“Heads down!”
The incoming shells came down with a sound resembling a choir of screaming fillies, a sound not entirely unfamiliar to Sergeant Decimus. He dove for the ground immediately and covered his head, praying that his expediency would be his salvation. Mud splashed high into the air. The earth shook with violent, explosive force.
Decimus felt dirt and gravel raining down around him for a moment before it was clear that he had not yet become another casualty statistic to be censored. The changeling sergeant looked over to his long-time comrade, Corporal Spurious, who also appeared to be uninjured. Decimus scrambled to get back up and compose himself as his subordinate did the same.
“I think they missed us!” Corporal Spurious choked out between gasps as he spat a fair amount of blood out of his mouth, “Hell of a night sir!”
“Astute observation corporal!” Decimus replied, letting out a pained laugh as he concluded that he may have cracked a rib diving to the ground, “But I don’t think they were aiming for our battery! Headcount!”
The eight other members of the howitzer team called out quickly, except for Private Quintus who simply made some kind of panicked cry, but he appeared to be breathing. The experienced corporals Spurious, Bactrim and Clelia were rapidly recovering, but the recruits still appeared shaken out of their minds.
Many of the fighters under the sergeant’s command were still green, a scenario not uncommon for any surviving drone at this point in the war. Many of these changelings were hastily gathered replacements for the many more drones lost in the first months of the retreat.
These new replacements were scrambled together out of the rural occupation garrisons, which had seen varying levels of combat, some having seen almost none until the past month. As it turns out, being a prison camp security guard was very different from fighting on the front. For whatever it was worth, Decimus at least hadn’t lost anybody tonight, and there were still enough ‘lings to operate the howitzer.
Upon a quick assessment of the area, it appeared as though the other five fire teams were operational as well. Across the entire battery, overturned lanterns and the occasional searchlight illuminated the sight of changelings scrambling to reorganize their positions in the aftermath of the counter-artillery barrage.
Though the battery worked to reorganize, Decimus knew that several kilometers over the hill ahead and past the trenches of the front line lay the Equestrian counter-battery, probably much better prepared and becoming more accurate while the changelings tripped over one another to maintain any kind of order in their position.
“Well then, it looks like we’re all still alive!” Spurious said, the blue changeling working to stand back up. He had always been one to try and make light of the situation.
“If you can call this living!” corporal Bactrim, a single-fanged changeling quipped back. Bactrim had served with the sergeant nearly as long as Spurious, having been on the fire team since the changelings were still pushing forward into this damnable pony country.
The sound of gunshots cut through the chatter as the team once again collectively dove to the ground. Several beads of light blitzed through the sky above the fire team for a brief moment. Fortunately, the enemy fire flew far too high and wide to kill, but the bullets proved no less threatening for it.
“Keep the banter to a minimum!” Decimus replied as he turned to face his team, “That Equestrian recon team is still posted up in the hill!” he shouted, “For the love of the Queen what is our perimeter defense section doing?“
“Sir!” The female changeling next to Decimus began, “I don’t believe we have a perimeter defense anymore!”
Her name was Corporal Clelia, and she was perhaps the most competent of the group next to Decimus himself. She had served nearly every role a drone could hold in this conflict, from field medic to machine gunner.
As Sergeant Decimus looked above the sandbag barrier in front of him, he realized the plume of smoke from where the counter-artillery strike had hit was conspicuously close to where their support MG nest was supposed to be firing from. In all likelihood, the security team was gone.
“We need that team suppressed before they call out the battery properly this time!” the Sergeant commanded.
“We don’t have infantry!” a worried recruit cried out.
“We are the infantry!” Corporal Clelia shot back, crawling towards her weapon as the other two corporals followed suit.
The changelings leaned up against the hastily-erected fortifications, weapons in their hooves. Clelia fired the first shot before Bactrim and Spurious joined in. Soon the entire team, then the entire battery was laying down suppressive fire on the enemy spotters,.
“Not too smart of them to use tracer rounds!” corporal Spurious noted as he fired at the ponies hiding in the foxhole ahead.
Within minutes, in what Decimus imagined was the result of a combination of abject desperation and panic, four pegasi flew from the foxhole into the violet, smoke-stained night sky in an attempt at a retreat. Despite the cover of darkness, it was clear that the suppressive fire had a profound effect on the ponies. In a moment, four broken equine bodies fell back to the earth, slamming into the semi-frozen ground with certain lethality.
“Confirmed kills on the spotter team sir!” Corporal Clelia announced, a hint of pride in her voice.
“Hail our Queen! For the hive!” Private Helix, one of the new replacement drones, cheered. Several of his fellow recruits joined in as some portion of the battery became filled with a new vigor at having survived the skirmish. Decimus was not moved by this optimism.
The sergeant had seen this evening before several times. Scattered Equestrian infantry would inevitably manage to break through the line kilometers ahead at several points, and the night would become a balancing act of preventing further artillery callouts on their position while attempting to be as accurate as possible when firing their own damned cannons.
What was especially worrying was that the enemy had already let loose a close counter-barrage, and the perimeter team was evidently gone.. The enemy spotters were gone as well, but more would come. Even ignoring that, there was no way of telling if the Equestrians already gathered enough intelligence to feel confident trying to attempt firing on the changeling battery again. He couldn’t imagine the trenches were in a much better scenario right now.
Still, there’s no order to retreat yet.
“Back into gun positions! Bactrim, begin priming more shells!” Sergeant Decimus said, putting his thoughts back towards their objective. The sergeant’s eyes proceeded to rapidly scan the battery for the newest member of the squad, “Private Quintus, is our radio still functional?”
“Y-y-y-“ the young changeling began to stammer out.
“Are you a larva Private? Out with it!” Decimus pressed the nervous soldier.
“Y-yes sir! Radio is fully operational, receiving shortly!” he cried back, adjusting some knobs on the large saddlebag-like device.
Sergeant Decimus felt a degree of pity for the young bug. He certainly hadn’t seen much combat, and he definitely had never been tasked with operating a radio at the front line. Still, this was no place to show weakness, especially under the circumstances.
It was remarkable how much danger they were in while being this far away from the front. Though it seemed to Decimus as if every battle had started to become like this. What had happened to the once-infallible swarm?
The changelings had suffered a brutal winter, having been pushed back across the entire country by the Equestrians. Each step they had taken over the past several months was backward, and it seemed as though they were all collectively scrambling over one another to outrun the ponies chasing them down.
This war in its entirety had become humiliating. Rage and a deep sense of embarrassment filled Decimus every moment he stopped to consider that for all the pastel-colored equines he had ended, they still overwhelmed the swarm by sheer numbers and logistical advantage. The promise of a quick and decisive victory had been crushed by seemingly endless numbers of tanks, planes and cannon fodder from the east. Worst of all, the opponents dealing out this vicious counterattack were ponies of all creatures!
In spite of his injured pride as a drone, cruel reality remained very clear to Decimus: The ponies had become wiser to their position in the wider world, and their massive waves of well-supplied troops showed it. The swarm was simply outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and outgunned.
The sergeant knew that the defensive front had already been broken through in several places and was likely much worse than command let on. It was anybody’s guess as to if they had already been cut off from the rest of the forces retreating to the border. This crusade had proven itself to be a fool’s errand, and it was he who was paying for the mistakes. He considered himself lucky for surviving this far into the retreat.
But then, luck doesn’t last forever.
“Sir!” called Private Quintus interrupting the sergeant’s brief reflections, “HQ reports that Yellow Jacket Platoon spotter is requesting fire mission! Grid 230742, direction is 60 degrees, requesting we destroy advance Equestrian infantry position!”
Sergeant Decimus reacted efficiently as though he were a machine. The sergeant confirmed and reiterated the instructions to his comrades as the other fire teams down the line of the battery followed suit.
“A-adjusting! Touchdown in 30 seconds!” Quintus spoke out over the radio. The changeling sounded as though he was on the verge of tears.
The changelings moved with remarkable efficiency. Quickly, the lack of perimeter defenses was quickly compensated for by the rapid emplacement of several machine guns that a few of the experienced drones began to operate with relative ease and a degree of confidence, watching the hills for any new interlopers. Orders began to flow in alongside truckloads of shells, making up the oil that kept this terrible machine running.
Shell after shell streaked through the violet night sky, heavy obscured by the growing numbers of smoke pillars arising over the hills ahead. Each call of the howitzer was followed by a distant explosion as a response, presumably accompanying Chrysalis knows how many deaths. The changeling war machine continued to hum along through the night, but it was not without error.
Decimus saw the growing clumsiness in each reload of the cannons as fatigue took hold over the hours. He saw the growing delays in logistics leading to their firing speed outpacing their resupply. Orders were being constantly dictated by HQ at a rate that had started to outpace the ability of the battery to fulfill them. Several of the trucks used to ferry munitions had become stuck in one of hundreds of craters littering the province, and the third fire team appeared to have suffered some kind of barrel malfunction that limited their ability to perform for at least half an hour.
These misfortunes could have perhaps been prevented with extra preparation time, but this battlefield had been used before and certainly hadn’t seen any upkeep during the retreat. The “legacy” equipment supplied was woefully outdated and undermaintained. The “battled tested veterans” were weary and underfed, and the “fresh” recruits were collapsing of fatigue, hardly trained as they were thrown into the empty spaces becoming more common in the ranks.
Sergeant Decimus recalled the fantastical blitz through the early battles of the war. The state of his unit like he saw now would have been worthy of disciplinary measures a year ago, but now this appeared to be the best they could muster in such circumstances. Here he was, shouting orders as he always had, firing the same guns, but where was the glory? Where was that old resolve? That old feeling that the swarm could topple anything? The sergeant found himself longing for the days when the ponies hardly knew how to hold their weapons.
Decimus had a feeling that he was stuck in the middle of a bitter cycle that he had seen over a dozen times. These recruits would soon come to the same revelations he had and would lose any confidence they had as time went on. These battles would drag on in attrition until an inevitable, blood retreat. This was assuming they weren’t totally annihilated before then.
Even if they were to survive this, Decimus knew he would continue to scrape by and have to deal with as many new faces as comrades he had lost with each encounter. Each time, the new faces were less experienced than the last. He found familiarity in his remaining corporals, but they too were becoming fewer each month it seemed.
These sentiments continued to stew in the back of the sergeant’s mind, yet he still operated as the cog he was trained to be and continued to shout his orders at his subordinates. Regardless of if his predictions would prove true, the guns continued to fire and the shells continued to land in the front. Somewhere ahead, a massive plume of flame illuminated the hill, and for a brief moment the horizon was clearly seen.
Several figures appeared over the hill, proceeding to swiftly navigate the underbrush as though they were wild animals accustomed to it. Though they were far away and were but mere shapes to the recruits, Decimus and his corporals recognized the sight immediately. The way the figures slipped through the night, nearly disappearing into the inky blackness ahead was undeniable.
“Jaegers?” Spurious exclaimed.
“What in Tartarus are they doing this far back from the front?” Bactrim started in a worried tone, “The jaegers never get pulled back this early, what’s happening?” The changeling turned to his sergeant, hoping for reassuring explanation.
Decimus said nothing and continued to stare at the figures. Jaegers had been widely known as masters of infiltration since the battle of Canterlot so many years ago. They served to envelop enemy infantry, often filling up the parts of the line unaccounted for along the way. They were a vital defensive component of the recent battles. Seeing them on an ordered retreat was a bad sign, but what was worse was seeing that they were retreating from the same direction the pegasi spotters had come from earlier. It was quite a large possibility that the entire defense in that direction was failing. Decimus turned back to his fire team to dictate the next set of orders to come through the radio.
“What is the major thinking? We’re sitting ducks if the line’s been broken again. We shouldn’t be here!” Bactrim continued, unimpressed with his superior’s lack of reply, “We haven’t even had a security team since they nearly killed us with the barrage earlier! They haven’t sent anybody over here for anything but to deliver more damned shells!” the changeling said, his anxiety rapidly increasing as he fumbled the munitions he was loading.
“Bactrim, get ahold of yourself,” Corporal Clelia said, attempting to diffuse the slow panic beginning to spread down the battery.
“We need an answer!” he fired back.
“We’ll get one,” Clelia said, turning to face the sergeant.
Decimus nodded slowly, processing his thoughts and maintaining his composure, he approached a sweating Private Quintus and began to operate the radio. A very short conversation followed, culminating in a very clear order.
“Major Vanco has not ordered a retreat at this time. Continue barrage-box suppression until ordered otherwise,” an emotionless tone conveyed through the receiver.
Decimus turned to face his squad and relayed the orders for continued fire at the predetermined coordinates provided to him. Their function now was essentially just to prolong the ponies while changelings pulled back. It was another defeat.
“Sir! We can’t expect to be perfectly fine here while we have our best units off the front already. If they advance on us now there’s nothing we can do! The major has lost his mind!” Bactrim called out, irritation overtaking fear.
Decimus continued to read out coordinates as the recruits fearfully looked at one another.
“For starters, you can start doing your job again,” Corporal Spurious interjected, “We’ve gotten this far following our orders and we need you to help push the next shell. Don’t lose your head Bact.”
Corporal Clelia began to turn the valves of the howitzer, adjusting for the next shot.
“We’ve gotten this far!” Bactrim retorted, “What about Aixan and Deztrix? Mintzi and Carapice? What did this retreat do for them? Doing nothing different and hoping we end up any different is madness!”
Spurious and Celia winced at the names of their fallen comrades. Decimus stood unmoving, as his head turned towards the raving corporal.
Many of the nearby recruits were now nearly petrified at this exchange, except for Private Helix, who was unabashedly trying to ignore Bactrim’s outburst as he assisted with positioning the howitzer. Quintus continued to fumble about with his radio, his expression similar to that of a prisoner ascending a set of stairs to the gallows.
Sergeant Decimus moved towards his longtime comrade, baring his fangs as he began to speak, “The retreating drones on the front need our support corporal,” he said while letting out a hiss, “We have orders. Your opinion on the matter is irrelevant,” Decimus moved closer, “Unless you’re deciding to become insubordinate.” Decimus emitted a low growl as he came face to face with Bactrim.
“S-sir?” Corporal Spurious stuttered, taken aback by the sudden hostility Decimus displayed. He had never taken such a tone with Bactrim before.
The sergeant took Bactrim by the collar of his uniform and pulled him away from the team as he continued in a lower tone as to not allow the others to hear, “You need to keep it together,” he said, gesturing towards the frightened recruits, “They’re relying on us now,” he said, glare softening, “We’ve made it this far west, I’ll get us out of here, but you need to have faith and do your duty.”
Corporal Bactrim breathed with relief, seeing that Decimus had no intention of harming him. He silently nodded with agreement, looking at the sergeant with an expression that seemed to say “I trust you”.
Decimus loosened his grip on Bactrim and stood tall, addressing the weary team, “Carry on.”
The drones began to continue the same mechanical process of receiving Decimus’s relayed orders, turning the valves to aim, priming and pushing the shell through, and finally firing yet another round. The process had grown noticeably slower than it had been earlier, but all continued to work at the task.
Not my finest bluff, but he can keep it together long enough for us to retreat.
In all honesty, Decimus related to Bactrim more than he would admit. A mere year ago, he would have gladly thrown his life into any danger for the swarm. After all, it was the destiny of all changelings. Now, he felt a hesitancy growing in the back of his mind that he had never felt before.
As the barrage dragged on, Decimus noted several trucks moving past the battery. He wondered if they were to finally prepare to tow the guns and retreat, but each glimmer of hope he had for retrieval was stamped out as the trucks continued to drive past without any sign of return. Bactrim among several others anxiously continued to look at each vehicle driving by, but remained silent. Decimus remained silent about his observation that the trucks were headed to HQ.
The process continued for another half-hour before the dreaded encounter occurred. It had started with distant gunshots becoming louder, then smoke over the horizon began to obscure the view over the hill ahead. Finally, the faint buzzing and humming of distant changeling wings made it clear that a hasty and troubled retreat was headed their way.
Screaming cut through the night sky as a platoon of drones came rushing down the hill in a full retreat. Those who attempted to take to the sky were cut down rapidly by gunfire coming from behind, concealed by the continually rising pillars of smoke.
Bactrim, Clelia, and Spurious all looked to their sergeant immediately upon seeing the distant carnage growing near.
“Combat positions!” Decimus ordered, grabbing his rifle.
Clelia immediately positioned herself on the MG emplacement and soon began to fire into the smoke once it was clear that there were too few remaining allies ahead to pose a significant risk of friendly fire. Certainly no changelings remained in the sky.
Spurious and Bactrim immediately leaned up against the same sandbags as before and awaited the inevitable. Private Helix and the recruits did much of the same as the entire battery prepared for a desperate defense. Gun teams all across the line readied themselves. Finally, the cause of their troubles was made known.
“Bats!” Clelia cried out.
They came from the smoke as demons piled through the gates of Tartarus in ancient myth. Thestrals were natural predators of the night, and they were always camouflaged under these conditions. Their advance was swift and merciless. The dreaded “vampire ponies” could see perfectly well in these conditions, and it showed as several gunshots immediately rang out that were accompanied by the collapse of drones across the line.
Decimus fired into the air ahead, accompanied by his squad they layed volley upon volley of rifle fire into the night air. Complemented by Clelia’s continuous fire, he counted at least four bats falling from the sky. A brief feeling of elation overcame the sergeant, but as the bats returned fire Decimus quickly dove behind the nearby howitzer, narrowly avoiding a hail of magic rifle fire on the way. Not many were as lucky, as Decimus quickly looked over to see that the fourth and fifth gun teams had already lost half their units.
Minutes passed as the sides desperately exchanged shots, but it was clear that the battery did not pose any more than an inconvenience to the bats. They had ceased flight and were steadily moving forward on the ground, but this was little consolation. The bats could be practically invisible simply by laying in the grass of the unilluminated areas. Perhaps if the battery had been supplied with enough searchlights to illuminate more than their immediate area, they would’ve had a chance, but as it was they continued to fire into the darkness.
As Decimus chambered another round into his rifle and leaned over the side of the howitzer to face the blackness of the night, he was taken by surprise as one of the recruits trotted towards him.
“Eughcanmelegs” the changeling gargled out before grasping the sergeant’s collar with his hooves. He began to let out a dreadful retching sound.
Decimus could hardly remember this one’s name. Was it Karx? Reticulus? It didn’t matter. The sergeant pulled him behind his cover as he realized his uniform was saturated with crimson. Decimus lowered the recruit to the ground as the retching noise ceased.
Looking across the howitzer again, he saw another of the new recruits rise slightly, and turn to face the scene that had just played out. Before Decimus could shout at him to lower himself back into cover, a similar crimson liquid sprayed across the dirt as this recruit too dropped to the ground.
From behind a nearby crate, Decimus continued to hear Private Quintus mewling.
“Speak up dammit!” Decimus called out.
“R-retreat sir! We’re to retreat and leave the guns!” Quintus replied.
“They’re too late!” Bactrim screamed as another burst of Equestrian rounds slammed into their sandbag blockade he was desperately clinging to for cover.
Corporal Clelia shouted something unintelligible before suddenly abandoning the MG. Her wings flared to life as she burst past the howitzer into cover behind a stack of more crates. Spurious followed suit, but Bactrim remained pinned behind his cover as more bursts of gunfire followed.
In an instant Private Helix dove towards the MG nest. He tossed something up from the ground and kicked it with a foreleg.
“For our Queen!” the private screamed.
A blast rang out, and Decimus collapsed.
A cloud of dirt filled the air around Decimus as he regained consciousness, and an incessant ringing overtook all ability to hear. The sergeant crawled across the muddy ground. He saw glimpses of changelings running past him. Webbed wings were visible for a moment before the smoke and dirt overtook his vision. Finally, the sergeant leaned up against some sort of object, though he could not tell what.
The scene played out soundlessly, only accompanied by the shrill noise persisting in the sergeant’s ears. An orchid appeared in the smoke, which was quickly revealed to be the cutie mark belonging to four legs emerging out of the chaos. Fangs glistened in the night, though they were not changeling fangs. The creature drew near.
The thing began to raise a pistol and took aim at the sergeant. Decimus would have winced if he had the faculties to do so, but he merely stared blankly forward as the figure continued to materialize from the smoke. Decimus could only conjure a single thought in his mind.
I can’t stand this ringing sound.
Decimus continued to stare as the batpony before him grimaced and began to pull the trigger. There was a flash before the thestral spasmed and fell to the earth as a slew of submachinegun fire cut through its side. He felt hooves pull him from behind.
“Get up Sergeant!” the muffled voice of Spurious called out. The ringing began to fade as Decimus was brought up back on his hooves by the corporal. They were behind a container full of unloaded supplies intended for the trucks. The constant sound of gunshots was fading.
“Are you shot?” Clelia said, approaching through the clearing smoke, “It looked like Bactrim got him in time,” the corporal began to pull out a first aid kit, “Decimus?”
The sergeant looked back at Bactrim, still crouched behind the sandbags. He gave him a thankful nod that was returned in full.
“I’m alright,” Decimus coughed, “What’s our situation?”
“Three casualties from the firefight, Private Helix and Quintus are the only green ones left on our team,” Clelia said, examining the sergeant’s thoracic region.
“That larva might have saved all of our lives back there,” Spurious said, “I think that grenade he kicked back took out a whole squad of 'em! They’re pulling back!”
Private Helix grinned in the distance before turning to take another shot at the enemy, “We’ve sent them running back to the line!”
“Pulling back? They looked to outnumber us three to one and had us completely overrun!” the sergeant exclaimed.
He looked to the few thestrals visible in the distance flying back over the hill. The battery was in such poor shape that not many were able to fire back as the bats made an easy escape. He thought for a moment on these implications.
His eyes widened as the realization dawned on him.
An unmistakable sound began to reverberate through the night air. It was as though a great storm had suddenly and rapidly begun advancing on their position.
“Typhoon!” a distant voice called out.
Typhoon. The final word of many changelings.
“Retreat now!” the sergeant screamed out, pushing Clelia off of him.
Decimus limped first, but began to enter a steady gallop. His wings felt as though they may snap if he tried to use them now. Spurious, Clelia, Helix, and Quintus followed behind, and scattered survivors of the others fire teams made a run for it as well. They made haste across the crater-covered fields behind the battery.
The sergeant turned to see Bactrim lagging behind a great deal. The changeling was limping on his back legs, and a wing was bent out of its normal shape.
He’ll make it. Bactrim’s always made it. Remember Applewood?
The changelings moved as fast as they could, but the Equestrian air force proved to be faster. The sound of the typhoon grew louder. Decimus was felt as though his heart would burst from his thorax as he continued to gallop.
That damned plane. That damned sound.
Decimus continued to spare glances behind him, growing more disheartened with each as he saw Bactrim losing ground.
Why doesn’t he catch up?
He couldn’t stop, he had the rest of the team to look out for didn’t he?
If I could just spare a moment to-
The whistling sound of the bomb falling grew louder than that of the plane’s motor as the earth beneath Decimus moved. He collapsed as the sounds of screams were cut off. The ringing returned along with the copious amounts of smoke.
How long did Decimus lay before he scrambled to his hooves? A minute? Five? A haze clouded his vision, but as he began to see clearly, he turned to see Spurious pulling Clelia away from a figure on the ground.
Bactrim’s back forelegs were covered in gauze soaked with crimson. His muzzle was moving, but Decimus heard no words. His horn was chipped in half, and he had double the holes in his legs than were normal for a changeling.
Clelia leaned down to attempt to rewrap a leg, but Spurious shouted something at her and they both began to gallop away towards the fallback line behind Decimus. Private Quintus was nowhere to be seen.
Decimus began to move towards Bactrim before a voice called out from the side as the auditory world came back into focus.
“Sergeant Decimus sir!” Private Helix called out.
The sergeant had no idea how long the private had been standing there, but he was flanked by four other survivors. Snapping back to his obligations, and giving Bactrim a final glance, he turned to face the drones.
“Retreat.”