Rumbling through the dreary countryside, and through oceans of pine trees, our train raced north. I stared, zoned out, gaze focusing on nothing in particular on the opposite side of the carriage's glass pane. My chin sat relaxed atop my hoof, elbow rested against a narrow lip beneath the window, and body leaning just slightly against the wall.
It only made sense for us to see him again. After all, he was buried nearly two months ago. Regardless if the whole 'the passed are always with you' thing was real, he could only be lonely, out in the secluded forests of northeast Equestria, along the eastern shores of Valor Lake. On sunny days, he had a stunning view of the shimmering water below the hilltop.
It amazed me that such a place could even see cloudless days. Either time I've gone, the weather set the mood perfectly. Yet, despite the rather-close proximity to Manehattan, and the further-north city of Alderneigh, two-hundred miles really did make the difference. No snow coated the ground at all, a sign of the transitioning seasons ahead.
In anticipation of the warm weather, I reached up and plucked off my beanie, not that it had been at all necessary to wear in the heated train, which now cooled in response to the change of temperature. Outside, a sprinkle dampened the windows with tiny individual plops of water, far from significant enough to reduce visibility.
What broke my solid trance were the brakes as the train slowed, approaching our destination. A feather felt to tickle in my chest, a tingle that pained my heart the slower the world outside paced by.
My ears drooped back while the expansive cemetery came into view, no longer shrouded by the forest. Just enough of the lake was visible through a distant thick fog to remind me it was there. This silver fog stretched skyward until it reached the barrier of the clouds above, and ever so steadily did it sweep across the lake, moving in our general direction.
The jolt of the carriages bouncing against one another as the train came to a complete halt once more removed my focus off of the outside and on the others. They already stood up from their seats, lining up at the door, it giving off a low hiss as it slid open.
Standing for the first time in a few hours, I strode up behind Silver, dressed as nicely as possible in such short notice. Himself and Anchorage definitely took their appearances seriously for a non-official matter, not that anypony paid much mind.
A wall of humidity struck each of us the moment we stepped hoof outside of the train. A warm type of humidity, one that all of us—minus Anchorage—longed for through the course of a few months, and eagerly welcomed with open arms. Yep, spring was on its way.
"Who remembers where it is?" Nightpath asked, glancing around.
"Shouldn't be difficult. They buried him with the others," Anchorage responded lowly.
"The... others?" Night cocked his head.
"He wasn't the only one who died that day, Night," I replied, giving him a blank look from below. "Sailors on the Eclipse, then Marines in Manehattan."
"All adding up to a total death toll of eleven ponies. Eleven. That's how many colts didn't get to go home to their families for the New Year," Silver added, trailing off tenser than before and gritting his teeth.
"Solar included," I silently said, gaze shifting off toward one of the rows extending as far as I could see.
Each of these gravestones marked the final resting places of royal guards over the span of a millennia. The grand majority were killed in action during the Lunar Rebellion, and two wars with the Griffons. That did not include the more-recent conflict last summer, all because of the patriarch resting the blame on Equestria over a misplaced item within their kingdom. The remainder were of sickness or other reasons.
We strode steadily along the gravel path, between row after row of gravestones of almost any shape and size. It seemed as though no two matched. That is what made Valor Lake the most unique of any normal cemetery.
With Anchorage in the lead of our little band, we put our trust on his shoulders to guide us to Solar's burial place. Along the way, I noted the significant transition from royal guards, over to the four branches. A chilling shiver ran up my spine reading their date of birth and death, the cause, and even notable quotes engraved in the fine granite the stones were made out of.
Perhaps it sickened me the most reading just how many of these ponies ended their own life rather than losing it to battle or an accident, or of natural causes. In the past I would always deny or simply choose not to believe the statistics of veteran suicide, whether former or active duty. For the longest time, long before I even contemplated enlisting, I believed things to be not nearly as awful as many said.
More so, it hit close to home. Having a father with a military record, one with common issues faced after combat, even then I kept ignoring the facts of reality and neglecting to comprehend the severity of one's thoughts after seeing what they experienced that haunts them at night. And now, I knew exactly what it was like, firsthand.
"Well, here it is. The Battle of Manehattan," Anchorage sighed after finishing, taking slow steps ahead and leading toward our friend.
A good part of me hated to look, yet I could not help the urge to read over the names of the ponies killed during both the attack on the Eclipse, and as it was referred to, the Battle of Manehattan, not to be confused with the Invasion of Manehattan taught in history classes. Even I could not place my hoof on the age of which it occurred.
In my chest surged a deep, stabbing pain that refused to release its grip on my heart, almost a crushing pressure like a boulder fell from the sky and landed on top of me in addition to a quickened beat. It worsened the closer we got, as if I knew it was there.
At last, Anchorage came to a halt before the grave. On it read 'Here lies Solar Wave, a beloved child, and a respected Marine for his sacrifice. 1997-2014'.
The year of his birth was what hurt the most. He was only seventeen, not even an adult yet. It was his parents who signed him up because he still had one year left before he could legally sign those enlistment papers.
Even through the thickest of times back in boot camp, he persevered. Despite his initial scrawny appearance, he made it farther than most believed he would. In some cases he even surpassed my expectations. We worked in tandem. Solar, myself, and Silver, helping each other out through those three tough months.
He even saved my future.
***
Eyes puffy and bloodshot, I leaped to my hooves, straight out of bed. The sixteen others did the same, albeit at their own pace. What had us moving was the drill instructor's nightstick banging against a steel pole, sending a wincing ringing echoing around the room to startle everypony.
It was week two of boot camp, or the middle of it. Every day before consisted of intense workouts that were sure to make one lose ten or twenty pounds in such a short span of time. I definitely felt lighter right around now.
The drill instructor strode steadily down the aisle between our beds, that terrifying, soul-eating scowl thoroughly examining all sixteen of us individually. Anypony not used to it by now were sure not to make it to the end.
"I hope y'all have written yer wills," he grimly addressed. Just the tone of his voice was enough to make the biggest of ponies uneasy—including one particular soil-brown earth pony a few beds down from my own.
While he faced the other direction, I briefly darted my eyes to him, then back straight forward. I tightened my posture, hooves as closely together, neck and back straight, ears up. The attention stance, by far, was the simplest part of this charade.
Reaching the end of the building, the drill instructor turned and strolled with slow steps back in my direction, still examining everypony and checking for any weakness. One fault, and he'd cling like a tick.
"Today, y'all will get a shot at the good ol' gas chamber. You will stand there, in formation, with your squad mates, and remove your masks, hold them straight up, and tag your battle buddy in front of you," he explained aloud. "Simple enough, for you pussies," he muttered the end.
Stopping at the door where he entered, he turned again, gaze moving from one end of the room to the other. "Get your asses moving," he ordered.
With that, everypony scrambled to get their uniforms on, before lining up neatly in front of the drill sergeant.
***
A sizable one-story concrete-and-steel structure, placed in center of one of the training fields, is where the drill instructor led us, joining with another training class and their instructor. One by one, in a single-file line, ponies entered through the door following a brief bodily check from a base medic.
I stood behind Solar Wave, patiently waiting for our turn to head inside. Unicorns were fitted with horn rings, restricting magic use within the chamber. Any pegasi in the mix—myself included—were required to extend our wings for reasons unknown. Heck, this examination made no sense to begin with.
Solar stepped up to the plate, the medic briefly examining his body, before placing the ring around Solar's horn, then tapping his shoulder, a gesture allowing him to head inside.
Being next in line, I paused just before the door, stretching my wings out to full length. The medic poked them individually with his pen, making them twitch, then tapped my shoulder, and I followed Solar into the cold structure.
A pair of disgruntled-looking Marines stood beside some boxes on wooden tables, fitting two at a time with facial gas masks, strapping them tightly to one's head in exchange for their covers, placing them neatly in other boxes to be collected later. Now I understood the need to write our names on the insides.
I winced at the straps around the back snapping into place, squeezing the circumference of my head and creating a pressure toward the top. The mask itself made my steady breathing louder than it should have been, added to the fact that it quickly became steamy, and the plastic covering for me to see through blurred at every exhale, thus forcing me to cut back further on breathing in order to see just where I had to go.
Behind Solar and through a darkened hallway, I jumped with surprise when my hoof attempted to step on thin air. The realization I had of this sudden staircase thankfully went unnoticed, and cautiously, I made my way down the short flight.
We entered the chamber through an opened steel hatch, into a windowless, all-concrete room, joining some others already gathered in a neat formation of eight per, taking the shape of squares. Myself and Solar joined the second front formation at the lower right corner with me behind him.
For minutes, we remained still, others trickling in two at a time and creating two more squares behind us. Some cold chills ran up our spines to the atmosphere around us. Notably, some ponies' breathing quickened without a fresh supply of oxygen coming through. These masks, at the moment, were utterly useless, other than forcing us to breathe our own carbon dioxide, also known as the silent killer.
Not one of us—minus the ranked uniforms also present—had not been startled by the bang of the two-inch-thick doors sliding shut and locking, bringing on another silence above the heavy breathing.
Simultaneously, though, yet silently, a greenish-yellow gas filled the room, fogging it severely.
Through his mask, one Marine called out. "Tag your battle buddy, the one in front of you!"
At his order, I stretched a hoof forward, placing it on Solar's right shoulder, while he did the same to the pony in front of him.
"Remove your masks and hold them up for everypony to see!"
Here we go.
Raising my other hoof, I grasped the front of the mask, straining to pull it up and off of my head, relieving the pressure-migraine it created the moment the straps constricted minutes prior. Upon removing the mask, I took in a deep breath. Big, terrible mistake.
My lungs seemed to catch fire the second I breathed in. My eyes shot wide open, also burning as the fog met them. They began to water severely, tears running down my cheeks forcefully. With a shaky hoof, I raised my mask up, along with many others, collectively hacking and gasping.
At every mouthful of air I took, no longer able to properly use my nose to breathe as it burned as well, my throat and lungs exploded in an awful, stinging flare. I squinted my eyes every other second, blinking rapidly and sniffling in an attempt to clear my nostrils.
For every second that passed, an eternity followed. In reality, we probably only stood with our masks off for thirty or so seconds. Words simply cannot describe how tremendously unpleasant these conditions were.
About a minute into exposure, my hooves gave out from behind, my hoof removing from Solar's shoulder. I moved it to my muzzle, hacking heavily onto it. For the two seconds I could keep my eyes open between blinks, I just hardly made out a reddish substance now on my hoof, narrowly standing out against the darkness of my coat color.
Solar snapped his head back, blinking with either eye to keep track of his surroundings. They both shot wide open as he saw me partially lying on the floor in dire ailment. He turned around, removing his hoof from the pony ahead, focusing on standing me back up, his initial efforts not enough at first.
"Star—" he coughed out heavily twice. "—come on, get back up!" he gravelly said, tugging on my hoof, dropping the mask in it to the floor.
Despite his struggles to pull me upright, no strength of mine mustered to do so. In fact, I was not even aware of him trying to stand me up. Fear gripped me, heart racing, mind strongly set on the idea that the gas was slowly working its way to ending my life. That is, the way it made breathing as painful as it did, much of me would be thankful if it did put me out of this misery.
My eyes, sight strictly hampered by the constant buildup of tears in them, shifted upwards to an alarmed Solar and just hardly able to make out his lighter-shaded self silhouetted beneath a small ceiling light.
Without further attempts to convince me into standing up, he grunted, teeth clenching, yanking me up with both hooves. Three of my own caught the floor, straightening as I was pulled upright, the other remaining close to my maw to catch any more fluids I might hurl up.
This time, Solar kept his one limb looped around, us both putting in the strength to ensure neither of us would collapse.
Before long, the gas cleared by giant fans, replacing it with fresh air. Fellow trainees, ourselves included, continued to cough and sniff, retaining a burning sensation all the way down to our throat and lungs, eyes glassy, but the tear production gradually ceasing. The other Marines removed their masks, having not suffered these past few minutes, much to our dismay.
"The burning and dryness will vanish over the next few days. Line up, head out to your instructors. Go!"
***
A tear tapped on the grass at my hooves, nostrils growing and shrinking at a quickening pace, breathing picking up. My body shuddered, head low while I sat before the granite headstone, engraved with Solar's name.
Anchorage walked up, firmly patting my shoulder twice. "All right, that's enough sulking for one day."