Kaiserreich: Legacy of the Conversion bureau

“The only thing that scares me more than space aliens is the idea that there aren't any space aliens. We can't be the best that creation has to offer. I pray we're not all there is. If so, we're in big trouble.”

― Ellen DeGeneres

Bude, Cornwall, Union of Britian, January 6th, 1930

Andrew Daly tightly gripped his Lee Enfield as he and his comrades looked over the vast land that was england, it was a peaceful time of the year. The old Nordic building stood proudly in the distance, the sky was a neutral shad of Grey, and there was some snow, not as much as there was in February, but it was there. Only after repeating that in his mind had it hit him, "A peaceful war" he said under his breath, "only wish it was true".

A older fella, probably in his mid-forties, gave him an awkward look, obviously hearing his statement, “Don't expect any wishes now comrade, damn imperialist-pigs have driven us to the breaking point” he said as he had put a couple rounds in his respected rifle. Another older member of the militia, but still looked young enough to have served in the weltkrieg, turned to the old guard and began to joke, “if this was 1926, they'd a hauled you off for not being patriotic enough, now I hear even Philip Snowden had thrown in the towel before London fell” the last part he said with a less joking look on his face.

They all took a minute to bow there heads in respect, word of mouth had claimed that after London fell, which was just ten to fifteen days before, a captured Snowden was approached by the Tyrants ponies rulers, Celestia and Luna, The leaders of these “equestrians” demanding unconditional surrender. Being the man he was however, he decided he take the fall for the union, and committed suicide during the meeting. For Daly, no, for EVERYONE, this hit home hard, to think that a man of that inspiring nature had died, its was almost too much to hold. He remembered when those welsh protests sparked the greatest development Britain every seen, but that was a story for another day.

There little moment was broken when their commanding officer, a clean cut man in his late twentieths, began to shout orders to all the young, scared men, as well as the grim, darken veterans. “Alight men!” he screamed “our job is a simple one, so those god forsaken ponies probably don't even know what I'll hit them” he walked down from the trench to make his orders more clear, “we are to hold this position so the rest of the army can get the ships ready for sail, once we're clear, we can meet up with the rest of the army and begin the trip to France, our comrades there will give us shelter until we retake the Islands.” as the officer finished, a young volunteer pointed out towards the fields in front of them, “incoming!” he yelled over the still barking officer.

For a second, Daly was about to correct the young man for seeing a rainbow on the ground, to which he started to question his own commonsense. The fields before him where a complete mis-mash of random colors, slowly moving towards their positions, every so slowly picking up speed. After about a minute of confusion, it hit them, its was the ponies, and by this point they where charging the lines. every able-bodied man threw himself at the small protection that was the trench, and began to open fire on the advancing imperialists.

Daly worked the bolt on his rifle and picked a target, just a blurred mass of green. He felt the rifle kick and saw his target go down, all along the trench, most of the veterans where repeating this progresses almost drone like, while the many young conscripts with zero training, had their rifles flailing about around themselves. A couple of feet away a Vickers machine gun began to hammer death on the advancing ponies, then another, and another, until it seemed the whole go-damn republican army sat on Daly's trench.

The enemy went down in numbers beyond counting, and just like that, the advances stopped, dead in its tracks. Everyman in the trench stooped firing, and turned to each other for answers. As Daly was about to attempt to fire another round to restart the onslaught, when he hear a strange noise he had never heard. Its sounded like a large bird, no, MANY large birds, all in the sky. The officer's face was drained of all color, as the realization came to him “oh shi..” was the last words out of his mouth before he was hit by a crossbow from the shy, as blood drained from his neck in response. “PEGASI!” one of the old guards yelled. Daly looked up at the sky to find it seemingly populated with flying pegasi, the basic shock-troop of these ponies. And shock they did, as they began to dive towards the trenches, not caring that now the whole of the Union of Britain's last defense began to throw everything they could at them. Daly pumped out more lead then he had in his three weeks of combat, but nothing seemed to slow the steady advance, and soon a small metallic parcel made contact with the ground.  At that moment the everything went red, fire rose from every corner of the trench, men where sent into the sky, as all hell broke lose in a matter of seconds.

Andrew picked his head up after having been thrown to the ground. One of the young men was curled up in the fetal position, nearly sobbing, as he ranted, “what the fuck just happened, what the fuck just happened!”. The old man he had talked to grabbed the man by the collar and began a rant of his own. “They dive bombed us, the whole damn republican air force destroyed months ago, so we're sitting ducks here!” he shouted in the young mans face, which was now shedding tears like no mans business, “and unless you want to stick around and get captured, we need to head to the docks”. Andrew, followed by the young man nodded in agreement, and left through the many wounds inflicted to the trench.  Daly turned back for a moment, thinking about getting any other people away from here. “it be a miracle if any one survived, let alone be able to make it out” he though as the trio kept on running.

After a few minutes, which seemed like hours, they reached the hill to which over looked the ports in which they would evacuate. Andrew wanted to let out a sigh, but something inside him told him not to. The pair where already at the top of the hill when Daly finished a short prayer, even if he was a syndicalist, he still had a little faith. That faith was destroyed when he reached the top of the hill, repeating the exact same expressions the other two men held. The scene before them as one of utter chaos, the pegasi must have bombed the port as well, as not even a single ship was seen afloat. Not only did the English ships no longer exist, but the French ships that where to escort the survivors to France, where also slowly descending into their watery graves below.

Realization, a feeling new to Andrew, finally set in. everything the party had told him was a lie. Everything those posters that hanged on windows and street signs was a lie. Everything the big speakers on the corner of the street shouted at civilians was a lie. Their was no hope for victory, no chance of freedom. The syndicalists like Philip Snowden and Aurthur Horner had led them to a cliff, and now everyone was free falling because of them.

At this point, Daly would of cried, probably broke down in a mix of rage and fear, if it where not for the large sharp object gently touching the back of his head. “Hands up, NOW!” shouted the female voice. The old guard, and the young man turned to face their captors, hands raised high above the air. Andrew hesitated, considering running from his potential captor, only coming out of this train of though by another poke to the head, causing him to turn quickly to face his new masters. Standing before them a dozen winged ponies, (good thing he didn't run), and one was right in Daly's face. It had a two-toned orange mane, but the rest of her body was covered up by a strange blue and yellow outfit. She grew a grin on her face, “come with us, your now prisoners of the Kingdom of Equestria.” the mare declared. Daly and his comrades had no other choice, there was no other way of escape. As Andrew walked away not only from the scene before them, he realized that he was leaving everything else behind to, the False hopes of syndicalism, the false sense of hope, his former life. Everything grew smaller and smaller as he and his “comrades” where marched away likes pigs ready for the slaughter house.