Chapters Week 4, Day 3, 3rd Shift Week 4, Day 5, 1st Shift Week 3, Day 6, 4th Shift Week 4, Day 6, 1st Shift Week 4, Day 7, 3rd Shift There Could Be Zebras About
“Stop lolly-gagging Private, this is no time for rest!”
“Ah, come on Sarge, you know I’m from Trottingham, we’re not made for this heat.”
“Lying down isn’t going to get this palisade finished by nightfall Private. I want you hydrated and on your hooves in 60 seconds, no ifs, no buts!”
“Ugh, all right, all right.”
“How come it’s still so bloody hot Sarge? I thought the desert was cold at night?”
“It is-“
“Pull the other one, I’m sweating like a cart horse here.”
“Don’t interrupt! It is later, just all the rock in these canyons absorbs the heat during the day until they’re like toasty hot water bottles by sunset. All that sun and heat gets trapped down here with us.”
“Wish the Captain knew that when we picked the spot. Buck digging in this heat.”
“We’re only digging two sides, idiot, the canyon does the rest. Use your brain a bit, Private!”
“Why do you have to be so sensible every time, Sarge?”
“I took night courses.”
“Really Sarge? They teach that?”
“No, manure-brains, I took night courses in shut the buck up and get back to digging.”
“Ugh. Fine.”
There Could Be Zebras About
“Tell you what Sarge, not many sunrises better than this. Not sure I’ve seen anything more beautiful.”
“Not even a special somepony?”
“That’s… well… different, just look at the colours I mean. It really brings out the red in the rocks.”
“Never took you for an artist, Private.”
“I just like a good landscape, Sarge.”
“So do I when I’ve not been awake all night.”
“A less charitable pony might think ya gone soft Sarge.”
“You’re one to talk, ogling the pretty colours. Maybe I ought to requisition some watercolours from the Captain.”
“Hey, it’s still a good view alright? Makes climbing all the way up here for watch in the dark like a blind nag worth it.”
“Fair enough, it’s not half bad.“
“Hey Sarge, over here!”
“What?”
“There's a rock-fall, on that rubble-y face ‘bout 10 o’clock from us.”
“Wait, where?”
“Where I'm pointing, Sarge. See the loose rock slope?”
“Which- yeah yeah I see it.”
“Hope they checked these cliffs for ‘em, would be a mighty painful way to wake up in-”
“Take the binocs,”
“What, does it-”
“You see them? Abseiling down the face?”
“Tarterus Sarge, I-”
“You see them?!”
“Zebras, plain as day, Sarge. A dozen at least.”
“Don't move a bucking muscle Private, give me that map and my canteen. I'm alerting the Captain.”
There Could Be Zebras About
“Hey, hold the fort for a minute, I’m gonna take a slash.”
“Careful Sarge, there could be zebras about.”
“Still alive Sarge?”
“Obviously, what’s gonna attack us out there?”
“I dunno, zebras?”
“What in Tartarus is your thing about zebras? There’s no zebras for 100 miles.”
“Yeah, but maybe they crossed the border?”
“There’s tensions sure, but we’re not actually at war, dumbass.”
“Can’t be too careful though.”
“Yes, we’re Guards in Her Majesty’s service, I know we can’t get too careful, but I’m not about to go around looking for zebras in every shadow, especially when we’re not even at war with them.”
“Well, sure, I’m not saying that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I dunno, just there could be zebras about.”
“Buck off!”
“There could!”
“Zebras about what?”
“What?”
“Zebras about what?”
“About, I dunno?”
“Zebras about ten hooves high? Zebras about to eat their dinner? Zebras about to jump out at me from behind that tree over there?”
“Zebras can’t jump Sarge.”
“Buck off zebras can’t jump. Of course they can bloody jump.”
“My grampa told me they couldn’t jump, he fought against them in ‘78.”
“Zebras CAN jump.”
“Not like ponies.”
“Yes like ponies.”
“Not really Sarge.”
“Yes really Private.”
“My grampy wasn’t pulling my leg Sarge, I’m pretty sure he was serious.”
“And how do you know that eh? I thought you said your grampa has a talent for making party poppers last week, he doesn’t sound serious.”
“He does, but he was serious! About this.”
“Ok, I’m just asking how you knew he was serious when he said that zebras can’t jump.”
"…"
“Apparently his squad stumbled upon a few zebras in a courtyard in Zth… Zrb… Ztch…”
“Zrtchndmthd?”
“Yeah there. I can never pronounce them. The Zebras couldn’t jump the courtyard walls, even though grampy was sure he could have done.”
“Sure, but maybe they didn’t want to jump the courtyard walls.”
“They really did Sarge.”
“Did they?”
“Yeah…”
“C'mon, spill the beans then.”
“It's… uh… not great, Sarge.”
“I'm a big colt now Private, I think I can handle a few old war stories.”
“Well, grampy was let off on account of how he lost his hoof in the scuffle, proved his assailant was armed, but the rest were court-martialed.”
“What? Why?”
“They only found one dagger Sarge, it was just civvies. They were all frightened and trying to escape, but cos they couldn’t jump the wall everyone stampeded. Apparently it was chaos. Grampy didn’t like to talk about it.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Why though?”
“Why what Sarge?”
“Why can’t Zebras jump?”
“Couldn’t rightly say Sarge.”
“I thought they were just like earth ponies who got confused in a paint factory. Earth ponies jump pretty well.”
“They’re not completely different, but gramps did say they were unnatural quick, like.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, up close, hoof to hoof, grampy said they were proper scary.”
“Still, no match for the Royal Guard, eh?”
“If you say so Sarge.”
“I do say so. They don’t have magic, wings, or our good old honest muscle-power do they, let alone proper armour, they’d be mad to tangle with us.”
“Well yeah, ‘course they don’t have any of that.”
“Exactly. Now eyes front soldier, no point getting worked up about it. Leave the thinking to the bigwigs. We just keep watch.”
There Could Be Zebras About
“I'm just gonna take a leak Sarge, before sun-up.”
“And I want to hear you do it right behind me Private, we're not getting separated and picked off.”
“Yeah, yeah, ‘course. Just want to get it out before we're under the camo nets for the morning.”
“Anything Sarge?”
“Nope.”
“Lemme look through them.”
“Here.”
“What do you reckon?”
“Same as yesterday Sarge, just minus a few rock-climbing zebs.”
“I doubt that very much, keep looking. Seems like you've got better eyes than me, Mr Artist.”
“Shuddup.”
“Still nothing?”
“Not a soul, Sarge. Dead as a doornail out there. Unless we're at war with cacti now.”
“Har har, Private, you wish. You'll get your rematch with that one last week.”
“Shut up, Buckler pushed me OK?”
“So you say. If he pushed you how come he helped take the spines out.”
“Bog off.”
“I'm sure between us we can take ‘em, Private, it's not like they run fast, you'd have to be an idiot to-”
AAAAAIIEEEE!
“Did you hear that Sarge?”
“Of course I bloody- there it is again!”
“Sarge?”
“Buck. Buck, buck buck. Get out there!”
“Wait, Sarge-”
“We're under attack, Private! Get out there colt!”
“No Sarge, wait, what-”
“That's an order, Private!”
“No!”
“This is insubor-”
“Hear me our Sarge! It could be a trap!”
“Ten seconds, Private, or-”
“If they spotted us we need to be careful Sarge, or we'll get cut off.”
“Agreed, but we need to act, Private! Get out there and tell me what you see! I'm right behind you.”
“Ok, ok, I'm going…”
“...no zebras right here Sarge. The plateau seems clear.”
“Thank Celestia. Right then Private, quick march back to camp. Time to prove our worth.”
“Doesn't sound good, Sarge.”
“Shut up, Private. Battle never does. No use brooding. They'll probably be finishing up the last of the zebs before we arrive.”
“If you say so. What’s the plan here then?”
“Let me go first Private, keep an eye out on the top here while I climb down the crevasse and get a sight of the route down to camp. We'll teach those zebras a lesson in no time.”
“If you say so. Let me give you a hoof.”
“Sarge, is that you?”
“Yes, keep your voice down!”
“How's it look?”
“It's…”
“They still haven't fought them all off yet?”
“It's bad Private, we'll…”
“Lemme get down, I'm right behind you Sarge. We'll take ‘em together.”
“No, we'll…”
“What is it?
“It's, it's a massacre.”
“C'mon Sarge, I'm not a total little filly, I'm ready for a scrap.”
“They’re all going to die, Private!”
“...”
“...”
“What… what are we gonna do then, Sarge?”
“Bucked if I know!”
“...”
“I don't really want to die, Sarge.”
“Neither do I Private, but we're bucked! I'd be amazed if I wasn't spotted. The valley’s flooded with em!”
“...we can't just stand here listening, Sarge, we've got to do something.”
“You're right, we've got to do something. Or try.”
“Maybe if we can get word to other battalions…”
“...Maybe Celestia's grace won't abandon us just yet. You're right, Private. We need to warn the rest of the Army.”
“What's the plan then Sarge?”
“Get me out of this bloody ravine first, that bucking sound!”
“...”
“Right Private, we hoof it back to the observation post, get the kit, wait for cover of night, then it's double time until we're back to civilization.”
“Sarge?”
“Maybe we shouldn't wait. They're, uh… distracted.”
“Celestia forgive us…”
There Could Be Zebras About
“I miss them, Sarge.”
“Don’t think about it. Just keep moving.”
“Private?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s just rest for a while here. This cactus is better than nothing.”
“C’mon Sarge, we can still make it by sundown. Those cliffs can’t be less than 5 miles.”
“I’m worried about your hoof Private, bugger the distance. My old mum always used to nag me about looking after my hooves, and Celestia forbid if I’ll let you get away with it.”
“That’s only if you don’t make it worse!”
“Ok! Ok. I’m.. ah.. sitting and resting as ordered, Sarge.”
“Good. For at least…”
“At least what?”
“We lost the chronometer, didn’t we?”
“‘Fraid so Sarge.”
“Damn.”
“It’s not like it’s gonna get us out of here any longer I guess.”
“You’re probably right. Sun’s been baking us for too damn long.”
“Don’t suppose Celestia can turn it down a bit, Sarge, just for us?”
“You go to Canterlot and ask her nicely then and see what happens.”
“I’m trying to but you told me to stop, you silly sausage.”
“Don’t joke! I’m not losing you, not after…”
“...right you are, Sarge.”
“So, until the shade from the cactus moves across and hits that pebble there, we rest.”
“We’d best be off, Sarge.”
“Buh, what, carrots!”
“You awake, Sarge? It’s cooling down now.”
“Wuh, what, you… you let me fall asleep?”
“You looked pretty tired!”
“We’ve got ground to cover!”
“Well, we won’t be cooking to death when we cover it now.”
“Chill, it’s all clear. I’ve been looking through the binoculars, not seen anything follow us down to the plain.”
“Ah, well, thank Celestia for small mercies.”
“...and, you were right. I did need a rest. The fetlock’s still sore, but I can still trot.”
“Good, and I’m still going to nag you right up until we’re seeing a doc back at the barracks.”
“Hope so, Sarge.”
“Right, let’s check the kit and get out of here. How’s the water doing?”
“My canteen’s still pretty full, but I took the last drops out of yours.”
“Could be worse I suppose. Hopefully there’s a stream somewhere in those cliffs. Still looking clear out there?”
“Probably. Seemed clear a few minutes ago.”
“Give it another look, and I’ll pop the binocs in the pack.”
“...there’s some heat-haze Sarge, but nothing else moving.”
“It’s cooling down Private, heat haze?”
“Looks like it.”
“Hmm. Looks like it. Let’s not mess about any longer.”
“What do you reckon Sarge, push on through the night?”
“What do you think my old mum would say about your hoof?”
“Fair enough, not spotted a good campsite though.”
“True, maybe a little further, into the rocky outcrops. Maybe some plants too, anything for moisture. Good for a little longer, Private?”
“I can manage.”
“Right, quick breather here. Let’s have a look through the binocs one last time, before it gets too dark.”
“Here.”
“Something’s been bugging me, let’s see-”
“There’s-”
“Buck! They’re onto us!”
“What?”
“Stow those and pop them in my pack, right now! We are hoofing it!”
“Right, buck, uh, there.”
“Good. Go!”
“What… how?”
“The bloody stripes Private! Don’t slow down!
“Uh, I know they’re camo Sarge, but I checked!”
“Yep and on the flat, in the heat, it all blends in like you wouldn’t believe!”
“How, uh, how close?”
“Dunno, the desert all blends into one. Buck, maybe a few hours behind us?”
“I, uh, sorry, Sarge. I’m right behind you.”
“No point in looking back now, Private. We’re getting to those cliffs, and we’re gonna lose them.”
“Sarge, check out this cave!”
“Private?”
“There's something reflecting the moonlight in it, looks like water!”
“By Celestia, finally good luck. Let's have a look.”
“It's, uh, kinda muddy.”
“Look Private, I hate it when they call us mud-eaters but we're both Earth Ponies, we can handle it. We need the water.”
“What if they find the muddy tracks? The zebs seem pretty clued in.”
“Well, we need the water. Not much use being stealthy if you're a corpse.”
“Guess you're right about that one Sarge. Here's the canteen.”
“Might as well drink some now too. Come on, let's get to it.”
…
“Bleurgh, damn, Sarge, I'm not gonna try to repeat that one.”
“Ugh! Buck, that’s awful. Should make those smarmy unicorns back in HQ taste it and see how funny it gets then.”
“And the canteens?”
“I guess we're repeating it a few times until we get back.”
“Yuck. Want me to fill the other one?”
“I think we need some pure water as a back-up to wash that filth down.”
“What now Sarge? My, er, leg isn't doing so well after that charge into the foothills.”
“Hmm. You said it yourself, we're gonna leave muddy tracks, not sure if we can get it all off enough to fool a zebra. If we can't hide from them and can't run from them, what else can we do?”
“There is one thing Sarge.”
“Doesn't sound very good from the way you're saying it.”
“Well, I'm the slow one. Maybe if you went on ahead, you might be able to outrun-”
“Not a chance, Private. If it comes to that, I'm standing and fighting by your side.”
“We didn't before though, for the rest.”
“Look, I… it's not good. Maybe we should have died like heroes, like the rest. But we didn't. Maybe it was the right call, but it still feels shameful.”
“Yeah, I guess. I don't feel like a hero though Sarge. I'm scared.”
“Me too, Private.”
“...I don't wanna die.”
“We'll think of something, Private. Trust me.”
“Like what? They're gonna catch up with us tonight. We can run, we can't fight, we can't hide anywhere. It's hopeless. We're hopeless.”
“OK, maybe some options are out. There must be something.”
“We're up to our knees in mud, sleep-deprived, dehydrated, what can we do?”
“Think Private! We're not dead yet! How can we turn it to our advantage?”
“What, being a half-dead muddy mess? Come off it, we're bucked.”
“OK, the mud, how do we avoid getting tracked?”
“If there's a river we could trot through it, clear the trail, but there's not, just this muddy pit.’
“Bingo! That's it! The one thing they won't expect.”
“Yeah? Better than a zebra tracker?”
“They can track us wherever we go if we leave here covered in mud, but what if we don't actually leave?”
“Then they see us sitting here like a pair of idiots?”
“No, no, we make it look like we leave, muddy hoofprints going in and out, all messed up. Rub some mud off on the plants, leave a muddy rag. Make ‘em think we left while we just sit buried in the mud in this cave. Surely no zebra's mad enough to jump in it like us.”
“Buck Sarge, you're a genius or a mad pony. Dunno which.”
“Are you in?”
“Doubt there's anything else we can do.”
“I hear hooves, Sarge. Galloping.”
“Still as stone, Private, you hear me. We can still do this.”
“If… we can't,”
“What?”
“Thanks, Sarge.”
“Private, it's been an honour.”
