A War

by Comma Typer

Fly by Owl

As the train rolled on in the morning, those who had already escaped the last stage of sleep could see the rising sun, beaming its precious and warm light on to the plenty grass hills and crop fields. Abundant were the farms and their barns populating the scenery, flecked with farmers hard at harvest work—there's a wheat farmer talking with a squad of soldiers who had just stopped their carriage by grain territory.

Inside the train, passengers crowded the carriages with their baggage and themselves. Uneasy was the ambience here, for ponies did not talk for a long time without glancing past the window, expecting something to come but, at the same time, hoping it never will.

On a window seat was the stranger, wearing her cloak and now a pair of yellow goggles which covered her eyes. She was appreciating the beautiful morning outside with its peaceful scenery through the yellow tint.

Looked at her watch.

"I know you, miss!"

She gave a startle and whipped her head to the left.

Star Tracker and Silver Script sat down beside the stranger, letting their huge bags fall to the floor.

"You must be a Bridleway actress!" Star Tracker said, getting a piece of paper out. "A new one, but, if you just sign this autograph and tell me what your name is—"

"I'm not an actress," the stranger said, waving him away with a hoof. "You must've mistaken me for somepony else."

"Then, why the secret get-up?" Silver Script asked.

She looked back out the window. "I'm a reclusive pony. It's the best way to make sure you're not dead when this war ends."

The writer then scooted a little away from her, leaving Star Tracker with the stranger.

"So...what's your name?" Tracker asked. "Could I at least get that?"

"I'm not a famous pony at all," she replied, still not looking at him. "But, if you must know something about me...I'm a pony."

"Well, obviously!"

Tracker then rested on his seat, looking forward and seeing nothing but the back of the next seat and the manes of the passengers there.

"Psst!"

Tracker looked at Script.

Script had a tense expression on his face, his eyes staring at her—in turmoil, almost biting his hoof. He whispered to Tracker's ear, "I don't like the look of that mare."

"Me, too," Tracker said, keeping up a smile, "but, what if she's not that bad? Maybe she's only irritating because she had a bad morning. Ah...we'll miss the days when I had to drink three cups of coffee a day just to get through work—everypony lining up to buy snacks, and being able to rub shoulders with the rich and famous in Manehattan."

He raised his head and looked out the window, too.

"Goodbye, Manehattan! You've been good to me as my father, you've taken care of me as my mother, and you've made me happy as my friend. Until I see you again, stay awake in the light of liberty!"

"Hey!" the pony in the next seat yelled at him. "Some of us are trying to sleep here!"

"Agh!"

With that, he sat down.

"Nice try," Script said, a playful smile on his lips. "We made it so far, and you're going to ruin it because you're homesick within the first five minutes!"

"It's been hours if you don't count the entire city!" Tracker argued, though with a whimsical tone.

The stranger turned her head to the stallions. "You're really not afraid?"

Script and Tracker looked at her. "Well, not too afraid," Script said.

The stranger smirked. "Our forces are retreating on this very front, the Crystal pegasi are within striking range of the city, this very train is closer to them than Manehattan is...and, yet, you act so frivolously."

"Gotta keep looking at the bright side," Tracker said. "It's medically proven that smiles are better for your health than frowns, and not worrying a lot will lead to a longer life."

"So, you think ignorance leads to a longer life?" the stranger asked, raising a brow and smirking.

Tracker slowly nodded. "Yes?"

Script slapped him on the head.

"Ow!"

The stranger retained her smirk. "If I were a Manehattanite, I would gladly drink my dose of coffee every morning."

Script looked at her odd. "What? Why?"

"Efficiency, efficiency, efficiency," she counted on her two forehooves. "Instead of dawdling all day, working to keep Equestria safe every waking hour of the week is something to be proud of. If they write a biography of my life, then it would be filled with pages upon pages of my contributions to society, to this war, and how I had a significant hoof in preserving this kingdom."

Tracker tilted his head. "Aren't you tired?"

"There is no rest for the wizardly, as one Sunburst would like to say..."

"You mean the pony who made artillery?" Script asked, giving her a suspicious eye.

"Yes, Silver Script," the stranger said, smiling.

Script recoiled. "We never met before! How did you know my name?"

Tracker leaned his head toward her. "Does that mean you know my name, too?"

The stranger pushed his head out of the way.

"Ow, again!"

She groaned. "Yes, I do know your names."

Script checked the aisle behind him.

No one paying attention to them. All were busy with their conversations and their naps.

He looked at the stranger. "OK. I don't know who you are, but this is creepy. As far as I know, we never met and Tracker never met you, either."

Tracker nodded, a little alarmed. "It's true."

"So, what's your problem?" Script asked.

The stranger smiled again. "I do not contend with conscientious objectors, for it is impossible to be one."

Script growled, but held a hoof to his head—restraining himself. "Look, miss...do you wanna fight?"

"And then get arrested since you're the aggressor here?" she asked, calm.

Tracker tapped him on the shoulder. "Uh, better keep a level head here! She might call the guards."

Script shoved him to the side, glaring at the stranger. "I cannot, with a good conscience, serve Equestria by killing ponies who can't do anything about fighting us. We have the E.U.P. Guard to protect us from harm, but it doesn't have to kill! Even the very same Sunburst you quoted isn't all so excited about the war—I've read the Canterlot Research issues he wrote for and not once did he stir ponies up to fight but, rather, he said it was a necessary evil he was working to end as quickly as possible."

"Then, you are not really a conscientious objector," the stranger said. "You just don't want to get out and fight."

"I would be stained with the act of violence, miss! A life cut short, and the fault is mine...how could I live with that?"

"Bah!" the stranger exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Do they deserve to live long, anyway?"

"Every life deserves a chance," Script said, standing up from his seat and facing her down. "There's such a thing as redemption. While not every life will get that second chance, once the mages finally break Sombra's spell over them, it will all be over and they will be welcomed to another shot at good times."

The stranger shook her head, smiling at him, her shadowed head standing stark against the sunny day outside flit by."How joyful are you, hm? Everything looks great for you, and, since you are a writer, you seek to show something past a story."

Script remained courageous. "I know what you mean. I do my best to show my values and beliefs through the stories I've written—through the minds of my characters, the conflicts of my setting, and the events of the story itself, even if it looks like a bunch of ponies shooting lasers and fighting over planets. There is a place for those who want to tell it as it is, and there are those who will have the ideas stuck in their readers' heads for decades to come through a good story...and, for me, that is my way of setting up the case for peace."

"Well, I don't care," the stranger said, still sitting down. "What use is a story like yours if I could prove that going against this war is a crime? Then, you will not only be a criminal, but you will be their boss as well—to be punished as he deserves."

"I've got my right to freedom, miss!" Script shouted. "I won't be punished for having free thought!"

A tap on his shoulder.

He turned around.

An armored Flash Sentry with two pairs of hoofcuffs. "Sir, you're under arrest for disturbing the peace."

"What?!" Script turned his head round to the stranger. "But, her!—you should arrest her for starting this in the first place!"

The stranger stood up and levitated a card to the guard. "Don't worry, officer. I didn't know who I was talking to."

Flash Sentry read the card, then hoofed it to the stranger. "Uh...yes, ma'am. He will only be in custody for the remainder of the trip."

Script opened his mouth, shocked at her. "Who are you?!"

The stranger trotted past him and past an astonished Tracker who had been quiet for the rest of the argument.

She gave Script a smirk. "A pony, duh."

The cloaked pony left the seat and trotted down the aisle.

Everyone else watching either her trot away or Silver Script getting arrested.

---

The stranger was alone in the dark storage room, feeling the rumble of the wheels and the sound of the train running.

She lit up her horn, illuminating the carriage.

Everywhere, piles and piles of baggage and luggage. Bags upon bags upon bags, making messy stacks and pyramids of containers containing many things beneath.

The stranger trod the metal floor, being careful to not step on any baggage. She levitated a few backpacks and several sacks.

She smiled.

Levitated a thick brown suitcase out of the pile.

Snapped it open.

Inside, a bunch of clothes and some books.

She levitated the clothes and books out.

Saw a little hole on the bottom.

Levitated a key out of her cloak.

She inserted the key into the hole.

Turned it.

It clicked.

The bottom of the suitcase opened.

Revealing a secret compartment underneath where, resting inside, a line of test tubes filled with fizzy, bubbly liquid was connected to several wires.

She grinned.

The stranger took out two random bags and opened them.

Saw the clothes inside them.

Got a few shirts and hats from those two bags.

Pressed a button on the suitcase with the test tubes.

Closed the secret compartment.

Crammed the new clothes inside the suitcase.

Closed the whole suitcase.

Distributed the first clothes equally into the two bags.

Zipped them up.

Levitated the books inside her cloak.

Lit her horn up more.

Glowing brighter.

Brighter.

Poof!

---

The stranger appeared on the crest of a hill, her cloak flapping in the wind.

Watching the train down there slow to a stop by the train station of a small farming village.

Checked her watch.

"Five...four...three..."

Heard the distant noise of train doors opening.

Saw the line of ponies on the wooden platform about to enter.

"Two..."

Ponies entering.

"One."

Boom!

She jumped to a nearby tree.

Hiding.

Heard screams.

Poked her head around the trunk.

The entire train in flames—a burning ruin. Ponies clambering out of the wreck, escaping the fires singed and scorched. An ambulance carriage was on the way down the main road, ponies who knew first aid brought stretchers and medical kits to the scene, other passengers carried helpless friends and unfamiliar persons out the shattered vehicle—some in pouring tears, others with closed eyes.

She could see the black smoke coming out of the broken train.

"How many warnings must I give you?" the stranger spoke. "Will you slumber to death? I shall not let it be, even if I must yank you out of your sleep, Equestria."

With that, she glowed her horn bright again.

Poof!

---

High up in the Spinning Mountains topped with snow stood one mountain. Neither the tallest nor the shortest in the group, this was Full Stop Mountain, straddling the border of the mountain range. Craggy with trees turning orange, it was a soaring mountain, complete with hazardous cliffs, too.

Tucked away in the deep forest was a cavern.

And in the cavern the stranger went.

Standing upon the rough, rugged surface, she glowed her horn.

In the light, she could see the many cave formations within. Sharp, pointed limestone straws and stalactites hung from above, sleek and blunt heaps of stalagmites rose from below.

Could hear the faint echo of pickaxes striking the cave walls.

Trotted farther.

Saw dim lights.

"Stop!"

It echoed.

The stranger stopped.

A flashlight turned on before her, blinding her.

Covered her eyes.

Felt the soft heat of the light.

"It's you! Sorry for the surprise, but we're getting short-staffed on security. Frost Work thought it was fun to chuck some spears over the border, and he's gone, too—it's just me on guard duty now."

The pony turned down his flashlight, letting the stranger get a better look of the stallion through her yellow goggles.

His shiny eyes, the polygonal sparkle in his eyes.

"You haven't changed much since I last saw you, Varado," the stranger said. "I thought the caves would do something to you, considering you're a Crystal pony in a cave, but...it turns out I'm wrong."

"Don't hold it against yourself," Varado said.

"So..." checked her watch, "what's the progress?"

"The base is in proper working order," Varado reported above the racket of pickaxes against stone. "We're able to raid more than a few Crystal scout squads—got their weapons and all. Armor's impossible, of course, but—" smiled "—here's something I've been waiting to show you."

He put on a black helmet.

Turned up his flashlight.

Aimed it at himself.

The stranger smiled, too. "A replica of Sombra's helmets! It has the mane, the spikes, the breather...everything."

"That's not all!" Varado said past his hefty headgear. "Watch this."

He twitched his left ear.

His eyes glowed a menacing green.

The stranger grinned. "A perfect replica."

"Indeed," Varado said with his glowing eyes. "That's the hard part over. We're currently working on the body armor, and when that's done, we'll be freeing our friends in no time!"

The stranger frowned. "What happened to your rage against the ponies who imprisoned Night Knight?"

Varado turned off his green eye glow and took off his helmet, showing an exhausted smile. "What can I do about it? I can't fight the very ponies who gave me a good place to live in, fed me with free food...yes, I'm still sour over what they did to Night Knight, but..." his ears drooped—that smile departed, "they sounded reasonable enough. I just wish he didn't fire those explosive arrows—none of this would've happened to us."

The stranger gripped him on the shoulder. "Crystal Varado, do you want to prove to Equestria that the Crystal ponies who did get away from Sombra aren't evil?"

Varado nodded, hesitating. "Certainly, but not—"

"Then, fight for Night Knight!" she ordered, her voice becoming a growl. "You say you want to free your friends. Well, start with the friend imprisoned on this side of the line!"

Varado shuddered, looking at his helmet. "But..."

"You aren't evil, but you've got to shape yourself up. You're not a pushover, Varado!"

The Crystal pony closed his mouth, tightened his jaw.

"I'll leave it up to you," the stranger said, turning away from him.

Closer to the surface, closer to the sunlight.

Then, she was outside, back in the deep forest.

---

Under the sunset sky, the Town of Efficiency shimmered with orange light glinting off the roofs. Ponies assigned to the agricultural institutes were just finishing up their work for the day, bundling up grain, potatoes, and cabbages on wagons set to haul for the "points of food collection and consumption".

Starlight trotted away from the block of farmland, wiping her face clean of sweat with a towel. "Whew! Wasn't that great? We're getting lots this season!"

Other ponies nodded in agreement with her. "Yeah! That's gonna show them!" a mare yelled in reply.

She walked to her house at one of the residential blocks.

Opened the door and walked inside.

Saw the same things under the rays of sunset through her windows: her living area with a its carpet, her dining area with its table, and the stairs to her bedroom.

Starlight noticed the piece of paper on the table.

"Sunburst?"

She galloped to the paper.

Floated it to her eyes.

"'If you are reading this, just remember: You will see me once after the sun. The next time you will see me is after the moon.

"'From, not Sunburst.'"

Starlight put the paper down.

"Unusual already," she murmured, looking out the window.

The sun was still up.

"Maybe it's Double Diamond," she said, trotting to the door. "Perhaps he's just outside, ready to tell me some kind of secret or whatever about that pony. As long as he's rational and I'm rational, we'll be fine."

She opened the door again.

Poked her head out of it.

Looked up.

The sun finally disappeared, plunging the sky back into its dark night color.

Looked to the left.

Saw a mysterious figure dash between the houses.

"Hey!"

Starlight galloped out of the house.

Chasing that stranger down.

On the dirt roads.

Out the dirt roads.

Darker, darker each step.

The cloaked stranger glowed her horn.

Disappeared with a poof.

Starlight panting. "This is not funny, whoever you are! You think you can prank us?!"

She grumbled as she trotted back to her town.

Now, it was night.

The lights were on in her town.

---

Sitting against the glare of the carriage's lights.

The stranger looked out the window, seeing the rush of towers and spires, the blur of buildings in classic and medieval styles.

In purple, yellow, and white.

The train stopped at the train station with its walls of windows, its waiting area of benches and clocks and desks plus their clerks.

The stranger stepped out of the train.

The only pony in that carriage.

Others exited the train in the other carriages while the ponies who had waited stepped inside for the trip farther North.

The cloaked pony stood on the platform and studied the view she had before her.

Stone roads in a fog, horse-drawn wagons and carriages wheeling around in a bumbling manner, lack of fashionable ponies on the sidewalks, stores almost vacant and without a flood of customers.

She could smell a weak scent of citrus cologne far-off somewhere.

It was a somber night for the city.

The stranger grinned.

"Canterlot. One more day for you, and then...I'll see..."

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[Sir Budginton]

100 chapters