Penitent Shield stared at the horizon. He lay prone on his stomach surveying the scene before him. The rolling plains and hills seemed endless, a far cry from the deep forests and stark mountains of his homeland Equestria. He had seen desert before. When he was a foal he had visited Appaloosa territory, but it really couldn’t compare to Zebraland. He’d been here for eight months now, trying to keep the Zebra Empire and the Boerperds of Transvaal and Vrystaat Oranje from killing each other. It had only taken him a month to realize that it was a lost cause. The Boerperds were a hardy bunch, that much was certain, but if the zebra wanted them gone, the pitiful force amassed by the coalition of Equestria and various other allied states would hardly turn the tide in their favor.
Penitent turned to look at his squad mate, Zephyr Whisk. Just to irk his fellow soldier, Zephyr smiled. The earth pony knew damn well that it pissed Penn off, grinning like an idiot all the time. But despite (or more likely because of) that fact, he insisted on doing it all the damn time. Rolling his eyes at Zephyr, Penitent spoke. “See anything?”
Zephyr replied in his usual upbeat tone. “Nope, not a single thing. Kind of a boring day really.”
Penitent nodded in response and looked off to the left where his other two squad mates were. There wasn't much sense in calling out to them, they'd have let him know by now if anything unusual had happened. Penitent lifted his binoculars again and went back to scanning the horizon. One particularly annoying feature was a fair sized hill just over a kilometer and a half away. Standing orders from the Major said not to set up scouting positions past the hill where Penitent’s squad was now, but that bucking hill was a glaring blind spot. Penitent looked at it silently for what must have been five minutes when he felt a hoof tap him on the shoulder.
“Alright there, chap?” Came a voice from behind. Penitent rolled over, it was his squad leader Corporal Flourish. Flourish was a unicorn barely a year older than Penitent. A solid section leader, but clearly (since he was in the Infantry and not the Magi Corps) Flourish hadn’t shown a good deal of magical talent. Penitent replied concisely, as he always did. “Yes, Corporal, just keeping watch.”
Flourish smiled. “That’s a good lad, knew you’d make a good Lance. Now, Private Whisk, would you hold down the fort here while I speak with your section head?”
Zephyr nodded. “Not a problem, Corporal.”
“Jolly good. Come on then Lance Shield.”
Shield followed his section head. He was taken out of earshot, and the Corporal spoke quietly. “I wanted to talk to you, lad.”
“It’s a good thing you took me away from my post then, Corporal.” Shield said flatly.
“Don’t get cheeky, I worry about you.” Flourish shot back somewhat indignantly.
“I can’t imagine why. Have I been slipping?”
“No, not in the least. Your marksmanship is right up to snuff; your section completes any and all assigned duties in a timely manner, and you always look perfectly spiffy for the officers on parade. But that’s not all there is to the job is there?”
“Corporal, I’d appreciate it if you’d say what you mean to say.”
Flourish sighed. “Very well then lad. I’m here because my family has done this for generations. Whisk is here because he needs the money for his missus. Every single colt at this Celestia-forsaken outpost has a story, and no one’s sure what yours is. It makes everypony nervous.”
Shield laughed. “Are you saying you can’t trust me, Corporal?”
“No, if I couldn’t trust you I couldn’t have very well made you a Lance could I? I think the real question here is whether you trust all of us.”
Shield wanted to reply but was cut off. “Listen, Penitent, I’ve seen the bag of letters you haven’t sent. Don’t worry, I didn’t read them, not my place. I saw them though and you must have one for every rotten week you’ve been here and none of them have a stamp or address on the envelope. It’s a little bit unnerving when a pony writes a stack of letters just to hang on to them, gets ponies thinking the wrong things you see.”
Shield fell silent. He had served with this unit for just over a year, and he had to admit, there was some truth to what Flourish said. He hadn’t really opened up to them, but it wasn't about not trusting his unit. There was a good reason for the unsent letters. If the Corporal had checked he would have seen they were all for the same mare. Luckily it seemed that the Corporal respected his privacy, or this conversation would have involved questions that Penitent would have preferred not to answer. Either way though, the Corporal had been clear, his silence was starting to unnerve the ponies he served with. He opened his mouth to respond, but just then an unusually frantic Zephyr Whisk called out to them.
“Corporal! You’ll want to see this!” Flourish and Shield raced back to Zephyr.
“What is it lad?” Flourish said as he arrived next to the young stallion.
“Zebras sir! Hundreds of ‘em! Thousands! See for yourself!”
Flourish grabbed the binoculars and looked through them, exclaiming at the sight of the approaching enemy. “Buck! We’d have seen them a damned hour ago if we had been set up on that hill... no point worrying about it now.” He took a moment to collect himself, and then handed the binoculars back to Zephyr. “Private Whisk keep me informed on their movements and position. If they start moving anywhere I want to know. Lance Corporal Shield! Inform the Major.”
“Corporal the Major’s not here, he’s with the main force for a training exercise in Winberg.” Shield replied.
Flourish raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the Officer Commanding then?”
“I think it’s Leftenant Storm.”
Flourish grunted. “He’ll have to do then. Inform him of the situation.”
Shield nodded. “Yes Corporal.”
“Work those wings of yours lad, we’ve not got much time.”
Shield nodded again in acknowledgement and took off back towards Drift Station, his home for the past few months. The station was a motley collection of buildings and tents next to a river, inconveniently situated in the middle of a small valley. It was technically supposed to be a resupply station, but was currently being used primarily as a hospital. The majority of the ‘garrison’ were wounded. As he approached the station, Shield noted his fellow soldiers sitting around cooking fires, boiling water, cleaning their weapons, maintaining the station, and generally going about their duties as soldiers were (usually) wont to do. As fast as he could, Shield flew towards the Command Post but followed regulations and landed a good 20 meters away from it. It was a stupid rule, inspired by fears of suicide dive-bombing pegasi or some similar idiocy.
Shield hit the ground at a gallop, but was quickly stopped by Private di Mezzo. “Ah, Lance Corporal Shield, have you given any thought to my offer? We could use another bass, and I’ve got you pegged as a good one. Not to mention, I know you could use some excused duty time now and again,”
Shield rolled his eyes. He most certainly did not need excused duty status; he didn’t enlist in the military to avoid work, like some ponies. And he certainly didn’t enlist to sing in a damned choir. “I don’t have time for this Dolce! I need to see the OC!”
Di Mezzo looked a little crestfallen. “Oh well, maybe next time old boy.”
Penitent felt a little guilty in spite of himself. It wasn’t like Dolce was going out of his way to annoy him (like Zephyr did) he really was just trying to be friendly. He made a mental note to apologize to the idiot later, when and if they weren’t all about to die.
Penitent galloped over to the Command Post, where Master Warrant Officer Dart was stationed outside the door. “Flying a little fast aren’t we Lance Corporal? Remember the standing orders? We wouldn’t want our actions to be interpreted by anypony as hostile would we?”
Shield replied quickly. “Sir, my apologies, but it’s absolutely imperative that I speak with the OC! Is it Leftenant Storm at the moment?”
Dart gave a concerned look. “Yes it is, is there a problem?”
“Yes sir, a big one.”
The Warrant Officer nodded understandingly. “Go on in then lad, don’t waste any more time.”
Shield did as he was told and rushed in to the Command Post, inside were three rooms. One was the Commanding Officer’s quarters, and the other two were offices. He ignored the Supply office and went straight to the CO’s office, which Lieutenant Storm should be inside during the CO’s absence. Shield knocked on the door and almost immediately received a response in the form of the calm voice of Knight Lieutenant Gale Storm.
“It’s open.” Shield didn’t know a lot about the officer. He was an auxiliary, not even a Platoon Commander, and he mostly kept to himself. Shield noted with worry that the stallion may not be qualified to command a company on the verge of battle.
Shield pushed those thoughts aside and opened the door. When it opened he saluted, somehow allowing protocol to take precedence over the urgency of the situation. He noted that the Lieutenant’s chair was faced away from the door, so that he couldn’t see Shield. The Lieutenant waved Shield in casually. “Something to report, soldier?”
Shield continued to stand at attention as he delivered his report. “Sir, we have a problem. My section is on guard duty by the southeast ridge, and we observed a zebra formation across the river, could be thousands strong, they’re stationary now, but...”
“But they could head our way at any moment...” The Lieutenant said pensively.
Lieutenant Storm was silent for a moment. He continued to face away from the soldier reporting to him, in an effort to mask his facial expression. If the soldier had seen the grim look on his face, the barely contained frustration and hopelessness, then his confidence would have been shattered. Gale fought a battle in his mind about what to do next. He wouldn’t have time to consult any of his superiors over the telegraph, so the decision rested on him alone. Hold the station or withdraw? The officer weighed the consequences of both decisions in his mind.
The zebra used pathetically antiquated technology. They had no firearms to speak of, and their wooden shafted stone-headed assegai were inferior to Equestrian metal spears. Not to mention that the Equestrians had armor, which the zebra considered cowardly. The technological advantage unquestionably went to his troops. Numerical advantage? Well that was obvious, Storm had barely one-hundred and fifty troops, and many of them were wounded. The whole Impi of the Zebra was over thirty thousand. Even a small portion of that would be more than enough to overwhelm this station. Training and tactics? On the surface it looked easy; of course the professional Equestrians, from a ‘civilized’ nation had the advantage. But Storm knew the truth of the matter, the military was not a high priority of the Equestrian government. Training methods were outdated to say the least. More importantly, many of these ponies were soldiers because they needed the money. The zebra were warriors through to the core, and their combat prowess reflected it. To underestimate them was a common but lethal mistake.
Gale’s options were limited. He could assemble the company and head into the hills. Harassing the Zebra with firearms and hopefully diverting them from whatever their target (unquestionably the Allied base at Winburg) was. Or, he could dig in and hold the station. Harassing was safer for his stallions, unquestionably, but if the zebra didn’t take the bait.... Winburg was poorly defended at best, without warning there would be no way that the coalition forces there could resist the Impi. And past this station was Vrystaat, filled with Boerperd civilians. The zebra didn’t hold to the same rules of war that the coalition did, everypony, civilian or soldier, was a target to them.
Gale took in a breath, and turned to face Penitent Shield. Shield stared at the officer; the grim look of determination in his steel grey eyes belied the Lieutenant’s uncertainty. Storm stood up, and donned his helmet.
“Fly to all the scout positions and get them to form up in front of the Command Post soldier.” Storm put his hooves together in a businesslike fashion. “We’ve got work to do.”
*****
Keys’ walk home took him right through the center of Ponyville. It was too late for most ponies to be out, they were either on their way home or closing up what few shops were still open. The moonlight shone brightly against the thatched roofs. In the center of town, looking down upon all its inhabitants with a caring smile was the statue of Princess Celestia.
Though Keys knew it was only a statue, something about it made him feel safe. He had only ever seen the Princess once, when she had come to town to visit her student Twilight Sparkle. He noted the statue captured her quite well. Keys couldn’t help but smile when gazed upon it; somehow, he knew not to worry, that everything would be alright. That thought stayed with him until he unlocked the front door to his townhouse. He walked in the door and kicked the dirt off his hooves onto the mat.
His roommates weren’t in the living room. After a quick fridge raid, he deduced that they weren’t in the kitchen either. Therefore, they must be either asleep or still out. Keys decided not to take any chances, and refrained from turning on the lights. Silently as he could, he made his way up to the bedroom on the second floor. As he lay down Keys realized just how tired he was, and silently thanked Spark for giving him the chance to get a reasonable amount of sleep. By the time he drifted off, Keys had forgotten why he had wanted to stay at work longer in the first place.
*****
Celestia looked at the sun in the sky. It should almost be time. She felt awful, dirty, manipulative, every brutal epithet she had ever applied to her enemies. The battle of Drift Station would begin soon. She hoped, in spite of what she knew, that their ends would come quickly.
*****
Drift Station was a flurry of activity. Lieutenant Storm had met with the Company Sergeant Major and quickly briefed the garrison on the situation. He wasn’t one for speeches and honestly he couldn’t think of any way to spin the situation to make an inspiring oration. All he could think of were orders.
“All told what’s our strength Warrant?” The young Lieutenant addressed the Sergeant Major twelve years his senior in service, and in age.
The NCO responded immediately, having known the numbers off by heart. “Platoons one through five, but strength reduced as you already know. Seven officers including Surgeon, Commissaries and so on; those two Boerperds you were talking to earlier I suppose, the commando and the policeman; from our own, wounded and sick 36, fit for duty 97, not much of an army for you sir.”
Gale tried to stop a groan from escaping his mouth, he had assumed at least 150, but it seemed even that was too much to ask. Don’t think about it, he thought. Deal with it.
Gale barked, ensuring other nearby NCO’s would hear. “Alright, I want a redoubt in the centre of the compound, nine feet of sandbags at minimum! The outer line should be at least four! First platoon! Take the north wall. Second and Third on the south, Fourth should be ready to reinforce as necessary!” The Lieutenant pulled Warrant Officer Dart aside. “Get detachments from wherever you can and put them in the hospital; have them put firing holes in the walls. With any luck they won’t get close enough for it to be an issue, but at least we can have the patients well enough to stand backing us up.”
Verdant Dart nodded. “Right you are, sir. I’ll pass it along. What about Fifth?”
Gale looked at where his perimeter would soon be. “I want them evenly dispersed. Get the best marksponies on the south wall, I feel like we’ll take the brunt of the offensive from there. Get Fourth and Seventh sections in the centre have them ready to commit to a melee whenever we need them.”
Verdant saluted and ran off to do as he was told. Gale went to the armory and grabbed an officers cuff. He hated that officers received better weapons than enlisted colts. It was a unicorn thing, Gale noted with disdain. Unicorn officers were usually aristocrats, and if daddy’s hoofing the bill for the army, you can damn well bet he’ll be making sure his little colt is as safe as can be. Even if that safety comes at the expense of the ponies he’s supposed to protect.
Gale stopped himself before that train of thought progressed any further. Like it or not, the ponies at this station were his brothers until this battle was over. Gale pulled on the cuff and inspected it. Rifle cuffs were designed to fit anypony, in theory. The best ones were metal and custom-fitted to the pony who used them. Military ponies were not so lucky, they received a leather cuff with straps that could tighten or loosen as necessary. On the side was a long metal barrel that ended where the cuff ended, it was breech loaded, which could be a pain in a tight situation, but not nearly as much as the old muzzle loading models. When he slipped the cuff onto his foreleg, it fit nicely. The weapon was designed so that walking and trailing the barrel on the ground wouldn’t damage it (although ideally barrel covers were suggested for extended periods) and when in combat, the pony simply lifted the foreleg that it was on, took aim, and fired. The barrel was rifled, so it was fairly accurate, and some more advanced models had a longer barrel that could hit an egg at 300 yards (Gale had thought this was nonsense, until he saw a Boerperd do it). The best militaries in the world tried for six shots a minute. Gale’s record was ten. The Equestrian army average? Better not to think about it. The troops would be thankful for those reload drills now.
Gale secured the cuff and went back outside to oversee the preparations. From the sky he could tell it was nearly four o’clock. A thought confronted Gale that this might be the last time he ever saw a sunset. He had an overpowering urge to take off for one last flight, but he suppressed it. He was an infantrypony, a dirt kicker. There were other pegasi here, and he knew they all felt the same, but he could not afford to distance himself from the rest of the soldiers like that. He was, regardless of race, their commander. And they were, regardless of race, his soldiers. Gale smirked. For all the talk of unity and harmony in Equestria, peace love and understanding weren't what brought ponies together. The one and only place that ponies truly regarded each other as equals, was on the battlefield.