Night Mares
Part I. Dusk
I.
July
Year 6 of the Harmonic Age
Faint rumbles ripple through the quiet night as a storm develops on the horizon.
“…but it’s not thunder. Is it, Apple Bloom?”
My orange eyes remain focused on the clouds in the distance as they are occasionally lit from below by rapid flashes of yellow and white light.
“No.” I answer. “I reckon thunder ain’t nearly as pretty as what we’re seeing right now.”
I sit perched in a tree overlooking a cliff face bathed in moonlight and surrounded by fireflies. The animals of the forest are completely silent. They're aware of the coming storm. The only sound to be heard is the occasional quiet roll of a particularly large detonation.
What must it be like?
After another minute of watching the clouds advance toward us Sweetie Belle speaks up. “We ought to keep moving, while the moon is still shining.”
I breathe deep as a light breeze rustles through the pine trees. I nod to myself and drop from my perch, landing with a heavy thud next to Scootaloo. We rise to all fours and I nod toward the forest, disappearing inside with my friends following close behind. The forest canopy blocks most of the moon's glow, but like a great spotlight it manages to shine through spaces upon the grass below. It’s exceedingly beautiful. In one moment we are immersed in white light and the next shrouded in darkness.
“Are you girls nervous?” Sweetie Belle asks.
"Heh, yeah." I quickly mutter.
“Good – I was hoping it wasn’t just me.”
“I think you’d have to be crazy not to be.” Scootaloo interjects. “I don’t know about you, but I sure haven’t done anything like this before.”
“Nopony's done this in a mighty long time, Scoots.” I pause and then add, “Let alone like we are.”
I listen to the little mechanical sounds of my hind legs as we trot onward. Each step is accompanied by tiny hissing and wheezing. My foalhood friends and I are among fifteen ponies under the command of Princess Luna equipped with such technology. Technology that will finally give the Equestrian nation a chance to really fight back against her invaders. Nervous doesn't begin to describe the feeling in my gut – that sinking weight reminding me that other pony’s lives depend on me.
This is our very first mission – sabotage two magical 'radio' installations deep within the forest. Twilight Sparkle said that the hostile ponies communicated instantly with each other over huge distances with waves. Not like water waves, though – she says they’re like magic in the air. I’m not sure how all that works, but I do know that if a grease-pony like Scootaloo can’t figure out how it all ticks then we are well equipped to destroy the sites, anyhow.
The conversation ebbs away as it usually does whenever our hooves are mentioned. We volunteered to receive them, but it was still mighty disturbing to think about what our friend Twilight and her scientists had accomplished. When we awoke for the first time Sweetie about had a heart attack when she saw her legs – the poor thing kept asking for her old ones back for hours. We got better as we learned to use them, but that first day was the hardest. I don’t reckon anypony can blame us - I ain’t ever heard of a pony walking on two legs before.
The moon’s light fades as the deep violet clouds advance far above. Within minutes the cloud cover is unbroken and we are practically walking blind.
“Settle down,” I mutter.
The last thing we need is to fall down an unseen ravine in these mountains. The wind suddenly picks up, rushing through the leaves and flicking my mane over my shoulder. We crouch low and huddle up at the base of a tree as gentle raindrops begin to pelt the earth. We don’t talk about it, but I know we’re all wondering what it will be like when the sun comes up. What it will be like to do what we have to do.
--
None of us can sleep while we wait for the sun to rise. I can hardly sit still. I think about what it will be like to use these weapons. How it will feel to shoot somepony. How it will feel to be shot at. I frown and bring a hoof to my face. With a thought three small black fingers and a thumb separate from the yellow of my natural body and I curl them in and out. These are powerful, too. If it came to it these could be as deadly as any gun. I quietly sigh as I lower my hoof and think about home.
Applejack had been drafted only a week before I left for Canterlot into the tank corps. Those machines were truly terrifying – belching smoke and growling like a monster as the ground shook under the treads; let alone the enormous gun. Where Twilight and her team thought up this stuff, I’ll never know. Snug inside a steel beast is probably about as safe as it gets here in the Northwest, so I’d rather AJ be there than anywhere else.
She’s probably worried sick about me, no doubt wanting more than anything to plant a helmet on my head. I wonder what she’d think of my hooves. Big Mac and Granny are probably thinking of us both back home on the farm. His wound is probably patched up good by now. I feel a drop of moisture on my foreleg. It’s not rain. With a sniff I dry my eyes and sigh as the wind sweeps across the grass. Do I already miss them this much?
“Are you thinking of home, Apple Bloom?” Scootaloo whispers.
“Yeah.”
She nods. “Me too. I’m really missing Ponyville and my folks right now.”
“Me three!” Sweetie pipes up quietly from around the tree.
“What do you think Rarity’s up to?”
“Probably asleep.” Sweetie laughs softly. “But missing me as much as I miss her.”
“I bet Rainbow Dash was in that battle we saw earlier – kicking flank like a true Wonderbolt.”
“Maybe Applejack was, too?”
I remain silent and look to the sky through the pine needles. It’s gotten lighter. Almost time to go. I lift the flap of a pouch on my vest and refer to the map therein, figuring we can’t be more than a mile from our destination. My heart begins to beat a little faster. I put the map away, retract my fingers and rise to my hooves.
“Let’s move.”
--
“Turns out the advance scouts were off by a quarter-mile.” Sweetie mutters behind large binoculars
We lay on our bellies at the edge of the forest, observing a stretch of grass between us and a small wooden building barely visible in the gloom of dawn. A large structure soars into the grey sky from the roof, crisscrossed by metal framework and a number of small dishes and orbs. A lone guard scans the forest from a perch in the tower.
“I’ll stay here and take care of the tower.” I whisper. “Scootaloo’ll use that ditch over there to get as close as she can before rigging the bombs.”
We look to a shallow dip in the grass running parallel to the building and into the forest beyond. At least fifteen trots stand between the ditch and the site itself, however. Ain't no way she’ll be able to get very close before I’d have to shoot the guard, alerting anypony in the building and probably within a mile to our presence.
“I think they’re asleep.” Sweetie Belle passes the binoculars. "They haven’t moved at all the whole time we’ve been here.”
Although I can’t guarantee they’re asleep, I agree with her that the guard is not moving.
“The sun is about to come up. I’ll go with Scootaloo while you watch over us. If anything happens, just whistle or something.”
I nod and swallow hard. Sweetie and Scootaloo quietly shuffle away from me and make their way to the ditch. I lick my front teeth and release a quivering breath. This is really happening. My chest lightly tightens and I bring forth the long rifle, hooves all but shaking in anticipation. I settle the weapon and peer through a telescope fixed atop the barrel. With remarkable clarity I fix my gaze on the still guard and then pan to the meadow, waiting for my friends to appear. My ears twitch as a breeze sweeps through the forest, carrying with it a sound like rushing water.
There – I spot Scootaloo crawling ahead of Sweetie in the tall grass. When they’re about halfway to the antenna I look back to a now empty tower. My heart sinks and my mouth goes dry. After three failed attempts I finally manage to give a quick whistle like that of a bird, hoping that that anypony besides my friends would buy it as such.
Scootaloo immediately stops and waves toward Sweetie. I finally spot the guard approaching their position. I bring the cross-hairs to bear on his – no, her – head. She seems tired, squinting into the forest with a gun at her side. It's a lot different than ours but very lethal. I feel one of the fingers on my left hoof detach itself and wrap around the trigger.
One shot, and then the rest will come.
I catch my breath and focus. Only two things are in existence now – me and the pony I’m about to kill. A moment before I fire the mare suddenly gives a cough, yawns wide and turns about. I blink, letting out the breath Twilight told me to hold when firing and almost chuckle as I loosen my grip on the trigger. The quiet sounds of dawn return to my ears.
I follow the retreating guard and jump as Scootaloo suddenly enters my viewport on her hind legs. The pony can barely turn her head before my friend clamps a hoof over her muzzle and thrusts a knife through her neck. They collapse to the ground, Scootaloo holding fast as the mare thrashes with less and less fervor as the seconds pass. I watch her give a lurch and the motions suddenly cease.
Scootaloo, the first of us to draw blood, motions to Sweetie. She rises to her own hind legs and, with weapons trained on the building, they advance across the meadow. Horrified, I remove my eye from the glass.
How could she?
How could I, for that matter, when the time comes? My breath quickens as my friends approach the base of the tower.
Like nothing! She just killed somepony and went her way without even…
Even what? Showing remorse? Holding a proper burial and informing next of kin? Is this not what we’re here for? What Twilight trusts us to do?
I recall how close I was to taking that mare’s life. With a shiver born not of the wind I realize that I felt nothing in that moment save for devotion to my friends. I hope Scootaloo felt the same way when she unsheathed her knife.
Scootaloo plants the explosives at the base of the building and then, before I know it, she and Sweetie are stepping backward from the site, weapons still pointed forward in case somepony decides to step outside for some fresh air.
The golden sun is just peeking over the treetops when my friends finally disappear into the forest. I look back to the dead mare lying in the grass. The wind lightly picks at her blonde mane. Her back is to me, but when the brilliant sun strikes the meadow through the trees I can clearly see a crimson stream staining her brown coat.
I tear my eyes from the corpse as Sweetie and Scootaloo return. In the latter’s hoof is a small device connected to a wire. Her vest is dark with blood and a few drops rest below one eye.
“Brace,” she mutters. She presses the button.
The installation erupts in a cloud of black smoke and dust. A split-second later my ears flatten down as a thunderous roar blasts through the meadow and into the pit of my stomach. Pine needles rain down as the racket echoes through the forest, frightening dozens of birds from their nests.
I open my eyes, rise to a knee and shakily sling the long rifle across my back.
When the time comes, I need to be faster. I can’t think - if I think then one of us will be killed.
Continuing to look at the smoking wreckage I mutter, “For the record: One installation destroyed. Nightmare Two continues to the next site.”
I won’t let one of us be killed.
nvm, didn't read the blog post.
It never is easy.
This is awsome. Please do not stop writing this fic.
sooo, are they fighting humans?
5067242 That depends on what kind of person you are. For me my 1st kill was sickeningly easy. I didn't feel nervious or remorseful about it (still don't feel any remorse) for me it was simple and quick. One second those sick fucks we're alive the next they we're a fine red mist and blood jello.
However for the majority of people, yes it is very hard. Or so I assume when I am forced to kill I still feel nothing. And before you start freaking out killing is not something I do lightly and is something I do when I have absolutely no choice. So unless you are activily trying to murder me or some one I am close to or even some poor shmo on the street and there is no easy way (as in I act right this instant or me or someone else is dead) then you're a dead mother fucker and I'll be sure to notify your next of kin by way of an oppology letter taped onto your cold corpse assuming there is something left of you bigger then a nickle.
This story has snagged my interest.
Lyra
5090790
Yeah, your just gonna' send them their family members corpse through the mail. Not suspicious at all.
They never tell you how hard it is killing someone... or how easy it gets later on *evil cackle*
Nicely done man, once more! This is freaking cool, the CMC, kicking butt... very slowly. I love how she hesitated while Scoots just went for it, proves how hard it is to take a life~ :D
Keep it going bro!
I'm sort of curious as to who this enemy is. I think that if you were to go through and do revision, it would pay handsomely to more completely describe these ponies. Are they cybernetically augmented like the CMC? Natural anthro? I'm curious.
Very good so far, can't wait to see who these ponies are and why they invaded.
5090790
Even though I do agree with you to a point, you must also acknowledge the mental and psychological state of mind of the individual.
In my opinion, as a student of sociology and psychology, there are 4 different types of killers
Selfish killers: these people kill others (regardless of who that person is in general or to them), for the simple plain reason that they have something to gain from the death of that person. Mentally, they aren't prepared (by a longshot) to kill someone, but knowing what they will gain from the death makes them "emotionally" strong enough to actually pull the trigger and kill the person/people. They have been separated from society.
Altruist killers: these people are emotionally indifferent when it comes to life and death, even though they do kill people, they never do it in cold blood. They kill people because of the person in question knows and acknowledges the fact that he/she must die (for whatever reason) and is scared or emotionally unable to pull the trigger on themselves. Call it a mercy killing if you want, but these people know that if they must die for the ideology in their mins, they will gladly die.
Anomic killers: these people are the easiest come by. They might have everything or nothing, and because of the socioeconomical or sociopolitical stress they're in, they will grab a weapon, march into a place and kill people. These people always have an option in life, but be it for a family tradition, the situation at hand or simply because they want it, they prefer to live under the sword. Be it for honour, tradition, greed, bloodlust or for the sake of protecting their home, these killers are the most common in both society and in history. This happens when the social order has been broken and people start to become desperate.
Fatalist killers: these people (sadly) are quite common these days (and even back in the 1970-1980), they're in a position in life that prevents them from moving any direction. The intense and consuming sensastion of being stranded becomes unbearable no they will do anything to escape. Even though these people are mentally and emotionally unstable, they are quite hard to predict. They have lost all control they once he and acknowledge they have no way out.
I must remind that this is my personal opinion on the matter, if I have offended anyone then you are to sensitive to read this fanfic.
God bless us all
The trees block most of the moon's glow, but like a great spotlight it manages to shine through spaces in the canopy upon the grass below. It’s exceedingly beautiful. In one moment we are immersed in white light and the next shrouded in darkness.
the tree blocks, or the tree blocked.
no mention of training or anything?
oh, found a topy.
She’s probably worried sick about me, no doubt wanting more than anything to plant a helmet on my head. I wonder what she’d think of my hooves. Big Mac and Granny are probably thinking of us both back home on the farm. His wound is probably patched up good by now. I feel a drop of moisture on my foreleg. It’s not rain. With a sniff I dry my eyes and sigh as the wind sweeps across the grass. DoI already miss them this much?
Do and I need a space between them.
In the prologue is seemed that Cadance was going to command a few units.
Double spaces
Need a space here.
She would make a good Fallout guard.
I must question the logic of throwing former members of the Elements of Harmony into combat, especially the draft of all things. Good first chapter; it was engaging and I got a sense of the nervousness of the characters. The language feels a little off from time to time, but I can't put my finger on what is wrong. It could be the narration being in present tense. I have noticed wording things is a little tougher in that case. I didn't see any instances of tense changing which is very good.
So what era of weaponry are we dealing with here? WW1, WW2, Korean, Vietnam, what?
7135678 I feel im reading a awesome blend of CoD: Ghosts and Black Ops 3 with a dash of Halo Wars.
I feel like this is taken partly from gears of war
>First person, present tense.
i.ytimg.com/vi/t0p2LGjWH5g/hqdefault.jpg
Maybe here, but from what I've seen, a tank is the absolute last place I'd want to be on a battlefield. Especially in an urban environment.
it is safe because it is being hit with metal that wants to kill you and everyone you know so kill the person that is firing the metal l projectile
Stay low , Go fast . Kill first,Die last. One shot, One kill
-Riley,roach A.K.A Ghost
7905382
In later chapters we find out that AB doesn't know how fragile they are