//------------------------------// // "So far, so good..." // Story: The Retaking of Canterlot // by Charles Rocketboy //------------------------------// There was 360 degrees of chaos and she was flying through noise and one changeling had almost crashed into her by sheer accident and she’d almost stabbed her own wingpony before realising who it was. Diamond Eyes had joined up for physical action (she wasn’t going into the family banking business) and be careful what you bloody wish for. A changeling came head on; she banked to the left, spear stabbing out from her right. Then she banked up because she was about to smack into a building; then she instinctively dropped down as emerald fire started to zero in; then another changeling who’d been this close to getting her was being kicked into the building by Shady. “The rest of the squad is back there!” he yelled, jabbing a dusk-dark wing into the distance. “We’re way off! Open those eyes, Eyes!” “Oh, what a faux pas!” She saw flashes of fire from where she’d just been but ignored it; saw a griffin plummet screaming past her, wings shredded, but ignored it (too late to act); saw a spear, didn’t ignored, rolled to avoid being hit and carried on. There’d been something about pursuing scattered enemies but that had been two minutes ago: a lifetime. *** Diamond Eyes and Shady didn’t notice the balloon above them, but Watcher Three noticed them. “Ponies moving to regroup, seven to nine o’clock – eleven heading back to squads—“ Bead Eye chewed his lip. “Changelings pursuing, multiple angles; rough count thirty, converging!” Comms pony Bluster, clashing off-red and yellow, tapped out frantically on the radio set…. *** Onboard TMA Necessary Action, it was ‘controlled’ chaos, ponies in smart dress uniforms noting down radio codes & magic letters and moving models around a careful map, but it was still chaos. In the middle of the cramped Ops Room, Brigadier Geldmore was a rock of order and gruff calm. Gunnery Officer Rockit felt better every time he glanced at him. That vanished when a comms pony turned round: “Watch3 thirty change prep mob regroup squads; location…” Part of him checked the location against his own map, marked with its little Hasbrony toy of an airship model; in range of Cannon Baker. Part of him quaked in its boots. Any shots fired would hit a building; any part of any building could have civilians. One press of a button and a cannon team would be killing people in his name. He had one second to make the call. *** Gary was a second-generation Equestrian griffin and proud of his country, which didn’t stop him getting a thrill seeing Griffon Kingdom soldiers fly alongside Equestrians. That had been four minutes ago – now his whole world was narrowed down to the stretch of sky in range of Cannon Baker. One turn of the steering wheel and a pull of a chain, and the killer behind the steel wall would turn and strike, and anywhere it pointed— If he was lucky— “WE GOT FIRING LIGHT!” Gary was turning the cannon as soon as the spotter had said the first syllable. A mass of changelings were organising in front of him, and he yanked the chain before he could think beyond that. *** There was a roar like thunder and a rush of air, and Diamond Eyes glanced behind her to see two dozen changelings ripped to pieces. (Unseen, those little ping-pong ball sized bits of lead and stone – “anti-flier rounds” – that hit nothing carried on and tore through the nearest wall) Words failed her. She flew on and two squads regrouped. *** Flash Sentry heard no cannon; he saw nothing but the changeling commander, trying to bring a hammer down on his skull, desperately parried with each turn. Two minutes ago, the horde had started their bombardment strikes; thirty seconds of that had overwhelmed the western barricade and shattered any unicorn shield spell and sent his land ponies staggering back. The pegasi had to land to give them a chance to recover. By then, the entire group was backed up against Harriers and a sixth of their number was dead. That had been a minute ago. Then the changelings had swarmed and it was hoof-to-hoof combat and Flash Sentry’s world had condensed. Now, he stamped down, hard, on his opponent’s foot. The changeling screamed in pain and flew back: “Swarm, back! Charge and fire!” The changelings leapt back as one, leaving behind dead and wounded – and a quarter of Flash’s ponies numbered among them. Now, boxed in, tired, the rest of his ponies would join them once the changelings opened fire. At least they’d given as good as they’d got. That was something. Flash was trying to think of something defiant to yell when, by chance, the changeling leader glanced up and yelled: “Oh crap! EVERYLING SCATTER!” Two seconds later, the rear ranks exploded into flame – flame that reached out and scorched half their number – and the changelings were fleeing, and two seconds after that a griffin had landed talon-first on the changeling leader. No more changeling leader. Flash had heard about the Griffon Kingdom’s firebombs (their chemical make-up was still a state secret) and of the firestormer tactics used in the Great War. Hearing isn’t seeing. The griffin saluted – “Yo!” – and charged off. Now Flash Sentry could see there were twenty griffins on the air and ground, ripping through the changelings like… well, like predators. The air stank of something he could barely comprehend. Things were feeling a little fuzzy around the edges. Everything snapped back into place when some ponies – the Dragoons! – landed. (There were two griffins with the heart-and-cross, but he didn’t notice) “Sergeant Fireflight, sir!” snapped out the Pegasus in charge. “Sitrep!” “Acting-captain Flash Sentry: we have one hundred and sixty four civilians in the shop, and…” (quick count) “nine ponies wounded here, sixteen more inside. When are we breaking out?” “As soon as.” Right. He jabbed a hoof at one of the civilian militiacolts: “Joe, get the barricade back up!” Jabbed at a Royal Guard who was clearly exhausted and would need lighter duties: “Stomper, get that building prepped for prisoners!” At his third-in-command, since his 2IC was currently down and bleeding: “Shine Up, take command of the centre and rearguard!” Jabbed at the three Guards in best condition: “You three, you’re with me – we’re going back into the breach!” Oh Sun yes, he was going back into the breach. *** All the stress of the War Cabinet was gone now: he was where he belonged, snapping out orders and making quick decisions and directed a clear, ordered group. From here, when Geldmore didn’t have to be afraid, everything was simple. Markers were being moved at street level: breakouts in three of the four points. (The changelings were successfully pinning down the fourth) Geldmore nodded to his aid: “Take a note. Your highness and your honours; the enemy’s first wave has been comprehensively routed and three of four breakouts achieved. Casualties remain in the dozens.” Elsewhere on the map, clumps of black markers remained. “We expect the changeling counter-attack to start imminently. The Princess Protects.” *** Strect had wasted valuable seconds staring in horror as his drones were routed, he knew that, but he had recovered. His first wave needed to be written off. It was the swarm on the right flank that he needed now; he’d buzzed up and down the line to make sure everyone knew their job. He waited until the pony front ranks had regrouped into larger squads and yelled: “FIRE!” Down the line, a wave of energy ripped forth again and again. *** The squad leader was yelling to fall back before Diamond Eyes even knew why, and by the time she was moving the squad to her right had fallen like stones. Fire was hitting where she’d been and moving to catch up – there was a brief scream behind her and she knew it was Shady. She cut her speed, heard him scream he was okay (“keep bloody going!”), kept going, swore loudly as a shot just missed her belly. She was back with the main force of pegasi and the changeling fire stopped there; it was continuous, threatening to cut down anypony who flew away from the front ranks. Well, in that case… “Sir, permission to escort my wingpony to medical post!” The squad leader looked at Shady; his side was charred, second-degree for sure. “Granted. Hurry back.” Diamond Eyes put a leg round her partner and said: “No protests, dear heart, you look like you’ll get the vapours halfway.” “Not complaining, Eyes,” he said through gritted teeth. “My side feels like hay fries here.” “Do you mean how it would feel to be hay fries or Tartarus take us!” She’d glanced down and seen a swarm of changelings moving at street level, right where everyone hadn’t been looking for too long, right under the bunched up front ranks, taking up position, horns up and glowing… *** And in Watcher Three, they’d seen it too. And the word had gone to the Necessary Force, who adjusted position and passed the word to air-to-ground Cannon Diner, and semaphore went out and down the lines as flag-ponies gave the signal to ‘veer left’… *** And there was another roar of thunder and the changelings behind her exploded, and so did the pavement, and so did the walls of the nearest right-side buildings. The changelings were fleeing every which way and ponies are flying down to harry them, but Diamond Eyes carried on with escort duty and hoped really hard that the ringing in her ears was going to stop. “If the changelings don’t surrender after all this, Chrysalis is an utter quim!” *** They’d have cannons when this was over, Strect promised himself that, and when they made their inevitable attack on Cloudsdale he’d plead for Queen Chrysalis to let him fire the first shell right into the most crowded street. Hundreds of changelings were dead but he’d been paying attention to how the ponies were doing it. A few more seconds and it was all going to change for them… *** “Everything’s turning back here,” reported Bead Eye. “Changelings are regrouping at, what is that building, it’s got minarets in the shape of the bit symbol—“ “That’s the Royal Mint, you git, where’d you go to school?” said Bluster, tapping out the report as he spoke. “Gilly, anything?” “I can see Breakout Candle is—hey, hey!” The second spy-pony pulled back from her telescope in disgust; a Dragoon had just flown up in front of the telescope. “Get out of the way! I can’t spot changelings with your fat plot in the way!” The Dragoon smiled. “About that.” And then changed back to changeling form. Bluster had time to tap out S-O. *** “Sir, we’ve got infiltrators – C Company is moving.” “Good.” Geldmore had known infiltrators would get through. C Company had been tasked to stay behind the frontline, patrolling for any changeling that got through – anyone caught was to be taken alive if possible for interrogation. Two could play at being underhanded— “Watcher Three’s down!” “Watcher One came under attack but is being defended by—“ “Watcher Two’s reporting – no, lost! Damn it!” He cut through the chatter: “Order Watcher One to withdraw. Watcher Four is to maintain position over Central Station.” Which meant a 50-50 chance of being killed but they needed the station watched. (Could the Last Argument act as replacement watcher? No, that would leave them with a vulnerable spot…) “Tell Cloudsdale we need replacements sent.” That would take time, twenty minutes at best. Until that time, he wouldn’t have real-time oversight of the battlefield and the ability to respond in seconds to any development – a cornerstone of Self-Defence Force capability and strategy, one of the key advantages they’d had over the changelings. Now both armies would take as long to respond and they had the greater numbers. “Tell Cloudsdale we’ll need more medics and supplies as soon as they can.” *** And in the south of Canterlot, in the ignored and silent sewage works, a few dozen soldiers were emerging from the pipes and taking a few hallowed gasps of fresh air. “So far, so good,” said Filthy Rich. Now for the hard part. -- I again implore you, we are not yet past the brink; there can still be dialogue and peace between our peoples. In peace, children bury their parents but in war, parents bury their children. We both claim to be enlightened rulers and as such, we have the responsibility to not cause such atrocity if we can avoid it. I also must make it clear: I am thinking of griffin parents as well. I implore you to do the same. - Excerpt from Celestia’s final letter to King Gareth VI before the start of the Great War Tell them not to worry, I’m practically a non-combatant in this thing. I basically get paid to stare at people. - Excerpt from Bead Eye’s final letter to sibling before the start of Operation Celestia Endures