Rainbow Dash pulled the thin blanket over her head, falling fast asleep on the uncomfortably thin mattress. The previous day had been a horrendously long day of in processing. Endless forms, uniforms to acquire and fit, weapons to draw, and haircuts to get. She really missed her mane, the close-cropped cut she had now just didn’t seem natural. Needless to say, when she was finally able to get into bed at 2330, she was ready for some sleep. She learned a lot of new vocabulary that day, ranging from the designations of the weapons they were issued (plans copied from Jennings’ memories but altered to fit hooves), to the new name of the room she was staying in. She was in a bay, with the rest of her platoon. 20 ponies slept on each side in a column of 10 bunk beds, perfectly aligned. Her bunkmate, the stallion Skybiscuit, made a sensible prediction that they would probably be woken up at 0300, or some other ungodly hour. Needless to say, Rainbow Dash wanted to get as much sleep as she possibly could between now and then.
A small, metallic device clattered across the floor. Dash would soon learn that this device was referred to as a ‘flashbang grenade.’
Brilliant light. Darkness. Ringing. Confusion. Where is the ground? Rainbow Dash fell out of her bed painfully, answering the final question, but was still reeling from the detonation. She struggled to regain her composure… and sight.
“Wake the fuck up!” Jennings came kicked the door open, storming into the bay with three other ponies. Each had a ‘smokey bear’ pulled down tightly over their heads, so that each interaction was like talking to an eyeless demon.
“Get on line, right now!”
“What are you doing? Get on line!”
“Stay out of my killzone! What are you doing, huh? You think you’re special?”
“Oh Celesetia, look at this pony right here! She thinks she’s special! Just fuckin’ prancing through the killzone like it’s no big deal. Go on, say it. You think you’re better than us, right?”
“Uh-”
“Just say it! You obviously do, or you wouldn’t be in my killzone. You know what? Screw it, start pushing.”
“Oh, you’re just going to stand there, and let your battle buddy do pushups? Hey, I’ve got an idea. As the president of the ‘let’s screw my battle buddies over’ club, why don’t you lead the platoon in pushups?”
“What are you waiting for, start pushing!”
“You’re in my killzone again! Do you not see your buddies pushing over there? Go on, join them. Get out of my killzone! Get! Out! Of my! Fucking! Killzone! You’re still here! Move!”
“So you’re just going to stand up and walk away? No, screw that, get back here! Push! Now move! You stood up again! Push and crawl at the same time!”
“Everyone outside! Form up outside! Four ranks, go! Move, move move move!”
“Hey, Trooper! Did you just touch me?”
“No excuse, Drill Sergeant!”
“Damn right there’s no excuse. Get outside quickly, before I lose my mind. Go!” The trooper scampered at speeds he had never thought possible. The group converged on the pavement outside, mass chaos erupting as they all fought for their designated place. Bickering arose as the terrifying Drill Sergeants looked on in disdain. The Troopers fought with each other to gain proper alignment until the Drill Sergeants interdicted with remedial PT. The Platoon alternated between a small assortment of exercises, all relatively basic and surprisingly painful. After they 1000th repetition of iron crosses, they mercifully switched over to pushups, continuing on for another 100 reps. Dash’s muscles ached in ways she wasn’t aware were physically possible as she stood up, praying for the end. Her relief would come after ten minutes of squatting. Drenched in sweat, the exhausted Troopers moved into formation with a new-found haste. Dash stole a glance at the clock. She had to look again, staring in disbelief. The luminescent face shone 0057 down upon them. This was going to be a long day.
“Right face!” The harsh voice of the drill sergeant called out. They platoon jogged out towards the PT field, about to begin their only prescribed PT session of the day.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
For the first time in the past six weeks, Dash was extremely thankful for the bulky, black body armor that all the Troopers wore. While it took a long time for them to adjust to the added bulk, by now they barely noticed the additional weight and girth, able to perform remarkable physical feats without restraint. But right now, Dash’s motionless body was just thankful for the heat regulation built into the suit.
Condensation dripped from the freezing metal surface of her SR 99D-S2 sniper rifle, indicative of the almost freezing temperatures they operating in. Dash and her spotter settled into their respective positions, preparing themselves for the wait.
“Distance, 3244 meters.”
“3244,” Dash repeated, making adjustments on the scope.
“Adjust 1 mil dot right for wind.”
“1 mil dot.” Their conversation was kept to a minimum, making sure that adjustments for the Coriolis Effect were taken into consideration, as well as humidity, temperature, gravity, cross wind, and a multitude of other factors to make sure the round landed precisely where Dash wanted it to. The duo sat stock still in the freezing, wet weather, waiting for the rest of their team to arrive.
During the last few weeks, squads had been preparing for this final exercise, pitting all the squads against each other, from all four platoons. A total of 16 squads were operating on their own in the training ground, running missions against each other and against the Cadre. During their last infiltration, they had heard one of the opposing squad members discuss this cache of information that was supposedly the final mission they had to complete before ‘winning’ the exercise. At that moment, they discovered that the opposing squad had acquired significant amounts of heavy weaponry, and Dash’s squad had opted to retreat with the information they had gleaned. Now they were launching their own attack on the objective, hoping to beat the opposing squad to the ‘final mission.’
Dash watched through the scope as the green outlines of her squad crept through the grass as slowly and quietly as possible. Dash keyed her mic.
“Squad Leader, spotted three hostiles, likely more inside. Haven’t seen Thunder Squad, yet. Over,” she said in reference to the squad who they had gleaned the intel from.
“Roger, keep an eye on the treeline. Watch for movement, over.”
“Wilco. Out.”
Dash kept her overwatch position, scanning the objective. The objective was a small building complex in the middle of a field of tall grass, bounded on all sides (about 200 meters away) by a forest. Dash herself sat about halfway up a series of major hills, providing just enough height to get a good view of the objective. The squad was about 50m away from the building complex when Dash keyed the mic again.
“Stop, stop, stop. I’ve got eyes on Thunder Squad at the edge of the clearing. Looks like they’re emplacing a machine gun, and have two rocket launchers. Don’t see anypony with a sniper, but there are definitely a lot of BRs and SMGs.”
“Dash, I’m open to suggestions, over.” Dash scanned the area with her weapon, weighing the options.
“I’d wait until Thunder Squad begins their assault, then finish off the weakened victor. If you can keep moving and stay out of sight, do that. Get to cover as safely as possible, over.” The sinewy green silhouettes crept forward again, each hugging the ground with a newfound fervor. Dash’s scope picked up a burst of light, followed by a detonation of red paint a few seconds later as the rockets from Thunder Squad opened up on the entrenched Cadre. Red paint covered the exterior of the structure from the onslaught brought on by the turret, while far more precise fire from Thunder Squad’s BRs rained down upon the Cadre. The Cadre valiantly returned fire, but were soon overwhelmed by sheer quantity of incoming rounds. All seven of the Cadre were ‘killed’ while Thunder Squad only lost two of its eight members. Dash’s squad was only eight meters out. They could make it.
There was more raucous gunfire as Thunder Squad cleared the complex, searching high and low for the ‘intel’ that would let them dial up the correct frequency to end the war games and declare Thunder Squad the victors. The rest of Dash’s squad crossed the final ground in a crawling sprint as soon as Thunder disappeared inside. They took up positions on the corners of the buildings two sides of the objective, waiting for the signal. The Thunder Squad Leader emerged from one of the buildings, holding a folder high up in the air, and beckoning the radioman over.
“Fire.” Dash’s round sliced through the air, cleanly impacting the pony in the back of the head, locking the entirety of his armor in a simulated death. The folder flew from his hooves, landing in the dirt. Dash adjusted aim, squeezing the trigger a second time. The radioman dropped, taking the round full in the chest. Thunder Squad ducked for cover as the rest of Dash’s squad opened up a heavy volley of fire, covering three of the ponies in a thick layer of red paint. The last member of the squad ducked away, taking a round to the leg. Launching into the air, the survivor flew towards the squad shotgun at the ready in a last-ditch attempt to take out as many as she could before she took another round. She immediately received a magazine of M7S to the face.
The Squad Leader sprinted over, grabbing the folder from where it lay on the ground. He nervously punched in the frequency, following the directions on the sheet nervously, expecting at any time to receive contact and get wiped out like he had done to Thunder. He dove for the ground in surprise when Dash fired two shots at an approaching squad. No need for anypony to interrupt her SL. Approximately 10 minutes later, everypony got a call on the radio. The exercise was over. Dash stood up, hoisting her rifle over her head in a victory pose. She honestly didn’t care who had won, she was just glad she would be getting some sleep now that she was graduating.
A/N: I apologize for any terrible writing that may have occurred. Crazy schedule this week, even crazier next week. (Hence the brevity of the chapter.) I will be very surprised if I post anything on schedule next week. Right now, my goal is just to survive next week, let alone do any fun writing.Next week I have a 500 point test (courses are 1000 points) in two separate classes (the tests happen to be on the same day. Yay.) I also have a paper to write, a project to complete and present, a Math problem set, Russian test (much smaller than the other tests, though), Russian presentation on Stalingrad, an Econ presentation. Yup. It’ll be a fun week.
The next chapter is probably going to be the second to last chapter, maybe third to last. I’m getting to the end of the planned story arc. Not that I’m running out of things that could possibly happen, but I’m trying to finish the story before Halo 4 drops for two reasons: one, because I’ll be playing H4 and not writing, and two, because I’m considering a sequel that takes up where this leaves off but integrating it with the Halo 4 campaign.
Also, I looked up the Halo timeline and realized my story doesn’t fit very well. Drat. Should have thought ahead better. If I ever rewrite it, I’ll fix it, but don’t have time to go back and do that now. Until then, accept that this story does not fit into the canon timeline.
Not rainbow dashes mane its so cool and now it's gone
I do not envy you on your upcoming week's work load. Sounds like it is going to suck royally. Good luck to you though.
Oh no! The end of the story!
1437837 I wish. West Point makes you take at least 17, I believe. The average course load here is 20-22 credit hours. Most people graduate with 150-170 credit hours, and since I'm a Applied Mathematics major also taking system engineering courses, I'll have my schedule completely filled.
no
What a wake up call.
This takes me back to boot camp.
1439540 That was the intent. Damn, looking back at it I really wish I had edited this chapter. Really bad writing.
1440381
Yeah it was kind of like shit hitting the fan.
But good story though
Just one question...where the HELL did the ponies get all of that tech?
I'm guessing the ponies are Extremely good at mimicking tech. advances.
God this reminds me so much of when I was in basic. Nostalgia. Lol
The got guns ? They got F***ing guns!
Yeah, I've stopped. I've been a Halo fan since CE came out, and just... No... Here is a list of everything wrong with this whole situation. All of it has probably been said in the past but I just have to say it.
- Why is no one shocked? The Military council seems to be the most rational fucking people in Equestria by the sounds of it. /NO ONE/ is shocked about this? At least not until he single handily kills 10 Covenant on his own. I'll give it to you, there is a /chance/ that he could do it, so yeah, I'll give that battle too you.
- He can magically escape anything? Like, IDK about you, but if I had an alien in my "Possession" that guy would be under 24/7 watch with armed guards facing him at all times. I don't know what he is capable of! All I know is he came from the sky with technology I have ever seen before.
- What the hell Shining Armour? I don't care who you are, or where you are from. If you are a soldier, and you meet another soldier who tells you a story of a battle he's fought, and all the comrades who have died, you don't tell him he is a bad soldier for that. Like, that is a huge no no. Not even in a dickish way, as in that is wrong. Irredeemable. Like, you could have done anything to make that whole scene make so much more sense. It would have made more sense if when Jay said Shining Armour didn't know what he was up against, Shining armour said something along the lines of "The Equestrian Military is a force to be feared. Obviously, one better trained than yours" but never flat out say "You and all your dead friends were bad soldiers".
- Jay defeats a Sangheili in a fist fight not wearing his armour or with an actual weapon. I don't know if you have read the books, but it is mentioned multiple times that the only advantage /SPARTANs/ have over Sangheili is their agility and speed. In a contest of raw strength, Sangheili win. Now, replace that SPARTAN wearing full MJOLNIR with an ODST wearing a dress suit. Jey should have died, rightfully so, with no shame, because it was a losing fight. Jay would have just died. Sangheili are faster, stronger, and way more adapted to killing than any ODST because it is their entire culture. WAR is their culture. War is not human culture. This fight was an excellent example of what would have happened, aside from Jey not being turned to paste by that Sangheili and Equestria would have fallen
- How does Equestria have what could equate to the entire UNSC Arsenal just from what Jay had on his drop pod? Did he have an SRS? As far as we the readers are aware, he had an M7S and a Sidearm.
- You obviously don't know how far 100m is. 10m? Realistic. 100m? That takes minimum 9.58 seconds to run, and that's the damned world record. I can run that in 13.8. How did this Sangheili throw what equates to a horse about the size of a pony to what is max effective range of a pistol by a remarkable shooter in a combat situation. Make up your mind. Are Sangheili absolute beasts, or are they weak enough to be taken out by a human. That or ponies weigh fucking nothing and have supreme aerodynamics.
- There is more, but I notice you don't exactly answer comments asking questions like these, and that you just ignore them. I feel these are all valid questions. I would understand if people were just shitting on you. Trolling you, telling you that you're bad for the sake of saying you are bad. So, as one Halo Enthusiast ((Who is guilty of writing a bad Halo MLP crossover)) to another, could you please answer some of these questions? The story is complete, but I see you comment quite often. I would legitimately like to know.
I'll mentioned the story feels real rushed, but that's been beaten like a dead horse so I really don't know what else I have to add to that argument. I have some good suggestions for your writing, things I have learned and utilized in my own writing over time but unless you actually want to hear them ((You can show me by responding)) I won't bother adding them to this. I gave this a good solid try, but I just couldn't keep waving away the mistakes.
At the end of the day man, you do you. If this was going to be a one-shot kinda thing and you aren't going to write any more Fanfics then farewell and I wish you well on your future endeavors regardless of topic. If you are going to continue writing, I strongly encourage that you take a long think about some of the things you do in your writing and reflect on the criticism of those who offer them to you. Every chapter is a chance to improve yourself, every comment, good or bad is a learning experience. I remember my training well enough, but what I remember most was when I did something wrong, my instructors were fucking fast to tell me I was wrong and I fixed it real fucking fast. If there is a single lesson to be taken from Basic, it's learn from your mistakes. It could make or break you.
Wait they already developed guns and odst amor! Got hand it to ponies, they pretty quick at reveres engineering technology if given a chance. Lord help us if they had access to a spartan and spartan armor