//------------------------------//
// 11 - Darkest Hour 
// Story: Solar Sails: Marooned In Equestria 
// by Bluecho 
//------------------------------//

Ch. 11 - Darkest Hour




“This is Theta Team to field command. We have the last of the rebels. Glencost is secure. Over.”

Captain Zandir waited for a few moments, answering positively to orders received. Finally, he said, “Understood. Will return when finished. Over and out.” He replaced the receiver in its slot. “At ease, soldier,” he said to the man carrying the portable radio backpack. The poor soul nodded and removed the heavy pack happily.

Corporal Sarin Miles milled about, watching her Captain get off the radio. She stood at attention when his eyes rolled over her.

“Miles,” the Captain said.

“Yes sir?” Sarin said, nervously saluting out of habit. She'd marched with the Captain the entire day, so formalities were hardly necessary. Sarin didn't agree.

“Go get the other Gs, will you?” he said, smiling. His skin was a light shade of brown, almost tan. He wore round glasses, and his jet black hair was long and bound into a single braid that hung down his back. Many infantrymen had scoffed at the obvious weakness he allowed with the hair arrangement, a convenient place where an enemy could grab and pull. Many were then challenged by the Captain himself to test the theory, resulting in more than a few men beaten and bruised, no closer to seizing Captain Zandir's ebony locks.

“Yes sir!” Sarin replied, marching off. It took her four or five minutes to navigate the throng of men and find her fellow G7s and the lone G5, three men in all. She brought them all to their Captain. “All present and accounted for, sir!”

“Good,” said Zandir, letting the four modified soldiers line up. “With our victory here, the Glencost system has been entirely freed from rebel control.”

The other Gs in the company smiled and laughed, as did the various normal soldiers at attention.

“Now all that's left is to deal with the captured,” he continued once the cheers had died down. “Are they all tied up?”

“Sir yes sir,” said the G5, an older grizzled individual, easily the senior of everyone else present, including likely the Captain. Sarin found him an odd addition, the G5 series having been an attempt to start delving into genetic modification, to limited success. Sarin never even knew what it was this G5 was supposed to be good at, though she noted he seemed to have a greater sense of the battlefield around him. Enhanced awareness of some kind? Maybe that's why he lasted so long. “All surrendered rebels and civilians bound and accounted for, sir.”

“Very good,” Captain Zandir said. He motioned a grunt forward, who carried a box forward. Zandir opened it, revealing four sets of fully charged light pistols. “Command doesn't really feel like dealing with all these guys, so take a pistol and start shooting. One MS per room over there.” He wore a casual smile.

...wait what, Sarin thought. She blinked several times, looking around.

The other Gs looked hesitant at first, but one by one stepped forward to arm themselves with the light pistols.

Sarin didn't move. “Um Captain?”

“Yes Corporal Miles?” said the Captain, seeming troubled at his subordinate's lack of motion.

“I require clarification,” Sarin said, remembering protocol. “You want...you want us...to execute th-the prisoners?” A knot was forming in her stomach. She can't have heard that correctly.

“Summarily, yes” said Zandir. She had heard that correctly. “With the gun.”

The knot in her stomach grew tighter. Blood ran from the surface of her skin. Sarin fidgeted in place, saying, “But...b-b-but Captain! Th-they are civilians! We c-can't just kill them!”

The Captain paused for a moment, then his face turned very grave. His eyes stared past the frames of his glasses and into Sarin's soul. “Is that doubt I hear?”

“What?”

“Corporal, are you expressing doubt about orders from your commanding officer? From the higher ups?”

“W-wha- No! I'm not doubting you or command, sir,” Sarin protested. Beads of sweat trailed down her brow. “I just think...”

“No,” said Captain Zandir firmly, causing Sarin's heart to jump. “That most certainly is doubt I'm hearing. In accordance with Thomas Protocol, you now have your first strike, Corporal.” He motioned to the light pistol with his hand. “Take the light pistol and follow your orders, lest you incur another.”

Sarin seized in place. Thomas Protocol. Strike one. How did it come to this? Why am I being punished for...?

She racked her brain. Thomas Protocol: soldiers voicing doubt of their commanding officers is counterproductive. If any soldier voices such doubts, they receive a strike. Three strikes, and they receive punishment. Punishments under Thomas Protocol range from a simple harsh reprimand to being openly flogged. The count would then reset to zero. Some soldiers – like the late Private Beggy – simply couldn't keep their mouths shut. For them, the harsher punishments were usually employed.

Sarin had just received her first strike. Her first ever.

“Hop to it, Miles,” ordered Zandir. “Or I'll have to assume you aren't simply doubtful, but are openly defying orders. That would be insubordination. Do you want that?”

“No, sir!” Sarin screamed, clutching the spear she held. Slowly, she walked over and picked up the light pistol. The metal felt heavy in her hand. It shook...no, that was her hands.

“Now get it done,” said Captain Zandir, pointing to the only room with the captured rebels that hadn't been entered by another MS.

Sick to her stomach, sweating bullets, Sarin Miles willed her feet to move her into the other room. She saw soldiers standing at the corners of the room, looking at the center. There in the middle were seven kneeling figures. Two men, three women, one child. And one...Sarin couldn't see from that angle.

Slowly, she walked up to the first penitent figure. He was a bedraggled young man, his left ear clipped at the tip by a blade of some sort. A trail of blood led from the wound down to past his neck. It was dried. He looked up to meet Sarin's eyes, confused. He looked down to the light pistol in her hand, and his eyes grew wide. They went from the pistol to Sarin's eyes and back several times.

Sarin raised the gun, pointing it upwards. She swallowed hard, face drenched with sweat. Finally she said, “For c-crimes against the Empire...” She gasped, then choked. “...you are all to be summarily executed.” She moved the pistol down and placed the business end to the rebel's forehead.

She froze. Muscles refused to move any further than where she was. It wouldn't be Sarin's first kill. Those had been on her first mission. Had to defend an imperial VIP and his convoy through a city. They'd been attacked. Sarin had to defend herself and her charge. In the end, she'd killed. But she knew – her fellow soldiers assured her of it – that she was completely justified. They were the enemy, had to die. They attacked her, she had to retaliate. And she'd accepted it as part of being a soldier. By the time she got to Glencost, she'd stopped feeling guilty about it. Mostly.

She was about to kill again, but under completely changed circumstances. Was this man rebel scum as the officers liked to put it? Certainly. Were they required to fight them? Yes. But was it right to kill a man who surrendered? Just like that?

The frozen execution continued thus stalled for thirty seconds before Sarin began to hear the sound of pistols firing in the other rooms. The kneeling figures all flinched, one woman even shrieking before realizing it hadn't been Sarin.

Sitting with a pistol to his head, the man in front of her looked tormented. Fear like Sarin had never seen. And she was prolonging it by waiting. It was less execution and more torture. Yet she couldn't pull the trigger. Sarin's hand shook violently.

“Do it.”

Sarin looked behind her. The Captain stood at the doorway. She whimpered.

“Do it, Corporal,” he said absolutely. “Do it, that's an order.”

The man in front of her shook his head violently, a pained expression on his face. He was too paralyzed by fear to utter a word.

“Do it now Corporal!”

Sarin looked her victim in the eyes, their gaze quivering. She dropped her spear to steady her aim.

“...please...” the rebel said weakly.

“DO IT!” the Captain Bellowed.

And she did. The image of it was carved into her memory. She felt like some parts of where she was didn't look right. The entire scene has seemed...off. Here she couldn't be more certain of whose face she saw when she fired. Whose life she extinguished. Her hands forced back with the power of the shot, she saw the mighty spray of blood.  Felt as a few drops landed on her face.

Before she could become violently ill, before the echos of the shot could die, Sarin heard one of the women scream.

There were six more to go.

They went faster at least. The second man, a bald rebel with pierced earrings, spat at Sarin when she walked up to him. “See you in hell, Empire bitch,” he muttered, then shut his eyes. She fired. Another pained scream.

The first woman was next, an older woman with a shawl. She kept muttering the prayer she'd started when Sarin walked up. Perhaps sensing the soldier's presence, the woman picked up the pace, slipping in names that Sarin could only guess were either for her family, or for the ones that would go after her. Sarin didn't know what the woman was saying, too quick to hear, and never would get the courage to look it up.

Fire. Another scream.

Thankful in a perverse way, the screaming woman was next. She cried. A lot. Sarin was starting to get into a groove, and hesitated only a little bit.

“Monster!” the woman cried. “Murderer!”

Fire. Sarin felt guilty over how much relief she took from the silence.

Last woman was also dressed as a rebel, which is to say barely different from the civilians at all. She stared stone still, stone quiet, as Sarin raised the gun. Sarin couldn't tell if she was that ready to die, or if she'd stopped caring.

Fire. Sarin realized her hands stopped shaking.

Only to shake up again with the child. He looked shell shocked, which was a blessing she supposed. Probably barely knew what was going on. Still, the look he gave the modified soldier was innocent. Glass eyed but innocent.

And then he spoke. “It's okay. The war will be over soon...dad said so...”

Fire. Sarin's lip bled, she bit into it so hard. She staggered back and threw up.

“Very good, Corporal,” said Captain Zandir, smiling faintly. “I'll see you're promoted for this, Miles.” A soldier stood behind him, covering her mouth with her hooves. The blue skinned soldier had the look of abject horror...and extreme sadness. Twin trails of tears running down her face.

Sarin noticed that thick lines of tears were running down her face too. She wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground and let every tear out.

“But...you missed one,” said Zandir, pointing behind Sarin.

Missed one? But that's not right. The kid was the last. She was sure of it.

She shuffled over, and saw her last charge. It was the Leucrota.

It looked up at her, its badger's head slick with rain. Sarin realized it had started to rain inside the bunker. The beast's wide mouth was turned down, frowning. It sat on its haunches, waiting for death.

Sarin pulled the pistol up to shoot it.

“It's all your fault!” the Leucrota yelled, its voice that of the child. The one the creature no doubt stole the voice from.

Sarin tried to fire. And nothing came out. Her pistol had only six shots. She turned around to look her commanding officer in the eyes. “Captain...I'm out...”

“That you are,” Zandir said smiling as ever. “But don't worry. I was mistaken.” He pointed at the figure again. “You already killed him. Good job.”

Sarin looked down and saw the Leucrota, soaked in rain, with blood pouring out of his neck. “...no...” he gurgled, the guttural utterance of its true voice.

Sarin heard the sad flutter of wings behind her. Sarin screamed.



She choked on the scream as she woke, a piece of chain planted firmly in her mouth. She spat it out and flailed on the floor until she settled. Her breathing was hurried and frantic. Hyperventilation. Eventually it slowed, and she sat up. From the light in the window, it was still the dead of night.

All my fault. All my fault. All my fault.

Sarin allowed herself to fall over. Nervously, painfully, she tucked her knees in and buried her face into them. Shivering, she began to cry. All the tears she'd held back over the weeks came flooding out. Letting herself act regardless of who could hear, she sobbed. She wailed. Thankfully, no one decided to interrupt by checking.

Sarin Miles cried for hours. She didn't sleep a wink the rest of the night.



Rays of weak sunlight hit her back when Sarin's door received a knock.

“You are being summoned,” said the voice through the hatch.

Sarin Miles continued to lie, tucked in her little ball of sadness. After a few seconds, ascertaining the time by the light, she decided to respond. “...too...early...for summons...” she croaked, wiping her nose and puffy eyes on her knees.

“Too bad, you're still summoned,” said the guard. He shut the hatch and opened the door. When Sarin didn't rise, he spoke again. “Come on, get up.”

“No,” she croaked. If I'm a crybaby, then I'll act like one.

“You have to go, the princess is waiting.”

“Make me.”

So he did. The guard grabbed the chains that bound Sarin and started dragging her across the floor. She felt them stop, and then another guard hauled her bodily onto the two stallion backs. They carried her the rest of the way.



The room was considerably darker than before, the sun only then beginning to peak over the horizon. Only one guard was present. A Lunar guard. As Sarin took notice of the different uniform, the other guards dropped her into her seat. She was about to slam her head onto the table and remain there indefinitely when the other door shot open.

It was the pony from her dreams.

For the first time since waking up, Sarin cared what was going on. “...you...” she said weakly. “...you're the...you were...in my dreams...”

The regal alicorn did not raise her head, no matter how she twitched her head as if to desire it. “We are. We art the diarch of the night, Princess Luna. We art the one who watched thee in thy slumber, Sarin Miles.” Her wings flared, starry mane flowing of its own accord. She also looked extremely sad.

“...how...dare you...”

“Beg thy pardon?” said Luna, though she stood firm. In truth she already knew exactly what was coming. Ponies were very predictable. Fatae it would seem were no less predictable.

“How dare you!” Sarin screamed, her voice hoarse. So hoarse in fact that the strain of shouting set her into a fit of coughs.

Luna levitated a glass of water from a tray another servant carried. She set it down in from the of the wheezing Sarin, setting a straw inside.

Not too petty to begrudge the offer, Sarin sucked water greedily. Her coughs dying down, she sat back in her chair. “...how...dare you,” she said, her voice breathy. “How dare you come into my head? Invade...my dreams?” But Sarin's will already faltered as she fought to keep berating. Fought to stay angry. She sagged. “How dare you come and see me...at my absolute worst?” She clasped her eyes shut, letting loose another fit of coughs.

There's nothing left, she thought dejectedly. Despair began building in her, a few tears she didn't know she still had forming at the edges of her eyes. These damned ponies can invade our dreams. Our minds aren't even safe. Nothing I do can protect the Empire from them. Protect what I know. My failure is truly complete.

“Indeed, as princess of night, all who sleep beneath my moon are subject to my jurisdiction. However...” Princess Luna took the seat formerly occupied by Celestia. Her hard, regal demeanor fell apart, leaving only a sad, sympathetic frown. “...thou art not wrong, Sarin Miles,” she said. Sarin opened an eye to look at the princess as she spoke. “What we...what I have done to thee is terrible. To encroach upon so personal a space as the slumbering mind is an awful, awful thing, though it is my domain. But I did it anyway. Do you know why?”

Sarin barely had the strength to muster an answer. “Because I'm a threat to Equestria?”

“No, it is not for that,” responded Luna. “Until this past night, I never told my sister Celestia that I spied upon you.”

At last Sarin pushed herself up to a higher sitting position. “What?”

Luna smiled a bit. “Didst thou suppose we fed our sister knowledge locked in thy dreams to aid her interrogation?” The night princess looked away whimsically. “Our sister is silly at times, and is indeed sometimes caught unawares. But she isn't stupid. She told thee only what she figured out herself.”

“...until last night...” said Sarin, sagging again. She grew nervous. Pained by the knowledge of what was lain bare.

“Indeed,” said Luna. “When thy...greatest tragedy played out before us, we knew we could no longer wait and watch. It was truly a...terrible event in your past.”

Sarin sniffed. “So...are you going to kill me now?” Her voice remained hoarse and weak. It was a painful statement. Yet a deep part of Sarin, one that new her greatest sins and had no illusions about them, was hopeful. A part of her welcomed death.

“Nay,” was the answer that came from the princess. An answer that sent Sarin tumbling out of her chair. Luna continued as she used her magic to levitate the girl back. “We have no desire to punish thee for thy acts in the system of Glencost. You acted under orders. Cruel, vile orders. Doing so haunts thee to this day.”

To Sarin's surprise, Luna stood up and waved the assembled guards away. The solar guard seemed hesitant, but the lunar guardspony left without a second thought. The modified soldier looked after them as they left the room, leaving the princess and the prisoner alone together.

What surprised Sarin more was when Princess Luna walked over to Sarin and embraced her.

“What? What are you doing?” she said, weakly.

“Thou art plagued by demons from the past, Sarin Miles,” said Luna, her forelimbs wrapped around the bound soldier. “Memories of the blood staining thee. The blood of innocents. Thou canst escape the memories, and they've writhed in thy heart like open wounds. It is a terrible burden you carry, soldier. I know this burden, this feeling well.”

Sarin's mouth was left agape. “...how could you possibly...?”

“We were at one time a terrible Queen,” explained Luna solumnly. “Nightmare Moon. A thousand years ago we committed terrible acts, the crown jewel being our attempts to plunge Equestria into eternal night. We were locked away until such time as we could be redeemed. Ever since, we...I carry the guilt of my crimes.” Luna brushed a hoof over Sarin's off-white hair. “So when we say we know thy pain, we speak from experience.”

Sarin was very still. She allowed her shallow, ragged breaths to sync with the silent princess'. Finally, she said, “So what are you going to do with me? What will you and your sister do to a person like me?”

“...the same thing Celestia did to me,” Luna said. “Forgive the foolish, penitent girl.”

“...she would do that? For me?” said Sarin, her eyes grown wide is disbelief.

“We know our sister, Sarin Miles,” said Luna kindly. “By the time we finished explaining thy plight, we're sure she already had.” Luna allowed the effect to sink in as she felt the Fatae shudder in her embrace. “The rest, as they say, is up to whether thou can forgive thyself.”

“...if your sister does as you say,” Sarin began, tears beginning to pour down again, “then she's just as warm and good as she always seemed. And I'm a fool for doubting that sincerity.” The Sergeant pressed herself deeper into Luna's hug. “But I just can't. I can't forgive myself. I'm weak. I'm stupid and forgetful. I make too many mistakes. I'm a freak. I can't be depended on.” She rattled off her worst traits as more and more bitter tears fell. “I have no friends, because no one wants me. I'm useless. And I wish I was never born. I...”

Luna's great wings folded over the pair, Luna shushing the babbling Fatae. “Thou art not useless, Sarin Miles. Thou art not weak. It takes great strength and great bravery to push through the trials that meet you. Thou make mistakes because no one is perfect. Thou art not stupid, for you seek and learn what you do not know. Thou art not a freak, for no living being is the mirror image of another. Thou art brave, inquisitive, bold, loyal...” Luna broke off her hug to look Sarin in the eyes. “Thou art a sensitive, gentle soul who fights on in spite of herself for what she believes is right. Thy only true sin...” She held up a hoof and wiped tears out from the soldier's soggy eyes. “...is that thou pledged thy loyalty to cruel masters.”

Sarin looked up and shook her head. “No you're wrong! They...”

“Masters who raise a child alone so that they may mold her into a loyal, unwavering killer,” Luna continued, stopping the well-meant defense of Sarin's commanders. “Masters who degrade thee, hate thee, send thee to commit despicable acts for their convenience, and then refuse thee the help thee needed.” Luna nuzzled Sarin's face – a most surreal sensation by Sarin's reckoning. “Do not defend them, because they are also the masters who left you alone in the wilderness.”

More tears fell out, rolling on her face. Sarin Miles allowed herself to settle back into the embrace.

Is it true? But how can I possibly reject the Empire? They made me, gave me strength, taught me everything I know. They gave me food, warmth, the clothes on my back. And they taught me a trade, one I was literally designed for. Lieutenant Jons was kind, and Major Minder only wanted what was best for me in the end. Even Zandir could have just been following orders, and pushing me to have the same mindset. And after everything, the military was my only family. Otherwise I was alone...

...or was that what they wanted?

A sudden, horrifying realization hit Sarin in the back of the head. She struggled against Luna's embrace, and the princess obliged. Sarin sat back in the chair, eyes wide and wet. Salty, and staring out in horror.

Why was I the only G7-H of my age? Sure the one I replaced had died, but couldn't they just create an entire second group? Or at the very least one more? Why only me? Why was there no one else I could relate to?

Why did the teachers and caregivers never intervene when I was bullied? Why did they never try to make the others stop, or reprimand them for turning on Fatae who would eventually be their allies? Why was I allowed to suffer the abuse? The alienation?

Was it because they wanted me to feel alone? Wanted me to have no one else to turn to?

...except them.

Sarin nearly fell over, but thankfully the princess extended a foreleg to steady her. The Fatae accepted the support gladly.

Why make me murder an entire group of prisoners? Waste of energy firing off shots into unarmed people. Why do it? And why make me do it? Is it because they wanted to harden me to the more unsavory aspects of military life? Or because they wanted me to commit acts so evil that I try to justify them later on? Make me more likely to be loyal because I feel I gave them everything...even my soul? That to retain some peace of mind, to prevent truly crippling cognitive dissonance, I'd make myself feel more favorably towards the Empire? That I'd fool myself into believing I liked it?

Her entire body was shaking. Her stomach churned, a terrible pain rising from beneath. Sarin distanced herself from Luna just in time to fall to the ground and begin puking. There was nothing to expel, so she dry heaved. The taste of bile coated her throat and mouth.

“Sarin!” Luna shouted, louder than she'd intended. The princess clapped a hoof over her mouth in response to the unintentional use of the Royal Canterlot Voice.

The Fatae coughed, ravaged throat burning. “...I'm...alright...” she croaked, hacking up bile.

Luna helped her up, cradling the Fatae in her arms. “Art thou certain, Sarin?” she said, supporting the bound girl's head. “We could get thee a doctor...we art not sure if a pony doctor could aid you, but...”

“No!” said Sarin, coughing up again. Finally her scratchy throat began to settle. “No, I just need a minute.”

As Luna continued to support her, Sarin continued thinking.

What about Lieutenant Jons? Did they assign him to lead me specifically because he's nice? Or is the niceness just an act, to make me like him? Did he play devil's advocate for me so that I'd remain loyal and productive? And when I crashed on the planet, was it him who ordered an early retreat?

Did he despise me? Was he looking for such an opportunity to ditch me? Or was that an order given by the higher ups? Did they think I was no longer worth anything?

Wait, no. Back up. Sarin shook her head. Assuming the crash was intentional implied the ability of command to set up a sonic rainboom months in advance by the time they arrived. As much as Sarin would like – or liked – to believe the Empire all powerful and far-reaching, she couldn't accept the crash as planned.

Need to stop, she thought. Can't get caught up in a conspiracy spiral.

She looked up at Luna. The princess held her gently, ever vigilant should Sarin begin convulsing again. Sarin spoke in a hoarse whisper, “Princess...”

“Yes, Sarin Miles,” said Luna, smiling in a concerned manner.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome, Sarin Miles,” cooed the princess. “...may I ask what specifically for?”

“...for showing me...” Sarin said, before letting out a cough. “...showing me how foolish I was...”