The Chronicles of Swarm: The Equestrian Front

by kildeez

Chapter XLVI: Human Wars

“Alright!” Vance screamed as he pulled himself free of the wreckage of the Bradley APC. “Whoever ain’t dead, sound off!”

“Lieutenant Miller reporting, sir,” the Lieutenant said as he pulled himself to his feet, using his rifle to support his body weight. “Because you’re being here means either I’m alive, or I wasn’t nearly as good as I shoulda been.”

“Charming as always, Miller,” Vance grinned as he was helped to his feet. The grin was short-lived as he took a quick look at his surroundings. The Bradley he’d been sheltering behind was now up to its turrets in mud. It’d take an army of men a day and a half to pull it free, and that’s if it was even still operational. It had fared better than most of their other vehicles, though: around him, the overturned and shattered remnants of Humvees lay broken in the mud. His soldiers still lay scattered in the muck. Most of them still looking combat-ready, but some looked like they’d taken more than a few hits when the ground had caved-in beneath them. He wondered if maybe he’d taken a bigger beating than he thought.

“Christ alive, Captain, you’v got a real nice shiner there!” Miller pointed out.

“Hmm? Oh, damn, thanks,” Vance sighed, touching the new sensitive spot on his face. Yep, that was gonna need ice. Too bad their nearest refrigeration units were in the vehicles…

A thousand screams filled the air: not of fear, but of war. He gazed up at the edge of the pit. It sounded like two full-strength battalions up there, almost certainly waiting to burst from the foliage, flood across the field, and descend upon him and his men, and down here, it’d be like shooting ducks in a barrel for them. “Hold strong, people!” He screamed, picking his rifle out of the mud and trying to unjam the dirt from the firing mechanism as best as he could. “We may be at the bottom of a piss-poor excuse for a shithole in the ground, but this is OUR piss-poor excuse for a shithole in the ground! They ain’t gonna take one damn inch of it, y’hear!?”

“Hoo-rah! Hoo-yah!” The soldiers around him screamed, though with a bit less enthusiasm than before. Vance didn’t blame them. The enemy would soon have the high ground along with their advantage of numbers and vehicle support. Though the artillery had gone silent, the situation was still terribly grim. He sighed as he knelt behind the partially-submerged turret of the Bradley, Miller sliding in beside him.

“Situation’s pretty FUBAR, sir,” the SEAL said grimly.

“FUBAR?”

“Yeah, I figured since we’re fightin’ Nazis, might as well start using some of the old lingo,” Miller shrugged and tried to grin. Vance just smiled lightly and shook his head. The battle cries above them grew louder and louder, the sound of hundreds of combat boots stamping over the moist grass joining them. The pair focused their rifles on the top of the ridge, ready to go down swinging. Around them, their men tried to follow suit, ducking behind overturned Humvees, dirt mounds, or whatever cover they could find in hopes of surviving just a few minutes of the impending onslaught. The enemy might take Coltton, but the Americans sure as hell weren’t going to make it easy for them.

A few loud cracks interrupted Vance’s thoughts. “The hell is goin’ on up there? Who’re they shootin’ at?” Miller asked.

Vance could only shrug. A few seconds later, the Princesses swooped down into their trench, alighting gracefully on the ground nearest them. “Princesses!” The commanders gasped, standing at full attention and saluting.

“At ease!” Celestia barked, her words bombarding them like a hurricane: “Vance, my sister and I will provide cover via magical shielding, but we’re not sure how long we can last against these guys!”

As soon as she spoke, the Princesses’ horns glowed, creating a shimmering, chest-high, purple shield between the humans and the top of the ridge in one long line. Reacting immediately, most of the Americans ran up to it and slid into place, ducking down behind its protection. “You and your men must be at the top of that ridge before our magic gives out, understood!?” Luna screamed.

“Yes, ma’am!” Vance and Miller shouted in unison.

“Alright, boys! You heard the princess!” Vance screamed. “Get your asses on that shield and start pushing, and don’t you dare stop until we’ve taken that damn ridge!”

“HOO-RAH! HOO-YAH!” The men shouted back, this time with all the fervor and passion from before. Vance grinned and ran up to join his men on the shield.

“I’ll be damned,” Miller said. “We might just make it through this day yet!”

“For fuck’s sake, you had t’jinx it, didntcha?” Vance said with a grin.

“Not as bad as you did, Mister ’Too Quiet’.”

“Oh God, here they come!” A SEAL off to their left screamed, the sound of boot steps practically on top of them.

“Hold your positions!” Vance said. “Hold your positions, then advance!”

The air filled with the roars of the enemy as they gleefully descended upon the trench, believing they were about to catch a bunch of defenseless Americans with their guards down. What they found instead was a well-formed, perfectly held battle-line, with nearly five-hundred men waiting behind a strange, purple shimmer. The first wave of enemy to bound over the ridge were sliced to ribbons, the Americans simply leaning over the shield to take potshots at them. “ADVANCE! ADVANCE!” Vance screamed, and the entire shield was scraped forward through the mud, keeping the men covered even as the enemy threw themselves bodily against it.

A cry of pain behind him distracted the aging Marine for a quick second. He turned to see the Princesses on their knees, straining to maintain the shields. “Shit,” he muttered, trying to back away from the shield, only to be beaten back by a sudden hail of tracer fire. “SHIT!”

“Keep pushing!” Celestia screeched, sweat pouring down her brow.

“Worry not about us, human! We’ve more than enough power for this task!” Luna said, though the strain in her voice said otherwise.

Spotting the lie in the Princesses’ voices, Vance would have loved to run down there and scream something about not allowing foreign leaders to sacrifice themselves for the sake of a few grunts, or something else terribly noble like that, but the sudden roar of automatic fire up ahead and the pair of Marines at his side dropping to the ground with bullets in their chests interrupted any hope he had of weaning something from the sisters. “Just…don’t kill yourselves over us!” He screamed over the din, turning to rejoin the fight.

“Sir, for fuck’s sake, keep your head down!” Miller screamed, shoving the aging Marine to the ground as another round of fire blazed off the shield.

“They’re tryin’ to kill me as much as any other man, why shouldn’t I fight t’stop ‘em!?”

“Because if we lose you, we lose the whole damn battle!” Vance replied, standing up to unleash a few more rounds with his M4. “Besides, somebody’s gotta direct these idiots into something of a decent fighting force!”

Vance looked around the small ditch where most of his men were still stuck: most were just hurriedly grabbing rifles or whatever was handy to join the fight as quick as possible, leaving behind grenades, heavy machine guns, and body armor to do it! “I see your point,” Vance said, taking the small lull between waves to bound down to the trench and bark orders. “You! Grab that M60 next to ya and get on the line! You! Help him! You! For fuck’s sake, don’t leave ‘nades behind! And you! Where the fuck do ya think you’re going without your helmet!? Don’t give me that shit about there not being any time! Do you wanna…”

Miller tuned his commander out to focus on the battle growing right in front of his face. The enemy had stopped rushing into the hole like a bunch of dumbasses and were already coordinating a line intent on holding the ridge. This was not gonna be easy. “Alright, men! Let’s take that fuckin’ ridge! FORWARD!”

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Back in the heart of the field, the battle between the brothers and their lost son had taken a few turns for the worst. Every attack they made, every strike attempted, Mars had a counter for. Chen would rocket up on Mars’s side, his blunt, spire-like arms moving faster than the eye, only to be blocked and countered by that wretched spike. Michael would back up and dive, trying to gain a bit of breathing room from the hand-cannon (he figured just calling it a pistol would be understating its power, “hand-cannon” seemed like a better fit) in Mars’s grip, but no matter how many ducks, dives, and lunges he attempted, he never seemed able to escape the wretched thing’s sights.

How is he so strong!? Chen’s voice asked in his head. He shouldn’t be able to take on two of us at the same time!

“Oh, don’t be so surprised, father!” Mars screamed. The brothers took pause. Mars had been able to eavesdrop on their psychic conversation! Absolutely nothing was supposed to be able to do that! The fallen son proudly held up the spike on his wrist. “After all, this is the same weapon that took on the Lord of Chaos and won with ease!”

Discord… Chen started, the distraction serving to open up the tiniest gap in his defenses. Before he knew what was happening, Mars had seized a leg and flipped him right over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground before twisting to level the hand-cannon right back on Michael.

“Yes daddy, Discord,” Mars said, circling the field like a vulture hovering over a scrap of meat. “Yet another little weakling crushed in the game of survival. Of course, you weren’t there: you were just a little too late. You had to hear about it from the pretty little princess, all covered in the poor widdle draconequus’s blood, didntcha?”

Chen kicked himself back to his “feet,” lashing out with renewed vigor. Michael’s visage darkened even further. It was an old trick, trying to rile them up to make their decisions more spur-of-the-moment, their moves easier to predict. Against an opponent like Mars, something like that could be fatal. Well, two could play that game: “Tough talk from a little brat that had to strike from behind, while the widdle draconequus sacrificed himself for someone else.”

Mars turned a hellish glare on his father. “Brat?” He spat, the fury of a thousand suns blazing in his eyes.

“Spoiled brat. One who had to crush one of the greatest instances of self-sacrifice he’d ever seen simply because deep down, he knew he could never measure up.” Michael smiled knowingly. “He knew he just didn’t have the stones to even come close to that kinda bravery.”

Howling with rage, Mars twisted, coming down like a sack of hammers on Chen, holding him in his grasp as he shoved off against the ground, rocketing up to Michael. The demigod only had time for a few shots from the M1911, but even his incredible, reality-altering bullets were like peas being shot into a tidal wave against his son’s sheer fury. In an instant, his throat joined Chen’s in Mars’ grip, the pair hoisted into the air and held up like a couple of raccoons caught by the exterminator. Then, they were slammed into the dirt with enough force to dig their own graves, blasting a pair of small craters into the ground. Mars held them there awhile; hands clenched tight, breaths coming heavy and ragged. And then, in an instant, the rage was gone, a steely, gray calm returning to his eyes.

“He died because he was weak,” he said plainly, emphasizing the ‘k’ in his speech. “Why can’t you see that? Yes, what I have done could be considered monstrous, but think of what it will accomplish! The lives I have taken will be used to fuel the greatest Empire creation has ever seen! We’re talking about throwing evolution forward a few thousand millennia! An Empire of the strong, ruled by a god! The greatest beings in all of reality, freed of their weaker brethren and bought together to create the ultimate race! The pinnacle of all species! What creation itself has been building up to for generations!”

You don’t know that’s what is supposed to happen, Chen screamed. You can’t possibly know that’s the final goal! We don’t even know what really created the universe, much less for what purpose!

“But just look around you!” He held the brothers up, spinning around as if to show them the world around them, or just the bodies of the fallen scattered throughout the battlefield. “Isn’t that how nature works? The strong live, the weak die. That’s it. That’s the very foundation of natural selection. Why wait for it all to catch up, though? We could see it for ourselves, carry it out and push it along, allow the universe to finally achieve its highest purpose! And we could be there! Standing right at the front, guiding it along! It’ll be so beautiful…”

Tears, real tears this time, entered Mars’s eyes. “Can’t you see it? How beautiful it will be? How incredible? And who knows what we’ll be able to do then! We could become gods! We could become one with the infinite! We could learn everything there is to know! We could reshape this reality as we see fit! Don’t you see?”

He was actually choked up as he asked: “Please tell me you see it? Please tell me I’m not the only one?”

The brothers glared back at him, pausing in their struggles to meet his eyes. “All we see here…”

…is a misguided child with a god complex. Chen’s leg lashed out, using its shimmering, silvery point to hook the pistol on Mars’ belt. The miniature cannon sailed into the air as he followed up with a kick to the ribs, distracting the evil demigod long enough for Michael to spring free, snatch the weapon out of mid-air, and plummet to the ground, blasting a few shots from the weapon. The fallen son was sent flying back by the explosion as his fathers landed deftly on the ground. In a second, Michael had ditched the little cannon and switched back to his beloved Peacemaker, running after Mars with it blazing while his brother sprang off the grass and bounded alongside him. The attack had thrown Mars off-guard, at least: they could tell in the sudden desperation his defense gained and the fury igniting on his face.

“Fine! If you won’t join me and see the universe to its final glory,” he screamed with rage. “Then I’ll just have to wipe you all from reality, starting here!”

Far greater things than you have tried, little one, Chen’s voice replied, a touch of sorrow edging into his tone as he prepared to plunge further into the battle. But once again, the spike held him at bay and Michael found himself in the sights of yet another sidearm produced from his fallen son's jacket. Once again, they were at a stand-still and worse yet, growing tired with each passing moment. The strain of keeping pace with Mars was becoming evident as their acrobatics slowed and their blows became fewer.

Mars saw the fatigue growing in his fathers, and leapt on it like a lion spotting a wounded gazelle. “Face it, old man! Your policy of non-involvement has only led to your weakness! You could have been sucking worlds dry and adding their numbers to your own, but instead you chose to stand on the sidelines. Meanwhile, I have entire planets’ worth of souls at my beck and call, their minds feeding into my power!”

“You talk…way too much…” Michael gasped, suddenly wanting nothing more than to ram the butt of his pistol down his son’s throat, even as the fuzz of exhaustion entered his mind and his processing power began to decline, graying out his thoughts. “Never…raised you…like that…”

He may have a point, brother, Chen said, linking with his brother on an entirely new frequency in the hope for a bit more privacy. As monstrous as it sounds, his willingness to drain so many minds may give him the edge in this battle! What are we to do!?

“Wait and let the last few players make their moves,” Michael said, grinning.

Don’t make allusions to classic games, brother. That is Dietrich’s territory.

Michael glared across the field. Mars smiled back, the hand-cannon raised as he stood with the confidence and power of a god about to claim victory. “Worth a shot,” he shrugged before leaping back into the fray.

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Just want to make sure you all know that I always welcome criticism on my writing style, use of plot, whatever. Just no trolling. You know: nothing along the lines of: "You sux, you stupid c**t lolol 6969."

If you like, click like, if you dislike, TELL ME WHY! PLEASE! For the love of God, don't just hit the damned dislike button and flitter off, you tell me you don't like something I've put this much work into, at least have the decency to give me a good reason.

Author's Note:

Just want to make sure you all know that I always welcome criticism on my writing style, use of plot, whatever. Just no trolling. You know: nothing along the lines of: "You sux, you stupid c**t lolol 6969."

If you like, click like, if you dislike, TELL ME WHY! PLEASE! For the love of God, don't just hit the damned dislike button and flitter off, you tell me you don't like something I've put this much work into, at least have the decency to give me a good reason.

Comments

[Anrky]

i really like your story. it's detailed and it really shows the unbeatable determination on the side of the good. although why are there only Americans in this story you'd think that more countries would be helping? like (Australia)

[kildeez]

3400774 Oh, the entire UN is helping in the war effort. Equestria is just one battlefield of many, and Celestia only allowed a small, token number of troops into her nation for reasons that are better explained near the end of this.

[Anrky]

3401590 ok then sweet, thanks for clarifying that with me

[vullture]

produced from Mar’ jacket.

another minor typo I noticed. Loving the story so far.