Pony Tankers

Turnip awoke to find daylight filtering into the turret through the open commander’s hatch. She was lying on her side on the cold metal of the turret floor underneath the gun. At some point in the night, somepony must have covered her up, because an army blanket was tickling her chin.

She kicked the blanket off and sat up right into the bottom of the gun.

Agony shot through her head, and she curled up in a ball and moaned in pain until the feeling subsided from head-splitting to merely heavy throbbing. She had hit almost exactly where that massive bruise on her head was.

“Oww…”

Holding her head with one hoof, she climbed up to stand through the commander’s hatch and looked around. The camp looked different by daylight; more… muted. There wasn’t much movement going on, and everything had an appearance of dull drabbery. The same ponies were in more or less the same places as before.

“Morning, sunshine,” came Minty’s voice from close at hoof.

Turnip turned, still holding her head. Minty was standing on the side of the tank next to her, smoking a cheap cigarette. Seeing Turnip looking, the mare looked out at the encampment and blew out a cloud of smoke.

“Why’d nopony wake me up?” Turnip asked, annoyed.

“You looked like you needed the sleep,” Minty answered. “Besides, there’s nothing to do until the commanders finish their deliberations.” She nodded at the command tent.

Turnip asked the question that was really bothering her, the one she had been too tired to want to hear the answer for the previous evening. “Why’re y’all here, in the woods, ‘stead of at headquarters?”

“Mm.” Minty sucked down the last of her cigarette, then threw the butt away. “That’s a bit of a long story, but we’ve got time. You want to hear it?”

Turnip spat to one side. “Sure thing.”

Minty told her. Apparently, the commander had got them on an infantry support gig on the front; they’d gotten attacked en route by Crystal Empire soldiers, which sounded about right, considering the events of yesterday; and they’d stumbled into a group of infantry, isolated in a pocket, and helped them break through ultimately to where they were today. Turnip hadn’t noticed it last night, but with it pointed out, she now saw that the coaxial gun that had been destroyed on that fateful first mission under Summer’s command had been replaced by a regular Equestrian infantry rifle. That was mighty odd, but needs must, she supposed.

“…We got here yesterday, and the commanders felt we ought to stop and see what the situation was at HQ before we just rushed in there,” Minty finished.

“Encircled and cut off, eh?” Turnip mused. “Well, I’d say that’d be where my story comes in. I was defending HQ, I got knocked out, I woke up, I ran, and now here I am. That’s about all there is to it.”

Minty nodded. Nothing more needed to be said.

“So, where’s the rest of the crew?” Turnip asked, after a spell.

“They’re around,” Minty said. “Nothing to do, right? Cashmere’s over there…” she pointed out the pink mare sitting among one of the infantry squad’s circles. Turnip narrowed her eyes. “…Thrash, may Luna rot his hide, is over there…”

Thrash seemed to be arguing with a cook. Minty’s hoof slid off him and pointed to the trucks. “Supercharger’s over there. She knows I’ve got my eye on her. Wave hello, Turnip.”

Turnip looked at Minty questioningly and kept her hooves where they were. From the sound of things, there was a heap of things Minty had left out of her little yarn.

Supercharger caught sight of them anyway when she happened to look up from the engine she was working on, and while she scowled at Minty, she lit up when she saw Turnip.

“Here she comes,” Minty said flatly. Something had definitely happened since she landed in the hospital.

Before Supercharger had the chance to excuse herself from her work, though, Thrash came sauntering over, a ration-kit tin balanced on one hoof, and another on his head. In daylight, Turnip could tell that he was quite a handsome stallion, black with a contrasting white mane shot through with red, and a jawline that mares back home swooned over. She might even like him, if she didn’t know he was currently occupying the only place keeping her out of the blasted mudsloggers. He had the look of a mudslogger around him, too; she wondered where they had found him.

“Hey, cutie,” he announced, once he’s reached their tank. Turnip saw Supercharger frown at them, although there was no way the pony could hear from way over there. “I brought you breakfast.” He offered up the tin to Minty with an upraised hoof, miming a fancy waiter.

Minty seemed to Turnip like she was caught in a difficult position, looking back and forth between Thrash before her and Supercharger far away. After a second’s hesitation, though, she accepted the offered tin from the stallion. “You bring me any cigarettes with that? I’m almost out.”

Thrash shrugged. “Everypony’s almost out, cutie. I tried, I really did.” Then he turned slightly to look up at Turnip. His face broke out into a grin. “So you’re the famous Turnip! Nice braid, it really suits you. Sorry about the job – this mare here,” and he indicated Minty with a sweeping gesture, “Came to give me the loader’s spot, and swear on my left back hoof, I thought the pony in question was dead.”

Turnip squinted at Minty. So it was her fault…

“Well, you look a lot better in the sunshine,” Thrash continued, “Why don’cha come on down here? I might have brought breakfast for another lovely young mare, too!”

Minty tried to give Turnip an imperceptible head-shake ‘no’, but Turnip ignored her. She was awfully hungry, and so what if this stallion was acting strange? She wouldn’t say no to an easy breakfast.

She climbed down and grabbed the tin from off his head and dug in. Watered-down oat gruel again. With what she knew now, it was probably just what was left.

“Thanks,” Turnip mumbled, around a mouthful.

“Don’t even mention it,” Thrash said, casually reaching out to lift her braid with a hoof. Turnip tossed her head to flip her braid to the other side, out of his touch.

“Turnip! It’s so nice to see you again!”

Supercharger had made her way over. If her cheerful voice was any more strained, it might snap. Turnip gave her a skeptical look over the tin. She’d known these ponies for about three days; she really didn’t see what the fuss was.

“Minty,” the pony continued coolly, acknowledging the mare’s presence. “Thrash, honey, did you get any for me? I’ve been working since daybreak.”

“That was barely forty minutes ago, Supercharger,” Minty said sourly.

“Aww, sugar, I’m sorry, but the cook only gave me enough for two, myself and a plus-one,” said Thrash, smoothly talking over Minty. “And I already gave our mutual friend Turnip half of it.” He nodded at Turnip.

‘Sugar’? ‘Honey’? ‘Cutie’? What the hay had Turnip walked in to? Whatever was going on with these three, she wanted no part in it. In fact, she didn’t even want to know about it. She put back her ears and pretended to be absorbed in her food.

“And the other half to Minty,” Supercharger pointed out, pointedly looking at the tin in Minty’s hoof. “Thrash, baby, we can’t all sit on our hooves doing nothing.” She slung her hoof over the stallion’s neck in a very possessive manner. “I’ve been hard at work making sure the trucks will run when we need them, which is more than miss guard-the-tank can say…”

“Well,” Thrash began, but Minty held up a hoof and sternly interrupted him.

“Hey, ladies. Sergeant’s coming.”

Well, that stopped it. Supercharger gave Thrash a good-natured noogie, like the whole leg-over-the-neck thing was just some casual joshing, and stood away and to one side, suddenly having the grace to look embarrassed. Thrash also stood away from the others a little, and Minty took another sip of gruel. Turnip followed the green mare’s lead.

Sergeant Meadows picked her way over slowly. In the daylight, she looked much altered from when Turnip had first seen her a week ago – deep bags under her eyes, a certain dinginess of coat, a lack of her original youthful energy in her posture. Her haunch was bandaged, probably from the same thing that had Turnip as wrapped-up as she was. Her black officer’s cap was rammed tightly on her head, shading her eyes closely.

“Mission for us, Sergeant?” Minty prompted, when Summer had drawn near enough.

Turnip took another sip.

“Not as such, Corporal,” Summer sighed. “My orders remain the same. Standby.”

Minty saluted, and the other two followed her lead. Turnip stayed where she was, since she was apparently not a part of the crew anymore.

“But there was one thing to see to,” Summer continued, turning to face Turnip directly. “Since Enlisted Sprout has fortuitously returned to us, should we allow her to return to duty in Enlisted Metal’s horseshoes?”

Minty blinked. “Are you asking me, ma’am?”

Summer looked like she wanted nothing more than to curl up and pass out. “Asking you, asking all of you,” she said wearily, waving a hoof at the group. “How about it? Shall we take this pony back, or shan’t we?”

Turnip stood silently. A unicorn officer asking her ponies what they thought? Now this was a first. She didn’t want to be one to sing her own praises, but if it let her be in the tank in the days to come instead of on the ground…

“Oh, yes, ma’am, absolutely,” Minty answered for her, while Turnip was still thinking. “She’s the fastest loader I’ve ever worked with, and Celestia knows I’ve wanted shells to be loaded exactly when I needed them these last few days.” She finished this with a glare at Thrash, who merely shrugged.

“But ma’am, we’ve had to rely on the coaxial a lot lately,” Supercharger said, jumping to Thrash’s defense. “Thrash is the best shot in the crew, and he does alright when we need to use the main gun for some reason. It’s not like we’ve been running into any enemy tanks, anyway.”

“Like you would know about his performance,” Minty snapped. “You’re not the one who has to wait for him to push a shell in while an enemy gun stares you in the face!”

“Oh, I know a lot about his performance. My question is, how much do you know?”

“I know enough to know how inadequate he is!”

“Ah, so you admit-”

“Ladies, ladies!” Thrash interrupted, “Why can’t we both be loaders? She’s small enough she can fit between my legs! Oh.” The stallion’s ears dropped as he realized what he’d said.

“I’m sure you’d enjoy that very much,” Minty sneered. “Stay out of this.”

“Oh, he would?” Supercharger said, and she gave Turnip a weighing-up, appraising look.

“Supercharger, stop it,” Minty said, giving the pony a cuff around the ear. “Remember what you promised.”

“I promised I’d be chill until Turnip got back from the hospital, remember, and look, here she is!” Supercharger pointed at her. “Now the promise is off. I don’t have to pretend like he’s not-”

“Silence!” Summer said forcefully, without raising her voice. The belligerents obeyed instantly. Turnip tipped back the last of her gruel.

Summer looked at each of them in turn, glaring like they were all equally complicit in things, even Turnip. She continued, “I didn’t argue all night only to hear more of it. This will be decided later.” She walked by them and started slowly climbing up the front of the tank. Just before vanishing under the commander’s hatch, she said, “Wake me in time for evening supper.” And then the hatch was closed, and Summer was gone.

Nopony spoke for a minute.

“Well, Turnip, looks like another day of waiting,” Minty said, laying a hoof over Turnip’s back.

“So, Thrash, looks like we got the day off,” Supercharger said, batting her eyes at the stallion. “Whatever should we do?”

“Absolutely not,” Minty broke in, before Thrash could reply one way or the other. “If you can remember what you promised, then you definitely remember what I promised.”

“Sorry, Sugar,” Thrash said, the cheerful undertone to his voice giving the lie. “Looks like my hooves are tied on this one.”

“Well,” Supercharger said, trying to sound unbothered, “I’ll just get back to those trucks, then. What about you?”

Thrash grinned. “I’ll be around. You know, just in case Minty needs me.”

Minty snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Okay then.” Supercharger narrowed her eyes at Minty. Turnip could have groaned. “Turnip, want to help me? I could use somepony to hold tools.”

Dear Celestia, was it going to be like this all day? Or just when they were near each other? She looked around for ways to escape the situation, and got an idea.

“Hey, Thrash,” she said, ignoring Supercharger’s offer and shaking off Minty’s hoof.

“Yeah?”

“Where’d ya get this here mess tin?”

“I borrowed it from the cooks. You want me to-”

“Reckon I’d better take it back, then,” Turnip cut him off. Holding the rim of the tin in her teeth, she backed away from the others, then turned and walked away.

Well, sitting around waiting for the commanders to order something wasn’t her idea of fun, but then, it was the army, and sometimes this kind of thing happened to a pony. Sitting around between two mares and a stallion who were all weirdly nice to her, for their own reasons, and against each other, also for their own reasons, was definitely not her idea of fun. She got to thinking about other ways to spend the day.

She found the cook she’d seen Thrash with and gave him the tin. Maybe she should go find Shortcake and see if she was in the same situation; she was nice enough, and more importantly, had no connection with whatever was going on in the tank.

This was only a company, so surely it shouldn’t be too hard to find her.

Turnip got the cook to point her towards the second platoon, then she asked around until somepony told her that Shortcake had left about fifteen minutes ago with a recon patrol.

Drat, she had just missed her. She cast a glance back to the tank, where it sat in the shadows. Minty was pacing around in circles next to the tank. Thrash was nowhere to be seen near the tank, but Turnip found him across the camp talking with another mare. Supercharger had moved on to work on a new truck. Well, it was just a recon patrol, right? They had no obligation to fight the enemy if they found them, yesterday’s unusual circumstances notwithstanding. Turnip made her decision and made for the pile of enemy weapons.

There was a pony on guard, but she told him she’d lost her rifle, which was the honest truth, and he let her fill her webbing with enemy rifle clips, and even gave her a rifle. She turned it down and insisted on something shorter.

She walked away loaded down with ammo, with a fresh-captured enemy carbine slung over her back, and two enemy grenades clipped to her chest. One thing she could say about Crystal Empire webbing; it might have originally been worn by a pony much bigger than her, but she was able to adjust it so that it fit her, mostly. It was still a bit loose, but the straps had never been made with ponies as small as her in mind.

A sentry stopped her before she could leave the camp.

“No further, little soldier girl,” he admonished her. “No leaving camp. You know the Major’s orders.”

“Oh, sorry, I’m just tryin’ to catch back up with Corporal Dusty – I got held up a bit. Had to get m’self equipped.” She brandished her carbine, as if to present proof. It was true enough, from a certain point of view.

“You’re with Corporal Dusty?” the sentry said. “Alright then – go on ahead. Weren’t you with him on yesterday’s patrol too? The small mare?”

“Sure was,” she answered, already moving past him. “Thanks.”

As she walked away, she wondered how the sentry knew, since he was definitely not the one she had seen last night, and anyway there were a few dozen sentries posted at any given time. Perhaps they talked after their watches were through.

She headed through the woods at a brisk trot in the direction she had been told the party had left in, hoping to catch them up.