Pony Tankers: Snow and Steel

Cream Soda's hooves were still shaking as she gripped the brake levers to keep the tank on the road. Small adjustments here and there were plenty, directing the multi-ton steel beast left and right while it rumbled back toward Riverpool. Ever since Flax got the platoon back in order and pointed toward town again, Cream felt like she was living in a dream - though perhaps a nightmare would be more accurate. Even if she hadn't directly had a hoof in the fight, she saw plenty through her viewport. The machine gun chattering right next to her, not to mention the spent brass flying her way, made for a very noisy and unpleasant first experience for Cream's combat career, but that was less important. What was important was that she'd survived, somehow.

The bullets pinging off the armor right in front of her, the only thing keeping her safe from a painful death being a few centimeters of metal, were almost enough to make Cream fall apart right then and there. Still, with Flax's good shooting and even better leadership, they'd all made it through. Cream was safe and sound. So why couldn't she get her hooves to stop shaking? It wasn't the cold, especially not after the tank had warmed up to an almost sweltering temperature despite the freezing air outside. She'd been scared in the moment, but now she was safe - she knew it, but her body didn't seem to have caught up yet. Cream took a deep breath to steady herself while her heart kept thundering in her chest, then rolled her shoulders and refocused on the road ahead.

In the half hour or so since the fight ended, clouds had quickly rolled in to start a gentle snowfall. Visibility was still good even with the headlights off, and Flax was even poking her head out of the hatch on top. Emerald seemed to be busy paying attention to her radio set, and Sage was as silent as ever. Eventually, Cream couldn't take the silence. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then keyed the microphone on her headset. "Hey, girls?"

"What is it, Cream? Something wrong with the engine?"

"Er... no, ma'am. I'm... just wondering something," Cream stammered, her feeble confidence all but shattering as soon as Flax spoke.

"Spit it out. Did the Shinies get a lucky hit somewhere and damage your visor or something?" Emerald sounded dismissive, though that was hardly unusual in Cream's experience. She gripped her steering levers a little more firmly, eyes glued to the road ahead.

"Something on your mind, lass?" Sage added, her voice far more gentle than the other two. "That was your first fight, I figure. Nary a thing ye could've done better, all things considered."

"Just... just nervous," Cream finally managed, her voice tense like a coiled spring. She noticed how she sounded, even while desperately trying to calm herself. "That was my first combat. Never been shot at before, so... new experience. I'll get used to it."

"Aye, you'd better, or things are only going to get harder for you from here on out." Sage was doing her best to lean down and look at Cream while she spoke, even if her spot in the turret was a little too high up to do it. Cream didn't see her, still focused on the road.

"You did good - all of you," Flax cut in, her voice mixing with the sound of wind blowing past her microphone. "With a little more practice, we'll be workin' like a well-oiled machine."

After Flax finished speaking, silence fell back into place. Cream glanced aside and double-checked before she had to shift gears, wincing when she still managed to fumble the timing just a tad. She was getting better, she knew, but the horrible sounds she managed to draw from the poor gearbox were as embarrassing as ever. Their machine kept rumbling along, the snowfall steadily increasing in intensity as the sun crept down toward the horizon. Riverpool was still over an hour away, Cream knew, and standing between her and the town were miles of open countryside. There were a few clusters of trees here and there, but the north Equestrian climate was not conducive to the same thick, lush forests that could be found further toward the interior. To Cream, though, it was all new.

Her mind began to wander back to Manehattan, and the little suburb she'd called home before the war. It wasn't the most luxurious place, and it was far from exciting, but it was home. She knew most of the ponies on her street, and she and her little group of friends were hanging out just about every weekend. That changed when the invasion came. The first wave of change came with ponies enlisting. All of a sudden, dozens of ponies were shipping off to join the army, and a few of Cream's friends were on that first train out of town. Next came the draft. More ponies disappeared, including more of Cream's friends, and before long her street was looking more like a rundown ghost town. The elderly and the young were left behind of course, but it felt like more young adults like herself were being shipped off to boot camp by the day.

Finally, Cream had decided it would be best to enlist on her own terms. She signed up, lied about having experience with truck driving, and was promptly shuffled into the logistics corps. After a few weeks of training, Cream was plonked down behind the wheel of a supply truck and sent along as part of a convoy to bring relief to the ponies fighting on the frontline. She'd only been driving for about a month when she got sent out on a supply run to the 2nd Armored Battalion's HQ, and from there it was a whirlwind that left her where she was now. Here, seated in an uncomfortable chair in an uncomfortably hot tank in an uncomfortably cold part of the country with an uncomfortable job. Part of Cream wondered how it could've all gone so wrong for her, but another part of her knew she should be thankful. After all, she wasn't digging trenches and carrying a rifle. All she had to worry about was driving a tank and the knowledge that a failure on her part could get three other perfectly capable mares killed along with her. No pressure at all.

The more Cream thought about home, the more she started to realize a few things. For one, she'd barely kept in touch with her family. It wasn't intentional, of course, but there was rarely time for sitting down and writing letters when you were always behind the wheel. Come to think of it, Cream couldn't actually remember the last time she sent anything home - or when she got anything in return. Maybe it was just as hard for the mail to keep up with her as it was for her to find time to send any. Aside from her lack of contact with her folks back home, Cream also realized she hadn't heard a peep from any of her friends since they'd shipped off to boot camp. Maybe she'd see them again when this was all over. Maybe.

In the meantime, Cream shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts, correcting the direction of the tank before it drifted too far toward the edge of the road. The snow was coming down harder now, individual flakes zooming past Cream's viewport like stars suspended in the night sky. Speaking of the sky, it was turning a dark, stormy, greyish-blue color as the sun went down and clouds blocked the dimmer light of sunset. Instinctively, Cream took one hoof off of a brake lever and reached for her instrument panel. After hesitating for a moment, her eyes found the appropriate switch. With a click, the headlights turned on and illuminated the road ahead for a few dozen feet. The change was quickly noticed.

"Turn them lights out," Flax hissed, "are you tryin' to get us spotted?" Cream huffed, reaching over again and flipping the switch again. The lights went out, and once again Cream was back to pressing her eyes up to her viewport and squinting into the dim. This was going to be a long drive.

)()()()()()()(

By the time Second Platoon returned to Riverpool, the sun had fully set and the snow had yet to let up. Cream was struggling to see more than a few feet from the bow at this point, but she could at least make out the outline of buildings once they drew near. With darkness closing in and the wind picking up, Flax had finally decided to close up the hatch and finish out the ride with limited visibility. There hadn't been much more conversation, save for some speculation started by Emerald as to what that Crystal Empire artillery battery had been doing set up seemingly all alone, and Cream was starting to tune out the constant rumble of the engine.

Riverpool still looked like a ghost town from the outside, but once she was among the buildings Cream could ever so faintly make out the details that gave away who was inhabiting it now. Sandbags were stacked against walls, snow had been shoveled out of alleys to allow for easier travel, and the light of campfires glowed from scattered backyards being used as resting areas. Flax directed Cream back into the very same yard they'd parked in before, right behind that old green house, and as soon as they were in position Cream killed the engine with the push of a button. The hatch on top of the turret and the hatch right above Emerald swung open almost at the same time, thumping against the hull and starting to let the hot air inside the tank waft out and be blown away by the nighttime breeze. As soon as Emerald cleared her hatch, Cream scooted over and followed right behind her. Her hooves met the frozen ground with a crunch, and a shiver immediately ran up Cream's back as the thin layer of sweat in her fur began to work against her. She'd gone from uncomfortably hot to uncomfortably cold in a matter of seconds, and the dark house a few yards away suddenly looked very inviting.

"Alright, y'all, listen up," Flax ordered, still standing on the front hull of the tank in order to look down at Sage, Emerald, and Cream all at once. Cream suppressed a whine, turning around and looking up at her commander's barely visible face in the dark. "I've gotta go give my report to Apple Blossom. Morning Dew's crew had a hell of a rough time out there, so I want one of you to go 'n' check up on 'em. Another one of y'all should go check in with the infantry and see about getting some dinner for the rest of us. Whoever's left behind, go inside the house and start settin' up - try 'n' make it homely, while you're at it."

After a chorus of 'yes ma'am's, Flax dropped down and trotted off toward the town hall. Cream looked at her comrades with a raised eyebrow, waiting to hear if either of them would volunteer for something specific. As luck would have it, they would.

"I'll head over to the mess and nab something for us," Sage said, looking at Cream and Emerald in turn. "You lasses try not to get into trouble before the lieutenant gets back, aye?"

"We'll be fine, patchy," Emerald groaned, rolling her eyes. "I'll start unpacking and setting up our little abode. You can go talk to your new friends, Cream. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you after today."

"Sounds like a plan. Meet up here in an hour, I guess? I, er... dunno how long Flax will be with that report, and I'd rather not stay out all night in this cold." Cream shrugged as she spoke, then glanced aside as she adjusted her jacket from where it had bunched up on her way out of the hatch a moment ago.

Sage mirrored the shrug, already beginning to turn toward the nearest campfire. "I dinnae think it'll take that long, but ye never know. Flax probably won't complain too much if you're still out and about helping the other crews by the time she gets back - I'll bet she'll be keeping an eye out for Aura instead."

Emerald scoffed, already halfway toward the house's back door. She called over her shoulder as she stepped inside. "You two just worry about yourselves! I've got some sleeping arrangements to arrange!"

And just like that, Cream Soda was left standing alone in the yard. The tank stood silently beside her, still radiating heat, and she could hear the muffled conversations of dozens of ponies all around her little pocket of quiet. Every few moments she could hear something being moved around inside the house, and occasionally even catch a glimpse through a window of the glowing corona of magic around whatever Emerald happened to be moving via levitation. Sage's crunching hoofsteps were drowned out quickly by the wind, fading out of Cream's hearing in mere moments, and for a minute she just stood and waited. Eventually Cream willed herself to move, shaking off the light dusting of fresh snow that had accumulated on her side and back. She stepped around to the front of her machine, squinting as she tried to make out any of the finer details in the darkness.

The front hull was covered in dings and scratches from rifle bullets ineffectually splashing against it, though a few lucky shots did some superficial damage to the exposed stowage bins on the sides. Peeking inside, Cream was relieved to see that nothing had been struck aside from some heavy-duty tools. They were dented as well, but looked to still be in usable condition. The turret was similarly unaffected by the fire it received earlier today, though Cream noticed that one shot had come extremely close to hitting the coaxial machine gun directly. Instead, it had glanced off of the thin shield around the gun barrel, leaving behind a shallow gouge a few inches long and nothing more. Overall, Cream figured they were pretty lucky. She'd heard about, and seen, what a real anti-tank weapon could do to a tank. She shuddered when the phrase "can opener" rose to the surface of her mind again, coined by a tank pony who had survived an ambush and was resting at a camp she was resupplying a couple of months ago.

After another moment or two of staring at her machine, Cream decided she'd delayed her mission long enough. She turned and made for the nearest campsite she knew of, the very same one she'd visited earlier. It was a short walk, just across the street and behind a small house, and Cream was pleasantly surprised when she stepped around the corner and into the warm glow of a campfire. Four ponies were seated around it, and parked a few feet away was the Whispering Wind. Morning Dew noticed Cream first, looking up from a bowl filled with some steaming liquid, and waved her over.

"Good to see you again," she said, smiling slightly as Cream settled down onto an unoccupied crate. "Care for some soup? Rosebud made it for us to celebrate our first successful mission." Rosebud, the loader, blushed and looked away as she was mentioned.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Sage is rustling up something for us, and I hear she's got a knack for rustling."

"Just come to visit, then?" Dew asked, before lifting her bowl for another sip. Cream didn't get to respond before the radio pony, Midnight, spoke up.

"You just missed Rivets dropping by to apologize for what happened earlier. She could've at least pretended to mean it... she was still bragging about how big that boom was, crazy bitch didn't think about us being so close to it. I should've knocked her teeth out." Cream looked over and realized the mare's head was bandaged, right above her right eye, with a length of white gauze. There was a small red stain, but she didn't act as if she was terribly bothered by her injury. Given the layout of the tank, Cream knew she had to have been right behind where the front of their tank was hit.

"That's enough, Midnight. You know better than to talk about a comrade that way, especially one who happens to be a superior officer," Dew chastised, narrowing her eyes at the other mare. Midnight sighed, slumping her shoulders and turning away slightly.

"She's got a bit of a point, though," a male voice cut in, one Cream recognized as the friend she made earlier. His name was Butter Biscuit, but he had insisted on just calling him 'B.B.' for short. "A move like that could've killed one of us, or just taken out the tank entirely. We're lucky we didn't catch a bigger piece of debris than we did. Even then... I dunno how I'll be able to fix the damage it did - at least not without some major work."

Morning Dew sighed, shook her head, and set her bowl down beside herself on her crate. "I know what she did was foolish, and... well, I agree that she oughta be more sorry about it, but it is what it is. We could've died, but we didn't. You'd best get used to that happening a lot on the frontline."

A round of silent nods, and the conversation died for the moment. Cream shuffled awkwardly in her spot, unsure of what to do. She didn't feel particularly close to her own crew, but she felt even more alien to this other group of ponies who had spent more time bonding with one another. Thankfully, somepony else broke the silence before it became unbearable for her. "So... Cream, what brings ya by?"

Looking up from her hooves and back at B.B., Cream hesitated a moment before shrugging. "Dunno. Just wanted to check on you guys, make sure you're all doing alright. Maybe, er... learn a bit more about maintaining the tank? I know you've probably got your hooves full worrying about repairs now, but..."

Biscuit waved a hoof, barking a short laugh. "Bah! Nah, you don't gotta worry about that. C'mere, you can get a better look at what happened earlier."

Seeing no reason to delay, Cream hopped up onto her hooves and trotted around the campfire. Dew, Midnight, and Rosebud started up another conversation, but Cream tuned it out. Instead, she followed Biscuit's lead and took a close look at the front of Whispering Wind's hull. The left corner was badly dented, and one of the rivets near the corner had popped halfway out of its socket. If she stood at the right angle, Cream could see inside the tank - or she would've with proper lighting. As it was, she just saw a black void where the firelight didn't reach. Black soot still covered part of the front, though it was obvious that most of it had been wiped away with minimal effort. The barrel sported one white ring painted near the muzzle, and Cream squinted at it for a moment. "What's that for? We didn't kill any tanks out there."

Biscuit looked at Cream, then followed her gaze up to the barrel. "Oh! Eheh... Dew felt like we earned that one. We might start using them to mark successful missions rather than individual kills."

"Makes sense. Er... I guess. Did that hit break anything else, or did it just rough up the armor?"

"Oh, yeah, it shook us up plenty. Chunk of metal is what hit poor Midnight in the head, barely missed her eye and lodged in her eyebrow. Nasty, too..."

Midnight suddenly interrupted from across the campsite, speaking up to be clearly heard. "It wasn't that bad!"

"Fine, so it wasn't, but it looked pretty ugly in the moment," Biscuit amended, rolling his eyes. "The shock also knocked our radio dead. I'm no electrician, but I think we can get it working again with a little TLC and a spare part or two. Here's hoping somepony remembered to pack some..."

Cream was still admiring the scarred machine while the stallion spoke, eyes slowly scanning over every little detail. Whispering Wind had taken just as much rifle fire as her own tank, she noted, but it had been just as ineffective here. Eventually, she turned away, leaning on the fender and looking up at Biscuit. "Do you guys want me to go and see about some replacement parts? Surely it can't be that hard."

"Eh, don't worry about it tonight. Odds are the repair ponies are all settling in for bed by now, and I'd rather not send you on a mission to piss 'em off. We'll see to it first thing tomorrow. Speaking off, shouldn't you be getting ready to hit the hay too? We might be getting sent out on another field trip tomorrow, I hear."

Suppressing a sigh, Cream stood up straight again. "Yeah... yeah I probably should. But can you do me one favor?"

"What's that?" Biscuit asked, raising one eyebrow and leaning in a tad. Cream was blushing, already struggling to maintain eye contact.

"Can ya show me how to shift gears without grinding them, again?"

)()()()()()()(

By the time Cream was done with her latest lesson, the moon had fully risen above the horizon to cast its pale glow on the world. Most of her learning was done in a stationary vehicle this time around, but B.B. was good enough at reciting what he'd learned in basic training for Cream to absorb a little knowledge. The most important thing she learned, she thought, was the fact that the tank transmission was "sticky" compared to that of her truck. With that tidbit in mind, plus a few other tips and tricks from Biscuit's personal experience, Cream felt more confident. If nothing else, she could probably shift gears without tearing them up now.

After finishing up and saying her goodbyes and goodnights to the crew of Whispering Wind, Cream Soda finally turned back toward her tank and her crew for the night. The wind hadn't died down in the slightest, and the brief moment it took her to cross the street between the two houses felt like an eternity spent crossing the frozen north. The wind whipped her mane up and down and made her overcoat flutter like a cape, and her uniform jacket did almost nothing to stop that same wind from biting right at her hide. She galloped as quickly as she could manage while ankle-deep in snow, and soon enough she made it across the street and into the merciful shadow of the house her crew was staying in. Sighing, Cream tried her best to stop shivering on her way up to the back door.

Their tank, number 21, stood silent guard in the backyard. It was easier to see now that the moon had come out, the grey hull reflecting the pale light just enough to make its outline easily defined. Cream paused, though she didn't know why, and merely stood on the back porch for a moment. It was quiet all around her, save for the whistling wind, and she knew the rest of her crew were likely asleep by now. She was in a camp surrounded by ponies, but the moment felt oddly lonely. The tank looked lonely too, sitting away from the house like a dog put out of the house and without anywhere to sleep. After thinking on it for a moment, Cream realized that it was probably silly to be assigning emotions to a big steel tub full of oil and bullets.

Turning around, Cream opened the back door as quietly as she could and crept inside, discovering that Emerald had done quite a bit of rearranging while she and Sage were busy. A mess tin had been saved for Cream, set aside on a short and squat table placed in front of the couch, and her bedroll was placed neatly on the floor beneath it. Their supplies had been stockpiled in the corner, covered by a small tarp just in case. Cream grabbed her tin and bedroll, balancing the latter on her back, and silently shuffled through the house. The kitchen was dark and likely useless without electricity and natural gas running to the house, so Cream passed it by without much thought. Beyond that was a hallway lined with doors - two on the left, three on the right. The first door was a bathroom on the right, then the rest looked to be bedrooms. One, sadly, was full of partially melted snow that had been allowed in through a window that the previous occupant left wide open.

Cream poked her head in anyway, exploring what appeared to have been the master bedroom. A big mattress dominated the room, dusted with snow, and in the corner was a similarly big wardrobe. Cream stepped toward it, but felt her hoof slip on something smooth on the floor. After nearly losing her balance, she glanced down at the offending surface. It was difficult to see in the dark, but after leaning down a little, Cream realized what she was looking at. It was a sheet of paper, printed with an evacuation order for the town of Riverpool. The date was close to the beginning of the war, and all of the official wording boiled down to an order to abandon everything that wasn't absolutely necessary and head to the train station to be evacuated to Whinnyapolis. Cream felt a lump in her throat as she swallowed, backing away from the little note. Had the ponies living in this house made it out in time? Had everypony else in Riverpool? There weren't any bodies, sure, but the town had been in enemy hooves for most of the war - that was plenty of time to clean up.

Before her thoughts ran away, Cream reined herself in. She knew the town had been evacuated early, so the odds of anypony becoming a prisoner were probably slim to none. Everypony probably made it out of town just fine. Satisfied with her reasoning, Cream crept back out of the master bedroom and finally found where the rest of her crew were sleeping. The room right across from the bathroom was a smaller bedroom, occupied by three other sleeping mares all bundled up in sleeping bags and huddled together for warmth. Cream sat down and dropped off her things, shrugging her bedroll off onto the floor and carefully grabbing her mess tin. Opening it, she was greeted with lukewarm oatmeal. A little bland, but it beat going hungry - besides, it was far from the worst meal she'd had since joining the army.

After eating in relative silence, Cream silently set her tin down and wormed her way into her sleeping bag before trying her best to get comfortable. The room was cold, and the blankets that had been laid out on the floor did little to make it any softer of a sleeping spot. Nonetheless, Cream curled up and closed her eyes, running through her usual routine of quieting her mind and slowing her breathing until she fell into a dreamless sleep.