Duskfall

by Celestial Swordsman

Shellshock

Chapter 12

Applejack lay pinned under and among dead ponies, with enemies rushing around her. Gunfire and cries of pain filled the air. She rested her head on shell casings in a puddle of blood. She felt as if she had died. In the darkness, she could feign death, and no one would notice. Perhaps she could somehow survive the battle and live to take care of her little sister Applebloom.

Then she remembered Luna. She remembered the Rough Riders she had recruited. She remembered her brother, somewhere near her. “The general was right,” she whispered, “I can’t give up.” She looked again at the body of the colt that trapped her there. The corpse couldn’t be as heavy as an apple tree; she could free herself. If she could, she had to.

The determined major gathered herself and tried to heave the body off of herself. It only partially worked. She tried to squirm out from under the weight, and aided by the slippery blood, she was half free. She looked up at a pony who saw her struggling. The soldier raised a rifle to plunge his bayonet into her. Applejack fumbled for her revolver, but her hoof did not find it in time.

Dirt burst out of the sides of the trench and her attacker folded over backwards as heavy impacts drummed all over the scene. Another warm weight toppled onto Applejack from the other direction. The silhouettes of more Solar troops showed over the edge of the trench but immediately sprawled backwards or added to the heap of death in the ditch. Before she knew what was happening, strong hooves pushed the limp equine mass off of her. A big red face asked, “Are you alive?” Big Macintosh leaned over a heavy machinegun to take hold of his sister.

Applejack’s face lit up, surprised that they had both survived. She mustered an “Eeyup,” and he helped her to her hooves. The big stallion again lifted the machinegun like a small firearm. Smoke still flowed out of its barrel. The remaining Rough Riders as well as some members of the 5th Lunar who had come to their aid finished their counterattack and reoccupied the forward trench. Together with the soldiers shooting down from the wall of the Fastness, they had pushed back the first wave of enemies and remained in control of all the positions next to the fortress.

Everything to the north was in enemy hooves. By the time reinforcements arrived they found it was they who were assaulting an entrenched enemy. Stragglers from the failed maneuver retreated through the fortifications towards the Fastness. While they could not retake lost ground, they had taken the momentum out of the Solar attack, preventing them from pressing the assault south towards Applejack and Big Mac.

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As the Solar Armada turned to withdraw, the 51st Pegasus “Mustangs” chased after them. The Lunar flyers spread out to survive the flack and closed into tighter formation as they came in amongst the airships. The flack guns held their fire rather than shoot through their attackers and hit their own vessels, but friendly fire was deemed an acceptable risk for the machine guns. Automatic gunfire flashed across the length of the warships as gunners struggled to track the quick pegasi. Griffins and some pegasi scrambled out of the ships to do battle in the air.
At the flight leader’s signal the Mustangs gathered to the center of the enemy battle group and with a cheer of “Remember Cloudsdale!” they executed a synchronized weather maneuver. They streamed the air behind them and twisted around each other in a living vortex. For a brief moment they presented the perfect target for the machineguns and some of them dropped limply from the swirling column. When the pegasi spiraled away from the site, they left a roaring tornado.

The sudden storm blew the fleet into confusion and delayed its retreat from the guns of the Fastness. The force of the wind wrenched off the rudder of a cruiser. The vessel drifted off course farther into the danger zone. A hit from the 18 inch guns rocked the ship, but it kept flying. The alarmed crew gained control and steered away from hostile airspace, but it was too late. The gunners in the fortress already had their range and another shell bored into the midsection of the cruiser. It struck the magazines, and the resulting secondary explosion blasted the ship in two. The airship’s gases ignited and the fore and aft sections dropped from the sky as separate fireballs, with the loss of all aboard.

Their mission completed, the Mustangs again scattered to make for Lunar lines. The flight leader’s lieutenant caught sight of a target he could not pass up, and aimed for the Solar flagship on his way out of the formation. A griffin spotted him and chased after the pegasus. The flying eagle-beasts preferred to fight with their natural weapons, and so the pursuing griffin spread steel-enhanced talons as it closed in behind the lieutenant. It almost snatched him from the air, but the flight leader intervened and wounded it with a burst from his sub-machinegun. The griffin twisted away out of sight. “Don’t be crazy! Get out of here!” ordered the lead Mustang.

“One more thing, and I’ll see you back home,” the lieutenant replied, and with a salute rolled away towards the Imperial Sovereignty. He plunged toward the Solar General on the deck below. He fired bursts from his automatic weapon at his golden target. The crew ducked away from the surprise strafing, but the armored general stood his ground. Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted similarly off the warship and the unicorn. Armor pulled the flyer down towards him with his bladed horn. The Mustang beat his wings to escape but could not break away. He was sucked down onto the glowing weapon. They collided, and with a toss of his head General disemboweled the flyer and flung him onto the deck behind.

He blinked to push his foe’s blood out of his eye; red drops rolled across his cheek like angry tears. “Send a bomb hauler to the north and prepare to destroy Ponyville. When it’s in position, move the fleet back into range of the Fastness.”

“Sir, how will that help? What about the guns?” the vice-admiral protested.

“It will test her resolve,” he replied. “She’s only as secure as she allows herself to be. My Empress taught me the moon’s weakness, and I’ll grind my hoof on it.”

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The trenches were once again still and quiet. Soldiers had rejoined their units and the wounded had been carried behind the lines. Eyes and guns were now pointed to the north trenches, where they knew the enemy lurked. Applejack leaned on her brother’s side. Her once-golden coat was smeared with mud and coagulated blood. Only the mud showed on Big Macintosh because he was already red. He stood watch with his new machine gun. He didn’t look at his sister, but only remained strong and stoic. That was his way of comforting her, and it was working.

A stir moved through the ranks; orders began to come in as units were rearranged to prepare for the next phase of battle. General Graywood gathered the intact companies just behind the new front line and readied them to retake the positions lost in the last attack. The 5th Lunar Regulars who had joined the Rough Riders in their trenches were among those called back to form the spearhead. They were replaced by the last-resort reserve troops such as the engineers, some of whom hadn’t been trained for combat.

Pinkie Pie gingerly picked her way through the trench toward the Apples. Her mane and tail had been puffy like cotton candy, but now they were deflated. With her mane lying straight and limp, her helmet settled down over her face. She stared up at the metal rim rather than see what she was stepping on. A pistol dangled in her hoof, but she didn’t remember if it was hers and she wasn’t looking at it either. Finally seeing familiar ponies, she rushed up to Applejack and Big Mac, but stopped a few feet away. She was close enough to see her friends more clearly; but they were blood-spattered and fierce, and she withdrew a step.

Applejack turned slowly and asked, “Pinkie Pie? Are you alright?” They looked each other in the eyes for a moment, each seeing the other differently than before. The part of Applejack’s mane not shaded from the moonlight by her crumpled hat reminded Pinkie Pie of strawberry shortcake; under other circumstances she would have said something cute about it. This time it was blonde and blood, so Pinkie looked away. Applejack produced a piece of candy and held it out to her friend, but Pinkie shook her head. She had already tossed the cookies she ate before the battle.

Big Macintosh nudged Major Applejack to alert her of something to the north. She followed his gaze to a large figure that stepped out of the night onto exposed ground. “I can’t tell what it is,” she admitted.

He agreed, but added, “It’s comin’ from a bad way,” and lined up his gun. The shadowy creature lurched toward them. As it got closer they could distinguish the form of a minotaur hobbling on an injured leg but keeping a steady pace.

Applejack made out a blue bandolier and notified, “He’s one of ours.” He lurched closer. He snorted angrily and his oversized fist clenched a pistol tightly as if he would crush it.

Pinkie Pie peeked over the edge of the trench and spoke uncertainly to the newcomer, “Mister Plinkers?”

“Whoa,” Applejack cautioned as she noticed his eyes, which glowed and flickered unnaturally. “Somethin’s not right.”

Another Rough Rider climbed out of cover to assist his comrade. The minotaur roared furiously and charged, firing several shots at the good Samaritan. The country soldier was wounded and fell; he would have been killed, but the brute’s rage prevented him from aiming his weapon effectively.

Pinkie Pie jumped up and broke her silence, yelling, “Mister Plinkers! It’s me, Pinkie Pie!” The bull whirled to face her and roared again. “I threw you a party! Don’t you remember me?”

Applejack pulled the pink one back down before the crazed minotaur shot more rounds in her direction. Big Mac had hesitated to see if Mr. Plinkers could be calmed, but now he fired a carefully measured burst into the attacker’s broad chest. The eerie light left the minotaur as he fell dead.

Pinkie Pie jumped back up and rushed to where the big bull lay. “Don’t you remember, Mister Plinkers?” she pleaded with the corpse, “I threw you a party when you came through Ponyville. I was just going to bring cupcakes, but you said you wanted chocolate pie. You were right, it was amazing with extra sprinkles.”

Applejack came to her side when she was satisfied that the injured Rough Rider was being tended to. “Messed up shit,” she could only conclude. “I’m sure he remembered you, Pinkie Pie, it’s that damn dark magic.” She led her friend back to the safety of the trench.

Pinkie Pie looked up at Big Mac and whispered in disbelief, “You killed Mister Plinkers.”

The big colt shook his head and gave a low, doleful, “Eeyup,” before resuming watch on the hostile horizon. The two mares stood silent as tears rolled over Pinkie’s face. Applejack leaned on her brother’s side as the tough cowgirl tried to hold herself together. Pinkie Pie leaned on Applejack. She glanced up at Big Mac, who slowly nodded his approval.