"I didn't know anyone practiced tankery as a subject..." Twilight mused, as they trotted down the path "Well, apart from the Japonese, of course..."
"It was first introduced to military schools after the Second Pan-Equine War." Gilda replied "Originally, it was just part of the soldiers' basic training, but as technology advanced, the training officers faced a... Unique problem..."
"Oh? What do you mean?" Spike asked.
"Basically, 'tankery', or the Art of Tank Warfare had became the most widespread illegal pastime activity among rookie soldiers and privates - heck, even certain high-ranking officers joined certain teams. The problem was, the tanks that these training schools had were growing obsolete, and while the War Commissariat intended to introduce the newer, more modern tanks to the troops, the training schools were basically passively rebelling, and keeping the older tanks as well..."
"...Wait, what?" Trixie blurted out "The training schools were rebelling?"
"It wasn't the first time..." Sunset explained "During the First Pan-Equine War, the soldiers of the Imperial Army also rebelled, and assisted the Pitrograd and Mosscow Revolutionary Councils in taking control of the country, bringing an end to the war for the Northern Region, which soon separated itself from the Equestrian Monarchy, and later became known as the Northern Council Union, which, in turn, soon transformed into the Union of Communalist Council Republics..."
"Of course, those were soldiers, trained and hardened by the horrors of the war..." Gilda continued "These were just rookies. However, with the threat of war growing faint and the ponies' trust in their Supreme Secretary incomparable to any other leader's popularity at the time, simply unmatched, mainly due to the victorious outcome of the war, the War Commissariat decided that, "due to the high popularity of previously leisurely practiced activity called "tankery", they are authorizing every and each educationaly institution of the military to practice this new, previously voluntary form of practice"." she paused, impressively "That's what the official document said, word for word. Basically, training soldiers to be able to use older tanks was practical in case of another war that would require all tanks available, and it's sport-like nature improved the moral of the soldiers."
"Give it two decades, and the first civilian schools start to use the now severely outdated vehicles, along with copies of the captured or traded ones." Sunset concluded "Tankery is mainly practiced among the ponies and other creatures of the Far East, since most of them are historically known warrior nations." she thought for a moment, shuddering "In fact, during their regional championship tournaments, they won't shy away from using live rounds, either."
"Actually, most countries do tournaments with live rounds..." the griffon mused.
"WHAT?!"
"Now don't get your saddles twisted into a knot!" Gilda huffed "While the tanks on the tournaments DO use live rounds, they're also much safer, much more modern rebuilds of the original vehicles that were in use during, and after the war. They all have an inner carbon plating, some have reactive armor, and all platoons that wish to participate are required to have an automatic sprinkler system installed in the engine casing, and ventilation for the crew's compartment, which enable both heating and cooling. Their guns, however, are mandated to be exactly the same as they were back in the bad ol' days."
"I see..." Sunset replied, after her mind registered all that she had heard. The griffon went from a passive-aggressive shut-in to rambling, extrovert scholar in a matter of seconds. Finally regaining her grips on the situation, the mare popped a question:
"What makes the Naysian tournaments so outlandish, then?"
The avian sighed.
"They use the original vehicles from back then, and their platoons are notorius for disobeying just about EVERY safety regulation, both regional and international. This placed the stakes especially high, since privately-owned platoons are now allowed to enter their tournaments. In most cases, those rogue teams are just in for the kill."
"Oh..." Trixie muttered "That's... Quite dark..."
"This isn't the case everywhere, though..."
"No?"
"The Hindian platoons have very high health and safety standards, the Japonese, of course, treat tankery like any other martial art - with grace and elegance, not to mention care to keep it safe from dishonor, and the Chainese just follow the international regulations diligently." the griffon elaborated, smiling "Subsequently, they have the best platoons in the Naysian region."
Crushing the wet snow beneath their hooves, they made their way across the empty fields, just outside of the city. Far behind the sprawling suburbs and the industrial complexes fencing the city were large, unused plots of land, mostly dominated by sparse groves of evergreens or odd groups deciduous trees, barren in this season, but such is the beauty of nature. Less natural were the skeletal rows of high-voltage electricity pylons, standing across the field in all their creepy, metallic wonder, with the almost inaudible hum of electricity surrounding them as an aura of mystery.
They were heading towards the mountains - another odd, but not illogical thing within the Union was that most larger cities had their near vicinity terraformed, usually building mountains to provide a natural border to the cities, both from possible enemies and strong wind currents. The semi-micro-climates of such cities allowed weather pegasi to practice their profession - such obligation was otherwise rare in the nature-dominated lands of the North.
The tanker barracks were on nearly on the other side of the city, however, getting trough Linegrad on hooves, on a holiday, or during holiday preparations, was an absolute nightmare... Getting around it, however...
"So, how far is it?" Spike asked, peaking past the griffon's head. All he could see is white,
"Just a couple more kilometers, unless it starts to snow."
"Why? What happens if it does?" the young drake asked.
"Well, if your friends weren't the ponies they were, they'd be screwed. We're so far out that by the time help would arrive in a snowstorm, they'd be frozen. Twice." the avian explained "But considering that one of them is a fire mage, the other deals with pyrotechnics and is an electro mage, and the third one is an experienced teleporter and light mage, I think they'll be fine."
Gilda looked down.
"Are they still under us?"
Spike glanced down as well.
"Uh, yeah. Think you could carry one of them?"
"One of them, easily. Two of them, maybe. But not three of them."
"That's bad, because they're visibly running low on patience."
"Who's bucking idea was this anyway?!"
"YOURS, SHIMMER!"
"Oh... Then why didn't you talked me out of it?!"
"YOU TRY TO TALK YOURSELF OUT OF SOMETHING! LET'S SEE HOW WELL THAT'LL GO!"
The hangars were just what the name implies: hangars. Seated at the bottom of the hill, with a nice, smooth incline leading up to them, and the small "rally" area before them, the barn-like buildings were once part of a larger mining and smelting compound, until the magically raised hills ran out of metal to smelt, and the compound was deemed redundant. They knocked down most of the buildings, apart from the smelting sheds and assembly hall (now serving as the repair station and the mess hall for the small canteen found here), the service barracks (once used to house heavy machinery for the surface quarries, now housing heavy machines for sporting purposes), and the tall redbrick chimney of the smelting shed (for aesthetic reasons - after they removed the furnace, they set up a small chapel in there).
The barracks were laid down along the very edge of the gentle incline - behind them was a cliff wall, providing a natural blockade against avalanches. Each remise had seven parking slots, and they were placed diagonally next to each other, corner touching corner.
There were seven barracks in total, the one furthest away from the repair station was closed. The rest were all open (well, most slot doors were), and they could see ponies working on some of the tanks.
Landing in the snow beside the large entrance of the former smelting shed, Gilda took a glance at the three frostbitten unicorns. They just stared back at her, glumly.
"Don't be such softies!" she muttered, trying to stealthily hide her hind legs, as she raised one to get her sensitive paws out of the snow "Go to the mess hall, you can warm up, here!"
Letting Spike off her back, she called out to them once more:
"If the guys in the canteen ask, just tell them that you're with me!" she said "I'll have to check on something!"
"This is good coco..." Spike muttered, taking another sip. They were in the canteen - once the only buffet the compound had to offer, it still retained the same furniture: broad planks at the walls as eating counters, iron framed particle board tables, plastichairs, greasy oilcloth tablecloths, half empty salt cellars and completely empty pepper boxes. The canteen served ready-made food, and all flavoring and seasoning was available at the counter - the salt and pepper were just decorations.
"Yes, this is great coco..." Trixie replied, eagerly gulping it down "I'm surprised they have such a canteen in such a Harmonia-forsaken place."
"Ve'r just autside de city." one of the workponies replied in an irritated manner, before chugging down a root beer.
"I wonder what Gilda needed to attend to..." Twilight pondered.
"Presumably her own tank..." Sunset growled in respone. She was bored. Also, she wanted to see the tanks... That was the main reason they came here.
"You know what?" the azure mare asked, standing up "Let's search for her. There aren't many places she could've gone off to."
Turning to the guests of the buffet, she called out:
"Does anyone know which barrack does Gilda reside in?"
There was a long silence...
The gruff colts within the small bar eyed them intensively, in a most scrutinizing way, as if considering whether or not the visitors were worthy of the knowledge. Finally, the barkeep replied out:
"B-3, closer to the shed. She had taken out the entire remise for her platoon."
"What? All seven slots?" Sunset blurted out.
The barkeep shrugged his withers.
"Griffons are territorial..."
***
"So, this is your platoon?"
"Yes. It's not much, as we can only have 7 vehicles, but it sure packs a punch on it's own level."
"I'd say." Sunset replied, speaking with expertise. Gilda's platoon had very basic set-up, colloquially known as a Form-A, or F.A.: two light tanks, two mediums, two heavies, and a tank destroyer. A Form-B had an extra tank destroyer or a self-propelled assault gun at the expense of a heavy tank, and Form-C had an artillery piece at the expense of a light tank. A Form-D had no heavy tanks, but two mediums, two lights, and three tankettes. There was also a Form-0, also known as a "Basic form", composed of two heavies, two or three mediums, and, according to that, two or three lights. No tank destroyers, no assault guns, no artillery, no tankettes. But Form-0s were only used during tournaments, where schools could dispatch multiple, cooperating platoons. For historical re-enactments, there also existed a Form-E and F, one being entirely composed of medium tanks, the other composed of five tank destroyers and two artillery pieces.
This platoon had two light tanks: a 70-T class recon tank, the fan favorite, rare and renowned 50-2-T tank, mandatory 34-T and 34-85-T medium brawler tanks, a VK-22.0 heavy battle tank, equipped with 11-U howitzer from the VK-1 and VK-2, though not native on this vehicle. A Panther Tank Hunter, the only foreign piece in the entire platoon, though, painted in the standard winter camo of the Union's vehicles.
The most outstanding vehicle, however, left the three mares and the young drake with jaws hanging low, and eyes bugged out. Before them stood a MASSIVE heavy tank, from the VK line of vehicles - the legendary VK-V. Numbered with ancient griffin numbers as any other experimental tank, this monolithic hundred-ton beast. And while it was not without it's weak spots, this particular model seemed to surpass even it's historical, planned origin. The two frontal machine gun turrets - major weak spots located right in front of the tank's heavily armored, enormous turret, have been removed. Replacing them - and thus, reshaping the front - was a thick, curving piece of armor, with a tiny peering slot for the driver, coated with reinforced, vapor-resistant glass, and an equally minimal machine gun slot. Not even a turret, just a small slot to poke out the barrel of a Dugtearyov light machine gun. The curving, well-sloped armor formed a low collar around the huge turret, neatly covering up the bottom of the gun mantle. The lack of the two machine gun towers also meant that the turret could be slightly enlarged, which was necessary, as the tank's main gun has been swapped with another. Instead of the rather underwhelming 107 millimeter M6.ZiS gun, it was now equipped with an elongated, slightly more funnel-shaped 152 millimeter 10-M howitzer, nearly as long as the ZiS was. The commander's cupola has been lowered, and rear of the tank now possessed an additional roof armoring. The suspension seemed to be slightly reworked as well, although the extension of any interior modifications could only be observed from service, it seemed.
"Cool, isn't it?"
They quickly shut their mouths as they heard the griffon's voice... And how radically different it was.
Now with a purring, sensual, almost slick tone, the griffon came sharply around from the other side of the tank, rubbing her own side to it's tracks, much like how a cat rubs itself to people it likes.
"The VK-V mod, as we've come to call it." a workcolt, with barely noticeable local accent, spoke up "Equipped with an automatic loader, it only requires a gunner, and the 10-M's reload time has been halved, not to mention it's improved accuracy, thanks to the longer barrel."
"It's Gilda's pride and joy." said a new voice "She would sleep with it, if it wouldn't be so large and pointy."
"Oh, shut up, Dust!" said a slightly enamored-sounding Gilda" rebuttled, laying sprawled across the top of the turret.
"Dust?" the mares asked, turning towards the source of the voice. At the rear of the tank stood a turquoise green pegasus with an amber crest and tail, the latter left long and fuzzy, the former cut into something resembling a mohawk. Her cutie mark - a crackling lightning bolt with stardust surrounding it - barely peaked out of the oil-soaked green overalls. Having just finished cleaning a wrench, she placed the tool back onto the table beside her. Amber eyes, bold and daring, gazed at the four newcomers.
"The name's Lightning Dust." she said, smirking "Ace mechanic and Number One Scout in the whole of Equestria, the Union included."
There was a short pause.
"A bald statement." Sunset replied, a hint of expertise in her voice, as she eyed up the pony "I assume you're the driver of the 70-T..."
"Indeed I am." Lightning replied, her cocking grin growing just a little bit softer "Need help?"
"Nah, we're fine..." the fiery mare answered, gazing around lazily "Just visiting."
Her eyes stopped at the drop of a bit, glancing a sideway glance at the pegasus "We'd like to battle."
"WHAT?!"
"First round: you guys remain stationary. Only your turrets can turn. Which means the Panther doesn't play. We play with ONE tank from your platoon. If you render the tank immobile on the first round, you win. If we shoot down all but one of you, the last one remaining will have to fight with us, one-on-one."
Lightning's smile disappeared. A scowl as cold as ice replaced it.
Thunder could be heard from outside. The whiteness of the blizzard turned even whiter for a moment.
The wind has picked up.
There was a moment.
Unexplainable for anyone who doesn't seen artisanship and art in a warrior's moves.
It didn't linger long enough for anyone to comprehend.
Apart from Twilight...
Trixie...
Spike...
Gilda...
"Alright." Lightning whispered, the wind rattling the windows as she spoke "Chose your vehicle."
Sunset slowly moved her gaze away from her.
At first, her glance fell on the 34 and the 34-58. She quickly dismissed them with a small shake of her head. As her gaze fell on the 50-2-T, she could feel the crew tense up around her, so she turned away from it with a wry smile. She didn't even bothered to glance at the VK-22.0...
Instead, she turned her attention to the VK-V. On top of the turret, Gilda's feathers and fur stood on edge, as she subconsciously gripped the edges of her resting place.
After a long pause, Sunset tore her eyes away from her. Slowly, her eyes wandered across the room, finally landing on the last candidate.
Her eyes met with Lightning's again. The pegasus's glare turned into a glower, and her eyes seemed to be glowing by this point. Sunset's own eyes seemed to flicker with fire, as she allowed a positively wicked grin to spread on her face...
She uttered those faithful words...
"I'll take yours..."