad of royal guards, complete with pegasi and unicorns, had been summoned from Canterlot. And unlike Lightbringer, they were good with spells.

To the unicorn’s credit, he successfully resisted the hunt for a while. He even distinguished himself by throwing an entire boxcar, raised above the tracks, at his pursuers as he ran.

Eventually he was caught – and a blocking ring was placed on his horn, depriving Lightbringer of his only superpower.

His sentence was harsh: multiple burglaries, plus the murder of officers in the line of duty, added up to twenty years on Riders Island.

In solitary, his blocker was never removed for a second. His front legs were permanently shackled over his orange robe, preventing him from reaching the horn. Having to use hoofkinesis to wash or eat made Lightbringer feel like a lame earth pony.

Everything he’d striven for had fallen apart and turned against him. There was no point in living like this. But as luck would have it, even the food was served with disposable plastic utensils, so the stallion couldn’t hurt himself.

All that changed when the Lunar Revolution came.

By the Horsecoacher’s decree, about half of the prisoners were released – mostly those who had been in prison for ponitical offenses. The rest were given a chance to go free in exchange for military service.

And Lightbringer jumped at the chance.

The fact that the army was advancing on his hometown of Ponyville and Canterlot was of little concern to the stallion. In an effort to forget, to escape the memories that plagued him, he simply did as he was told and tried to be useful to his platoon.

In a way, though, it was still revenge for having been ignored and then betrayed. Now he had betrayed them in return. One for one. All fair and square.

But after the shameful defeat at Canterlot, the army was meaningless to the stallion. What was the point of trying if Equestria was winning anyway?

These thoughts had to be concealed, lest he fall prey to the watchful Batpony commissars. The commander noticed the soldier’s condition, though, and after the troop rotation, sent him on leave to Manehattan.

Entering the frozen, empty hotel room, Lightbringer lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. There was no point in going on. He just wanted to end it all, as if nothing had ever happened.

But the unicorn’s nature demanded action – at least something to keep himself from going mad from idleness.

So Lightbringer began to do the same old thing.

This time he was caught quickly – after the second apartment had been robbed. According to the law of wartime, taking into account the unicorn’s past merits, this was a firing squad – but even here, one could say, fate came to the stallion’s aid.

He was taken from his cell and brought to headquarters, where he was asked if he wanted to participate in a mission.

Lightbringer didn’t care anymore, so he agreed without hesitation.

And after being told all the details, he didn’t change his mind.

It would finally be a chance to end everything. And go to a better world as a hero.

…The train rolled westward at breakneck speed. The wheels rattled evenly, and jets of dark smoke billowed from the smokestack. Lightbringer was in the driver’s cabin, and his only duty was to toss more and more coal into the furnace. His telekinesis allowed him to hoofle the heavy shovel with little effort.

Three boxcars were attached to the locomotive. The first and last were filled with explosives, but Lightbringer was never told what was in the middle one. All he knew was that the cargo was to be kept safe until the moment of arrival… and then everything would be as planned. The unicorn had a rough idea of what he was getting into, so it was no surprise to him.

Soon everything would be fine again. At least for him. What would happen to tens of thousands of other ponies didn’t matter. They deserved their way. Didn’t they?

Canterlot Peak loomed in the distance, the millennia-old city clinging to its slope. The bridge over the river hadn’t been rebuilt by the Equestrians – quite the opposite. The tunnel in the rock approaching from the east had been destroyed, and from the west the tracks had been covered with stone rubble, so the train could not pass over it.

What the ponies hadn’t anticipated was that Lightbringer didn’t even need it.

A roadblock appeared ahead, the first and last before the tunnel. The passage was blocked by a powerful barrier, and several dozen meters of tracks behind it were destroyed. Soldiers stood around it – pointing guns and shouting madly at the approaching train.

Lightbringer magically closed the firebox door and concentrated. His horn glowed greenish, and the same glow instantly enveloped the entire train.

The stallion gritted his teeth.

Not enough. More!

Around the greenish field, a new yellow one flashed. But fifty tons of steel, steam, explosives, and who knows what else continued to rush down the tracks as if nothing had happened.

More! More power! Mo-o-o-ore…!

The muscles in the stallion’s neck bulged. Sweat was dripping down his forehead. With his hooves on the floor, Lightbringer looked like he’d done a thousand push-ups at once. But even that didn’t compare to what he was about to perform.

His horn was enveloped in a third layer of radiance – white. The whole train seemed to glow from within, announcing the coming of something from heaven to earth.

But it was too early to act. He had to wait for the distance to shorten.

Bullets clattered against the reinforced casing of the steam boiler. That was the unicorn’s cue to get ready.

The locomotive slammed into the fence… and, judging by the crackling wood, shattered it into splinters.

It’s time!

Lightbringer roared with exertion and threw his entire body upward, as if lifting a giant invisible barbell.

And the train went upward with him.

The heavy machine, with its three attached boxcars, lifted a few inches above the wrecked tracks and continued forward at the same speed. Lightbringer waited a second or two, then carefully lowered the train back down.

The wheels rattled against the rails. But the train did not fall off the tracks – even the rear boxcar fell onto the solid rails – but raced on, toward the blocked tunnel.

Lightbringer stood and looked out the window. Ahead was a cliff, as if it had settled in the middle. Where it had collapsed was exactly where the railroad led.

The stallion’s horn flashed again. The magical field enveloped the stone debris – and then began to push it forward, at the same time forming a kind of bubble over the tracks to keep the upper layers from collapsing into the vacant space.

The train flew into the tunnel Lightbringer was digging anew with his telekinesis. The rocks shifted forward with a rumbling sound and crumbled back behind the edge of the magical dome.

In the blackness a gap appeared. With a roar, Lightbringer made another effort to push the mass of rock outward, and the bright sun streamed into the void. With a loud splash, the debris fell into the river.

The train was once again engulfed in three layers of glow. This time, the unicorn had to carry all fifty tons at least a quarter of a mile – that was the width of the river plus the length of the rock-strewn section.

The stallion’s blood vessels burst in his eyes from the strain. He squeezed his eyes shut as he continued to blindly push the multi-ton machine. Soon it will all be over… soon… all… he repeated to himself like a mantra, ready to collapse exhausted on the cabin floor at any moment.

There was thunder. It was Canterlot’s artillery, finally joining the city’s defense.

Lightbringer barely curled his lips into a smile. They won’t make it in time.

After counting down fifteen seconds to himself, the unicorn shut off his telekinesis and sprawled on the floor, completely exhausted from the spell. Even if the train had gone off the tracks, he’d gotten close enough that Equestria’s capital would be hit by the inevitable explosion.

With a loud clang, the train landed on the tracks and rolled on.

If he could make it to the station, Lightbringer would have to detonate the explosives himself. To do this, a special lever was installed in the cabin that triggered the detonators in all the boxcars at once. Including the one in the middle, where the unknown thing lay.

The unicorn stood up on his bending legs and, with his hooves resting on the walls, looked out of the window…

There was a sharp bang, and the world turned into a whirlwind of flames and flying debris of ties and rails.

The locomotive tilted and began to tumble to the left, toward the edge of the cliff. Dragging with it the boxcars without which the attack on the city was meaningless. As was Lightbringer’s entire life.

Rolling around the cabin, the unicorn made another titanic effort. For a few moments, the train flickered again with a triple field of telekinesis. But now it was floating horizontally over the rails.

The glow disappeared – and the train fell onto the tracks with a rumble. The boxcars scraped against the tracks, slowly losing their momentum.

A minute later, the train came to a stop.

Lightbringer, breathing heavily, lay powerless on the side wall that had become the new floor, in the ruined cabin. Coal was scattered everywhere, and the unicorn’s body and clothes were stained black. Blood dripped from the stallion’s forehead – from a cut from a shovel that had bounced off it during the fall.

It was quiet. Only the steam boiler, its power no longer turning the steel wheels, puffed indignantly.

Lightbringer smiled faintly and reached a hoof toward the lever.

The point was.

And then he pushed it down.

The explosion shattered an entire block, and the shockwave blew out windows half a mile away.

And immediately afterward, a thick cloud of glowing pink gas billowed in all directions.

11:57 a.m.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! HOW… DID SHE DARE… ATTACK… MY CITY…?”

Celestia stood on the castle’s observation deck and stared at the pink cloud swirling inside the shield of almost the same color, her eyes full of pain and anger. Every now and then, the alicorn sent more and more magical impulses into the shield: the pressure of the gas was simply enormous and threatened, if not to burst the force bubble from the inside, then at least to push the rock from underneath. Still, the royal mare had to expand the magical hemisphere a bit at a time to relieve the pressure.

She couldn’t let the poison break through.

“You… were my sister, Luna…” the alicorn growled through white teeth, almost physically feeling the terrible agony of her own subjects.

Hundreds, thousands of ponies were trapped inside the shield that had become a gas chamber, and their suffering echoed in Celestia’s soul.

“But this time… you have gone too far!!!”

With a seething hatred in her eyes, the alicorn turned to the east, where miles away, the rampaging Mare from the Moon must have been enjoying the arranged ball of death.

“If I have to banish you to the moon again for a thousand years, so be it! And if you don’t stop, you will be exiled from this world forever!”

“Princess!” shouted the pegasus guardian as he landed on the observation deck.

The stallion was breathing heavily, as if he had flown at full speed before. Or he had been shaken to his core by something. Or both at once.

Celestia turned sharply around and tried to look more proper.

How hard it was to hold back the rage that was bursting out of her! It was as if an entire sun was pulsing inside her, ready to burst into a supernova!

“SPEAK!” she commanded in her Royal Canterlot Voice.

The guard shrank back under her gaze and squeezed out a single word, “Littlehorn…”

Celestia’s eyes widened even more. Then she threw her head back and let out a long, desperate, terrifying wail. The cry was a mixture of anger at her sister for once again becoming a creature of Tartarus; her own frustration at her inability to prevent the disasters that had befallen Equestria; and the pain of the thousands of ponies affected by the senseless, merciless war being waged as if by someone else’s will!

And then something changed.

The power boiling within the alicorn suddenly became scaldingly clear, and in a matter of moments, it swept away all barriers.

Celestia’s body glowed and rose into the air, enveloped in a sphere of dazzling white radiance. A small sun rose over Canterlot in addition to the main luminary.

The pegasus covered his eyes with his hoof. A mere mortal pony could not look at this glow.

But the magical cocoon flashed yellow, orange, brown – and with an electric crackle, it disintegrated. The guardian was knocked down by a wave of cosmic energy that spread across the world.

And out of the fireball, a completely different mare stepped onto the castle’s marble.

Her coat was the same snow-white, and the sun was also shining on her taut flank… But her mane and tail were no longer glittering green and pink but had turned into fierce flames.

Her eyes had transformed as well: from the dark brown depths, amber lights now gazed out at Canterlot. The hooves and necklace had changed their color from golden yellow to deep orange. The diadem that crowned the alicorn’s head had also changed: the edges had become more jagged, and the diamond-shaped crystal had turned from purple to blood red. The crown itself became a full-fledged helmet that went all the way down her neck.

Daybreaker lifted her upper lip, revealing fangs like those of her nighttime reflection.

“Well…” she said, stepping to the edge of the platform. “By and large, Equestria hadn’t really started anything yet.”

The mare raised her head, an unquenchable inner flame glinting in her eyes.

“The time has come…”

The swirling gas in the magical bubble began to settle. Much of it was absorbed into the supporting structures of the survived and the hulks of the destroyed buildings.

It struck twelve in the afternoon. The middle of the day when the sun stopped.

“…for the complete…”

Ponies ran across the city. Guards and military to the site of the explosion, ordinary citizens away or wherever they could see.

They were in panic. And there was only one pony to blame.

“…delunification of Equestria!!!”