//------------------------------// // Chapter 4: A stupid idea // Story: Advance of Night // by The Lord Inquisitor //------------------------------// The snarl of chariot weapons is the first thing that lets me know something is wrong. The loud percussive clatter of enemy cannon fills the air as the Armoured Infantrypony Support Vehicles open fire on our southern flank. Our defences are concentrated on the north and west, those being the points that everypony expects an attack from and those are the points from whence an attack came. Nopony attacks from the south, it's open ground from start to finish for eight hundred metres. However Shining Armour is now making his play and he's brought his armour forward for the job. I turn and start galloping for the southern side of the fortress, Corporal Punishment and the rest of the section charging in behind me. We round the corner and I rapidly see how bad the situation is, just before the enemy spot me and try to take my head off. Sixty ponies plus armour are heading our way. Shining Armour has committed everything he has to this thrust, including his HQ element which will mean General Shining Armour himself is down there somewhere, leading from the front. I quickly dart behind cover and start dialling up the air. However an unpleasant shock greets me the moment I reach Birch Forward. “Moon-strike, we can’t give you any more air support… you’ve winchestered one ground attack team and your two interception flights are overhead now. Word from higher is that you get no more air, part of the exercise parameters, sorry mate.” I roll my eyes and try not to swear into the microphone. Birch is just doing his job and it must be pretty thankless, however that doesn't mean I'm happy about it. My two interception flights are indeed overhead right now, but they’re going to be about as much use as hocks on a hot rock for ground attack, and as I glance upward I can see that the enemy ground attack flights are fighting hard. “Copy that Birch, Moonstrike out,” I say shortly and flick the microphone out of my face. Without that air support, we don't have anything that can take on enemy armour on anything like equal terms, except anti chariot missiles. That being said, we're not going to go down quietly. I quickly get in behind cover and then pop my head out to scan for a target. I spot a slightly overweight pegasus who is lagging just behind the formation. You’re going to fuckin’ have some I think. I quickly take aim and fire, the rifle roaring as the first set of rounds rip over the top of the small shields the unicorns have put up and slam into the pegasus, sending him sprawling to the ground, red dust blooming from the impact. The enemy response is murderous, a wall of golden tracer rears up to greet us as they start malleting our position with everything they have: chain guns, rocket launchers and small-arms all opening up to smash this small section of Lunar Guards. I actually feel quite flattered that they're making this much of an effort to kill us. That being said, it's bloody annoying not being able to return fire. However we do our best, hunching as low as ponies can in bulky combat armour and darting out to fire a burst before darting back in again behind the cover which is starting to disintegrate under the withering onslaught. It's a good strategy and one that pays dividends in forcing the enemy to use care as they advance, a steady trickle of manpower draining away as our rounds score hits. But then their rounds score hits too, and the losses are felt more keenly among eight than among sixty. G-D gets knocked out fairly early on, staying out in the open when he should have got into cover like any sensible pony would have done and it doesn't take long before an enemy manages to slot a round into his armour, then a second and then a third; the spells woven into the training rounds splashing red dust over the earth pony and knocking him out cold. Other ponies soon follow, the enemy fire becoming more effective as they draw closer and our own fire weakens as our numbers drop. Soon it's just me, Autumn Breeze and Corporal Punishment. “Corp, I have an idea.” I suggest, and Corporal Punishment raises an eyebrow from her position next to me. “I'm listening, Bastion,” she growls, making my adrenaline fueled smile widen. “Boss, we're fucked aren't we, we’ve got no air and no armour support... we're going to lose this exercise anyway, right?” “In a nutshell yes, what're you suggesting?” she asks, intrigued. “Well... can you and Autumn cast that invisibility spell?” I ask. “Yes, so what're you suggesting, we cloak up and get into another position to hit them?” “Not exactly,” I reply. “We wait for them to take the fort, cloaked up and all, then we'll see if His Nibs shows up in the fort... if he does then we'll try and take him out before they call an end to the exercise?” Corporal Punishment's grin is absolutely feral and I can see that Autumn is likewise rather enthusiastic about the idea. “What about him?” Autumn asks, gesturing at me and Punishment shrugs. “I can get him under a cloak, but only for about thirty seconds at a time.” Punishment's tone is dubious and I grimace. “Don't worry, there's plenty of hiding places in there, particularly after you've torn down one of the buildings to make it look like they blew it up,” I suggest and Punishment nods. “Sounds like a plan, let's do it.” With that, we withdraw as quickly as we can, pulling back behind the wall. Inside the FOB is a madhouse with ponies sprinting this way and that, carrying more batteries for this or more shells for that as the mortars are laying down enough fire for ten. Our headquarters element is already laying down fire from the upper windows of the Command Post, whilst a storm-group comprising of the company chef, the padre and two mortarponies dashes past us. They sprint past us into the southern position that we’ve just vacated, the chef still wielding a spatula and a machine pistol. They and we both know they're fucked but they move in anyway. We rush to the command post, forcing our way past the curtain to find Major Shattered Lance standing at a map table, his company second in command and his company sargeant major with him. He looks like a broken stallion, and I can see why. The enemy are advancing on all fronts and he’s being forced to give ground to conserve his meagre resources. “What do you want?” He growls and I explain what I have in mind to him. Shattered Lance's mouth curls upwards into a smile, the kind of smile that would have mothers dragging their children off the streets in terror. The notion of going out with a bang appeals to him rather more than it should. He knows the sensible thing to do is surrender, to save the notional lives of the ponies under his command. We're Lunar-Guard. We don't surrender to any-pony, ever. I think, going down fighting is our way and always has been, even back when we were Nightmare Moon’s Life Guard cavalry. Hence why there are no Bat-Ponies anymore. “Do it,” he growls “Make sure you capture that smug prick's face on film when you do.” With that, he dismisses us to plan the rest of his doomed defence, the smile fading as we charge out of his office to find somewhere more appropriate to hide. It doesn't take us long to find a suitably ruined building and it takes even less time for Punishment and Autumn to set the three of us up underneath the rubble in such a way that only a very careful observer will be able to spot that there are actually ponies hiding in the ruins and from there we watch the battle continue towards its doomed conclusion. The chef’s desperate defence of the southern gate will go down in regimental legend as he lays down fire with G-D’s ‘borrowed’ machine gun, hurling army biscuits at the advancing enemy troops with his magic whilst he blisters the air with curses. B company manages to hold out for much longer than anticipated, taking two more long and gruelling hours of brutal fighting as they force the grenadiers to pay dearly for every yard of ground that they manage to take. However as the casualties mount, their defence becomes weaker and the enemy press the advantage, using their armour to hammer strong-points and smash last bastions of resistance. The climax, a ruthless battle over the CP where quarter is neither asked for nor given, is worthy of a Final Cut film as our soldiers fight desperately for every last inch of ground. However the result is inevitable, and eventually the CP is taken down, leaving us still in the fortress, alive and unseen. The wait for Shining Armour then begins. The grenadiers, having wiped out the CP, are obviously expecting end-ex, or end of exercise to be called. In their eyes, they've just taken the last bastion of the New Lunar Republic and so the exercise should be over, the briefing clearly stating that end-ex will be called when we're all dead. Thus, the ponies start to mill around pointlessly, sitting down to do admin or go and chat with their mates, rather than start sweeping the fortress to make sure it's clear. The chariot teams even dismount their vehicles to get a cup of tea going. Nopony likes amateurs- I think. Hidden away in the rubble, we silently watch. Nopony dares twitch or whisper or even breathe loudly. The enemy are trotting right past our position, so close that we can feel the vibration of their hoof steps as they trot past us, gassing about and getting admin done. Then, half an hour after the last Lunar Guards-pony has been supposedly cleared from the fortress, Shining Armour appears, looking irritable. The Lunar Guards who were 'killed' during the exercise have got up and gathered together in a corner of the FOB and they are likewise getting a brew on. They're just as surprised as the Grenadiers that the exercise has not been ended. Shining Armour trots over to Shattered Lance and offers him a hoof shake, which is dutifully returned, though we cannot hear what words pass between the two senior officers. Eventually, Shattered Lance starts to lead General Armour towards our position. Prince-Consort General Shining Armour is not actually quite as imposing as his reputation would have us believe. He's a large pony with a deep blue mane with electric blue streaks running through it, and his fur would ordinarily be white, though like the rest of us, his has been stained brown by the dust and mud and gunfire. His bright blue eyes gleam and he's actually got quite an infectious smile. His armour is mussed and muddied just like that of the ponies under his command, and the rifle under his chin has the distinctive pale dust upon the barrel where it's been fired quite a bit. Magical residue or something from the training ammunition we use, I don't care too much. What I do care about is that he's drawing closer to our position, being drawn forward by Major Lance. He's laughing now, laughing at a joke that his own company sergeant major has told him. He looks a little more at ease now, no one's yet suggested to him that there might still be Lunar Guards in the fortress. My knees flex and I take a deep breath as he draws nearer. He's close now, fifty metres or less. My breath catches in my chest, my heart pounding. “Take out the CSM, then just blow away as many as you can,” Corporal Punishment mutters and I shake my head. “I'm going for the General, you hit the CSM, Autumn... fuck up whoever's closest.” “Sounds like a plan,” Autumn whispers as Shining Armour draws nearer. Her horn starts to glow as she prepares the incantation that will breach us out of here. Shining Armour stops, barely ten metres away from our position. He's so close I can almost hear his breathing. His nostrils tighten slightly and I realise with horror that he can feel Autumn's magic. With that, the time for thinking is over. Autumn hurls her charm at the tightly woven lattice holding the rubble off of us. The rubble erupts outwards. We rise from the rubble in one flowing movement, the world slowing down to a crawl as we rise to our hooves. Every sound hangs in my ears as I bring my weapon up, zeroing it in on Shining Armour's neck and face. His mouth opens but no sound emerges. I squeeze the firing toggle, depressing it firmly and holding it down. The sling jerks against my neck, the weapon vibrating as it fires, the bright purple light of my weapon flashing in General Shining Armour's eyes, my muzzle flash reflected in his monocle. His own weapon is coming up but it's too slow, he's not ready. His horn sparks as he tries to summon one of his infamous shields but he's too late. Red dust blossoms as the rounds strike home at point blank range and Prince-Consort General Shining Armour, commander of the Grenadier Guards Canterlot and Hoofshire Regiment and protector of the Crystal Empire collapses like a puppet whose strings have been cut. I'm aware of words coming from my mouth but I don't know what those words are. Next to him, the broad and bulky sergeant major is likewise going down, red dust billowing from his torso. Other ponies are running this way and that, levelling weapons at us but we're already firing and more red dust flows as pony after pony is hit. Then I feel a powerful slap to my flank as a Grenadier finds his mark, my own knees buckle and I collapse to the ground as more shots slam into me, the roar of weapons fire filling my ears. As I collapse to the ground, I can vaguely hear another roaring. The whooping cheers of Night Guards-Ponies are audible even over the clatter of weapons fire as my vision starts to turn grey and the world fades to black as the stunning spell built into the training rounds takes hold. The last thought that crosses my mind is a satisfied, Job Done.