As winter settled on the dismal year of 1002 EC, the two sides froze in place... literally and metaphorically. The changeling armies were, for once, more preoccupied with survival than with conquest and slavery. Warriors who had expected the conflict to be over within days, perhaps a couple months at most, were now confronted with the reality of the freezing cold.
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"Brrrrr," Thorax said as he shivered, crossing his forelegs tightly against his body in a futile effort to retain some measure of warmth. "I-i-its getting c-c-c-colder by t-the s-s-second, I sw-swear."
"J-just... have to b-b-brave it out, l-little brother," Pharynx replied, in an almost identical stance. Both were sitting in a miserable section of trench, surrounded by similarly affected changelings.
"St-stinking... factory workers," a third changeling said, trying to nestle into the trench wall. "If-if they h-ha-hadn't..."
"But they did," Pharynx answered. "N-now we have t-to d-d-deal with the c-consequences."
The tiny fire they were huddled around was barely going, as the winds of the blizzard threatened to extinguish it. It flickered, and each of the changelings present suppressed a gasp as it threatened to go out.
"More wood!" came the call of another changeling warrior, who carried three rather small logs in his magical aura.
"P-put it on already!" Pharynx snapped.
The warrior did just that; the flames sparked, and all of the changelings present sighed in brief relief.
"Phew. How on earth did we ever survive winter before now?" Thorax asked, cuddling up closer to the fire.
"We usually remained in the hive, which was more than enough," his brother said. "in addition, most of our infiltrators either carved out nests in hard to reach places, say, forests and swamps, and those actively impersonation a pony had all the comforts of their... hosts. We didn't have to be out in winter most of the time, in other words. I have to admit," Pharynx added, "I'm impressed that the enemy held out so long. Think it was part of their strategy?"
"What?"
"To try and freeze us out."
"I don't think they knew anything about our anatomy, so how could they have known? Plus, the winter started because that airborne factory blew up. As far as I can make out, it was an accident."
"Well... I hear the rest of the world has winter without flying ponies to start it. Think they could make it so that happened here?"
"I doubt it. I don't think Equestria works the same way as the rest of the world."
"The other side must be suffering worse than we are," another warrior put in. "We're Changelings, the best warriors and strongest species on the face of this planet, and we're cold and miserable. It must be hell for the ponies and their puppets."
"Hadn't thought of that," Pharynx said. "Given how this whole conflict has gone, though... I wouldn't be surprised if they found a way to get around the cold weather. They've lived in it for millennia. We... mostly haven't."
"Anyway, how do we fight the enemy in these conditions?" a fourth warrior, Mandible, asked.
"We don't. It's too cold for us, and no matter what we did to the enemy, it would do us no good if we froze to death halfway across no pony's land."
"Could just transforms into bears and other hairy beasts to keep warm, right?"
"Don't be a fool," Thorax scolded. "Our outsides may change, but our interior organs remain the same. It's why we can't change into a toaster and get plugged in; we'd get fried. Our ability to change form can't save us for long in cold like this."
"Ugh, I'm glad I'm not a changeling up on the yak front," someone else said. "Those... beasts won't be afraid of a bunch of changeling icepops."
"Don't think about it," Pharynx advised. "They've got their problems up there, and we've got our problems down here. We obey the Queen, no matter what."
"I don't even want to think about anything north of here," Thorax said, still shivering. "How we put up with the cold down here, let alone up there... I don't know. I don't know. I don't know how we're going to deal with this. If it weren't for all the wood we've managed to get, either from cutting down trees or from destroying houses, chances are we'd be dead already."
"Stop worrying," Pharynx said angrily. "We'll win this 'war' next spring, and then everyone responsible for this... this cold... is gonna get it."
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"Brrr, it's freezing," a light blue earth pony mare said, shivering. She was already bundled up in winter gear and she, along with others, were sitting around a fire.
"It is what it is," Shining Armor answered. He was also shivering, but he tried not to show it.
"What do we do now, general?" One of the soldiers asked. "Do we stay here, or go forward?"
"I don't think we're going forward any time soon, not until this snow melts," Shining replied. As a matter of fact, he and the other generals had been thinking of offensive actions, but right now the Alliance was holding the line, and gathering resources would take some time. Hopefully, if the Alliance managed to mobilize properly, Equestria might be liberated by the end of the coming summer.
"Did our intel get it right?" his aide, Captain Stalwart Defense, asked. "Did the changelings blow up the Cloudsdale Weather Factory? Is that why this winter started?"
"Technically, we were working on it ourselves, but from what the Princesses said, it's true. Apparently they were trying to fix it, and then the whole thing blew up on them."
"Couldn't have happened to a more deserving people," the captain said. "And at the best time for us."
"Not sure if it's good that we're getting frostbite," another soldier said. "Not to mention that stew gets cold so fast that I have to try and gulp the whole bowl down in one go."
"It's rough all around," Shining said, looking into the fire. "Our kingdom's in real danger."
"Can't see it ever recovering," a mare called Velvet Scarf replied, flipping her namesake around her neck with a hoof. "Those bugs have killed or near killed everypony up north already. Probably nothing left to recover."
"Oh, don't say that," a stallion by the name of Steel Shot said angrily. "We haven't even begun to fight back. The changelings'll wish they'd never set hoof in our land."
"I didn't say we couldn't kick out the changelings. I said there would be nothing to recover in the north if we did."
"And you're wrong. Life recovers pretty quickly from disasters." Steel Shot turned to regard Shining. "You sister and her friends would be living proof of that, right, sir?"
"She would. She has, in fact," Shining responded. "And I believe we can recover from this. It will take years, or even decades, but we'll get back on our hooves."
"Gotta wipe out those stinking bugs first," another stallion named Racetrack said. "They took mah brother and sister. They're probably rotting in some cocoon or whatever. They need to pay. No, they need to suffer, and die in the most humiliatin' way possible, them and their queen."
"That's not us. That's not Equestria," Shining protested. "We don't do that."
"It's how I do things, with them bugs. More of 'em that r' dead, the better fer Equestria."
"No, it's not," Shining warned. "If you do that to prisoners of war - and I will find out about it - you'll never see the outside of a prison cell ever again. We're ponies; we don't hate, we don't murder or take vengeance."
"Easy fer you ta say," Racetrack said in a mocking voice. "You still got yer sister, mah an' pa, and ya got yer little wife, so what do you know 'bout loss?"
Shining felt his own temper flare. "Watch your mouth, private. You're out of line. Zip it."
Racetrack stood up, but a buddy of his, sitting right next to him, lifted a hoof and whispered in his ear, and the mutinous soldier sat back down and crossed his forehooves.
"We're not mistreating prisoners of war. End of story. I'm sorry about your brother and sister, but this is Equestria. Do you really want to make it what the changeling Queen wants to transform it into? Furthermore, if you do anything like what you've threatened, I'll personally make an example of you to all would-be transgressors. Understood?"
"Plainly." Racetrack just sat there, furious. Shining sighed, knowing he hadn't changed the soldier's mind, even if he had persuaded him not to commit any atrocities.
A voice came from out of the blizzard. "Hello, friends?"
Shining turned toward the west. A man was walking toward them, in the garb of the Avalonian Army. "Stop and be scanned, or you'll be taken for an enemy," the Guard Captain warned.
The man stopped. "Do this, then to letting in."
Shining cast the spell; he'd learned it from Twilight, who had used the spell during the first chaotic battle for Canterlot. The man flinched as the spell washed over him, but he didn't forcibly transform into a changeling, so he really was an ally. "Come in, then."
"To be doing." The green-clad soldier - he wore a short cape and hat, the symbol of an accomplished sniper - butchered the Equestrian language, which Avalonians called English for some reason. He wasn't coming to kill anyone, though. he did bear a rifle, but Shining didn't blame him for that; few soldiers went around without their weapons, and it would have been unwise, in his view to do so on a battlefield.
"To thank," the man said as he sat down near the fire. "Having..." He stopped talking, clearly thinking of what word, in his limited English/Equestrian vernacular, to use. "Having note. Giving to commander of Equestria army. Telling me he was here."
"That's me," Shining said. He used levitation to lift the message once the soldier had taken it out and read it briefly.
"What's it say, sir?" Velvet asked, lifting herself to her hooves.
Shining continued to read for a moment. "It seems that General Vittorio wants to discuss something." He looked at the Avalonian who had brought the message. "What is your general planning?"
The man shrugged. "Not knowing. Being soldier." He pointed to a felt badge on his sleeve, marking him as a private first class. "Not general. Maybe best I not knowing, when bug ponies may to be stealing me, eh?"
Shining nodded. The threat of capture was a good reason for commander to hide their intentions from their own troops, and that went triple when fighting a species that could change its form in an instant.
"I do giving you what am do having," the man went on, taking out a canteen.
The Avalonian may have butchered the Equestrian language, but that gesture made more sense than words could ever say. Avalonians drank wine regularly, and this one was proposing to share with friendly troops.
The ponies around the campfire all turned to Shining, who nodded. "Just make sure you don't get drunk; drink in moderation."
The other ponies cheered, and began to line up in front of the Avalonian, who looked amused but happy.
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"What's up?" Shining asked as he entered the green tent. Boy, these people love the color green!
General Vittorio didn't look happy. "We've just received a report." He set down the paper he was reading onto the table in the middle of the tent, which was covered with maps. "Here."
Shining picked it up and read it. "Four ponies managed to sneak through changeling lines - they were scanned and checked, they're legit - and reached us. All in very poor condition, starving and weakened from their journey. All have suffered badly from love deprivation." Shining looked up. "Not good."
"No. It is our first eye into the occupied lands. Keep reading."
Shining continued to do so, his eyebrows slowly rising in shock. "I knew it was bad, but this...?"
"I know." Vittorio took and flung something out of his mustache. "It's worse than our civil war. At least both sides then - largely respected individual and property rights. Here, the conquered have no rights whatsoever."
"Terrible... and we can't do anything about it."
Vittorio brought out a bottle of something, to Which Shining shock his head. The Avalonian general put the bottle back in its place. "I wouldn't say that exactly. We're five days out from our first coastal raid. Maybe we can save a few from this disaster."
"A few. Not a whole lot."
Vittorio scratched Shining's right ear. "Don't despair, amico. Justice will prevail in the end. And the enemy need these ponies alive, or they will have no food. They can't go indiscriminately killing them, and will go on feeding them, however terrible their existence, which we will free them from, A Dio piacendo."
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Equestria's dockyards had begun to pump out new ships, modeled after their Avalonian counterparts. It was mostly formed out of destroyers, with two cruisers under construction in drydock. Battleships were planned for the second half of the next year.
However small their navy, the Equestrians were determined to take back their land, and their sailors and marines showed great enthusiasm. Equestria's first battle fleet in hundreds of years joined with a squadron of Avalonian destroyers, with a dreadnought as the flagship, just off the coast of Baltimare, along with a small fleet of Saddle Arabian galleons and galleys.
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Bright Wing stood on-board a new Baron-class destroyer, tucking his wings closely against his body as the cold air nipped at him.
The Baron was a metal ship, built after the Avalonian model. It featured four four-inch guns and a series of anti-air guns, and also had two torpedo launchers, each capable of firing three torpedoes at once. It was also armed with an experimental energy gun, powered by magic as opposed to powder. It was supposed to be a long range weapon, capable of melting through metal and being able to strike targets in the air as well as on sea and land. Bright wasn't so sure how the gun would face up to real combat, and he wasn't alone.
The Baron class could probably take on one of its Avalonian counterparts in a one on one duel if need be. However, the giant Avalonian flagship, a mighty dreadnought, easily outgunned everything else in the fleet. With it's massive 12-inch guns, eight of them, in four massive turrets, in addition to its smaller but very plentiful secondary guns and massive anti-air capacity, it looked invulnerable.
It was on the side of Equestria, though. As were the much older, out of date, but still very friendly wooden vessels of the Saddle Arabian fleet. The changelings had nothing to match the naval arm of any of the Allied powers. It looked like it would remain so, too; the changelings seemed to have no interest in building ships of their own.
He waved to the crew of the Volpe, one of the Avalonian destroyers, who waved back cheerfully. At least the Allies got along, which was one positive.
Bright looked around. Most of the crews aboard Equestrian ships were made of pegasi, the most adventurous and battle-ready of the three pony tribes... or so legend seemed to showcase. It had always been so. Of course, some earth ponies and unicorns were part of the crew. However, there was something about the sky and sea that appealed to pegasi, especially those born, as Bright Wing had been, in coastal towns.
Of course, they also had one advantage that other ponies didn't; the ability to fly away if the ship was sinking. He tried not to think about that too much. No sailor wanted their ship to sink, or to think about fellow crew members being trapped in a floundering hulk.
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The fleet passed by Horseshoe Bay and headed out some distance to sea before looping back toward Fillydelphia. As night fell, the fleet moved in and prepared for action. For the changelings, nothing seemed amiss... until shells that only large naval vessels could carry began detonating among them.
For the soldiers, Equestrian, Saddle Arabian, and Avalonian, now aboard small boats heading toward shore, the anxiety was practically palpable.
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Boats approached the shore in the cold frost of early dawn. Soldiers rowed as slowly and silently as possible, regardless of their species. Men, ponies, hippogriffs, and Saddle Arabians nervously checked their weapons. The fleet lined up, taking advantage of the fog to position itself.
There was also a lot of shivering. It was, after all, winter. The hippogriffs, ponies, and Saddle Arabians all had feathers or fur in addition to their winter clothing. The Avalonians, however, were freezing even with their winter gear.
Not all of that shivering could be attributed to the cold, of course. This was war, and none of them knew just where or when they'd meet the enemy. Or how they'd meet them. The changelings could disguise themselves seemingly as anyone or anything. Their local strength, their reinforcements and reserves... none of this could be ascertained.
The mission had sounded simple. Raid the ruins of the conquered city Fillydelphia, find whatever intelligence they could, capture some changelings, and free any survivors they could find and bring them back. In addition, there had been whispers that Allied High Command wanted to establish a permanent beachhead.
Longsword, having been promoted to Captain since Froggy Bottom Bog, had all this going through his head and more. From what little he could see of the city, it wasn't pleasant. Everything in the distance was all shadows at the moment, but it looks as if the city had been overgrown by some sort of wildlife plant. No activity, from ponies or anyone else, could be seen, and there were no lights coming for the city. It was utterly ominous.
"Captain..." one of the soldiers in the boat whispered.
Longsword shook his head. "Save it for later," he replied, as quietly as he could.
To his relieved surprise, the boats made it to land without any sign of the changelings... not that that necessarily meant anything, given that they could hide as almost anything. Men, ponies, horses, and hippogriffs came out of their boat and began making their way up the hill they had landed at the base of.
Again, there was no resistance. The enemy seemed to be utterly nonexistent. Off to the north, the city remained in darkness.
Longsword crawled with his belly to the ground. His right front hoof held a newly-made Defender rifle, a weapon based loosely off of the rifles that the Avalonians carried. It had a four-shot magazine and could be used by ponies with shod and unshod hooves.
He was wondering just when he would have to use it when four shapes rose out of the fog. Longsword brought his gun up and drew a bead on one of them.
A hissing challenge came from the four. Someone fired a gun, and one of the figures fell. There was a shout of surprise, followed by more hissing. "Rebels and traitors to her Majesty Queen Chrysalis!" one of them yelled.
That was enough. Longsword fired, and another changeling collapsed. A burst of machine gun fire cut down the remaining two.
They'll know we're here now, he thought. Out loud he yelled, "Forward!"
Similar shouts from other Equestrian and Hippogriff officers, along with shouts in Italian and Arabic from Avalonian and Saddle Arabian officers, sounded out. The fight was on.
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Hippogriff soldiers took up positions on the roofs of several buildings within the Fillydelphian harbor. They, along with some griffons and pegasi, had managed to capture much of the harbor quickly. There had been some fighting, but the changelings had been caught by surprise, and they were killed or incapacitated quickly.
Whiteclaw, a young hippogriff, stood with a rifle, looking down at the streets below. Avalonians, earth ponies and unicorns, and Saddle Arabians moved forward down there, having gotten out of their boats and unloaded their equipment.
The city didn't quite seem awake. Some lights were on in some buildings... but most remained ominously dark. The enemy wasn't visible, but, according to intelligence, that meant literally nothing. The changelings could transform into almost anything, so keeping both eyes peeled was a necessity.
...I wonder... could they transform into buildings, or ships? How big or how small can they get?
"Whiteclaw!"
The youthful hippogriff turned his head. "Yes, Corporal Sea Breeze?"
"Just 'Corporal,' and listen up. I want you to stay alert. Keep your mind focused on the task at claw, and don't let your thoughts wander off. Got it?"
"Yes, Corporal." Whiteclaw sighed as he turned back to his task. Before the war, he had been accepted at Blue Seas Academy, perhaps the most prestigious university a hippogriff could hope to join, and had scored high marks in philosophy and various sciences. Unfortunately, as Sea Breeze had said, his mind tended to wander; he often thought of alternative theories and analyzed things in his mind, including science experiments and various philosophical concepts. His classmate had often joked when this happened that his mind had decided to wander off, temporarily leaving his body behind as an empty shell. The nickname "Shell Head" had been thrown around numerous times before and after classes.
He shook his head. Now wasn't the time for memories. He'd been drafted in the middle of the previous semester, after the war had broken out. He now had to be the best soldier he could be.
He looked back at the streets. Nothing there but more soldiers.
He looked up. No changelings in the sky. None he could see, anyway.
He looked at the buildings around them. Nothing there either, other than a lamp leaning out of a broken window.
Wait... why would some random lamp be hanging out of a window?
He raised his rifle and aimed carefully.
Bang!
There was a loud screech; in the place of a lamp, a changeling fell out of the window, falling, falling, falling down to the streets below.
"Good work, Private Whiteclaw," Sea Breeze said, nodding. "Maybe you have what it takes for the army after all."
I hope I don't have to do that too many more times, Whiteclaw thought, staring at the mess below. How could anyone remain sane if they had to do... this... for so long?
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Machine gun fire cracked through the streets and Avalonian soldiers moved forward. the changelings in the city had been caught by surprise, and many that came to see what was going on were shot down before any organized resistance to the landings could be formed. Rifles were fired by the landing forces as they began to surge through the streets.
The enemy, however, had begun to regroup. Changeling warriors were beginning to gather in small groups; green bolts of energy began to fly through the air as the horde began to muster to face this sudden attack
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"Go to a quiet sector, they said," Antennae muttered disgruntedly as bullets flew overhead. "It's totally safe, they said."
"Oh, shut your stupid mouth and listen!" the squad leader, Mothwing, said angrily. "You're a drone of the hive; act like it! Now, for the rest of you, who aren't behaving like clowns," he went on, looking, or perhaps more accurately, glaring, at each of them in turn, "We're going to try and rush them little by little. Commander Fang has taken over the defense, and he's not kidding about this counterattack."
The mandible helmet - and the scratches on it, including a dent that had clearly been made by a bullet - marked Mothwing as a survivor of the Battle of the Macintosh Hills. While Antennae might have wanted to argue, he knew that the other changeling could pound him into the ground without breaking a sweat.
"Right then. We're going to form up. Don't go rushing into their gunfire; stick to the shadows until you get close. Don't shoot, or they'll see you and blow you away. Don't fly unless you've got no other choice. And if your hides aren't there within five minutes, I'll personally beat each of you idiots senseless... assuming you survive..."
"GO! GO! GO!" came the yell of Commander Fang.
Hundreds of changelings ran or flew forward. The buzz of changeling wings filled the air, as did plasma from hundreds of horns.
In response, the Allied invaders opened fire. Changelings began to fall as machine guns and rifles mowed them down.
"Give them all!" Commander Fang screeched. "No quarter!"
"That's our cue," Mothwing said to the stealth detachment. "We move NOW!"
The infiltrators moved into an abandoned factory that was near their starting position. The sound of battle echoed from the streets outside as the fighting progressed. Antennae and his group hugged the inside walls of the building, hoping that a ricocheting bullet wouldn't find them. The enemy troops evidently hadn't occupied this building yet, so the infiltrators were able to move through it unopposed.
Moving through the factory felt eerie; perhaps it was the fact that the battle was continuing to rage outside while the changelings in this group were not being fired upon.
"Got a squad of Avalonians just outside that door," a drone noted.
"Get into position around that door," Mothwing ordered quietly. "Move only on my command."
Numerous changelings moved as quietly as possible to the doorway; a few huddled next to the wall, but most simply stuck themselves onto the walls.
The Avalonian unit, about fifteen strong, began to march past the doorway, but then stopped their advance. The two machine gunners began to set up their weapon. Antennae had seen such weapons tear entire platoons to shreds.
"Now! Attack!"
The changelings surged through the doorway. Antennae gathered his courage and followed them.
The human soldiers were caught by surprise, and three of them were cut down quickly; two were gutted by sharp horns, and another was shot to death with green beams. Others tried to fight back, but were overwhelmed.
Despite being slightly outnumbered from the outset, the humans who survived the immediate onslaught resisted. A changeling was spitted on the bayonet of an Avalonian soldier, who shot another attacker seconds later. The officer of the group, a pistol in his right hand and a knife in his left, killed two changelings in short order; one via a gunshot, the other by a knife to the neck. Another changeling speared the officer with his horn and, for good measure, blasted a hole through the man. The enemy officer collapsed, but not before trying - and failing - to stab his killer. One of the machine gunners struggled with a changeling; without a weapon in his hands, he squeezed the changeling's neck in an apparent effort to strangle him. Another Avalonian soldier stabbed a changeling with his bayonet, only to be killed in the act; both fell in more or less the same instant.
Antennae himself was faced by a surviving Avalonian; the man had no time to aim and fire, so he tried to club Antennae in the head with the butt of his rifle. He missed, but wound up smacking Antennae in the neck.
Antennae went down, stunned. The man raised his weapon to stab him. Antennae covered his eyes.
"Urk!"
There was a clatter as the rifle fell to the ground. Antennae looked up.
The enemy soldier was still standing, but he had a hand over his chest; when he drew the hand away, blood came with it, and smoke rose from the hole in his chest. He toppled over backward, eyes becoming lifeless within moments.
"On your hooves, soldier!"
Antennae got up and looked around. Mothwing was right behind him, horn still glowing.
"We have a battle to win. Don't make me have to save your sorry carcass again!"
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Although the changeling defenders managed here and there to put a dent in the attack, as the dawn rose, so did the mist around the city. With that, the guns of the dreadnoughts in the harbor roared, with lighter blasts coming from Saddle Arabian galleys and here and there a shot from the Baron's magic cannon would pierce the air, striking targets with great energy. Under cover of the fleet, the raiders withdrew to their boats and managed to escape, bringing their dead and wounded with them.
The raid wasn't a complete success; it was clear that the city could not be held against a strong, determined counterattack, and as such plans for Fillydelphia's liberation had to be postponed. In addition, the mist had made it impossible during most of the raid for the fleet to use its firepower, leaving the common soldiers of the alliance to do most of the heavy lifting. Nevertheless, it was clear that the changelings weren't strong everywhere, and a considerable number of ponies had managed to escape with the raiders; about two thousand pegasi, in addition to a near equal number of earth ponies and unicorns, had managed get to safety aboard Allied warships. In addition, some fifty changelings had been captured, a couple of them from the Mandible Guard, and the Allies believed that they could glean some sort of intelligence from them.
The winter - and the war - would continue.