//------------------------------// // 1, Minty // Story: Pony Tankers // by Michael Spruce //------------------------------// Minty Twist wiped sweat from her brow and picked her paintbrush up in her teeth. She controlled her movements very carefully – this was fine detail work. A mistake now could ruin an hour of careful painting, but in the dry, late summer heat, it was hard going. She dipped the tip of the brush in the tin of paint and considered how to tackle the last letter. It had been three days since the new commander, Summer Meadows, had shown up fresh off the train and promptly led her crew on an unsanctioned mission that saw them knock out four enemy tanks, or, in Minty’s estimation, possibly five, and help an entire platoon of five friendly tanks break out of a bad situation. In the process, their engine had blown out, and since then the crew had been sitting at the depot, largely idle, while the driver-mechanic ostensibly rebuilt the engine. Ostensibly, of course, because the pegasus responsible had been nowhere to be found since early that morning, continuing a pattern for the last few days. Minty wished she could say that the inactivity was taking its toll on them, but it was mostly only getting to the tank commander. As for herself, she was glad for the rest and time away from the front. The cleared area among the small tent city that constituted the regional headquarters where the unit’s tanks were parked was relatively peaceful. Silent, even, if you could tune out the constant buzz of activity that surrounded any military camp, the sound of generator engines running and tools clanking, and the booming of not-so-distant big guns. Minty spared a glance at the pale green unicorn, Summer Meadows. She appeared outwardly calm, but the constant pacing in circles around the front of her tent betrayed her anxiety. Despite the heat of the day, she was dressed in her full uniform, and her officer’s cap was rammed firmly on her head. She was an alright sort, in Minty’s view, if a bit odd, but then, what unicorn wasn’t? Especially those aristocratic types. She turned back and began painting. Summer had put up a good face of a cool and composed pony thus far, but sometimes, the mask would slip. Minty had seen it all a dozen times before. A new officer would arrive, put their best hoof forward, and somewhere along the way, they would crack. Minty knew better than most how this war had a way of grinding ponies down until the only thing left was a nub. Thankfully, Minty didn’t think she herself had much to grind down to begin with. With the teeniest flourish, she finished the final letter and moved back. “Splendid. Excellent job,” came a voice close behind her. Minty started; she hadn’t noticed Summer approach. Minty dipped her head deferentially. “Thank you, ma’am.” Her handiwork, on the right side of the barrel jacket near the base, were the words “Sterling Ranger” in a flowing, cursive script, white picked out with shading of grey and black along the letter-edges. Near the muzzle brake, done earlier using the same paints, were four kill-rings, two white and two black. Minty wasn’t a calligraphypony by any stretch, but she was quite proud of what she had managed to do. “For such a good job, you can have the rest of the day off,” Summer said, like she was granting some great boon. Minty looked around slowly at the nothing going on around them. There was nothing else they could do, at least, not without the engine running, and Minty thought Summer knew that. It was hard to tell sometimes. The depot was very quiet today; the rest of the third platoon was out for the past several days along with the first platoon on an extended patrol, trying to boost their appearance of numbers on the front. “Thank you, ma’am,” she said again. “Very good,” Summer said curtly, and she returned to her restless pacing, alongside the tank this time. Minty leaned against the turret, pulled out one of her hoof-rolled cigarettes, and watched her. The unicorn’s haunch was bandaged, a wound taken during the attack three days ago. While her mane was as well-groomed as it could be under the circumstances, her coat had a certain ratty quality to it, and she had deep bags under her eyes. Of course, nopony slept well when new to the front, and especially not after their first action, so it wasn’t anything to worry about for the time being. She would get over it eventually, Minty decided. Minty imagined she looked worse off next to her commander. Her uniform wasn’t anywhere near as straight and neat; her forest-green coat had the dull sheen of the permanently unwashed; and her light grey mane, streaked with red, looked like she had just woken up. Then again, her mane always looked like that, no matter what she did. Around her grey eyes probably didn’t look any better than the commander’s, too, though hers were sunken and creased slightly at the edges with premature aging. After a few minutes of relative silence, the commander pacing and Minty smoking, she caught the approach of two ponies out of the corner of her eye. It was Supercharger, a pony Minty had known for a few months now, ever since ending up in the tank corps., and Cashmere, a pony she had not. Summer noticed them a second later. “And just where have you been?” Summer snapped, spinning from her pace and glowering at Supercharger when they approached. “I needed this engine repaired two days ago!” Cashmere shrunk back, though the commander’s words were not directed at her. She was carrying a basket in her teeth with a scrap of canvas covering it, and she set it down on the ground before answering. “Um, I w-was visiting Turnip at the hospital,” she stammered. “I also brought you some things from the quartermaster’s, like you asked.” “Yes, good, thank you,” Summer said, fighting to regain her composure after her outburst. She waved Cashmere away with a hoof. “Leave it by my tent.” She looked intensely at Supercharger and demanded, “And what about you?” Supercharger met her look inch by inch. “I was also visiting Turnip in the hospital. We walked back together.” Minty caught a confused glance from Cashmere as the pink pony turned to go. Probably half of what the pegasus had said was true, and Minty could make a pretty good guess about the rest. “I need that engine operational, Corporal Supercharger,” Summer said. “Why isn’t it done yet? You’ve already had three days.” Supercharger’s eyes shifted around nervously and she took a half-step to one side. “I need some parts we don’t have.” As she spoke, she seemed to grow in confidence, and she gave a small grin. “I’ve got a friend working on getting some, but… you know how supply is at the front.” She finished with a small shrug in a “can’t be helped” sort of way. Minty caught Supercharger’s eye and shook her head disapprovingly, and the pegasus flushed guiltily. Summer narrowed her eyes. “Do what you can,” she ordered, and stomped past Supercharger towards her tent. She shoved past Cashmere, who almost dropped the basket she was carrying, and vanished inside. Minty watched her go, then looked back at Supercharger and raised her eyebrow pointedly. “Alright, fine, I’ll see what I can do,” Supercharger said, rolling her eyes. She climbed onto the engine deck, raised one of the panels, and disappeared from view. Cashmere set the basket down next to the tent and was about to scurry off when Minty stopped her with a, “Wait.” The pink mare turned around, a question on her face, and Minty threw her a new pack of cigarettes. She caught them and stashed the small box under her collar with a swift movement, threw a salute, and dashed away. When she had gone, Minty finished her cigarette and spat the stub onto the hard ground. Minty rather liked Cashmere; she was a hardworking little soul, and because she caved easily to pressure, Minty felt a duty to watch out for her. Ponies like that got worn down faster than most. These last few days, Cashmere seemed to have latched on to Summer, a development which worried Minty. Aristocrats didn’t usually have the best endings. Speaking of the sergeant… With a sigh, she walked up to Summer’s tent. It was a small thing made of green fabric, barely big enough for a cot, but tall. Minty knocked on a tentpole outside to announce her presence and when the unicorn said, “Enter,” she did. Inside, Summer was standing up from her bedding, a bedroll laid atop several blankets atop a layer of some crushed-looking oak boughs. Even in the privacy, and heat, of her own tent, she wore her full uniform. Sweat beaded on her brow. Summer brushed something invisible off her shoulder and said, “Yes? What is it?” Minty looked around while she considered how to word it; the only other furnishing was Summer’s extremely old-fashioned infantrypony’s pack lying at the other end of the small tent, looking several centuries out of place. “It’s about Supercharger,” Minty began. “Did something happen – er, what about her?” Summer asked, and Minty couldn’t fail to miss the change that came over her face when the pegasus was mentioned. “It’s about the engine, actually,” Minty said. “It’s true what she says about parts. Take it from me – sometimes you just can’t get the things you need. We still haven’t got more shells for the cannon. Believe it or not, but as bad as things seem, logistics are actually better now than they were at the start of the war, when we were… when the Empire wasn’t kicking our flanks quite so hard.” Summer looked at her blankly for a second. “We don’t have more rounds for the cannon?” she asked, then she shook her head furiously. “Never mind. You were there at the beginning of the war? How was it?” Minty didn’t like how eager the sergeant had suddenly become. She paused before saying, “…I volunteered.” She considered what to say next, and decided she didn’t want to lie to the sergeant, but she didn’t want to tell her the truth, either. “I served Equestria the best I could.” Not strictly true, but it would do. Summer absorbed her words, and seemed disappointed she didn’t have more to say. When Minty stopped speaking, she asked, almost pleadingly, “How could you stand it?” Uh oh. This was a question Minty definitely didn’t want to think about, let alone answer. She knew why Summer was asking, and it wouldn’t do any good to answer her, honestly or otherwise. This was something she had to hear from an equal, not a subordinate. “Stand what, ma’am?” At Minty’s prompt, Summer seemed to realize what she was doing, and her face snapped to a too-serious expression. She straightened and cleared her throat importantly. “Forget I said anything, corporal.” “Already forgotten.” Summer continued, as if Minty hadn’t said anything. “Is there anything we can do to get those parts the corporal mentioned? ‘Back channels’ or somesuch?” “I’ll make inquiries of my own,” Minty promised. “In the meantime, why don’t you relax a little and mingle with your fellow officers? It might help take your mind off the wait.” “I can’t relax, we’re at war!” Summer snapped with sudden fire, drawing herself up, even though she was shorter than Minty. Her businesslike expression failed her. “Every day we dawdle here, ponies could be dying that we could have protected! Don’t you see?” Minty’s expression hardened. So that was how it was. Sooner or later, the sergeant had to realize that this line of thinking was just a waste of energy. It wasn’t Minty’s place to say this, though, so she held her tongue. Summer cleared her throat self-consciously as the silence began to set in. “I sincerely apologize for my outburst. That was unseemly of me. Leave me now.” She turned her back on Minty in the small space and added, “And tell Cashmere I won’t be taking my dinner this evening.” Minty saluted at the sergeant’s back and ducked out backwards. She wished she could help, but she had better things to devote her energy to than trying to reach yet another fresh officer. She’d tried it several times before, and fraternizing with officers never ended well. A quick surge of grief rose in her at the thought, and she swallowed it down again. As for Supercharger’s dawdling, she would give it a few days, and then when the delay was no longer reasonably excusable, Minty would start pressuring her to finish the job. In the meanwhile, it wouldn’t hurt anything to let the pegasus continue wandering off, as long as it kept them all out of the direct line of fire. She put Summer out of her mind as she walked away from the tent and turned her thoughts to Supercharger. She’d seen the pegasus work some amazing feats of mechanics, doing more with less than any other pony Minty had seen. Sure, she’d been missing sometimes in the past few months, but she always did her work swiftly, and was usually found tuning something or other on whatever tank she was working on. But not lately. She decided to go see if any of the other crews were having a game of cards; she could use a game of cards right about now. As she walked by the tank on her way to the other side of the lot, she found Cashmere rubbing the side of the hull with a damp cloth. “Did the commander tell you to polish the tank?” “No,” Cashmere instantly answered, throwing Minty a sideways glance. Minty raised her eyebrows and gave Cashmere a look, not buying it for a second. “…Yes,” conceded the pink mare eventually. “Well, stay clear of the barrel. I just painted there. Oh, and the commander is letting us have the supper you got for her – she’s decided to go to the officer’s mess tonight.” “That’s so generous of her!” Cashmere exclaimed. “Yes,” Minty agreed, “She is.”