> Night Mares
>  by NCMares
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Night Mares



Princess Luna cast a worried glance to Princess Celestia. The two stood awestruck before a plethora of sketches, schematics and magical equations that covered an entire wall of Princess Twilight’s large study. The only wall, in fact, that was not otherwise haphazardly packed from floor to ceiling with shelves of books. 

The lavender alicorn had been busy. 

Outside of the office, Twilight’s vast arcane laboratory nested within the depths of Mount Canterlot went about its business. Which, as far as Princess Luna was concerned, meant advancing technology at a disturbingly rapid pace. 

Were it up to her, this facility wouldn’t even have to exist. When ponies went to war in times of old it was on equal terms – an ordeal as honorable as it was horrifying. The conflict that Equestria had now endured for nearly six months, however, was still very foreign to her.

Gone were the rudimentary firetubes and spears employed by neat columns of marching ponies. The modern enemy attacked with weapons and tactics that far outclassed the Equestrian Guard’s, striking without warning or regard. Although Equestria was now finally in a position to properly retaliate the princess found herself apprehensive in fully embracing Twilight Sparkle’s proposal. She exhaled and shifted in her armor to stand a little taller. That would not do. The opportunity to level the playing field was at hoof, and if these... enhancements were the way to take advantage of it, then so be it.

“Five squads of three will be allocated to both you and Cadance, Princess.” Twilight Sparkle closed her briefing.

Luna looked to her. “How soon will the squads be ready?”

“Two weeks.”

Luna nodded, careful not to show her astonishment that these assets had been developed with such swiftness. The Solar, Crystal and Lunar guard had sustained catastrophic casualties to buy precious time for these laboratories to develop a response to the enemy. Modern firetubes – rather, guns according to Twilight – were now in mass production alongside steel tracked machines that rumbled toward the front as they spoke. The guard had all but been replaced by now with volunteers and draftees. The true war was at hoof, and she needed to be strong if Equestria was to stand a fighting chance.

“I know you are unsure, Luna,” Princess Celestia muttered, “but this enemy spell matrix must be dealt with as soon as possible.”

“She’s right.” Twilight affirmed. “The very air is the enemy’s tool, and if we can’t figure out how they’re doing it then the least we can do is prevent its further use. As long as the enemy can communicate instantly, we cannot hope to mount a successful offensive.”

Luna sighed, then finally put voice to her concerns.

“We do not doubt your intelligence, Twilight Sparkle, but We would inquire how even you were able to revolutionize the Equestrian arsenal with haste such as this.”

Twilight’s eyes flicked to Celestia for a moment before returning to Luna.

“We possess a certain, erm, correspondent with another species that is exceptionally well versed in warfare." She explained. "In fact, they’ve been perfecting it since their time began.”

Princess Luna’s eyes went to the ground in contemplation. Nothing in the known world could possess technology of this caliber – not even their attackers. 

The known world…

She slowly brought her eyes to level on Twilight.

“Sunset Shimmer.”

Twilight nodded. “Without her help this war would have ended months ago.”

Luna narrowed her eyes and spoke low. “Then this technology – these tactics – they are not of this realm?”

Twilight, though taken aback at Luna’s sudden shift in disposition, retained her composure. “No,” she replied with an edge to her voice, “but without them, Equestria will fall.”

The princess of the night opened her mouth as if to reply, but did not speak as she accepted the cold fact that without these laboratories the war was, indeed, as good as lost. She looked again to the schematics on the wall and nodded in understanding.

“Very well. If you and my sister believe it best that our little ponies wage war such as this then you have my blessing.” She bowed her head to Twilight and turned to Celestia. “I must return to the front. I bid thee good fortune, my sister and Twilight Sparkle.”

“And to you, Luna.” Celestia replied.

“Princess.” Twilight bowed her head.

The door to the office shut and Luna began the journey with her guard to the surface. Princess Celestia looked once more to the wall and lightly shuddered. These laboratories had given them a great opportunity, but she also had reservations. She trusted Twilight, however, and if the former element of magic thought that this was the best course of action then she would back her the whole while.

“May I see them?” Celestia asked her fellow princess.

“The subjects? I suppose. They’re not awake yet, but you may see the current operations.”


--


The alicorns made their way across catwalks that hung above the brightly-lit facility. The floor below was alive with scientists and magicians in white coats striving to find the perfect balance between efficiency, deadliness and physical limitations. Celestia thought she caught sight of a severed hoof for a moment, but as she turned her head to take a better look it was lost to the organized chaos of the laboratory. 

A particularly sharp *CRACK* jolted her and sent a small tremor through the metal platform. None of the other ponies, not even Twilight, seemed fazed as the sound echoed into the nether. If anything, she looked rather pleased as she gestured toward a long stretch of empty laboratory space.

“That’s the firing range.” She explained. “Where the weapons testing occurs.”

Princess Celestia knew that firearms were loud, but that test brought a new definition to the word entirely. She could only guess what that weapon would do to the poor pony on the receiving end. Twilight led her down a flight of stairs to a large metal door labeled in block lettering simply as ‘02’. To the left and right were similar doors spaced at large intervals counting to ‘05’. With a clearance spell Twilight set the door ajar and they proceeded inside a sub-facility that, in great contrast to the bright space outside, was dimly lit by red lights embedded within a low ceiling. The heavy door shut behind the princesses and with it the outside noise ceased. In here the ponies wore the same white coats but talked in hushed tones – barely above a mutter.

“Please keep your voice down, princess.” Twilight whispered. “The technology in here is fragile and the ponies working on it must remain focused. Follow me.”

She led the way down a hallway featuring glass on either wall that allowed viewers to observe the projects therein. Celestia looked to her left and quite clearly beheld a severed yellow hoof – hopefully not real – suspended by a number of cables. The ponies inside were looking over a schematic detailing the way by which artificial fingers could be implanted. 

She remembered that from Twilight’s briefing earlier in the study. To actually see the schematics becoming reality, however, sent a cold shiver through her spine. The next room had no scientists inside but instead held a great array of weapons on large racks. While traditional firearms were designed to be fired with hooves, the firing mechanisms on these rifles were petite – much too small for even the tiniest of hooves. The princess thought back to the hoof schematics and then to the testing range.

Twilight Sparkle stopped at the end of the hallway, casting a spell toward the grey wall. When the princess stopped beside her the wall ascended to reveal a large window overlooking a cylindrical white room. A powerful light focused on an operating table where a half dozen scientists operated on a yellow earth pony mare with an apple-red mane. 

Her hind legs below the knee were gone – replaced instead with a metal framework and an abundance of wires. The patient’s eyes were shut in sedation as the mask over her muzzle kept her aloof to what was happening to her body. The mare’s left forehoof was also absent, and Celestia recalled with a terrible bout of queasiness that the hoof further back in the hallway was the same shade of yellow as her coat.

“This war must be won, Princess.”

.

.

.

But will it be a pony that emerges from the ashes?
> I
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Night Mares
Part I. Dusk


I.

July
Year 6 of the Harmonic Age

Faint rumbles ripple through the quiet night as a storm develops on the horizon.

“…but it’s not thunder. Is it, Apple Bloom?”

My orange eyes remain focused on the clouds in the distance as they are occasionally lit from below by rapid flashes of yellow and white light.

“No.” I answer. “I reckon thunder ain’t nearly as pretty as what we’re seeing right now.”

I sit perched in a tree overlooking a cliff face bathed in moonlight and surrounded by fireflies. The animals of the forest are completely silent. They're aware of the coming storm. The only sound to be heard is the occasional quiet roll of a particularly large detonation.

What must it be like?

After another minute of watching the clouds advance toward us Sweetie Belle speaks up. “We ought to keep moving, while the moon is still shining.”

I breathe deep as a light breeze rustles through the pine trees. I nod to myself and drop from my perch, landing with a heavy thud next to Scootaloo. We rise to all fours and I nod toward the forest, disappearing inside with my friends following close behind. The forest canopy blocks most of the moon's glow, but like a great spotlight it manages to shine through spaces upon the grass below. It’s exceedingly beautiful. In one moment we are immersed in white light and the next shrouded in darkness.

“Are you girls nervous?” Sweetie Belle asks.

"Heh, yeah." I quickly mutter.

“Good – I was hoping it wasn’t just me.”

“I think you’d have to be crazy not to be.” Scootaloo interjects. “I don’t know about you, but I sure haven’t done anything like this before.”

“Nopony's done this in a mighty long time, Scoots.” I pause and then add, “Let alone like we are.”

I listen to the little mechanical sounds of my hind legs as we trot onward. Each step is accompanied by tiny hissing and wheezing. My foalhood friends and I are among fifteen ponies under the command of Princess Luna equipped with such technology. Technology that will finally give the Equestrian nation a chance to really fight back against her invaders. Nervous doesn't begin to describe the feeling in my gut – that sinking weight reminding me that other pony’s lives depend on me.

This is our very first mission – sabotage two magical 'radio' installations deep within the forest. Twilight Sparkle said that the hostile ponies communicated instantly with each other over huge distances with waves. Not like water waves, though – she says they’re like magic in the air. I’m not sure how all that works, but I do know that if a grease-pony like Scootaloo can’t figure out how it all ticks then we are well equipped to destroy the sites, anyhow. 

The conversation ebbs away as it usually does whenever our hooves are mentioned. We volunteered to receive them, but it was still mighty disturbing to think about what our friend Twilight and her scientists had accomplished. When we awoke for the first time Sweetie about had a heart attack when she saw her legs – the poor thing kept asking for her old ones back for hours. We got better as we learned to use them, but that first day was the hardest. I don’t reckon anypony can blame us - I ain’t ever heard of a pony walking on two legs before.

The moon’s light fades as the deep violet clouds advance far above. Within minutes the cloud cover is unbroken and we are practically walking blind.

“Settle down,” I mutter. 

The last thing we need is to fall down an unseen ravine in these mountains. The wind suddenly picks up, rushing through the leaves and flicking my mane over my shoulder. We crouch low and huddle up at the base of a tree as gentle raindrops begin to pelt the earth. We don’t talk about it, but I know we’re all wondering what it will be like when the sun comes up. What it will be like to do what we have to do.


--


None of us can sleep while we wait for the sun to rise. I can hardly sit still. I think about what it will be like to use these weapons. How it will feel to shoot somepony. How it will feel to be shot at. I frown and bring a hoof to my face. With a thought three small black fingers and a thumb separate from the yellow of my natural body and I curl them in and out. These are powerful, too. If it came to it these could be as deadly as any gun. I quietly sigh as I lower my hoof and think about home.

Applejack had been drafted only a week before I left for Canterlot into the tank corps. Those machines were truly terrifying – belching smoke and growling like a monster as the ground shook under the treads; let alone the enormous gun. Where Twilight and her team thought up this stuff, I’ll never know. Snug inside a steel beast is probably about as safe as it gets here in the Northwest, so I’d rather AJ be there than anywhere else.

She’s probably worried sick about me, no doubt wanting more than anything to plant a helmet on my head. I wonder what she’d think of my hooves. Big Mac and Granny are probably thinking of us both back home on the farm. His wound is probably patched up good by now. I feel a drop of moisture on my foreleg. It’s not rain. With a sniff I dry my eyes and sigh as the wind sweeps across the grass. Do I already miss them this much?

“Are you thinking of home, Apple Bloom?” Scootaloo whispers.

“Yeah.”

She nods. “Me too. I’m really missing Ponyville and my folks right now.”

“Me three!” Sweetie pipes up quietly from around the tree.

“What do you think Rarity’s up to?”

“Probably asleep.” Sweetie laughs softly. “But missing me as much as I miss her.”

“I bet Rainbow Dash was in that battle we saw earlier – kicking flank like a true Wonderbolt.”

“Maybe Applejack was, too?”

I remain silent and look to the sky through the pine needles. It’s gotten lighter. Almost time to go. I lift the flap of a pouch on my vest and refer to the map therein, figuring we can’t be more than a mile from our destination. My heart begins to beat a little faster. I put the map away, retract my fingers and rise to my hooves.

“Let’s move.”


--


“Turns out the advance scouts were off by a quarter-mile.” Sweetie mutters behind large binoculars

We lay on our bellies at the edge of the forest, observing a stretch of grass between us and a small wooden building barely visible in the gloom of dawn. A large structure soars into the grey sky from the roof, crisscrossed by metal framework and a number of small dishes and orbs. A lone guard scans the forest from a perch in the tower.

“I’ll stay here and take care of the tower.” I whisper. “Scootaloo’ll use that ditch over there to get as close as she can before rigging the bombs.”

We look to a shallow dip in the grass running parallel to the building and into the forest beyond. At least fifteen trots stand between the ditch and the site itself, however. Ain't no way she’ll be able to get very close before I’d have to shoot the guard, alerting anypony in the building and probably within a mile to our presence.

“I think they’re asleep.” Sweetie Belle passes the binoculars. "They haven’t moved at all the whole time we’ve been here.”

Although I can’t guarantee they’re asleep, I agree with her that the guard is not moving.

“The sun is about to come up. I’ll go with Scootaloo while you watch over us. If anything happens, just whistle or something.”

I nod and swallow hard. Sweetie and Scootaloo quietly shuffle away from me and make their way to the ditch. I lick my front teeth and release a quivering breath. This is really happening. My chest lightly tightens and I bring forth the long rifle, hooves all but shaking in anticipation. I settle the weapon and peer through a telescope fixed atop the barrel. With remarkable clarity I fix my gaze on the still guard and then pan to the meadow, waiting for my friends to appear. My ears twitch as a breeze sweeps through the forest, carrying with it a sound like rushing water.

There – I spot Scootaloo crawling ahead of Sweetie in the tall grass. When they’re about halfway to the antenna I look back to a now empty tower. My heart sinks and my mouth goes dry. After three failed attempts I finally manage to give a quick whistle like that of a bird, hoping that that anypony besides my friends would buy it as such. 

Scootaloo immediately stops and waves toward Sweetie. I finally spot the guard approaching their position. I bring the cross-hairs to bear on his – no, her – head. She seems tired, squinting into the forest with a gun at her side. It's a lot different than ours but very lethal. I feel one of the fingers on my left hoof detach itself and wrap around the trigger. 

One shot, and then the rest will come.

I catch my breath and focus. Only two things are in existence now – me and the pony I’m about to kill. A moment before I fire the mare suddenly gives a cough, yawns wide and turns about. I blink, letting out the breath Twilight told me to hold when firing and almost chuckle as I loosen my grip on the trigger. The quiet sounds of dawn return to my ears.

I follow the retreating guard and jump as Scootaloo suddenly enters my viewport on her hind legs. The pony can barely turn her head before my friend clamps a hoof over her muzzle and thrusts a knife through her neck. They collapse to the ground, Scootaloo holding fast as the mare thrashes with less and less fervor as the seconds pass. I watch her give a lurch and the motions suddenly cease.

Scootaloo, the first of us to draw blood, motions to Sweetie. She rises to her own hind legs and, with weapons trained on the building, they advance across the meadow. Horrified, I remove my eye from the glass.

How could she? 

How could I, for that matter, when the time comes? My breath quickens as my friends approach the base of the tower. 

Like nothing! She just killed somepony and went her way without even…

Even what? Showing remorse? Holding a proper burial and informing next of kin? Is this not what we’re here for? What Twilight trusts us to do?

I recall how close I was to taking that mare’s life. With a shiver born not of the wind I realize that I felt nothing in that moment save for devotion to my friends. I hope Scootaloo felt the same way when she unsheathed her knife. 

Scootaloo plants the explosives at the base of the building and then, before I know it, she and Sweetie are stepping backward from the site, weapons still pointed forward in case somepony decides to step outside for some fresh air.

The golden sun is just peeking over the treetops when my friends finally disappear into the forest. I look back to the dead mare lying in the grass. The wind lightly picks at her blonde mane. Her back is to me, but when the brilliant sun strikes the meadow through the trees I can clearly see a crimson stream staining her brown coat.

I tear my eyes from the corpse as Sweetie and Scootaloo return. In the latter’s hoof is a small device connected to a wire. Her vest is dark with blood and a few drops rest below one eye.

“Brace,” she mutters. She presses the button.

The installation erupts in a cloud of black smoke and dust. A split-second later my ears flatten down as a thunderous roar blasts through the meadow and into the pit of my stomach. Pine needles rain down as the racket echoes through the forest, frightening dozens of birds from their nests.

I open my eyes, rise to a knee and shakily sling the long rifle across my back. 

When the time comes, I need to be faster. I can’t think - if I think then one of us will be killed.

Continuing to look at the smoking wreckage I mutter, “For the record: One installation destroyed. Nightmare Two continues to the next site.”

I won’t let one of us be killed.

> II
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Night Mares


II.

July
Year 6 of the Harmonic Age

Soft rain not unlike a fine mist gently falls upon the forest under rolling grey clouds. There are no pegasi in the Equestrian Northwest to manage this weather. Much like the Everfree Forest back home these woods are badlands that have inspired many a frightening tale. The stories born within these pines, however, are far more foreboding than what Ponyville had to offer. None of these have anything to do with silly old ponies looking for horseshoes or headless horses that somehow devour fillies. No, the ghost stories born of these mountains are terrifying in their ability to be very much plausible.

There just ain’t no two ways about it – some of them might be true. Worse still is how natural the forest is. The Everfree was full of monsters and strange magic that could be blamed for any misfortune that befell those passing through, but in these mountains the most we have to worry about is running into a bear or a pack of timberwolves. Sweetie and Scootaloo didn’t hear anything, but I swear that when we were gearing up to head out I heard a low howl that was definitely not a timberwolf. Whatever it was, wind or not, my blood turned to ice when I heard it.

A cool breeze tugs at my ponytail as I lead my friends across soft, green grass in silence. I’m sure Scootaloo knows what Sweetie and I want to ask, but she’s remained silent ever since we left the first objective hours ago. I just don’t know what to say. How do you ask your friend what it’s like to kill? To feel somepony’s life slipping away in your hooves because you are taking it? Her vest is surely stained with that pony’s blood, and I doubt even a serious scrubbing will remove the dark blots. I turn my head around to check on her and she brings her eyes from the ground to look right through me and into something beyond. My fur stands on end. I really don’t like what I see.

My hind legs give a quiet wheeze as I turn about. She stops short, looking at me with wide violet eyes as she takes a step backward. She’s bottling her emotions up, and she of all ponies should know the implications of that. Diamond was in the hospital for three days, after all. We just need to get her to talk about it. Thing is, I’m not sure I’m prepared to hear it.

I take a breath and softly ask, “Scootaloo?”

She blinks and looks to the ground, lightly scratching at the grass with her forehoof as if she were a filly being lectured. I glance at Sweetie, who gives a reluctant nod.

“How…” I pause in trying to find the words. She’s scrunched her face as if angry. I need to tread carefully. “What –”

“It’s horrible!” Scootaloo suddenly sobs, bringing her eyes to level with mine. “That’s what it’s like!” She collapses to her haunches with a heavy, quivering sigh. “It’s just so...” She gasps in a breath and then clenches her eyes as tears emerge. Sweetie quickly trots up and puts a hoof on her shoulder. Scootaloo lets out another shaky breath and finishes with a croak, “So wrong, Apple Bloom. It’s so wrong…”

I sit down before my friend. “Come here.” I offer and take her in an embrace. Her quivering form clings to me as if she would disappear if she let go.

She quietly sobs for a few minutes, her back heaving up and down with each exhale. The motions gradually lose fervor and her whimpers eventually fade. She finally opens her eyes and gasps in a lungful of air. “But it’s so easy.” She whispers and then gives a long sigh. My own breath catches and I look nervously to Sweetie. She’s right terrified.

“It is?” she asks softly.

Scootaloo gives a tiny nod, clenching her eyes while she wipes her muzzle with a hoof and shuffles away from my forelegs. “That’s the worst part.” She sniffs, “It was too easy…”

Sweetie looks back to me with lips pursed.

With a rustle Scootaloo rises to a sitting position and brings a forehoof to her face. The little black ovals in her orange hoof extend outward, forming metal fingers. “And I have to do it again.” She sighs.

With four little clicks the fingers retract. She stands and offers her hoof to me. Her eyes are no longer as vacant, but I can tell that what happened this morning will haunt her – maybe forever. I take her hoof and stand on all fours myself.

“Are you OK?” I ask carefully.

Scootaloo takes a deep breath and nods. Although she’s anything but, she nonetheless looks at least a little better than she did a few minutes ago. I, on the other hoof, feel a sickly weight in my stomach growing heavier by the minute. My time to take a life is fast approaching, and I’m not at all looking forward to it.

I give a tiny reassuring smile and turn about, trotting forward as the noon sun pierces dark, grey clouds with brilliant golden rays. Thunder booms overhead, but though the sun shines warm on our backs the misty rain continues to fall.


--


I don’t know what it is, but that rumble is not thunder. For the past minute we’ve remained absolutely still, the only sound beside the patter of raindrops being a distant hum. My ears twitch as a bout of real thunder sends a tremor through my chest and lingers in the sky before finally fading away.

“Let’s check it out.” I order. The second objective is less than two miles away, but Princess Luna has also tasked her Night Mares with the performance of what Princess Twilight called “reconnaissance,” which is just fancy-talk for spying.

Four metal pads normally clinging to either of my hind legs clamp down into the grass, providing balance as my stomach lurches in my ascent to stand on two legs. I bring the long rifle from my back and cradle it in my forehooves. My friends mimic the action and with three sharp clacks  our weapons are primed. I nod once and we quickly make our way through the trees with vests lightly bouncing atop our shoulders. Our equipment clicks softly alongside the mechanical growl of our legs as they work harder to support bipedal movement. The ground is shaking by the time the rumble gives way to guttural roars, and within minutes we can see motion through a break in the trees.

A long column of enormous steel boxes roll atop a multitude of wheels that feed a pair of ridged tracks into the earth. Their engines are deafening, but even more frightening are the massive barrels that point skyward. At least a dozen are within sight, but there’s no telling how many have already passed or how many are to come. Our friend Rainbow Dash named her pet tortoise after these machines, but they’ve advanced far beyond what are traditionally referred to as tanks.

I bring the glass of the long-rifle scope to my eye. Every machine services around a dozen ponies that ride on whatever space they can find while those who were too slow to hop on are forced to march at the sides of the road. Hundreds of ponies must be traveling this road - maybe even a thousand! As the minutes roll by with the tanks I reckon that we are witnessing the mobilization of a force that’ll put up a fight on par with the distant battle we saw last night.

A tap on my shoulder diverts my attention. Sweetie Belle silently beckons us to follow. After a final look to the road Scoots and I follow her away from the procession. The ground is only lightly trembling when Sweetie finally stops. She’s scared, and rightly so. What we just saw will decimate the Equestrian forces if they’re caught unawares.

Sweetie poses a question. “Scootaloo, do you think you can work a matrix array?”

Scoots looks to the ground in contemplation. “I don’t know, but I worked with the prototypes a little back in the lab. Twilight’s close – I know it – but from what I could tell she needs somepony to contact her. If we can get a hold of an array, then I can at least try.”

Sweetie nods her understanding. “Let’s go get one, then.”

I agree. Even in a full gallop it would take more than a day to hoof it back to the forward base in the Shimmering Valley. If Scootaloo can’t get the device to work then I don’t think too much time will have been lost before we run back, anyhow.

“We have to hurry.” I remind them. “Let’s go.”


--


“Stay low.” I whisper. Sweetie Belle and I crouch in the shadow of the trees just twenty trots from a sunny clearing containing the facility.

It looks almost identical to the structure we found earlier save for an active patrol and the absence of a guard tower. At a moment’s notice these ponies can alert their allies to our presence with their radio spell matrix, which means we need to be fast in our attack. Ideally, we would wait for night to fall, but time is something we don't got. 

Scootaloo waits at the tree line up ahead, ready to take out the roaming patrol the moment I shoot the radio operator sitting with their back to an open window. That is, I’m fairly certain he’s the operator. The device itself is out of sight, but he has large cups around his ears that probably allow him to use it, seeing as nopony else has them. Don't really matter none, seeing as my crosshairs are aligned perfectly with the middle of his head.

“There may be more inside.” Sweetie points out. “I’ll go with Scootaloo. When you fire I’ll break in.”

She slowly rises from her belly and hunches low in her advance to join the pegasus. The raindrops have gotten slightly heavier and are falling with greater intensity. The rays of the sun shift frequently as the clouds come together in preparation for the storm. Sweetie Belle arrives at Scootaloo’s side and nods back to me.

I take a quick inhale as my heart quickens its rhythm. 

This is it. 

I force myself to take long, deep breaths just like Twilight told me. Doing so sets my belly aflutter.

I separate my finger from my hoof.

I have the long rifle because I maintained my accuracy in training.

My finger wraps around the trigger.

I have the long rifle because I can consistently put down targets hundreds of trots away.

My breath catches and every single raindrop can be clearly heard.

The princesses and my friends trust me to operate this weapon. If I don’t, they will die.

My brow furrows and I squeeze the trigger.

A powerful sound like bottled thunder drives my ears against my skull and sets loose debris into a flurry around the long-rifle’s muzzle. In an instant the thunderous roar gives way to a sharp, crackling echo. Twilight taught me not to blink when I fire, so I clearly see the pony jerk forward as a thin trail of blood laces the path his head takes in its descent to the ground. 

Sweetie is immediately on her hind legs and sprints to the array as Scootaloo fires a trio of quick shots into the patrol. I flinch with each *crack *of her gun. The patrol’s chest emits three puffs of dust into the air and he collapses. Sweetie has by now busted in the door and from within the building just one muffled shot rings out. A peal of thunder faintly booms.

After a few moments Scootaloo calls out to her. She must have answered, because Scoots is now waving to me on her way inside. My lungs are beginning to burn. With a cough I bring air back into them and swivel my ears from the curve of my head. The sounds of the forest return. I breathe deep and shakily rise to my hooves, slinging the long-rifle. I just killed somepony, and from what I can make of things Sweetie just did, too.

I wait for something to happen. If anything has, I don’t feel it. In fact, I don’t feel much of anything save for the lingering rush of adrenaline running through my body. I trot forward, looking out for anypony that might be responding to the racket. At the treeline I wait, looking about for any other patrols.

Nothing.

I gallop to the door and promptly come upon the wake of Sweetie’s entry. The enemy mare must have been rushing outside when the door met her face. Sweetie kicked it so hard that she was sent into the opposite wall. A small web of cracks and a streak of blood mark the impact, leading to a crumpled, bleeding heap on the ground. I grimace and walk forward into a dark room where my friends stand before a wall covered in dials, knobs and a great many wires. Scootaloo ought to feel right at home.

She’s currently running her hooves over different components of the matrix array but hasn't touched nothing. I look up to Sweetie. She quickly glances to me and then back to Scootaloo. Her green eyes look alright. I suppose mine do as well, judging from her lack of reaction. We don’t say anything, however. Like me, she probably doesn’t want to talk about her first kill, either.

Various clicks emanate from the device as Scootaloo begins rearranging different wires and twists a number of knobs. After a few minutes of seemingly random motions a box on her left emits a crackling noise into the air. She looks to it with a mix of surprise, apprehension, and joy. I’m about to ask what’s happening when muffled, distorted voices begin to mix with the cackle. My fur stands on end at the mention of a ‘princess.’

“Scootaloo?” I ask. She only looks to me, nodding with a dumbfounded smile.

“Canterlot.” She confirms. “Their radio spell labs are on the very top of the mountain.”

I lean forward to the device and tentatively say, “Hello?”

The voices on the other end, broken as they are, continue without pause. I look about and find a hoof-size button next to the box providing the sound. I slowly click down and the noise ceases entirely.

“…Hello?”

Upon release of the button the crackle returns, but the voices have disappeared. A distorted but definitively female voice suddenly comes through.

“Hello?” Her inflections match my own.

I press the button again. “My name is Apple Bloom. Find Princess Twilight.”

Thunder booms as a clamor of voices occupy the speaking box. I look to Scootaloo and grin. She did it. A shuffle accompanied by excited voices brings my attention back to the little box.

“Apple Bloom?” Another mare excitedly asks.

“Twilight?” I ask “Is that you?” It’s mighty difficult to distinguish voices with this thing.

“Yes, Apple Bloom! I don’t know if you realize the implications of what you three just did, but this might be the final piece of the puzzle that we needed to - ”

“Twilight, y'all need to listen carefully.” I click the button and explain. “We’re at our second objective right now, but there's a road nearby. A huge enemy force is traveling down it. You need to tell Princess Luna!”

“– we’ll be able to level the playing field!” She finishes.

I look at to my friends, confused.

“Twilight?” I ask.

“Yes?”

“Did you hear any of what I just said?”

“No. You were talking?”

“You must not be able to talk at the same time.” Scootaloo mutters.

“Twilight, listen.” I release the button and when only static emanates press again. “Are you listening?”

“I’m here, Apple Bloom.”

I release a deep breath. This thing is pretty frustrating. “You need to keep your messages short." I continue, "When we talk, we can’t hear each other.”

In a muffled voice she speaks to another pony, and then replies her understanding.

“We’re at our second objective.” I repeat. “There's a road nearby with a lot of ponies on it. You need to warn Princess Luna.”

“You just have.” A deeper and far more authoritative voice observed.

I instinctively move to bow but realize the princess can’t see me doing so.

“We too have a large force arriving in Shimmering Valley as we speak. Your warning will give us valuable time to prepare for the ensuing battle. What did you see?”

“Dozens of tanks,” I answer, “and a lot of ponies.”

There’s a static-filled pause before the princess answers. “Understood. Well done, my Night Mares. You are to disregard your current assignment and immediately return to the Shimmering Valley. Upon arrival you will aid in its defense.”

“Yes, Princess.” I finish and release the button. There’s a flurry of activity on the other end.

“Be careful, you three.” Twilight finishes. The device goes silent, leaving the roar of the storm to fill our ears.

I smile at Scootaloo. She seems overjoyed at what just happened.

“If that doesn’t get you your–” I stop, looking to her flank. The old joke we used to tell one another as fillies dies on my lips. For, where just minutes ago featureless orange fur stood, is a small cutie mark that looks just like the speaker box I was just using. She follows my gaze and freezes.

A smile slowly stretches across her face. She looks back to me, almost in tears. She’s about to speak when Sweetie Belle shouts from the next room, “We have trouble!”

A muffled series of pops and cracks precede the radio erupting in a shower of sparks. Scootaloo and I duck to the floor as the walls are riddled with small holes from which dim, grey light pours in. The gunfire echoes away and with a shout I kick a hole in the wall, providing an impromptu window to the forest outside being drenched in the downpour. In the haze of the rain I see half a dozen ponies making their way across the meadow. I quickly bring the long-rifle to bear and put a round through the chest of the nearest aggressor. He falls with a cry and the rest collapse to the ground, lighting the building up once again.

Bullets hiss and crack by my head, driving my face to the wet floor. From up above I hear Sweetie return fire. “Move!” I shout to Scootaloo, waving to the door while our friend diverts their fire. She dashes out the door and I follow her into the heavy rain.

“Sweetie!” I shout, “We are leaving!”

After two more shots she rolls on her belly from the roof to land with a heavy *squelch* in the grass. From the tree line, Scootaloo begins to take shots.

“Let’s go!” I shout over a clap of thunder. More bullets hiss by and embed themselves in the trees with loud knocks. Sweetie and I take cover and aim. Three hostiles are left standing, but they’re wise – taking turns in keeping us pinned while comrades advance to the building for cover.

“I’ll go left. Keep them busy!” With that I run along the tree line, weaving between trees in a flanking maneuver. I begin to round the building and spot a stallion with his side pressed against the structure. He hasn’t seen me.

I swipe several clumps of soaked mane from my eyes and with an annoyed snort at the stubborn red strands undo my ponytail, using my old pink bow to instead keep my mane from my face. I bring the glass of the scope to my eye, aligning the crosshairs with the stallion’s head…

Wait. This can’t be right. That pegasus stallion isn’t a stallion at all – he doesn’t even look like he’s out of primary school, yet! I can see it – I can see the strain on his face as he struggles to even lift his weapon. He ducks behind the corner as Sweetie Belle sends a bullet his way and he looks down to the grass, utterly terrified. He looks up in my direction and stares right into my eyes. The detail that my scope provides is astounding – I can even see the tears streaming down his face beside the rain.

I can’t. I can’t shoot him. We need to help him, is what we need to do. I’m already lowering my gun when he grits his teeth and clenches his eyes in the effort to lift the weapon that will save his life.

No. No, no - he doesn’t understand! My body, however, is not at all interested in the rational – only staying alive. My finger instinctively yanks on the trigger. His face plunges into the mud as a foreleg is blown clean off in a puff of red mist.

He screams in pain with the ferocity of a timberwolf, writhing about as another pony lifelessly falls to the ground behind him. The gunfire ceases. He’s the only one left. Bleeding and alone. My vision blurs and I drop my rifle as his cries continue over the booming thunder. I grab my head with my forehooves and sink to my haunches.

End, end – just make it end! The rain, the thunder – his cries! I want to go home. I want to go home, I want to go home. I want to sit by the fireplace with Applejack, Big Mac and Granny, sipping hot soup while the storm rages outside. Safe and warm. 

Safe and warm.

Who were those ponies I shot earlier? Did they have a family? What have I taken from them? Were they even bad ponies? 

My breath quickens.

Am I?

Sweetie Belle crashes to my side. She lowers her weapon and shakes my shoulders, shouting as if into a pillow. 

What if I hadn’t shot him, though? I’d be dead. I look to Sweetie in a daze. If I were dead, then Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo would die, too. They’re my friends, and-

.
.
.

And I won’t let my friends be killed.

In an instant my muffled hearing is restored. The rain and thunder continue their onslaught, but so do the screams of my target. Sweetie hears him, too. She makes to put him out of his misery but I put a hoof on her shoulder. She pauses and lowers the gun. I shake my head and look into her eyes from under my brow.

There it is. I know exactly what she’s seeing right now, and it’s scaring her out of her mind. I grasp my long rifle from the grass and chamber a new round. I’m not crying anymore. I am going to keep my friends alive. What just happened was a weakness that we can’t afford. Weakness means everypony will die by my hoof. I align the crosshairs on the wheezing colt’s head.

Without hesitation I put him to rest.

I’m not a monster, though. I’m not. Monsters don’t feel. They don’t love.

I feel.

The long rifle slings on my shoulder.

I love.

My fingers click back into my hoof.

I live.
        	
 
                        

> III
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Night Mares


III.

July
Year 6 of the Harmonic Age

Even in the waning moonlight the Shimmering Valley lives up to its name, glittering beautifully under the soft white glow as if the stars themselves had fallen to the world. In fact, from my prone position at the forest’s edge, I can’t tell where the clear sky ends and the mountains begin. Inlaid within the rock are millions of microscopic gems that collectively give the entire valley and the large mining town in its center a gorgeous sheen. Legend has it that this is where Princess Platinum herself founded the short-lived nation of Unicornia.

Everything is completely still. There is no wind in the grass or a rustle of the trees. The roar of the enemy’s mobilization is long behind us, but they are on their way. They are still coming, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I quietly let out a breath and focus on the distant houses. There’s nothing I can do, so I won’t worry until I need to. Just moments ago Sweetie Belle used her magic to signal our forces in the town. They know they have a fight on their hooves and are ready to shoot anything in sight, so we need to keep our eyes open for a return signal that will only appear once among the twinkling.

My eyes snap to the left. A tiny, light blue sparkle flashes and is instantly lost to the stars. I remain still as a light breeze finally sends the forest into a light rush.

“Did you see it?” Sweetie softly asks from somewhere above.

“I caught it,” Scootaloo answers, “Apple Bloom?”

“Eeyup,” I answer. The grass under my belly rustles loudly as I rise to my hooves and my friends descend from their perch. We quickly make our way across a vast expanse of grass separating the town from the forest with crunching hoof steps. I look around at the great meadow and my belly is sent into a flutter in anticipation of what is to come.

Scootaloo gives an impressed whistle. “Take a look at that.”

I squint into the darkness to find a line of large wooden barricades encased in gleaming wire standing guard before the buildings. Affixed along the length of the curling cables are wicked barbs that prevent entry to anything unfortunate enough to be caught in their grasp without steel armor. I cock an eyebrow at the dozens of eyes peering through tight openings in the thick wood.

A section of wire parts in our approach and we trot through the line to come across a wide trench running just behind the barricades. The pit is easily deep enough to conceal me when standing on my hind legs and is currently home to the first of Equestria’s new military force. All of their nervous conversations quickly give way to the still night. They stare first to our faces and then to our hind legs in a mix of awe and disbelief.

Most are young stallions but a number of mares also wear metal helmets and clutch rifles identical to those of Sweetie and Scootaloo – sturdy wood reinforced with metal rings that give way to a long barrel. Not quite as long as my weapon but featuring the same “bolt-action” reloading mechanism, as Twilight had called it.

Affixed to the hole where the bullet-box goes is a piece of metal that must be yanked up and backward to eject the spent bullet casing and shoved forward and down to prime a new round. The invention fires projectiles at a rate just shy of that of a captured enemy gun, but it is certainly competitive. A magical enchantment prevents us from taking a look inside the enemy weapon, however, so we were unable to determine exactly how it works. Still, every Equestrian weapon has since been similarly enchanted until Twilight can crack it open.

I slow to a walk and look upon dozens of anxious faces. They stand atop wooden planks that prevent direct contact with the slippery earth, but hardly any color appears through the grime that has accompanied the arduous task of constructing these defenses. Sweetie, Scootaloo and I continue without a word into the town.

Those ponies in the trenches looked like they’d just seen a trio of ghosts walk into their midst. Had we already developed a reputation?

What are we to them? Are they terrified of us?

“Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo speaks in a normal tone, which in the silence is akin to a shout. “Are we going inside?”

With a start I look up to the door of a relatively large house that reads in simple white lettering ‘H.Q.’

“Sorry. Just thinkin’. About the ponies we just saw.”

“About what’s going to happen to them?”

Close enough. I nod and turn to face my friends.

Scoots first clenches her jaw in contemplation and then a corner of her mouth turns upward. “We can’t control that, Bloom – only what we can do ourselves. As long as we stay together then we’ll be OK, right?”

I do my best to put on a winning smile. “Yeah.”

She and Sweetie grin in unison. My expression becomes genuine as I savor her words and find real comfort in them. I turn about and proceed inside with one pair of hooves clopping against the wood as the metal pair strikes with metallic clacks. The central floor of the empty sweet shop is dominated by one large table atop which a great map depicting the western half of Equestria lies.
Several areas on the ocean’s edge are swathed in red. About seven black X’s are marked over red circles near the edge of the forest. The sites of our objectives are among them. The Night Mares have been busy. My ears twitch at a sound from under the table.

“This way, Night Mares,” a male voice orders. The table promptly lurches to reveal a hidden staircase.

I lead the way downstairs to a large, dark basement that serves as the true headquarters. Dim red lights illuminate wide walls that are covered in maps depicting the Equestrian Northwest in varying levels of detail and purpose. Along the length of one wall under the maps are desks where five ponies go about the business of filing and writing scrolls that will soon be on their way to Canterlot, other posts or Princess Cadance down south. A single guard stands at the base of the stairwell, unmoving in his post save for the quick tap of his hooves that signal our arrival.

A weathered, grey bat-pony of Her Majesty’s Lunar Guard turns about and widens his exhausted yellow eyes ever so slightly before letting his shoulders fall in a small sigh of relief. In an instant he snaps into a salute.

“Nightmare Two,” he barks in a low voice that barely betrays his years of service, “Commander Star Shade, senior officer of the Shimmering Valley operation.”

I quickly return the salute and try my best to appear as confident as possible. That pony – the commander – saluted us first. A sinking weight tugs at my belly. We certainly had developed a reputation. He mentions something else, but I don’t even hear it. I obey, however, and find myself standing before a map of the town and the forest to the west.

If this pony were to be killed, do we assume command? The weight in my belly doubles at the prospect, threatening to empty itself of dinner. Those ponies in the trenches probably expect us to lead them already, don’t they?

My vision goes hazy and I feel my breath quicken. This is unreal. All of it – just unreal.
They’ll look to me to guide them and tell them what to do.
They’ll look to me to keep them alive—

“Night Mare?” I jerk to reality and gaze into the gripping yellow slitted eyes of Commander Shade. “With all due respect, ma’am, ponies’ lives are on the line here. The sooner we get through this, the sooner you get some sorely needed sleep­.”

“I’m sorry—” my voice catches and I sniff. I bring a hoof to my cheek and it comes away wet. Was I crying? I glance to Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. They both look back with concerned expressions. Our attention is brought forward as the commander continues.

“The Tank Corps should be arriving within the hour. They will take defensive positions behind the line and support the infantry. We must do what we can to keep the enemy from overtaking that trench. If it falls, this fight will become decidedly more brutal. Nightmare Three and Nightmare Five will be in position at the northern and southern ends of the line, respectively. You three will support the middle ground.”

My focus shifts to an area circled in red among a vertical line of black X’s. Small boxes mark where the Equestrian armor will establish a firing line.

“You will use your ranged weapons to maximum efficiency, neutralizing targets of opportunity while maintaining a low profile. To the best of our knowledge the enemy does not yet know you exist and we intend to keep it that way.”

I nod in understanding, visibly quaking in my effort to keep my knees from buckling. The commander notices.

“Above all,” Commander Shade’s face shifts to that of a tired old stallion with eyes no longer able to focus. “Stay sound of both body and mind. Ponies will look up to you, and you will be an example. You are an extension of the might of the princesses.”
He looks to me with a chilling gaze.

“But you will know fear. You will know pain. Still, you will endure. Still, you will fight. Remember that the magic of friendship will always shine even under the darkest of ashes.”

I realize that Star Shade has probably lost many friends to this war, already.

“Understood, Commander.”


--


The first tanks arrived minutes after we resupplied at the armory, rumbling through cobblestone streets on treads similar to those on the tanks that we saw in the forest. Although not as large as the enemy’s tanks they are still as impressive as they are terrifying – expelling black smoke from snarling engines and sporting great guns that extend from box-like turrets. It is difficult to make out individual faces in the moonlight, but I get the feeling that the tankers sitting atop the machines are very nervous. Hardly a speck of dirt or mud can be seen on the dark grey paint. This is surely their first engagement.

“Let’s get to our spot,” Sweetie advises, “we need as much sleep as we can get.”

I nod and follow her into an alley. The roar of the tanks echo and can be heard throughout the town. At least we’ll know when the enemy is approaching. After a few minutes of trotting we enter a two-story house at the edge of town overlooking the meadow and the trench. The home still possesses much of its furniture due to the rapid evacuation of the townsfolk. Toys litter the ground where children were hurriedly scooped up and out of harm’s way while a trail of clothing and other belongings leads us upstairs to the master bedroom. From this point we have a clear view of the forest through large windows that allow the light of the setting moon to shine.

“I’ll grab some cover,” Scootaloo offers and heads into the hall, returning moments later on her hind legs and carrying a bed. She first opens the window to the cool night air and reinforces the space while Sweetie follows with a wardrobe and me with the dining table.

None of us speak in the task. When only a few slivers of white light are able to shine through breaks in the wood Scootaloo lets her vest and backpack fall to the ground in a heap. After a quick stretch of her small wings she sits on her haunches and promptly falls backward into the pack and begins snoring, just like her big sister. I chuckle and sit down myself, undoing the straps holding my own vest in place. I withdraw my gun as well as a large, rectangular sword provided by the armory. If the fight is taken to the streets there won’t be much room for long rifles.

I shudder and quickly curl into a tight ball to bring my tail around my muzzle. I hear Sweetie come to my side and lay down herself, one forehoof wrapped around my shoulder. Seconds later I make out Scootaloo shuffle to my left where she settles down with a quivering sigh.

“We still have each other,” she sniffs, “We’re still together?”

As I lose myself to the gloom, I hear Sweetie reply in that sing-song voice of hers, “We’re not going anywhere.”


--


The sweet smell of ripe apples and old wood fills my nostrils. My eyes gently flutter open amidst golden sun rays that dance through the swaying leaves. How I missed home. I rise on hooves devoid of metal or cloth and shut my eyes to a gentle breeze beckoning me to the right. I follow. My hooves rapidly rise and fall into soft grass. I’m still a filly, after all. I round the trunk of an apple tree to emerge into a clearing. Up ahead is a treehouse. Two fillies stand atop the balcony, waiting for something. Waiting for me.

I take one step after another but go nowhere. I can burst into a gallop but will not reach that treehouse. I scream and cry out, but the fillies – one orange and one white – do not notice me. Why don’t my friends notice me? A sudden burst of engine noise startles me into the ground. Dirt and grass fly about upon impact.

I look around to an Equestrian tank rolling away from me, raucously tearing the grass apart with its thick treads. Painted on the back of the turret are three little red apples.
Applejack.

I’m immediately on my hooves, but my hearing is muffled. On all sides yellow streaks of light hiss in their flight among the ruins of a small town. Craters litter the ground while fresh ones are pounded into existence with enormous plumes of dust and dirt. I take a step forward but a blast from behind sends my face into the mud. I bring my head up just in time to see Sugarcube Corner explode in a hail of debris and dust. Applejack’s tank is now trying to reverse under the deluge but takes a hit directly to the front.

“Applejack!” I shriek into the chaos. My throat is parched with the ashes of my home.

Bright orange flames flicker from the back of the tank and from the doomed machine several forms emerge, two on fire and wildly flailing in their descent to the ground. The black silhouette of my sister stands atop the turret. I know it’s her. She lifts a comrade to the open air, pushes him to the ground and makes to jump herself just as a large shard of yellow rips through one of her hind legs. Bits of flesh and blood fly along the path of the tank round as it sails onward. She tumbles to the ground.

“APPLEJACK!” I scream. I dig my metal fingers into the ash, baring my teeth in the effort to crawl forward. I lift my gaze to see the tank explode in a burst of flame and twisted metal.


--


I jerk awake with shallow and shaky breaths. I lie on my belly with fingers fully extended and stuck in the wood flooring. After a quick tug and six sharp cracks they return to my hoof. I quickly wipe my eyes and take deep breaths to recover from my burst of adrenaline. It’s still dark outside, but a deep blue glow hints at the approaching dawn. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo are not here with me. I sit up and reach for my long rifle.

Wait.

I freeze, ears flicking. For a minute I don’t move – only listening to the faint whine of distant engines. The slightest tremor can be felt in my haunches. I turn my head in the direction of the boarded-up windows. A rhythmic pounding on the stairs behind me precedes the return of Sweetie and Scootaloo. Both of my friends are wearing metal helmets and they quickly plant one on my head.
“This is it,” Scootaloo whispers. She plants one hoof on my shoulder and another on Sweetie’s.

We look at one another.

“Stay together,” Sweetie advises, “We’re going to be alright.”

I nod and forcibly gulp.

A shrill whistle sounds from the trenches just outside. To our left and right several more whistles cry out with increasing faintness down the line. I lick my lips and slightly part my jaw to breathe. My belly is weightless and my hooves don’t feel as if they’re my own. Sweetie, Scoots and I don’t move as the sky gradually lightens into a faint grey. The shaking in the ground intensifies, rattling our make-shift barricade as the enemy’s engines forego their quiet echo for a clear snarl.

I rise to my hind legs and peek through a crack in the furniture. A thick coat of fog has descended upon the valley, preventing us from even spotting the tree line. The ponies in the trenches are all wide awake and are bunched up at the edge, trying to see. By now the crackling engines are almost deafening, but we still can’t see the enemy. Within the space of a few moments the racket gives way to a tense silence. In the quiet I can just make out the idle purr of the Equestrian tanks.

Nopony speaks.

Hundreds of rifles pan left and right from the trench. Without taking my eye from my opening I poke the long rifle through and press my left eye to the lens. I chamber a bullet with a clack that, in the silence, booms like thunder.

“For Harmony,” I whisper.

“For the Princesses,” Sweetie adds.

“For Equestria.”

Silence envelopes us again. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, finally managing to reel my pounding heart into a manageable rhythm. I’m just starting to pan my crosshairs right when three faint sparks of yellow flash in the fog. Three loud booms fill the valley just before the roof disappears in a thunderous screech of wood, showering us with debris and dust and allowing the grey gloom of dawn to come pouring in. I crouch to the ground; eyes clenched shut amidst the plume of dust as the valley erupts in tank fire.

The very air seems to stand still as an Equestrian tank responds from just downstairs with an impossibly loud discharge. My gut lurches as the house rattles from the force of the blast. A low whir accompanies the round as it sails across the meadow and into the fog. The ponies in the trench recover from the initial shock and begin to blindly fire their weapons, further adding to the absolute chaos that has overtaken the valley. I shake the dust from my mane and look to Sweetie and Scootaloo. They seem to be alright, if only shaken. All of our ears are folded down under our helmets. I rise to my hind legs and bring the rifle to bear. Hundreds of bullets arc into the forest, but only the enemy tanks appear to be firing back.

The tank from below fires again, jolting me. The round lands to the right where its impact is marked by a faint flash of orange, igniting a bout of cheering from the ponies below.

“Get some!” is a common one.

We three don’t shoot. There is simply nothing to shoot at. For now it is up to the tanks to try and hit the flashes of yellow that send the massive shells our way. One of the enemy tanks strikes true, rendering a friendly motionless and spewing a shower of sparks. Nopony emerges from the wreckage.

Scootaloo hobbles over to Sweetie and me.

“What do we do?” she asks.

I grimace and withdraw the long rifle to crouch down. The tank just below us lets another round fly, kicking up a cloud of dust in the immediate area. I’m about to answer when half of the master bedroom is blown away by the enemy’s return volley. Had Scootaloo not moved she would have been carried away with it.

“We need to wait for the fog to clear!” I shout.

A moment later our defenses are suddenly put to the test, soaking up dozens of enemy bullets. We three collapse to the floor as rounds violently hiss and snap overhead, cracking through the wood and showering us with splinters. From below I can make out cries of pain as Equestrians are struck.

“Where is that coming from?” I shout. The meadow was devoid of enemy infantry, and they certainly weren’t firing from the woods a few seconds ago.

Scootaloo rolls to her belly, shuffles to the devastated wall and quickly glances around the corner. She yanks her head back as three rounds snap into the wall.

“The grass!” Scootaloo shouts, “They’re in the grass!”

Things don’t sound good outside. We’ve been taken by surprise – the tanks covered the enemy advance brilliantly.

“Let’s move,” I shout, “we’re relocating!”

My friends nod their understanding and wait for my go. After three heaves of my chest I scramble to my rear hooves and grasp the doorframe leading to the hallway, catapulting myself the whole way downstairs to crack the wood upon landing. As soon as Scootaloo lands I crouch low and step into the grey. Yellow streaks snap the air all around us, embedding themselves in the surrounding buildings amidst thick fog and a strong smell of gunpowder.

“Move fast – stay low!” I holler, leading the way around the house and away from the front line. At the corner I put a hoof to my head, signaling a halt. I take a peek, finding the tank that we’ve been hearing just ahead. ‘032’ is painted in white on the turret. Numerous yellow bursts of light flash from the grass in the meadow, pinning down the ponies in the trench as the enemy advances.
I pull back around and tell my friends what’s happening.

“That tank is vital,” Scootaloo points out, “we need to keep it in the fight no matter what.”

Sweetie and I agree.

“I’ll hang back there,” I gesture to a home across the street, “you two will fight in the trench?”

“Sounds like a plan!” Sweetie Belle shouts over another blast from the tank. The street is swept in a cloud of dust and blades of grass.

“Move!” I grunt in my leap from the corner and through the street, cobblestone chipping from the impact of my mechanical hooves. With a shout I kick the door clean off of its hinges, sending it clattering across the floor. Each breath comes out heavy as I pound upstairs, legs mechanically wheezing in the effort. After three flights I emerge to a small hallway. I quickly enter a room and find that much of the wall has been destroyed, giving me a clear view of the friendly tank and the meadow.

I spot Sweetie and Scootaloo putting their guns to use and bring my own to bear on the meadow. While the grass hides the enemy ponies from the trench I have a clear view. There are dozens, however, and they are rapidly approaching the line

The crosshairs align with the head of a pony tucked into the grass. I squeeze the trigger.

They align with another and I squeeze.

Two mares lay side by side, exchanging words. The sudden splatter of the first’s face on her own stuns the second. As she makes to scream I squeeze the trigger.

Another mare rises just as I fire. Her jaw and several teeth are carried into the grass by my bullet, sending her into a panic as she grasps at what’s left of her muzzle. Before I can chamber a new round she is promptly cut down by fellow ponies.

An entire wooden barricade bears the full force of an enemy tank shell, sending wood, razor wire and screaming ponies flying. I reach into my vest and reload as the powerful engines of the friendly tank roar to life. The enemy has risen as one and is charging the opening en masse, braving the Equestrian guns to take advantage of their slower rate of fire. I bare my teeth and sling the long rifle across my back, running to the hole in the wall and leaping to the rooftop of a home below.

I land with a thud and beat the thatched roof underhoof before next jumping into the trench itself, landing with a sickening *crunch* atop an enemy stallion. In a flash the large sword provided by the armory is in my left forehoof. With a shout I thrust it up into the chest of a mare, blood running freely down the blade as she screams in pain. She tumbles into the trench, writhing and clutching her chest as her lungs fail.

I grasp an Equestrian rifle in my right fore-hoof and prime it, bringing it to bear point blank at another mare emerging over the edge. I shut my eyes and shoot, wincing at a warm liquid that splatters across my face. I drop the gun and put the free hoof to my mouth, whistling sharply over the chaos. We’ve staved off the initial attack, but holding this area will be another matter entirely. Tank 032 has stopped in its tracks and now brings its gun to point at the opening in the line, providing support once again.

“We’re here!” Scootaloo huffs out, pushing past ponies in her bid to join my side. Sweetie is right behind her, forehooves red with blood.

“They’ve blown open a hole!” I shout under the force of 032’s volley.

My friends nod their understanding and take to the fight again. I look to the east and spot the sun rising over our backs. The fog will clear shortly, leaving the enemy with nowhere to hide.

“Keep it up,” I shout to the surrounding Equestrians, “we’re almost there!”

A few look to me and perform a double take upon seeing my hind legs.

“Don’t let up, y’all!” I grasp another gun from the hooves of a dead pony and rejoin the fight, “Pour it on!”


--


I pan around the meadow with my long rifle, finally ducking back down into the trench with a huff. I run a hoof through my mane and bow, sighing heavily. The relative silence is deeply unsettling. I’m still on edge – ready for action. I look down into the dirt and find the remains of the stallion that I had landed on earlier. His head is obscured by the mud. Good thing. I don’t think I want to see the results of what I heard and felt. That awful crunch of metal meeting bone…

I dry heave and tear my gaze away to look to the grey sky and white morning sun. I close my eyes and pretend not to hear the screams of the wounded and dying. Two pairs of hooves approach and I squint out of one eye. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle are absolutely filthy. I reckon I don’t look much better, though. Scoots holds her sword in one forehoof and drapes it across her shoulders while Sweetie holds one strap of her broken backpack in place.

I smile at them, despite myself. It starts as a chuckle, but soon I’m laughing aloud. I just can’t believe we made it through that. What we just saw - what we just did was unreal. This must be a dream!

It has to be.

My chuckles give way to quiet sobs. I look down to the cloth that surrounds my metal legs. It’s stained a deep red.

It’s not a dream.

Sweetie and Scootaloo approach and help settle me down onto four hooves.

“It’s alright, Apple Bloom,” Sweetie Belle coos, taking my weapon and laying it against the wall. “It’s alright. We’re still here. Sssh…”

When I finally calm down she releases me and smiles from behind the grime. Scootaloo gives the two of us a hug and shudders. “That was just the first wave,” she mutters, “they’ll be back. We’ll need to fight again…”

"Then we’ll fight again,” Sweetie replies, “we need to stay strong. The ponies around here talk about us. About how we fight. We really do inspire them.”

I raise my head. 

“Twilight trusts us to get the job done out here,” she continues, “If we couldn’t do it she wouldn’t have let us try.”

Scootaloo looks away in contemplation. I flick my ears to the idle chatter coming from up and down the trench. Most ponies are in shock.

Many are crying.

Some are just trying to make sense of what occurred here.

Still others talk about the Night Mares.

The yellow one with the red mane crushed a stallion under her hooves, they say.

She’s an Apple. I think from Ponyville.

Her aim is always precise.

I saw her up in the balcony.

The white one crushed a windpipe with her bare hooves.

I saw the pegasus send a pony clear out of the trench with one kick

They don’t back down or let up.

We need to be like them.

I want to fight like a Night Mare.
> IV
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Night Mares


IV.

August
Year 6 of the Harmonic Age


CLANG

A hollow brass shell falls to the ground. The metallic sound reminds me of the old school bell back home…

CLANG

I slowly raise my head up from my backpack, squinting at the golden rays of Celestia’s late morning sun filtering through cracks in the ceiling. There will be no more rest as the crew of tank 032 empties their collection of spent cartridges below my perch in a bell tower. I let out a deep sigh and rise to a sitting position before drinking from my canteen. 

CLANG

I turn to one of four thick, stone pillars supporting the roof and use a metal finger to score a thin line diagonally across four vertical notches. My ears swivel and flick at the sound of distant pops and cracks somewhere to the north.

CLANG

I lean back and quickly make a ponytail of my red mane, fixing it in place with my old pink bow. Tiny holes and tears riddle the dirty strip of cloth, but it continues to hold fast. I crack a smile and retrieve a bag of oats from my pack as the clatter of spent shells rattles on like clockwork. Glowing dust motes dance about the empty space in which the bell used to reside - before it was hit by a stray tank shell, that is. I reckon the great bell’s final peal could be heard all the way in Canterlot.

Following that particular assault the northern flank finally buckled, pushing the Equestrians and Nightmare Three back quite a ways. Old Star Shade didn’t like that one bit, though. In a flash he rounded everypony up and established another defensive line in true commander fashion. Sweetie, Scootaloo and I set up shop in this here bell tower and have remained for what’s now been five days, which would mean six have passed since the first encounter. 

My breath catches and I swallow hard. It’s only been six days, and I’ve…

My gaze shifts to a sword leaning upright in a corner. Seven white scratches are etched into the dark metal. I glance down to my long rifle where eleven little slashes have been carved next to the trigger. I force myself to look away and quickly stuff my mouth with tasteless oats.

Only a few seconds, that time. Not even a single sob, either.

I’m getting better.

I crunch along and look up into the sun’s rays, letting my thoughts turn to home.


--


An empty shell casing falls with a light cling as a new round is chambered.

Only one more notch has been added to my weapon by the time 032 finally rids itself of all its spent shells. As the days have passed the frequency of enemy sightings has fallen, but even so we are to remain in this tower and maintain a bird’s eye view should the current stalemate become another push. Every so often a small series of snaps will echo through the streets, but from what I can tell the enemy’s advance has been restricted to the northern reaches of the town while the southern and middle sectors have become deathly quiet. 

I rise from my belly and thoroughly stretch, sighing at the sound of several satisfying pops coming from my spine. I rub my eyes and peer through wooden planks nailed between the stone support pillars. Sweetie and Scootaloo are both assisting the crew of 032 reload under the amber glow of an early sunset behind distant towering mountains. Dark blue clouds loom far out east above the peaks, flashes of white light flickering from their depths. 

My ears swivel toward to the sound of laughter from below. The five ponies that maintain 032 are introducing themselves. I sink back to a prone position and rest my cheek on the rifle’s stock, shifting to get as comfortable as possible. I resume a slow pan to the left and then back to the right, watching for any movement amidst the maze of town homes and cottages. I idly listen to the talk below. 

Somepony is from Baltimare.

Three from Canterlot. 

Tank 031’s crew is entirely comprised of Canterlot citizens. Some names are given.

Sweetie Belle suddenly squeaks in surprise. I chuckle. She still does that when she gets all excited…

Sweetie mentions we went to school with her. 

Wait – her who?

“She was among the Princess’s finest jewelers before the draft, crafting some of the most exquisite tiaras in Equestria.”

…Oh. That her. 

I grimace slightly. 

It’s been years since we’ve seen mane or tail of Diamond Tiara, and I’d be right comfortable with enjoying many more. I don’t care what nopony says – she deserved it.  It was well established that Scootaloo wasn’t going to fly like most pegasi, and there ain’t no shame in that. As a matter of fact, she can soar with the best of them for a short while and hover with ease nowadays. That wasn’t enough for D.T., though.

My heart beats a little faster.

She never really apologized, neither…

I shut my eyes, take deep breaths and flex my fingers in and out of my hooves.

“Easy, now,” I whisper, “easy.”

Can’t get all worked up, now. Even if she did go too far at the Summer Harvest Parade. Scootaloo is telling the story now. 

Huh. I reckon she’s come to terms, or something. Good for her, because I know I haven’t.

Diamond Tiara had tricked all three of us that day with a false act of kindness. We were beyond all that ‘blank flank’ business and such. Not really friends or nothing, but we didn’t fight much anymore. It had been more than a month since she’d got on us, so we figure she’s finally becoming decent. Or bored. I wouldn’t care, either way. 

She gets this great big float that can fit the whole class and decorates it like a circus, with all of us young ‘uns playing the clowns. She’s in the act, too, so we three crusaders figure we’re in the clear. Turns out only two of us were.

Just as we’re about to go on she whispers something to Scoots that gets her all rattled. To this day she won’t tell us what it was, but we managed to calm her down some as the curtains pulled up. It hardly mattered. The whole time Tiara’s nailing Scootaloo with pies, confetti launchers and even Pinkie Pie’s party cannon on one occasion. Before long those two are the stars of the show.

Everypony’s having a grand old time, seeing as we’re clowns and such, but not Scoots. She’s after Diamond now but can’t catch her for nothing. The pink filly gracefully crosses a tightrope off of which Scootaloo quickly tumbles in her pursuit. Everypony’s in a riot by this time, but Scootaloo is steaming mad. She buzzes her wings up and tries to fly but quickly splashes into all the pie debris. Sweetie and I make to pull her away but she gallops up to the tight rope again, leaping with all her might and buzzing her wings like a hummingbird to try and make the rest of the gap. I’d never seen her try to fly so hard but it didn’t matter. She hit the floor. Hard.

I’ll never forget her face – covered in bright confetti and makeup with two clear lines of orange running from utterly helpless violet eyes down her cheeks. Every pony save two was laughing at her, and she took it to heart. The float rounded the corner and we could only run away with an utterly devastated Scootaloo on our backs. Every sob came out as a scream that day.

We eventually managed to elicit a not-apology with the help of our sisters, but as per usual we were left highly unsatisfied. Scoots got real quiet after that. Not us, not her parents– not even Rainbow Dash could get her to talk much. I reckon we should have tried harder. She desperately needed to talk to somepony, but even though we were there she never did. I’d like to think that I would have tried to stop her had she told me what she was going to do next, but to be honest I’m not entirely sure...

One more remark was all it took. Diamond just couldn't bring herself to avoid making one final jab. 

Scootaloo was on her in an instant, utterly pounding her head into the grass with each ferocious swing of her forehooves. All anypony could do was watch.

I'd never seen that much blood before. Everypony was terrified. 

Miss Cheerilee dashed in as fast as she could, wrestling Scoots back and suffering a wild punch to the cheek for her efforts. That's when everypony broke and began to panic. Scootaloo never once paid her no mind and just roared at Diamond's motionless form, fighting with all her might to continue her onslaught. Miss Cheerilee frantically shouted for somepony to ring the bell. Nurse Redheart was first on the scene with a host of concerned parents galloping close behind - chief among them being Filthy Rich. Even with healing potions his daughter spent three days in that hospital...

Two knocks from below the floorboards resound prior to the door swinging up. 

“Hey, Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo grunts as she hoists herself onto the deck. “Just one today?”

“Yeah.” I mutter without taking my eye from the glass. It’s getting hard to see as the encroaching night smothers the town in black, “Just the one. Not a single other pony.”

“Do you think that means something?” she asks while fishing in her pack for something. Probably oats. Always oats.
I slightly shake my head and bring the long rifle inside. “I hope not,” I say as I lean it upright against a stone pillar and smile, “but something’s gotta happen soon – I’m getting a mite bored.”

She frowns at that, gives a little hum as if in deep thought and then proceeds to crunch on her ration. I position myself across from her and retrieve my own dull oat dinner.

“I meant that as a joke, Scoots.”

Her eyes go to the bag in her hoof.

“How do ya feel?” I ask.

She sets the bag aside and grasps her canteen. “I’m doing okay,” she shrugs, “What about you?”

I pause for a second. Nothing particularly profound comes to mind so I plainly reply, “I’m okay, too.”

“That’s good,” she observes. She takes a quick drink, “But is that okay?” 

A few silent seconds are spent in the dim light of a waning moon shining through the planking.

“We’re getting numb to it, Apple Bloom.”

I nod. “I didn’t cry this morning.”

“Me neither – or yesterday.”

“And you’re okay?”

She nods, “Yeah. You too?”    

I give an affirming hum and sip from my canteen.

“So what are those ponies downstairs like?” I ask, changing the subject.

She perks up some. “Pretty awesome, considering half of them come from Canterlot. They let me and Sweetie take a look inside the tank. It’s really cramped – makes a pegasus like me nervous – but it seems really tough.”

“I heard Sweetie Belle squeak earlier.” I smile.

Scootaloo laughs, “You’re not going to believe this, but Diamond Tiara got drafted into the tank corps. She’s actually here, in the Valley!” She snickers, “Can you imagine her in a tank? Or even within a hundred miles of one?”

I genuinely chuckle at the thought of that prissy pink pony inside of tank 031. I wonder if she’s still alive. What would she think of us now?

“Say,” I ask as we settle down, “where’s Sweetie?”

Scootaloo gives a muffled sound through a mouthful of oats. She takes a gulp from her canteen and answers, “she went to find an officer. See what’s going on up north.”

As if on cue hoofsteps can be heard from below. They’re rapid in rhythm, but as they ascend the stairs I can clearly make out two hoof clops and two metallic clacks in each cycle.

“Hey, Sweetie,” I greet the white mare as she hoists herself to the deck.
Scootaloo tosses a bag of oats into her lap, but they go unnoticed. In the faint glow of the moon I can see a gleam in her light green eyes. 

“It’s happening!” She says excitedly, “in two days!”

“What?” Scootaloo asks.

“Both sides.” She holds up a hoof.“At least, we think they’re going to try something. It doesn’t matter – the commander’s had it with those ponies. He wants them gone.”    

“What do we do?” I ask.

“For now we stay put. When it happens we’ll move with the tank up north, keeping it safe just like always. Nightmare Five’s only a few blocks away and will be doing the same thing.”

“When do we move?” I follow up. 

At this she shrugs. “The pony I talked to just told me to ‘be ready and wait for the signal.’ I guess we’ll know it when we see it?”

Scootaloo nods and leans back, sighing heavily with lidded eyes. She begins to rhythmically extend and retract her fingers with each breath.

Sweetie watches her for a moment. “So—” She turns to me. “—how are you two doing?”

Scootaloo shoots me a sidelong glance and in unison we answer, “Okay.”

As we quietly laugh Sweetie smirks and looks to me expectantly.

“We’re doing alright, Sweetie – don’t you worry any,” I reassure my friend, “We know what we have to do and will do our best to get ‘er done.”

“Isn’t that what keeps you going, too?” Scoots pipes up.

Sweetie shrugs and begins to quietly munch on her oats. Even out here she takes small bites, all polite-like.

“Sort of,” she admits, “But for the most part I just don’t think about most of it. I know that I’m doing the right thing, as horrific as it is.”

As she takes another bite I comment on something that’s been eating at me for a little while.

“So,” I tentatively mutter, “you haven’t cried?”

She stops, turns to look right through my eyes and I have my answer. 

She hides the gaze well. That awful, empty look of exhaustion that sticks around no matter how much sleep we try to get. A feeling of fullness warms in my chest, however. For a minute there I wondered if Scootaloo and I were just – I don’t know – weak or something?

But she has it, too. She’s felt it.

“Trust me – I’ve cried plenty, Apple Bloom.” She turns back to her oats, “But I know that I’m doing the right thing and that’s what keeps me going."

I silently nod in understanding. 

Doing the right thing. Protecting the ponies you love. Kill or be killed. In a way all three of us have the same idea, I reckon.

“Get some rest, girls. I’ll take the first watch,” Sweetie says as she returns the oats to her pack and brings forth a pair of large binoculars.

“Okay,” I settle my head into my pack. “I hear our old friend Diamond Tiara’s in town.”

Sweetie snorts. “She’s up north, apparently. Tank 031’s still in the fight. Maybe we’ll see her soon.”

“Maybe,” I agree. I shuffle to lie on my side and shut my eyes.

The feeling of fullness wraps around me like a warm blanket, lulling me to sleep far more quickly than I ought to with the threat of an assault on the horizon. The Cutie Mark Crusaders are all in the same boat now and we’re doing the right thing. No matter what happens we can draw strength from that one simple truth.


--


A tense silence has taken hold of the Shimmering Valley. Not since the day before last has a single shot echoed through the streets. Now that I think about it, it was probably me who took the last one.

Nightmare Two remains in the bell tower under a glaring noonday sun. I scratch a notch in the pillar. Day Eight.

There are many small, grey clouds slugging along the bright sky that cast dark shadows upon the town. The beams of the sun mesmerizingly dance about the frozen buildings as if the blue of the sky were actually the surface of a great ocean. The winds up there must be mighty powerful to be shifting the clouds so quickly without the aid of pegasi. Perhaps so powerful that pegasi are discouraged from flying very high at all? It would explain the absence of any aerial attacks this whole while from either side.

I take slow and quiet breaths as a sweeping breeze causes a faint, low howl to envelop the town, as if it were anxiously sighing as well. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo peer out at the landscape behind me, fully loaded and ready to go. From the street below I can just make out the idle purr of tank 032’s engines. A low roll of thunder suddenly booms from behind the southern mountains.

That’s wrong. I turn around. Scoots and Sweetie look to me. I frown and hobble past them to face south and peer through cracks in the wood paneling.

Another bout of thunder cackles across the sky far closer than the first.

That’s not right at all. 

My friends join me.

“We should have heard that storm long before now,” I explain.

From the high peaks of the southern mountain range a dark blot of angry storm clouds builds, all but pulsing with multi-colored lightning.

Reds violently flash alongside deep purples and striking blues.

Green.

Yellow. 

Rainbow.

“Let’s go,” I order, chambering a round in my rifle and slinging it across my back. 

On all fours I turn from the planking and descend into the gloom of the bell tower’s staircase to peals of thunder so powerful they buffet the air and set dust loose.

I gasp and my hooves begin to tremble when I finally clamber out out into the bright sunlight. The storm clouds are obscured by the townhouses but the thunder shakes the ground. Tank 032 rumbles to life and a cloud of black smoke belches from the exhaust pipes. In less than a minute the serene silence has been shattered by a cacophony of thunder and machine. All throughout the town the Equestrian Tank Corps fires up, the closest units being just a few blocks to our left, west.

We step up to 032’s side and a hatch in the side of the turret swings open to reveal a blue unicorn mare with a violet mane. She’s smiling underneath a metal helmet with a hole cut for her horn.

“Be sure to watch our sides.” she shouts, “We’re sending them all packing! Pour it on, Night Mares!”

She whoops as the tank’s engines loudly roar and propel the metal monster forward. She leans out from the opening to clutch the sides of her small window. A stallion appears on the other side of the turret and another mare with a large, pointed commander’s hat rises from the top hatch. The ground is now ceaselessly pulsing as the thunderous clouds come into sight.

Sweetie and I gallop to keep up with the tank while Scootaloo hops up to ride just behind the turret, alternately watching the sky and the road ahead.

“There they go!” Scootaloo points a hoof to the sky and excitedly hollers, “We have Wonderbolts!”

I glance up at dozens of black cloud trails descending from the large mass. They soar overhead and disappear behind rooftops as distant tanks begin exchanging fire. The crew of 032 cheers and knocks hooves with one another before disappearing inside. The blue mare exchanges a bump with Scootaloo and then battens the hatches.

“Focus ahead!” Sweetie shouts.

About a quarter of a mile away our route north ends at a row of buildings and splits in two – east and westbound – and from the west a long, metal tube is rounding the corner.

Scootaloo knocks on the tank’s turret and quickly hops off the side just before it engages the brakes. The enemy tank has by now rounded the corner and a flash of yellow precedes a great BANG that resonates through the road, and somewhere to our rear the ground explodes and showers us with tiny bits of debris. With an earsplitting crash 032’s gun responds, penetrating the enemy tank and sending a bright plume of magical blue flame skyward from the turret.

The commander rises from her hatch and screams, “Burn, you mules! Burn!”

The tank once again grunts forward and we soon come to the fiery wreckage. I grimace at the charred smell. Just a short distance west is another northbound road.

“You two watch the right side. I’ll take a look,” I shout over the gunfire and thunder.

032 waits patiently as I trot to the corner and peek around the stone. The street appears to be clear. I turn and wave to the tank which promptly accelerates around the burning husk of metal and into the road. My friends quickly follow and we move together at the side of the machine. The raging black clouds move to obscure the sun, plunging us into an eerie orange twilight.

“Ponies – straight ahead!” Scootaloo suddenly shouts.

Rifles terrifyingly fire from down the road and rounds *snap* just over our heads. Ducking down low, I gallop behind the tank which absorbs the incoming barrage with numerous pings. Scootaloo and Sweetie have taken cover across the road in between two homes. The tank’s massive gun sends a shell downrange, but a quick look tells me that it won’t be enough. There must be a dozen enemy ponies in the street, all spread apart and advancing quickly. 

Too quickly for 032 to handle.

The metal pads in my hind legs clamp down into the cobblestone and I rise to full height, unslinging the long rifle and leaning out with the scope to my eye. I squeeze the trigger and my mark’s head jerks before he slumps to the ground. Two more ponies fall to the efforts of Scootaloo and Sweetie. The tank fires once more and an enemy pony simply vanishes in a hail of fragmentation that clouds the street in a wall of dust.

The enemy continues to lay down fire, muzzle flashes sparking faintly behind the cloud. Yellow streaks are now clearly visible in the gloom. When the dust finally settles I find that the size of the enemy force has at least doubled, and they are galloping toward us. My gut feels weightless and I look to my friends.

“Drop them!” I shout and quickly do my part, sending a pony sliding across the ground after their chest is struck. My left hoof runs purely on instinct, chambering rounds the moment I fire without me even thinking about it.

Four.

Five.

The tank fires again but only succeeds in hitting a nearby building, sending it collapsing to the ground and barring the road with debris. An enormous cloud of dust floods through the street, effectively restricting all visibility.

“Oh, horse apples!” I clamber up the tank and bang on the turret as bullets continue to strike the hull.

The left hatch opens and the commander leans from the side with a smug look on her face despite bullets impacting the door only inches from her face

“What in tarnation do y’all think yer doing?” I scream, “We won’t see them until they’re right on us!”

“Exactly,” she shouts back with a devilish grin, “Get your friends up here – quick!”

“What?” I protest, “But—“

“Now, Night Mare!”

I give an exasperated sigh and put a hoof to my mouth, giving a high whistle over the gunfire. Sweetie and Scootaloo dart across the road and hop up to the tank, hunkering behind the turret.

From inside the commander shouts, “Hold on tight, ladies!”

The machine suddenly accelerates, violently shaking under our hooves. It fires once more before plunging into the smoke with little regard for what or who is in its way. I put a hoof to my mouth and clench my eyes to the dust, clinging desperately to a small hoofrail as the tank bounds through the debris of the structure it obliterated and probably several unlucky ponies.

We clear the dust cloud and hang a sharp right into the nearest eastbound street, treads clattering over the cobblestone. Just ahead is a left turn that will take us on the correct course.

“Are they crazy?” Sweetie shouts over the snarling engines.

“Maybe just a little!” I answer.

The tank commander, a dark green pegasus with a spiky brown mane, rises from the top hatch once again, “Begging your pardon, Night Mares, but we’re under direct orders to get you to the front as soon as possible. You can question our methods but you certainly cannot question our results!”

She puffs her chest and ducks back inside just before the tank turns left and resumes its northward route. The battle is now clearly heard – when this road ends the front begins. We quickly speed past multitudes of dead ponies wearing both Equestrian and enemy uniforms as well as blackened tank husks.

Looking up I can see distant Wonderbolts speeding through the sky in aerial duels with hostile pegasi. Streams of rainbow-colored light flash from the dark blue forms of Equestria’s air force while the enemy retaliates with bursts of yellow rifle fire. Bullet casings occasionally rain down from above with a clatter of hollow clings under a dark sky set alight by multi-colored lightning. The sun occasionally shines through pockets opened and shut by the powerful winds of the Equestrian North West.

Individual rifle discharges can be heard, now. The surrounding buildings progressively bear more scarring and, looking ahead, I find that few — if any — are left standing at all. The tank slows and the commander appears, “OK, this is your stop!”

My friends and I quickly dismount and she waves as the tank speeds off.

I sling my rifle across my back, drop to four hooves and breathe through my nose to try and calm myself. “Look sharp and stay together,” I shout, “We’re going to be alright!”

My friends nod and bounce lightly on their hooves, seemingly eager to get them dirty again.

“Let’s go!”

I turn and gallop to the front where a line of ponies are positioned amongst the rubble of toppled structures. My rear hooves heavily clack against the cobblestone and my breathing comes out in sharp gasps. A trio of low-flying Wonderbolts blur just over our heads without a sound. Just as I make to think how strange that is, the air is suddenly buffeted by a strong rush of wind and a high-pitched whistling. Dust is sent into a flurry along their path, making my eyes water.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo cheers from behind, “that’s what I’m talking about!”

I smile and continue to pound one leg after another into the pavement. My vest bounces on my back with every shaky breath I take. By now the enemy gunfire can be heard from the north, well beyond an expanse of grass separating the town from the forest. All that seems to exist is my breathing, the gunfire and the toppled buildings that I can never seem to reach. 

I look to the sky and see a Wonderbolt lose control in the higher reaches of the cloud mass. There are no enemies with him but he is rather assaulted by an unseen force that tosses him every which way before finally releasing its hold. He plunges lifelessly into the forest beyond. I taste bile in the back of my throat.

I turn my attention back to the front and nearly gallop straight into the rubble. I hastily slide on all fours to a stop and let out a large gasp of air.

How long was I watching that pony fall? 

I shake my head and rise to my hind legs, unslinging my rifle and clambering up the hill of rubble to hunker behind a sturdy looking wall. 

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper to myself  and heavily gulp, “He’s gone.”

A few excited murmurs arise from around us.

“Hey!” Scootaloo shouts, “Knock it off and keep your heads low – where’s the C.O?”

Ponies call out down the line for the ‘L.T.’ A small grey mare leans backward. Upon seeing who called out she hurriedly slides down the mound of debris and gallops up to us. Atop her black mane is a green helmet with the words ‘Shake and Bake’ haphazardly written into the canvas.

She gives a salute, “Lieutenant Shakes, ma’am.”

Scootaloo puts a hoof to her head to return the salute, “How are we looking?”

The earth pony with three muffins for a cutie mark smiles under her helmet. “They weren’t prepared for the ‘Bolts, that’s for sure,” she answers with a distinct Manehatten accent, “Pushed ‘em back in no time. We’ve been holding here with orders not to pursue. Can’t see nothin’ in the trees, though.”

A few rifles shoot from the forest. The whole line suddenly springs to life and sends a torrent of retaliatory fire, seemingly indiscriminate as to where their rounds land. Somewhere to the east a tank fires and the shell lands with a distant boom. The Equestrians settle down and duck back behind their cover.

“We just keep them suppressed when they try any funny business. You ought to make yourselves comfy – this will be going on for a little while.”


--


“You know what I think?” My finger squeezes the trigger and a flurry of dust is kicked up around the long rifle’s muzzle as it gives an ear-ringing crack. A pony just too exposed behind his tree violently spins around with a delicate line of dark blood spiraling from the entry wound in his head. I scratch a diagonal line into the cool metal of my gun and turn back around my wall.

“I think this here forest could benefit greatly from the planting of a few apple trees.”

Scootaloo and Sweetie both snicker.

“Rarity would say it could benefit from a “dab of color,” Sweetie says in her best imitation of her sister.

“I think it could benefit even more if those ponies would take a hint,” Scootaloo adds.

Another series of snaps come from the forest.

“Really?” She leans over from her side of the wall and joins the storm of retaliation, “You haysuckers!” she screams. As if on cue a tank fires into the forest and the gunfire ebbs away.

Scootaloo sits down with a huff and inserts a fresh magazine into her weapon. “This is ridiculous,” she mutters, “The enemy’s long gone! They knew they couldn’t handle the ‘Bolts and ran hours ago – I just know it.”

The Wonderbolts’ dark storm cloud has all but dissipated by now to give way to brilliant afternoon sunshine interrupted by the occasional drifting cloud. A strong breeze sweeps through the meadow and forest beyond, rustling the manes and tails of still bodies lying in the grass. This wind is noticeably chillier than breezes prior, though.  I rub my forehooves together. Scootaloo doesn’t seem to notice.

“Until the scouts come back it’s all about Equestrian suppression!” Scoots says loudly.

Ponies carry the phrase down the line until it grows faint. It’s become a little game, now.

“‘Questrian suppression,” I mutter. I drum my fingers across my gun and grunt while rolling onto my belly, bringing the rifle to bear on the dark forest. 

Wonderbolts zoom about above the treetops, looking out for any stragglers whilst advance scouts fly way out to confirm the enemy’s retreat. Five yellow flashes of light come from the forest just before five shots echo through the valley.

“Gah,” Scootaloo shouts in exasperation and hollers from atop her hind legs, “Get some!”


--


I scratch a twenty sixth notch into my rifle. Dusk has befallen the valley, casting us all in a beautiful, blue gloom. The enemy has not made an attack for several hours. Birds have returned to their nests and occasionally sing out, even. Many ponies have taken this to mean that the enemy has truly retreated and relax with one another in the twilight, including Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle. I continue to sit atop the rubble and cradle my rifle, marking the lives that I took earlier today with 032. 

Twenty six is the current total.

I turn my head to a sudden commotion coming from the east. I rise to a sitting position and hold my rifle at the ready. The sound isn’t one of fear or battle, however. Instead, it’s one of joy. As if the words are a carried on a wave the words “victory” and “princess” flow past me. The latter is of great intrigue. All around me, ponies cheer and revel in their success at holding the line. I spot Lieutenant Shakes galloping through the rejoicing masses toward me. I sling the rifle and slide down the debris to meet her.

“All Nightmare squads are to report to H.Q. immediately,” she quickly says. After a salute she continues down the line.
Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo approach and I relay the message.

"There are rumors that a princess is here,” Sweetie says in a low voice.

I nod and lead the way through the jubilant crowd.


--


“It seems like a long time ago – the last time we were here,” Scootaloo observes.

My friends and I stand before the headquarters again with the sounds of celebration at our backs. Two large stallions stand motionless at either side of the door, this time. One is a white pegasus and the other is a bat pony with yellow eyes that nearly glow in the dwindling daylight. The emblems of Their Majesty’s Lunar and Solar Guard gleam atop respective breastplates.

As we approach their wings flare out to bar the entrance. “Halt,” the pegasus commands.

“Who goes there?” finishes the bat pony.

“Nightmare Two,” Sweetie Belle answers simply.

In the blink of an eye their wings snap back to their sides and we are allowed entry. I gently nose the door ajar and find the room to be filled with ponies. Under the yellow glow of a lantern a large map of the town and much of the forest beyond is spread atop the large table housing the trap door to the basement. A dozen other mares stand before the map. All have hind legs concealed from the knee down by a strip of cloth. Poking out from underneath the cloth are four metal pads and in either forehoof four little black bits of metal gleam. 

Just like us.

The dark blue form of Princess Luna stands imposingly on the other side of the table, clad in gleaming armor. She is flanked by Princess Twilight Sparkle and Commander Star Shade. At his side is a yellow pegasus with a fiery orange mane. She wears a dark blue suit and a vest fitted with a multitude of pouches very similar to our own. A bolt of dark yellow lightning rings every hoof above worn boots. She’s seen some serious action, judging from the dust and grime in her combat suit. No doubt she, Spitfire herself, just participated in today’s assault.

Twilight looks up first, seemingly relieved to see us in one piece. The commander, the Wonderbolt and Princess Luna follow the motion albeit without the familiarity Twilight shares with her friends. I look around at the other Nightmare squads. This is the first time I’ve seen even another one, let alone all. My eyes finally settle on a familiar green and white mane. The mint-green pony’s golden eyes glance up and hold my gaze.

Very familiar…

She gives a smirk and the tiniest nod. 

I grin. 

That surely is Heartstrings.

Commander Shade looks utterly exhausted but maintains his composure as he speaks, “Nightmare Two,” he says aloud and looks up to Luna, “All present and accounted for, Princess.”

“Very well,” she acknowledges and slightly tilts her head at us. Does she remember visiting our dreams those years ago? “Proceed, commander.”

“The defense of the Shimmering Valley has come to a close,” he explains, “We suffered a number of casualties but none catastrophic. The Union quickly withdrew its main contingent of armored fighting vehicles earlier this afternoon in the face of overwhelming aerial superiority. The Wonderbolt display was highly demoralizing and very effective, incurring only minor losses.”

The princesses study the map for a moment.

"What of the enemy’s communication ability?” Twilight interjects.

"Her Majesty’s Night Mare squads proved to be highly effective in the performance of specialized infiltration operations. The Union’s ability to utilize their network has been upset for the time being in the area immediately west of the town. Operations were halted in the face of attempted invasion.”

Luna narrows her eyes at the map.

"And what is thy recommended course of action, Commander?” She asks.

“The enemy has certainly discovered the crippled arrays, indicating we know of their advantage. Remaining sites will be heavily fortified and movement into the forest will prove hazardous,” he puts a grey hoof to the table. “Operation Starlight will not be possible until the remaining arrays have been destroyed, however. By your word the operation will be suspended or Night Mare incursions will recommence post-haste such that the union is denied time to appropriate maximum defensive assets.”

Luna slightly bares her teeth.

“There will be no suspension.” She answers with disdain. “This union would dare attack our fair nation without even a formal declaration of war. They would needlessly shed my little ponies' blood without warning."

Her armor clicks as she stamps her hoof heavily against the wood floor. "They will receive no recess.”

She looks up from the map and sweeps her gaze over us, “You have done well, my Night Mares, but your work is not done. You will receive orders by week’s end. Dismissed.”


--


With a great fwoom a massive spiral of mystic blue flame shoots into the night sky, casting the entirety of the Shimmering Valley’s defenders in a ghostly light. We are assembled in the western meadow to pay respect to the fallen being consumed in a scentless and silent pyre. The flag of Equestria, bearing the united royal sisters as well as the cutie marks of Princesses Cadence and Twilight Sparkle, waves untouched by the flame in the middle of the pyre.

Princess Luna and Twilight back away from the flames they ignited and stand proud before the dead being carried on into the Nether. The valley becomes deathly quiet as all eyes focus intently on the dancing flames. Glowing blue ashes find their way into the night sky, seemingly joining the innumerable amount of stars already there. I catch some in my hoof and watch the blue glow slowly fade away.

Princess Twilight turns about and, although speaking in a relatively low voice, is clearly heard by all of her subjects, “These ponies fell in defense of their homes and their families. In defense of nation and livelihood. They gave their lives to defend all of you.”

She sniffs, “Nopony should have to go through this – but I and the rest of Equestria offer our sincerest gratitude. Should you fall – fall knowing that you will be remembered as heroes.”

Everypony returns their somber gaze to the flames. Princess Luna next turns about and sweeps her gaze over the army with narrowed eyes. She finally unfurls her great wings and in one flourish soars to the flame’s peak.

"HEAR ME,” she bellows in her hover, startling everypony. Even Twilight backpedals a few steps.

“YE ENEMIES OF EQUESTRIA! WE SHALL NOT FALTER NOR YIELD! THOU SHALT KNOW TERROR AND VENGEANCE WILL BE OURS!”

Everypony looks up to the princess with infallible determination, hanging on her every word, “DESPAIR, FOR WE ARE COMING WITHOUT FEAR! WITHOUT REMORSE!"

Shouts are incurred from the roused congregation. Most are on their hooves, now.

"DESPAIR, FOR OUR WRATH COMES FORTH FROM THE REALM OF NIGHTMARES!”

Everypony suddenly roars out at the forest, screaming into the darkness. The mountains reflect the shouts to carry the voice as one, echoing across the valley. I look about in awe.

We feel. 

Scootaloo hovers on humming wings, shouting whilst twice beating her chest.

We love.

Sweetie Belle cries out with tears on her cheeks but fury in her eyes. 

I crumble the ash in my hoof and wipe it under my eyes.

“We live,” I whisper.


End Part I



. . .

> Belle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Rarity,

        I’m fine. I really need you to understand that I’m OK. Don’t freak out. Don’t do that to me, please. Believe in me. Believe that I’m alright and will stay alright.

        Things can get pretty awful, but Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and I are all fine. They’re writing letters, too. I’ll be sending one out to mom and dad, but please don’t show them this one. This is ours, OK? I don’t know if it’s wrong or not, but I told them that things aren’t so bad out here – that the papers have blown most things out of proportion and that we’re not in the Muck a lot.

        That’s not true.

        I just can’t tell them what I’ve done out here, or what I’ve really seen. I don’t know why I can tell you. It feels so strange to write about, but I need to. You can stop here, if you want, but I must write this. I’m sorry.


        I hope you’re not still mad and have come to understand why I had to go with them.

        I love you, sister, and will see you soon.

Love,
Sweetie Belle

--

 Scootaloo was the first of us kill somepony. Apple Bloom did it just before I did. The anticipation was the hardest part, and the first kill is the hardest. After that it’s pretty easy.

I feel a little awful for writing that, but it’s the truth. You’ll probably read about a place called the Shimmering Valley in the paper. 

We were there. I’ve killed many ponies, but know that they would have done it to me without hesitation. They would have killed you, too, and everypony with us.
This enemy has nothing in mind but the destruction of Equestria and everypony in it.

It’s a crusade, Rarity.

I saw it myself.

I saw it, and I can’t stop seeing it. They didn’t spare anypony in the town. They gutted Quarry and executed everypony in it.

Everypony was killed.

We had an enemy prisoner. Scootaloo personally got the information from him after she saw what happened. They believe that the princesses are abominations. They want to ‘cleanse’ the world of the alicorns and all of us who ‘worship’ them by allowing them to remain in control of the sun and moon.

That’s it. That’s their reason for the slaughter and the war. We can no longer hope that we’ll recover any of our ponies from enemy territory.

I wanted to hang on, but I can’t.

Not anymore.

I desperately wanted to continue to feel something when I killed, but now I crave the opposite.

…I hate them.

All of them, and I look forward to getting back into the Muck. I don’t think that I’ve ever truly hated anypony, but out here in the Northwest it looks to be a valuable asset.

If you’ve gotten this far – thank you. I’m still your little sister and love you with all my heart, Rarity. I hope you’re not called out here. More than anything, I hope that you can sit this out. I have no doubt you’d serve admirably, but I just want you to be safe. Funny how the tables turn, huh?

It’s hard to tell when I’ll get your letters if you, mom and dad write back, but I’ll see you all soon. 

Have faith in me.

-Sweetie
	
> Bloom
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Big Mac and Granny Smith,

A lot of that stuff they’ve said about the Northwest is just tall tales and such. That’s not to say there ain’t any truth to it, though. I can’t lie and tell you that it’s all OK. I can’t tell you not to worry when McIntosh knows that you should. I can’t tell you that we spend most of our time lying around, bored, or that I haven’t taken life.

I wish that I could. I really do, but I couldn’t do that to you, brother, and I couldn’t write to you both in separate. You’d know I was trying to hide something from you, Granny – you always have. I’d come to regret it, anyway. I’m sorry to do this, but I have to believe that this is less painful than the lie. That’s what Applejack would do, right?

I haven’t heard anything about her, but to know that she’s written takes a huge load off my back. She’s still out there rolling around in one of those tanks, I reckon. I’m always thinking of you three and the farm. That batch of apples you sent with Twilight was some of the finest things I’d ever laid eyes on. I’m sorry about what I said back when. You probably don’t even remember, but I take it back – apples are the most perfect fruit in the whole wide world. I’m also sorry about what I said of the farm. The Acres are my home and always will be.

I’m so glad Mackie’s shoulder’s all patched up, too. Takes more than a little bullet to keep my big brother down! You must have brought in some hired hooves to tend the farm, I bet. Keep them in line, and mind Little Bitsy. She’s probably grown up to be a  mighty respectable young tree by now. Say hi to old Winona, too.

…Don’t mind the little spots – it’s just a leak in the tent. It rains a lot up here.

I’m also sending my weapon home, just like McIntosh did. I won’t be coming after it, but Twilight just gave us some new ones and… I just figure…

McIntosh ought to understand. I named it after him - rugged and tough. This here new one is AJ – faithful and strong. That kind of describes Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, I reckon. You know Scoots got her cutie mark? After all this time she’s finally gone and done it. It’s a little box, having to deal with what you’ve heard about communication magic and the like. Me and Sweetie are still crusading. Maybe I’ll have something to show when I come home.

You’ll know who the enemy is soon. We got a hold of a prisoner and Scoots got him to squeal. They’re not looking to settle anything peacefully, that’s for sure. You’ll read all about it, and when you do you’ll wish you were up here with me and Applejack. We’re doing the right thing.

I love you. So, so much. We’ll be heading out soon, so it might be some time before I can write you again. I’ll be careful. 


I promise.



Love,


Applebloom


--


        Big McIntosh set the paper down and rose from the soft bed. He sighed to the moonlit room and subtly shifted his weight to his good shoulder.

        	“She’ll be a’ight, Mac,” a raspy, hollow voice assured him, “She got Pa’s grit and Ma’s resolve.”

        He sucked in a breath and swallowed hard.

        	“Yup,” he whispered.

        	“Lemme see that gun,” Applejack croaked under the numerous stitches holding her throat together.

        He looked to the corner where a beat-up, long rifle stood upright. He gently set it next to the bed then stood back, silent.

        	“I’m gonna get some shut eye,” she finally announced.

        He nodded and limped out into the hall, softly clicking the door behind him.

When his hoofsteps could no longer be heard a pair of scarred orange hooves grasped the rifle. One hoof slowly ran over the twenty-six notches etched into the body. When it met the spot where the trigger ought to be Applejack frowned. She grunted in the great struggle to sit up to get a better look in the moonlight. She sighed and studied the weapon. The trigger was tiny – far too small for a hoof to get a hold of like normal rifles.

Which meant that this wasn’t a normal long rifle.

She suddenly choked out a sob and opened her eyes wide, letting the tears fall freely. 

“No,” she whispered and snatched the rifle up, hugging the cold metal close.

She clenched her eyes as tight as she could and sobbed in long pained hums, lips firmly pursed.

“No!” she cried out, drawing tiny beads of blood from the myriad stitches.

She began to rock back and forth. She’d seen them herself in the forests of the Northwest. She continued to see them in her frequent nightmares. The mares with legs of steel, who could lift a stallion with ease and crush his head with their bare hooves.

“Not her,” she whimpered.

She blinked her eyes open and saw them – merciless, cold and terrifyingly lethal. She looked into their eyes and immediately shut her own, hanging her head. Nopony could know. Nopony could know until they absolutely had to. It was their secret.

Applejack laid her head over the gun and whimpered.

“Not Apple Bloom…”
> Scoots
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mom and Dad,

I didn’t realize how much I missed you guys until I read your letter. It’s so great to hear from you. You don’t need to worry that much, though – we’re fine. I got paired with Sweetie and Apple Bloom, even! We’re all doing OK and they say ‘hi.’ 

Things don’t get too hot out here – most of the action happens farther down the line. A lot of the time nothing happens at all. I even found time to get my cutie mark! It’s a little box having to do with new technology and stuff and I can’t wait to show you! I hope you’re doing OK and aren’t worrying too much – I’ve given dad enough grey hairs already.

We finally know who we’re fighting, too. Some ponies up the line captured one of them and got them to talk. He said that he belonged to a ‘union’ that is trying to take control of the sun and moon. They think the princesses are evil and that we’re all ‘impure’ because we allow them to have dominion over the sun and moon or something crazy like that. He spoke a strange language, but it’s similar to Equestrian and we were able to get the gist of it. 

I’m sure the newspaper makes it all out to be really awful – and it is – but not where I’m at. If we did get into a bad fight we have the Wonderbolts on our side, anyway. I’ll be careful, though. I promise. I’m not sure when I can read your next letter, so don’t get anxious or anything if I don’t reply right away. Say hi to everyone in Ponyville for me! I love you both so much and can’t wait to see you again.


	


	Your daughter,


	Scootaloo

	

> V
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Night Mares


Part II. Witching Hour


V.

August
Year 6 of the Harmonic Age

        “Roll it out!”

        The soggy earth rumbles as another armored column sloshes forward out of the town and into the forest. Dozens of ponies crowd atop the machines while others must force their way through the sludge. I sit with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle outside of a large tent, watching the preparations for the coming Equestrian offensive continue through the rain. Distant southern engagements are barely heard through the sound of the light shower. Nightmares One and Four are down there, somewhere.

For nearly twenty-four hours, a downpour has relentlessly drenched the valley, but still ponies trot about, outfitting themselves and their vehicles with fresh supplies and ammunition. Turns out sandbags, which are useful in deterring water during floods, are also very effective at stopping bullets. Many tank crews have opted to pack their front armor in a layer of them as a result. A large basket sits behind each turret packed with supplies, water, and food.

        Probably oats.

        Always oats.

        “How much longer do you think they’ll be?” Sweetie murmurs behind a feed bag.

Nightmare Five had disappeared into the tent an hour ago and Two’s next in line.

        I idly twist the long blade of grass that I’ve been chewing on with my tongue, setting it in place to answer, “Can’t be long now.”

        “That’s what you said last time,” she sighs.

        “An’ the time before that, if ya reckon back,” I remind her and shrug. “Ah’m telling the truth every time.”

        She murmurs something along the lines of “not even a real answer” and lies back against various supply boxes sitting with us. At least we have a tarp to keep the rain out, although it looks to be finally letting up anyhow. Amidst the various shouts of ponies and the patter of rain, Scootaloo lets out a particularly loud snore. I smile and reach into my backpack, withdrawing a perfect red apple. I marvel at how beautiful the fruit is against the gloom. Packed in with the supplies that the princesses brought with them was a shipment of crop from Sweet Apple Acres. No doubt Granny and Big Mac had brought in a few hired hooves to help tend the farm.

I grip the apple a little tighter.

I hope Mac’s doing OK. The bullet had struck his chest: it barely missed his heart but it messed his leg up something fierce. He hadn’t been able to stand when we said goodbye, but if anypony can walk away from a wound like that then it’s my big brother.

        I hold the apple to my forehead and shut my eyes for a moment, thinking of home before taking a bite. I all but shudder as I relish the delicious flavor. 

Just as crisp as the last thirteen. 

I open my eyes and sigh, feeling mighty satisfied if a little homesick. A sound from behind prompts me to turn about. 

A light pink pony holds the tent flap open and only says, “Two.”

I sling my rifle and stuff the fruit into my mouth. Sweetie Belle jabs Scootaloo with her elbow, waking her with a start.

“Muppl bloom did it!” She slurs under droopy purple eyes. 

She blinks the sleep away and wipes a line of drool from the corner of her mouth as Sweetie and I chuckle. She rolls her eyes and follows us into a tent brightly lit by small luminescent magical auras. Nine ponies in white coats are busy at various tables with a variety of instruments, but Princess Twilight Sparkle stands before us with her mane done up in a bun and white sleeves rolled to her elbows.

“Come on in, girls.” She beckons us with a smile and turns about. 

We follow her to three of the most beautiful things I’d ever laid eyes on – gleaming porcelain tubs filled to the brim with bubbles.

“Go ahead and get cleaned up. I’ll be right here, if you don’t mind. I’d like to run through some questions with you three.”

“Uh huh,” I mutter as I hastily remove all of my gear, eyes locked on the tub. “Whatever you say, Twi.”

Sweetie Belle beats me to the punch, but I share her reaction as I slide into my bath. I let out a long, quiet breath and shut my eyes to savor the silky feeling of the warm water which seems to instantly send me into a relaxed bliss. Scootaloo, on the other hoof, loudly groans before disappearing under the bubbles. When she reappears Twilight slides a curtain around us, silencing the scientists just outside.

“Congratulations on your cutie mark, Scootaloo,” Twilight smiles. “I always told you three that they would come eventually. Just give it a little more time,” Twilight says, pointedly staring at Sweetie and me.

I glance to Sweetie’s green eyes just visible over the tub and smirk. I reckon we really don’t mind all that much nowadays, anyway. The three of us had more or less accepted that they wouldn’t come considering all the stuff we’d tried growing up.

“First and foremost,” Twilight withdraws a clipboard from under her wing, “how do you three feel?”

She looks up with a slightly anxious smile, as if afraid of what she might hear. I purse my lips and look to Sweetie on my right and then to Scoots on my left. They look to be doing OK, all things considered, and if they’re OK then so am I. 

I turn back to Twilight. “Ah’m alright, Princess. Sometimes it gets hard, but Ah’m doing fine.”

Our friend maintains her gaze on me for a moment before turning to Sweetie Belle. The white mare pokes at a cluster of bubbles. “I feel good, too.”

Scootaloo only nods with a small smile.

Twilight softly smiles back and clicks a pen, scribbling at the clipboard. If we gave a concerning answer, she doesn’t betray it in her face. Her lack of expression, however, is just as troubling. I bet she’s practiced hiding her emotions, being a princess and all. Suppose we did give a bad answer, though? What would she do then?

She finally sets the pen down and looks back up. “Do you consider yourselves to be an effective team?”

We nod vigorously.

“Good!” She chirps and once again scratches a few notes.

She asks if we’ve sustained any particularly serious injuries, if the implants have given us any trouble, as well as other simple questions mostly pertaining to our well-being. Seems to me she’s growing more anxious with each one, though.

By now we’re about all clean, but the same cannot be said of the water. As it begins to border on lukewarm Twilight holds up a hoof and softly sighs, shutting her eyes.

“Just one more question.” Her ears droop and she looks to me. I press my back against the smooth glass under her pressing gaze.

“Describe your first kill.”

I blink.

My… first?

 I look down into the swirling mess of rust-colored water. That’s not what a bath looks like after a simple romp in the mud. I clench my eyes shut.

Twenty-six cracks of the Long Rifle echo into the Nether, each bringing to my mind’s eye with remarkable clarity its victim’s final moments. Each and every one, I remember. Each and every one marked on my rifle. It’s as if I’m rewinding time, erasing every notch.

“He had his back to me.” I finally say aloud. I meet Twilight’s gaze and it’s her turn to flinch – if only by barely moving her purple irises.

        “Sweetie and Scootaloo were waiting for my go,” I explain. “I lined up the crosshairs, squeezed the trigger and dropped him. Easy as apple pie.”

Twilight breaks the stare and writes into her clipboard.

“Sweetie Belle.” she mutters with the smallest of cracks in her voice. 

She doesn’t look up as Sweetie relays the events immediately following my first kill. She’s more detailed, however. I left out the little blood trail for our friend’s sake, but Sweetie Belle coolly tells her that the wall erupted in a splash of red when the pony’s head smashed into it.

Twilight silently writes.

“Scootaloo?” She whispers.

I look sidelong to the pegasus. 

She only shrugs. “I was hiding in the grass with Sweetie from a patrol. We were sure that she would see us, but if she did Apple Bloom would have nailed her. She ended up turning around and walking away. That’s when I got up and brought out my knife.”

She holds up her hooves to give a visual. “I put one hoof over her mouth and stabbed her right in the neck. We went to the ground, but she was making a lot of loud gurgling noises and moving around too much.”

She clicks her digits out and grips an imaginary pony. Twilight looks to be shivering and her ears are flat against her skull. Scoots don’t seem to notice.

“She was going to alert the other ponies inside the building. So I used my fingers to get a good grip and then I gave a good, hard twis–”

Twilight suddenly gasps and puts her hoof to her mouth, eyes clenched. She heaves and takes long, shuddering breaths. I rise and grasp a nearby towel, running it over my fur just enough to embrace the alicorn without soaking her.

“Easy, Twi,” I softly whisper. “Easy.”

She looks to my legs and shakes her head. 

“What have I done?” she whispers. My friends climb out of their baths. “What did I do to you?”

“Hey, hey,” Sweetie kneels at her side. “You gave us a chance. A chance to stay together.”

“To survive,” Scootaloo hangs her head and sighs. “I’m sorry, Twilight.”

 “Listen – we don’t hold nothin’ against you, Twi,” I reassure her. “Why, if it weren’t for you, me and Scoots would’ve been drafted anyhow and sent Celestia-knows-where. Sweetie wouldn’t have been much farther behind, neither.” 

“We ought to thank you, if anything,” Scootaloo offers.

I put a hoof to her chin and grin. She wipes her eyes and sighs, eventually smiling softly back.

“See? We’re doin’ just fine,” I gently pat her back. “I know – why don’t you tell us about home?”


--


        “I had Pinkie Pie declared unfit for combat the moment I heard she got drafted.”

        Scoots, Sweetie and I sit on our haunches atop a large table before all nine of Twilight’s scientists. Three per mare.

        “It couldn’t be an outright executive order, but I strongly recommended that she be run through the tests. Needless to say, she failed with flying colors.”

        That’s a relief. I feel a might awful for thinking it, but I reckon she’d last all of two minutes out here. Tiara’s still alive, but if her crew’s even half of what my friends are then it’s no wonder. One of the science ponies uses a knife to cut through the thick fabric at my knee. When it falls to the floor a blue glow shines brightly from the metalwork that is my hind leg. I gently flex my metal “toes” in and out as the ponies go to work at the contraption with a multitude of tools.

        “So, she just went home?” Scootaloo asks. The ponies cut the fabric at her legs and a purple light joins my blue. Sweetie’s adds a light green to the mix.

        “Well, no. She’s not really insane, she’s just—” Twilight pauses and shrugs. “You know – just Pinkie. So, being an able-bodied mare, she couldn’t be outright sent back. She tours around Equestria as part of a ‘morale squad.’ If it comes to it, however, she’ll be called to the line. Fluttershy volunteered for the field hospitals but has yet to be selected.”

        Twilight’s gaze wanders to the floor for a moment. She next nods to Sweetie and Scoots.

        “Erm – Rarity is doing well in Ponyville, Sweetie, and I have letters from all of your families when we’re done here. I’ll also take back any letters you girls want to write.”

        Various clicks are made as the scientists continue their work. They even outright remove one of my limbs for inspection before reattaching it.

        “Clear,” one of the ponies at my hooves calls out, rising to his full height.

        The ponies at my friend’s hooves respond in kind.

        Twilight nods. “Thank you. This way, please.” 

        She leads us to a long table at the back of the tent where a blanket conceals multiple items. The princess upturns some of the cloth and suspends a sleek, long rifle in her magical aura.

        “The Equestrian Long Rifle Mk.2 – specially modified.” She explains. “It uses the same size cartridge but will be more stable at longer ranges on account of its tightened barrel. Note the deployable stand for such shots, as well as an adjustable cheek-rest on the butt. The scope also has small covers to keep the glass safe and is more powerful.”

        I take the gun in my hooves. It’s been painted a deep, matte green, bordering on black. The bolt and slide are polished to a beautiful copper sheen. While my previous gun looked to be rather simple, the same cannot be said of the Mk. 2 on account of its fine details and subtle indents. It even has small slots in the side of the stock to hold extra rounds.

Nice touch.

Beautiful weapon.

“These,” Twilight holds two more guns up to Sweetie and Scootaloo, “are the Mk. 4 Standard Infantry Rifles, also specially modified for your hooves. They possess the ability to fire in rapid succession – as fast as you can pull the trigger, if need be. Use that sparingly, though – ammunition goes fast.”

My friends inspect the rifles, fiddling with the mechanisms and peering down the sights.

“You’ll also get a pair of scopes,” Twilight adds, “depending on the situation, you can attach or detach them easily.”

She lifts the rest of the cover back to reveal three brand new vests. They probably won’t stop a bullet, but they will hold all kinds of pouches. Also included are shirts as well as gloves and a pair of pants that cover our flanks down to the knee, meeting the metalwork. About time – the nights are starting to get nippy.

“Is there anything new with who we’re killing, Twilight?” Scootaloo asks while slipping a pair of dark gloves over her hooves. There are no holes for her fingers, but that is easily remedied when she suddenly extends them.

“We’ve taken to calling them the Union, on account of insignia recovered from the dead.” Twilight explains. “All three pony species represented as one. There really isn’t anything beyond that, although unicorn corpses seem to be in short supply compared to earth ponies and pegasi. I theorize that they are the leadership.”

“Very mysterious,” Sweetie muses. 

She wraps her forehooves in a long strip of khaki cloth and punches four holes in either hoof just like Scootaloo. I slip a green shirt over my head and roll the sleeves up to my elbows.

“Don’t matter none – we’re going to beat the hay out of them.”

Twilight sighs. “Just be careful, Apple Bloom. Stay on your guard. They didn’t hit as hard here as they did farther south. There’s no telling what’s in that forest.”

I clip on my vest.

“Pack light.” Sweetie Belle advises.

I opt for three large pockets on my chest. Two magazines ought to fit in each. I roll my shoulders and adjust individual straps to get a snug fit.

“What’s all that?” Scootaloo asks.

I look up to a large batch of grass being held in Twilight’s magic. She drops the pile and withdraws a strip of the stuff.

“This is camouflage wrap. It’s itchy, but it’ll help keep you hidden. You can join it together like a big blanket or rip it into small sections without damaging it.”

Sweetie grabs a small hoofful and toys with it for a moment. She gives a satisfied smile and joins it with some more to conceal her whole back.

“What do you think?” She asks, flipping some over her head to create a hood. She crouches with her back to us and instantly becomes a bush.

I laugh aloud and quickly put a hoof to my mouth. “Not too shabby, Sweetie. Ah bet Rainbow Dash’ll have a hoot with this stuff on Nightmare Night.”

She giggles and stands back up, flipping the hood back. I grasp some for myself and quickly see what the princess meant by ‘itchy.’ I hold it to the back of my neck and promptly pull it away. This stuff is awful! Instead of concealing myself I choose to put the wrap around the barrel of my weapon and atop the scope. I can’t be scratching myself when trying to take a shot, after all. Scootaloo packs some wrap in her backpack and I do the same. I don’t know how Sweetie can stand having it on even this long, but when I need it I’ll have it. When we’re all set in our gear the scientist ponies cover our hind legs in new cloth wraps that completely blot out the magical light.

“Very good,” the princess says. “Just come on this way to write—”

“Your Highness!” Two Celestial pegasus guards burst into the tent, “You must come with us immediately, by the order of Princess Luna!”

Twilight quickly composes herself and motions for us to follow. As we trot out into the rain she asks what’s happened.

“The first of the liberating parties has come across Quarry, Princess. They requested both Your Highness’ immediate presence. We have an armored convoy ready for departure.”

We are quickly led to a line of five idle tanks. A steady stream of white smoke flows from the exhaust pipes.

“These Night Mares will accompany us,” Twilight announces over the engines as she removes her lab coat.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” One of the guards gives her a combat vest and helps her to the hatch.

She disappears inside and we clamber up behind the turret. The guard bangs twice on the lead tank’s hull and takes to the sky. A pony rises from the hatch and plays a shrill tune through a trumpet. The tanks speed into the forest as fast as the muddy trail will allow. 

I stand and reach into the supply basket attached to the tank’s turret, withdrawing boxes of bullets to fill our magazines. Sweetie mouths ‘thank you,’ under the roar of the engines and I nod, settling back down and priming my weapon. I put two fingers to my eyes and motion to the surrounding trees. Sweetie and Scoots turnabout and watch the forest carefully. I doubt anypony’s out there, but better safe than sorry. 

I reckon back to the map in Commander Star Shade’s headquarters. The town of Quarry is only a short distance away from the site where Scoots got her cutie mark and will be the first town to be reclaimed. Shimmering Valley was the last place to be evacuated – everypony in the dozens of towns from here to the coast is trapped behind enemy lines. I swallow the lump in my throat and focus on the trees rushing past under the misty grey sky.

I hope they’ve been treated well.


--


        I smell it before the town is even visible through the rolling fog. Sweetie and Scoots look to one another and then to me, concerned. I purse my lips and sharply inhale. It’s a heavy smell – one that hangs palpable in my nostrils. The same smell of the Valley on the fourth day and the pyre on the eighth. 

The rain’s let up to a fine mist and we rumble past a rock wall into the town proper, tank treads now clacking atop cobblestone. The procession slows to a halt amidst homes with walls of stone and sloped shingle roofs. The town is very small compared even to Ponyville and is arranged much like the Valley with homes packed tightly along wide streets. More than a few have gaping holes in them or have outright collapsed in the fight to reclaim the town.  From the lead tank Princess Luna emerges and is immediately flanked by four of the Lunar Guard. I fall to the cobblestone on my hind legs with a loud clack. Several enemy machines quietly burn down the road whilst Equestrian ponies trot about in the reclaimed hamlet.

        “We make for the town hall.” A unicorn of the Solar Guard helps Twilight to the ground and nods to a tall, circular structure reminiscent of Ponyville’s town hall.

Half of the hall’s spire has been destroyed, however, and the other smoldering half looks ready to buckle at any moment.

“Got it. Let’s get up,” I order, approaching a two-story home. 

I roll my neck and grip the body of my gun tightly, using my free fore-hoof to latch onto the stone bricks. My toes sharply scrape against the blocks as I quickly clamber up the side with my friends following close behind. I glance down at an awestruck Twilight and smile inwardly before vaulting over the edge and clicking atop a shingled roof. The scent is stronger up here, overtaking the rain’s cleansing effect with ease.

Scootaloo scrunches her muzzle and shakes her head. “It shouldn’t be this strong.”

My eyes shift about as I lead the way atop the rooftops just ahead of the trotting royal entourage. The scent grows worse with each step along with a plunging weight in my stomach.

“The battle wasn’t nearly large enough,” Sweetie affirms. 

We finally stop next to the hall and I put a hoof to my muzzle, trying to block the stench. Sweetie’s eyes go wide.

“Where are the refugees?” she quietly asks.

I suddenly run short of breath. My eyes dart about the ruined building.

They couldn’t.

My world begins to spin.

They couldn’t have.

I blink and suddenly stand with the princesses before the entrance to town hall. When did I climb down? 

Wait. 

The scent. It’s here. It’s powerful. It’s just past those doors. 

Two ponies are talking. An officer-pony stands between Princess Luna and the entrance, refusing her access. Twilight is shaking. Her ears are flat against her head and her eyes are locked on the doors. Luna is shouting, now.

There won’t be any refugees from Quarry.

“They couldn’t have,” I moan. I want to look away, but the scent holds me still with eyes fixed ahead.

The princess shoves the officer aside and flings the doors wide open.


--


        CRASH

        I gently stroke Twilight Sparkle’s mane as she quietly sobs into my vest. Another block of masonry is taken up in a white glow and flung into an abandoned home.

        CRASH

        I want to cry with her, but my tears won’t come. They never came. To my relief – or maybe horror – neither Scootaloo nor Sweetie Belle have shed a tear, either. They stare with me at the ashes of the hall with that awful blank look. I turn my head to a particularly loud smash that sets the ground aquiver.

        “Ah wonder why she don’t just join us in the Muck – being so angry and such?” I mutter.

        Twilight flinches at the next crash and stirs, wiping her eyes and deeply sniffing.

        “Between her and her sister, Ah bet they could wipe out everypony in a few minutes.” I shake my head. “Why don’t they just do that?”

“Because,” Twilight sits up and swallows hard, “they’re vulnerable. Even Princess Celestia could only stop so many bullets with her shield spell. They’re so small and move so fast that I could barely stop three in a row.”

She hangs her head. “The alicorns are powerful, but we’re by no means all-powerful. Ponies like to think of us as some kind of transcendent deities, but at the end of the day we’re all just ponies.”

“Except you live for thousands of years,” Sweetie mutters, “And can harness the power of the sun and moon…”

“To an extent,” Twilight retorts. “Celestia guides the sun, but she cannot outright focus its energy into some kind of death-ray.”

I sigh at that. Why the hay not? It sure would make things easier. Even after seeing what was in that building the mighty princesses are near helpless to do anything themselves.

CRASH.

I reckon that must be a might frustrating. 

Twilight continues to sit before the smoldering ruin amidst the smell of charred flesh and death. Luna eventually stops destroying what’s left of the town, letting silence envelope it. Twilight sighs and rises to her hooves.

“You’ll get them,” she says quietly. “You’ll make them pay for this.”

“Yeah,” I get up to all fours. “Yeah, Twi. We will.”

Still looking at the ashes, she chillingly smiles. 

She likes the sound of that. I do, too. 

She turns about and nods to her guard. The stallions immediately surround her, stoic as ever. Luna and her guard appear over a rooftop and alight upon the cobblestone before us.

“Operation Starlight is to be executed,” she seethes under narrowed eyes. “Now.”

“Princess—” The guards adjust to form a protective circle as Twilight faces her. “—I know you’re angry, but we can’t rush—”

“Angry?” Luna exclaims. “No, dear Twilight Sparkle.”

She proceeds to march down the street, head low.

“The time for anger is long behind Us. Anger is what We felt when this Union would trespass upon our fair lands and needlessly shed blood. We have the opportunity and the means with which to strike and it shall be done.”

She looks back and her face softens. “They will be avenged, Twilight.”

She nods. “I understand, but –” She stops and her ears swivel about.

My friend’s ears flick with mine. Multiple very faint booms come from the west and then silence once again overtakes the town. We sit absolutely still, no one daring to move or hardly breathe as a cool breeze softly brushes our manes. A faint whistle soars through the sky and is getting louder. Everypony slowly inches back as the whistles become loud, low-pitched shrieks.

“Incoming!” A pony down the road shouts.

The shrieks grow into an earsplitting wail, driving me down low. Up ahead a gigantic plume of debris and earth is thrown high into the air and we are rocked by an enormous blast. I land hard on my back and roll to my belly, opening my mouth wide as I rub my throbbing head and my ears ring.

The ground again ferociously jolts and I empty my stomach at the shock. The world becomes a hazy orange blur as dirt pelts my head and I lose sight of everypony. I try to stand but am again forced to the ground, helpless as the town bears the force of another blast. I bare my teeth and force my legs to go rigid, rising up to a dizzying mess of dust, debris and shockwaves. With forehooves outstretched I wade through the dust toward a dark figure on the ground.

I shout for Twilight and nearly flop atop her. Twilight Sparkle cowers behind her forehooves, immobile under the barrage. I stumble under another impact and pull the alicorn across my shoulders, shouting under a rain of debris to stand atop my hind legs. I turn about to what I hope is the forest and stomp into the cobblestone as the entire world is blasted into oblivion around me. I huff and wheeze and the edges of my vision go dark. 

A pony – two ponies – are at my sides.

They run upright just like me.

One has an unconscious Princess Luna draped across her shoulders.

I’m suddenly on ground, not moving.

I need to move.

Everything is shaking and booming.

Everything hurts.

Now I’m sliding on my rump, still cradling Twilight.

Where are we going?

I lost my bow.

I blink and find myself atop a tank. 

Scoots hoists Sweetie up by her hoof and we’re on our way.

I lie back with Twilight shuddering in my hooves. She’s looking around now and keeps opening and closing her mouth, like a fish out of water. 

She looks mighty silly doing that. Pretty unbecoming of a princess, I’d say.

I look to Scoots and Sweetie. Both they and the princess are coated in a layer of dirt, and I think Sweetie dropped her weapon at some point.

She just got that, too. What a shame.

I breathe slowly.

In and out. 

Nice and easy.

Like that Sapphire Shores record I lent you years back. I know it’s in your house, Sweetie.

I look up to the familiar buildings of the Shimmering Valley. The convoy stops and a flurry of ponies rush to take the princesses away.

Where are they going?

My hooves go limp and I slide to the ground, planting my face into the stone.

Heh. I bet that hurt something fierce.

I stumble to a wall and sit on my rump, shakily taking an apple from my backpack. 

Yum. Apples.

Heh, like my name.

As I go to take a bite an orange hoof stops me. I slowly look up to Scoots.

She’s looking at me funny.

I feel funny.

My face is wet and warm.

Blankets are warm.

Where’s my gear?

Pillows are soft.

Pillows feel nice.

I reckon it’s about bedtime, then.

Everything is still shaking and booming.

.
.
.

I gasp and roll to land hard on my side. I wheeze from the sudden loss of air but ignore the pain and shuffle under the cot, waiting for the impact.

There’s no impact.

There’s no wail of incoming fire.

        Everything is still shaking and booming, though.

 I can hear it, I can—

The booming is in time with the beating of my heart. I lift my ears from the side of my head and the booming stops.

I still feel the shaking, though. I can—

I let out a breath and relax my aching muscles.

Gradually, the shaking stops too.

I let out a pained breath and rub my side, whimpering.

I slowly crawl out from under the cot, rising to all fours. A sliver of bright, amber sunlight runs from the top of the tent to the ground, and I can hear talking outside. I don’t have anything on except for the familiar cloth draped over my hind legs, and my muzzle is very sore and tender. I step outside into a forest bathed in the golden rays of a morning sun. Tanks and tents are on all sides.

Starlight’s in effect, after all. I listen closely to distant conflicts, picking out the wailing earth-pounders and shuddering at the sound. I jump at a loud snore just to my left. Scootaloo sleeps with her head atop a bag and her forelegs crossed over her weapon. I shake my head and smile.

“Hey,” I put a hoof on her shoulder. “Scoots.”

She scrunches her face and a purple eye barely opens, “Apple Bloom.” She sits up and gives a long stretch. “We’ve been waiting on you.”

“For how long?”

“Maybe twelve hours,” she mutters and takes a drink from her canteen. “I dunno. Here’s your stuff.”

She slides the bag toward me.

I open it up and get dressed. “Twelve hours ain’t that long, Scootaloo.”

She huffs. “All the other squads are already out in the Muck, getting payback. The news is out – everypony in Equestria’s going to know what happened in Quarry soon.”

I go to tie up my mane but remember that I lost my bow in that town. Haysuckers made me lose my bow! I give an annoyed snort and let my mane hang loose.

“Twilight’s got your gun,” Scootaloo says as she gets up and gives me a feed bag.

I grimace at the thing but reluctantly clip the strap around my head. Food’s food, after all. I follow Scootaloo through the camp. Everything looks real temporary, but sticking to one spot now would be suicide with those earth-pounders flying around. I munch along and we soon come to another tent. Twilight stands at the entrance with Sweetie, both looking mighty serious.

I gulp and remove the bag from my muzzle, looking at Sweetie and then to Twilight.

“We have one,” Twilight says quietly.

“One what?”

“Them,” she mutters. “We have one. He knows Equestrian, but it’s broken.”

Scootaloo looks quickly from Twilight and the tent flap.

“In there?” She asks in seeming disbelief.

Sweetie nods.

“You have a bad guy in there?”

She nods again. 

“What are you going to do – you’re gonna interrogate him?”

Once more, Sweetie nods. Scootaloo’s legs suddenly whine as she rises to her full height.

“Wait,” Twilight moves to block her. “Scoota—” Scoots walks right through her, throwing the flap open and stomping inside. 

I dash after her and see the prisoner – a green unicorn bound to a chair and looking in fear at the pony hulking toward him on her hind legs. A Celestial Guard moves to confront Scoots who she shoves away with a shout, grabbing the captured unicorn with fully extended fingers curling about his screaming head.

“You tell me why!” she commands, “Tell me why we’re here – why everypony’s dead! Why!?”

The pony only looks around wildly with tiny pinpricks for eyes, crying out in terror and pain as beads of blood trickle down from his mane and over his light green face.

“Enough!” Twilight shouts and magically forces Scootaloo off of him, holding her body fast. She bares her teeth and strains against the aura, slowly inching forward to seize the pony again.

Twilight’s eyes widen in a moment of panic and then shut as she strengthens the spell, finally managing to hold Scootaloo still. My friend is staring down the sobbing pony with all the fury she can muster. I turn my head to a rustle from behind. Princess Luna strides in, flanked by two of her guard. She looks about in a moment of confusion but when she sees Scootaloo being held back the tiniest of smiles graces her lips.

It disappears when the captive picks his head up and looks to her. His eyes shift between her and Twilight with malice that rivals that of her attacker.

“Will you tell us why?” Princess Luna asks.

The pony curls his lip into a tiny smile and glares at her.

“I’ll make him talk,” Scootaloo growls. “I’ll stay in control.”

Twilight looks to Luna and she curtly nods.

Scootaloo immediately punches the pony the moment she’s released and slips off her gloves, grasping one of his bound forehooves. Her fingers click out and rest softly on his fur. A tiny smile touches her face and she begins to apply pressure to one of the digits, pressing into his flesh. He scrunches his face as if determined but it’s not long before he’s hissing through his teeth.


--


“They are reason!” he gasps. “They are why! Sun. Moon. Long ago they steal. You worship thieves! You let them stay control!”

His frantic voice carries no accent. If he weren’t missing a few words and chunks of his foreleg then I would easily mistake him for one of us.

“Alicorn abominations!” He cries out. “Poison you ponies!”

He looks to Twilight, “They make more.” He looks around to Sweetie, Scoots and I and manages to smile. “They make you. Slaves with poison minds. We free you.”

He looks directly at Luna. “We have free everypony we find.”

I sink to my haunches, trying to make sense.

Make sense of the reason. 

No – not a reason. 

That is not a reason!

They killed everypony in Quarry because they worshipped the princesses?

No.

Not just Quarry. Everypony from there to the coast. Everypony is dead.

I shake my head and feel nauseous. They aren’t waging war, but a massacre.

My fingers slowly extend outward. I feel something. It’s deep down, but growing hotter. As a filly the word was almost impossible to say, but I reckon I know it now. It’s becoming a part of me.

I hate this pony.

I hate all of them. They must be destroyed.

I will stop him.

I must.

Princess Luna does it for me, leaving everypony to stare at the limp body in the chair.

“Monsters,” Twilight whispers.

“Indeed,” Luna agrees. “He goes to Canterlot to be interrogated further.”

I pick my head up at that. 

Huh. I thought she’d actually gone and killed him for a second.

“These Night Mares are to be deployed by day’s end,” she orders, striding from the tent with her guard in tow.

As Twilight’s guards move toward the prisoner, Sweetie looks to her.

“Can we read those letters now, Twilight?”


--


I dry my eyes and let the pencil hang loosely from my teeth. I tie up my mane in one of the bows that Granny’d sent and sigh. Twi said that we should keep the augmentations and such under wraps for the time being. As ponies are sent home, word’ll eventually get around that Night Mares are real, but it won’t be me that says it. Most everything else is free game, though. I couldn’t lie and say things were A-OK what with big brother having gone through it and all, but I didn’t give any details. They can know, but they don’t got to know everything.

I feel better after writing this, despite the fresh wave of homesickness. I softly smile and put the pencil down, setting the paper in an envelope with my fingers. These are actually real useful, all things considered. I hope everypony back home won’t be too freaked out by them. I trot outside into bright sunshine and find Twilight standing before a line of rumbling tanks preparing to depart to the line. Scootaloo and Sweetie sit atop one with other ponies, ready to go.

“Are you ready?” Twilight asks.

I nod and offer the envelope in my teeth.

She smiles and takes it in her magic, placing it into a saddlebag. She withdraws two magazines and tucks them into my backpack.

“This is specially treated ammunition,” she explains, “It’s not easy to produce, so use it only for extreme or especially important shots.”

She next looks me over and settles on my eyes. I tilt my head some. Looks to me like she’s got a little of that stare, herself. She steps forward and wraps a foreleg about my neck. I embrace her back, trying in vain to quell the butterflies in my belly that are sent into a frenzy at the thought of heading back out.

“Thank you,” she mutters. “Be careful and watch over your friends. We’re all proud of you, Apple Bloom.”

“Thanks, Twi. We still don’t hold anything against you,” I reassure her. “Don’t let nothing get to you, neither. You’re doing a mighty fine job.”

She leans back and levitates my new weapon over with a sniff. I named it Applejack – I’m sending Mac home with the letter.

“Good luck,” she sighs and steps back as I clamber aboard with my friends under the blare of a trumpet. “Good hunting.”

The mechanical beasts roar and clatter forward on a trail beneath falling leaves and a chilling wind. The fall must come here earlier than to the rest of Equestria. Twilight waves to us one more time and is quickly lost to the trees. I look down to the rifle in my lap and run my hoof over the weapon.

Our mission to sabotage those radio installations remains top priority. Twilight called those earth-pounders ‘artillery’ or some such, and they’ve halted the main advance. They’re upwards of five miles away from whatever they’re hitting and are very precise on account of instant communications. If we run across a battery then we’re to divert and destroy it. Either way, Union’s dying and we’re pushing forward. I look to my friends and they smile back. I openly grin and look back to the mess of orange and red leaves mixed with the pines, thinking of my first Running of the Leaves in the Whitetail Woods with sis…

“Hey,” somepony to my right mutters. “Hey, Apple.”

I open my eyes and glance to a hazel earth pony with a cropped, blonde mane. All of her equipment is clean as can be and her bright blue eyes focus on me intently under a green helmet bearing a red cross within a white circle.

“Howdy,” I answer. “Have we met?”

She suddenly becomes apprehensive and bites her lip, as if shocked that I can talk. 

“Ah’m Apple Bloom. How’d you know Ah’m an Apple?”

She gives a nervous chuckle and shrugs, “Ponies just talk about you guys. The Night Mares, I mean. That’s you, right? Nightmare Two?”

I smirk, hold out a forehoof and flex my fingers out. At first she twitches back but then quickly leans in for a better look.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

 “Ponies call me Band Aid,” she mutters without taking her eyes from my hoof.

I glance to her flank where two Band-Aids forming a medical cross proudly stand out.

“You’re a medic?”

“Mhmm,” she affirmatively hums as she flicks at my individual digits. I smile and retract them. Band-Aid pouts and sits upright again.

“Is this your first time up here?”

She nods with a smile and the helmet sinks to her muzzle. She tilts it up and giggles.

I smile softly back. It’s about all I can do. I don’t trust myself to open my mouth again. The tank slows and the commander emerges from the hatch.

“Knock them dead, Night Mares!” He shouts, “Go on – get going!”

My friends and I hop to the ground amidst a clamor of excited shouts. I look to Band-Aid and give her a quick salute. She gives a great big grin and waves as the line of tanks charges forward. A constant hail of artillery howls through the trees from above, causing my fingers to rattle in their sockets despite my best efforts to keep them still. The front’s up ahead, but we’re fixing to slip through and lend a hoof on the way.

“Let’s roll.” Scootaloo huffs and trots into the trees, taking lead.

I can hear another column of tanks pass by, and then another.

Sweetie pipes up, “How many ponies do you think are out here?”

“Of us?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“A ton,” Scootaloo answers. “Twilight told me that Luna has, like, thirty thousand ponies on the line and making the push.”

 “No way,” I scoff.

“That’s what she said, and more are on the way. The princess isn’t messing around,” Scootaloo adds, “and neither are the bad guys. They have just as many, if not more according to advance scouts.” 

A lot of us have been filtering into the Northwest these past few weeks, but that many? Twi had said that the frontline is many miles long, however…

 “And just when did she confide all this, Scoots?” Sweetie probes.

She shrugs. “I just asked. Cadence is apparently kicking flank, too. She’s going to come up and meet us at the rate they’re going.”

I hum and look up to the canopy. The tree cover is thick out here and the sun shines through orange leaves, casting the forest in an amber haze. If it weren’t for the subtle tremors in the ground, the wail of artillery and the pops of distant gunfire I could up and take a nap right here in a bed of felled leaves.

“Rainbow Dash is still up here,” Sweetie mentions to me and speaks up to Scootaloo. “I thought the Bolts were headed back south after the Valley defense?”

“About half did,” she explains, “but Spitfire’s got the other half staying with Luna. Dash is with Fleetfoot’s wing somewhere up here.”

“You were out, but you should have seen their gear!” Sweetie gushes. “They have these saddles with two little handles that they hold with their fore-hooves. Then there are two huge guns that fire crazy fast.”

“More like wicked fast.” Scoots corrects her.

“Yeah, but they shoot bullets made of rainbows!”

“It’s totally nuts, but it works,” Scootaloo adds. “Twilight said she was looking into making them portable. Right now the Wonderbolts need these static metal wings to help get more lift while their real wings give the forward power. They got to have a running start, too, and the one we talked to said that only the strongest fliers could hover. If anypony else tries they fall like a rock – the wings need air going under them all the time, you know?”

I reckon back to the pony falling to his death in the Valley and shudder. “Yeah.”

The tremors gradually intensify while the low drone of the shelling seems to make my very bones creak. One impacts just a short distance ahead, causing us to duck low under a slamming shockwave that sends all the leaves into frenzy.

I begin to uncontrollably pant and force myself into a rhythm of deep breaths, licking my lips and gently closing my eyes for ten seconds as a soft rain of earth pelts my head. I clench my rattling teeth as the thought of us being suddenly obliterated forces its way to my mind’s eye. I jump at the touch of a hoof on my shoulder.

“Hey.” Sweetie looks at me, concerned. “You good, Apple Bloom?”

“Yeah,” I nod and shakily get up. “Yup,” I run a hoof over my face and sniff. “I just don’t much care for the artillery...”

She frowns and hugs me close. I go rigid at the sudden embrace but gradually stop shaking in her hooves.

“You’re fine,” she mutters. “Alright? You’re OK.”

She lets go and I let out a long breath, calming down. She smiles.

“The front’s straight ahead,” Scootaloo calls back. “Looks like a pretty good gunfight. You girls game?”

“We’re game!” Sweetie shouts and turns to me. “Come on, Apple Bloom. You’re a Night Mare – time to get back in the Muck. Time to kill those monsters. You’re good!”

I steel myself and rise to my full height, rolling my shoulders and exhaling nice and slow.

“I’m good.”

The two of us trot up to Scootaloo.

“Ready to rock?”

Sweetie and I nod and grip our guns tightly.

“OK – stay low and stick close, we’re right behind everypony. We’ll stop at the line and see what’s going down.”

Just a short gallop from our position a shell screams into the earth and rocks us hard. I bare my teeth and hiss out the shock. I’m good.

“Up!” Scootaloo shouts. 

In a flash we’re on our hind legs and sprinting forward as the massive plume of dust comes back down. I dodge past a 
tree and squint, seeing the heads of ponies straight ahead. I break through the tree line and slide into a small pit, startling the small group of ponies inside.

“What the? Whoa!” Scootaloo and Sweetie jump in with me. I look to the pony that spoke. She’s about our age and peers at us with widening eyes.

“You—” she starts to stutter. “You’re— you—“

“Need your help,” I finish for her. “Ya’ll got to let us through. When we get up, stop shooting for a little while, got it?”

She nods with her mouth wide open.

Another pony rolls her eyes and hobbles over to me.

“Don’t mind her,” the yellow pony mutters, “we’ve got your back. Stick around until we go over – it’ll be soon.”

She scoots back and I look over the rim of the pit to a scene of utter devastation. The enemy guns have obliterated almost all of the trees to my left and right, and still they continue to fire. Up ahead are numerous craters in which ponies cower under the bombardment, taking shots when they can at the tree line far ahead. Any friendly tank that dares to emerge from the shadow of the treeline is immediately struck by an enemy shell, exploding in a spectacular show of sparks and fire.

I gulp.

That could be AJ, somewhere.  

"Those tanks need to stay put," the yellow pony growls. "They're fragile enough as is."

My heart sinks.

Fragile?

A distant trumpet suddenly blares over the chaos, and more carry its tune.

I jump at the shrill cry of a horn right beside me. A great shout rises from the Equestrian line.

“Up and over – move it!” the yellow pony shouts.

I clamber out of the crater with everypony and charge forward past static tanks that provide fire support. On all sides dozens if not hundreds of ponies emerge from the ground and gallop, shouting with all their might. Numerous yellow flashes in the tree line send bright streaks hissing past, the particularly close ones loudly snap right over my head. 

“Go! Don’t stop!” the yellow pony shouts.

The ground comes alive under a directed barrage of earth-pounders that send ponies and debris flying upon impact. I veer right and into the dust clouds that they create, leaping over numerous craters and focused solely on slamming one hoof after another into the moist dirt.  I glance over my shoulder at Scootaloo and Sweetie. They’re still OK. As we approach the enemy treeline the number of intact trees increases, providing us with cover. Gunshots erupt from the forest as Equestrians make contact.

I slide into the side of a destroyed tank and collect my breath.

“Y’all okay?” I pant.

Sweetie and Scoots nod.

I look back and frown. “Where’d everypony go?”

They look with me. A large cloud of dust obscures the forest on the other side, but a hoofful of ponies still run. It’s not long before they are struck and collapse to the ground.

I look about nervously, waiting for the dust to clear. As it finally starts to dissipate Sweetie gasps and puts a hoof to her muzzle.

“What?” I ask. “What?”

I squint at the fading cloud and my breath catches when I realize that nopony is there. Everypony’s gone. A few managed to slide into craters, but the ground is littered with multi-colored corpses. My heart sinks at the sight of a few crawling on their bellies – most are missing limbs. The firefight in the forest is short-lived and it’s not long before the Union is sending rounds across the way again.

Sweetie brings forth her binoculars. “You wouldn’t even guess that the charge happened.” she mutters.

I peer through my scope at the tree line from whence we just came. Already reinforcements are disembarking their ride and setting up shop. 

I sigh and sink to my belly, “We’ll wait for nightfall. Get down before somepony accidentally shoots you.”

With that I make my way underneath the destroyed tank’s hull, using my legs to clear away a little pocket. My friends do the same and we can only watch from our makeshift shelter as the Union’s guns continue to pulverize what’s left of the forest. To the left and right, as far as the eye can see, there is nothing. It’s all flat and it’s all being contested. Tank shells whir overhead and bullets hiss back and forth whilst the ground incessantly rattles. Through it all the cries of the dying echo in my head. I lay my head in the crook of my foreleg and shut my eyes.

It’s horrifying.

It’s open war.

It’s Operation Starlight – the Equestrian offensive.

.
.
.

It’s about time.
> VI
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Night Mares



VI.

August
Year 6 of the Harmonic Age


“Y’all reckon that’s the tank crew?”

“The four with the helmets?”

“Yeah.”

Artillery shells ceaselessly howl through a fog-ridden dawn as Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo and I take stock of our first objective. The forest is beginning to thin here – a mile or so behind the front. Clearings and meadows have become commonplace and large, jagged boulders lay scattered about green grass. Enormous mountains loom all around, appearing and vanishing behind low, rolling clouds.

        “I think so,” Sweetie answers as the lightest of misty showers begins to descend. “I don’t see any rifles, and that tank hasn’t moved at all.”

        “When did that last column move through?” Scootaloo asks with a pencil set in her teeth.

        I furrow my brow and mutter, “Maybe five minutes ago?”

        She hums. “OK. I’m thinking it’s steady – every ten minutes.”

        “Yeah,” I agree before crunching into a mouthful of oats. I pan my crosshairs across a road running right next to a concrete bunker from which an antenna pokes out. A still tank sits idle in the grass next to it. We lie at the edge of a treeline a fair distance away, performing reconnaissance before making a move.

        “Do you want to hit it after the next one passes?” Sweetie suggests.

        “Mm-mm,” I swallow and sigh. “We’ll see what we can see – just watch for a while.”

        Sweetie nods.

        I lightly sniff and shuffle underneath a layer of camouflage wrap. It’s still itchy, but it’s warm. I take my eye from the glass of my scope and gently rub it with the back of my hoof. Staring too long into that thing gets mighty uncomfortable, too. A couple birds flutter overhead and the rain lets up.

        “There’s the next line,” Scootaloo mutters.

        I peer through the glass and observe eight dark green tanks rumbling past the radio array. These are a lot bulkier than anything we’ve already seen, though. I compare them with the parked vehicle. Bigger, for sure. A far shorter gun barrel, too, but very wide. I reckon that thing packs a wallop.

        “Hey, Scoots,” I speak up. “Write down in the log or somethin’ that there are new tanks around. They’re fat and got a big ol’ gun.”

        “On it.”

        Sweetie pipes up, “Everypony probably knows about them already, Apple Bloom. Onions can’t just make new tanks out of the blue.”

        “You don’t know that, Sweetie,” I answer, panning my crosshairs along the line. “How do you know that they don’t got some kind of crazy teleportation abilities or some such?”

        “If that were true they would have just showed up in Canterlot seven months ago. We wouldn’t even be here.”

        “They got that fancy magical-radio-spell-matrix-thingamabob, though. Ain’t nopony seen that before.”

        “Das twoo,” Scoots mumbles through the pencil.

        Sweetie casts her a sidelong glance and then looks back to me. “What about the artillery?”

        I roll my eyes. “We saw that our first night out, Sweetie. You know – way out in the distance? We didn’t know exactly what it was but we knew it was real big and real scary to be lighting up brighter than Rainbow Dash during cider season. We just didn’t experience it personal-like, that’s all.”

        “Oh,” Sweetie clicks her tongue. 

“Eeyup.”

The convoy crawls across the clearing and enters the forest.

“I really got to get a detailed assessment of the enemy arsenal next time we see Twilight.”

        I give a tired sigh. “The only way she’s gonna be able to provide a detailed assessment is if we perform this here reconnaissance, Sweetie.”

        “Yeah,” Scootaloo spits the pencil out, “this is the first time we’ve been able to get a good look at what they have. And what they have is pretty awesome, all things considered.”

        She shifts her fingers in and out of her orange hoof. “I mean, not as awesome as us, but still cool.”

        “That’s what kind of worries, me.” Sweetie mumbles.

        “And how so?” I ask as the tank column finally rolls out of sight. “Log that the only unicorn we saw was leading the column, Scoots!”

        “You got it!”

        “Just that we’re moving too quickly,” Sweetie explains. “Given what we’ve seen, I think that the Royal Guard should have been 
overwhelmed in a matter of weeks.”

        “They only had those antique guns and cannons…” Scootaloo reminds us.

        “Exactly. They held out for a couple of months, though. Against tanks and artillery being coordinated via the radio spell matrix, no less! Twilight and her ponies had time enough to build our own tanks and guns based on what the Union had.”

        “So you’re worried that they’re still one hoofstep ahead?” I ask.

        “I’m sure of it, Apple Bloom. Suddenly we’re on equal terms and pushing into enemy territory?” She shakes her head. “You said it yourself – we don’t even know what Princess Cadence and her Night Mares have seen down south. We don’t know what we’re trotting into, but I think it’s a trap.”

        “Ah reckon that the princesses – with all their advisors and stuff – have run through everything a million times over,” I reassure her. “Just stay focused on the mission, Sweetie. There ain’t nothin’ we can do now, right? We’ll talk with Twi or someone up the chain soon. First we got to weaken the Onions enough to make a hole, OK?”

        She sighs and settles under her camouflage wrap.

        “One tree at a time, Sweetie. It’s mighty foolish to take on the whole orchard at once.”

        Another tank column eventually passes – ten of the normal kind. Yet another unicorn sits in the top hatch in the lead tank. All the other commanders are earth ponies.

        Interesting. I'm thinking Twi was onto something after all, what with unicorns being the leadership.

        I take another look at the group of ponies sitting next to the array. They’re playing dice or something atop a small table. All earth ponies, there. 

The rain once again begins to lazily fall as yet another tank column rolls by. I munch on some more oats.

The door to the array suddenly slams open and a white unicorn mare in crisp black uniform storms out. She shouts something at the ponies and flips the table, sending them scurrying into the tank. One seems to be too slow and she outright tosses him atop the turret.

        Ouch.

        She settles into the hatch and the machine rumbles to life and storms down the road toward the front.

        Mighty interesting.

        “Unicorn leadership.” Scootaloo mutters.

        “Agreed.” Sweetie concurs.

        “Get ready, y’all,” I mutter. “We’re going to nail it.”

        “That’s a lot of open ground, Apple Bloom.” Sweetie cautions.

        “We’ll be fine. Ain’t no patrol. They’ll never see us comin’.”

        “We’ll go after the next convoy. In and out.” Scootaloo adds.

        “Yeah.” I pull the wrap about my neck like a hood and rise to a crouch.

Scootaloo and Sweetie secure their packs and cradle their weapons. A faint roar and a multitude of clattering treads echo through the forest and the next column finally rolls into view. Every tank services passengers this time around. I roll my neck and shoulders and flex my black metal fingers in and out of their ports.

I flick my ears at the sound of laughter. Conversations.

One of them embraces another. Are they scared?

They surely are – they’re ponies. No matter what they done, they’re still ponies.

Ponies get scared.

Monsters don’t feel fear, though.

I’m still scared. I'm always scared.

That enemy unicorn back at the camp was right terrified of Scoots.

I bet the ponies in Quarry were scared, too.

I grip my gun a little tighter.

We’re all still ponies.

We all still feel.

Even Union ponies.

I still fear. That counts for something, I reckon, but I also am something to be feared.

No. No.

Somepony.

I’m somepony to be feared.

I am still a pony.

…

I shakily exhale. “Y’all still get to  thinkin’, sometimes?”

Sweetie looks to me and shakes her head. “It’s not weakness, Apple Bloom.”

I scoff, nearly rolling my eyes. 

“How? Thinkin’ll make you hesitate.”

        “Listen,” she faces me, “Scootaloo and I were talking last night. Thinking is what makes us pony. Don’t lose that, Apple Bloom. Even after what we’ve seen – that’s not weakness.”

“That’s how we know we’re still OK.” Scootaloo adds. “What sometimes gets at me is wondering if they’re all bad. They’re obviously misguided, but… In the end that sort of thing doesn’t matter up here.”

        “We just need to get through this, and then we can go home.” Sweetie gives a defeated shrug and her eyes become unfocused as she looks upon the trail of tanks.

        “...We’ve probably killed a lot of good ponies, Apple Bloom. It’s OK to feel sad. But don't forget that they killed a lot of ponies, too.”

“Don’t make it a vendetta, though.” Scootaloo warns. “That’s how you lose yourself. That’s how you lose control.”

Her purple eyes spark with intensity at that. I nod. She should know, after all.

She glances at Sweetie and smirks. “I think that it’s the unicorns. I think they’re the real monsters, with their freaky magic and manipulative ways.”

I chuckle as Sweetie shakes her head with a small smile.

“I kind of do, though. The ones I’ve seen are hardcore. Back in the Valley I was about to scratch one – he was totally fearless, even then. He almost looked glad to die. I’ve never seen anything like it, or since.”

        The convoy begins to disappear behind the trees.

“It don’t matter none if they’re unicorn or not, Scoots.” I look her straight in the eye. “You waste him – understand?”

She smiles. “That’s all there is to it, Apple Bloom. I know it’s hard – it should be hard – but I know that you have my back when we’re out here. You won’t hesitate.”

“Get ready.” Sweetie mutters.

Scootaloo nods at me and settles like a jackrabbit ready to bolt off.

“I got your back.” I mutter.

        “On my go.”

I grip my weapon tightly as the sun begins to shine on the forest. The last tank finally disappears behind the trees.

“Up,” Sweetie mutters.

Wait.

Something is out there.

Glint?

Definitely reflective.

A rock?

Too bright. Not natural.

Where?

Far – in the trees. Past the array way on the other side of the clearing. Three hundred trots, maybe.

Glass?

Pointing at us.

“STOP!” I scream.

A tiny flash.

Scoots turns to me with wide, confused violet eyes. A puff of dust explodes from her vest and she collapses to the grass as a sharp *CRACK* blasts through the trees. Sweetie lands hard on her belly and rolls behind a trunk, gasping for air.

“Scootaloo?" She shrieks. "SCOOTS?!"

Her tree erupts in a shower of chippings and the forest is again flooded with the piercing *CRACK* of a long rifle. She cries out, holding her muzzle as blood flows from numerous slashes. A bullet hisses by and carries the crackling echo through the forest again.

We need to move.

“Sweetie!” I shout.

She whines loudly through pursed lips, half of her face bloodied and covered in wood fragments.

“I’m gonna grab Scootaloo – stay put!”

She nods and bares her teeth, hissing aloud before finally crying out.

Scootaloo hasn’t moved or said a word.

My trembling hoof inches forward.

Just a little…

*CRACK*

I snap my head back as the round screams by my head.

        “Come on!” I shout.

The air is suddenly sent into a frenzy of *snaps* as the ponies in the array building join in.

I have to get to her.

I make to lean out again but flatten my ears to another shrieking long rifle round.

NO! 

I ram the back of my head into the tree trunk and sob aloud. Scootaloo’s going to bleed away not two hoofsteps from me.

I look to her still form.

“Scootaloo,” I silently sob amid the gunfire.

Sweetie has curled into a ball and nurses her face as best as she can.

Not like this.

“It’s not ending like this!” I wail aloud and hold my rifle to my face.

I forcefully chamber a bullet and shut my mouth as tears continue to roll down my cheeks.

I'm so scared. 

With trembling hooves I undo my bow and let my mane hang free.

“Swe-" I choke and finally shout. "Sweetie!”

The enemy rifle fires again.

She cracks the eye not covered in blood open at me.

“Grab Scoots on my go!”

She lowers her head and rises to a crouch. 

I flick the tattered pink cloth up high and roll in the opposite direction, bringing my gun to bear.

*CRACK*

There…

My long rifle sends a bullet flying at the flash. A great puff of dust and grass marks its impact and a glinting tube is sent flying. *shick-clack* I pull the bolt and watch carefully. The other ponies have stopped their assault at the sound of incoming fire and are shouting at one another. Nopony makes to retrieve the long rifle. 

I turn back around the trunk and look at Sweetie. She holds a shivering – thankfully breathing – Scootaloo in her hooves.

I sputter out the most anxious breath I’ve ever held. “Are you OK?”

She slowly nods and takes a long breath, shutting her purple eyes. I turn around and aim again where the enemy sharp-shooter was. Something is moving out there. The shape of a pony emerges from the grass and picks up the rifle, but just as I make to bring him down yet another long rifle – Equestrian – screams across the meadow.

The pony falls and shots snap across the grass. The ponies from the array shout and make to retaliate but are swiftly cut down by the treeline that houses the tank trail. The last one hunkers behind a boulder, but a green, bipedal mare dashes from the brush and is almost immediately on him. She takes him to the ground and a blade glints in the sun before disappearing within his chest.

        The Night Mare rises and pans her long rifle around before looking back at me with golden eyes. Despite everything I can’t help but smile. 
Heartstrings waves and slings her weapon. The other two ponies rounding out Nightmare Five emerge from the trees and gallop to the array. I crouch down to Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. Sweetie continues to whimper behind her hoof and loudly sniffs.

“I’m OK,” she croaks as her horn lights up in a green aura. “Just stings.”

Scootaloo wipes her eyes and looks up to me.

“It hit my pack,” she whispers and forcibly gulps, shivering something fierce. "It hit my pack..."

I crouch and hug her close.

“Ah’m just glad you’re OK,” I whisper.

She clings back hard and with fingers outstretched. Sweetie shuffles and joins in, and for a small while we simply sit and feel the warmth of each others embrace as the rain returns.

Sweetie leans back and whimpers as a particularly large shard of wood is removed from her lip and hisses in the effort to seal the wound with her magic. The bleeding stops, but a nasty scar remains.

My fur stands on end as the array suddenly explodes and forcefully rocks the ground. I flick my ears back up and look to the fiery ruin and then to three ponies trotting up to us. 

“Are you girls OK?” Lyra rests on her haunches.

“Thanks to y’all,” I look to the other ponies.

        “We heard the long gun go off and came running. I’ve only seen one other. Caught you off-guard?”

        I look back to Scoots and nervously chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say it did.”

        “Hi, Sweetie. Hey, Scootaloo.” She smiles at the two of them.

        They respond in kind and Lyra looks back toward the array with a frown. Her ears swivel, some.

        “Time to move, Crusaders.”

        Nightmare Five helps us to our hooves and we move deeper into the trees as another convoy roars into the meadow.
        
--

        Six pairs of hooves thunder through the brush as the sounds of the front grow ever louder. The Equestrians have seized the initiative under silent skies fast turning dark under Wonderbolt storm clouds.

        "That last array crippled enemy communications right up to Ironwood!" Lyra shouts. "We need to hit the last two before everypony catches up!"

        "What if we don't?" Sweetie calls out.

        Nightmare Five's Daisy rounds a tree and shouts, "Then we lose the momentum! They're relocating the arty, so this is our chance to make as much ground as we can!"

        The light brown earth pony flips her white mane and raises her voice. "We're going in fast and hard! Look alive!"

        The other Night Mare, a dark pegasus named Jade, takes the lead. "Up on me!" She shouts.

        I lick my lips and get set - we can't be far. A deep, guttural sound flares up behind us. I look back to a dark shape speeding through the forest, lighting up the gloom with twin shoots of flame spitting from exhaust pipes.

        "TANK!" Scootaloo screeches.

        "Go wide!" Lyra shouts. "Go wide!"

        We break from one another, giving the machine a wide berth. Despite its size it manages to quickly navigate around the trunks, but it dare not rotate the turret lest it snag. I run alongside the clattering treads, struggling to maintain my pace as the ground furiously shakes. The top hatch flies open and a bright blue unicorn mare appears, pointing a gun right at me.

        I yelp and duck as she fires, getting dangerously close to the rattling treads. I rear to my hind legs, extend my fingers and latch firmly onto the metal, hitching a ride just in case the driver needs to flatten me to get around the next tree. A low whistle and numerous thunder claps boom from behind, and I look through my mess of whipping mane up at five pegasi zipping through the trees, each trailing a plume of black clouds set alight by forks of lightning. They wear dark blue suits and tan vests under a metal winged contraption, sporting a pair of very deadly-looking guns.

        I think I can hear Scootaloo whooping for joy amid the racket.

        A single rainbow-maned pegasus takes lead of the formation and I cry out as she fires bright multi-colored streaks into the tank, eliciting a shout from the commander and setting the engine aflame. The wonderbolt flies in close, jaw slightly agape. She lifts a pair of cracked goggles to reveal deep magenta irises filled with disbelief, a touch of awe and the slightest hint of sorrow.

        She mouths my name.

        I look ahead and wave frantically to Rainbow, who finally looks herself and very nearly plows into a tree. She pulls up hard, disappearing into the canopy. I rip my hoof from the side of the tank and plant it further up, clambering atop the turret just as it rolls into a clearing. At the other end of the grass is a radio installation surrounded by thick logs. Bright yellow flashes send hissing rounds our way, and I duck low as I make my way to the front of the machine toward a single hatch. 

        I punch my hind leg through the metal and with a grunt rip it clean off its hinges. The earth pony inside can only look up to a metal claw latching onto his screaming face. I squeeze the pads and feel his hooves claw desperately at my hind leg, but one hard twist renders him motionless. I leap from the machine into a dizzying mess of grass and dirt. The out-of-control tank roars onward straight into the bunker, violently exploding and forcing my stomach to empty itself at the shock wave.

        So much for breakfast.

        I loudly groan and slowly lift my head from the bile, wiping my mouth and spitting as best I can in the midst of a coming headache.

        Lyra kneels at my side and rolls me to my back. "Are you OK?"

        "My he- " I cough and manage to croak, "my head hurts..."

        She grins widely and sits me up, lighting her horn in a golden aura and bringing a soothing wave of magic through my body. I sigh in relief and blink away the lingering ache.

        "Lyra!" Jade calls out, "We need to move!"

        Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle slide in from a gallop.

        "That was awesome!" Scootaloo gushes as she helps me up.

        Sweetie offers my rifle. "You good, Apple Bloom?"

        "Ah'm good." I nod. "Thanks, Lyra."

        She nods and warns, "There'll be more. We got to get to the next installation pronto."

        With that we trot into the trees on the heels of Jade and Daisy,  breaking into a gallop in the dark shade of the forest. The flight of Wonderbolts makes one final pass, soaring high into the clouds.

        "That's one way to take care of an array!" Daisy shouts with a smile.

        "Next one's straight ahead!" Sweetie calls out under a clap of thunder.

        "Rush it! We're out of time!" Lyra orders. "Apple Bloom - stick with me!"

        The mint green pony slides to a halt at the tree line and brings her gun forth.

        "Up!" She shouts, using her augments to claw her way up one of the towering trunks.

        I follow as the other Night Mares dash toward the array, shifting to their hind legs when a group of ponies emerge from a bunker. Lyra jams her hind claws into the trunk with a crack and is able to lean upright. She brings her rifle up and almost immediately fires. I point the pads of my rear hooves and ram my legs into the thick bark just like her, finding support and bringing the glass of the scope to my eye with my forehooves.

        I quickly send a bullet right through the neck of a unicorn mare, who viciously claws at the wound as she collapses into another pony's hooves. The others are quick to duck down behind a row of logs.

        "Just like that." Lyra mutters. "Equestrian suppression."

        I flap my ears as she shoots again, clipping the very edge of a log just above a dark helmet. The four Night Mares all but dive behind the wall and a flurry of distant snaps echo through the trees. Sweetie runs to the concrete bunker, plants the explosives and joins the other four in the gallop back to Lyra and I.

        Wait.

        Movement.

        I shift my cross-hairs back to the array where a tiny orange unicorn filly dressed in the same black uniform as the tank commander levitates a gun.

It falls to the ground.

Her large blue eyes glisten and a trail of tears are clearly visible over her distraught face as she beholds the dead ponies behind the log wall. The forest lights up in a violet flash and a deafening crackle of thunder rips across the sky. Her mouth moves in a silent scream and she scrambles behind the wall.

"At the door!" I shout.

I can't.

Not again.

"What?" Lyra mutters. "Apple Bloom - there's nothing there. It's gone!" Her voice rises in alarm.

I can. I see her.

I can see her, clear as day. She's curled into a tiny ball next to a pale orange corpse. The unicorn I shot. She nuzzles the pony's mane and her mouth moves in heaping sobs as she buries her face in the body. She looks around in distress, lips quivering. Her eyes finally settle on me. She coughs out a sob and lightly shakes her head. 

Her blue eyes burn into me and she mouths three words.

"A pony." I whisper.

She lightly shakes her head and asks again.

"A pony!" I mutter. "Ah'm a pony!"

Her shoulders droop and she shakes her head again, shuffling back on her rump with eyes wide in terror.

"Ah am!" I shout. "Ah am a pony!"

Again, the filly shakes her head and she shuts her eyes tight.

"AH AM!" I shriek. "Mah name is Apple Bloom! Ah'm from Ponyville! Ah grew up there with Sweetie and Scootaloo - we're all ponies!"

The filly flattens her ears and turns away from me.

"Yes we are!" I scream at her. She doesn't respond. 

I don’t even hesitate. The cross hairs align and I squeeze the trigger as hard as I can. Her tiny body jerks back from the impact and a cloud of dust erupts around her. Her wide blue eyes blink quickly and she gasps for air as her hooves clutch her chest. She looks at me again.

What are you?

        "Apple Bloom?!" Sweetie's voice resounds in my head. I blink and am met with the smoking ruins of the array. No bunker. No log wall. No unicorn filly.

        I take my eye from the scope and look to Sweetie. She's climbed the tree and has a hoof on my shoulder.

        "You're a pony." She mutters and holds me close.

        "You always will be." She mutters. "We need you, though. We're not done. OK?"

        She releases me.

        I nod, feeling fine. Is that a good thing? Sweetie and I settle on the ground, where Scootaloo waits alone.

        Another crack of thunder booms through the trees. Tank and gunfire follows.

        Scootaloo lightly punches my shoulder and smiles softly.

        "Five went ahead to Ironwood. This'll be a big one. Like the Valley, Jade says. You good?"

        I nod. "Ah'm good." I need to be. For them.

        I bite my lip and look at the grass. "Just saw another young 'un."

        Sweetie and Scootaloo exchange looks.

        "Young ‘un?" Scootaloo inquires.

        I nod and think back to the unicorn colt.

        "Our second hit - in the rain. There was another little unicorn. I shot him once but couldn't do it. Sweetie finished it."

        Scoots looks to her. She makes a movement. Probably to indicate where she shot him, I reckon.

        "Apple Bloom." Sweetie softly mutters. Scoots reaches over and touches her.

        After a quick pause she exhales as if in defeat. "We got to go."

        Yeah. Yeah, we do.

        I nod and take a deep breath. "Come on."

        I lead the way through the trees toward the front. Numerous explosions rattle the ground, but only a few artillery shells howl across the battlefield. Union ponies don't know where to put them without the spell matrix. The Night Mares did good.

        Thunder rips across the sky as the trees are bathed in a flash of violet lightning. The shaking in the ground grows more intense. Individual rifles and tanks can be picked out amid the chaos. Violent flashes light up the trees from straight ahead. We emerge at the treeline, beholding the front.

        The massive front.
        
        The horrifying front.

        So many tanks.

        So many cannons.

        So many ponies. I don't think I've ever seen so many ponies in one place, before.

        All fighting. All dying.

        Wonderbolts shriek over the town of Ironwood as rattling yellow streaks soar into the sky in an attempt to shoot them down. Bright red and yellow beams ceaselessly fly both to and from the buildings as the Equestrians slowly, but surely, roll onward.

        Brothers hold one another as a shell screams toward them.

        Sisters sigh in relief as they are spared for just a little while longer.

        A mare just out of fashion academy furiously claws her way through the mud, both of her hind legs tucked safely in her pack.

        A stallion looks back to his squad-mate, unsure of how to react to the gaping hole where his face used to be.

        A Night Mare lifts a pony clean off of her hoofs and throws her under the treads of a tank.

        A crew scrambles from a machine bathed in flame, unable to scream through charred throats.

        A fresh squad leaps from their ride.

        A medic finally stops the bleeding.

        A lunar princess finally weeps.

        A dying, orange filly with wide blue eyes mouths four words.

.

.

.

        "It doesn't end." I answer her. 

.

.

.

        How can it?


End Part II



. . .

> VII  (?)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Night Mares




VII.

September

Year 6 of the Harmonic Age

They all got died.




Night Mares