001. Training Raids and Concrete Prisons
-Appleoosa-
Appleoosa sat in a hazy way in the far Western reaches of Equestria, deep where time itself seemed to stand still in the heat. It has been some time since Appleoosa's Orchard had ever moved from its location or grown, but the labors of the intense work paid off in small debts in the form of a few thousand apples from the trees. This paled in comparatively to the Apple Family Farm, which produced a great many more. But today was not a normal day, where the heat would settle in almost as well as the settlers had so many generations ago to build Appleoosa, and definitely not like any other day where stallions would go out to their fields to work or Braeburn to go to his orchard to buck apples. No, today was not an ordinary day.
Quite unlike, actually.
"Bareburn!" a voice yelled at the entrance of the orchard, echoing through the wooden branches and apples. "Braeburn, you have a letter from Princess Celestia!" Braeburn stopped halfway into bucking a tree, and he slowly set his back hooves back onto the dirt and took a clothe neckerchief to his face to wipe off the sweat. His eyes darted around the orchard and he titled his hat to shade his eyes better. He yelled back in reply,
"What y'all yellin' at me for? Ah'm comin, Ah'm comin, gimme a sec', will ya?" He slowly drug his hooves through the dry dust of the orchard until he hauled himself to the gates and pushed them open. A mail pony stood before him, eyes bright and shining. "Well howdy, stranger," he said in a cheery voice, "what brings y'all to Appleoosa?" he eyed the mail pony carefully, "and sure as hay don't look nothin' like Derpy," the mail pony laughed and he replied,
"We couldn't afford to send Derpy all by herself out this far, so we decided I be sent to deliver this news to you." he plucked a letter from his messenger back and handed it to Braeburn. He walked under a porch of one of the shops, tore the envelope open in a crude fashion and read aloud,
"Dear Braeburn;
Equestria is in a time of great need and assistance, as the industrialized nation to our coast is beginning to rise and plans on running a raid sometime today. Be prepared, bring anything you can that might disable this air division from breaching our land. If you do not, Princess Luna has taken a few... possessions... from them that may come in handy for us here. Alert the rest of Appleoosa, and watch for a draft letter—we need all we can get for help and assistance to protect this great nation.
Yours truly,
Princess Celestia."
There was a careful hoof-stamped signature of Celestia's on the page and Braeburn paled immediately as he heard a prompt poof and a heavy-weighted object make a heavy clank ahead of him as it fell to the wooden ground. It was lever-action rifle, complete with several boxes of cartridges to match. He glanced at the mail pony.
"Is this... is this a JOKE?" he muttered under his breath," Ah mean... ah'm just.. we can't do this! Ah can't do this! No one in Appleoosa can do this! Why'd she ask me?" the mail pony stared at the dirt and suddenly he seemed tired as he replied,
"Braeburn... I've had to travel many thousands of miles to get this to you. And..." he opened his mail bag, "you weren't the only one we had to request assistance from," the mail bag was bulky with letters from Celestia. Most of them were addressed to the big businesses of Fillydelphia and larger production cities. Braeburn's jaw dropped and he said in a hushed voice,
"So.. so all of Equestria's at war?" the mail pony shrugged.
"I'm afraid none of us are aware of what's to happen today, Braeburn," he nodded towards the rifle and said in a monotone, scared way, "and if I were you, I'd quickly learn how to use that,"
* * *
-The Industrious Nation-
The term "prison" or "jail" meant nothing to the industrialized nation, and the terms were constantly switched to "exile", "death", or "exile by death", or "death by exile", or whichever term seemed to fit the nation's imprisonment policy at the time. Every concrete wall seemed to arise against the horizon, running miles long, digging deep into the dirt of the Earth. The rebar that was used to help give the prison its shape was long-since rusted and destroyed, decaying just as the nation's policies had been for two hundred years. There was no glass, no food, no water, nothing. Imprisonment meant you were most likely going to die, and if you were lucky enough to live, you were either to be exiled or given one single change to prove you weren't as worthless as you had been to get jailed in such a fashion. Being jailed was the desired punishment for death because nopony ever survived the prison, but the lucky ones that got their chance almost always died in the end. So there were no real survivors unless you will to live transformed you. In your transformation in the industrious nation's prison, you evolved, lived through several lives. One day you would be the prisoner, another day you'd be the bully of the prison block, some other day you'd be too tired to do anything at all. But in the dawn of the day of the raid where the ponies were training some last number of times, the raid gave some of the ponies in the block a chance to free themselves from hell.
"You!" one of the guards shouted, walking down the halls, smacking the butt of his rifle against the cell bars as he walked, "the rusty-gold colored one! The Pegasus! Drag him out of his cell!" the other guards at the end of the hall did as they were told. They threw open the door of the cell, dragged out the Pegasus and threw him against the wall. He crumpled almost immediately and coughed up some blood as he glared at the main guard. He didn't speak, but his glowering hazel irises told the guard that what was to be said was all that mattered.
"Are we gonna free this sun'uv'a bitch?" the guard asked the others, and the main guard stooped down to glare back at the rust-colored Pegasus.
"Did you hear that? You rat cat bastard," a rifle came close to the Pegasus' skull and it the loading mechanism clicked, "you're being freed," the guard chuckled as he saw a glint of hope enter the Pegasus' eyes. The guard turned to the others and stated, chuckling,
"This one won't make it out of our nation. Free him." the guards did- again- as they were told, while one slipped in a comment,
"How 'bout we make him fight? We can offer him up as a sacrifice for the war," the main guard narrowed his eyes and retorted,
"For what?" he scoffed, "what's he good for?" the two guards blinked dumbly, and standing on the edge of the prison where the face of the tower was built at the edge of a cliff, they threw their prisoner out of the tallest window, watching his now dusk-colored body descend to the rocks below. Death had a wager to see who would live in the industrious nation, and to its disappointment, few ever made it.
Back inside, the guards chuckled to themselves and they talked amongst themselves,
"You think he'll survive?"
"Nah, he was a weak prisoner."
"But he did live through his imprisonment...." the other two guards nodded slowly, exchanging glances.
"And we just let him go, didn't we?" the first guard shook his head madly and replied thickly,
"We have better fliers than him, though! We don't need strong fliers, we need smart fliers! Besides, I'm sure he won't survive the flight anywhere. There's no one that will believe who he is." the two other guards nodded again.
"He has no family, no lineage. Whatever happens to him is no longer up to us."
The dusk-colored Pegasus fell, feeling the wind shoot past him. His wings were tightly folded against his body, but as he fell, back down towards the ocean, eyes staring up at the sky, he closed them for but a second and thought, You can do this. Just fly... another thought snuck in, But you haven't flown for months! How do you expect to fly now? Wait... all of that energy you spent training in respected silence... The Pegasus opened his eyes, narrowed them in a revengeful way, and suddenly opened his wings. He expected to hear hollow cracks and snaps and blood spray everywhere, but the tightness he felt in the muscles in his back was him catching the wind. He did several spirals as he tried to pull up from hitting the ocean, and he skimmed the surface of the water with his hooves before he managed to tightly pull upwards, still spiraling. Where he would go, he had no idea. But this was exile, some kind of freedom you were never supposed to escape from. You had to not fear death when you escaped.
* * *
-The airfields-
"Again! go!" the airfield instructor yelled, sending another flight squad screaming into the air, watching the smoke trails fly behind them. His eyes beamed and he felt his heart skip a beat as he watched the squad seamlessly work together, hearing the cracks of every shot being fired at the mock targets. These boys know what they're gettin' themselves into, I tell ya, he thought, a grin approaching his face. He glanced at the colt next to him, who signaled a flashing beacon to signal the flight squad could come down from their routine. As the airfield instructor watched the squad's vanships all come down and land, he announced loudly,
"You did well, all of ya! Boys, you're all done for t'day, go rest before the raid really begins!" a loud cheer erupted from the pilots and co-pilots, and they each clambered out of their ships and began walking towards the recreational halls for a break. The instructor nodded to himself and the beacon-worker suddenly spoke up,
"What do you think is gonna happen?" the instructor turned around and looked straight at the colt who had spoken.
"What do you mean?"
"With the raid and all... you know..."
"The raid's going to be fine. There won't be any beacons, they'll know when they're done,"
"But what if they fail?"
"They won't. That's why I'm teaching them how to fly,"
The beacon-worker sighed as he gave up worrying about how the raid would go, and the two departed in an awkward motion of turning in opposite directions and walking away.
* * *
-Ponyville-
The high afternoon sun of Celestia beamed over the town of Ponyville, marking the time where everyone- usually- was up and doing something productive. Braeburn had written a letter to Applejack when he had received the rifle from Celestia, and the main six had all gathered to read it.
"Did he mention he was actually going to fight?" Twilight piped up, laying down on the usual picnic blanket under the same tree they had always eaten under as the others sat down, each peeking at the letter now and again.
"Ah don't know, Twilight. Braeburn's just not that kinda' Colt, you know?" Twilight and the others nodded.
"I'm sure others will volunteer on their own, right? I mean it's to protect our home," Rainbow spoke, glancing at the letter, "who wouldn't want to protect our home?"
"Yes, but there are some ponies who dislike the grizzly nature of getting filthy," Rarity chimed in, and the others gave her a dry look and she shrugged, continuing, "I mean... I've had my times I've gotten filthy, but that was for a good cause!" she gave a hesitant smile and slowly backed out of the conversation, lending her ears only to listen.
"Ah'm just afraid he won't learn how in tarnation to shoot the thing," Applejack looked continually worried for her cousin, and Twilight answered,
"We're all afraid, Applejack, there's no reason to not be," at that, a brief pop was heard, and Twilight caught the rolled up scroll before it hit the ground. In plainly distressed wording the letter read,
"The hour has come. Be prepared to defend Equestria with everything you've got—Twilight, you and your friends must stick together and fight any way you can. I believe in you, Bearers of the Elements of Harmony. Go, my little ponies," it was signed by both Princesses, and Twilight paled at the thought. Rainbow and Applejack exchanged glances, and Twilight could almost hear the machines of war turning their cogs and compasses towards the borders of Equestria.
* * *