The Civil War is over. Now, as darker clouds gather on the horizon and over Equestria, Night Shift takes some respite to answer a simple question.
An entry for the 2021 Equestria at War Write Off
The Civil War is over. The Night stands triumphant over the Sun.
As the Imperial war-machine kicks into high gear and Equestria readies for the final fight against the changeling threat, its citizens try to enjoy a fragile tranquillity and a return to "normalcy".
And now that the guns are silent, Night Shift must deal with her own aftermath of the victory.
Her mother had a word for it. Stage fright, that’s what she called it. Granted, there was no stage to speak of, and she wasn’t a performer either, yet the signs were all there.
Dizziness?
Butterflies in the stomach?
Weak knees?
Yup, she had them all.
With a careful head turn, Night Shift took a quick peak around. It really didn’t help.
The Manehattan Courthouse was absolutely bursting with ponies. Most were onlookers, some rather well-dressed actually, and would thus witness today hearings from the newly-built upper gallery, at least those that could pay for it. The others would have to make do with either the seats in the back of the hall, or none at all.
Meanwhile, the first rows had been claimed by the press. And by the Goddess, there were a lot of them!
It looked almost as if the entire city’s journalist body had descended there to witness today after-war trial, like a swarm of grasshoppers on a fat harvest. They had even brought multiples camera crews along, just for the event.
And all of them had their eyes on her, a thestral seated in a witness box that seemed to shrink by the moment.
Night Shift drew a deep breath. Then another one, just in case. Was it just an impression or had her uniform’s collar suddenly tightened around her neck? She resisted the urge to give it a pull.
Oh come on! You’ve faced far worse and now you’re scared!? Get your shit together girl, you’ve got this. Thirty minutes at most and then you’re out of here.
That seemed to ease her worries a little bit, and she stood a little straighter in her seat, the rim of her leathery wings brushing against the chairback.
“Ma’am, please state your full name and rank for the record.” The prosecutor was a unicorn stallion, smartly dressed in a business suit and tie. Judging from the lines on his face and around his eyes, he was well past his forties.
She nodded. “Night Shift, Lieutenant, 2nd Regiment, 12th Onhooves Division.”
The prosecutor rose from his seat and began pacing before her as he spoke.
“From what I understand, lieutenant, you took part in the Battle of Bales, correct?”
“I did, sir. I fought there and all the way up to Whillyapolis.” She shifted in her seat. “I got a nasty scrape there though, and I was out of the fight during the push on Canterlot.”
“I see.” He came to a stop before her. “Would you please describe your role before the war for the court?”
“Objection!” the defense counsel, pegasus mare, cried out as she rose from her seat, both forelegs planted firmly on the wooden desk.
“On what ground?”
“Relevance, your Honour,” the mare explained. “The lieutenant’s experience has little to do with the accusations levelled against my client.”
“Your Honour,” the prosecutor said evenly, “The lieutenant’s experience is relevant, as it gives context to the accusations levelled against General Soarin.” He never turned to acknowledge his colleague.
The Lunar Magistrate, an earth pony, was surrounded on both sides by four lower judges. There were a few glances exchanged, a shake of the head or two and then she said, “Overruled. But see to keep it brief.”
“Thank you, Your Honour. Ma’am, I will repeat my question. Would you please describe briefly your role for the court?”
“Of course.” She cleared her throat. “Well, to put it very simply, I joined the EEEE quite early, mostly under my pa’s recommendation, even though he had always been more of a … militant kind of stallion. You could say that looking for troubles runs in the family. From there, I quickly went to the Night Watchers and then, once the shit hi-”
She stopped, chuckling nervously. “Oh, sorry. I mean, once the war began, I volunteered myself for the Imperial Army. Of course, that wasn’t the official name back then.”
“From what I understand, you quickly made it to sergeant, correct?”
She shrugged. “One of the officers said I had an attitude for command, so they put me in charge of a platoon. The alternative was a Chiropterran officer, and those guys were a bit creepy to be honest.”
“How did you receive your promotion to lieutenant?”
“My CO was killed in a Solarist ambush during our fight in Bales. I grabbed all the mares and stallions still alive and lead a counterattack. From there, I guess I just became the de-facto leader of Delta Company. My promotion came a bit later.”
“Thank you. Would you please describe your experience in Bales to the court?”
Night Shift hesitated. “Well … there’s not much to describe, really. The 12th went on the line to halt the Solarist advance. Eventually, we did.”
“Your foes were the members of the Equestrian Army and Royal Guard, correct?”
She shook her head. “No, not just them. The regulars were somewhat honourable, if you can say that, and most of the fights in Bales with them were quite straightforward. But the others?” Her voice hardened.
“Those psychos would go out of their way just to kill any thestral. Adults or colts, stallions or mares, it really did not matter to them. Heck, it didn’t matter if those were thestrals in the first place. I think the words used were ‘those damn bat-friends from Stalliongrad’, or something like that.”
“Are you referring perchance to the Solar Militia for National Defense?”
She nodded. “That’s the name they went for, yeah.”
“How did you defeat them?”
“According to the prisoners we took, they often butted heads with the regulars. The Army did not have the stomach to do what was asked of them. So, one night, we punched a hole through their lines in the suburbs, which were pretty thin by then, and hit them in the back with our machine gun company. Most surrendered once they saw that we had them on all sides.”
“What about the Militia? Did you take them prisoners too?” the stallion asked.
“No.”
There was a pause as a heavy silence fell into the room. A few audible gasps came from upper gallery, soon drowned out by the scribbling of pencils and rattling typewriters.
Night Shift could feel the sweat on the back of her neck. She had actually said it, hadn’t she?
“Why not, lieutenant?” The prosecutor seemed to be the only pony unperturbed by the statement.
Night Shift felt her mouth suddenly drying up. For one single, unending moment, images flashed before her. The metallic smell of blood flooded her nostrils. Pulse quickening, she struggled to suppress the emotions swelling inside her.
Was it fear? No, no, not that. It was much stronger. Anger, a surge of righteous fury that she hadn’t felt in a long time, since the civil war had ended.
Another image, this time even more vivid, played before her eyes. She could feel and hear everything: the cries of the wounded; the rattling and barking of rifles and machines guns; the flames’ heat as the Town Hall burned across the street.
The adrenaline surging through her veins, as she plunged her bayonet through a Solarist stallion’s throat and ripped it open.
As calmy as possible, she continued. “Most of the times, they simply refused to surrender. They would fight with the same ferocity of cornered diamond dogs, with a fanaticism to put even a Longswordian to shame. And they would not hesitate to just rush us with knives or homemade explosives, once the bullets run out. I’ve lost one of my corporals that way.”
“Counsellor, I’m not seeing how recalling the lieutenant experience has any relevance with the case,” the Magistrate stated.
“I’m getting to it, Your Honour.” His horn lighted up and he produced a document from the stack of paper on the evidence’s desk.
“Lieutenant, are you aware of Order 77?” he casually asked, the document now hovering before him.
Night Shift nodded. “All of us were, sir.” She had to keep herself from hissing the answer. “Our night units intercepted many of their runners, so we had a pretty clear idea.”
“Can you please explain to the court what the implementation of Order 77 meant in the Battle of Bales?”
“Objection, hearsay” the defendant said.
“Your Honour, everything the lieutenant is saying has already been presented to the evidence as official military documentation. This is not hearsay.”
“Overruled.” This time the Magistrate did not consult with his lower piers. She turned toward the defendant with a deep frown. “Consultant, your client’s defense does not excuse you from abuse of procedure.” The pegasus mare sagged a little in her seat.
“Do I need to repeat my question, lieutenant?”
Night Shift shook her head. “No, there’s no need.” She took a deep breath. “Order 77 authorized the regular army and its armed auxiliaries to persecute, arrest and detain all those that posed a concrete and tangible threat to the security of Equestria and its harmonic principles.”
“In Bales, that meant hit squads roaming the suburbs. Offices and department stores turned into holding places and torture rooms for suspects. Schools emptied and used as improvised tribunals and grounds of summarily executions.”
“I see,” the stallion said with a nod. “Was there a distinction between thestrals and non?”
“If there was, the orders we intercepted didn’t mention it. Chancellor Neighsay and his Cabinet of National Emergency did not seem to care who was being strung up from the lampposts.”
“Lieutenant, from what I understand, the military forces involved in Bales on the Solarist side were all under General Soarin’s command, correct?”
The prosecutor was again pacing back and forth. His demeanour was relaxed though, radiating an almost supernatural aura of calm, as if he owned the place.
“That’s right.”
“Do you believe then that General Soarin gave his tacit approval to these atrocities?”
Night Shift nodded. “Undoubtedly. General Soarin was perfectly aware of all those acts, and yet he not only gave the order to not interfere with them but went so far as to assign regular forces to assist these pacifications, as his orders called them.”
She stopped for a moment, her eyes wandering toward the defense’s table. There, beside his consultant and still dressed in the old pale-brown uniform of Army officers, was General Soarin, once second-in-command of the now defunct Wonderbolts.
He sat stiffly in his chair, eyes trained firmly forward. He had lost some weight during his detention, and he still wore restraints around his wings and forelegs.
The thestral could feel the blood boiling in her veins. The asshole could at least have the decency to look at her.
And to think me and sis always looked forward to the Wonderbolts summer’s performance!
“General Soarin is complicit, if not responsible, of the slaughter of Bales thestrals’ rights groups and the local EEEE chapter,” she continued, venom slipping in her voice. “Those under his command targeted unarmed ponies and thestrals in a deliberate campaign of state terror, without much concern for their so vaunted Harmonic values! He’s a fucking disgrace to the uniform he wears!” she spat.
“Objection!” the defendant again cried out. “My client’s moral character is not being questioned, but only his alleged actions are! I request that the lieutenant’s last statement be considered void as baseless!”
The Magistrate gave her a pensive frown, then nodded. “Very well, sustained. Lieutenant, this court remind you to refrain yourself from speculations. General Soarin is on trial for his alleged action during the Daybreaker’s Ascension, whether his role in it constitutes treason and whether his conduct during the war lead to the unjustified death of Equestrian citizens.”
There were loud grumbles coming from the gallery and the rest of the room. They quickly ceased once the Magistrate brought down the gavel with a loud smack.
“Consultant, do you have further questions for your witness?”
The stallion gave a polite shake of head. “No, thank you, Your Honour. I’m done for now.” He turned toward the defense before walking back to his seat. “Your witness.”
The pegasus mare rose and approached Night Shift with a newly mastered air of professionalism.
“Lieutenant, from what I understand, you used to be quite active before the war. Politically speaking, I mean.”
“Objection, relevance” the prosecutor immediately said.
“I can’t say I was,” Night Shift answered regardless. “Unless you consider joining up with a union being politically active.” She noticed the prosecutor arching a brow at her. Was she supposed to wait for the Magistrate answer? Maybe, but she didn’t see what harm could come from that question.
“So you were part of a union then?”
“Yes, ma’am. The East Coast Railway Union,” she said, not without some pride. “The job was hard, but those are six years of my life I would never trade away for anything.”
“Ah, interesting.” Her eyes glinted for a moment. “I’m sure you’re well aware of the Markzist influence within its ranks. It’s not like it was some sort of secret.”
“Tell me, Lieutenant,” she said as she produced a few documents sheets from her desk, “Is it true that you were arrested back in 1005 during a strike?”
Night Shift’s eyes narrowed on the mare. She had an inkling of where she was trying to get, and she didn’t like it at all.
“Yes, it’s true,” she admitted. “The company had decided a general cut on wages, as well as laying off a few dozens of our fellow workers. We protested and once the scabs failed at their job, they just called the MMPD on us.”
“Oh, I see. Although I must admit I’m rather confused right now, Lieutenant.” She held up the papers in one hoof so that the entire room could see them. The one at the front had a clear, blue-inked stamp belonging to the Manehattan Metropolitan Police Department.
“According to this report, which was written after said incident, the local department claim that during the operation they found much, and I quote, subversive material and literature, of clear and evident Markzist and Stalliongradian influence. They then proceeded to list the names of stallions and mares who had said material with them.”
Night Shift had to summon all her self-control to not grind her teeth.
She’s just baiting you, girl. Keep calm. Don’t give her a chance to get under your skin and you’ll b-
“Are you a Markzist, lieutenant?”
She froze in her seat. The question, even if delivered in that calm tone of voice, felt like a rear kick in her guts. Her lungs felt suddenly empty.
“I… I-I beg your pardon?”
“My apologies, I’ll repeat my question.” She stepped closer to the witness box. “Are you, whether in the past or the present, a follower of the political doctrines expressed by Caramel Marks and his works?”
“Please remember that you’re under oath.” The shadow of a smile formed up on her lips for a brief moment.
“Objection, relevance” the prosecutor snapped, more firmly this time.
“Sustained. Consultant, if the line of questioning has no pertinence with the case at hoof, we suggest moving on. This court is not interested in political affiliation.”
The pegasus mare nodded, backing off slightly. “Of course, of course. My apologies.”
Night Shift was about to draw a breath she hadn’t realized she was keeping, but stopped just short. Aside from the fact that it would have been quite visible, the defender still held that air of smugness around her.
“Just a couple more question, lieutenant, if you don’t mind. What uniform are you currently wearing?”
The thestral tilted her head to the side. “The one of Her Majesty Imperial Army.”
Aside from the dark-blue colour and brown leather straps, it wasn’t much different from the one worn by General Soarin. The only clear differentiation between the two was the rank. And the White Moon sewn on her shoulders, of course.
“I do believe that there is also an oath upon receiving said uniform, correct?” Night Shift nodded tentatively.
“Would you mind reciting it?” As she saw the puzzled look on her face, she added, “Humour me, lieutenant. I’m sure there’s no harm in that.”
She half-expected the prosecutor to interrupt her again, but that didn’t happen. Perhaps he was just curious as she was to see what other scheme she had concocted this time.
Night Shift had to pause a moment to remember it. She felt as if she had pronounced those words a lifetime ago in a deserted Manehattan public park, together with a hundred young volunteers that would become her family for the next six months. It had been a very sombre, almost rushed, ceremony and yet those words came back in a moment after a brief inner search.
“I do solemnly swear true faith and allegiance to Princess Luna, rightful ruler of Equestria, and Nightmare Moon, Empress of the Night. From this day on, I will serve Them faithfully and honestly against Their enemies. I swear to obey Their commands and those of the officers appointed over me.”
“Thank you, lieutenant,” the consultant interrupted her. “Do you believe, in your opinion, that a similar kind of oath would have been required in the Equestrian Army, back when it still existed? The loyalty to the Princess, I mean.”
Night Shift shrugged. “I … I guess so.”
“And who was the Princess of Equestria in December 1007?”
“Princess Luna, of course.”
The pegasus mare picked up a copy of Order 77 from the evidence’s table and handed it to her.
“Lieutenant, would you please read for the court the first paragraph of the order that you and your soldiers intercepted from the enemy?”
Frowning, Night Shift did so. “The following is an official directive from the Cabinet of National Emergency, acting under the benign authority of our beloved sovereignty, Princess Celestia, Warden of the Sun and Most Serene Monarch of Equestria, to all field commanders under the jurisd-”
“Tell me, Lieutenant,” the mare interrupted her, “what is a pony under arms supposed to do when there are two alicorns claiming to be the rightful ruler of Equestria? Whose orders is he to follow? And most importantly, who is the enemy?”
Night Shift blinked once. Then a second time. And then she finally snapped.
“Who is the enemy?!” she snarled, her leathery wings flaring to the sides as she rose from her seat. “You may haven’t noticed it, miss, but that question has been answered already! Thousands of our fellow ponies from all the four tribes, many of them friends of mine, are no longer here because they gave an answer to that very question!”
“Indeed it has, lieutenant,” the consultant said, unfazed by her outburst. “The question has been answered, hasn’t it? The tyrant Daybreaker is no more, long live the Princess of the Night. But you have yet to answer my question.”
“The matter of legitimacy was not settled when my client’s alleged crimes occurred. Equestria had for almost nine months two Princesses claiming to hold the rightful rule, each with a degree of legitimacy backing their claim. And between these two God-like figures, thousands upon thousands of young stallions and mare clashed and bleed over the fate of our nation.”
“So I’m going to ask you again, lieutenant. In such circumstances, who is a pony to follow as his or her rightful sovereignty? And how one determines who is a patriot and who is a traitor?”
Returning to Albion was strange. As Night Shift stepped out of the train station and into the adjacent street, she couldn’t help but notice how little things had changed in her hometown.
Then again, what change was she expecting to see? Albion had been too far from the frontlines to bear the scars that Bales and Whillyapolis, even Fillydelphia to a certain extent, still did. Aside from the new dark-and-blue banners sporting the Empress own effigy hanging from nearby lampposts and poles, everything from tallest office building to the tiniest food shop looked exactly like two years prior.
Ponies, and the occasional griffon, went around to do their business mostly on hoof or by trams. No cars though. Strict fuel rationing was still in effect and few would be able to afford those anyway.
Night Shift had half a mind to take a public transport but decided against it. And as the heavy bag across her shoulder made flying not a very safe prospect, she set off toward her destination at a brisk trot. Her home was not far.
For a moment she thought back at that whole business in Manehattan and was more than glad for it to be over. From what she had heard, things were moving smoothly along even without her. The prosecutor had said something about “keeping herself available should the need arise”, but that had been almost two weeks ago.
Soarin would get what he deserved. She frowned. Well, not really; a bullet in the back of the head and a shallow ditch would have been more appropriate. Still, the Princess had decided to give him and all the others something that resembled an actual trial. Now that the war had ended, the time for barbarism was over too, wasn’t it?
Inevitably, Night Shift recalled her heated confrontation with that bitch of a defendant. The batpony grimaced. As much as she hated to admit it, she hadn’t been able to find a satisfactory answer to her question.
Not that she doubted for a moment the righteousness of her cause, of course.
Princess Celestia had done nothing in the past thousand years; nothing when thestrals were driven by force into the mountains and southern jungles; nothing when thousands upon thousands toiled away in the factories for a meagre wage while the upper crust threw lascivious parties in Canterlot; nothing when the entire north-east starved.
And when the request for actual change, spearheaded by Her own sister no less, had come before her, Celestia had chosen to ignore it. And when the voices had become too loud, she’d resorted to violence to maintain her rule.
Night Shift scoffed.
One fucking thousand years. Leave it to a literal goddess to find a way to waste all that bloody time.
Celestia had shown to the whole of Equus her true form, Daybreaker, a demon from Tartarus itself, and glassed Canterlot rather than seeing the Lunar banner flying from the castle’s spires. She had driven her remaining supporters to the edge of fanaticism in order to stop their advance.
Night Shift grinded her teeth. So many ponies dead only to satisfy a megalomanic alicorn and her ego. When the time had come, the whole of Equestria had seen who stood for real Harmony and Friendship.
And yet, that wasn’t really enough, was it?
So many had fallen as they fought on and on for the Tyrant. So many had failed when Harmony tested them.
Was she to accept the excuse that they’d all been deceived, brainwashed even, to fight for Celestia? And if it was so, did that imply that the same thing could happen on the Lunarist’s side as well?
Night Shift shook that thought off her mind.
That’s a dangerous path you’re going down, girl. Better stop right now. You fought for thestral lives everywhere, you did your duty and you should be proud of that. Stop overthinking it.
She made a quick stop in a shop to buy a sandwich with grilled cheese. Just a couple of years ago she couldn’t have imagined stepping inside any establishment without either receiving suspicious looks or being outright asked to leave.
Now, not only she saw a thestral couple seated at the tables and eating lunch with their colts, but the unicorn mare at the counter gave her an extra one on the house.
“Consider this a thank you for your service, ma’am,” she said, grinning. Night Shift would have probably refused it, out of courtesy more than anything else, but the train ride to Albion had been long and she was starving. She dropped a tip anyway and made her exit.
She came out just in time to see a military column sped its way in the opposite direction she was going, toward the train station. Soldiers in dark-blue uniforms sat in the back of crowded transport trucks. A few glanced her way and waved. A couple mares even saluted. Grinning, Night Shift saluted them back with a raised wing, until they disappeared behind a road’s bend and out of her view.
There wasn’t much doubt where they were all going.
West. Las Pegasus probably, or maybe Vanhoover. Or Anchorage perhaps. She shook her head. May the Princess help them all if they’re going to Anchorage.
It wasn’t a secret that the North-West was getting hotter by the day. And neither was the fact that Princess Luna -or Nightmare Moon, as those weirdos from Zebrica were adamant to call her- was not going to just let the bugs march all the way to Shire unopposed. Equestria would not be a second Olenia.
Now that peace -or something like that- had been brought in the Southern Jungles and Las Pegasus had been reintegrated -almost without a fight- the big showdown with the changelings was going to occur. The question was simply who was going to strike first.
There was a loud crash, followed by the sound of glass smashing against the stone pavement. And then a cry of pain. Night Shift came to a sudden stop.
“We had warned you once, didn’t we?!” Those words were punctuated by a second explosion of glass. “And yet you’re still here!”
Night Shift looked around, her ears perked up, trying to find the source. It wasn’t hard. Her acute thestral hearing had saved her live more than once. Some distance away, to her left, tucked between two tall tenements, there was an alley.
There!
She broke into a gallop across the street, dodged a couple of pony-drawn taxies in the process, pushed her way past a group of ponies waiting at a bus stop, and narrowly avoided collision with a street vendor, all the while muttering apologies and with her bag swaying and bashing against her side.
She stopped at the alley’s mouth. There were three ponies before her, some distance away; four with the earth pony stallion on the ground. The grizzled mane and fur suggested he was around fifty at the very least. Even from the distance separating the two, she could see a nasty bruise on the side of his head.
The other three, a stallion and two mares, were the complete opposite. Young, probably in their late teens. And of course, armed with batons.
The only unicorn mare of the group swung hers around, not against the older stallion, but on the last remaining glass of a nearby shop. His shop, probably. Glittering shards of glass littered the cobblestones.
“Seems like the first warning wasn’t enough, uh? That’s what happens when you let bloody Solarists walk scot free!” the second mare snapped, kicking him in the side just as he tried to climb back on his hooves. With a pain-filled groan, he went down again.
There was a general rule in the military that you should never begin a fight when the enemy outnumbered you. Then again, her training had been more of a crash course coupled with hooves-on experience.
“Hey! You three shit-heads!” Night Shift barked in the best impression of her old platoon sergeant. Her wings flared open and her fangs flashed. “What in the bloody fuck do you think you’re doing?”
To her sheer amazement, it actually worked. Maybe it was the voice, or maybe just the fact that anypony wearing a uniform and a shiny badge can look scary when far enough. In an instant all three whirled their heads around at her, eyes wide.
“Shit!” the mare hissed. As if on cue, all three bolted in the opposite direction at full speed.
Night Shift kept her sight on them, making sure just in case they wouldn’t turn back if they ever realized she was actually alone. That thankfully never happened, and the thestral drew a relieved breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Then she turned her attention to another, more important matter.
“Everything alright, sir?” she asked the stallion, one wing extended so to help him stand.
He simply stared blankly at her. He blinked at her, eyebrows furrowed, his eyes shifting from her face to her military fatigues. His lips moved.
Night Shift arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“Is this … is this a joke?”
“Joke?” She blinked at him. “Sir, did they hit you in the head that bad? What are you talking about?”
He shook his head. Without a word, and without even helping himself with her wing, he slowly climbed back to his hooves. Now that he was standing, Night Shift noticed with some surprise that the earth pony was actually taller than her. His mane might have been a dark brown once, but now it was mostly grey and unkept. He wore a brown work apron, mostly clean aside from the occasional stains.
He gave her a sceptical glance, before turning to address the damage at his shop. He sighed before kicking away idly with one hoof at some broken glass on the ground.
“That was stupid,” he muttered.
Night Shift’s head tilted in confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“Next time they come back they’ll just be more pissed. Glass is easy to replace, and they would have gotten bored eventually. Now?” He sighed a second time. “I’d better keep my shotgun loaded for the next time.”
“If this happened before, why didn’t you just call the police?”
He chuckled. “What for?” His breath smelled heavy of tobacco. “As I said, it’s not the first time I have to replace those windows.”
“They didn’t look like they were interested just in smashing your place, old man,” she pointed out. “I’ve heard what they called you. They’re the kind of thugs the sooner they’re dealt with, the better for you.”
“They’re colts. It’s not their fault somepony put all that patriotic shit in their heads. They just repeat it ‘cause it rings nice in their ears.” He shot her a sidelong glance. “And they’re not the only ones, it seems.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked defensively.
“Nothing, nothing,” he waved a hoof. “Forget that I said anything. Thank you for your assistance, miss. Very kind of you. You’d better leave now though. I’ve got a few things to tidy up.” And without another word he stepped back inside the shop.
Night Shift gave him a curious look before turning and starting to leave. She managed to take a few steps before stopping, his hoof stumbling against something.
A quick glance down revealed it to be a wallet, and a pretty worn one at that. Scooping it up with a wing, she gave it a closer look. No ID was inside, but a quick shake caused it to emit a faint metallic rattle. Squinting a bit harder, she managed to barely make out the letters C.S. sewn on the leather.
Frowning, she cast another look back at the ruined shop.
It wasn’t really her business, right? Then again, it had kind of become her business the moment she had decided to step right into it. She had said it herself, looking for troubles was indeed a family thing.
Well, it’s not like I have anything else to do. Home is not going anywhere.
Adjusting her bags’ leather straps on her shoulder, Night Shift turned around and walked inside the old stallion’s shop.
The place was small, cramped to the brim with a multitude of objects: furniture of any kind and material, some of them looking quite fancy; boxes piled up one over the other; a couple of large gramophones; books filling the shelves together with old electronic parts and … wait, was that a car engine?
The first word that came to Night Shift’s mind was junkyard, but that really didn’t render justice to that place. After all, it was quite clean in its own way and a lot less dusty than she might have imagined.
“Hey, are you one of those antique dealers?” she asked aloud.
Standing near the counter, the stallion looked up from a dust-filled piece of cyan cloth he was straightening up. He had a pair of sewing needles by his side.
“Amongst other things.” If he was surprised to see her inside, he did not show it. “I’m good at putting things back together, so sometimes ponies come here looking for a fixer.”
Night Shift nodded absentmindedly as she kept looking around, her eyes stopping for a moment over an old unicorn doll resting on a shelf. She leaned forward to have a better look at it, only to suddenly jerk her head back in disgust as the smell assailed her nostrils. Her eyes went wide, one foreleg going up to cover her nose.
She heard the stallion chuckling behind her. “You might want to stay away from it, lad. Until I find a detergent strong enough, at least.”
The thestral shot him an annoyed look. “Yeah, I’ve noticed it. Where in Tartarus did you buy it?”
“I didn’t,” he said with a shrug. “Found it in a garbage can a few blocks from here. A real pity; aside from the smell, it was in good conditions.”
“I’m sure it was.” Turning back her attention on him, she noticed something about the cloth he was holding. Aside from the dirt covering it, it looked strangely familiar.
“Anyways, I think this is yours.” She placed the wallet back onto the counter. “You’ve lost it outside.”
The stallion frowned, patting his apron’s pocket to check. “Seems so. Thank you again, miss,” he said as he scooped it up. Then, he extended a hoof across the counter. “I’m Coil Spring, by the way.”
She took and shook it with no hesitation. “Night Shift.” Surprisingly enough, the old stallion still seemed to have a strong grip despite the appearances.
“So, what’s the joke?”
“Excuse me?”
“Back outside, when I offered to help you. You said something about a joke. What was all that about?”
“Uh? Oh, that.” He shook his head. “It’s bit hard to explain. Better if I just show you.” He disappeared behind a door and into his backshop without another word. He left the door half closed, so Night Shift could hear the sound of drawers being open and the shuffle of paper, all accompanied by a constant stream of muttered curses.
He re-emerged a couple of seconds later, holding a thick bundle of paper by his chest. As he dropped it on the counter, Night Shift furrowed her eyebrows.
“Do you also collect newspapers?”
He shrugged. “Amongst other things.” Then he started rummaging through the pile.
“Alright, let me see a moment, I think … No, this one’s too recent … I don’t know what this is doing here … almost there, I think, and … nope, that’s good only for the stove… There it is.”
He pulled one of the newspapers from the stack and laid it down in front of her. “Take a look.”
Night Shift shoot him a skeptical frown, but decided to see at least where all this was going. It was old, that much was clear; its once white pages were now a pale and sickly yellow, and the paper bore the signs of humidity on the rim. The characters were still readable though, and so was the date.
16 June 1005.
Ah, fuck me.
“I’ve gotta say, I almost didn’t recognize you with the fancy uniform. Then again, the Manehattan Chronicles really loves to put photos in their papers. It makes them sell faster, I think.”
Night Shift narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah, fine. That’s me. So what? That was years ago anyway.”
Her words came out harsher that she wanted. The stallion raised a hoof defensively. “I didn’t want to offend you. Besides, it’s not like you’re the only socialist right here.”
“You?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I think you’re the one kidding me now.”
“Well, I started some time ago,” he said with a chuckle. “Once I left my love for Celestia behind, that is.”
“Really? Why?”
He shrugged. “Why are you wearing that uniform?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“A very pertinent one, believe it or not.” He grinned. “So?”
“Cause I fancy it.” Night Shift rolled her eyes. “Seriously though, this thing is standard-issue. Why else would I be wearing it?”
Coil Spring crossed his forelegs on the counter. “What I meant was why you chose to wear it. And don’t pull out on me excuses about your duty, honour or country, or some bullcrap like that,” he added, just as she was about to respond. “Cause if you are, we might as well stop right here.”
Scowling, Night Shift opened her mouth … and then shut it. Much to her own astonishment, she found herself lost for words. And that question was supposed to be easy to answer. She had answered it before, although mostly to herself.
But now that it was finally time to say it aloud? Suddenly the old justifications about duty and necessity sounded hollow.
“I … well, I guess it’s because I wanted to change things, you know?” she began tentatively. As she saw him raising an eyebrow, she added, “I grew up in a certain environment, you see. My whole family did. There wasn’t really a way to avoid it, really, being a thestral and all that. The only place where that didn’t matter was the union. There, we all took care of each other.”
She shook her head. “And yet that was never enough. No matter how hard we fought and how much we endured, our struggle was a desperate one. If it wasn’t a pay cut or laying off, it was some asshole throwing rocks at my mother’s shop. And of course, Canterlot didn’t care much. The only way we were gonna change things was with some noise.”
“Not just a socialist then. Were you a markzist?” Coil Spring asked.
“That’s how I used to see myself. But unions in Equestria had long ceased to embrace markzist ideas since the whole Stalliongrad’s debacle. That’s the only way they could hope to escape repression and stigma.”
She shrugged. “We were basically revolutionaries without a revolution. Each of us youngsters had devoured Caramel Marks and Steel Stallion’s works, but there was nowhere to apply them. And then Princess Luna came back.”
Night Shift gave a chuckle. “It wasn’t like a referendum was going to solve shit, mind you. Progressivism was not something known to exists in Equestria’s old politics. But with the Princess, well, I don’t know how to describe it, but she managed to make us feel like we were finally taking action. Hell, up to that point I had never cared much for the whole thestral’s right-thing; Albion never had many thestrals to begin with and the only clans I knew of were in the countryside, but the Princess managed to bring us all together. Then Manehattan went down and we all know the rest.”
He nodded. “And so you won.”
“Something like that.”
Coil Spring furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t seem all that thrilled.”
“It’s a victory, I guess,” she said with a shrug. “Not the one a younger me would have hoped for, and I’m not sure this is the one I wanted in the first place. Maybe it was the one the dreams wanted.”
“I’m not sure I’m following.”
She froze, barely managing to catch herself from saying more. She merely shook her head. “Nevermind. It’s … I’m just pattering right now.”
Night Shift wasn’t ready to talk about that. She hadn’t talked about it to anypony and she wasn’t going to start now.
The dreams had arrived some time before Manehattan’s Bombing, maybe three or four months, she couldn’t be sure. Up to that point she had never actually seen the Princess, aside from photographs and newspapers. Even the idea that She could enter ponies’ dreams had remained some wild exaggerated rumours for her.
Besides, with the millions of ponies in Equestria, she couldn’t see why a royal would take any interest in her.
But to actually see Princess Luna stand before her, to hear Her voice as she asked for Night Shift’s help to change Equestria for the better? Well, that was not something you could just refuse.
So she had worked hard, met with other ponies in places designated by Her in the dreams, and trained with weapons. If something looked eerie about the whole thing, especially once those hard-faced ponies from Zebrica started to show up at their weekly meeting, she just ignored it in her enthusiasm.
And then the Civil War begun. And things started to look … odd. She still remembered the tales of whole battalions presumed lost behind enemy lines that showed up a week or so later, their COs claiming that the Empress herself had guided them away from peril. Or how the siege of Fillydelphia was finally broken, with units inside and outside the city mauling the Solarist lines with a coordination that shouldn’t have been possible by normal means of communication.
Coincidences, she had believed at first. The military has always been a fertile place for superstitions, after all. But now that she gave the matter more and more thought, Night Shift couldn’t shake the ugly suspect creeping inside her mind.
What if Princess Luna, Nightmare Moon, whatever the name is, what if she had entered my dreams and … I don’t know, put those thoughts inside my head? What if taking up arms had never been my choice to begin with?
Night Shift shook her head, gritting her teeth in discomfort. No, that was ridiculous. Princess Luna would never do such a thing, not her own ponies.
She’s an alicorn though. If she can rise both the Sun and the Moon now, what’s stopping her from doing it? Besides, isn’t what her Sister did?
“Are you alright, miss?” Coil Spring’s voice brought her back to reality.
She blinked a couple of times. “Mmh? Oh y-yeah, don’t worry. I was just … uhm, thinking.”
“Right.”
Looking for a way to change the subject, Night Shift’s eyes wandered over to the dirty piece of cloth the stallion was holding. The more she looked at it, the more the thing had strange air of familiarity.
“I’m guessing you found that thing with the doll?”
Coil Spring raised a curious eyebrow. Then, he snickered. “This thing? Oh no. No, this is far more valuable, you see.”
“Doesn’t look like much.”
“Appearances always deceive. It was so important that those kids decided to smash a tiny, worthless shop and kick an old stallion into the street.” As he finished saying that, the cloth now laid in full display.
For a seemingly eternal moment, Night Shift simply stared at it, seemingly frozen in place. How long had it been since she had seen an actual flag of the old Diarchy? The thing looked like it had seen better days for sure, with one good chunk of the upper-left corner ripped away and missing, but the figure of the two alicorns, together with the Sun and the Moon at the centre, was still distinguishable.
“You,” she paused, licking her lips in nervousness, “you’d better get rid of that thing. Like, right now.”
“Not a chance, no,” He shook his head. “Besides, it’s not like it’s illegal, right?”
“Not yet, you mean. But if somepony sees it hanging around here, you’ll have a lot more to worry that those punks. The police will be knocking at your door for questioning in not time, legal or not.”
“Well, that’s not really a problem if nopony tells them.” He frowned. “Of course, unless you want to do it. You aren’t some kind of model citizen, are you?”
Night Shift didn’t even need to think about it. She chuckled. “That’s not how I would describe me, no. Besides, I had my fair share of run-in with the police.”
“I thought so. You had that air around you.”
She grinned. “I’ll take it as a compliment. So, I’m guessing you served during the civil war, uh?”
Coil Spring frowned. Then, he laughed. “What, me? Miss, my fighting days ended thirty years ago in a bar two block away from here. A kick in the knee tends to do that kind of thing to you.”
“Really? Then why do you want to keep it?” she asked. If that stallion was willing to risk an off-the-book police raid, Night Shift reasoned, then he had to have some kind of deep connection with the old flag.
“Believe it or not, but this old stallion used to serve once.”
Night Shift frowned. “I thought you just said you got injured.”
“You don’t need to run around that much when you’re a quartermaster. Anyway, I left soon after Stalliongrad. I had been away from the fighting due to my condition, but close enough to see the aftermath. I simply couldn’t bear anymore to be part of any of that.”
“I imagine you lost friends there.”
He nodded. “Yeah, but that alone wasn’t enough to make me quit. You certainly didn’t, right?” He shook his head and, without waiting her answer, continued, “No, it wasn’t just that. All of us had sworn an oath to protect Equestria and there we were, shooting stallions and mare that were just asking to be able to put bread on the table. The generals and politicians back in Canterlot could call them terrorists, insurgents or whatever fancy words they decided to come up with. It didn’t change the fact that we were murdering our own neighbours.”
“So you’re keeping that thing because…?”
“Because I’m an idiot that likes to think back to better times, when ponies didn’t just murder each other in the streets.” His eyebrows furrowed. “You know, that sounded a lot better in my head.
Night Shift couldn’t keep the snicker escaping from her lips. “Oh, tell me about it!”
“Uh?”
She quickly shook her head. “Nothing, nothing. It just reminded me of something else. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Nah, that’s alright, Miss. As I said, mine is just the daydreaming of an old stallion.” He smirked again, but this time it was different, bitter.
Night Shift smirked back at him. She liked the stallion. Not just because the both of them had a military career behind, but also because they were strangely similar in some regards.
“You know, I think you were right before.” Night Shift raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe I just needed to talk this over with somepony else to finally see that it may be time to set this old piece of cloth down from the wall and to rest.”
“You don’t have if you don’t want to.” Night Shift grimaced, then she shook her head. “Look, forget anything that I said, alright? I didn’t know, well, all of that about you. I might not agree on the why, but if that’s important for you, you should feel free to keep it.”
She smacked a hoof firmly on the ground. “And if those idiots keep bothering you, just give me a call. I’m still in touch with a couple of ponies around here.”
“Thank you for the offer, miss, but that won’t be necessary.” He seized the Diarchy’s flag by one angle and began carefully folding it. “Besides, as much as I’d like to forget it, Old Equestria was not all that quiet compared to nowadays. Harmony is not all that pretty when you give it a closer look.”
“Now,” Coil Spring said, setting the now folded cloth aside, “I need to find a place where to put this thing, though. I think I should have some boxes somewhere in the back.”
Nigh Shift nodded, absentmindedly. A very crazy idea had taken shape in her mind. The more rational part of her was telling her no; that she was putting herself, her career, even Coil Spring in jeopardy if she chose to go ahead.
“So, uhm, hypothetically speaking,” she began a bit awkwardly, “how much would you ask for that?”
Oh dear goddess, you’re not doing it for real, are you?
Coil Spring, who in the meantime had started making his way to a nearby shelf, stopped dead in his tracks. He gave her a look of surprise, but also visible relief.
“Well, that depends. How much would you give me?”
She briefly rummaged in her pockets. She really didn’t have all that much money with her.
“Four bits. And some silver pieces.”
He made a show of thinking about it, without even trying all that hard, before shrugging. “Not much, but I could make you a discount. Just because it’s you, miss,” he added with a grin.
Without a second thought, and without giving herself a moment to backtrack, she emptied her remaining money on the counter, leaving him to scoop them up.
“Don’t worry about a paper bag, I’ve got my own.” Night Shift gestured at the leather bag hanging from her shoulder. She made sure to place it with care inside, together with her personal belongings.
She was on her way out when another thought came to mind. She removed something from her bag and placed it on the counter. The stallion shot her a questioning look.
Her answer was a casual shrug and a smile. “Just a small way to thank you for your service. You like cheese, right?”
