//------------------------------//
// Close to the Front 
// Story: A War 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

"Look, I told you this was coming, Eff Stop! You didn't listen to me, and now look what you've got ourselves into!"
"You're blaming me for dragging us into this mess? I wasn't the reporter who was complaining about every single thing on the way here!"
"That's because we could've avoided this situation in the first place!"
"What's avoidable about being a reporter and also being in a war?! If it weren't for Print Run, I would've been sipping on hot chocolate in some apartment back in Manehattan, waiting for this to cool over!"
"Another reason why Print Run sent us first and not anypony else!"
"Ahem."
And the two looked at General Radar who cleared his throat.
They were in the middle of the barracks' cafeteria in a cold and chilly morning. The white tables and the polished floor made the morning feel even brighter.
"There's nothing to be scared of, guys," Radar said as he sat down again on the bench across the two of them; only a table was what separated the reporters from the general. "I've got this under control."
"Ponies are suffering under anypony!" Press Release shouted. "I didn't ask to get in the line of fire but, somehow, I'm in the line of fire!" She banged the table with her camera. "You know what I want?!"
Eff Stop covered her mouth with his hoof. "Well, I'm sorry for the inconviences, general!"
She pulled the hoof out and spat, sticking out her tongue and wiping it clean of germs as much as she could. "You don't just put your dirty hooves in ponies' mouths! We've walked a dirt path all the way here!"
"Oops." He smiled awkwardly.
Radar sighed.
The two looked at him.
"OK," Radar began, gesturing a bit with his hooves, "I don't know what's going on with your manager or supervisor or whoever Print Run is. I'm not knowledgable about the press and the news—I read the news and I analyze the news, but I have close to no idea about how you operate. So, I have nothing to say about why he chose you to be his firm's first ever war correspondents." Another sigh. "All I'm asking of you is to march on ahead, see what it's like there, write the good things down, get back here, tell me what you saw and wrote, and go back to the city. The rest will be up to Print Run, I suppose." The general looked at his front hooves on the table.
Press Release looked at Eff Stop, eyeing him with a watchful eye. "You've heard him loud and clear?"
Eff Stop groaned and shook his head. "Yes."
Radar smiled and stood up. "Good! I'll be upstairs, doing some adjustments to our strategy. In the meantime, there's free breakfast since you're reporters and all."
He trotted his way around a wall and his hoofsteps could be heard hitting the floor all the way to the second floor.
The two reporters looked at each other.
"Now what?" Eff Stop asked.
Press Release rolled her eyes. "Breakfast. Weren't you listening?"



It was raining hard outside, a pouring out of water.
The two reporters galloped, going against the wind. Press Release's horn glowed as she held on to their hats with her magical grip.
Opened her eyes and looked. Nothing but gray and water streaks coming and going.
Then, a wall and an open door. A silhouette beside.
"Get inside!"
In they went, soaking wet.
Door closed.
They gasped for air, breathing fast, hyperventilating. She squeezed their hats and threw them at the hat rack on the wall.
The rain's pitter-patter clanked on, banging on the roof.
Windows closed. Soldiers on the couches and the chairs and at the tables, having stopped whatever they were doing—eating food, drinking water, reading books, talking to each other—to look at the drenched arrivals.
The two shook themselves, splashing water all over and ending up all clean and dry.
Eff Stop took a good look of the place they were in.
It was small. The rooms were separated by no doors but by mere open spaces where ponies could walk through with no hindrance. It was lacking in many things: the living room was only a few couches and sofas and a big table, and that was all; the dining room had a few tables and a few chairs, and that was all, too.
The pony who had closed the door breathed fast, too, before regaining his composure, wet on his face and helmet. He turned to look at the reporters. "You must be the ponies they're starting to send up here. Apologies for the horrible timing...well, it's not our fault, anyway." He shrugged and extended an open wing at them. "Name's Aerosol. Air Chief Marshal over the Manehattan Front. Glad to be meeting you."
They two reporters shook hoof and wing with the fellow.
The other soldiers went back to their activities, the quiet conversations lighting up again.
The rain poured on, clattering on the little house.
"To be clear," Aerosol said, using his wing to brush off the remaining water there, "I may have a fancy-sounding rank, but, in truth, I'm not really controlling our pegasi forces. They're controlling me." He laughed a bit at that, trailing off on a somber note and looking over their shoulders. He shrugged again. "What else can you do if the world-famous Wonderbolts were assigned to you? You can't possibly have them under you."
Eff Stop nodded.
"Can we get a seat?" Press Release asked. "We're exhausted from our 'little' trip in harsh weather."
"Just a bit more walking," Aerosol said, walking off already. "Follow me and we'll be in a private place where no secrets get out."



Aerosol locked the door, his face lit up with the lantern he held with his wing.
He hobbled over to the chair behind the table and sat on it. He eyed the two reporters still standing. "Take your seats. I've prepared them in advance."
They took their seats.
The pegasus placed the lantern on the table, now all their faces dimly visible in yellow.
A small, cramped room. There were photographs, maps, notes, lists—they covered a good portion of the walls.
Aerosol groaned as he clasped his forehooves on the table. "This isn't a trick or a stunt. I just wanna put it out there. I'm not putting you through some test whether you're a spy or not. I know you're not—and if you are, know that trust is a hard thing to recover once lost."
The two reporters glanced at each other.
"You are some of the first to be out on the front, recording what's happening, and sending the news to the ponies back at home. Whether you took this dangerous task willingly or you were forced into this for some other reason—well, you're here and you can't get out that easily."
The chief marshal cracked a smile. "You know who the censors are?"
"Cumuli and Stratus," Press Release answered. "You know them, too?"
"I have no idea who they are," he replied. "Probably the guys on your side of things. But, what nopony told you is that I am a censor."
The two reporters looked at each other again.
"It's complicated out there," Aerosol went on, pushing the lantern a bit farther away. "What everypony's been getting most of the time are statements from us top shots. We've been doing our best to keep it as honest and unambiguous as possible, but...eh, telling the whole truth gets complex when your enemy can also read the news." He shrugged again. "So, what do we do? We mince words. Every one of us who spoke or wrote to the press? We've minced words. Even Captain Shining Armor minces words from time to time, although he's probably the most honest of them all."
They kept silent, listening to him and watching his face brightened by the fire.
"Had to tell you what's going on at the get-go. Didn't want you wondering who was 'fixing' your sentences without you knowing more than just two ponies whose names—nevermind." He shook his head. "Where was I?"
"I have no idea, sir," Eff Stop said.
Press Release slapped him.
"Ow!"
"Hey!" Aerosol said, pointing at the two of them. "No joking around!"
Eff Stop shuddered.
Press Release remained motionless, looking at him with a resolute face.
Aerosol straightened himself up on his chair. "You've never been to a conflict before in your whole news life or something, so here's what I'll tell you clearly: If ponies want a war, they'll help out; if they don't want a war, they'll jump out. So, anything that could hamper their resolve to win is usually cut out before it gets to the public."
"What counts as resolve-hampering?" Eff Stop inquired.
Aerosol laughed a little again. "Depends. Soon, they'll be talking about a battle going on if it's going on long enough. They're expecting huge wins for us, huge losses for them—the enemy. Spill the beans that we can't even recoup our losses and then ponies will be up in arms demanding a peace with them, which we cannot let happen." He emphaszied that with crossed forehooves over his chest. "Other things include delays in equipment, complaints among the ranks, lack of basic food and water, decreased mood overall in these billets and barracks. And, now you know." Smiled.
"Isn't that lying?" Eff Stop asked.
"Funny, isn't it?" Aerosol said before laughing again. "You, of all ponies, asking me if that's lying!" He pointed both of his hooves at him. "Where have you been these last few years or, uh, decades when you were supposed to be paying attention to how the news world works? But, that's not the topic."
"What is the topic, then?" Press Release asked—sterner.
"A fair reminder." He smiled again. "Or warning. Fighting is only a part of war. How everypony works at home is another matter. Keep them happy and hopeful and ponies will do everything necessary to keep the fight going. That's what I'm telling you and ordering you to do. Nothing more, nothing less."
The two kept quiet.
"You can write everything you see. Tell me everything you perceive as they fight and duke it out. But, you have to go to me first. Don't go and run away back to Manehattan without seeing me. It's not going to end well for all of us—we'll go down, you'll receive punishments or something, and everyone else suffers, too. That's it."
He pulled the lantern back to where it was.
"If you have any questions, feel free to ask now. Once you go out, you're on your own."
And the two got out of their chairs and walked to the door.



The three ponies walked out of the door and into a long hallway crowded with noises and soldiers. Many stood at the walls or at the doors, talking to each other. A laugh burst out once in a while before it died down.
A subdued atmosphere.
"You're free," Aerosol whispered to the reporters' ears before he went back in the room and closed the door.
Jangling of a key. The door was locked.
They looked at each other once more.
"What now?" Eff Stop asked, standing between another pegasus without armor but staring down the floor with cheerless blue eyes.
"Wait out the storm," Press Release said, taking up the last bit of space available at the wall. "It's going to be a rough day."
The two waited with their fellow soldiers and comrades at the wall, watching some other ponies eat at a table.