//------------------------------// // 36 - Death, Part 3 of 10 // Story: The Last Cutie Mark Crusader // by Jatheus //------------------------------// Sparklefly was caught a little off-guard by the degree to which she drew attention in the Assault Corps. She, Scootaloo, Skyflame, Charging Lance, Masher, and Mane Crusher were inspecting part of the camp, and they had attracted a rather large amount of noice from the soldiers. More specifically, she had captivated their gaze. Only a few short months before, in the spring, nopony even knew who she was, but autumn had brought many changes. Sparklefly felt like she couldn't go anywhere without being recognized anymore. This had been a bit unnerving at first, but she did her best to conceal the discomfort. "I'm satisfied," Charging Lance said. "Yeah," Scootaloo agreed, "I can't think of a thing we could do better with our deployment." "Well then, let's head back," Sparklefly replied. The five returned, continuing through the masses of EUP soldiers that were streaming from all around to see them. Sparklefly could hear whispers on their lips, most of which were unintelligible, but she did make out two phrases: the Hero of Canterlot, and the Angel of Death. "Looks like somepony's become popular," Masher said. "It's a shame Pacer's not here; he'd think they wanted to see him." Scootaloo giggled, but Sparklefly felt a twinge of embarrassment. She wasn't at all comfortable with the new nickname, but she had no idea how to stop it. The ridiculous public relations stunts that Rainbow Dash had pulled during their hunt for Queen Chrysalis had pushed her notoriety to near celebrity levels. It snowballed then as every victory and action somehow got her name attached to it, in some cases whether she was there or not. She found herself wishing that Princess Celestia had never given her any awards after the first battle at Canterlot. It was a relief that Scootaloo no longer seemed bothered by Sparklefly’s situation. The crowds thinned as they drew closer to the hill where they'd set up their command center. Maybe the soldiers that were positioned there were more accustomed to seeing her. This lessening of the attention on her made her feel much more at ease. The guards allowed them entry to the command post after verifying that they weren't changelings. "I'll never get used to that," Masher said. "I hear you," Scootaloo agreed. "Just don't forget Canterlot," Sparklefly reminded them. She certainly couldn’t. "Believe me, I will never forget about that," Scootaloo said. "I thought you were off duty?" General Brax said to the party when they arrived. “Off duty? What's that?" Masher asked with a small grin. Charging Lance said, “I don’t have to be told twice. I'm going to get some sleep before I'm officially back on duty. I suggest the rest of you do the same.“ He looked at Sparklefly when he spoke. The thought of sleep was unnerving at best, so she buried herself in reports at her first available opportunity, a new pastime which she found comforting. Paperwork wasn't exactly fun, but it gave her a sense that she was seeing much more than what she personally observed. The fighting had been rather heavy for several days, but the casualty reports were light by comparison. The first day had seen one-hundred sixty-seven dead and almost three hundred wounded. The estimate of enemy casualties was nearly eight-thousand. The second day went even better: two-hundred thirteen dead, almost fifteen thousand timberwolves killed. The last two days had continued that trend. For every pony that was lost, fifty or more timberwolves were destroyed. If that pattern were kind enough to continue, they could hold the heights indefinitely. Sparklefly was never happy to hear about their own losses, but she was glad that they were at least making the changelings pay dearly for every life. She did, of course, expect that something would eventually force them to redeploy into a less advantageous position. The changelings wouldn’t be so stupid as to waste their entire largest force on a hill that was meaningless to them. "What's our supply status?" General Brax asked. Masher answered, "Last check, we have food and supplies for eight days. With resupply en route, we are well set for now." "That won't last," Sparklefly said thoughtfully. “They’re bound to intercept our supplies eventually.” She found it a little surprising that no attempt had yet been made to cut off their resupply, but air superiority was the primary strength that the EUP possessed. She wasn’t completely convinced it was as simple as that. Mane Crusher grunted, “It is unsettling that it has lasted this long. It is my opinion that they want to keep us here." This drew looks of disbelief from everypony. "What?" General Brax asked. "It's just a feeling," Mane Crusher said. "They keep attacking, rather disastrously. They're planning something." The griffin commander, and older male of ashy color by name of Greyko suggested, ”Maybe we took out more of their command than we thought in that last air raid.” Masher offered, “I don’t think the attacks would be organized at all if that were the case.” “What if they have trouble controlling a force this large?” Sparklefly pondered. "Perhaps," Mane Crusher conceded, but he didn’t sound satisfied with any of their explanations. "Or perhaps that is what they intend for us to believe." "So, what then?" Brax asked, "We are in a good position, demolishing their force, and so it must be a trap?" "Can you think of better bait?" Mane Crusher asked. Sparklefly was unconvinced, "Even if that were the case, what are they waiting for? We've been here for four days. They have us surrounded on two sides, and have been systematically attacking us on each of those side. This is very good ground." "At what point would we abandon this place?" Mane Crusher asked. "We wait until we are completely surrounded and defense becomes untenable? Hitting us from the rear is the first thing they should have done. The terrain alone is enough that even a fool wouldn't keep hitting us from the front." Sparklefly looked at a map, "They are spilling around. They'll be hitting us from the rear either tomorrow or the next day. They're flowing around us like they always do." "Perhaps," Mane Crusher admitted, "But if it were up to me, we would depart this place before they get the chance." "Then I am glad it is not up to you," Commodore Greyko said, his golden eyes seemed to shine with resolve. “We are here to support your attack, General Brax, and so the decision is yours. We will follow whichever way you go.” The white stallion nodded at Sparklefly, “The captain knows this ground, and everything I have seen confirms what she has told me. This is a strong position. We will hold it as long as we are able." Turning to Masher, Brax asked, "How are the trenches coming?" "Very well," he answered, "It's not quite as good as our hill here, but we've raised the entire rear. Between how much it is built up and the trench that’s in front of it, we’ve got about a two-yard climb. It will slow them down." Sparklefly's instincts told her that Mane Crusher made a valid point, but everything she knew and considered told her that he was likely wrong. Something about that didn’t sit right with her. She finally added, "At the very least, we should increase our CAP strength to make sure they're not planning a trap for us." General Brax nodded thoughtfully, and Scootaloo said, "Consider it done." They all went back to their duties as the sounds of battle filled the air from somewhere on the northern line. Sparklefly looked over the map again and scanned the horizon. There was certainly no indication that anything was amiss. The reports from all over the field took time to sort through, but there wasn't anything especially noteworthy. The griffins had made a nice addition to their force; they certainly came ready to fight. The rest of the day passed the same as had the previous few. The timberwolves continued to systematically and frequently test the defenses that the EUP had set up, but none of them were able to get through. After night had fallen, Sparklefly found herself at the mess tent. The extra rations were welcome. Finding an empty chair was easy. As had become her custom, Sparklefly only went to the mess tent between normal meal times to avoid as much staring as possible. This also afforded time to focus on the reports. The words began to blur together much faster as she ignored the food for a moment. "You're not eating alone, are you?" Scootaloo said from behind her. Sparklefly grinned at her friend, "I was planning on it, but I won’t be disappointed to have company.” Scootaloo crossed to the other side of the table and sat down with her tray. "I thought you were on CAP?" Sparklefly said. "Skyflame took over for the night. I'm back on in the morning." Sparklefly snorted, “It’s getting hard to keep straight who is on and who is off.” “I know. I’ve resigned myself to just paying attention to when I’m on and off, and also where my passenger is, just in case we have to move. It wouldn’t do to leave anypony behind.” Sparklefly shuddered at the thought, “That would be hard to live with. We should probably start running drills for that, just to keep everypony ready.” Scootaloo didn’t reply, but instead stared at her own food. It looked like something might be on her mind. "Are you okay?" Sparklefly asked. "What?" Scootaloo asked, looking up. She almost seemed surprised. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she shrugged, “just tired I guess.” There was something more behind those lavender eyes. She finally looked up again. “I was thinking about Pibs." "Oh," Sparklefly replied as a twinge of sorrow punched her in the gut. "Did you know she'd been studying to become a botanist?" "Really?" "Yeah," Scootaloo snorted something that passed for a laugh. "That's how she knew all that crazy stuff about the plants in the forest." “That actually makes sense.” Sparklefly forced herself to take a bite of her dinner, but suddenly didn't have much appetite in spite of the gnawing hunger. "She begged me to take her on that mission," Scootaloo's tone had become morose. Regret was becoming a sort of companion for Sparklefly whenever she thought back, and not just from the caves under Canterlot. It was reason enough to try to stay focused on what was in front of her. At the moment, her mind wouldn't cooperate, and Scootaloo wasn't helping. "I'm glad it was her decision to go. If I had talked her into it..." she trailed off. “Yeah...” Sparklefly knew exactly what that was like. She knew Scootaloo hadn’t mentioned it as a dig, but it reminded her of that first day in Canterlot when she was the one who yelled charge and over two-hundred died following her down to that platform. The weight of the friends who had been lost that and every day since under her command was not a light burden. Scootaloo added, "Brax once told me that there are two truths in war. The first is that young ponies die. The second truth is that nopony can change the first truth." Sparklefly considered the futility of such a statement. It was true enough, but there had to be a better way. Her mind began wandering aimlessly for a long moment before a question began forming inside. It was vague at first, but her thoughts began to coalesce into an existential and seemingly unanswerable question: why? “What are we doing here?" Scootaloo looked up from her food, seemingly perplexed at such a simple question, “We're stopping the changeling army.” "That's not what I mean. What's the point? Is it for us?" Scootaloo was silent. "We fight, we get promoted. Our friends die, and we fight again. It never ends. Win or lose, someday the war will be over, but there'll be another one. We're here bleeding and struggling; we keep moving, but for what?" No answer came. The two sat for several minutes. Sparklefly couldn't seem to work this out in herself, and Scootaloo didn't seem to be doing much better wrestling with the question. It was a surprisingly small word to illicit such deep thoughts. Scootaloo finally took a breath and began her reply, “If you had asked me that six months ago, I'd have probably answered without hesitation. I would have said something about duty, or honor, heh, maybe even glory. I was so focused on getting promoted to Colonel, joining the Wonderbolts, and getting my cutie mark that I couldn't see anything else. But now..." she grew quiet. Her lavender eyes stared off at nothing, but then she looked back at Sparklefly with something like resolve, "There are two things that keep me going now. The only family I have left is in the Ponyville hospital, and I can't let her down. The other thing is each and every pony that stands on the line next to me. I understand how you feel. Pibs was the best; she could kind of light up a room with her smile. That was something precious that is lost forever. The world is a darker place without her." For a moment, it looked like Scootaloo might cry, but if there were tears, she kept them in check. "And there are more that fight next to us every day. I have to pull my weight so I don't let them down. If I don't give everything I've got, they might be the ones that don't get to go home when this is over, and I can’t let that happen, not because of me.” Sparklefly's thoughts turned to the farm in Ponyville: Sweet Apple Acres. Everything seemed to regain perspective at the thought of her family and the life that they would build there alongside the Apples. That was the goal toward which she was working. "I've been through some moments that have changed me," she began to speak. "I know everypony has them, but I think it's more normal for the changes to be smaller and more frequent. When my dad died," she paused, searching for the right words. "I felt like a piece of me died that day too. I had to keep moving for the rest of the family. My mom, we had our hooves full with my brothers and sisters. I put on a strong face for them, but we were refugees. We didn’t have jobs or money. That's what led me to join the EUP in the first place. Then in Canterlot, I ordered my squad to follow me down onto that platform, and they all died,” Sparklefly let a tear escape. "If you had been with me, you might have died too. I taught myself to keep a little more distance from most ponies I meet since then. After that, Nimba and Regal Masquerade... Cloud Blazer got hurt, and then Pibs... Each time I lose somepony, it’s like I lose some of my own inner warmth. I guess I’m afraid I'm becoming cold inside." Scootaloo's eyes were filled with compassion, "You couldn't be more wrong. The fact that you're afraid proves that you were just hurt. So you keep your guard up a little higher now, big deal." The words were comforting. These moments to just talk had become fewer and farther between in the last few weeks. Perhaps that was another casualty of the war. “And then... that cavern...” Sparklefly felt her head hang low, her eyes falling back on the reports she intended to look over. The words were illegible, thanks in large part to a lack of rest. What sleep she did get was inadequate to restore vitality and frequently interrupted by nightmares. “I’m going to kill him,” Scootaloo spoke with a fire of hatred in her voice. Sparklefly looked up, nearly frightened by the intensity of blind rage on her friend’s face. It made her concerned, though not for herself. She decided to attempt to calm her friend. “It’s a small matter.” “No! It is anything but a small matter!” Seething anger boiled over, though Scootaloo took care to shout in a whisper, “Nopony lays a hoof on my friends, period. War is one thing, but that changeling crossed a line!” Sparklefly put her hooves up to gesture calming, “That’s not going to help it. It’s not okay what he did, but you can’t fix it.” “It’ll be as fixed as it can get once he’s dead.” “That won’t help me.” Scootaloo stared back, her attention finally turned from the blindness of her hatred. Sparklefly continued, “What’s done is done. It can’t be taken back. I can’t go on like it never happened, no matter what we do. I have come to realize how much worse it could have been if he had... The point is, you can’t undo it. I mean, sure, if the opportunity presents itself and you find him on the field, kill him, but don’t let it consume you.” “I won’t let it get in the way of my job here, but he’s going to die,” she said with a tone of finality. Sparklefly decided to not argue anymore and forced the last bit of food into her mouth. It had become an unpleasant affair. She stared down at her reports again, looking for answers, but after a few minutes of silence, the words still were running together. Her own instinct was also to hate Ash Eater for what he’d done to her. Surely he had done as much or worse to others. War or no, perhaps he did deserve to die. "When was the last time you took a leave?" Scootaloo interrupted dark thoughts. She seemed slightly cooled down from her diatribe. "I'm off duty right now.” “So that stack of reports next to you is actually letters home? No, I mean a real leave, an actual day off." She thought on this, and the moment stretched on as Sparklefly could recall many events that now blurred together like a stream of consciousness. Unsettling as it was, she was having trouble remembering the last time she'd had any time off of her duties since they’d left Canterlot. “You, my friend, are suffering from battle-fatigue.” Sparklefly snorted and couldn’t help but tease, “Is that your medical opinion?” Scootaloo made a sideways glance and retorted, “I’m sure everypony appreciates how hard you're pushing yourself, but if you have to think that hard about it, you need to rest." “When was your last day off?” “In Ponyville just before we came south.” Sparklefly shrugged, not really sure what to say in her own defense, "There's just so much to do." "Yes," Scootaloo agreed. "And we'll get it done in your absence. Seriously, it's not going to kill you to take a couple of days to recharge." The thought of several days away from the war nearly caused a panic inside, "I don't know. I don't think I could rest. I'd be too worried about what's going on." Scootaloo thought a moment and then said, "I'll tell you what; you take two days leave, and I will keep scouts reporting to you everything that happens on one condition." “What condition?" "You don't issue any orders, or feel obligated do anything else that constitutes helping us. We can handle everything." The thought was still terrifying, but there was something rather intoxicating about having no responsibility for a while. Weariness began to weigh heavy as Sparklefly considered this. Eventually, the inability to read the reports is what won out. She was exhausted, and she knew it. "Why not," she finally replied. "I'd better put in a formal request for the leave." Scootaloo grinned, "I'll take care of that. If you want, I'll also drop by when I can." Sparklefly smiled, "Please do." "I need to get some sleep," Scootaloo said. "Are you good?" "I will be. Thanks." "Forget it," Scootaloo answered nonchalantly as she walked away. The weight began to lift ever so slightly as Sparklefly finished her dinner and walked back to her tent. It was large enough for a cot, a small table and a chair. She also had a chest in which to pack everything when they had to move out. It would be large enough to sleep four if not for the table, but rank did have privileges. By the time she got there, the sun had already slipped below the horizon, and the darkness was growing deeper as night took hold. Evening rituals were completed efficiently as Sparklefly prepared to attempt sleep. Her mind did not cooperate, being filled with thoughts of troop deployments and timberwolf movements, supply disposition, her family at home, not to mention Duster and her medic friend. The stress of all these things had been affecting her more than she’d realized. It made her feel rather small indeed to be so weakened. Sleep finally took her, but it was a fitful and restless venture. She tossed on her cot most of the night, awakened by dreams of being smothered. At one point, late in the darkness she found herself awake again. Standing and stretching felt good, but she was still exhausted. Sparklefly walked out of her small tent and stood in the cool of night. The stars burned brightly overhead. To the southwest, flashes lit up the night moments before the distant thunderings of combat followed. She stood there watching but unable to really see what was happening. The rhythm of the light and sound almost reminded her of a concert. If she hadn't known better, she might have mistaken it for a thunderstorm. Before long, as was typically the case, the fighting died down. The peace of night was restored once again as the last echoes of the explosions died away in the distance. Sparklefly was so tired she couldn't even think anymore. She went back and laid on her cot again. Dreamless sleep found her much faster this time.