Chapter 3: Friend or Foe
Alexander honestly did not expect his ploy to work. He expected the horses to misinterpret their approach as an attack and attack themselves in a thunderous stampede of hooves and glorified pointed sticks, or be terrified out of their minds, break rank, turn tail, and retreat in an equally thunderous stampede of hooves and glorified pointed sticks, albeit to a greater comical effect that he would have been sure to have recorded.
Rather, a small group of them had broken away from the main body of armored horses and were now on an approach towards him and his escorts. Staring at the approaching equines, he gave voice to his astonishment, “I can’t believe it’s working.”
“Me either.” the driver concurred.
“(… Really? They’re really going to?)”
Upon hearing Hiss, Alexander promptly turned his head to face the snake, a level of smug satisfaction apparent on his features.
Hiss became unamused, “(Oh don’t look at me like that. You’re just as surprised as I am.)”
Alexander maintained his smirk, “True, but I’m still going to enjoy your astonishment.”
“(Oh, stop dawdling, you. You’ve got some horses to woo.)”
“Must you always have such an undertone? Well, whatever. Wish me luck.” he said with exasperation.
Hiss only smiled before slithering off Alexander’s shoulders and back down into his pack on the floor, disappearing inside.
Looking back out at the horses that were approaching them, he noted a few rather peculiar aspects about them. The first was their armor. It was colored a brilliant gold and was very reminiscent of Classical Grecian armor in design. There was also their weapons. They were armed with a number of spears, swords, javelins, shields, and crossbows, just as the sniper team had said, and more astoundingly were somehow able to grip them with their hooves. How they did so was beyond him.
‘Must be magic.’ he thought sarcastically.
Regaining his focus, Alexander radioed the escorts, “Bradley 3, disembark your squad and put them on me. 4, yours is on standby. Alpha Lead, keep watch. And remember to smile. We’re trying to make a good first impression. Over.”
Replacing the radio on the dashboard, he looked at the driver, “Keep the engine running and stay ready.”
The driver nodded, “Will do, sir.”
Alexander closed his laptop and placed it inside his pack, hoping Hiss would not drain its battery using it as a tanning bed. He opened the passenger door and stepped outside before being joined by his men. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he was amazed at how fresh the air in this world was. The musty, often tiberium-contaminated air of Kazakhstan just could not compare.
Glancing at the squad of soldiers that would accompany him as his bodyguards, he looked over their black and grey polymer body armor, noting their faceplates, which completely obscured their faces behind a red T-shaped visor. He hoped their less-than friendly appearance would not set the horses off.
Straightening his tie and peaked cap, Alexander motioned to the squad to follow him and started walking towards the horses, who had stopped a distance away from them, taking in their appearance just as he and his men were taking in theirs. Closing the distance between himself and the equines, he hoped for the best, or at least to not get run through with a spear or sword.
‘Twice in one lifetime is enough…’
----
As they closed the distance between themselves and the group of metal beasts that had gone out to meet them, Lightning Strike and his accompanying Guard squad witnessed what appeared to be a door opening from the side of the lead creature. Stepping out of it was a bipedal creature of some kind. A mechanical whirring and the sound of metal thudding against the ground came from behind one of the larger metal creatures. Soon after, the biped was joined by six more of its kind, upon which they began walking over to where the ponies stood.
It was then the lieutenant and his Guards realized that the metal creatures were actually vehicles, though how they were able to move without being drawn by anything was beyond them. Glancing up at the flying creatures that were not far off, they began to wonder if those were vehicles as well, perhaps some kind of airship.
The approach of the bipeds regained their attention. At twenty paces distance the bipeds stopped, the lead one standing straight, placing its… hands, they assumed they were, behind its back and looked Lightning Strike right in the eye. The others fanned out behind it and stood rigid and stiff, completely unmoving.
Lightning Strike and his Guards barely kept themselves from gawking at the bipeds’ utterly alien appearance. The apparent leader of them was easily distinguishable from the rest, who looked completely identical to each other. Clothed in strangely Equestrian-like garments, the leader of the bipeds was impeccably dressed. Sporting what looked like a black suit and tie, overcoat, and peaked officer’s cap reminiscent of the kind often worn by Royal Guard officers in Stalliongrad, the leader gave an air of long-lived authority. The various emblems and insignias of a likely military nature that decorated the leader’s outfit only accentuated its appearance, the most notable of them being a red and black chamfered triangle depicting a black hand print.
Its apparent subordinates, however, were not as aesthetically agreeable. Clad from top to bottom in black and grey armor of some kind with pouches in various places, their appearance produced an air of menace. While the their leader’s face was visible, theirs was completely covered by their helmets and masks, the glowing crimson perpendicular slits seemingly staring right into the Guards. The weapons gripped in their hands were also as strange and threatening as their wielders. Elongated in design and fitted with a number of contraptions, the bipeds’ weapons held an untold promise of extraordinary power.
The two groups continued to stare at each other, almost daring the other side to make the first move. After a few tense moments, Lightning Strike decided to break the silence, “Halt! Be you friend or foe?”
The biped leader’s eyes seemed to widen a bit as it quirked an eyebrow, as if it was astounded that he could speak. Lightning Strike felt a little incredulous at the implied astonishment of the biped, ‘Have they never seen a pony before?’
Regaining its composure, the lead biped straightened its back before calling out in a masculine voice in perfect Equestrian, “Friend!”
That the being had just spoken to him in his own tongue was quite shocking to Lightning Strike. Glancing behind him, he saw that he was not the only one amazed at what happened. Low Flight and his squad were wide-eyed, Flash nearly dropping his spear. The lieutenant was suddenly feeling much more confident about the outcome of this encounter; these beings were intelligent, spoke the same language as the ponies, and have not yet displayed hostile intent.
Lightning Strike decided to assert himself as a martial authority to the bipedal beings to try and pry as much information as possible from them. Hoping not to set the bipeds off due to some unknown cultural bravado on their part, he spoke, “In the name of the Princesses, the Royal Sisters who rule the Principality of Equestria, I demand you identify yourselves and state your reason for being here!”
He swore the leader stifled a laugh before replying, “I am Confessor Alexander Andric of the Brotherhood of Nod. We greet you. We were a reinforcement convoy headed to one of our own locales when an anomalous event displaced us from our world to yours. We had seen your town when we first arrived and headed towards it with the hope of finding assistance. You have my apologies if we startled you with our approach. May I ask who I have the pleasure of speaking with?”
‘Startled? That’s an understatement.’ Lightning Strike thought with slight annoyance.
Finding this “confessor” affable if nothing else, he figured it could not hurt to start a dialogue with him, firstly by giving his own name and title, “I am Lieutenant Lightning Strike of the Equestrian Royal Guard.”
The confessor nodded, “A pleasure to meet you, lieutenant.”
Lightning Strike fell silent at that, taking a moment to process everything the confessor had told him, ‘Wayward travelers from another world. I almost wouldn’t believe it. These strange visitors and their war machines… Wait, war machines?’
He froze up, thinking back on what the confessor had told him about his group, that they were a “reinforcement” convoy, denoting a martial nature on their part. That their vehicles did not look like simple carriages supported the notion that these visitors were more than simply wayward travelers who had lost their way. To have a foreign military presence in Equestria was concerning enough, but that they were aliens capable of Celestia knows what only made things that much more worrying. Without thinking he pressed the matter, “You said you were a reinforcement convoy. You are soldiers?”
The confessor seemed slightly taken aback, as if surprised that the lieutenant had just figured out that they were soldiers, “Yes, I suppose you can say that. As I said, we were on our way to reinforce one of our locales. You suspect our presence, I’m guessing? Perfectly understandable. Technically we ARE a foreign military in your country. Though I assure you that you have nothing to worry about. We posses no hostile intent and simply wish to return home.”
The confessor’s words carried the odd quality of truth from an untrustworthy source. To anypony else, it would seem like a sincere admittance from an intriguing alien visitor with a pleasant disposition, but Lightning Strike found the confessor and his assurances somewhat shifty. He could not place his hoof on it, but there was definitely something shady about the confessor, that his assurance of their lack of hostile intent or a secret agenda, while true for the moment, were but platitudes to hold the ponies over until he could decide his next move.
While Lightning Strike was somewhat suspicious of the confessor, it soon became apparent that not all of his subordinates shared his suspicions. This dissent came in the form of Thunder, who decided to give voice to a brilliant idea he concocted, “Say, if these guys are soldiers, maybe they could help us against the demons?”
“Hey, now there’s an idea. I mean, those war chariots of theirs or whatever they are look pretty mean, and those flying things… Who knows what kind of damage they can do?” Flash added.
Low Flight, however, was not as receptive to the idea, scowling at the two for speaking out of turn as well as potentially giving the alien visitors leverage over them. Thunder and Flash withered under their sergeant’s intense glare, wondering what merciless reprimand they would receive upon their grey hides and how long it would be until they regained feeling in their legs and wings afterwards. Lightning Strike in the meanwhile was on the verge of a panic attack, praying to Celestia as well as whatever deities the bipeds were bothered with that the confessor had not heard Thunder.
He would be forsaken in that regard. “I’m sorry? Help against what? Demons, he said? Do you require assistance?” the confessor asked, apparently flabbergasted.
Low Flight immediately tried to preemptively disabuse any notions the confessor might be having, “Never you mind! It’s no concern of yours. You- sir?”
Lightning Strike raised a hoof, silencing the sergeant. Figuring the damage was already done, he decided to try and turn the current situation to his advantage, an exceptionally bold and risky move considering his typical aversion to such. Taking the confessor’s last question as an open-ended offer, he posed his own to see how willing the bipeds were to help, “Perhaps we do. Would you be willing help us?”
The confessor was silent for a moment, apparently in thought, before replying, “That honestly depends. I’m a bit wary about jumping into a foreign war without at least understanding the circumstances. I believe your subordinate said something about demons? A simple pejorative for your enemies? Or actual demons? Fire and brimstone and all that?”
Before Lightning Strike could answer, Low Flight decided to finally let his objections to what he was attempting to do known to the lieutenant. “Sir! You can’t be serious about trying to enlist these strangers to help us! We have no idea where they’re from, any previous loyalties they had, or what they’re capable of!” he whispered.
“Indeed we don’t. But I’d rather find out what they can do with them on our side than our enemies’.” Seeing that Low Flight was still apprehensive, he continued, hoping to put his worries at rest, “I understand your being doubtful about this, sergeant, but this occurrence may be a valuable opportunity to turn things around for us, and one we might regret if we don’t take it.”
Low Flight sighed, “You have a point, sir. But we should be careful around them regardless.”
Lightning Strike grinned at that, “Of course, sergeant. You know me.”
Having convinced Low Flight, he returned his attention to the confessor and his soldiers, who had been watching the ponies in disguised interest, undoubtedly curious about what they were whispering about among themselves. He opted to be honest with the confessor, hoping he would not scare him off with the particulars of their predicament, “Actual demons. From the depths of Tartarus itself. They have attacked our country, raiding outlaying settlements and even the major cities, killing many innocents.”
“Oh… That’s terrible. Tartarus, that’s hell? The underworld?” the confessor asked.
Blinking at the unfamiliar term “hell,” Lightning Strike elaborated for him, “… Yes, it is. It’s the underworld from which evil creatures of all kinds originate. They normally can’t escape from it into our world, but that has changed as of late.”
He continued, trying to appeal to their consciences, “Many of our citizens have been killed by the demons, and many more are suffering greatly, having been displaced from their homes.”
He finished by purporting the notion that the confessor and his group would earn the good graces of more than just Equestria should they choose to help, “It is not only our country that has been attacked by the demons, but our neighbors as well. The gryphons, the buffalos, the zebras… all have been attacked. This does not solely affect our nation.”
Lightning Strike stopped there, waiting to see the confessor’s reaction, and he could almost see a strange bulb-shaped object suddenly light up above his head before replying, “That’s quite a lot to take in. So your entire world has been besieged by these demons, then? Well, far be it from us to sit idly by and watch innocents burn. Yours is a righteous cause, and we are willing to join you in your fight against the evil that plagues your country.”
Lightning Strike stared at the confessor, unbelieving that his gambit had worked. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, he regained his composure before addressing the biped, “You have our appreciation. I hope to see your mettle against the demons.”
“That you shall. I look forward to working with you, lieutenant.” Turning back towards his soldiers, the confessor said something to them unheard by the ponies. The soldiers saluted before spinning on their heels and walking back behind one of the vehicles. The confessor turned back towards the lieutenant, “I take it you’re from the town, yes? It’s the only sign of civilization we’ve seen out here.”
Lightning Strike nodded, “Yes we are. I’m the commander of the Ponyville garrison of Royal Guard.”
Again he saw the confessor stifling a laugh, “Ponyville? That is the name of the town?”
Lightning Strike raised an eyebrow, failing to see what was so funny, “Yes, it is.”
Quickly burying his mirth, the confessor continued, “Might I be able to visit… Ponyville, then? I would like to see things for myself so I can fully appreciate your situation. And also to help you put at ease the town’s inhabitance, who are likely perturbed about our appearance, correct?”
Suddenly remembering a particular conversation he had with Mayor Mare about possibly having to evacuate Ponyville that he now had to rescind, he agreed to the confessor’s request, “Uh, yes! I mean, yes, that would be most helpful, actually. If you could accompany us back to Ponyville…”
“Splendid! We’ll follow you.” the confessor said as he made for his vehicle.
“Wait! You’re going to follow us in your vehicles?” Lightning Strike asked, finding the idea objectionable for a number of reasons.
“Of course. It’s quite a walk to town from here.” the confessor replied, already inside his vehicle.
“You can’t-“
“Lead the way, lieutenant!” With that, the confessor slammed the door to his vehicle shut.
Staring for a moment, Lightning Strike sighed before turning towards Low Flight and his squad, “Sergeant, you and your squad return to your column. We’re heading back to town with our… guests.”
“Yes sir.” Low Flight motioned for his squad to follow him before galloping back to their column, resuming their designated spot.
Lightning Strike in the meanwhile walked back to the columns of Guards, who had been watching the entire exchange between their commander and the bipedal aliens. Sucking in a deep breath, he yelled the order to return home, “We’re heading back! COLUMN! ABOUT FACE!”
As one, all five hundred Guards spun around, facing back towards Ponyville.
“MARCH!”
Beginning the march back to town, he could hear sighs of relief from Guards who were glad to not have to fight the metal beasts and grumbles of disappointment from those who were irritated at having marched out all this distance and not seeing any action for it. He shared in all their feelings; relief at having dodged a needless fight that probably would have ended badly, irritation at having sortied a fighting force of five hundred Guards for nothing, and a mixture of curiosity and wariness about their newfound allies.
Not far off, Thunder and Flash could be heard conversing, apparently pleased with themselves with how things turned out. “That worked out nicely, I think. We got ourselves some new allies!” Thunder said, quite satisfied with himself.
“Who knew your big mouth would actually help things instead of just getting us into trouble.” Flash remarked.
“It still has…”
Their sergeant’s voice interrupted their self-congratulation, the low and menacing tone cutting into them like the sharpest sword. They both froze, sweat drops beginning to form on their foreheads. Flash’s life began to flash before his eyes.
Thunder tried to make a consequentialist argument to persuade Low Flight to spare him and Flash from whatever terrible fate he had in mind for them. Barely being able to speak without stuttering, he made his case, “B-but sir! The lieutenant convinced those beings to help us! It all worked out in the end, huh?”
Low Flight eyed the two, trying to think of the best way to get their hopes up before tearing them asunder. After a moment, he thought of something suitable. Sighing, he said “… That he did. And while I’m still wary of it, you two may have stumbled cock-first upon a way to turn things around for us, maybe Equestria. I guess your big mouth did actually work out for us this time, Thunder.”
Thunder and Flash sighed in relief, thinking themselves saved. Low Flight looked at them with barely disguised sadistic glee as he prepared the killing blow, “But that still doesn’t change the fact that you circumvented the chain of command by just blurting out your idea without running it by the lieutenant or me first.”
Thunder and Flash went wide-eyed as their jaws dropped, their attempt to save themselves having failed. “But Sarge! He- I-“ Flash began before Low Flight cut him off.
“Circumvention of authority like that cannot go unpunished. Such requires… disciplinary action.” he finished lowly.
The two stared at their sergeant, noting a very unsettling smile forming on his features. They lowered their heads and acceped their fates, Flash voicing their shared resignation.
“Aww, horsefeathers…”
----
Making himself comfortable in the humvee’s passenger seat, Alexander could not help but breathe a sigh of relief. By any standard, the encounter with the horses had gone over rather well. No one was killed, they actually talked with each other, and he was on the verge of establishing a working relationship with the local authorities.
‘Step one in assuring a supply base for ourselves.’ he thought with satisfaction.
The driver, noting the faint smile on his commander’s face, queried the outcome of his meeting with the horses, “So how’d it go, sir? You seem pleased.”
“You could say that. I’ve agreed for us to help these horses in their fight against demons, so follow them when they start moving. Keep a comfortable distance, though. We don’t want to spook them.” Alexander ordered, waiting for the inevitable disbelief from the driver at the absurd premise and seemingly idiotic decision to jump blindly into a foreign conflict with what are essentially aliens.
“Uh, sir? That… That’s, uh…” the driver stuttered, at a loss for words.
Alexander raised a hand, “I know what you’re thinking, and no, I haven’t gone mad. I know what I’m doing. Need I remind you, we’re stranded in this world, completely cut off. Helping the locals against a common threat is a good first step in securing a supply base for ourselves.”
“Good point, sir.” the driver conceded. He paused for a moment, just picking up on something else peculiar about what his commander just said, “Wait… Demons? You said we’re going to help them fight demons? As in actual demonic, from hell, fire and brimstone demons? Uh… sir?”
Alexander let out a sharp laugh before answering him, “That’s what I said. Yes, actual demonic demons from Tartarus, what they call hell around here. From the flying and talking horse soldiers and the distinct lack of tiberium everywhere, I think it’s safe to assume we’re ‘not in Kansas anymore,’ brother.”
The driver, still apprehensive about fighting actual demons from hell, asked, “Uh, you sure we can take on actual demons, sir? I mean, demons…”
Alexander gave a noncommittal shrug, “If these horses can fight them with spears and swords, I think our hardware won’t have too much difficulty with them either.”
“Again, good point sir.” the driver said before revving up the humvee, taking after the columns of horses who had spun around and were now marching back towards the town.
Grabbing the radio, Alexander decided to finally brief the convoy on the current situation. Clearing his throat, he spoke, “ This is Confessor Alexander Andric to all convoy elements. As some of you may have noticed, we’ve been displaced to a world that is clearly not our own. We’ve made contact with the natives, a bunch of sentient horses. Yes, you heard right, sentient horses. We’ll be helping them in their fight against demons. From hell. Don’t take too long trying to wrap your heads around that. We’ve got sentient talking horses that can fly, after all.”
He looked out the window, seeing his escorts keep pace with the humvee. Turning his attention back towards the radio, he issued his orders to the convoy, “I’m heading to the horses’ town, Ponyville, to work something out with them.” Hearing some snickers over the radio, he waited a moment for them to subside before continuing, “Laugh at the town’s name now and get it out of your systems before I call for you. Escorts stay on me. All remaining convoy elements, hold position and await further orders. Out.”
Hiss, having heard everything, slithered back out from the pack on the floor, making its way up to Alexander’s shoulders. Making itself comfortable around his neck, Hiss decided to voice its opinion on the matter, “(You’re rather quick to help these horses against the forces of hell. Kind of treading unknown territory, don’t you think?)”
Alexander replaced the radio back on its hook before replying, “I process things rather quickly. You know that.”
“(I’d call that 'hastiness' or ‘rashness.’ Rather ill-advised to just jump into an unknown geopolitical situation like this, I’d think. Become friends with the horses while becoming the enemy of who? This can blow up in our faces in so many ways. You know that, right?)”
He waved off Hiss’ concerns, “You said the same thing in Kazakhstan about Old Charlie. We’ll figure it out as we go along. It’ll be fine.”
Hiss could only stare at his impassiveness at the gravity of the current situation, “(It’s hard to believe you’ve lasted this long if you’re this laid back about this sort of thing.)”
He chortled at the snake’s amazement at him, “Your faith in me is overwhelming. How’s this, then? I promise to freak out and panic about all this after an aspirin and some scotch. Honestly, though, I’ve worked the margins. We’re stranded here. We help these horses, be valuable allies to them, not a terribly hard feat considering they use spears and such while we’ve got tanks, and they might put us up at least until we figure out what’s going on. Besides, if what this Lieutenant Lightning Strike tells me is true, there’s already a united front against these demons. I think it’s a safe bet for now.”
Accepting his justification for the moment, Hiss moved on to another subject that had raised a scaly eyebrow, “(Whatever you say. And demons? We’re going to fight demons from hell? Normally I’d commend you for being so ballsy, but I think you might be a little in over your head with this one.)”
“Look at it this way. If we’re all crucified upside down while being burned and flayed alive and possibly being sexually violated by demons in the burning fires of hell after all this, then I’ll know that this was the wrong thing to do.” he replied.
“(Ah, I’ve always enjoyed your pitch-black sense of humor. One of the many reasons I made you mine.)”
Quickly losing any levity, Alexander suppressed a shudder and looked away, not wanting to see the sudden lustful reptilian gaze that he just knew was now observing him. Looking out at the columns of marching equine soldiers, he knew Hiss was right in one regard; he was taking an extraordinary gamble in joining these horses’ fight essentially blind aside from what little they had told him. Having made his decision, he only hoped that it was the right one.
As the town the horses called “Ponyville” came closer into view, Alexander had but a single thought…
‘I’m going to have a hard time working this into my memoir…’