//------------------------------// // 2, Summer // Story: Pony Tankers // by Michael Spruce //------------------------------// Headstormpony Feldspar glassed the far bank of the sluggish brown river with her binoculars, methodically checking for signs of movement. So far, there had been no attempt from the scattered infantry across the river to retake their front line. They seemed content to bustle around the far bank, digging foxholes and laying barbed wire, and didn’t seem to have noticed anything amiss in the trees. Her camouflage was, as usual, impeccable. The attack at dawn had been more successful than she had hoped, breaking the Equestrian’s defenses and throwing them to the winds, as far as this section of the front was concerned. The survivors had run for the river, and the ones that hadn’t were pinned up in a valley a few hundred meters to her rear along with the token armored force they had seen fit to protect this sector with. As she had expected, rather than fight a force that outnumbered them two to one, they retreated. Equestrians were either foolishly brave or cowards, there was no in between. They also placed high value on their machines and equipment, in her experience. Today, she was going to use that to her advantage. If they valued their tanks so much, they would doubtless send more to get them back, and aerial reconnaissance had indicated that they only had ten more medium tanks in the area. She had ordered that their infantry keep back, and though the local commanders wanted to exploit the opening to dig in new positions on the river’s edge, she had impressed on them how important it was that they stay out of it, except in a few key areas out of view of the river. She would be the mare that decimated the enemy’s armored capability in this part of the front, and open the door for a future breakthrough and total encirclement of Equestrian forces. One of the only gambles was if they would send good tanks after bad, but she felt that as long as they knew their force in the valley was still alive, they would come. The tanks she had posted to keep watch over the sides of the valley had orders to let off with the machine guns every few minutes, just to let the enemy know they were still there and waiting, to keep their heads down. That was the other gamble; whether or not the Equestrian tanks in the valley would grow a pair and attempt a breakout, even though they would lose most of their forces in the process. She lowered her field glasses and scoffed. Equestrians were fools; soft, pampered fools. They honestly deserved to lose this war. Crystal Empire ponies like herself, by contrast, were tempered by the struggle of living in the frigid north. Well, she thought belatedly, everyone except those doddering fools from the capital, where they lived snug and warm. For everyone else, a hard life made for hard ponies, who had the mettle to take what they deserved. Soon, these rich lands would be settled by ponies who would truly appreciate the bounty they offered. These Equestrians had so much that they could just leave perfectly arable land untended for hundreds of years, like the orchard behind her now. It was enough to make Feldspar almost get angry. King Sombra had offered acres of land to every soldier when the war was over; when she first heard of it, she thought it was mere propaganda, but when she had come to the Equestrian front and seen the land for herself, she could easily believe it to be true. As for her, she wanted no part of Equestrian land. When the war was over, she would return to manage the family farm in the northern boundary mountains, and maybe improve it a little. She picked up her microphone and said quietly, “B Detachment, report in. All quiet?” The response came, “Not a peep. Want us to stop reminding them? We’ll run out of machinegun ammo in a few hours if we keep this up.” She thought for a moment, then said, “No, keep doing it, but stop when you hear cannon fire from my position. Keep radio traffic to a minimum – I don’t want them to pick up on my location. Don’t contact me again until I tell you to, understand?” The leader of B Detachment acknowledged the order and signed off. She waited, and, after a minute, she received an aerial report from headquarters that a column of Equestrian tanks were missing from their forward base. She allowed herself a small smile. They would come right to her, and she would take out two groups of Equestrian tanks at one stroke. / - / - / - / - / Summer leaned and looked over the front of the turret roof in dismay at the river rushing by only a few meters away. Now that they were actually here, it seemed doubtful that what she intended would be possible. The engine idled quietly and made worrying hissing and popping noises. She had ordered Supercharger to run flat out the entire way here, with only a brief stop to talk to a sergeant of artillery. Across the river, a long-abandoned orchard sat quietly. Most of the farmland in this part of the country had been sitting unused for many years, ever since the ponies moved away. Summer never cared to learn why, she only knew that the historic maps showed a sharp uptick in properties marked as “abandoned” around 130 years ago. She looked away and picked up her microphone. “Corporal Supercharger, how deep in the water can this thing go?” She had seen this point on the map, and it had caught her eye. She had all the information she needed for this plan; there were just a few specifics she wasn’t really sure about. “What? Oh, um, about a meter. Why did you bring us here?” Summer didn’t answer her, considering this information and looking between the river and the engine deck. After weighing the urgency of the situation against the time needed to go up or down the river to a point that might be more certain, and mindful of the enemy troops who could be nearby, she heaved herself out of the turret and clambered down to check for herself. She sized up the engine deck’s height above the ground and mentally compared it to the surveyed depth. Nodding with satisfaction, she climbed back aboard and let herself down to stand on her seat. Picking up her microphone, she gave the order. “Driver, back up a bit and get us a bit of a head start.” The tank backed up slowly, and she yelled, “Faster! We don’t have all day!” The engine revved, and the tank shot back until she gave the order to stop a fair distance back from the steep riverbank. “Alright, driver, full speed ahead!” “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, er, ma’am?” Supercharger said, sounding worried for once. “If we swamp the engine here, we’ll lose the tank.” “Your concern for the machine is noted, corporal,” Summer said coldly, “But you will need to trust me on this. Full throttle.” She thumped the turret roof to punctuate the point. The tank jumped forward. Summer was prepared for the motion by now and held on tight. Her façade was a sham; she was desperately praying that she hadn’t just made a massive mistake and doomed them all to a prison camp in the far south. Suppose she had misjudged? Taking responsibility for running off without orders, taking a valuable tank with her, would only work if her plan worked; if they lost the tank and the others of the column died anyway, there was no hope for any of her crew either. The tank, at least, seemed enthusiastic about this plan, and it roared as they flew off the edge of the riverbank and pitched down into the river. The machine hit the bottom with a jolt and a huge splash that drove her midsection against the hatch and pulled her headphones forward off her ears, where they were stopped from slipping off only by her horn. As it motored forward, it quickly rolled level in the river and then stopped briefly. The gun just barely cleared the bottom in the plunge, and it emerged from the river dripping wet. As Summer had thought, the depth here was not enough to come up to the tank’s air intakes, but it was a close thing; if it were a faster-moving river, the water might break over the side and flood into the engine. Her elation at guessing correctly was interrupted when something crackled over her headphones that she didn’t catch and the tank suddenly lurched forward without orders. Summer struggled to put the headphones on so she could snap at the pegasus about following orders. The engine revved and the tank began to power through the water, leaving a wake in the sluggish brown river. Headphones on again, she yelled at Supercharger to slow down and take the crossing carefully, but there was no response. Frustrated, she ducked inside the turret to tell her off personally. Right away, she saw muddy brown water rushing in the viewports on the front of the hull. Water already covered the floor under the seats in the front of the compartment, and she realized she had forgotten all about the hull vision slits when she envisioned this crossing in her mind. She felt panic begin to set in. Her window of opportunity to salvage the situation was rapidly closing – now what? Her mind felt blank, paralyzed, but the tank motored on. The instant the hull began to pitch up again, the tank lurched to a stop, then swung around in reverse, using the current to assist the rotation half of the way. Summer managed to gather herself enough to order the gun to be traversed all the way to the rear, so it wouldn’t interfere with an exit, and as it was still moving around clockwise the tank reversed up the steep riverbank at an oblique angle. It powered backwards until it finally slammed to a stop when the back of the hull rammed into the sturdy trunk of an old fruit tree. Summer sat, stunned, feeling more than a bit like things had gotten way out of her control. The tank growled, and she almost was surprised it was still running. She dropped inside the turret and said briskly, “Is everyone all right?” In response to the question, Minty only stared stonily back at her, and she again got the feeling that it was a silly thing to ask. The fighting compartment was filled with brown water, the water up to the level of a pony’s fetlock above the floor of the turret. It glistened with an oily sheen as the inside of the tank left its impression on it. Turnip glowered and spat black slime into the water; if she had something to say, she was keeping it to herself. Both the ponies sitting in the nose of the tank were chest-deep in the brackish stuff; miscellaneous items bobbed between them, and among them Summer spotted Cashmere’s pencils and signals pad floating gently back towards her. Cashmere opened her hatch and began bailing water out of the forward compartment with a mess cup. Supercharger slowly and deliberately unstrapped herself, opened her hatch, and climbed up onto the roof. Not once did she look behind her. When Supercharger had gained the roof, Summer heard her stomp on the turret roof several times. “Commander. Up here. Now,” she growled. So that was what that sounded like from the inside… Summer shook her head to clear it and pulled herself half out of her hatch to find the pegasus only a horn-length away from her face. “Yes, w-what is it, Corporal?” she said, trying to be businesslike. Always show them you were unconcerned by whatever happened, good or bad. Unfortunately, that advice wasn’t working very well for her at the moment. “What in the hay were you THINKING?!” The sodden grey pegasus exploded in her face. “Did you even think that through at all? I trusted you to know what you were doing, and we almost lost the tank because of it!” Summer wiped spittle off her face with a pocket kerchief. “W-well,” she stammered, “I knew the river was rocky-bottomed, and the map said it’s shallower here than I know the tank is tall…” She knew the driver was right; she was in the wrong. “Did you know there was a strong current on the bottom undermining our tracks?” Supercharger said. “I could feel them slipping. Did you really forget about the viewports? I’m soaking wet, and we’d better PRAY to Celestia that the insulation on our electrics is good, or we could lose the radio or the turret motor or the whole tank!” Summer looked at her again, really seeing her this time. Supercharger looked like she had just been dunked into a pool, and her grey uniform jacket hung from her frame, dripping on the roof. “And did you think as far ahead as getting out of the river? Did you consider that if I tried to take us out headfirst the intakes would take on water and we’d stall? You haven’t told us anything, but I'm not dumb, you know – I know this is a contested zone. There’s no way the maintenance section could get a tractor up here to pull us out. Did you think of that?” Summer cringed back at the force of the pony’s accusations. It was true, she had made a mess of things, but… “But we’re here now,” Summer snapped back, shoving her head forward. Supercharger moved back to avoid being poked by the horn, and Summer regained the ground she had given. “And the tank isn’t lost, thanks to the great skill of my subordinate. So what if you’ve got your hooves a little wet? Everything still works, as far as I can tell.” She rubbed the top of the turret as if to soothe an upset beast. “Now get back to your post, right this instant. The longer we dawdle here, the greater chance our entire platoon will be lost. I appreciate your concerns, but now is not the time to voice them.” Supercharger opened her mouth to argue, but Summer held her stare, and she shut it again and tossed her head. “You’re the boss,” she muttered, and she turned and jumped back into her hatch with a splash, slamming it and locking it. Summer watched her go. Did all pegasi have such well-shaped flanks? She shook her head furiously; she was on a mission, and she had to check the map. She dropped inside and said to Minty, “Hand me my maps, if you please, Corporal.” The pony bent behind her chair and handed her the map tube, and Summer’s veins ran with ice. The light wood had been floating in the layer of water that covered the floor. She grabbed it and tore open the lid, and found the maps wet through with water. Panicked, she wrapped them in her glow to pull them out, but her cooler head stopped her just in time. They could still be dried out, but if she moved them like this, they could tear or their ink could bleed, if it hadn’t already. She’d have to rely on her memory from here on out. Her precious maps, painstakingly copied from the archives by hoof… and she only had herself to blame. She stuck herself out again and looked around, crestfallen. “Right,” she said, talking aloud to herself, “This is an old orchard. The trees will be good cover, but restrictive. Just that way and over the rise are the hills bordering the valley where Second Platoon is pinned down.” She picked up her microphone and prayed that the intercom still worked. “Cashmere?” “Yes, sir?” “Open all vision ports and get your head out here too. I want an extra pair of eyes looking out for enemy tanks. If my guess is right, they have a couple on this side of the valley.” Cashmere obediently opened her hatch and stuck her pink head out. “Enlisted Sprout and Corporal Twist, stay ready. Corporal Supercharger, Take us into those trees.” / - / - / - / - / Second Lieutenant Sweet Tooth led his column of four tanks through a command post a short distance from the front. He signaled a halt with an upraised hoof and stamped thrice on the inside of the turret, and his driver understood their private signal and stopped the tank. Behind them, the rest of the column came to their own rattling stops. He heaved himself out of the turret and jumped down in two quick bounds to meet the approaching field commander. “Second Lieutenant Sweet Tooth, Third Platoon, D Company, 5th Equestrian Armored Battalion,” he reported, “What’s the situation on the front?” The pony did a double take and a look of confusion flashed over his face. “That’s funny…” he said, “You’re the second officer from the Third Platoon of D Company to come through here today.” Sweet Tooth, alarmed, asked, “Who did?” “A tank rolled up here a little while ago with a first lieutenant aboard. She left some instructions for us. Pale green mare, pink mane, you know her?” the pony answered. Sweet Tooth felt a flash of anger. That arrogant unicorn whelp! Well, she had certainly been busy since tearing out of the depot like that… He stopped and thought about this. He had been turning over her outburst during the briefing over in his mind on the way, and he had to admit, her arguments were not entirely without merit. There was no sense in going in incautiously, which was true in any case, but what else was there they could do? He certainly wasn’t about to let his best friend of two years over in Second Platoon get killed when he could do something about it. Out of curiosity, he asked, “What did she say her rank was again?” “First lieutenant, sir. She had the papers and golden tabs and everything. I had her wait a moment so a few of my lads could look it over, and they all said it was the real deal.” Sweet Tooth dismissed them as very good forgeries, but the fact remained that she was up to something. “What instructions did she leave?” “Only for a bombardment at noon on her designated co-ordinates,” the pony said. Clearly growing worried, he asked, “Is she an imposter, sir? I’ll just disregard these orders if she doesn’t have official authorization.” Sweet tooth thought for a moment. He didn’t like unicorns, and especially not unicorns that thought they knew everything, and especially not nobility. The thing that frustrated him the most about know-it-all unicorns, though, was that they frequently DID know what they were talking about. Summer Meadows had made a bad impression, but she obviously felt she needed that head start on the column to do something she couldn’t have done otherwise. There wasn’t any harm in letting her plan go on for now. After all, he could always radio in and belay her orders if something better turned up. Making up his mind, he said “No, she has my full backing. Carry out those orders to the letter, you understand?” The pony nodded. “Good. Now fill me in on the situation at the front.” Several minutes later, he was back in his tank and signaling the column to move out. They had to hurry – they couldn’t count on the Second Platoon being unmolested, or on them not losing their patience and trying a desperate breakout, for very long. Crystal Empire assaults tended to be ruthless and efficient, and they didn’t like waiting. That unicorn was going to be in so much trouble when this was over, mark his words, but until it was, there were more important things to take care of. Resembling a mother duck and its three smaller offspring, the column rumbled off towards the front. / - / - / - / - / Summer’s tank had nearly made it through the orchard and was powering down the opposite side of the slope at speed when Cashmere yelled, “Stop!” in her oddly soft voice. Supercharger hit the brakes hard, and the tracks locked up, skidding the tank unevenly enough for the front right mudguard to smash into into a tree. Summer felt a little annoyed no one had cleared this maneuver with her first. “There, see it?” said Cashmere, pointing at a shape up ahead in the trees, a few lanes over from them and far ahead, barely visible through the trunks. Summer squinted at it and detected unnaturally regular geometry among the undergrowth, along with a hint of dark grey color. “Driver, take us ahead, but slowly, and get us back into the center of the lane. Radiopony, get back inside and stop blocking her viewport.” As the tank backed up, turned and began to move again, the crumpled mudguard rattled over the track noisily, and Summer winced, hoping it wouldn’t give them away too early. She prayed the enemy hadn’t heard their engine yet. Fumbling at her side, she came up with her field glasses. She draped the strap around her neck and held them up, keeping them fixed on the spot she had seen the patch of dark grey. As the tank moved along the aisle, she saw more and more of the enemy tank at a time as they moved past each tree. It was a low machine, with a long, low engine deck, and the turret perched like a great box on top of its forequarters. A rose-colored stallion in a khaki uniform and wearing a red neckerchief was sitting with his hindquarters on the back of the turret, his legs hanging inside, looking ahead through a pair of field glasses. He was hatless, but wore a pair of headphones over his ears. His coat sparkled in the sun, and Summer hesitated to give her orders; she never expected crystal ponies to be so beautiful in person. “Gunner, traverse turret to, er, one-thirty o’clock.” She mentally figured it in the degrees system she was fairly sure she was supposed to use. “Forty-five degrees. What do we have loaded?” “Aiy-pee-see-bay-see,” Turnip answered, drawling out each syllable. Summer wasn’t sure what that was, but it sounded lethal, so she nodded her approval and went back to watching. The motor whirred to life under her as the gun moved around to her specified position. As they approached with probably a hundred meters between them and the target and closing, she watched the stallion flick his ears, waited while a tree briefly obscured her view, then when she saw him again he was looking directly at them, openmouthed. When she saw the tank again through the gaps in the trees he was gone from view and a spurt of exhaust gas was coming from the back of the tank and the turret was beginning to move. “Driver, increase speed, and stop on my signal,” she ordered, as they approached the point where the trees, planted in a grid, would make a perfect diagonal corridor to the enemy tank. It drew closer, closer, and she prayed they would make it before the enemy had got their turret around. She yelled, “Stop! Gunner, fire when you have a good solution!” The tank screeched to a halt, gentler this time. The target was no more than 50 meters away. Summer looked at the enemy; in only a few seconds, their turret would be all the way around. She waited, her whole body rigid with the tension, as the gun made a slight adjustment to the right and dipped down. The long gun fired. The force rocked the entire tank on its suspension. The blast from the muzzle brake blew leaves off the lower branches of the tree to their immediate right, and Summer felt the deafening concussion through her entire body, her bones vibrating with the force. When she had recovered from the shock enough to see straight again, she looked again at the target. The rotation of its turret had stopped, pointing at the tree right in front of them, and thin smoke leaked from every hatch. Summer felt sick to her stomach; they barely stood a chance. She imagined how that rose-colored stallion might look, body broken and twisted inside his dark grey metal box. But she kept her food down and steeled herself. There would be time to worry about it later. Right now, ponies were depending on her, whether they knew it or not. “That won’t be the last of them,” she said, grimly, “There’s going to be one more to hold this side of the valley. Keep your eyes open, but stay inside. Load another one of those shells you hit that fellow with.” “Already done, ma’am,” Minty said. “By the way, ma’am. If I might suggest you close your hatch when we fire?” Summer heard her, but she wasn’t going to admit it. She needed to be able to see what was going on, and a little head pain wouldn’t stop her. “Driver, keep us to a low speed and proceed straight ahead. Gunner, traverse gun back to 12 o’clock.” Unless the enemy was exceptionally deaf, they couldn’t fail to have missed the shot, or the radio transmission the tank might have had time to make. She had to stay alert. The tank started into motion again. She glassed the orchard around her slowly with her field glasses, starting from the left. If the first tank was any indication, the other would also be somewhere in the orchard, but would they be towards the river, or away from it? It didn’t take long for her traveling eye to catch on another irregular patch of dark grey color, on the left where the orchard curved away to the northwest following the curve of the land. She looked closer, using her telekinesis to hold the field glasses up and steadying her hooves on the edge of the cupola, and saw a boxy turret with the gun pointed directly at her. She snatched up the microphone and shouted, “Hard reverse!” The tank lurched backwards and she dropped her field glasses at the suddenness of the motion. The muzzle of the enemy gun flashed. There was a terrible metallic shriek and the tank shuddered and a spray of sparks flashed across her vision as the shell hit the frontal armor at a shallow angle and caromed off into the trees on their other side. A spray of splinters erupted where the shell hit a tree trunk a few dozen meters downrange. “Gunner, traverse turret left to nine o’clock and fire when you see their paint!” Summer ordered, but the turret was already moving to respond to the threat. “Driver, when I give the order, turn left about, er,” and she had to quickly make the conversion in her head, “forty degrees and drive straight until we pass those trunks. Understood?” Minty gave an affirmative but Supercharger was silent on the intercom; Summer heard her yell from inside the compartment, and figured her headset must not be working after its watery dip. After that there was nothing to do but pick up her field glasses from their retaining strap around her neck and watch the target for a few long anxious seconds while the turret whirred around, the microphone switch held close. Their big gun fired when the turret was almost completely on target, rattling Summer’s teeth. The shell hit a tree at turret-height and deflected off it, spraying the enemy tank with splinters, and she saw an explosion go off on the front of the turret. “Driver, now!” she yelled, and the tank rotated under her and jumped forward. Almost too late, she remembered to order, “Traverse turret to the right!” to clear it for going through the trees. She heard the breech open and the casing clatter to the floor on top of the whir of the turret motor and the roar of the engine. The enemy fired again, and the shot ripped through the air over the engine deck with a sonic hum and crashed into a tree somewhere behind them. Summer looked at them again, and saw that the armor was whole and they were still moving, turning slightly and trundling forward into the next lane closer to the treeline to match her own tank’s movement. Probably the shell had detonated early, but still saved them by stunning the crew for the critical moment. “Driver, stop and reverse until you see the tree trunk directly to your left. Gunner, target at ten o’clock. Make that nine-fifty. Loader –” she cut herself off when she heard the gun breech slam closed. “…Carry on.” She felt she ought to be calling out the range, so she gave it her best guess. “I make that about one-hundred-fifty meters. Aim for the turret face.” The turret face she was currently looking right at. Atop the enemy turret, projecting from her own hatch, was an aquamarine crystal mare wearing a blue beret, looking back at Summer through her own pair of field glasses. Her mouth moved soundlessly as she barked her own orders to her crew. The big gun boomed again. Summer saw up-close through her field glasses the hole that appeared in the armor a split second later and the percussive flash that rushed out of the open hatch on the turret roof, and the hollow boom the hit made. She winced and rubbed her temple; the muzzle blasts were beginning to get to her. When Summer looked again, the enemy commander was pulling herself out to fall over the opposite side of the turret, and she caught a glimpse of red and mangled hind legs. She felt sick again, but there was no time for sentiment. “Driver, back us up until I tell you to stop. Gunner, target their engine and hit it only when you are sure of the shot.” Privately, she thought that the enemy were pretty well out of the fight, but still, they ought to be immobilized in case any had survived. The tank rumbled back, she ordered Supercharger to stop, and she ducked inside and closed the hatch before the big gun fired. She opened the hatch again and made sure the enemy tank hadn’t moved. Fire licked at it where the fuel had caught, and it might have caught fire to the entire orchard if it hadn’t just rained. She stared at it for a moment before ordering her tank to move out of the orchard and onto the hillside. It was time that she contacted Second Platoon. “Radiopony, get me Lieutenant Bubble Pop on the short-wave.” Cashmere acknowledged the order and Summer waited while she made the necessary hails. When she finally had them, she put it through to the commander. Summer flipped the switch on her microphone and said, as authoritatively as she could muster, “Second Platoon of D Company, this is First Lieutenant Meadows of Third Platoon. Do you read me?” A reply crackled over the radio. “This is Second Lieutenant Bubble Pop of Second Platoon. We read you. Did something happen to Second Lieutenant Sweet Tooth?” Summer thought the pony on the other end sounded more concerned than she ought to be. “Er, yes. I mean, no. He’s fine for now, but he won’t be for very long if we don’t act fast.” “What? Who the hay are you?” the lieutenant said suspiciously. Summer supposed the suspicion was warranted. “I’m the new commander – I’ve taken over command of the platoon on Captain Havoc’s orders. I’ve sent Sweet Tooth to lead the rest of the column towards the crossing just east of here. If you heard the cannon fire, that was us – my tank. Please, I have a plan for dealing with your encirclement, just listen.” There was a lengthy pause, and Summer was starting to wonder if the radio had failed. “…Lieutenant Pop, are you there?” she asked, anxiously. “Yes, Lieutenant Meadows, we’re here. I’d like you to explain yourself. Give me one good reason why you’re not part of a Crystal Empire ploy, because I know for a fact that immediately downriver has no fordable points by OUR machines.” “But theirs can’t either –” Summer started to say, then stopped herself when she realized that their tanks would already be on this side of the river. “Fine. We’re coming to the top of this hill at, um,” she struggled to remember the grid co-ordinates she had briefly glimpsed on the captain’s map, “Five-jay, Canter-six, 680e, 240n. It should be to your south-southeast, if my position is right. Please don’t shoot.” She ordered the tank forward up the hill, and it obliged, protesting slightly. When it rounded the top, Summer braced for the sound of cannons from below, but it never came. She breathed a sigh of relief. She scanned the shallow valley floor spread out under until she spotted the distinctive light grey of the equestrian tanks underneath stripes of olive green paint, making a two-tone camouflage. Around it gathered a ragged group of infantry, sitting in clumps under cover. When she saw a grape-colored mare looking back at her through her own pair of field glasses, Summer waved, and the mare waved back. “There, I’m not an enemy, see?” Summer said, hopefully. “I don’t recognize the tank,” the lieutenant said, and Summer’s heart sank. “…But that’s definitely an Equestrian machine, and you got your uniform right. Fine, Empire spy – I’ll hear you out and decide if it’s worth taking under consideration.” Summer wanted to jump for joy. “Thanks! So, there is a trap set at that ford I mentioned where I, er, sent Sweet Tooth and the rest towards, and the enemy tanks will be waiting there to hit them from ambush as they cross. Now, you’re trapped in this valley by tanks on either side and guns at the entrance, is that right? And you think it’s odd that they haven’t come down on you and crushed you, correct?” “…Yes,” came the answer, “Are you sure you’re not a Crystal Empire agent?” “Well,” Summer said, beyond pleased that her guesses had been correct all along, “I managed to cross the river where it’s not too deep, and I just got rid of both of the guards on this side of the valley. Now, I propose –” “Hold on,” Bubble Pop said, “Did you just say ‘both’? There’s three.” Summer’s blood ran cold. There had only been two; where was…? Suddenly there was an earsplitting shriek, and a spray of sparks along her right side, and the entire tank rocked and vibrated with the impact. She stood stunned for a brief moment. The tank, however, was not idle. The engine revved and the tank spun completely around, the locked right track carving a wide gash in the grass atop the hill. The shock passed quickly, and Summer came back to herself and took command. The third tank sat a long distance away, far down the treeline and very close to the river, which explained why she hadn’t seen it before. Its hull sat slightly angled and smoke curled from the barrel. Its commander’s hatch was open and a tiny fuchsia figure was gesturing in her direction wildly. Summer quickly dropped inside her own tank, afraid of what she might see after that terrific hit, and found everyone still alive and relatively healthy. The tank had not even been breached; she concluded it must have been a poorly-aimed ricochet. She stood on her seat again and fixed her field glasses on the target. Switching to intercom, she ordered, “Driver, two points to the left and full speed down this slope. Gunner, rotate gun to ten o’clock.” She had a plan, but first they had to survive the next shot – she wasn’t going to sit still while they corrected their aim. The tank surged forward and rushed eagerly down the slope of the hill, and Minty dutifully rotated the turret to the appointed position. Once, it stopped rotating for a terrifying second, then started moving again with some gentle urging from the green mare. The sound of her hoof kicking the turret floor reverberated inside. “Driver, turn right! Now stop!” The tank jerked sideways a few dozen degrees, skidded onto a new course, then the tracks locked up and it came to a halt. The enemy fired with a flash and a boom, and the shot hit the ground a few meters to the side and upslope of their tank and threw up a small shower of soil. The tank’s big gun was now pointed nearly directly at the enemy. “Gunner, adjust left a touch, distance 600!” Summer yelled, giving her best guess for the range, and the turret shifted under her slightly. The gun elevated slowly, then fired, rocking the entire tank on its suspension. Pain stabbed into her skull. A bright spark and a hole appeared on the frontal hull of the enemy, and suddenly her eyes were dazzled as the tank erupted in a blinding flash, fire jetting out of every opening, but mainly the hatches on top of the turret. Quick, efficient, and painless; everything she hoped. She looked away and pushed out of her mind the image of the fuchsia pony’s sparkling coat engulfed in that conflagration. There was time for that later. She felt incredible, unstoppable. Her third kill, and more importantly, her crew still lived to enjoy it. She wanted to shout, to stamp her hooves, but she reminded herself sternly that as an officer such behavior could not be allowed. Stiff upper lip, that was the way. In the ensuing stillness, the breech slid open and another casing clattered to join the rest on the floor. Water ran down the front of the tank and noisily splashed on the ground. Summer ducked inside and surveyed the state of her crew, now that she was fairly sure they weren’t in danger of dying anymore. She had to stifle a gasp. Supercharger was very nearly submarine, only her head barely sticking above the water in the tank, which had all mostly moved to the forward part of the compartment and was running out of the vision slits. Cashmere was likewise submerged and trying to hold her radio out of the water with one hoof and cranking open the vision port with the other. Minty was sitting in her chair, seemingly unconcerned, and Turnip shot Summer an odd glance before slamming another shell into the gun and closing the breech. Summer cleared her throat awkwardly. “Alright, ladies, you have five minutes until we move on. I want as much of this water out of here as possible, understood? And throw these casings out too, they’re getting underhoof. Radiopony, get me on the radio with Bubble Pop again.” As the crew set to their work, she spoke with the lieutenant. Speaking as authoritatively as she could, and leaving out how much guesswork had really been involved, she explained her plan for the Second Platoon. They were to break out at the northwest entrance to the valley, while she was dealing with the AT guns there, and fall upon the forces guarding the northern edge of the valley. Once those were dealt with, they were to drive onward to the forces lying in wait at the ford. She emphasized that since they would be attacking the enemy in their flank, where and when they didn’t expect Equestrians to be, this was a very low-risk plan, keeping in mind how they had retreated to begin with out of reluctance to risk the machines in a pitched fight. She also wanted to ask them to check on the progress of the rest of Third Platoon for her, but if they did, she was afraid they would find out that she wasn’t what she said she was, and wouldn’t follow her plan. Now, at least, Bubble Pop believed that Summer really was an Equestrian armored officer; seeing her take fire from an enemy machine and then deal with it summarily had probably clinched it. As long as Second Platoon thought she was the leader on some daring maneuver, they would probably follow her where she needed them to go to save the others. When the five minutes was up, judging by her watch, she told the crew to stop bailing water. The turret floor was now above the level of the water, but there was still a good two dozen centimeters in the forward part of the compartment. “Corporal Supercharger, drive us straight ahead and then follow the edge of the orchard. Full speed, as usual.” By way of answer, the tank jumped forward in a jolt that nearly sent Summer tumbling out the hatch. Recovering herself, she tried to remember what other terrain features there were that they could use to get around the side of the antitank guns, since the orchard clearly didn’t continue forever. It came to her, and she mentally plotted a course in her mind. This would probably work. They motored along the edge of the trees, the wind whipping Summer’s mane back, and she her elation faded into warm satisfaction. Three kills, not bad for a first-time tanker with no training – not bad at all. Even the tank seemed satisfied, for all that it had taken a few minor bangs. The rough growl of the engine echoed her own inner desire to shout her elation at the top of her lungs. The tank, in fact, seemed downright eager for that big gun to roar again. Summer took heart in its – no, his – solidity of purpose. With a beast like this on her side, anything seemed possible.