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// Pulling Out 
// Story: Strange Bedfellows 
// by BRBrony9 
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The EAS FIllydelphia turned south and departed the valley at full speed, engines purring. The entire assault force had been loaded aboard, rather a cramped setup given that she already carried her own complement of Assault Infantry, two companies' worth. At a pinch, her holds could carry three companies in less than ideal conditions, but now the ship had to carry almost five full companies, as well as its regular crew. Ponies were tripping over each other in the narrow passageways, and a simple trip to the galley or a toilet could take three times as long as it should and see the unfortunate soul falling down or bumping into half a dozen different ponies. The holds where the regular complement of Assault Infantry were housed were full, and some of those rescued had to find a spot on the top deck to bed down and rest.

There were many grumbling criticisms of why the Air Corps hadn't sent a second airship to pick up the rest of the commandos instead of cramming them all into a single one. The answer, as only Spitfire and Ironside knew for fact, was simply that they had not expected the assault force to return with so many survivors. A mortality rate of well over 50% had been anticipated as the best case scenario; the more pragmatic planners figured that none would return at all. Raiding a Hive in such a fashion for an infiltration and rescue mission had never been tried before and would probably never be attempted again. It had only worked as well as it had because of the massive distraction provided by the fleet and the ground assault that drew off the majority of Changeling drones. Some would say, of course, that it was too simple, and that Chrysalis had let them in, for whatever twisted reasons she may have had. But others, especially those who had not been in the Hive, figured it was more to do with the dash, daring and skill of Spitfire's raiders, the pluck which had carried the day and resulted in at least a partial success.

The object of that success was below decks. Spitfire, former resident of the single spare cabin aboard the Fillydelphia which was reserved for visiting officers or dignitaries, and had been assigned to her as the ranking infantry officer aboard, had surrendered her cabin and moved into the hold with the rest of her Special Tasks Group so that Twilight could have the cabin to rest and recover. That was where she lay, nestled in the bed provided, covered with soft, clean blankets. A large jug of water and a plate of food sat on the dresser; cheese, fruit, bread, choice morsels chosen from the airship's extremely limited fresh food supply. They remained uneaten. Twilight was asleep, lost in dreamless darkness. She had been checked over by the airship's medics and pronounced mostly healthy, apart from being malnourished, dehydrated, and very, very tired. Spitfire had immediately given up her cabin and the medics had taken Twilight straight to it, getting her settled, and within moments of her head hitting the pillow, she was asleep.

It was clear that her ordeal had taken a lot out of her. Anypony who had come into contact with Twilight since she came aboard had no doubt that it was truly her and not some Changeling infiltrator, but just in case, her room was guarded at all times by a unicorn member of the crew. Finally free, she rested as the airship headed south, out of the valley, over the peaks, sights set on the capital city. The journey would take most of the day, and it was already noon. The battle had raged for some hours, and the volcanic activity had delayed the pickup of the infiltration force somewhat, as had the continued presence of the Changeling Queen. The Fillydelphia would not arrive in the capital until after dark, even at full speed, which they could not sustain for the entire journey. They were overloaded thanks to the extra ponies they were carrying.

The mood on board was mixed. Those who had been in the Hive were convinced of its destruction; they had seen the collapsing walls and the spilling magma, heard the crack and crash of falling rock. It seemed a certainty that it had been wiped out in the eruption and explosion that had followed, but that mattered little. The Changelings could simply move somewhere else and establish a brand new Hive in secrecy, which was exactly what they were most likely doing. The drones had fled, the Queen had vanished, and they could not be tracked if they didn't want to be. They could be pursued, but they had moved fast and the airships, which could overhaul them at top speed, had been rather too busy to abandon their post in a potentially fruitless chase. No doubt they would surface again at some point in the future to cause more trouble.

Many of those aboard the Fillydelphia were dissuaded by the only partial success of the mission. They had recovered Twilight, yes, but not the Element. That had escaped with the Queen, though the rank and file did not know that unless they had seen her close up. Besides that failure, the airship crew had seen two of their fellow craft go down in flames. The casualty figures were unknown to them, but it seemed clear that many ponies had suffered and died during the assault, and for it to not achieve its full objectives was a kick in the teeth. As far as many of them were concerned, Twilight Sparkle was just another pony, nothing special, and certainly not worth throwing away so many lives to save, especially if the Element that she was meant to wield was not in their possession.

On the main deck, Spitfire leaned on the railing, forehooves crossed, gazing out across the land, across Equestria. The foothills of the Hyperborean Mountains provided the backdrop to her thoughts. They were leaving the volcano behind, but the results of the eruption were still very clear to see, a vast anvil of ash and dust hanging in the air to the north, fully visible over the peaks. It would be visible from Vanhoover, for certain, and possibly even as far south as Las Pegasus. There would be debate, there would be nervous talk in the streets. What had gone on in the frozen north? Was that where the army had been marching, where the airships had been heading? What had happened to them?

Spitfire knew she should try to rest, but she had given up her cabin for Twilight to try and recover from her ordeal, and the passenger decks were crowded and hot. Far better to feel the breeze wash over her, cool her. She had had enough of heat to last her a lifetime. The Hive had been a sauna at best, and a furnace at worst, and she had led her ponies straight into it. Some of them never came back out. Her thoughts again turned to those that had been lost forever inside the mountain. She knew that one of her first tasks, after being debriefed, would be to write the letters of condolence to the families of the dead. She would have to sanitise them, of course. No specifics; no need to alarm the citizens of Equestria farther by alerting them that one of the Elements was missing. The assault force had been told, of course, because they had to look for it inside the Hive, but the wider public was kept in blissful ignorance of the theft, and of the potential danger it could pose to Equestria in the future. They had enough to worry about with the human invasion and the complete upheaval of their way of life, which had been turned on its head by the invaders from beyond the stars. 

Normal life? Normal life no longer existed in Equestria. Ponies in the street could not discuss the weather, the local hoofball team, their lives and loves and friends and families. They could only speak of the war, the terrible war that raged, hopefully far away from them, but potentially in their back yards. Information was limited; communications between cities and towns was already slow at the best of times; Equestria had no equivalent of the Imperial vox system that permitted instantaneous connection between any two points. Messages had to be sent either by post, carried in the mail wagons of the express trains or the cargo holds of the freight airships, or delivered by fast messenger Pegasus. There were only a couple of methods for faster communication, and they were reserved almost exclusively for military or royal use, such as Celestia's scrolls to and from Twilight and Luna's dream speak. News of major events in another city would usually be published in the following day's newspapers, but not anymore. Most of the presses were not running in those cities that were unaffected directly by the war. There had been a total clampdown, almost an imposition of censorship by the government. Most cities were under martial law, the only exceptions being those tiny villages out on the fringes of Equestria, some of which may even be completely unaware of anything untoward.

Most ponies, for the past few weeks, had been living in darkness, living in fear. There were curfews imposed, with soldiers and Royal Guard patrolling the streets after dark. In some towns, civilian militia had been formed, local defence forces made up of retired military ponies, hunters, farmers, anypony who might possess a gun and knew how to use it. The military could spare no equipment to arm these militia; some ponies found that they were only able to arm themselves with a pitchfork or spear, or some similarly antiquated weapon, but every set of hooves was welcomed. The citizenry was afraid, and they looked for any kind of order as an assurance that everything would be alright. The Royal Guard could only be in so many places at once. The garrisons of most towns had been stripped to the bare minimum to provide replacements and reinforcements for military units serving elsewhere, those that had taken losses in battle. The nature of the invaders meant that, despite the fighting being mostly in the east of the continent, they could potentially strike without warning and appear in any town at any moment. This was total war of the kind that Equestria had never known before. Even in the war against the Griffons, the brunt of the fighting had been shouldered by northern towns and northern units that bordered the Griffon Kingdom. This was different.

As a high-ranking officer and a member of the Special Tasks Group, Spitfire knew most of the details, both of the human invasion, their alliance with the Imperium and, obviously, the Changeling threat. She could not help think of her family and those other ponies across the land who were labouring in the unknown, with little information coming. They would not know that Manehattan had fallen, that Ponyville had been washed away, that Canterlot was back in the right hooves. She was not sure what would be worse; the knowledge that she possessed of the true, terrifying scale of the war that had unfolded, or the ignorance of what exactly had caused the silence from the east.

Even where the news got through, however, it was not widely reported. Equestria had never really operated under censorship before. Provided they obeyed the editorial guidelines, newspapers were normally free to publish what they liked. Celestia even tolerated criticism of her government and their policies, provided it didn't go too far, something which could most decidedly not be said of any other national leader on the planet. Equestria was renowned for its relatively free and liberal press, available to any citizen in the street who wanted to pay a bit or two for a copy. Now, however, the few papers that were still running only out gave local information; which trains were running, what shows were cancelled, obituaries for the dead of the town, though only rarely of their fallen sons or daughters in military service.

Such news was hard to come by anyway, and the military now placed heavy restrictions on the reporting of any details related to combat operations, which included the names of those killed during them. Revealing which units were at which battlefield could give information to the enemy during wartime, and as a result, only after official review by Celestia could details of any particular engagement actually be published, including the death notifications. Only then could the families be notified, and depending on conditions, that could be weeks after the actual death of their loved one. Though Spitfire planned to write the messages of condolence to the families of those lost in the Hive, those families might not receive them for a month or more. Even when they did, they would be met with the same dry officialese language that the official notice would have said. 

The Royal Equestrian Air Corps regrets to inform you that your husband/wife/son/daughter was killed in the performance of his/her duties. The General of The Air Corps, Secretary of Defence and Princess Celestia wish to convey their deepest sympathies at your loss, and to express their gratitude for his/her service. 

Spitfire's notes would add a little more, fleshing out a picture of the deceased while on active duty, but it too would be limited in what would actually pass the censors. Each letter would follow a similar pattern; He/she was much loved by his/her unit; Respected by all; Most conscientious in his/her duties; Brave, loyal and true to the last. 

Such was the nature of life, and death, under this new state of existence. The scale of the conflict had overwhelmed everypony, including the military and government. Any war planning that had been done previously could only have dreamed at the level of destruction and confusion that this invasion had caused. Combined with the sudden Changeling uprising as well, there was simply no way for the institutions of power to cope. Chaos had been the inevitable result. There were great logistical problems, not just for the military, but for civilians too. Some train lines had been cut, and the cargo airships dared not venture forth without escort in case of attack. All supplies coming from east of the Foal Mountain range, including Canterlot and Baltimare, had been cut off completely with the capture of those cities, especially Manehattan, which was not only a great manufacturing city but also the hub for overseas trade, having the largest port in the eastern half of Equestria. 

As a result, there were shortages. Ponies found there was little coal to heat their homes. All exotic food and drink from the Zebra lands had vanished from the shelves and market stalls, with even the staple crops of hay and various flowers being limited. Rationing had been hastily instituted, following one aspect of government planning that had actually proven useful in the scenario that had unfolded. Even in the areas that seemed fairly 'safe,' trade between towns had been curtailed out of an abundance of caution, as well as the fact that, under the emergency regulations enacted by the regional governments, much of the trade capacity had been requisitioned for military use; carts, trains and airships had all been taken over, and large quantities of food, coal, fuel oil and other supplies had been diverted to the military garrisons at Las Pegasus and Vanhoover and stockpiled for future use.

Spitfire turned from the railing. The deck was busy with crewponies, as well as members of her raiding force who had found somewhere to sit or lie during the journey back to Canterlot. Food had been served from the galley below decks, simple fare, just bread and potatoes. But it was fresh, unlike most military rations, and gratefully accepted after a hard morning's work in the heat of the Hive. Spitfire had eaten, just enough to satiate her hunger. She climbed over the slumbering forms of the Pegasi scattered about the deck, before heading down the companionway to the level below. Here, the situation was the same. She made her way astern to the cabin that had been hers. The unicorn mare guarding the door saluted.

'Ma'am!' She clicked her hooves together smartly. Spitfire returned the salute.

'How is she? Still asleep?' she questioned the guard, who nodded.

'Last time I checked, ma'am, yes.'

'I'll sit with her a while,' Spitfire replied. 'If she wakes up before we reach Canterlot then she should see a familiar face.' The guard nodded again and turned on her heel to unlock and open the door, stepping aside to allow Spitfire to enter. The Major passed through the door, and the guard closed the door again behind her.

The cabin was as quiet as it could be, given the nature of life aboard an airship. The drone of the engines could still clearly be heard, but that was inescapable in such a relatively confined space as the airship's gondola. The noise, however, evidently did not disturb Twilight. She was sound asleep, curled up beneath the blankets. A well deserved rest after her ordeal, and Spitfire made sure to sit quietly on the chair located at the small desk within the cabin. She kept an eye on Twilight, alternating between looking at her and gazing out of the small porthole-like window at the hills and field passing below. They were heading for Canterlot, but they were still a good distance away. Spitfire wondered whether that was where Celestia and Luna had gone; if so, they would have no word on the fate of the younger princess until they arrived there later in the day. In the meantime, Spitfire stayed at Twilight's bedside, keeping her company even as she slept, sitting with her as the miles rolled by outside.




The infantry trudged wearily through the thin layer of ash, like dirty snow underfoot. Despite the vast majority of the mass of the substance having been carried northwest by the winds, some had managed to settle all around the volcano in a thin layer, not enough to impede mobility, but enough to be a constant reminder of how close every one of the ponies marching through it had come to certain death.

Private Phantom was among those who marched. She was caked in sweat and dirt, missing her rifle, a picture of disheveled fatigue. Upon receipt of the recall signal, her squad leader, one of the survivors of the fighting, had rounded up his ponies and led the way to the rear. They were to head back to the rendezvous point, as per the battle plan, he reminded them all. What he didn't mention, but which they all knew, was that in order to reach the rendezvous point they would have to climb over the same hill they had already scaled in the small hours of the morning. It was no easier going the other way; in fact it was considerably worse. Legs which had been fresh before were tired now, and minds were clouded by thoughts of life and death. Many ponies stumbled time and again on the steep slopes and loose scree. The hillside did not aid them in their ascent, nor in their descent on the other side. The valley beyond where they had spent the previous night was where they were to regroup, and the assault force was to lick its wounds.

Phantom's mind was still awhirl with the knowledge that she had been mere seconds from death; most probably that had been the case a dozen times during the battle, with some drone lining up a magic blast or about to leap on her from behind, only to be cut down by some other alert soldier. But the only incident she could picture, the only one that mattered, was the pyroclastic flow being halted in its tracks by Princess Celestia, saving not just her, but the rest of her squad, the rest of her company, and the rest of the entire infantry force from complete annihilation. She had done it without breaking a sweat and in the middle of a fierce battle with the Changeling Queen, only to go and immediately rejoin the fight without missing a beat. Phantom was in newfound awe of her princess, she had to admit to herself, and who wouldn't be?

Her shock was as great as any when she had seen Princess Luna fall, but again she had witnessed Celestia's compassion as she was immediately at her sister's side. Weaponless, Phantom could only watch on as it seemed that Chrysalis would finish the job before moving on to mopping up the rest of the assault force, but instead she had vanished, much to Phantom's relief. From a distance, it seemed like Luna was still moving, but she could not be sure, and before any confirmation could be obtained, she had disappeared along with Celestia in a flash of light. Phantom had offered prayers for the safety of both princesses, and for the airship crews that she had seen go down in flames. With so many airships assembled in one place, she had to wonder if there were any left to patrol the rest of Equestria.

Formerly gathered in the line of battle close to the volcano, the airship fleet now hung above the valley to the south, beyond the hills, where the rendezvous was to take place. Both the warships and the troop transports were gathered there, and the survivors of the fighting on the ground were arriving, long strings of ponies coming over the hills, stragglers bringing up the rear. They had lived through the greatest battle of their lives so far. Phantom, for one, hoped never to see its like again. The fact that they had taken losses could be seen just by looking around. Here and there, ponies were being organised by squad or by company, and there were clearly empty spots where ponies should have been standing. One company in particular seemed to be down to a mere dozen, instead of the usual hundred. 

In the valley, a makeshift field hospital was being set up. There were no tents or proper equipment, save for what had been carried in reserve aboard one or two of the transport airships. Everything available had been brought down to help treat the wounded, and there were plenty to treat. Shrapnel wounds from splintered rock, burns from magic, stab wounds from horns or fangs, crush wounds from trampling. Fighting the Changelings did not come without a price. The wounded would be treated, and the dead, those that could be recovered from the battlefield, would be buried later. No doubt some bodies had been lost beneath the pyroclastic flow that coated half of the valley in ash and rock. They, and the bodies of those who had died inside the Hive, would remain, perhaps for eternity.

Phantom's squad marched down from the hillside, and the Sergeant called a halt. Phantom gratefully collapsed into a heap against a large rock, resting her weary hooves, though the hard ground did little to help her aching body. All around her were tired ponies, many with minor wounds not deemed worthy of treatment just yet, as the field hospital was being reserved for major injuries. Some ponies were sipping from their canteens or eating bland but nutritious energy bars or granola snacks. She felt little hunger, however, despite having not eaten since the very early hours. She was happy just to sit and rest and look up at the sky. For whatever reason, fate and the princess had decreed that she would survive, that she would live to see another day, to see Celestia's sun rise once more. For the first time since the sudden orders had come in the day before, Phantom felt safe. the fear and dread that had permeated her for the past twenty four hours finally fading. More orders may come, and there may be more battles to fight, but for now, for a while, at least, she could just be thankful to be alive.