• Published 21st Apr 2014
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Night Mares - NCMares



Drafted into the defense of Equestria, the Crusaders volunteer to embark a series of dangerous operations behind enemy lines to cripple one of their chief technological advantages, a revolutionary spell matrix that Twilight refers to as the "radio."

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VI

Night Mares

VI.

August
Year 6 of the Harmonic Age


“Y’all reckon that’s the tank crew?”

“The four with the helmets?”

“Yeah.”

Artillery shells ceaselessly howl through a fog-ridden dawn as Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo and I take stock of our first objective. The forest is beginning to thin here – a mile or so behind the front. Clearings and meadows have become commonplace and large, jagged boulders lay scattered about green grass. Enormous mountains loom all around, appearing and vanishing behind low, rolling clouds.

“I think so,” Sweetie answers as the lightest of misty showers begins to descend. “I don’t see any rifles, and that tank hasn’t moved at all.”

“When did that last column move through?” Scootaloo asks with a pencil set in her teeth.

I furrow my brow and mutter, “Maybe five minutes ago?”

She hums. “OK. I’m thinking it’s steady – every ten minutes.”

“Yeah,” I agree before crunching into a mouthful of oats. I pan my crosshairs across a road running right next to a concrete bunker from which an antenna pokes out. A still tank sits idle in the grass next to it. We lie at the edge of a treeline a fair distance away, performing reconnaissance before making a move.

“Do you want to hit it after the next one passes?” Sweetie suggests.

Mm-mm,” I swallow and sigh. “We’ll see what we can see – just watch for a while.”

Sweetie nods.

I lightly sniff and shuffle underneath a layer of camouflage wrap. It’s still itchy, but it’s warm. I take my eye from the glass of my scope and gently rub it with the back of my hoof. Staring too long into that thing gets mighty uncomfortable, too. A couple birds flutter overhead and the rain lets up.

“There’s the next line,” Scootaloo mutters.

I peer through the glass and observe eight dark green tanks rumbling past the radio array. These are a lot bulkier than anything we’ve already seen, though. I compare them with the parked vehicle. Bigger, for sure. A far shorter gun barrel, too, but very wide. I reckon that thing packs a wallop.

“Hey, Scoots,” I speak up. “Write down in the log or somethin’ that there are new tanks around. They’re fat and got a big ol’ gun.”

“On it.”

Sweetie pipes up, “Everypony probably knows about them already, Apple Bloom. Onions can’t just make new tanks out of the blue.”

“You don’t know that, Sweetie,” I answer, panning my crosshairs along the line. “How do you know that they don’t got some kind of crazy teleportation abilities or some such?”

“If that were true they would have just showed up in Canterlot seven months ago. We wouldn’t even be here.”

“They got that fancy magical-radio-spell-matrix-thingamabob, though. Ain’t nopony seen that before.”

Das twoo,” Scoots mumbles through the pencil.

Sweetie casts her a sidelong glance and then looks back to me. “What about the artillery?”

I roll my eyes. “We saw that our first night out, Sweetie. You know – way out in the distance? We didn’t know exactly what it was but we knew it was real big and real scary to be lighting up brighter than Rainbow Dash during cider season. We just didn’t experience it personal-like, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Sweetie clicks her tongue.

“Eeyup.”

The convoy crawls across the clearing and enters the forest.

“I really got to get a detailed assessment of the enemy arsenal next time we see Twilight.”

I give a tired sigh. “The only way she’s gonna be able to provide a detailed assessment is if we perform this here reconnaissance, Sweetie.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo spits the pencil out, “this is the first time we’ve been able to get a good look at what they have. And what they have is pretty awesome, all things considered.”

She shifts her fingers in and out of her orange hoof. “I mean, not as awesome as us, but still cool.”

“That’s what kind of worries, me.” Sweetie mumbles.

“And how so?” I ask as the tank column finally rolls out of sight. “Log that the only unicorn we saw was leading the column, Scoots!”

“You got it!”

“Just that we’re moving too quickly,” Sweetie explains. “Given what we’ve seen, I think that the Royal Guard should have been
overwhelmed in a matter of weeks.”

“They only had those antique guns and cannons…” Scootaloo reminds us.

“Exactly. They held out for a couple of months, though. Against tanks and artillery being coordinated via the radio spell matrix, no less! Twilight and her ponies had time enough to build our own tanks and guns based on what the Union had.”

“So you’re worried that they’re still one hoofstep ahead?” I ask.

“I’m sure of it, Apple Bloom. Suddenly we’re on equal terms and pushing into enemy territory?” She shakes her head. “You said it yourself – we don’t even know what Princess Cadence and her Night Mares have seen down south. We don’t know what we’re trotting into, but I think it’s a trap.”

“Ah reckon that the princesses – with all their advisors and stuff – have run through everything a million times over,” I reassure her. “Just stay focused on the mission, Sweetie. There ain’t nothin’ we can do now, right? We’ll talk with Twi or someone up the chain soon. First we got to weaken the Onions enough to make a hole, OK?”

She sighs and settles under her camouflage wrap.

“One tree at a time, Sweetie. It’s mighty foolish to take on the whole orchard at once.”

Another tank column eventually passes – ten of the normal kind. Yet another unicorn sits in the top hatch in the lead tank. All the other commanders are earth ponies.

Interesting. I'm thinking Twi was onto something after all, what with unicorns being the leadership.

I take another look at the group of ponies sitting next to the array. They’re playing dice or something atop a small table. All earth ponies, there.

The rain once again begins to lazily fall as yet another tank column rolls by. I munch on some more oats.

The door to the array suddenly slams open and a white unicorn mare in crisp black uniform storms out. She shouts something at the ponies and flips the table, sending them scurrying into the tank. One seems to be too slow and she outright tosses him atop the turret.

Ouch.

She settles into the hatch and the machine rumbles to life and storms down the road toward the front.

Mighty interesting.

“Unicorn leadership.” Scootaloo mutters.

“Agreed.” Sweetie concurs.

“Get ready, y’all,” I mutter. “We’re going to nail it.”

“That’s a lot of open ground, Apple Bloom.” Sweetie cautions.

“We’ll be fine. Ain’t no patrol. They’ll never see us comin’.”

“We’ll go after the next convoy. In and out.” Scootaloo adds.

“Yeah.” I pull the wrap about my neck like a hood and rise to a crouch.

Scootaloo and Sweetie secure their packs and cradle their weapons. A faint roar and a multitude of clattering treads echo through the forest and the next column finally rolls into view. Every tank services passengers this time around. I roll my neck and shoulders and flex my black metal fingers in and out of their ports.

I flick my ears at the sound of laughter. Conversations.

One of them embraces another. Are they scared?

They surely are – they’re ponies. No matter what they done, they’re still ponies.

Ponies get scared.

Monsters don’t feel fear, though.

I’m still scared. I'm always scared.

That enemy unicorn back at the camp was right terrified of Scoots.

I bet the ponies in Quarry were scared, too.

I grip my gun a little tighter.

We’re all still ponies.

We all still feel.

Even Union ponies.

I still fear. That counts for something, I reckon, but I also am something to be feared.

No. No.

Somepony.

I’m somepony to be feared.

I am still a pony.

I shakily exhale. “Y’all still get to thinkin’, sometimes?”

Sweetie looks to me and shakes her head. “It’s not weakness, Apple Bloom.”

I scoff, nearly rolling my eyes.

“How? Thinkin’ll make you hesitate.”

“Listen,” she faces me, “Scootaloo and I were talking last night. Thinking is what makes us pony. Don’t lose that, Apple Bloom. Even after what we’ve seen – that’s not weakness.”

“That’s how we know we’re still OK.” Scootaloo adds. “What sometimes gets at me is wondering if they’re all bad. They’re obviously misguided, but… In the end that sort of thing doesn’t matter up here.”

“We just need to get through this, and then we can go home.” Sweetie gives a defeated shrug and her eyes become unfocused as she looks upon the trail of tanks.

“...We’ve probably killed a lot of good ponies, Apple Bloom. It’s OK to feel sad. But don't forget that they killed a lot of ponies, too.”

“Don’t make it a vendetta, though.” Scootaloo warns. “That’s how you lose yourself. That’s how you lose control.”

Her purple eyes spark with intensity at that. I nod. She should know, after all.

She glances at Sweetie and smirks. “I think that it’s the unicorns. I think they’re the real monsters, with their freaky magic and manipulative ways.”

I chuckle as Sweetie shakes her head with a small smile.

“I kind of do, though. The ones I’ve seen are hardcore. Back in the Valley I was about to scratch one – he was totally fearless, even then. He almost looked glad to die. I’ve never seen anything like it, or since.”

The convoy begins to disappear behind the trees.

“It don’t matter none if they’re unicorn or not, Scoots.” I look her straight in the eye. “You waste him – understand?”

She smiles. “That’s all there is to it, Apple Bloom. I know it’s hard – it should be hard – but I know that you have my back when we’re out here. You won’t hesitate.”

“Get ready.” Sweetie mutters.

Scootaloo nods at me and settles like a jackrabbit ready to bolt off.

“I got your back.” I mutter.

“On my go.”

I grip my weapon tightly as the sun begins to shine on the forest. The last tank finally disappears behind the trees.

“Up,” Sweetie mutters.

Wait.

Something is out there.

Glint?

Definitely reflective.

A rock?

Too bright. Not natural.

Where?

Far – in the trees. Past the array way on the other side of the clearing. Three hundred trots, maybe.

Glass?

Pointing at us.

“STOP!” I scream.

A tiny flash.

Scoots turns to me with wide, confused violet eyes. A puff of dust explodes from her vest and she collapses to the grass as a sharp *CRACK* blasts through the trees. Sweetie lands hard on her belly and rolls behind a trunk, gasping for air.

“Scootaloo?" She shrieks. "SCOOTS?!"

Her tree erupts in a shower of chippings and the forest is again flooded with the piercing *CRACK* of a long rifle. She cries out, holding her muzzle as blood flows from numerous slashes. A bullet hisses by and carries the crackling echo through the forest again.

We need to move.

“Sweetie!” I shout.

She whines loudly through pursed lips, half of her face bloodied and covered in wood fragments.

“I’m gonna grab Scootaloo – stay put!”

She nods and bares her teeth, hissing aloud before finally crying out.

Scootaloo hasn’t moved or said a word.

My trembling hoof inches forward.

Just a little…

*CRACK*

I snap my head back as the round screams by my head.

“Come on!” I shout.

The air is suddenly sent into a frenzy of *snaps* as the ponies in the array building join in.

I have to get to her.

I make to lean out again but flatten my ears to another shrieking long rifle round.

NO!

I ram the back of my head into the tree trunk and sob aloud. Scootaloo’s going to bleed away not two hoofsteps from me.

I look to her still form.

“Scootaloo,” I silently sob amid the gunfire.

Sweetie has curled into a ball and nurses her face as best as she can.

Not like this.

“It’s not ending like this!” I wail aloud and hold my rifle to my face.

I forcefully chamber a bullet and shut my mouth as tears continue to roll down my cheeks.

I'm so scared.

With trembling hooves I undo my bow and let my mane hang free.

“Swe-" I choke and finally shout. "Sweetie!”

The enemy rifle fires again.

She cracks the eye not covered in blood open at me.

“Grab Scoots on my go!”

She lowers her head and rises to a crouch.

I flick the tattered pink cloth up high and roll in the opposite direction, bringing my gun to bear.

*CRACK*

There…

My long rifle sends a bullet flying at the flash. A great puff of dust and grass marks its impact and a glinting tube is sent flying. *shick-clack* I pull the bolt and watch carefully. The other ponies have stopped their assault at the sound of incoming fire and are shouting at one another. Nopony makes to retrieve the long rifle.

I turn back around the trunk and look at Sweetie. She holds a shivering – thankfully breathing – Scootaloo in her hooves.

I sputter out the most anxious breath I’ve ever held. “Are you OK?”

She slowly nods and takes a long breath, shutting her purple eyes. I turn around and aim again where the enemy sharp-shooter was. Something is moving out there. The shape of a pony emerges from the grass and picks up the rifle, but just as I make to bring him down yet another long rifle – Equestrian – screams across the meadow.

The pony falls and shots snap across the grass. The ponies from the array shout and make to retaliate but are swiftly cut down by the treeline that houses the tank trail. The last one hunkers behind a boulder, but a green, bipedal mare dashes from the brush and is almost immediately on him. She takes him to the ground and a blade glints in the sun before disappearing within his chest.

The Night Mare rises and pans her long rifle around before looking back at me with golden eyes. Despite everything I can’t help but smile.

Heartstrings waves and slings her weapon. The other two ponies rounding out Nightmare Five emerge from the trees and gallop to the array. I crouch down to Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. Sweetie continues to whimper behind her hoof and loudly sniffs.

“I’m OK,” she croaks as her horn lights up in a green aura. “Just stings.”

Scootaloo wipes her eyes and looks up to me.

“It hit my pack,” she whispers and forcibly gulps, shivering something fierce. "It hit my pack..."

I crouch and hug her close.

“Ah’m just glad you’re OK,” I whisper.

She clings back hard and with fingers outstretched. Sweetie shuffles and joins in, and for a small while we simply sit and feel the warmth of each others embrace as the rain returns.

Sweetie leans back and whimpers as a particularly large shard of wood is removed from her lip and hisses in the effort to seal the wound with her magic. The bleeding stops, but a nasty scar remains.

My fur stands on end as the array suddenly explodes and forcefully rocks the ground. I flick my ears back up and look to the fiery ruin and then to three ponies trotting up to us.

“Are you girls OK?” Lyra rests on her haunches.

“Thanks to y’all,” I look to the other ponies.

“We heard the long gun go off and came running. I’ve only seen one other. Caught you off-guard?”

I look back to Scoots and nervously chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say it did.”

“Hi, Sweetie. Hey, Scootaloo.” She smiles at the two of them.

They respond in kind and Lyra looks back toward the array with a frown. Her ears swivel, some.

“Time to move, Crusaders.”

Nightmare Five helps us to our hooves and we move deeper into the trees as another convoy roars into the meadow.

--

Six pairs of hooves thunder through the brush as the sounds of the front grow ever louder. The Equestrians have seized the initiative under silent skies fast turning dark under Wonderbolt storm clouds.

"That last array crippled enemy communications right up to Ironwood!" Lyra shouts. "We need to hit the last two before everypony catches up!"

"What if we don't?" Sweetie calls out.

Nightmare Five's Daisy rounds a tree and shouts, "Then we lose the momentum! They're relocating the arty, so this is our chance to make as much ground as we can!"

The light brown earth pony flips her white mane and raises her voice. "We're going in fast and hard! Look alive!"

The other Night Mare, a dark pegasus named Jade, takes the lead. "Up on me!" She shouts.

I lick my lips and get set - we can't be far. A deep, guttural sound flares up behind us. I look back to a dark shape speeding through the forest, lighting up the gloom with twin shoots of flame spitting from exhaust pipes.

"TANK!" Scootaloo screeches.

"Go wide!" Lyra shouts. "Go wide!"

We break from one another, giving the machine a wide berth. Despite its size it manages to quickly navigate around the trunks, but it dare not rotate the turret lest it snag. I run alongside the clattering treads, struggling to maintain my pace as the ground furiously shakes. The top hatch flies open and a bright blue unicorn mare appears, pointing a gun right at me.

I yelp and duck as she fires, getting dangerously close to the rattling treads. I rear to my hind legs, extend my fingers and latch firmly onto the metal, hitching a ride just in case the driver needs to flatten me to get around the next tree. A low whistle and numerous thunder claps boom from behind, and I look through my mess of whipping mane up at five pegasi zipping through the trees, each trailing a plume of black clouds set alight by forks of lightning. They wear dark blue suits and tan vests under a metal winged contraption, sporting a pair of very deadly-looking guns.

I think I can hear Scootaloo whooping for joy amid the racket.

A single rainbow-maned pegasus takes lead of the formation and I cry out as she fires bright multi-colored streaks into the tank, eliciting a shout from the commander and setting the engine aflame. The wonderbolt flies in close, jaw slightly agape. She lifts a pair of cracked goggles to reveal deep magenta irises filled with disbelief, a touch of awe and the slightest hint of sorrow.

She mouths my name.

I look ahead and wave frantically to Rainbow, who finally looks herself and very nearly plows into a tree. She pulls up hard, disappearing into the canopy. I rip my hoof from the side of the tank and plant it further up, clambering atop the turret just as it rolls into a clearing. At the other end of the grass is a radio installation surrounded by thick logs. Bright yellow flashes send hissing rounds our way, and I duck low as I make my way to the front of the machine toward a single hatch.

I punch my hind leg through the metal and with a grunt rip it clean off its hinges. The earth pony inside can only look up to a metal claw latching onto his screaming face. I squeeze the pads and feel his hooves claw desperately at my hind leg, but one hard twist renders him motionless. I leap from the machine into a dizzying mess of grass and dirt. The out-of-control tank roars onward straight into the bunker, violently exploding and forcing my stomach to empty itself at the shock wave.

So much for breakfast.

I loudly groan and slowly lift my head from the bile, wiping my mouth and spitting as best I can in the midst of a coming headache.

Lyra kneels at my side and rolls me to my back. "Are you OK?"

"My he- " I cough and manage to croak, "my head hurts..."

She grins widely and sits me up, lighting her horn in a golden aura and bringing a soothing wave of magic through my body. I sigh in relief and blink away the lingering ache.

"Lyra!" Jade calls out, "We need to move!"

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle slide in from a gallop.

"That was awesome!" Scootaloo gushes as she helps me up.

Sweetie offers my rifle. "You good, Apple Bloom?"

"Ah'm good." I nod. "Thanks, Lyra."

She nods and warns, "There'll be more. We got to get to the next installation pronto."

With that we trot into the trees on the heels of Jade and Daisy, breaking into a gallop in the dark shade of the forest. The flight of Wonderbolts makes one final pass, soaring high into the clouds.

"That's one way to take care of an array!" Daisy shouts with a smile.

"Next one's straight ahead!" Sweetie calls out under a clap of thunder.

"Rush it! We're out of time!" Lyra orders. "Apple Bloom - stick with me!"

The mint green pony slides to a halt at the tree line and brings her gun forth.

"Up!" She shouts, using her augments to claw her way up one of the towering trunks.

I follow as the other Night Mares dash toward the array, shifting to their hind legs when a group of ponies emerge from a bunker. Lyra jams her hind claws into the trunk with a crack and is able to lean upright. She brings her rifle up and almost immediately fires. I point the pads of my rear hooves and ram my legs into the thick bark just like her, finding support and bringing the glass of the scope to my eye with my forehooves.

I quickly send a bullet right through the neck of a unicorn mare, who viciously claws at the wound as she collapses into another pony's hooves. The others are quick to duck down behind a row of logs.

"Just like that." Lyra mutters. "Equestrian suppression."

I flap my ears as she shoots again, clipping the very edge of a log just above a dark helmet. The four Night Mares all but dive behind the wall and a flurry of distant snaps echo through the trees. Sweetie runs to the concrete bunker, plants the explosives and joins the other four in the gallop back to Lyra and I.

Wait.

Movement.

I shift my cross-hairs back to the array where a tiny orange unicorn filly dressed in the same black uniform as the tank commander levitates a gun.

It falls to the ground.

Her large blue eyes glisten and a trail of tears are clearly visible over her distraught face as she beholds the dead ponies behind the log wall. The forest lights up in a violet flash and a deafening crackle of thunder rips across the sky. Her mouth moves in a silent scream and she scrambles behind the wall.

"At the door!" I shout.

I can't.

Not again.

"What?" Lyra mutters. "Apple Bloom - there's nothing there. It's gone!" Her voice rises in alarm.

I can. I see her.

I can see her, clear as day. She's curled into a tiny ball next to a pale orange corpse. The unicorn I shot. She nuzzles the pony's mane and her mouth moves in heaping sobs as she buries her face in the body. She looks around in distress, lips quivering. Her eyes finally settle on me. She coughs out a sob and lightly shakes her head.

Her blue eyes burn into me and she mouths three words.

"A pony." I whisper.

She lightly shakes her head and asks again.

"A pony!" I mutter. "Ah'm a pony!"

Her shoulders droop and she shakes her head again, shuffling back on her rump with eyes wide in terror.

"Ah am!" I shout. "Ah am a pony!"

Again, the filly shakes her head and she shuts her eyes tight.

"AH AM!" I shriek. "Mah name is Apple Bloom! Ah'm from Ponyville! Ah grew up there with Sweetie and Scootaloo - we're all ponies!"

The filly flattens her ears and turns away from me.

"Yes we are!" I scream at her. She doesn't respond.

I don’t even hesitate. The cross hairs align and I squeeze the trigger as hard as I can. Her tiny body jerks back from the impact and a cloud of dust erupts around her. Her wide blue eyes blink quickly and she gasps for air as her hooves clutch her chest. She looks at me again.

What are you?

"Apple Bloom?!" Sweetie's voice resounds in my head. I blink and am met with the smoking ruins of the array. No bunker. No log wall. No unicorn filly.

I take my eye from the scope and look to Sweetie. She's climbed the tree and has a hoof on my shoulder.

"You're a pony." She mutters and holds me close.

"You always will be." She mutters. "We need you, though. We're not done. OK?"

She releases me.

I nod, feeling fine. Is that a good thing? Sweetie and I settle on the ground, where Scootaloo waits alone.

Another crack of thunder booms through the trees. Tank and gunfire follows.

Scootaloo lightly punches my shoulder and smiles softly.

"Five went ahead to Ironwood. This'll be a big one. Like the Valley, Jade says. You good?"

I nod. "Ah'm good." I need to be. For them.

I bite my lip and look at the grass. "Just saw another young 'un."

Sweetie and Scootaloo exchange looks.

"Young ‘un?" Scootaloo inquires.

I nod and think back to the unicorn colt.

"Our second hit - in the rain. There was another little unicorn. I shot him once but couldn't do it. Sweetie finished it."

Scoots looks to her. She makes a movement. Probably to indicate where she shot him, I reckon.

"Apple Bloom." Sweetie softly mutters. Scoots reaches over and touches her.

After a quick pause she exhales as if in defeat. "We got to go."

Yeah. Yeah, we do.

I nod and take a deep breath. "Come on."

I lead the way through the trees toward the front. Numerous explosions rattle the ground, but only a few artillery shells howl across the battlefield. Union ponies don't know where to put them without the spell matrix. The Night Mares did good.

Thunder rips across the sky as the trees are bathed in a flash of violet lightning. The shaking in the ground grows more intense. Individual rifles and tanks can be picked out amid the chaos. Violent flashes light up the trees from straight ahead. We emerge at the treeline, beholding the front.

The massive front.

The horrifying front.

So many tanks.

So many cannons.

So many ponies. I don't think I've ever seen so many ponies in one place, before.

All fighting. All dying.

Wonderbolts shriek over the town of Ironwood as rattling yellow streaks soar into the sky in an attempt to shoot them down. Bright red and yellow beams ceaselessly fly both to and from the buildings as the Equestrians slowly, but surely, roll onward.

Brothers hold one another as a shell screams toward them.

Sisters sigh in relief as they are spared for just a little while longer.

A mare just out of fashion academy furiously claws her way through the mud, both of her hind legs tucked safely in her pack.

A stallion looks back to his squad-mate, unsure of how to react to the gaping hole where his face used to be.

A Night Mare lifts a pony clean off of her hoofs and throws her under the treads of a tank.

A crew scrambles from a machine bathed in flame, unable to scream through charred throats.

A fresh squad leaps from their ride.

A medic finally stops the bleeding.

A lunar princess finally weeps.

A dying, orange filly with wide blue eyes mouths four words.

.

.

.

"It doesn't end." I answer her.

.

.

.

How can it?

End Part II

. . .

Author's Note:

Been a long time coming, guys. My apologies. I will see this story finished, though. Huge thanks to ManeSixSwag for editing, and to all of you for sticking around.