Blackacre

by Princess Woona

The Beast Below

22 April, Y.C. 970
Canterlot

They were droning on again.

The other Secreponies tended to do that, but the tendency was perhaps most pronounced when dealing with something that they didn’t really want to deal with. And yet, all of them felt they needed to at least say something. Nopony cared what Kate Sebilly, Secrepony of Health and Equine Welfare, thought about the war. Ponies died in it; by definition, that was bad for their health. End of story.

Not that it mattered much anyway. McNamare was going to tune out anything they said at this point. She didn’t care if every single colt and filly in the country was deaf, dumb, and illiterate; that wasn’t her job and she frankly didn’t care. There were more important things to worry about.

Staring idly out a nearby window, she couldn’t help but notice the crowd gathered, as usual, in Haymarket Square below. There had been a time when the only ponies who were always there were the usual assortment of drunks; now, though, there seemed to be a proper twenty-four-hour vigil, interpunctuated by groups of chanting protesters in the morning and in the evening, just in time to clog the square when ponies were getting to and getting off work.

She paid them no heed. As long as they were just yapping about, they weren’t a threat; without access to national media, all they could do would be to stir up the few percentage points of nutjobs in Canterlot. And if they decided to do more than that, the Royal Guard was more than capable of handling any situation that might arise.

Still didn’t stop them from being damned annoying.

What were they complaining about, anyway? If it was the slow pace of progress in the war, and nopony could mistake that they were making progress, then their canvassing could only get in the way. If they were complaining about the fact that there was a war in the first place, then she would love to see just exactly what they proposed in order to fix the problem. First pony to come to her office with a time machine wins.

No, they were a bunch of idiots. That much was clear enough. Regardless of how they got here, the simple fact of the matter was that a portion of Equestria was now actively trying to kill and otherwise harm other ponies. Therefore, they needed to be stopped, by any means necessary. How was this so complex?

And why did the Secrepony of Education get a turn?

A few moments into what were undoubtedly introductory statements to prepared remarks, the Princess’ voice cut in, gently reminding all present that perhaps statements of position were best kept out of the council chambers.

The Secrepony had the good graces to look slightly red.

“All right then,” she said with that warm and disarming smile that usually made an appearance towards the end of tense council meetings. “Any last elements of business?”

“Yes,” said McNamare with the trace of a frown. “I have one last item to bring to the council’s attention.”

Around the table, eyebrows arched.

“Secrepony McNamare,” said Secrepony Hay smoothly, “I do believe we’ve covered the conflict in Blackacre in some detail.”

“Hear, hear,” muttered someone towards the end of the table.

“That’s not my current point of concern,” said McNamare, sliding a set of dossiers across the table. “These are the latest reconnaissance reports from the Second and Fourth Wings in Appleloosa and Hayseed, respectively.”

“Fascinating,” said Hay, “and I fail to see why —”

“Dragon activity is on the rise,” she said bluntly.

For a moment, the table was silent.

“Go on,” said Princess Celestia.

“Thank you,” McNamare nodded, recognizing the official endorsement. “Activity isn’t significantly higher, but it’s measurably up across the board.”

“What are we talking here,” butted in Hay. “Number, locations, assets?”

“Everything,” she said, “across the board. More dragons. More encampments. More suspected supply depots.”

“What quantities?”

“Again, nothing major, but enough to warrant separate warnings by both Air Wing commanders, independent of each other.” She gestured at the briefing. “I’ve included their tactical assessments of the situation.”

The Princess nodded. “A summary, if you would be so kind.”

“In a nutshell, it’s exactly what we feared. With both Royal Army and Air Patrol mobilized, they’re looking for opportunities to take back what they lost in the Skirmishes.”

“They didn’t lose anything,” pointed out Hay.

“You can’t find it on a map, but to them, pride is as good a reason to invade as any.” She shook her head. “That, plus the possibility of gaining ground. Our forces are fully deployed and taking losses. We’re replenishing at a sustainable rate, but our replacements are green. We’re losing Skirmish veterans, losing the experience that turned the tide for us.”

Sebilly rolled her eyes. The Secrepony of Health disliked any death, as might be expected, but she was particularly opposed to the vigorous conscription program that had been implemented. Some nonsense about taking ponies out of the educated stripe of the workforce. Apparently she didn’t fully appreciate that, without the efforts of those ponies, there might not be a workforce by this time next year.

“The point is,” she said, recovering the attention of the room, “the dragons know we’re in a vulnerable spot. We can’t afford a two-front conflict.”

“We can barely afford a one-front war,” grumbled Geldner.

“Which is why a two-front war would sink us,” she said with a nod at the Secrepony of the Treasury. “And they know it. Both major-generals concluded that we need to keep a modest force in reserve at all times to head off any potential threat. And, frankly, I’m inclined to believe them. The last thing we need is dragons.”

“That takes ponies off the front lines,” said Hay. “Puts a dent in the hammer-and-anvil strategy. Our push is already going slower than expected. If we can’t commit more troops, we’ll lose whatever momentum we have.”

“And if we give the dragons even the smallest clawhold, we’ll lose a lot more than that.” She gestured again at the reports. “I hate to say it, but this breaks down very simply. Between keeping our current troop levels, taking Blackacre, or holding off the dragons, we get to pick two and hope for one.”

A few moments of silence, broken again by Hay.

“Can we hold off the dragons with reduced forces?”

“It’s not a matter of holding them off. It’s a question of showing force. We can’t trick them; either we have forces on the border or we don’t.”

He frowned. “During peacetime operations, the borders are manned by a skeleton crew.”

“Sure, but that crew is backed by the full Air Patrol, which can mobilize on location inside of a week. Now, though, we don’t have any reserves — what they see is what we have. If we deploy a skeleton crew now, even a smallish one, they’ll know there won’t be reinforcements on the way. That’s the difference; we need a full complement of Air Patrol ponies on the lines.”

“Can we push on Blackacre and return to cover before the dragons get wind of it?”

“Tactically, yes; strategically, no.” She shook her head. “We can afford to deploy the entire Air Patrol for two days, three at most. But, our flyers need to be back in position on the border before long; we can’t have them away long enough to support a full ground offensive, or anything close to it.”

“When do new forces start hitting the ground?”

“June? Honestly they won’t make much of a difference, not at first. We’ve been making up losses out of reserves, and we’re almost out of those. By the time new recruits start hitting the ground in force, they’ll be picking up the slack from reserves. We’ll keep a roughly level number of deployed forces, even with recruitment up as high as it is.”

Hay shot a knowing look at Sebilly.

“What about… extraordinary measures?”

“That would help long-term, but again, without a few months for training, the numbers won’t matter.” McNamare winced. “Even if we… take action now, the new influx won’t come in until later. This is a now problem.”

“I fully agree,” said the Princess. “Our obligations first and foremost are to protect the ponies of Equestria from the draconic threat. Tell your generals to use any and all forces necessary to reasonably secure their lines. But no more.”

“Yes, Princess,” she said, taking a quick note. That was the status quo; there was nothing to change on that count.

“All other forces are directed to push on Blackacre as fast as possible,” said the Princess, fire in her eyes. “Harmony must be restored before the imbalance threatens the rest of Equestria.”

“Of course.”

A pause, contemplative on the part of the alicorn.

“Lastly… increase recruitment quotas. Fifteen percent across the board.”

“Princess!” exclaimed Sebilly.

“This is the least of the alternatives,” she said firmly, cutting off any notion of discussion. “And it will be open to reconsideration. I suggest we make do with fifteen percent.”

“Yes, Princess,” said McNamare with a quiet nod before Sebilly could dig herself a deeper hole.

“Thank you,” said Princess Celestia, rising. “Thank you all. I believe that is all for today; we all have much to think about.”

Somber nods across the room. Some of them had more to think about than others, but at the end of the day Equestria’s problems were their problems.

“As always, if any of you wish to meet with me, my door is always open when the good of Equestria is at stake.”

As always, the group dismissed itself fairly quickly, ponies dissolving out the doors.

And, as always, McNamare remained behind.

“Do we need to draft?” asked Celestia bluntly.

McNamare sighed. That was something she had no desire to design or enforce, but if it was needed….

“It would wreak havoc for internal politics. Years of fallout.” She paused. “I don’t think we need to do it. Not yet. Raising quotas will help, but some areas are already starting to run dry of volunteers. We need to wrap this up soon. Another winter’s worth… I don’t want to imagine it.”

“Neither do I,” agreed the Princess. “But would it work?”

A pause, a long one.

“It would.”

The alicorn gave a slight nod.

“All right then.”

She glanced towards the window; though the sun was still up, it was obscured by clouds. How fitting.

“If you’ll excuse me, I must prepare.”

“Of course, Princess,” said McNamare, grabbing her materials. “Until tomorrow.”

“If not sooner,” she said with a half-smile. Late night meetings were nothing new around the castle, and these days… well, if late nights were the worse of their problems, they would be well off indeed. “Good night.”

As McNamare exited the chamber, leaving Celestia alone, she glanced again out at the sun. She still had a good twenty, twenty-five minutes before making the obligatory appearance on the balcony to usher in the night.

Those were twenty minutes she could dedicate to the problem at hand. They couldn’t draft more ponies, and they couldn’t make any progress on Blackacre while the dragons remained a threat. The problem admitted of a number of partial resolutions and messy covers, but she had been toying with a particularly elegant solution over the past few days.

Bringing a powerful external force into the castle was dangerous enough as it was; though she could easily control it, the fact that it would all have to occur in secret made the proposition a delicate one at best. That said, given the circumstances, she didn’t have much of a choice.

She could do it, of course. She had before, she would again. She wouldn’t be much of a princess if she couldn’t smuggle foreign royalty into her own castle. And, tricky though it was, she could hide it from McNamare. She was remarkably bright for a secrepony, perhaps the brightest in a few hundred years, but there were always ways, even if they were difficult.

The only problem would be doing it twice.