Captain Reynolds climbed out of a helicopter loaded with more of the meager medical supplies the American fleet had. He looked around while two other officers from Ticonderoga climbed out as while. What he saw was heart-wrenching: doctors and nurses working to save the injured, those lost being covered in shrouds, and anyone who wasn’t critical was a “walking wounded,” slightly-wounded ponies doing their duties because the army had so little fit for combat. Colonel Dawn and his senior officers stood in a small circle with the fifteen ponies left in Captain Midnight Shadow’s regiment. In the center of the circle was a coffin made from the abundant nearby “swamp oak” trees. Captain Reynolds decided not to disturb what was obviously a funeral for a fallen comrade, and sat down on a burned stump, wiping sweat from his head with a rag.
“Here, sir,” said a sailor, handing the cruiser captain a water bottle. Reynolds accepted it gratefully. “It must be at least ninety out here, sir, and that just ain’t right. It’s December, and the deck was literally frozen over last night.”
“Something must’ve knocked the temperature out of whack.” He took a gulp before handing the bottle back to the sailor. “I intend on finding that out.”
As he waited for Crimson to finish the funeral, Reynolds reflected on the previous night’s events on the ship. After the Changeling attack was initiated, he waited for clear shots before giving the order to fire. The fighting had continued throughout the night, and something set the forest afire around two in the morning. Then, as the sun peeked above the light swell, his ship blasted a drone disguised as Chrysalis. The battle ended soon after, and he would’ve left earlier, but the GPS booted up and gave them a position. Reynolds spent the next hour or so speaking with the President and Admiral James Robinson on Reagan, who he thought had been lost. The relief he restrained from showing was almost too much to bear.
And now he was to tell Crimson that the world was likely to end soon. That direction of conversation won’t be likely to end well. Well, now or never. Crimson and his officers were done and heading over to him. He stood up and straightened his uniform.
“Captain Reynolds, I thank you for your generosity in medical affairs. American supplies and techniques seem to much more advanced than ours.”
“It’s my pleasure, Colonel. This army needs it more than I do right now. But that’s not the reason I came. I received a call from my carrier group - from the other side of the ocean! The GPS system is working again, but Admiral Robinson aboard USS Ronald Reagan told me that the situation is about to go to hell.”
Crimson cocked his head to the right. “Could you explain?”
“I planned on that question. My enemies from Russia and China could be crawling all over the place. It seems that both our worlds are colliding at an astonishing rate. The goons over at NASA should come with a date in a few hours, so we need to kick into high gear right now.”
Silver Comet blinked. “What’s NASA?”
“The National Aeronautics and Space Administration. It’s essentially a group of smart people paid to make stuff fly in space without killing anyone.”
“Uh… okay.”
Crimson took the news in for a minute. “So, you’re suggesting we head on north before some bipeds with your level of technology show up and start kicking our asses?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then.” The Pegasus scanned the campsite-turned-hospital and saw nothing but ponies unable to go very far. He doubted they’d be able to get back to Baltimare before dark in the shape they were in. Unless they carried the wounded in the Americans’ flying machines. “Captain, do you mind carrying our wounded into the city to the northwest? They won’t be able to make it before this wonky weather turns them to icicles.”
“Yeah. I can do that. We’ll start now.”
Reynolds whispered something in his companion’s ear, who whispered something back. They went on for a minute before Reynolds finally pulled rank on the other. Then the two turned to the group of ponies. “The most critically wounded can stay aboard our ships. They’re a lot closer than your city, and have heating equipment.”
“Go ahead. I haveta get a march to town going.”
The two species parted, moving off to their respective plans. Reynolds’ companion, Lieutenant Commander Jackson S. Johnson, was pretty skeptical about caring for pastel horses in the fleet. But, seeing as Reynolds was acting commander of the six ships and the submarine, he relented. “I’m still not sure it’s a good idea. Not that I’m arguing, sir, but I just don’t know about it.”
“Jack, sometimes we have to do something we don’t like, especially in the military. Deal with it as it comes.”
“Aye, sir.” Jack saluted and began sending stuff to the copters. Ponies were placed on stretchers to be flown to the ships, carried by either Unicorn magic or human doctors.
Crimson called out the order to move out. Most of the tents had burned down with the forest, so he was really the only one with personal belongings. It didn’t take long to pack, so the four combat-ready regiments lined up in column in less than twenty minutes, waiting for their officers. Walking wounded formed a reserve in the rear, field medics keeping with them, and held the lighter equipment.
Slowly, the weary army marched to Baltimare. They only left once everyone alive was either on a ship or in a cart pulled by the combat-strength troops. If somepony fell down, he or she was hoisted into a cart to rest or carried by their comrades. Messengers were sent ahead of them, so the citizens knew to expect their arrival and the steel ships entering the harbor. They waited for the soldiers to come with a cleared lane all the way to the central downtown area. Their defenders were first sighted as a fuzzy cloud in the twilight, then more detail was revealed as they approached.
“Steady! Steady!” Crimson’s order was echoed by his officers down the column, but almost disregarded by the enlisted ponies.
He finally let them loose. The front ranks raced towards the metropolis at full gallop, cheering their way through the streets. After the terror of a Changeling ambush, running to a safe city was the least he could let them do. The fifteen or so exaggerated faceplants was also quite amusing to watch.
Crystal Snow leaned on Silver Comet dizzily. She’d flatly refused to get in a cart, deciding to walk the whole way instead. Crimson would’ve sent her to the American fleet, but she and the lieutenant were inseparable. And Silver Comet was walking. Since he was needed in the column, the weary colonel wasn’t in the mood to argue.
A bright flash appeared near the column. When it dissipated, Princess Cadence and Shining Armor were standing there. They walked to Crimson and congratulated him on a job well done. He replied with the fact that Crystal Snow was who really did it. He’d gone into a flashback part of the way through the battle, so he didn’t want the undeserved credit. Silver Comet had bashed Chrysalis’s head in with a rock, so he and Crystal should be the ones given credit.
“I knew bringing her in was a good idea,” Cadence said. “She seems to have done extremely well. I take it Major Snow is with the rest of the wounded?”
“No, ma’am. Crystal and Lieutenant Comet are not leaving the other for a while. Probably just camaraderie. And I am not in the mood to really argue. Not after the ambush. Say, what’s the name of the forest?”
“Canned Apple-lis Forest. Run by some extension of the Apple family. According to Twilight, they’re pretty reasonable folks - most of the time.”
Crimson rolled his eyes, but not at the princess. “Hence the name,” he commented.
“You could say that. So, you said something about a flashback earlier. What was it?” Shining Armor was as interested in that kind of thing as Twilight had been.
“The Final Stand. I was over the battle in the 16th Aerostrike when I heard the cry. It chilled me to the bone, stopped my heart. My sister had gone down. When I shot at Chrysalis yesterday, she deflected a bullet into Major Snow. Her cry of pain sounded exactly like my sister’s that day.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. I saved my sister’s life. Crystal Shard, always the rogue one, the adventurous one. I was the orderly, self-sacrificing one.”
“Ironically similar names.”
“Tell that to the writer.”
Cadence smirked. “That’s Pinkie Pie’s job.”
The three chuckled. It was moments like these that ponies lived for. And the friendships that may result was what the army was willing to die for. Peaceful as the Equestrians looked to outsiders, they’d defend that with their very teeth if it came to it. Friendship, camaraderie, and brotherhood were everything to an Equestrian. When it came to it, that’s all there was. Just the bonds from fillyhood to adult life, from east to west, north to south. Stronger than the sharpest knife could cut, spanning from sea to shining sea.