Three weeks later
The clock struck eleven o' clock in the evening over the one and only plaza in Cornhusker.
At such a late hour, there were barely any ponies left wandering around on the streets. Those up and awake outside, besides the guards who stood vigilant and watchful whether they had eye bags of strain or not, were the ponies galloping or flying back to their homes as they received gloomy looks from the more active soldiers there.
Streetlights were not abundant; about three per street was all there was. The buildings did not have many lights themselves, only containing mere light bulbs inside and the occasional neon sign for some low-end diner or an always-open weapons shop.
A cold night.
Flash Sentry flew up to a small house by an intersection, right beside a corn field. After hovering over the stone path across the front yard, he knocked on the door and landed.
Seconds. Hoofsteps.
A muffled talk. A short talk.
The door opened.
Against the bright lights emanated from a lamp collection by the hallway, a brown unicorn.
Flash Sentry took up his list, scanning down to a wrench cutie mark. "Uh-huh. You're Silver Spanner, correct?"
She nodded, glancing behind her. "Yeah, that's me."
"Not that young," he went on, "but you still fit the age range for the draft."
Spanner sighed. "I had a feeling I was next."
Flash closed his eyes, tilting his head down.
"I already said my goodbye's to my Mom and Dad," she said, stepping out of the house and closing the door behind her. "They'll be the ones to continue the scrapping business until I come home or find somepony else with a talent like mine."
Flash opened his eyes and nodded.
They trotted out of the yard and on to the lone path toward the train station, walled on both sides by acres of cornfields.
Under the cold, quiet night; under the glistening moonlight.
In the moving train, dozens of ponies filled the seats under flashy lights, chatting with each other. Some smiled at the prospect of going to war, others frowned at that very same prospect. Some held a sober face, showing no obvious emotion.
Guards were here, too. They were at each end of the carriage and at the middle.
None of the guards participated in any of the chatting going on.
Silver Spanner looked out the window and saw the dark, peaceful scenery pass by her.
Over there was a tree. A lonely tree surrounded by grass and flowers. Its silhouette figured in the night. Seconds later, it was gone and the next thing to look at was a house on a hill. Its lights were off and the chimney spouted out smoke. That house was soon gone, too, and then it was merely greenery. Hills and plains, grass and flowers—mile after mile.
"Are you OK?" a voice behind her asked.
Spanner turned away from the window and looked at the Crystal pony sitting beside her.
"I think so, Macnam," she said.
He snorted, wearing a sarcastic smile. "I know that trick. You're not really OK, are you?'
Spanner looked back through the window. "Yeah, I'm not."
A silence.
"It can't be that hard to see why. Did you live with your parents? Do you have many friends back at home?"
"Do you ask that to everyone you meet?" she said, slightly growling.
"No, but...like I said, it's not that hard to see why you're so blue."
Silence.
Spanner turned back around to Macnam. "Just because you think it out rationally—that doesn't take the pain away. I can't just write letters—I need someone with me."
"I'm here," he said, pointing to himself. "I know we just met five minutes ago, but we could be friends forged in the fire, surviving everything together and protecting each other."
"How do you know we'll survive everything?" she asked back. "We haven't even received military training yet!"
"That's the purpose of boot camp—"
"That's not the point!"
Macnam closed his mouth.
"The point is...it's if any of us survive, if any of us live to end this fighting."
"Wars usually don't last a very long time," he said. "So, you don't have to worry about that."
"I mean...what if we get hit by an arrow? Or a cannon? Or any other lethal thing?!"
"It's the price of defending a good land," Macnam answered, letting his orange mane sway. "I'd like to see the Crystal Empire back when it was under a kind and loving ruler...those days of Princess Amore." Eyes becoming cloudy. "But, at this point, I don't mind seeing it destroyed if it means ridding the world of Sombra."
"So, it's all Sombra's fault!"
Spanner turned back to the window.
Macnam turned away from her.
They trotted, could not see much though they heard a lot—hoofsteps around them.
The non-existent smell of dry, rough dirt.
Dirt. Little grass.
Glaring lights.
They could not see much else.
"Get inside!" a voice boomed out from ahead of them.
As they followed in straight lines, multiple files.
Closer to a huge metal door.
It was open, there were lights inside, but they could not see much.
The lights outside illuminating the path blinded everything else.
"Are you trying to make me look bad?! Get inside!"
Flash Sentry and a mustached pony sat at opposite sides of the table.
Minimal decoration in this small room. One light, three maps, four cans, two jars, ten books, four chairs, five folders, three quills, three inkwells, one notebook, two scrolls.
Brown walls, brown floor, yellow ceiling.
One wooden door.
The mustached pony sprayed some moss-scented cologne on himself.
Flash Sentry blinked.
He looked at the nameplate on the table again.
Sergeant Hoof Drill.
"Took you quite a while," the officer said, taking off his camouflage cap. "But, I can't complain about something I can't change anymore. Yet...you must use all legitimate means to round the next batch up when their time comes, hm?"
Flash Sentry nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Good. At least you've remained obedient. You've been in this service years before and you're better off than the most stressed out recruits these days."
He pushed his nameplate a little to the left.
"It's unbelievable. You didn't face half the rigor they confront today...if only everypony was like you, Flash Sentry. Judging from reports and indirect mentions about you, I should be using you as a role model for these new faces. Imagine it all!"
He cleared his throat, and then, in a snooty accent:
"'You clearly don't know what real discipline is like! Your parents did things like time out's and no sweets? That's nothing compared to what we have in store for you scaredy-ponies! Now, I want you to follow everything I say—no questions, no exceptions!'"
He let out a mad grunt.
"'If only you knew who Flash Sentry was—ah, yes, Flash Sentry! Although he has never obtained a specialist role in his squad, there is one thing to imitate from him: obedience! Total obedience, total servitude! You snobbish ponies always have your own little issues and arguments about what color should your mane be—this fine young stallion does not say a word whether he is told to dye his mane blue, yellow, white, black, or even pink! If it makes him more effective as a soldier on the field, then he shall take it!'"
Flash Sentry smiled, although he did not laugh at the absurd example.
"Now, here are some numbers about the base," Hoof Drill said, giving a folder to him. "Send it to high command in Canterlot and worry about yourself. I'll be the one to shape up these ponies into efficient warriors for the good of Equestria."
The two rose from their chairs.
Flash Sentry stretched a hoof to his forehead.
Hoof Drill returned the salute.
"Go, Private."
And, he was out of the little office.