Her mother had a word for it. Stage fright, that’s what she called it. Granted, there was no stage to speak of, and she wasn’t a performer either, yet the signs were all there.
Dizziness?
Butterflies in the stomach?
Weak knees?
Yup, she had them all.
With a careful head turn, Night Shift took a quick peak around. It really didn’t help.
The Manehattan Courthouse was absolutely bursting with ponies. Most were onlookers, some rather well-dressed actually, and would thus witness today hearings from the newly-built upper gallery, at least those that could pay for it. The others would have to make do with either the seats in the back of the hall, or none at all.
Meanwhile, the first rows had been claimed by the press. And by the Goddess, there were a lot of them!
It looked almost as if the entire city’s journalist body had descended there to witness today after-war trial, like a swarm of grasshoppers on a fat harvest. They had even brought multiples camera crews along, just for the event.
And all of them had their eyes on her, a thestral seated in a witness box that seemed to shrink by the moment.
Night Shift drew a deep breath. Then another one, just in case. Was it just an impression or had her uniform’s collar suddenly tightened around her neck? She resisted the urge to give it a pull.
Oh come on! You’ve faced far worse and now you’re scared!? Get your shit together girl, you’ve got this. Thirty minutes at most and then you’re out of here.
That seemed to ease her worries a little bit, and she stood a little straighter in her seat, the rim of her leathery wings brushing against the chairback.
“Ma’am, please state your full name and rank for the record.” The prosecutor was a unicorn stallion, smartly dressed in a business suit and tie. Judging from the lines on his face and around his eyes, he was well past his forties.
She nodded. “Night Shift, Lieutenant, 2nd Regiment, 12th Onhooves Division.”
The prosecutor rose from his seat and began pacing before her as he spoke.
“From what I understand, lieutenant, you took part in the Battle of Bales, correct?”
“I did, sir. I fought there and all the way up to Whillyapolis.” She shifted in her seat. “I got a nasty scrape there though, and I was out of the fight during the push on Canterlot.”
“I see.” He came to a stop before her. “Would you please describe your role before the war for the court?”
“Objection!” the defense counsel, pegasus mare, cried out as she rose from her seat, both forelegs planted firmly on the wooden desk.
“On what ground?”
“Relevance, your Honour,” the mare explained. “The lieutenant’s experience has little to do with the accusations levelled against my client.”
“Your Honour,” the prosecutor said evenly, “The lieutenant’s experience is relevant, as it gives context to the accusations levelled against General Soarin.” He never turned to acknowledge his colleague.
The Lunar Magistrate, an earth pony, was surrounded on both sides by four lower judges. There were a few glances exchanged, a shake of the head or two and then she said, “Overruled. But see to keep it brief.”
“Thank you, Your Honour. Ma’am, I will repeat my question. Would you please describe briefly your role for the court?”
“Of course.” She cleared her throat. “Well, to put it very simply, I joined the EEEE quite early, mostly under my pa’s recommendation, even though he had always been more of a … militant kind of stallion. You could say that looking for troubles runs in the family. From there, I quickly went to the Night Watchers and then, once the shit hi-”
She stopped, chuckling nervously. “Oh, sorry. I mean, once the war began, I volunteered myself for the Imperial Army. Of course, that wasn’t the official name back then.”
“From what I understand, you quickly made it to sergeant, correct?”
She shrugged. “One of the officers said I had an attitude for command, so they put me in charge of a platoon. The alternative was a Chiropterran officer, and those guys were a bit creepy to be honest.”
“How did you receive your promotion to lieutenant?”
“My CO was killed in a Solarist ambush during our fight in Bales. I grabbed all the mares and stallions still alive and lead a counterattack. From there, I guess I just became the de-facto leader of Delta Company. My promotion came a bit later.”
“Thank you. Would you please describe your experience in Bales to the court?”
Night Shift hesitated. “Well … there’s not much to describe, really. The 12th went on the line to halt the Solarist advance. Eventually, we did.”
“Your foes were the members of the Equestrian Army and Royal Guard, correct?”
She shook her head. “No, not just them. The regulars were somewhat honourable, if you can say that, and most of the fights in Bales with them were quite straightforward. But the others?” Her voice hardened.
“Those psychos would go out of their way just to kill any thestral. Adults or colts, stallions or mares, it really did not matter to them. Heck, it didn’t matter if those were thestrals in the first place. I think the words used were ‘those damn bat-friends from Stalliongrad’, or something like that.”
“Are you referring perchance to the Solar Militia for National Defense?”
She nodded. “That’s the name they went for, yeah.”
“How did you defeat them?”
“According to the prisoners we took, they often butted heads with the regulars. The Army did not have the stomach to do what was asked of them. So, one night, we punched a hole through their lines in the suburbs, which were pretty thin by then, and hit them in the back with our machine gun company. Most surrendered once they saw that we had them on all sides.”
“What about the Militia? Did you take them prisoners too?” the stallion asked.
“No.”
There was a pause as a heavy silence fell into the room. A few audible gasps came from upper gallery, soon drowned out by the scribbling of pencils and rattling typewriters.
Night Shift could feel the sweat on the back of her neck. She had actually said it, hadn’t she?
“Why not, lieutenant?” The prosecutor seemed to be the only pony unperturbed by the statement.
Night Shift felt her mouth suddenly drying up. For one single, unending moment, images flashed before her. The metallic smell of blood flooded her nostrils. Pulse quickening, she struggled to suppress the emotions swelling inside her.
Was it fear? No, no, not that. It was much stronger. Anger, a surge of righteous fury that she hadn’t felt in a long time, since the civil war had ended.
Another image, this time even more vivid, played before her eyes. She could feel and hear everything: the cries of the wounded; the rattling and barking of rifles and machines guns; the flames’ heat as the Town Hall burned across the street.
The adrenaline surging through her veins, as she plunged her bayonet through a Solarist stallion’s throat and ripped it open.
As calmy as possible, she continued. “Most of the times, they simply refused to surrender. They would fight with the same ferocity of cornered diamond dogs, with a fanaticism to put even a Longswordian to shame. And they would not hesitate to just rush us with knives or homemade explosives, once the bullets run out. I’ve lost one of my corporals that way.”
“Counsellor, I’m not seeing how recalling the lieutenant experience has any relevance with the case,” the Magistrate stated.
“I’m getting to it, Your Honour.” His horn lighted up and he produced a document from the stack of paper on the evidence’s desk.
“Lieutenant, are you aware of Order 77?” he casually asked, the document now hovering before him.
Night Shift nodded. “All of us were, sir.” She had to keep herself from hissing the answer. “Our night units intercepted many of their runners, so we had a pretty clear idea.”
“Can you please explain to the court what the implementation of Order 77 meant in the Battle of Bales?”
“Objection, hearsay” the defendant said.
“Your Honour, everything the lieutenant is saying has already been presented to the evidence as official military documentation. This is not hearsay.”
“Overruled.” This time the Magistrate did not consult with his lower piers. She turned toward the defendant with a deep frown. “Consultant, your client’s defense does not excuse you from abuse of procedure.” The pegasus mare sagged a little in her seat.
“Do I need to repeat my question, lieutenant?”
Night Shift shook her head. “No, there’s no need.” She took a deep breath. “Order 77 authorized the regular army and its armed auxiliaries to persecute, arrest and detain all those that posed a concrete and tangible threat to the security of Equestria and its harmonic principles.”
“In Bales, that meant hit squads roaming the suburbs. Offices and department stores turned into holding places and torture rooms for suspects. Schools emptied and used as improvised tribunals and grounds of summarily executions.”
“I see,” the stallion said with a nod. “Was there a distinction between thestrals and non?”
“If there was, the orders we intercepted didn’t mention it. Chancellor Neighsay and his Cabinet of National Emergency did not seem to care who was being strung up from the lampposts.”
“Lieutenant, from what I understand, the military forces involved in Bales on the Solarist side were all under General Soarin’s command, correct?”
The prosecutor was again pacing back and forth. His demeanour was relaxed though, radiating an almost supernatural aura of calm, as if he owned the place.
“That’s right.”
“Do you believe then that General Soarin gave his tacit approval to these atrocities?”
Night Shift nodded. “Undoubtedly. General Soarin was perfectly aware of all those acts, and yet he not only gave the order to not interfere with them but went so far as to assign regular forces to assist these pacifications, as his orders called them.”
She stopped for a moment, her eyes wandering toward the defense’s table. There, beside his consultant and still dressed in the old pale-brown uniform of Army officers, was General Soarin, once second-in-command of the now defunct Wonderbolts.
He sat stiffly in his chair, eyes trained firmly forward. He had lost some weight during his detention, and he still wore restraints around his wings and forelegs.
The thestral could feel the blood boiling in her veins. The asshole could at least have the decency to look at her.
And to think me and sis always looked forward to the Wonderbolts summer’s performance!
“General Soarin is complicit, if not responsible, of the slaughter of Bales thestrals’ rights groups and the local EEEE chapter,” she continued, venom slipping in her voice. “Those under his command targeted unarmed ponies and thestrals in a deliberate campaign of state terror, without much concern for their so vaunted Harmonic values! He’s a fucking disgrace to the uniform he wears!” she spat.
“Objection!” the defendant again cried out. “My client’s moral character is not being questioned, but only his alleged actions are! I request that the lieutenant’s last statement be considered void as baseless!”
The Magistrate gave her a pensive frown, then nodded. “Very well, sustained. Lieutenant, this court remind you to refrain yourself from speculations. General Soarin is on trial for his alleged action during the Daybreaker’s Ascension, whether his role in it constitutes treason and whether his conduct during the war lead to the unjustified death of Equestrian citizens.”
There were loud grumbles coming from the gallery and the rest of the room. They quickly ceased once the Magistrate brought down the gavel with a loud smack.
“Consultant, do you have further questions for your witness?”
The stallion gave a polite shake of head. “No, thank you, Your Honour. I’m done for now.” He turned toward the defense before walking back to his seat. “Your witness.”
The pegasus mare rose and approached Night Shift with a newly mastered air of professionalism.
“Lieutenant, from what I understand, you used to be quite active before the war. Politically speaking, I mean.”
“Objection, relevance” the prosecutor immediately said.
“I can’t say I was,” Night Shift answered regardless. “Unless you consider joining up with a union being politically active.” She noticed the prosecutor arching a brow at her. Was she supposed to wait for the Magistrate answer? Maybe, but she didn’t see what harm could come from that question.
“So you were part of a union then?”
“Yes, ma’am. The East Coast Railway Union,” she said, not without some pride. “The job was hard, but those are six years of my life I would never trade away for anything.”
“Ah, interesting.” Her eyes glinted for a moment. “I’m sure you’re well aware of the Markzist influence within its ranks. It’s not like it was some sort of secret.”
“Tell me, Lieutenant,” she said as she produced a few documents sheets from her desk, “Is it true that you were arrested back in 1005 during a strike?”
Night Shift’s eyes narrowed on the mare. She had an inkling of where she was trying to get, and she didn’t like it at all.
“Yes, it’s true,” she admitted. “The company had decided a general cut on wages, as well as laying off a few dozens of our fellow workers. We protested and once the scabs failed at their job, they just called the MMPD on us.”
“Oh, I see. Although I must admit I’m rather confused right now, Lieutenant.” She held up the papers in one hoof so that the entire room could see them. The one at the front had a clear, blue-inked stamp belonging to the Manehattan Metropolitan Police Department.
“According to this report, which was written after said incident, the local department claim that during the operation they found much, and I quote, subversive material and literature, of clear and evident Markzist and Stalliongradian influence. They then proceeded to list the names of stallions and mares who had said material with them.”
Night Shift had to summon all her self-control to not grind her teeth.
She’s just baiting you, girl. Keep calm. Don’t give her a chance to get under your skin and you’ll b-
“Are you a Markzist, lieutenant?”
She froze in her seat. The question, even if delivered in that calm tone of voice, felt like a rear kick in her guts. Her lungs felt suddenly empty.
“I… I-I beg your pardon?”
“My apologies, I’ll repeat my question.” She stepped closer to the witness box. “Are you, whether in the past or the present, a follower of the political doctrines expressed by Caramel Marks and his works?”
“Please remember that you’re under oath.” The shadow of a smile formed up on her lips for a brief moment.
“Objection, relevance” the prosecutor snapped, more firmly this time.
“Sustained. Consultant, if the line of questioning has no pertinence with the case at hoof, we suggest moving on. This court is not interested in political affiliation.”
The pegasus mare nodded, backing off slightly. “Of course, of course. My apologies.”
Night Shift was about to draw a breath she hadn’t realized she was keeping, but stopped just short. Aside from the fact that it would have been quite visible, the defender still held that air of smugness around her.
“Just a couple more question, lieutenant, if you don’t mind. What uniform are you currently wearing?”
The thestral tilted her head to the side. “The one of Her Majesty Imperial Army.”
Aside from the dark-blue colour and brown leather straps, it wasn’t much different from the one worn by General Soarin. The only clear differentiation between the two was the rank. And the White Moon sewn on her shoulders, of course.
“I do believe that there is also an oath upon receiving said uniform, correct?” Night Shift nodded tentatively.
“Would you mind reciting it?” As she saw the puzzled look on her face, she added, “Humour me, lieutenant. I’m sure there’s no harm in that.”
She half-expected the prosecutor to interrupt her again, but that didn’t happen. Perhaps he was just curious as she was to see what other scheme she had concocted this time.
Night Shift had to pause a moment to remember it. She felt as if she had pronounced those words a lifetime ago in a deserted Manehattan public park, together with a hundred young volunteers that would become her family for the next six months. It had been a very sombre, almost rushed, ceremony and yet those words came back in a moment after a brief inner search.
“I do solemnly swear true faith and allegiance to Princess Luna, rightful ruler of Equestria, and Nightmare Moon, Empress of the Night. From this day on, I will serve Them faithfully and honestly against Their enemies. I swear to obey Their commands and those of the officers appointed over me.”
“Thank you, lieutenant,” the consultant interrupted her. “Do you believe, in your opinion, that a similar kind of oath would have been required in the Equestrian Army, back when it still existed? The loyalty to the Princess, I mean.”
Night Shift shrugged. “I … I guess so.”
“And who was the Princess of Equestria in December 1007?”
“Princess Luna, of course.”
The pegasus mare picked up a copy of Order 77 from the evidence’s table and handed it to her.
“Lieutenant, would you please read for the court the first paragraph of the order that you and your soldiers intercepted from the enemy?”
Frowning, Night Shift did so. “The following is an official directive from the Cabinet of National Emergency, acting under the benign authority of our beloved sovereignty, Princess Celestia, Warden of the Sun and Most Serene Monarch of Equestria, to all field commanders under the jurisd-”
“Tell me, Lieutenant,” the mare interrupted her, “what is a pony under arms supposed to do when there are two alicorns claiming to be the rightful ruler of Equestria? Whose orders is he to follow? And most importantly, who is the enemy?”
Night Shift blinked once. Then a second time. And then she finally snapped.
“Who is the enemy?!” she snarled, her leathery wings flaring to the sides as she rose from her seat. “You may haven’t noticed it, miss, but that question has been answered already! Thousands of our fellow ponies from all the four tribes, many of them friends of mine, are no longer here because they gave an answer to that very question!”
“Indeed it has, lieutenant,” the consultant said, unfazed by her outburst. “The question has been answered, hasn’t it? The tyrant Daybreaker is no more, long live the Princess of the Night. But you have yet to answer my question.”
“The matter of legitimacy was not settled when my client’s alleged crimes occurred. Equestria had for almost nine months two Princesses claiming to hold the rightful rule, each with a degree of legitimacy backing their claim. And between these two God-like figures, thousands upon thousands of young stallions and mare clashed and bleed over the fate of our nation.”
“So I’m going to ask you again, lieutenant. In such circumstances, who is a pony to follow as his or her rightful sovereignty? And how one determines who is a patriot and who is a traitor?”