The Atlantean-Dominion War

by The Atlantean

37. Conflicting Orders

Crimson adjusted his dented his bronze-colored steel helmet, badly dented from the past year. When this war was over, he’d keep it - that was the policy - as a “thank you” from the government for serving in the army. He’d also keep the repeater leaning on the wall beside his bed.

The ponies of the Second Coastal who had homes in Summercrest were allowed to stay there as long as they didn’t cause problems and if they still came to watch duty. Those who didn’t stayed in the hastily-built barracks by the waterfront, near the ruins where several disguised Dominion ships had been blown up three months ago. The fact that they could stay with their families during this deployment boosted morale by a large factor, which was definitely important, but it also let the Changeling and former Dom attachments have more room, as three quarters of the actual regiment was now spread throughout town.

Each morning, Crimson readied for half an hour before going downstairs in full uniform, eat breakfast, then head to his post for the day’s watch. It was kind of normal, which was not something typically associated with wartime life. He saw that life in Summercrest had largely stayed the same as when he left, despite the alien cruiser in drydock and the significant military presence that protected it and its town. The main difference seemed to be the lack of incomplete Fireheart corvettes in the shipyard.

And that was the way it stayed for the Second Coastal. For six months after the Nautinia Siege had been lifted, they’d led a fairly normal guard-duty life. Sergeant Oreo Cream finally married his finacé. Crimson built a stockpile of grilled-cheese sandwiches. Crystal Shard opened a jewelry shop near town center. Treetop did his best to keep away from the local casino. Captain Road sent her patrols. The sun and moon rose and set, dawn and dusk, for six relaxing, normal months.

Then it went to hell.

It started when the orders came in for their redeployment. As per usual with such things, a large commotion stirred up. The replacement regiment came in early. They were brought up to speed. Treetop filled his ponies in on the deal: they were to transfer back into AREA’s main force. However, AREA was camped in the mountains to the west, on the other side of Atlantis. The train system didn’t go that far yet, but it could take them as far as Violet Bay, which was about thirty miles south of the army. But by the time they got there, AREA could be long gone, already on its way to stop yet another Dominion invasion. Even though General Continuum’s explicit orders were for them to wait for the regiment, it was still a possibility.

Then conflicting orders came through, with Queen Atlanta wanting them to go to Port Snowfall, almost seven hundred miles due north. The train definitely went all the way there, but it didn’t make sense. Why not go back to the Army’s main campsite, where they would just simply fold themselves into the line?

Atlanta’s second letter explained:

Treetop had borrowed Crimson’s family dining room for his meeting. All thirty-five officers and sixty NCO’s of the Second Coastal Regiment were required attendance, along with Mirage for the Changeling attachment. Some of them had to stand.

After the Colonel told them the contents of the letter, he pulled out the envelope. “When I first saw this, I was extremely excited about the possibility of an invasion of our own. But, Atlanta explicitly said at the beginning of the war that this would be a defensive war only. Also, I hadn’t noticed the condition of the envelope it was carried in.” He tossed the envelope onto the table almost carelessly, but his mind was focused partly on the fighting sounds coming from outside.

One of the officers, a lieutenant, eyed it closely. “It looks authentic, sir,” he said, “but the seal is definitely broken. You can see it if you look closely at where the seal is. There’s a small bit of jagged edge where the original seal had been broken, then laid over with a new one. Not to mention that we never told the Queen about Cookie’s wedding. This letter cannot be trusted, sir.”

“Good eye, Sharpshooter. I saw the same thing,” Treetop replied. “The seals from Continuum’s letters were not touched, but this one - from the Queen - and all letters from Silvercrest were all tampered with. This gives me uncertainty. Until we can actually get confirmation as to what the hell we’re actually supposed to do, we stay put.”

Suddenly, Shooting Star (Crimson’s mother) crashed through the closed window. She was bruised and bloody. Scratches from both the glass shards and the rose bushes outside covered her. Her bright yellow left eye was swollen over and her jaw was broken. Her typically glittered mane and tail were a complete mess. She weakly pointed outside at a fleeing pony before passing out.

Everyone stood there in shock for a tantalizing moment. Then Crimson sprung into action, working to move his mother from the glass shards now scattered on the table. Treetop signaled for the two door guards, who’d just come in to see what was going on, to go outside. Four of the NCO’s hurried after the pony running like mad towards town. Their experience legs quickly caught up to the runner and they tackled him, bound him, and dragged him back to the large house.

A field medic hurried through the now-ajar door between the dining room and main entrance hall. She and another lifted Shooting Star carefully onto a stretcher and carried her to the makeshift hospital that had been set up in the study a year before. Crimson watched them go, not sure if he should follow or stay.

Treetop gestured for him to sit. “Your mother is in good hooves, Crimson. Let’s focus on what we need to do.”

“Yes, sir.” The Pegasus sat down after clearing the chair of glass shards.

After the four NCO’s that had run down the runner returned, Treetop continued. “Magical communications to AREA have supposedly been blocked. But we need to think outside the box. We need to think of that as not just Silvercrest’s group, because we are, by definition, part of that army. The letter could have originally been referring to us, but was then changed by whoever to make us believe we were in the clear. Then we leave to go wherever and they swoop in for the kill.”

“Can we even trust the railroad system anymore, Colonel?” Mirage asked. “My mother told me last week that all deliveries to Emberforge by rail have completely stopped.”

“That far north, probably not,” Sharpshooter replied. “I know from my train time right before the war that Pacifica isn’t just an industrial powerhouse. All railroad traffic on the north-south line goes through there, along with tracks from the four corners. Pacifica has the damn complex. The map. If the Doms wanted to know exactly where all our railroad lines are within a three-mile accuracy, they learned when they took the city. There could be Doms taking out every single supply train, robbing passenger cars, and living off the land around them all over the country.”

Treetop raised his eyebrows. He knew Sharpshooter had been a railroad engineer, but he didn’t know the entire system’s layout was in Pacifica. “And with nopony the wiser, they could change messages, fool supply runs, and destroy the whole army without firing a shot. After we’ve been forced to surrender due to lack of supplies, they can just walk right into Nautinia and Atlanta wouldn’t even know until they were on her doorstep.”

Crimson gulped. “We have a problem.”