Magitank
Chapter 1
Timbers
* * *
I just don’t know what went wrong. Everything used to be so simple. It wasn’t entirely sunshine and rainbows, but it was happier. Better, even. At least until Ponyville. That was the big turning point. It’s funny, really. There wasn’t even anything special or notable about that little town, save for some quality cider, but everything changed after it was destroyed. The Purge started, the war started, and everypony got really good at killing each other. At least we had the Empress. She was probably the only good thing that came from Celestia’s death. Shards, maybe it all started then, when she came into power. She tried so hard to bring peace. Ah well, that’s all been almost thirty years or so in the past. Then the meteors came and wiped out every reason to even care about that history. None of it even matters now. It’s just as well, maybe they were supposed to be some twisted chance at a fresh start. Some excuse to start over and do better this time...
I think we blew it.
* * *
“Please... let me find somepony. Please... just a little big further... please...”
The colt staggered up the hill as best he could. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do with only three good legs, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to try to pull out the jagged bit of shrapnel in his flank. It wasn’t even that big of a hill, but between the dust choking his lungs and rough debris underhoof, he felt like he was trying to climb Mount Everfree.
He looked around at his surroundings. Dust and dirt covered the land, his every step kicking up just enough to see evidence of grass before the wind kicked up and buried it again. The sky was completely dark, and haze concealed the sun. Or maybe the moon. He had no idea whether it was supposed to be day or night. The colt himself was stained grey with grime, and his normally cream-colored coat was indistinguishable from his cadet’s vest. He wiped dust from his eyes, despite having already rubbed his face raw. The wind kicked up and blew more into his face.
Eventually, he reached the top of the hill. He caught himself smiling a bit as he squinted to see through the haze. He should have been able to spot the town of Outer Canterlot from here, but without any visible landmarks, he had no idea where he was. The dust started to clear and the colt’s face fell. The ground was covered in rubble, leaving only skeletal remains of buildings poking from the surface.
The colt, however, worried more with what he saw even further in the distance. Just on the other side of what remained of the town was Canterlot Mountain, with the famed capital city in it’s peaks. At least, it should have been. What he saw was a massive, smouldering crater and a giant pile of rubble.
Not possible, he thought. Then he recognized one of the city’s spires in the dirt. He collapsed to the ground, wincing as the shrapnel in his leg dug deeper. He wasn’t even entirely sure where the injury had come from, other than that it was a piece of the now ruined academy. The pain helped him to take his mind off the sight of the city, and despite being thankful for the distraction, wanted to deal with the immediate problem. He vaguely remembered something from the academy about medical procedure, and resolved to remove the shrapnel before it dug too deep.
The colt twisted onto his side, injured leg up. He focused on the injury and a soft green glow enveloped the shard of metal as he attempted to pull it out. He stopped after a couple of seconds, gasping for breath. After a moment, he shut his eyes, clenched his teeth, and tried once more. With a white flash of pain and a small yelp, it was free.
Satisfied, the colt pushed himself back up, but the pain from his injury made it difficult to do anything more than sit. He looked back over the horizon. The city was still in ruins and Canterlot... Crater was still smoking. He stared for some time, just taking in the sight. He looked for any sign of life, wanting to find some evidence that he wasn’t alone in the wasteland.
What now? he thought. The next closest city was miles away, and he wasn’t even sure if it would still be standing. Canterlot looks even worse than the academy. How could this have happened?!
The colt gave a sigh and thought about how he could get to Fillydelphia, or maybe Dodge Junction. He wasn’t sure which was closer. Before that, thought, I should probably rest for a minute. Not for long, just a little rest. He continued staring at the ruin that had been home, unable to look away.
* * *
The colt snapped to attention. When he opened his eyes, he noticed a bit of movement in the ruins. It was far off, and it wouldn’t have been the first time that a shimmer in the haze had tricked him. But there it was. In the distance, almost concealed by the smoke, something was moving. Moving fast, and kicking up a lot of dust.
“Too fast to be somepony on foot,” he said to himself. “An engine, maybe? That could mean somepony with the guard. Maybe several someponies!”
He started towards whatever it was that he’d seen, but didn’t get far. His hind leg wasn’t moving, and it felt like it had gone numb.
That’s weird, my leg’s asleep? the colt thought. He shook out his other limbs, then levitated a small black box from a pocket in his vest. He extended a long, silver antennae from it before holding it to his mouth.
“If somepony with the guard is here, then maybe...” He pushed a button on the box’s side. “Hello? Can anypony hear me? Is anyone there? Uh... over.” Silence. Every second that passed felt like an eternity.
“Hello?” a voice said. It was heavily distorted from static. “Who are you? State your name. Over.”
The colt almost dropped the radio from excitement. Fumbling with the button, he responded, “I, er, my name is Greenhorn. I’m a cadet at the Imperial Military Academy. Or... I was. I’ve been wandering for days, can you help me? O-over.” More eternities passed, and the colt started counting his breaths.
“A survivor?” came the reply. “Sure... we’ll help. Can you give us your location?”
“Of course!” Greenhorn replied. He searched frantically for anything that made the hill stick out. Finding nothing, he turned back to his radio. “I’m on a hill overlooking Canterlot... wait, I’ll try to make a beacon! Hold on. Over.” With that, he pocketed his radio and focused on his horn, tiny beads of sweat forming on his brow. After a moment, a billiant ball of light erupted from his horn and soared into the sky. “Did... did you see it? Ov... over,” the colt said, and coughed up a lungful of dust as he tried to catch his breath.
“...Heh,” his radio crackled. “You see that, boys?”
“That we do, boss,” came a different voice.
“That’s your target,” the first voice said. “Find that cadet, and bring me anything he has. He’ll have a head start, so enjoy your chase. Just leave him where he falls. Over.”
“W-what?!” Greenhorn cried out and tried to put distance between himself and his beacon, but only managed to flop over onto the ground. He looked back to see what he’d tripped over.
Nothing, he realized, and noticed his leg bleeding freely. He cursed under his breath and levitated the bad leg. It was awkward, but he managed to walk a good fifteen or so steps downhill before he dropped it in exhaustion. The impact of his leg against the ground sent a shock of pain through him, energizing him like a bucket of water, and he continued. Or attempted to, as putting all his focus into lifting his bad leg left little awareness.
The colt stumbled over a piece of debris and rolled down the hill, stopping abruptly against something hard and metal. He opened his eyes and tried to steady his head to stop the sky from spinning. He looked over to see what he vaguely recognized as tank treads, which belonged to the very much operational vehicle that he just slammed in to.
Is this it, then? he thought. He tried to focus his eyes, but found it much easier to just close them.
“Dess?” the voice sounded far away. “Help me get him in. They’ll be here soon.”
This sucks, he thought. It became difficult to breathe, then he lost awareness completely.
* * *
Greenhorn woke up. I’m alive? he thought. Why didn’t they kill me? He couldn’t see anything, even after he remembered to open his eyes. His surroundings were nearly pitch black, aside from a small sliver of light coming from somewhere to his left. He sat up, trying to get a better look at whatever it was, then realized his mistake. His head spun, temples pounding, and a searing pain shot through his legs. He fell back, wincing, and light flooded his vision.
“Well, now,” a voice said, coming from somewhere towards the light. “You’re awake. There’s thirty bits that I just lost. Like that even matters anymore.”
“W-what?” Greenhorn muttered. He blinked the light from his eyes. After a moment, a figure came into focus. There was a pony standing in front of him and a lantern on the table right behind it.
“I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure if you’d wake up,” it said. It walked a bit closer, letting Greenhorn get a better look. The pony was a stallion, a bit older than himself. He was sporting a dark blue mane with a lighter grey coat. He wore a vest that covered his cutie mark and matched Greenhorn’s own, but had fewer dirt stains.
“If it were me,” he continued, I’m not sure I’d even want to wake up... but that’s life, eh?” He let out a small chuckle. “So, what’s your story? Anypony with your expertise at calling raiders to come and kill you has to be interesting, right?”
Greenhorn blinked, trying to process the question. The stallion asked a second time before the colt found his words. “I was... I was just trying to find somepony. What happened?”
The stallion cracked a smile, then laughed. “What happened,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension, “is that you called a bunch of raiders over to you and then knocked yourself unconscious. Way to go with that, by the way. You’re lucky the captain was there to save you.”
“You mean... You aren’t with those ponies that tried to kill me?”
“Of course not, you silly foal,” he said. We’re... eh... well, the captain explains it better, what with him being a goody-goody and all. Point is, we’re the ones that saved you, and we aren’t looking to kill you. My name’s Fleethoof by the way, since you didn’t ask. I’m the one that treated your injuries.”
“I’m Greenhorn.” The colt winced and rubbed his head. “I’m a cadet at the academy.”
I know that, you dolt,” Fleethoof said. “More ponies than you realize know that. You pretty much broadcasted that everywhere when you used that radio of yours. You should be careful with that thing... you never know who’s listening in. Or rather you do know. Everypony is.”
“So,” Greenhorn started. He gathered his thoughts. “I’m alive, and I’m with ponies that don’t want to kill me?”
“Yup,” Fleethoof said with a chuckle. “That about sums it up.”
“Oh... well that’s... an improvement, then.”
“Yes, this is a vast improvement from bleeding out alone in the wasteland. Arguably.” Fleethoof cocked his head. “You really hit your head hard, didn’t you? Or maybe it was the blood loss. Speaking of which, we should really have a talk about what not to do when you have a bit of sharp metal sticking in you.”
Greenhorn groaned and tried to sit up. It went much better this time, with hardly any head-spinning at all, but his leg still felt like it was on fire. “Why’s it so dark?” he asked.
“Oh, so you can get up. That’s a good thing.” The medic mumbled something under his breath. “And of course it’s dark. What did you expect? The sun isn’t out... I think, and we’re inside a tent. It’s not night, but it isn’t day either. Ever since the meteors hit, it’s been like some kind of eternal dusk.”
“Or eternal dawn, just waiting for somepony to bring the sun back,” a stallion said as he entered the tent. He was much more imposing looking than Fleethoof and looked to be at least two times the colt’s size. At first glance, his coat looked white, but at a second glance, Greenhorn noticed several patches of brown fur on him, including one over his eye. His other eye was covered by a different patch, and had a jagged scar crossing through behind it. The stallion wore a vest as well, but this one was dyed dark blue and had a grime encrusted pin on the front. The stallion smiled when he looked at the injured colt, and extended his hoof.
Fleethoof shook his head. “Were you sitting outside just waiting to say something corny?”
“I’m Captain Pipsqueak, by the way,” he said. He had hints of an accent that the colt didn’t recognize. “Glad to see that you’re awake, cadet. I’m sorry that we didn’t warn you over the radio, but we couldn’t contact you without risking giving ourselves away as well.”
“S-sure,” Greenhorn replied. He accepted the hoofshake. “Wait... Pipsqueak?”
“Yes?”
The colt looked over the huge pony again. “This must be somepony’s idea of a joke...” he mumbled. The captain raised an eyebrow. “Er, you’re a captain?”
“Ah, Fleethoof didn’t tell you?” He looked towards the medical pony.
“Introductions are your strong suit, Captain,” Fleethoof said. “I’m just here to patch up scrapes.”
“And we’re all better off because of it,” the captain said. He patted the medic on the back, then turned back to Greenhorn. “Though to answer your question, I’m captain of the Fourth Battalion, which was brought together by the empress herself. Allow me to formerly welcome you to the temporary new home of Pip’s Timbers. We’ve made it our goal to help anypony we can in the aftermath of this disaster, especially with those raiders stalking around.”
Greenhorn blinked. “That sounds great!” he said, and smiled. “What’s a timber?”
“It’s the unofficial name of the Fourth Battalion,” Pipsqueak said. “We work together to become greater than the sum of our parts, like a timberwolf comprised of chunks of wood. I thought it was fitting.”
“Oh, that’s... urgh...” the colt trailed off. He clutched his stomach and groaned.
“What’s wrong?” the captain asked.
Fleethoof shrugged. “He didn’t like the name, I think.”
“Sorry, I’m fine,” Greenhorn said. “I just haven’t eaten in awhile.”
“Oh, good,” Fleethoof said. “I wouldn’t want to stitch your leg again if you wound up tearing your injury open like an idiot.”
“That was your stomach?” Pipsqueak asked. He shot an aside glare at Fleethoof. “We can take care of that. There’s some spare rations, help yourself to a pouch and a canteen.” He waved at a pair of saddlebags hanging from under the table.
At that, the colt’s face lit up, and Fleethoof scoffed. “Don’t get excited,” he said. “Trust me, all we have to eat is dry oatmeal. It’s hardly appetizing.”
“Sir,” a voice came from outside the tent, and a mare’s head poked inside. “Finish this later, we’ve got raiders mobilizing nearby.”
“Right, let’s get our tanks in position,” the captain said, already leaving the tent. The mare glanced at Greenhorn, then followed. Fleethoof sighed.
“I suppose that’s my cue as well,” he said, but stayed where he was. He thought for a moment, then continued, “Don’t try to stand on that leg. If you open your wound and bleed out, I don’t want to be the one to bury you.” He started outside the tent, but paused again. “I hate digging,” he said, then left.
Greenhorn decided to try getting up once more, despite the advice of the medical pony. He was never good at sitting still anyway. He started climbing out of the cot that he’d been lying in, and tried to balance on three hooves before letting his injured leg touch the ground. His head spun and the corners of his vision blurred, which distorted his balance and threatened to knock him over. He gave his head a good shake, which helped somewhat, then let his left-hind carry its weight. The colt took a few steps, wincing as he put extra weight on his injury, but other than a fair share of soreness, he seemed fine.
I guess it wasn’t as bad as it looked, Greenhorn thought. He paced around in small circles to walk off the pain. The inside of the tent wasn’t anything fancy, he noted, having a chance to look around properly. Aside from a lantern on the table and the saddlebags, the tent was bare. He opened up the bags. Inside were about a dozen small linen pouches, as well as several canteens.
These are the rations? He levitated one of the pouches, then smiled upon seeing the contents. Oatmeal, just as advertised. He put one of the canteens around his shoulder and stepped outside.
Greenhorn blinked as he saw the rest of the camp. He wasn’t really sure what he’d expected, but he’d definitely expected more. The entire operation consisted of only seven tents, including the one the colt just left, and all of them in differing states of disrepair. He saw at least three of the tents at a glance that were mostly patchwork. Towards the edge of the camp was a tent that was about double the size of the others, and a pair of parallel tread tracks led out into the wasteland.
So much for the Fourth Battalion... This place is a dump. He shook his head. That’s not fair to think that. I’m lucky that I ran into them at all!
He trotted around the camp. It felt like the place actually was abandoned. Everypony was gone, presumably to help fend off the raiders. I guess that’s necessary. There can’t be too many ponies living here, and I have no idea how many raiders there are.
The colt heard a loud rumble as his stomach reminded him of his hunger. He levitated the ration pouch from his side and started chewing at the dry grains. It was hardly a meal, but he was happy to have anything edible.
Greenhorn started towards the edge of camp, hoping to catch a glimpse of where everypony went. He followed the tread marks with his eyes, but stopped when he noticed the now familiar crater in the distance. It made sense that they would go to Canterlot, as it was the only major landmark on the horizon, but the colt dismissed the thought. He stomped the ground with his injured leg, and the inevitable jolt of pain told him that he wasn’t dreaming. That Canterlot being gone wasn’t just his imagination.
Everything hit him at once. Outer Canterlot was a ruin, and his home on the second floor of his parent’s sweet shop was demolished. Peers that he’d shared classes with just a week prior were left behind in the ruins of the academy. The capital was gone, along with the mountain that the empress had watched over the land from. It felt like yesterday that she’d given her speech to the academy instructors, thanking them for their contribution to the war effort. Even somepony as powerful as her couldn’t survive what had happened to Canterlot.
His neighbors from home, the fellow students from class, and even the perpetually angry instructor Klaxon, whom he swore had held a grudge against him, they were all gone. He was with a group of complete strangers that he had decided to stay with only because they said that they didn’t want to kill him. He fought back tears, realizing that he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do. It was obvious why that medical pony didn’t think he’d want to wake up.
And this oatmeal tastes terrible, Greenhorn thought with a grimace. He tried his best not to gag, and went for his canteen to wash it down, when the sudden sound of garbled static made him jump. His radio had been on, and it was picking up a signal. The colt felt a chill in his spine. Have I been transmitting this entire time?! No, wait, radios don’t work that way. He exhaled in relief. I’d need to be holding down the transmit button for that. Besides, those raiders only found me before because of my magic. As long as I don’t send any kind of message, I’ll be fine. He levitated the radio in front of him and started fiddling with the dials, causing the static to form into coherent speech.
“...don’t know why you’re bothering, friend,” a voice said. Greenhorn flinched as he recognized it as the pony who’d ordered him dead.
“It’s not hard to understand,” came Captain Pipsqueak’s confident voice. “I’m still a soldier, and it’s still my duty to protect anyone I can. You remember what duty is, right? You must have been with the Imperials, same as me. Unless you’re a rebel, but even they never attacked civilians.”
“Spare me.” The raider’s reply was cold and unemotional. “That all stopped when the meteors fell. Equestria died, and we’re all that’s left. There is no more law, and our only ‘duty’ is to ourselves. That was true even before this all happened.”
“You’re wrong,” the captain said.
“You’re deluded.”
“Maybe.” The captain gave a small laugh. “But if I’m the only one here to keep you from killing survivors, then that makes things simple. We won’t let you attack anyone else. That’s our duty.”
“If you insist.” The raider almost sounded bored. “Captain... Pipsqueak, was it? That’s amusing, your parents must have been very vindictive. My name is Phalanx. If you survive this, I’d look forward to meeting you at least once.”
“That’ll happen sooner than you think. Move out, Dess. Let’s end this quickly.”
Greenhorn scanned the horizon once more, looking for signs of the battle, but became distracted by his radio, which had started playing orchestra music. He tapped it a few times to see if it was working properly.
“What are you doing?” a voice from behind made the colt jump and drop his radio. He turned to see Fleethoof staring at him.
“Didn’t you leave already?” the colt asked, shaking the dirt from his radio and pocketing it.
“And I thought you’d still be lying down,” Fleethoof said. He noticed the empty pouch at Greenhorn’s hooves. “How was the oatmeal?”
“I can’t just sit around when something’s going on,” he replied. “My leg’s feeling better. I don’t think it was as bad as you said.”
“You were bleeding badly,” the medical pony said. “You should be taking it easy, but I guess I can’t blame you for being restless. Hard not to be.”
Fleethoof sighed, then tapped his radio.
“...case he got into trouble. I’d prefer to have you deal with that thing anyway, Dess,” The captain’s voice said. “Since they’re just raiders, they’ll probably stick with their standard tactics, but that ‘Phalanx’ pony worried me. I need to know about any other surprises.”
“Don’t worry, Captain,” Fleethoof said to the box on his chest. “I haven’t left you. I don’t fully approve of using the treetop, but you’ll have friends in high places in just a few minutes. Don’t know how much it’ll help in all this haze, but I guess they won’t see us either.”
“Good,” came the captain’s response, “and I know the risks, but I don’t want to take any chances here.”
“Sure thing,” Fleethoof said. He turned to Greenhorn. “You seem to be walking just fine, so follow me.”
“Yes, sir!” the colt replied.
“Don’t call me sir, it’s creepy.” Fleethoof ran into the camp and ducked into the closest tent. The colt followed, wincing.
By the time he arrived at the tent, Fleethoof was already dragging something heavy out of it. It looked like some kind of giant metal basket on treads. It was painted to look like bark and leaves.
“This,” Fleethoof said, hopping into it, “is what we call a treetop lookout.”
He fiddled with some of the controls inside, then beckoned the colt.
“Get in,” he said.
Greenhorn stepped up, opting to climb rather than jump in for his leg’s sake. As soon as he was settled, the treetop shook and lurched forward. Fleethoof steered toward the edge of the camp, and the colt looked over at the controls trying to figure them out.
It looked simple enough. A steering wheel, a couple of petals, two indicator lines, and a few switches made up the entire front end of the vehicle. There was also a polished red button about the size of Greenhorn’s hoof.
“So...” Greenhorn started. He was transfixed by the button. “What’s this for, anyway? I’ve never seen it before.”
“Makes sense. This is pretty new, so I don’t doubt that they haven’t taught you about it at the academy yet,” Fleethoof said. He saw where Greenhorn was looking and smirked. “It’s just a little something in case there aren’t any pegasi with us.” He made an exaggerated show of looking around. “I don’t see any, so it looks like we’re on our own.”
The treetop slowed to a stop about fifty feet from camp. Fleethoof gave the colt a small nod. With a smile, Greenhorn mashed the red button. Fleethoof started snickering.
“That doesn’t do anything by the way,” he said as the disappointed colt hit the button a few more times for good measure.
“Why’d the captain say that this was risky to use, exactly?” the colt asked.
“Simple,” Fleethoof said. “This thing gives us the ability to see an entire battlefield, but it’s pretty vulnerable. Plus, if they see us, they’ll have a good idea where our camp is, which is something that I’d rather those raiders not learn.”
“Makes sense.” Greenhorn nodded.
Fleethoof flicked a couple of switches, causing the vehicle to shake again. The treetop started rising off the ground. He stared at the rising indicator lines as Greenhorn looked down at the ground. It stopped at about three stories up in the air. A soft boom came from the distance, almost inaudible over the static from Fleethoof’s radio.
“How’re you holding up, Captain?” he said, talking to his chest once more. “You’ve got eyes.”
“Good,” Pipsqueak’s voice responded. “What’s all around me?”
It was harder to see from higher up due to the higher flying dust clouds, but Greenhorn could make out a few shapes in the distance. A pair of vehicles sat between two huge bits of debris with about a half dozen dots of ponies between them and unorganized waves of raiders rushing towards them. Flashes of light pierced the haze with each shot fired.
“I don’t want to alarm you,” Fleethoof said, producing a pair of binoculars, “but I think there’s raiders nearby.”
“Funny,” the captain said. “What else?”
“Looks like their standard ‘tactics’ to me, captain. They fling themselves at our biggest guns being all sorts of useless and get mowed down until... oh, crap,” Fleethoof said. His face fell.
“What is it?” the captain and Greenhorn said almost simultaneously.
“Uh... Aw, hell,” Fleethoof said. “They got a little smarter. It looks like they parked an artillery cannon about half a klick south of you. You’re densely packed, if that thing manages-”
“I know,” Pipsqueak said.
Greenhorn squinted, leaning over the edge of the treetop to find the cannon. He spotted it near what used to be a copse of trees. Somepony was standing next to it with a binocular, with somepony else on the way.
“...Crap,” the medical pony said. He fidgeted frantically. “I don’t know, maybe if you shoot a topaz or something at the right angle, you can hit it first. I’ll try to figure out an exact distance, just give me a second.”
“By all means, take your time.”
“How can I help?” Greenhorn asked. He felt useless.
“Don’t distract me,” Fleethoof said, making the colt flinch. He muttered numbers under his breath.
“Okay,” he said after a few moments. “It looks like it’s somewhere between fourteen and sixteen hundred feet, so if you-”
A loud boom came from the battlefield. Both ponies in the treetop scrambled to see what had happened. Thick clouds of smoke blocked their view, and only white noise came from the radio.
“Captain?!” Fleethoof yelled. He tapped his radio frantically.
“...Crisis averted,” a mare’s voice said. “Still doing well, sir?”
“Just fine, Dess,” Pipsqueak said. Greenhorn released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Fleethoof just gaped.
The smoke started to clear, revealing that the timbers were safe. The raider’s artillery cannon didn’t fare as well, as a small crater and clusters of scattered wreckage all around showed. Greenhorn whooped.
“What happened?” Fleethoof said. His mouth hung open slightly.
“Was that the only surprise they had for us, medic?” the mare asked. “The artillery has been taken care of.”
“I-I think so.”
“Good,” she said.
“But...”
“Headcount, everypony?” Pipsqueak said.
“All infantry present, Captain,” another voice that Greenhorn didn’t recognize said. “There aren’t even any major injuries.”
“Good,” the captain said. “That’s what I like to hear. I don’t want any of us dying to those parasites if I can help it. Let’s head back. Take a couple hours, then we’ll comb the town for more survivors.”
Fleethoof sighed and pocketed his radio. He lowered the treetop and started driving back to camp. He started to get lost in thought until the colt broke the silence.
“That wasn’t like training at all,” Greenhorn said to himself. “And I wasn’t even directly involved. In a situation like that? If it wasn’t for that mare... I can only imagine what would’ve happened.”
“Here’s a tip,” Fleethoof said. “Don’t try to imagine. It doesn’t help.”
They arrived back at the camp, and by the time Fleethoof parked the treetop back in its tent, the rest of the Timbers were nearly there. Greenhorn watched as they approached. A half dozen infantry all brandishing rifles on their sides were led by two huge vehicles that gave off rhythmic, metallic clicks with each hoof length of distance they travelled. He’d seen them from a distance, but recognized them as magitanks when he had a closer look. He flashed back to a lesson about them in the academy. Each tank was made up of steel armor thick enough to stop bullets without effort and was armed with a pivoting cannon that was capable of firing standard explosives as well as specialized gem rounds. These particular cannons were blackened with soot from heavy use. As they arrived, a soft hiss came from one of them and a hatched clanged open. The captain climbed out.
“S-sir!” Greenhorn said. He gave a hasty salute.
“Heh, good to see you up and about, cadet,” Pipsqueak said. He walked over to him. “How’s your leg?”
Just fine,” he replied, smiling. “But that’s not important. That battle was incredible! What did that mare do to that artillery?”
“You were watching?” The captain gave a confused frown.
He was with me,” Fleethoof said. “When I got back, he was already up and walking, so I let him ride along on the treetop. I didn’t expect there to be a major problem.”
“I see,” the captain said. “Well, it isn’t a big deal as long as nothing came of it. As for that cannon? Ask Dess. She’s right behind you.”
“Huh?” Greenhorn said. He turned around, suddenly faced with an orange-maned unicorn mare. “Gah!” he yelled, nearly falling over backwards.
“Lieutenant Dess, Fourth Battalion,” she said, raising an eyebrow at the colt. “I used a simple force field spell to prevent the artillery round from leaving the cannon’s barrel. You’ll likely want to learn how to make use of that horn of yours if you’re going to stay with us. If you aren’t useful, you might become a liability. We wouldn’t want that.”
“Easy,” Pipsqueak said. “We’re here to help, not to threaten. He’s not a raider.”
“Yes, sir. Just doing my job,” Dess said. “I’ll report back in two hours after I get some rest.” She waked off.
“Don’t mind her too much, she can be a bit blunt,” the captain said. “You’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you need. Once you’re healed up, anything you can do to help would be appreciated. Everypony has to pull their weight in a crisis, so just do what you can when you can.”
“I appreciate it,” Greenhorn said. “I’ll do my best not to be a problem.” He looked past the captain, towards where he knew Canterlot was. He tried once again to wrap his mind around everything that had happened. Nothing had changed, and everypony was still gone, but he was able to take his mind off of it. He looked up at Pipsqueak and smiled. “Thank you.”
* * *