//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Redheart's War // by SockPuppet //------------------------------// Nurse Redheart was already sitting at her desk in the supervisory nurses' office when her husband, Accounts Payable, arrived at noon. He dropped his lunchbox on her desk and sat down across from her. "Busy morning, Honey?" "It’s good to see you, AP," Redheart said. "Not too busy. Had to give a colt some stitches. Buckball. Slow day for the new doctor." AP nodded. "Is the new guy getting any better?" Redheart frowned and flicked her ears. "He'll be a fine general practitioner in a quiet clinic somewhere. Emergency Rooms, well... hrmmmm." She munched on a piece of salmon jerky, fighting to chew it with pony teeth. Even after nine years of marriage, AP never had figured out where she acquired that particular taste. He didn't know a single other pony who liked fish. The smoky stench always bothered his own appetite. "I wonder if the twins are having a good day?" Redheart asked. "Contrail had some sniffles. If he's getting sick he'll be crabby for the teachers and Dandelion will sit on him." "Like any big sister should," AP quipped. "You shouldn't believe my brothers, I almost hardly never beat them up." "You said you have to work late tonight?" AP asked. "Yeah, Nurse Snowheart is sick. After my shift, I'm covering her prenatal class—" KABOOM! Rainbow Dash blasted in through the emergency room doors with a flash of colors, screaming, "Help her! Help! Help! Help!" Redheart dashed out of the office. "What happened?" Redheart demanded as she took a small filly wearing a pink bow from Rainbow's hooves. AP followed at a run, but he stuck close to the wall, out of the way. He was an accountant, not a nurse or a doctor. "Don't know!" Rainbow Dash hovered, wringing her forehooves together. "Apple Bloom was in the attic at the Acres. She screamed and stumbled down the ladder and collapsed. She was turning blue, so I rainboomed her here." Dr. Surgical Steel galloped up, levitating his stethoscope to Apple Bloom's ribs. "She's barely breathing. What happened?" "I said I don't know!" screamed Rainbow Dash, wagging her hooves at the doctor. "You have to tell me what, what, what I'm dealing with!" Dr. Steel snapped back. AP's heart pounded, his vision getting dim around the edges, picturing his twins, his little filly and colt, and how he would feel if one of them... if something terrible... His wife was there. Redheart was in charge. Apple Bloom would be fine.  Although Apple Bloom looked pretty bad... and the new doctor seemed to be under the misimpression that he was in charge.   Redheart examined the filly's body, her hooves working the yellow coat against the grain, her nose inches from Apple Bloom's skin. "Doc," Rainbow Dash said, pointing a hoof, her voice plaintive, "she's bluer than I am! Do something!" "I can't go around treating what I don't know what it is!" "Four, six, eight—these are stings," Redheart said. "A dozen. Two dozen. Three dozen. Rainbow Dash, is Apple Bloom allergic to stings? Did she get into a hornets' nest in that attic?" Rainbow's head snapped over to look at Redheart. "I—I don't know! Applejack is on her way, but it's a long run. AJ would know." Redheart looked at Dr. Steel. "Anaphylactic shock." "We can't—how can—that's a guess!" he spluttered. Redheart pointed at Nurse Tenderheart. "Intubation kit." She pointed at an orderly. "Anaphylaxis kit." Dr. Steel's face paled and his jaw worked, clenching and unclenching, his ears drooping. "Dash," Redheart said, her voice calm, with the same soothing tones she used when one of her foals was upset. "You just carried her. How much does she weigh?" "I... I don't know." Redheart cocked her head, studying the unmoving filly. "Thirty-seven, Forty pounds. Doctor, potion dosage?" "I, I, I, what?" Dr. Steel stammered. Redheart looked into his eyes. Firmly: "Forty pound filly. Allergy potion. Dosage." "Save her save her save her!" Dash said, dancing from hoof to hoof. The doctor looked at the ceiling for a second, mumbling the mathematics. Loudly: "Six hundred." The orderly, an older unicorn stallion, sprinted up with the anaphylaxis kit. Redheart ripped it from his aura, opened it, and twisted a dial on the injector. "Six hundred," Redheart repeated. Dash leaped into the air, flapping in panic, blowing a breeze across the medical team, knocking off Redheart's white cap. Her pink bun fell loose, mane spilling down her back. Grabbing the injector between her forehooves, Redheart slammed it into the inside of Apple Bloom's thigh, pushed the plunger, and tossed the injector to the orderly. AP's wings trembled and tears blurred his vision. Sweet Luna, Apple Bloom was blue, especially her face.  Nurse Tenderheart shoved an intubation kit at the doctor. He nodded and ripped it open. Tenderheart's hooves forced Apple Bloom's jaws apart. Apple Bloom's pink bow made a limp frame of color around the slack face. "C'mon," AP whispered, "c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon..." His few bites of lunch soured in his belly, turning acidic and vile. His wings flitted. The doors burst open again. Applejack and Big Mac stormed toward their little sister. Applejack shouted, "What's going on here what're y'all doin'—" AP moved to block them, flaring his wings wide. "No!" he shouted. "Let them work!" Applejack stopped, her face turning hard. She slapped AP's left wing down, looking over it. AP looked back, over his own withers. Dr. Steel inserted the breathing tube into Apple Bloom's mouth, pushing in— "Missed," Redheart said, her ear to the filly's chest. "Esophagus." The doctor pulled the tube back out and tried again. "Missed," Redheart said. The doctor tried again. "Missed! Doctor..." Dr. Steel's eyes widened. He looked at Redheart. "Nurse—nurse, you do it. She's dying." At the word dying, Applejack and Big Mac screamed. Applejack bowled AP clean over, stepping on his wing. Mac trampled on AP's tail. Applejack stood next to the medical team, screaming incoherently in the doctor's face.   With a single leap, Redheart was on the gurney, straddling Apple Bloom's tiny chest, kneeling over the dying filly.  The flash and pop! of a teleport filled the emergency room. Twilight and Starlight appeared, a dozen feet away, each holding one of the other Crusaders.  Redheart grabbed the intubation kit from the doctor's aura, cradled it in her forehooves, closed her eyes, and took two deep breaths. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle shouted, screeching as soon as the noise of the teleport faded. Their shrieks added to the bedlam that reigned over Ponyville Hospital's Emergency Room. Discord appeared with another teleport. "I was sensing some wonderful chaos and—oh my!" "Apple Bloom..." Big Mac howled, inches from Redheart, his voice thin. Rainbow Dash landed and put a wing on Applejack's withers, jostling Redheart. With a smooth motion, Redheart inserted the tube, down Apple Bloom's throat, and the filly arched her back and gasped as it pushed past the swelling and toward her lungs. She breathed in, greedy for air, and Nurse Tenderheart began squeezing rhythmically on the rubber bladder attached to the tube. The filly struggled, weakly, under Redheart's weight and her eyes cracked open. The blue color began to fade, her normal color slowly returning. Her forehoof reached up to the tube and tugged. Redheart took the hoof between her own, protecting the breathing tube. "Apple Bloom," she said. "We've got you. It's okay." The filly's eyes closed again and Redheart laid her small hoof onto her chest. Applejack hugged Mac and the others quieted down, the bedlam fading. Redheart hopped off the gurney and pointed at AP. "Dear? Take the family up to ICU and get them calmed down. We'll meet them up there once we've got her stabilized." Forty-five minutes later, AP was sitting in the Nurse Supervisor's office, staring sickly at his lunch, appetite completely gone. He had icepacks on his wing and tail. Dr. Steel wandered into the office, glanced around, and sat down in Redheart's chair. "I've never been in here before," he said. "We doctors leave the nurses their sanctuary." "How is she?" AP asked. Dr. Steel sighed and rubbed his face. "Apple Bloom'll be fine, in a week or ten days, no thanks to me. I—I screwed up." "You knew when to step back and let Redheart take over," AP said, pointing a feather at the doctor. "You and your team saved that filly. You all saved that filly's life." The doctor nodded and looked at AP. "How—by Celestia and Luna, Redheart was cool. She was ice. I've never seen anypony, not even my professors, quite that cool. How... AP, she's your wife. How does she do it? She's so... nice. So normal. It was like she was a completely different mare. How can I learn to be like that?" AP shook his head. "They don't teach that in school." The doctor's ears perked up. "Then... where did she learn it? Can I learn from her?" AP pointed a feather at the wall behind the doctor. He turned the chair around.  Five different senior nurses took shifts as the Emergency Room's supervisory nurse, at least one of them on duty every single minute of the year. The five shared the office, so five sets of diplomas and credentials hung on the walls in fancy frames. Redheart's section of the wall held something additional that none of the others had: Beneath the ornate diplomas and certifications, a simple wooden frame held a six-inch scrap of fabric behind a piece of glass. The fabric had once been a medium-gray, but old bloodstains and dried mud ruined the color. A Guard medic's red cross patch and corporal's stripes were visible through the dark-brown bloodstains. Next to the red cross was another patch, a gold sunburst—Celestia's cutie mark—inscribed with a black block numeral 1.  Embroidered under the sun were small black letters: THE HOUSEHOLD BATTALION. Above the sun, in larger blood-red letters: PERSEVERE. Dr. Steel's face went white. "By Twilight's wings... Redheart was... she was one of...?" AP nodded, his throat dry. "One of Celestia's Own." Early one morning several months later, AP woke up, cold despite the blankets. A bitter winter storm rattled the bedroom windows. A gust shook the house and fine snow tinkled against the window glass. He scooted a few inches to his left, trying to get closer to Redheart. The stout earth mare made a fuzzy space heater beneath the blankets on these cold winter nights. Unfurling a wing, he reached for her... and found her side of the bed empty. Darn it. Of course. It was two days before Hearth's Warming.  He would go find her and talk to her. This year, he would refuse her excuses and demand she talk. It had been nine years. He would not let it turn into ten. He would find out why the holiday season always made her so sullen. He would find a way to help bear this load for her, whatever it was. AP gasped as his hooves touched the cold floor, then struggled into his slippers. He stopped in front of the twins' bedroom, listened, and heard no noise. They would wake up soon, rambunctious and ready for their day. Their preschool was closed for the holiday... maybe AP's brother could foalsit them if he got Redheart talking.  AP headed downstairs, finding Redheart sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the snowy night through a large window, a single jar of fireflies casting dim light and deep shadows. His breath caught. She was so beautiful, this mare he loved, the mare who was the mother of his foals, the mare with whom he planned to welcome more foals someday. It still always amazed him how much she loved him in return.  Her pink mane fell messily around her face and her bright blue eyes moved down to stare at her right forehoof, staring at the ugly scar that marred the soft frog on the underside. The skin remained puckered and dark, even so many years after... whatever... had happened to it. "Hey, dear," she said, looking up. Her voice was gravelly and thick, not its usual soft soprano. "I'm sorry I woke you." "Redheart, love," he said and sat in the chair next to her. "Nightmare?" "You can't prove that." Her coffee mug wasn't steaming anymore, perhaps an hour cold. "Luna?" he asked. "No." Redheart shook her head. "Not this time of year. Too many of my old friends need her tonight, too." "Tell me." She shook her head. "It's—it's still classified. It's classified forever." "You think I'll turn you in?" "There are things ordinary ponies are better off not knowing." He took her hoof between his forehooves and kissed her scar. She grimaced, her face twisting with the old memories, then smiled at him. "Thank you. For... for everything. For loving me." He lifted her chin up with the feathers of his left wing. "I can't help my wife if I don't know." She looked away from him, out the window into the black night. "There are parts... parts I can tell... it's not all a Royal secret." He kissed her lips. "Please. You're in pain. I'm your husband." "It's to protect you." "If you tell me, it'll be a weight you don't have to bear alone." "Have you ever looked at my old Guard stuff?" Redheart asked. "I did. Yeah. When you were pregnant, when I turned the storage room into the nursery. I had to move all your things." Redheart bit her lip. AP asked, "Are you ashamed?" "No! No, never. I'm proud of everything I did. I just can't stand to see those medals, because they remind me of too many things. I didn't really deserve..." "I don't think I believe that. I've seen you running that emergency room. Everypony else, losing their heads, but you?" "Doctor Steel is coming around. I've got him intubating the training dummy while blindfolded. Next time I see Trixie, I'll buy some fireworks and see how the doctor does with—" Redheart grinned "—distractions." "That's good," AP said. "But you're trying to change the subject on me." Redheart's smirk fell. "Yeah. My friends, the ones who died. They deserved the medals more than me. The Guard likes to hang decorations on living ponies. Living ponies make better copy in the newspaper." "I don't know guard stuff," AP said, "and the library didn't have a uniform manual, I checked, but anypony can recognize the—" Redheart grimaced. "Horse apples!" "The Cross, love. The Cross of Valor. The Guard never, ever gives that to the wrong pony." "This time, they did," Redheart said. "I probably deserved the Silver Shield." "Huh?" "One level down." "Honey," AP said, "if we went to a formal event—a coronation, the Grand Galloping Gala, a diplomatic ball—the Cross would give you the social precedence of a countess. You're not just some other ex-Guard. That's the highest medal there is. What happened to you?" "Four," Redheart said, her voice thick with suppressed tears. "Four times..." "What?" AP asked. "Four times what?" "Momma? Daddy?" said a tiny voice behind them. They both turned to look at their daughter, Dandelion. The tiny earth filly held a stuffed bear under one foreleg. She wore yellow hoofie pajamas decorated with Fluttershy's cutie mark, Fluttershy being her favorite Bearer. (Her twin brother Contrail, being a pegasus colt, of course idolized Rainbow Dash.) "Good morning!" Redheart called, her voice instantly cheerful. Redheart scooped up Dandelion and spun her in a circle, then pulled the filly to her chest in a tight hug. Dandelion squealed happily and Redheart made an mmmmmmm! sound. Dandelion said, "Contrail pooped and the stinkies woke me up. Can I have breakfast?" Redheart laughed and smiled at AP. "You want to deal with the mess? I'll make waffles." "My diaper needs changies too," Dandelion said. "But I hasn't pooped." "I'll change that diaper," Redheart declared and kissed Dandelion’s nose. "Your magnanimity astounds me," AP replied and kissed Redheart, then Dandelion, before starting towards the twins' bedroom to fetch Contrail. Redheart chuckled and tossed Dandelion onto her withers and trotted toward the changing table. "Hey Daddy?" Dandelion asked. "Momma said 'horse apples.' Does she gotta sit in time out?" Two hours later, with AP's little brother watching the twins, Redheart and AP sat at the kitchen table again. The sun, low but crystal clear in the winter morning, brightened the kitchen. Pegasi in brightly colored parkas cleared away the remaining clouds from the overnight storm. "Four times," AP prompted. "You said, 'four times.'" "After basic and advanced training, I was on active duty eleven months before I got hurt too badly to stay a regular. They busted me out into the reserves, so I went to college. I got awarded the Wounded in Action decoration four times in those eleven months. Plus so many other decorations I wish I'd never gotten..." She was shaking. He held her forehoof between his. "Such as?" "Such as," Redheart replied, "the Prisoner of War medal." AP's head spun. He released her hoof and grabbed onto the table, balancing himself. "That was my all-black ribbon," Redheart said. "In with my others." "There was also a medal in with your stuff that was strange," AP said. "Mother-of-pearl, maybe?" "Hippogriffian. Hippogriffs are great sailors but lousy soldiers. We got seconded to their fleet as marines." "Tell me." "I can tell you about three of the wounds," she said. "And that covers the time I got taken prisoner, too. The fourth story is a secret that'll go to my grave." "What happened?" he said. "Equestria hasn't had a war in over a century. Monsters?" "The most vile monsters that the world knows." He frowned, considering. "Hydras? Cockatrices?" She chuckled, a grim and humorless sound. "Not dumb animals, thinking monsters. Pirates. Slavers. Evil in its most distilled form. Hostis sapiens generis, the common enemy of all races. Celestia sent us, supported by the Hippogriff Navy, far to the south, beyond Equestria." The blood drained from AP's head and the bright room went dim. "You—you fought in the Southern Expedition? I kept up with that in the newspaper. I had—I had no idea my future wife... when I was reading the articles..." She nodded her head and raised her scarred hoof. "This scar," she said, "I got it a few months before the Southern Expedition. We didn't know it at the time, but some mercenaries were being paid by the slave traders to probe Equestria's defenses." "The Southern Marches? That was in the newspapers, too." "The Southern Marches. This scar was worth my first Wounded in Action, my Combat Action Badge, my Prisoner of War decoration, and some other crap they hung on me that I didn't deserve. It was my first scrap." "Scrap?" "We never called it a 'fight' or a 'battle.' In Celestia's Own, we called them 'scraps.'" "Tell me." "You... you won't like the stories," Redheart said, staring into his eyes. "And I'm not going to lie, not at all. I've never lied to you once, in all our years together. I won't start now. Every detail. If you can't hear about me bleeding into the dirt, if you can't hear about the ponies or 'griffs I killed, stop me now." AP swallowed twice. "Honey... you—you've killed? You were a medic." She gave a harsh laugh, on the edge of maniacal. "Do...do you think slavers obey the laws of war? Do you think pirates would give quarter to a wounded soldier, just because he was bleeding to death? Do you think I would allow my patient to be murdered in front of me?" He shook his head. "No, you wouldn't, would you? Tell me. Please. Let me help you. Let me love you. Let me carry this weight with you." She glowered at the scar on her hoof. She sat, unmoving, for more than a minute.  AP put a hoof on her shoulder. "Honey?"  "I don't know the big picture, so don't ask. I was just a medic. Not an officer, not a general, not a princess. All I can tell you is what happened in front of my nose. Don't ask me why this or why that, because I just went where the officers ordered." He nodded and scooted his chair closer to her. She leaned against his chest and her tears wet his coat. AP wrapped his wings around her.  She trembled. Redheart started, "It was about a week after the Summer Sun Celebration, and First Battalion, the Household Battalion—'Celestia's Own,' before Luna's return—was in the south of Equestria, near Somnambula…"