• Published 13th Aug 2012
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Five Weeks Till Nightfall - DualThrone



After a decade of war, the tipping point approaches...

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Four And Three: Barren, Part 2

“There’s a whole host of legends about where the changelings came from. One theory is that we’re some variant of a Tartarus creature called an incubus or a succubus; another is that a massive magical accident took a race of somewhat intelligent insects and uplifted them to appear to be ponies. My personal favorite is that idea that changelings are a sister race to alicorns but that we were corrupted somehow. But regardless of where we came from, the changelings were a race that could only be nourished by the subtle magical essence of love. Food and drink were a pleasure, but did nothing to keep a changeling alive. The best way to feed and thrive was to use shapeshifting to replace one partner in a loving relationship and feed off the connection for a time. We would then then restore the real pony without their beloved being any the wiser. There were occasional instances where the changeling would develop something like an addiction to the love of a particular pony and stay too long but it… ended badly, usually with the victim’s heart giving out or a suicide; the feeding was, after all, parasitic.

“I replaced my mother as Queen during a time of gradual famine and unrest. It was becoming increasingly difficult to find food as more and more ponies began living in large communities where a great number of ponies knew each other and made it too hazardous to stay with a single source for more than a few days. Younger changelings, which included myself, were also coming to resent the fact that where ponies and every other race had access to as much food as they needed, changelings had to sneak around and steal morsels. This discontent didn’t have a target at first but then, we learned of the upcoming marriage of one Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and Shining Armor of the Celestial Royal Guard. It was a perfect opportunity, I decided, to seize control of a very large source of food in a single fell swoop. Replacing Cadenza was simple enough; she was a kind, trusting soul and easily deceived. Being young, I wasn’t quite aware of the intense and narcotic nature of the love between betrothed and it was like… drinking pure energy. This, combined with the fact that I was a little bit of a spoiled royal brat, meant that a patient, soft-spoken, caring Cadence became short-tempered, petty, and mean. Fortunately for me, most ponies wrote this off as wedding stress. Unfortunately for me, the only pony who didn’t was a young, prodigiously intelligent unicorn named Twilight Sparkle.”

“Twilight has always been almost appallingly obsessed with details,” Night commented sympathetically, lounging close enough that one of her wings occasionally brushed over Chrysalis’ side. “And, as you no doubt know now, being foalsat by Cadence was one of her most treasured memories, and Princess Cadence is still well-known for her warmth and common touch.”

“I was careless,” Chrysalis acknowledged. “Like I said, young love is intense and narcotic for a race that feeds on love. Looking back, I’m still amazed that only one pony found me out; I was astonishingly reckless, acting nothing at all like the warm, kind mare I replaced. It was only Twilight that noticed something amiss and became such a problem that I thoughtlessly trapped her in the same place as Cadence. The two of them working together managed to expose me and although I made a fight of it, even overpowering Celestia herself temporarily while I was riding high on the love I’d absorbed from Shining Armor, we were expelled from Canterlot by Cadence. Her special talent was related to love and let her aim her power at the only creatures that relied on love as a food source.

“Pure chance led me to collapse, in the guise of a white unicorn, on the doorstep of a pony named Evergreen, who was a forest herbalist and a hermit who was uncomfortable being around other ponies, but was also decent and good. I was nursed back to health on his compassion but the connection was very different: he cared for me. Granted, he thought I was a white unicorn named Cee, but it was still love directed at me, not another pony I was pretending to be. Normally, the feeding we do can drain and sicken the victim over time; this time it didn’t.”

Chrysalis took a breath, her eyes getting misty. “Evergreen was salvation to me, to all changelings. His goodness initially saved my life and his love demonstrated something to me that I hadn’t known before: a connection of mutual love can be sustained. It can, in fact, allow a changeling to live out their entire lives feeding from a single pony and then, feeding from the love of her children and if she’s lucky, her grandchildren. When I discovered some of the other survivors of Cadence’s spell, I was overjoyed because I could offer my people something more than a pariah existence.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Verde smiled. “So how’d this go over with Princess Celestia?”

“It… didn’t,” Chrysalis admitted. “Not at first. By this time, Evergreen knew what I was and even who I was and joyfully, it changed nothing at all. But we both realized that changelings couldn’t come back. Ordinary ponies, and yes even the Princesses, couldn’t know that so many changelings had survived and that they were gathering around their queen practically in the heart of Equestria. So…”

“…the changelings had to die,” Astra finished with a grin. “Oh man… pulling the wool over the eyes of both Princesses at once? I can’t imagine how you managed it.”

Chrysalis grinned toothily. “I was a born actor, Astra, as are all my people. It’s a necessity, being able to appear to be someone totally different than the person you are, although in recent years it’s been much less so. That said, the charade didn’t continue very long.” She sighed. “I’d never given much thought to the implications of what I’d done to Celestia. I never understood how much my temporary victory insulted and frightened her, and how it’d frightened everyone else. While Celestia didn’t know that I’d begun gathering my changelings in numbers, she did manage to find me—and brought the six Bearers with her.”

“Uh-oh…”

Chrysalis nodded vigorously. “Precisely. Let me tell you, it took some real fast talking, and Evergreen being wonderfully stubborn about getting out of the way, to avert being disintegrated by the Elements. But whatever else Celestia and the Bearers are, they’re not stupid or ignorant; even Pie comprehended the danger of revealing the changelings, even to close friends outside the tight circle of the Princesses and the Bearers.”

“And that happened about forty years ago,” Night supplied. “That was when Celestia began pushing the nobles towards recognizing changelings as equals and full Equestrian citizens.”

“Yes, and while the nobles were squabbling and fighting and being well, nobles, I had my first child.” She beamed. “The first child born to a changeling-pony couple in longer than anypony, even Celestia, can remember. I eventually had five, all told, and… and it was glorious and heavenly. Immersed in an endless ocean of the love of my mate, my children, the friends I made, and eventually the mates of my children and then the innocent love of grandchildren. Evergreen got to see the oldest reach his fifth birthday before he passed on.”

“So that’s what you meant with all that talk about a new type of changeling and the rest.” Astra observed. “And also why there’s a close relationship between the Princesses and you, and why you’d have abandoned a cramped hive for open-air cities: now that you’d discovered the possibilities of this new way of getting love, you could afford to be out in the open, building cities, having ponies live among you.”

“Ponies and zebras,” Chrysalis corrected her. “This is the only place in Equestria where zebras are really safe from the maniacal Ministry you work for.”

“If zebras wanted to be safe, they shouldn’t have started a war then tried to murder Princess Celestia,” Astra snorted. “The Ministry is the least of what they deserve.”

Chrysalis paused in her narrative and eyed Astra. “‘They’? Not ‘we’?”

“I’m not a zebra,” Astra shrugged. “So no, no ‘we’ is involved.”

“You’re not.” Chrysalis looked her over before her eyes turned towards Verde. “Is your companion delusional, Colonel?”

“No, just…”

“I am not delusional, Chryssy,” Astra growled. “My zebra father is a miserable bastard. He just plain does not give a crap about me; hell, he’s only minimally polite towards Verde here because Aunt Viridian keeps his plot out of a mind-rape room. I mean, he’s rude and unpleasant towards Aunt Silver Rose, the most sweet-natured pony I’ve ever known. And why? Because we’re all mares, and in Zoast’s little world, mares are the inferior gender.”

“So it goes all throughout childhood,” Astra continued as Chrysalis and Night watched her with genuinely shocked expressions. “I get high marks in school, and I get a hug from my cousin and a little something special for dinner from my mom and Dad doesn’t give a shit. Some bullies give me a bloody nose, and my cousin kicks their plots and my mom gives me a hug to make it all better, and if Dad can bother to look up from his bucking paper, he asks me why I have to make him ashamed to have a weak daughter. I go join the Goddess-damned army in the middle of a war and he doesn’t even fucking say good-bye. His own daughter, off to war, maybe going to get killed, and that miserable bastard still can’t find it within him to care.”

Chrysalis gave her a look of sad sympathy. “Astra, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, Chrysalis, it means the world. Seriously, it does.” Astra gave her a quick smile. “But anyway, quick contrast of that with my mom. I get high marks, she practically squeals with pride. I get beat up, it’s all I can do to stop her from thrashing some bully colts. I hook up with my nominal cousin, she’s happy for me. I go off and join the army, I need a crowbar to make her stop hugging me. My mother, my pony mother, loves me and treats me like she loves me. Accordingly, no matter what I look like, no matter what I sound like, I’m a pony and am not a zebra.”

“That is a very unfortunate situation,” Night sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that your father is such a cruel and narrow stallion, Astra. I suppose it doesn’t help at all to emphasize that he’s not the only kind of zebra in Equesria.”

“After more than twenty years of suffering under his hooves, no, it really doesn’t.” Astra blew out a frustrated breath. “At any rate, Chrysalis, you were in the middle of a story and I interrupted.”

“The rest isn’t important,” Chrysalis replied. “All that matters to me and most others is that where we were once Equestria’s enemies by necessity, I’m now close to the Princesses and the changelings are full citizens of Equestria.”

“Your Majesty, both you and Droso alluded to an agreement with the Dual Thrones that the Ministry of Morale stay out, and that your people will take care of your own security,” Verde mentioned.

“There is such an agreement, yes.”

“And you just mentioned that you have a zebra population, as the rest of Equestria does.”

Chrysalis smiled. “You want to know how we manage our security. Frankly, we do it by identifying zebra agents and letting them work, albeit unknowingly, for us.”

Verde canted her ears curiously. “How?”

“Quite a bit of watching by changelings who’re very practiced in rapidly and constantly changing their disguise,” the changeling queen replied. “The same agent can follow a zebra for days without being identified because they never wear the same face twice. And so we watch. We see what interests them and determine why. We see where they go, what they do, who they talk to, what they take ‘family photos’ of, and do not interfere; spies are, after all, just looking for information and by learning what information they want, we can find out quite a bit about future zebra plans. Their infiltrators are… dealt with. Fortunately, it’s rarely been necessary to kill and never been necessary to hoof them over to Mare Pie’s unicorns.”

“Any particular trends in their spying lately?”

“Quite a bit of interest in the isolated coasts near the old hive,” Chrysalis said. “We’re still not sure why. A coastal gun battery isn’t a terribly valuable asset, nor is a tiny tapping station or some moldering caves. Since they don’t use locomotives to the extent that Equestria does and couldn’t transport them here anyway, there’s no reason for them to have any interest in that stretch.”

“A diversionary attack to take pressure off of the situation at Stalliongrad?” Astra suggested.

“We haven’t had a chance to consider that in detail yet,” Chrysalis admitted. “Stalliongrad, and the prelude in Colthav, are such recent developments that we’re still trying to figure out how they fit into the larger strategic constellation. Granted, they’ll have major effects, but we don’t know them yet.”

Verde’s brow furrowed. “I take it that means that there’re no preparations in place for an invasion?”

“None,” Chrysalis told her. “Consider the situation of my kingdom, Colonel Tin: we’re highly important as a source of resources but there’s no practical way for the zebras to make a landing anywhere near them. Our terrain is ideal for mining and rock farming but is so arid that we’ve developed high-speed trains to cross it because there’re no build-in areas between Lepi Mountain and the resources. The only feasible landing places are protected by shore batteries, but even if these fell, the zebras would require a massive over-water logistical pipeline to carry the invasion to any place of strategic value—and Equestria has attained virtually unchallenged admiralty.”

“I appreciate your confidence, Queen Chrysalis, but Stalliongrad was an unlikely target as well,” Verde pointed out. “Saint Petersbuck is on a major rail and river hub. Colthav is an extremely defensible position that gives its owner strategic command over every major transportation line in the entire region. The Dneighper presents a natural defensive barrier that acts as a permanent secure line of retreat. Stalliongrad? Big city, lies on a major albeit not critical river, some rail, some industry, but its defenders will always be able to suck entire armies into a battle embrace, and keep them there until other forces pivot into their flanks and slaughter them. Which, as it happens, is precisely the fate that befell the zebras.”

“And yet after the rush to Colthav, the zebras would have been mad not to try and seize that defensive bastion for themselves,” Chrysalis countered.

“The salient was the perfect target,” Verde snorted with disgust. “Damn fluke that we spotted the sabotage of the switches and rails before trying to rush the armored trains in; it could have been an utter disaster. As it was, Ruby Pommel’s armored divisions are out of play until Solar Forge can finish a refit.”

“Hard to believe that a gangly little unicorn mare like that would end up being so scarily good at putting tactical armored theory into practice,” Astra smiled.

“It’s a damn miracle she didn’t get herself killed.” Verde snorted but with a little grin. “Still, it goes to show that appearance isn’t the best way to judge on what somepony can do.”

“Were you two at the battle?” Chrysalis looked curiously between them.

“Yeah,” Astra replied. “We were there. See, she isn’t carrying it now but Verde here has this fantastic precision rifle and I do a pretty good job as a spotter…”

<<One Month Ago, Colthav Saliant>>

“Calling shot, officer.”

“Officer acquired.”

“Range is nine hundred twenty meters, wind is eight hour-clicks from the northwest.”

“Drop and windage dialed. Call trigger.”

Astra paused for a moment, studying the target through her field glasses. “OK, officer is turning… turning… OK, clear. Pull.”

The half-zebra mentally braced herself, canting her ears downwards in anticipation, before Verde’s 11.43 millimeter rifle barked with enough volume to be felt and in her field glasses, the zebra stallion’s chest cavity was decorating the soldiers unfortunate enough to be in the radius as hydrostatic pressure blasted bits of bone, gore, and ample blood all over them. “Shot is clean and fatal. Nice one, cuz.”

“Thanks.” Verde leaned away from her scope to rub her eyes as Astra briefly glanced away from her spotting scope to grab a bite from the rations kit she had open on the table beside her. It had been like this the last couple of days: after the initial rush and the significant mutual casualties, both sides of the battle around the Colthav salient had settled into their respective positions: the Equestrians near a natural defensive perimeter where a seasonal dry riverbed created a natural trench network, the zebras in the ruins above. Their role from the beginning had been fairly simple and conventional: find an elevated position and sow disruption with precise destruction of equipment and the command structure of the Zebrican infantry that had arrived shortly after their combat automatons to brace their position. More importantly, however, their job was to keep a close eye on zebra movements, a necessity when the zebras could get from their lines to Equestrian ones in mere minutes via an approach that was totally shielded by terrain. But getting to the approach required crossing open spaces that a certain sniper and her half-zebra marefriend could see with ease from their sniping platform.

“You’re welcome,” She leaned over and pecked Verde’s cheek. “Wish dying zebras was the only thing I was seeing through this scope.”

Verde snorted, although the quick affection drew a smile. “I know what you mean. Bucking idiot… driving into Colthav without pushing recon forward first. How bad is it?”

“Bad, and getting worse,” Astra replied as she returned to the fisheye lens spotting scope to give her a wide angle on the battlefield below. She and Verde were perched in the bell tower of a school just barely outside the city limits of Colthav—not that there was much of a city to speak of. The last two days had been filled with a fierce attempt by Equestrian artillery batteries to get at the zebra forces that were rolling through, taking full advantage of the shelter the ruined buildings offered to make for the rear supply area. Thus far, the barrages had been ineffective and far worse, the limited amount of mechanized armor the Equestrians had available was divided between the heavy ones that had been gutted by anti-machine weapons, and a group of lighter vehicles that posed no real threat to the heavy combat automatons the zebras had brought up. As a consequence, Fifteenth Light was staying away from the battlefield to conserve strength in case they needed to cover a retreat.

“So, a typical Monday,” Verde quipped. “It’s like the drill sergeant said in basic: the only easy day was yesterday.”

“No, today’s more like a Thursday,” Astra replied. “Mondays are when things are just going to Tartarus all day long out of sheer cussedness. Thursdays are when good ideas turn out badly.”

“True,” Verde agreed. “So, call another shot?”

“I don’t see any infantry worth putting a bullet into,” Astra told her. “If you’ve got some API in your saddlebag, there’s an automaton that’s unsheathing missiles on a predictable schedule.”

“I love the zebra death machines, don’t you?” Verde laughed as she floated an armor-piercing incendiary cartridge out of her small shooting satchel. “Scarily murderous when the task is straightforward enough, dumb as a sack of rocks when they’re idling.” Astra heard her pull the bolt closed and rotate it to lock position. “OK, call the shot.”

“Calling combat automaton Archer Shield.”

“Archer Shield acquired.”

“Range is twelve hundred fifty with winds…” Astra stopped as she caught a flash of cloud-dimmed light off polished metal. “Wait one, possible new call.”

“What’s the word, gorgeous?”

Astra couldn’t stop herself from giggling a little at that. “C’mon, Verde… we’re not getting our flanks kicked hard enough for inappropriate come-ons. I just saw some movement in the…” More flashes of light—quite a few more, in fact, and Astra trailed off. “…oh bollocks. Verde, I think they’re rolling into place for an assault. Drop zoom and take a look at the general store, the one that’s still got an intact wall facing us.”

“Dropping… dropping… OK, I see it.” Verde paused as she looked over the same thing Astra was seeing: first a few, then a dozen, then several dozen of the combat robots with the thick armored plate to deflect attacks rolling into place, forming a two-across line with thickly-barded zebra infantry following on. “Well, shit. Hoof me that radio, will you?”

Astra felt for the small box and slid it over to Verde as she continued to watch the assault forces assembling. One of the fascinating things about how Colthav was situated was that one faced the same problem no matter which way your assault was rolling: fairly narrow canyons that opened into very wide spaces which invited punishing crossfire. The zebras had responded by constructing robots that carried an extremely thick plate of armor in front of them that could deflect the largest high-velocity gun Equestria had; that the ‘Mace Shield’ models were designed specifically for the situation around Colthav was just one of many things that military intelligence had totally dropped the ball on. Subsequently, the only thing that had proven able to deal with the special models was arcing artillery fire from atop the cliffs close to the schoolhouse—and the extremely high-powered rifle of a certain unicorn sharpshooter in concert with her half-zebra cousin. Between their massive frontal shield and an appropriate counterbalance in back, the rest of the machine had tinfoil armor and ordinary bullets could shoot straight through it and take out the too-big-to-miss engine in the lower half.

However, previous attempts had been nothing but machines, and only in small numbers; one raided with machines but when it was time to attack for real and take land, it still came down to flesh-and-blood soldiers with their body armor and small arms. “Manticore Actual, this is Colonel Verde Tin, Special Forces, Grey Battalion,” Verde said in the clipped pronunciation she adopted when speaking over a radio. “I’m seeing a large assault force of mixed Mace Shields backed by infantry and with Archer Shields in support. Estimate that they’ll commence movement shortly based on dispositions. Do you copy?”

“Manticore Actual copies, Colonel Tin,” a stallion’s voice with a heavy Trottingham accent replied tiredly. “Tell us something we don’t know.”

“That would be wholly inappropriate, Manticore Actual,” Verde replied in as grave of voice as she could manage. “So where’s the Fifteenth? They should be standing by to help with evac when that assault line hits us.”

Astra could somehow feel the stallion roll his eyes. “Ask Scarlet Knife’s little golden filly. Bucking unicorns…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Verde asked, a slight tightening around her eyes the only sign of her annoyance.

“General Pommel has seen fit to run off with all our armor and I don’t know where the fuck she’s gone,” he growled. “Bucking little miss know-it-all and her damn armor theories…”

“So in other words, Manticore Actual, you have such poor control of the battle that you lost your armor command adjutant?” Verde demanded sharply. “Lost her and all our bucking armor?”

“Excuse me, Colonel, but …”

“Hang the difference in our ranks, Manticore Actual!” Verde interrupted him. “You’ve just got done telling me that there’s an armored force about to break its steel boot off in our backsides and you don’t know where your own armor commander is! In what reality should I not be yelling at you?”

There was dead silence from the other end and Verde sighed. “Fucking incompetent… dammit, dammit, dammit. Alright then, is there anypony else on this channel? Preferably somepony with news that isn’t bad?”

“Don’t have news for ya, Colonel, but I’d appreciate an accurate report on the position of those incomin’ Mace Shields,” a mare’s voice replied.

Astra consulted her field glasses. “Advance elements are starting into the canyons,” she reported.

“Capital!” The mare responded when Verde passed the news along. “Do what you can with your position, Colonel, and tell Manticore Actual to buck off; I sent him at least five dispatches explaining my intent.”

“General Pommel, I presume.”

“You presume correctly, Colonel,” Pommel replied. “If they’re just starting through the canyons into assault position, we’ve got them right where we want them. Do what you can, Colonel, but if they overrun the river bed, get out of there. Copy that?”

“Copy that,” Verde agreed. She then put down the radio and leaned into her scope, her horn lighting briefly to click the zoom upwards. “Astra, whatcha got for me?”

“Same Archer Shield as before,” Astra replied. “Best target of opportunity, hell if I know why it’s still on standby.”

Verde thought a moment, eyes narrowing as she watched the Archer go through the cycle again: raise its four-cell missile tubes, uncap them, move them left to right, cap and return to position. They’d been sniping at zebra targets for the last couple of days; by now, someone had to have a rough idea of what they could see and hit… and the Archer was too vulnerable, too easy, too obvious, and had been in the open far too long for it to be anything but an invitation. Even more than that, though, the zebra infantry were skirting around it. It was subtle, she’d give them that, but their movement strongly suggested that, even if only in the back of their minds, they fully expected the Archer to explode at any moment and didn’t want to be near it when it did. “Give me something else. A target begging that hard is a target that wants me to shoot it, and I don’t like shooting things that want to be shot.”

“Alright then.” Astra scanned the field, her eye skipping over the Mace Shields rolling down the canyon with their thickest armor in between Verde and their softer bits, ignoring the Archer Shield that was being curiously eager to get shot… then she grinned as a vehicle that looked markedly like a slimmed-down turtle emerged from the city. “OK, I’ve got a tanker at eleven from the Archer Shield and running fast. This one’s acting like they very much don’t want you to shoot, thank you kindly, so I think we really want to ruin their entire day.”

“Tanker acquired.”

“Range is… thirteen hundred thirty-five meters, wind is six hour-clicks from west-northwest.”

“Drop and windage dialed. Call trigger.”

Astra paused, waiting for the lumbering vehicle to draw closer to the Archer Shield playing target dummy. I’ll bet they didn’t expect us to shoot near it, but not at it. “Pull.”

Although it was tempting to fire API into the actual fuel compartment and possibly ignite it, the proper protocol for destroying a vehicle that could be destroyed by heavy rifle fire dictated taking out the engine block first. Naturally, the cab window shattered as Verde’s first shot took out the driver. Her bolt cycled and an ordinary full-metal round punched through the fuel compartment. Another cycle, a breath, and a plume of flame bloomed from the side of the pressurized coal oil container.

“All shots clean and full-effect,” Astra reported. “You know, the engine block is the normal first target.”

“I’d say ‘bang me’ but…”

“Funny.” Astra grinned a little as she looked across the battlefield, noting the first Mace Shields emerging from the canyons and shaking out into a solid line, fruitless impacts from direct-fire guns perched on the rise near the supply dump that was the zebras’ obvious target visibly deflecting from and sometimes exploding against the impenetrable slabs. “They’re sure taking their time.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Verde grimaced. “It’s not like we can take them out and those first few ventures probably told them that.” Astra heard her trip her radio. “General Pommel, they’re shaking out into line. Do we still have them right where we want them?”

“More than ever,” Pommel replied with a strangely cheerful tone. “Still, get your artillery barking and see if you can use airbursts to deplete the supporting infantry; at this range, nailing the Maces is too much to hope for. Also, do you have a clear look at the inside of the riverbed?”

Astra swiveled her glasses downwards. “Just barely.”

“How close are they to it?”

“I’d estimate… three hundred yards.”

“When they close to one hundred fifty, key to three point seven kilo and tell them that Ruby orders them to commence firing.”

Astra blinked at the conveyed orders from the general and examined the riverbed closer, wondering who exactly she’d be ordering to fire; she hadn’t heard about guns being moved into the natural trench. “Um, copy that.”

“I can hear your spotter’s confusion from here, Colonel,” Pommel chuckled. “As they say, if I can confuse my friends, I’m certain to confuse my enemies. See you in five.”

Verde chuckled as she floated the radio over to Astra. “You heard the mare, my dear spotter. Tell the artillery to start airbursting them and let’s see what the missing General Pommel has planned.”

“Sure, sure, pick on the pony with the field glasses.” Astra accepted the radio and keyed it to the channel for the artillery emplaced around the base of the school. “Hey there, Gunfighter. This is Corporal Astraylzenica Knife, up on the tower with Colonel Tin. I need you to start a regular barrage of airburst shells targeting the advancing line, see if we can’t take out some of their infantry.”

“I don’t got none,” the battery commander drawled in absolute deadpan.

“…you’re kidding…”

“Eeyup,” he agreed. “So, why’re we tryin’ to take out infantry ‘stead of those big heavy armored thingamabobs what’re headin’ towards our line?”

Astra shrugged. “Don’t know. General Ruby Pommel just gave me the message.”

“Well, why dincha say so?” He replied cheerfully. “For those flanks, I’d do just ‘bout anything.” There was a pause and Astra could hear him shouting orders to his gunners in the background. “Hold on to yer eardrums spotter-filly… it’s about ta get loud down there.”

True to his word, barely a moment later the entire school building trembled slightly as the large-bore artillery started firing with a series of teeth-rattling thunderclap roars. Astra watched as the shells burst over the Mace Shields, although she couldn’t tell if they’d had any effect on the infantry taking shelter behind the hulking robots, and kept an eye on the distance between the defile and the oncoming vehicles. In the back of her mind, she registered the distinctive sound of her cousin’s sniper rifle as Verde selected and eyeballed her own targets in lieu of a spotter.

“Hey Astra?”

“Yeah?”

“Check out Colthav.”

“I’m sort of busy watching the riverbed, Verde. Orders from a superior officer and all that.”

“Well, don’t look now but here comes that superior officer,” Verde gave a short laugh. “Driving like a madpony right into their plots.”

“…really?” Astra checked that the advancing shields were still fifty yards away from the line General Pommel had given her before swinging her field glasses upwards to see the town... and stared.

Above the plain where the zebra forces were currently attacking, emerging from the city that the zebras were supposedly securely dug in, the mix of machinegun-carrying scout tanks and howitzer-armed infantry support tanks that constituted Fifteenth Light were swarming like rats from a nest. Somehow, they’d circled behind the city without being stopped and rolled straight through streets that military intelligence was convinced were blockaded with guns and improvised fortifications--which proved that military intelligence was more often than not an oxymoron. The motley crew of light-skinned vehicles barreled through the space at full speed, hosing the burning tanker with fire, guns flaring as they fired at other targets Astra couldn’t see. What she couldn’t miss as the fast tanks careened into the canyons to make the transit down was the tanker being lifted off the ground by the force of its own destruction as a plume of mushrooming flame shot into the sky. Even from nearly a kilometer away, she could see the two halves of the truck flying in two different directions with a cloud of axels, wheels--and a satisfying whump of the Archer Shield bait following the tanker to the scrap heap. With the zebra forces having already set up at the bottom of the approach to the depot, the Fifteenth poured through the canyons like a flash flood, emerging at full velocity at the bottom where the stunned zebra forces were trying to pivot to meet them. Suddenly remembering Pommel’s orders, she keyed up the frequency even as she turned her scope towards the riverbed.

“Hey down there. This is Corporal Astraylzenica, Grey…”

“Do you have orders for me?” An annoyed stallion voice interrupted her.

Astra paused, momentarily miffed. “Ruby orders you to commence firing.”

“Thought so. Thanks for the starting gun, Corporal.” The Mace Armors had begun rotating their giant shields to face the threat from the rear when there was an eye-searing flash that made Astra jerk her head away from the field glasses, then another that made her turn completely away from the window.

“Argh! What the fuck?” Verde snarled.

“The zebra automatons use balefire cores for energy,” the stallion replied, having heard her through the still-live radio. “They go off really bright when you hit them and with the new ‘silver bullet’ rounds the Ministry of Wartime Technology just gave us, we can punch through their frontal armor and the tumbling round will take out the thin skin behind it. But it requires point-blank range.”

“Serious?” Astra could hear the amazement in her cousin’s voice. “All this time, Aunt Scarlet’s been working on a magic bullet to kill these things? And she succeeded? Without anyone knowing about it? I mean, that’s well over a hundred milimeters of high-strength...”

“Verde, can you geek out after you un-burn my eyes?” Astra interrupted, blinking to try and make the brightness of her burned corneas fade, wincing as the brush of her eyelids over her eyes sent a jolt of pain into her head.

“Just a sec, cuz,” Verde said and Astra felt the familiar and pleasant touch of her cousin’s magic brush over her eyes with a simple healing cantrip. “There, better?”

Astra blinked, her vision clearing. “Yeah, thanks.” She treated the emerald-furred unicorn to a peck on the cheek before returning to her spotting scope.

With the barrage of close-range anti-armor rounds from what were clearly heavy guns concealed in the riverbed, the zebra assault was shattered and the systemic obliteration of fighting power had begun. Too stunned to recover in time to stiffen their resistance against the sudden violence, flanked by highly mobile armor on one side and pinned against a trench line and heavy guns on the other, skillful artillery gunners deftly dropping airbursts in the middle of their disorganized ranks, the zebras were utterly routed. Everywhere in her sight, the casual and ordinary horror of war was in full swing. Astra had to turn her head aside when the balefire core of a Mace Shield went up and she returned to her scope to see a dozen infantry sprawled out around it, steaming as the radiation surge flash-cooked them from the inside.
An artillery shell detonated just above the ground, shrapnel shredding dozens of zebras into steaming gore like an outsized anti-personnel mine. Stray shells from a 20mm autocannon ripped the head from one zebra, and disintegrated the forelimb of another. The last in line was left writhing in the dirt, spine ripped in half; hate for zebras aside, Astra mouthed a silent thanks to her cousin as Verde noticed the suffering soldier and removed their head.
One of the heavier tanks, unable to see below the driver’s hatch on the upper glacis plate, rolled over several infantry at once, its tracks momentarily losing their grip as they churned the dirt below into bloody mud, making Astra’s stomach lurch threateningly at the pieces of zebra strewn in its path.

No less violently but with a surgical precision that somehow made it less brutal, Verde picked of officers as the widespread destruction of armored machines exposed them. Astra watched an officer trying to haul a cowering soldier up by the nape of their neck crumple as his head burst like an overripe melon. Another wearing the stripes of a one-star general was struggling as his executive officer tried to drag him out of the line of fire; a moment later, the XO’s head was decorating the general’s uniform as the hole where his heart used to be spurted blood. A captain wearing the distinct red-striped helmet and sleeves of a medic wandered into Astra’s view just barely a dozen yards from the fallen general, helping a hobbled soldier walk. Astra heard her cousin’s rifle bark but didn’t see an impact; she looked over at Verde who moved her eye away from her scope; Verde didn’t actually speak but Astra could hear the icy “no” anyway.

As in any situation where a rout was taking place, the soldiers on the wings were lucky: distance allowed them to see what had happened, realize all was lost, and begin to flee before the slaughter reached them, chased by small arms and cannon fire. In a black comedic note, the last thing Astra spotted before looking away was a vehicle commander, the tracks of his tank having slipped off their road wheels and stranded him, emptying a pistol more or less in the general direction of the fleeing forces.

“Hi Colonel, Corporal,” General Pommel’s voice came over the radio. “Told you I’d see you in five minutes. What do you think of my application of theory to the battlefield?”

“Kicked flank,” Verde replied cheerfully.

Astra leaned back from the scope, took a breath, and let it out. To an observer, it looked all the world like she was simply getting her bearings, but in that breath in and then out, a mental box opened. Into the mental box went zebras being baked from the inside out, an artillery shell shredding zebras into fragments of flesh, the treads of a tank grinding soldiers into gore-strewn mud, and the dying zebra being put out of his misery. The horrors settled in among thousands of their kind and the box was shut again by the time she let the breath out, and all that was left was the image of a medic helping a wounded soldier with no regard for his own safety. Unlike the images in that mental lockbox of horrors, that was one she could smile at a little, and she did.

“Took names,” she added, upgrading the smile to a little grin directed at the transmitter.

This drew a laugh from the mare. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that the Battle of Colthav is tied up nicely. Want a ride to the mopping-up ceremony?”

“Naw, we’re good,” Astra replied. “Got some business out near Stalliongrad. That’s some nice work, General Pommel.”

“I’d be happier if I didn’t take 45% effective losses because the damn machines broke down on the way in,” Pommel replied with a chuckle. “But yeah, I think Manticore Actual is in for a good-sized serving of fried crow. Teach him to grouch off about know-it-all unicorns…”

<<Present Day, Southbound Bullet Train, the Changeling Reaches>>

“…and the only thing that stopped General Pommel from pinning them against the Dneighper and forcing either surrender or annihilation was that they managed to get across the bridges and blow them to prevent pursuit,” Astra finished.

“Well, that explains where all of Derian’s heavy artillery batteries came from,” Chrysalis grinned. “So Scarlet Knife decided to use Colthav as a field test for a new anti-armor round, did she?”

“Mom’s like that,” Astra grinned. “She’s always said that the only practical test of a weapon is to fire it at real enemies.”

“Speaking of such, Queen Chrysalis, I believe she has you to thank for those delightfully detailed blueprints for a balefire microburst weapon,” Verde added. “Those must have been a real challenge to get your hooves on.”

“We all do our part, Colonel,” Chrysalis smiled. “You shoot things, the corporal observes things, and I manage the business of learning things that the enemy would prefer that Equestria not know.” The smile diminished a little. “Speaking of the war effort… I don’t suppose you have any newer information than I do?”

“Stalemate along the viable Dneighper fords, ghastly siege at Sanctus Petriburg.” Astra said, grimacing. “The stalemate isn’t so bad—both are so well dug-in that neither side is suffering real casualties—but it’s still locking a whole battalion in place that could be used elsewhere. Sanctus is…”

“Tartarus brought to the mortal plane,” Verde finished sadly. “If there were two words that could explain why Mare Fluttershy was so desperate to see the fighting end that she gave megaspells to the zebras, ‘Sanctus Petriburg’ would be them. We can’t route reinforcements to the siege without stripping vital soldiers from other fronts. We can’t disengage because the zebras are still in solid fighting dispositions and could turn the disengagement into a slaughter. So we’re left smashing a beautiful monument to the warm relationship that once existed between us and the zebras in the hopes that we can eventually coerce surrender. It’s pointless, senseless, horribly bloodletting for absolutely no gain but circumstances are forcing us to contest an obsolete objective just to keep a solid front with campaigns that are actually important.”

“And that is why we’re here,” Night said. “We’re hopeful that the combination of a field demonstration of the upcoming Mark Twelve, and the widespread use of the Alishield Mark Two will be enough to end the war. If not, perhaps Mare Sparkle’s potion experiments will yield something.”

“I’ve heard about those experiments.” Chrysalis looked back at them. “Is it true that she’s attempting to make alicorns?”

Verde blinked. “Make alicorns?”

“Is that even… possible?” Astra blinked as well.

“Speaking from personal experience, I’d be very wary of underestimating Twilight Sparkle,” Chrysalis shrugged. “If it’s possible to use arcane scientific means to empower a pony to even half the power of one of the Sisters or anything close to the ability of a winged unicorn like Princess Cadence, Mare Sparkle would be the one to find it.”

“She was the primary developer of the Crusader maneframes…” Verde compressed her lips thoughtfully. “Still, the concept seems a bit… hubristic. Drink a potion and voila, you’ve got the powers and appearance of one of the Princesses? Don’t mistake me, it’s a fantastic idea, but it just seems so… I don’t know. Megaspells were developed for a peaceful purpose, so that seems a perfectly good use of science for war technology. You’ve got all the things Aunt Scarlet is up to, and the development of Steel Ranger armor, and those seem fine. But making major alterations to somepony for battle advantage is… very troubling.”

“Is that because zebras regularly augment their soldiers with their alchemy?” Chrysalis asked.

“Partly,” Verde admitted. “One thing that’s always been a little unsettling is that zebras seem so bent on victory that they’re perfectly willing to take an ordinary filly or colt and feed them magic to make them into the perfect little weapon. We take ponies of all shapes and sizes and appearances and make them soldiers with training, more or less guided self-improvement by completely mundane means. So are we giving that up now? Tacitly admiting that the zebras are right about something and get into yet another kind of arms race with them?”

“No,” Night replied firmly. “There’s no reason this would turn into a slippery slope, any more than development of power armor leads inevitably into cybernetic enhancement. Any more than the development of your Mark Twelve would lead to it being deployed in every single battle fought. Weapons—and the induction formula is a weapon, I’ll grant you that—are useless unless they can be controlled. The formula wouldn’t be under development unless the Princesses were fully convinced that it could, and would, be used selectively, wisely, and appropriately.”

“If the Princesses are so concerned about keeping things controlled, explain the Ministry of Morale,” Astra snorted. “We’re saddled with a Ministry that uses its power broadly, foolishly, and ways miles beyond merely inappropriate. And yet, you’re sitting there blithely assuring us that ponies who can’t keep a major agency of the war effort under control will be very disciplined and controlled with a weapon that can turn any unicorn into the next best thing to a god with a dose of magical potion?”

“The induction formula is an object, a mere creation of pony work and knowledge,” Night retorted sharply. “The Ministries are ponies led by a ponie. We are creatures of free will, desires, and sapience. We are driven by love, by fear, by loyalty, by hate, prejudice. You can’t regulate a pony the way you can regulate an object! You can’t program a pony, tell them what to do, what to think, what to feel. You should know that, Astra; you’ve seen your Ministry treating ponies as automatons, seen it haul them in to be ‘fixed’ as if they were a machine with a worn-out part. It can’t be done; it simply doesn’t work.” She sighed. “As much as we all wish it did, sometimes. It’d make things so much easier in just this sort of situation if you could make everything better by replacing the part that doesn't work with the part that does. So much easier if what was wrong with the Ministries was simply one little gear or switch burning out and needing to be replaced.”

“What do you mean?” Verde asked, eyeing the royal guard.

“I mean that you don’t know Pinkie Pie,” the pegasus replied with a sudden fierceness. “The Pinkie Pie I knew is not the one you think you know. Insane, yes. Frustrating, yes. Dangerously impulsive, yes. But also unreservedly kind and took joy in helping ponies be happy, not to mention somewhat entertaining, when her insane was directed at somepony else that is. I can’t say I liked her precisely; you had to practically reduce her to tears before you can get at the side that made all the exasperation worth it, the side that was actually considerate and happy. And oh, did I get tired of hearing it explained as ‘it’s Pinkie Pie being Pinkie Pie’. Still, she was never anything like the head of a Ministry like the one you describe.” She hung her head. “How bad has it become?”

“You know how it’s a staple of Nightmare Night for the foals to be told that Nightmare will come eat them up?” Night nodded. “Well, now the Ministry of Morale will come kidnap them and steal their thoughts.”

Night nodded sadly. “So the Ministry that is meant to raise morale now causes fear.”

“Yes, and not the good kind of fear either,” Verde told her, softening her tone slightly. “It is good for traitors and enemies to fear, but the purpose in causing them fear is so that your own people do not. If it helps at all, not even my mother who despises Pinkie Pie thinks that Pinkie is trying to hurt ponies. Our working theory is that she isn’t thinking the consequences of her policies all the way through.”

“That’s Pinkie alright,” she observed even more sadly. “Well, I’ll see what I can do about getting the truth to the right ponies and perhaps acting on it myself, as much as I can.”

“How much can you do, though?” Asta asked. “No offense, but you’re just a guard.”

Night smiled. “And you’re just a zebra.”

Astra frowned at her before she got it. “Ah, point taken. So what can you do?”

“Have a very serious heart-to-heart with Mare Pie,” Night replied. “And if that doesn’t work, a very serious conversation with Luna.”

The pegasus seemed to realize the error she’d made about the same moment that Verde and, based on her expression, Astra did. “Um…”

“You’re not part of the Royal Guard,” Astra stated bluntly. “Who are you?”

“You mean you’ve been traveling with one of your own Princesses at your side this entire time, and you didn’t notice?” Crysalis asked before either Verde or the supposed Guard could reply.

“One of our own…” Astra stopped and Verde could see her put it together about the same moment her face seemed to get a little more pale. “...oh…”

‘Night’ sighed. “You see why I prefer not traveling with my own face, Colonel?” she asked, gesturing at the clearly-shocked Astra. “Reactions like this. Now she won’t be able to treat me as just one more traveling companion.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Verde replied with a sympathetic pat on the disguised alicorn’s shoulder. “I should have thought of a way to forewarn her that you didn’t want to be known, and why.”

“Frankly if you didn’t want to be known, Princess, you shouldn’t have practically hit everyone over the head with your identity,” Chrysalis chided. “You use a shortened form of your well-known title. You use a shape that looks very much like you. You allude to the fact that you can easily pass for Princess Luna, when everypony knows that you’re quite literally her doppelganger. Your subjects would have to be stupid not to work it out… although I gather that the colonel was being willfully ignorant out of kindness.”

“And you were being silent out of kindness as well?” Nyx Sparkle asked with a rueful smile.

“That, and because I’m your loyal subject,” Crysalis replied, smiling back. “And because you’re a living symbol of redemption, and I admire you for that. Now, since that silly guise isn’t necessary any longer…”

“Deepest apologies Your Highness, madame Royal Guard, companions, but there’s a problem ahead,” the PA interrupted. “The diversion switch seems to have been damaged so we’ll be unable to switch tracks and take you all the way in to Hive Station. We are very sorry, but it appears you’ll have to walk yourselves in.”

“Damaged switch? That’s… odd.” Chrysalis commented with a furrow of her brow.

“Why, Chryssy?” Nyx asked. “I’d have thought that switches would get damaged all the time with the occasional dust storms you get in the Reaches.”

“It’s because of those dust storms that they don’t,” Chrysalis explained as she got to her feet and walked towards the door outwards, the train audibly applying its brakes. “All switches are enclosed in armored boxes to repel the dust storms and the tracks near a switch are sheltered by rock walls to make sure the high-velocity dust doesn’t scour them. But as unlikely as it is, it has to be what happened here. The alternative requires some pretty powerful demolition explosives and you’d have to be crazy to walk over a hundred miles from anything approaching civilization to smash a switch that leads to a barely-ever-used section of track.”

“Zebras can be crazy,” Verde pointed out. “In fact, they’re well-known for their occasional crazy. For example, about ten years ago, an entire nation of them got their crazy on and decided that they needed to kill a mare who stood a very real chance of friendshipping them all to death.” She turned to look at the still-disguised Nyx, whose cheeks colored lightly at the flattery. “Because, you know, nothing says ‘we are saving the world’ quite like assassinating a princess who greets her subjects by giving them a smile of youthful joy and a big warm hug.”

Chrysalis sighed. “But even crazy zebras operate by some sort of logic and as I explained, there’s nothing to be gained from invading near the old hive. Strategic assets are too far away and with the isolation, Equestria would have an absurdly luxurious time frame in which to respond.”

“Could it be more indirect warfare?” Nyx suggested. “An invasion to apply political pressure on I and my adopted sisters?”

Chrysalis considered this. “Sensible,” she acknowledged. “With so much Equestrian territory under threat, adding even empty useless Equestrian territory would put pressure on the Thrones to remove the invaders, even at the expense of other goals. Which could diminish the effective strength of the only major regional force that’s not indispensable: General Manestein’s campaign to wipe out the Stalliongrad-area forces.”

“Which, if the zebras are thinking in the general direction we are, would make the invasion a worthwhile enterprise,” Verde concluded.

“Granted. Worthwhile, but risky.” Chrysalis laid down on a bench next to the door, resting her head on her hoof thoughtfully. “They’d need a large fleet to move a large army as well as protect it from interception and establish secure long-term supply if they make a play for the coastal rock farms.”

“If they’ve managed to bring their stealth technology to an industrial scale, that’d act as a fantastic force-multiplier and make it much easier for them to slip naval patrols and land large forces,” Verde persisted. “It’s not outside the realm of possibility, Your Majesty.”

That brought Chrysalis up short and occasioned a frown. “Not outside of the realm of possibility,” she allowed. “But where would they get that kind of energy? And how would they account for the deadly side effects? Stealth cloaks can operate with a single gem because they just have to conceal the body of a single zebra and they radiate so little energy that you’d have to be Mare Rarity to notice it. To achieve stealth for the transport fleet you’re talking about, you’d have to build a floating power station of a gargantuan size and even then, running that kind of power through inscribed gems would bake any zebra on board instantly.”

Verde blinked. “Honestly, I’d have expected something more espionage and less arcanotech.”

“Thought I became spymaster without learning the basics, did you?” Chrysalis teased.

“If advanced arcanotech is your idea of ‘basics’, Your Highness, I’m sure your idea of ‘specialized’ would be quite sobering,” Verde replied with a genuinely respectful note in her voice. “But there is a viable solution to the problem you suggest: pipe the energy through a series of very small generators with heavy anti-radiation cowlings and physically isolate them from the structure by putting them on extended booms. You wouldn’t be able to make repairs without bringing the system down, but it’d solve the problem.”

“It would,” Chrysalis acknowledged with a frown. “All I can say is that I desperately hope you’re wrong, Colonel Tin.”

“I hope I am too,” Verde replied earnestly. “We already have too much Equestrian territory threatened by the zebras. Adding more, even useless desert, would be most unwelcome.”

“I take it you’ll be coming with us, Chrysalis?” Astra asked, speaking for the first time since Princess Nyx had inadvertently revealed herself.

“Naturally.” Chrysalis moved over to the door leading out. “Do either of you have a spare weapon?”

“Sorry, Your Highness, but we went sidearms-only for the diplomatic mission,” Verde replied apologetically.

“Is there a particular type that you’re most comfortable with?” Nyx asked.

“Pistol.”

“Perfect.” From a pocket of her saddlebag, Nyx pulled out a pistol type Verde had never seen before. The barrel extended at least a hoof beyond the main body and there was a vented muzzle brake on the front with a front blade sight poking out of it. The back of the gun had a large cylindrical hammer with the back of the blade sight cut into it and what looked like a normal twelve-round single-stack magazine. Verde could just barely make out dozens of tiny magical runes cut into it before Chrysalis accepted the weapon into her telekinetic grip.

“Nice.” The changeling turned it over in her grip, looking at the various runes with interest. “What’s it called?”

“The technical name for it is Ironshod Object Twelve Special but project engineers just called it ‘Clockwork’. No idea why it has a fancy name and I naturally don’t need it to defend myself, but you asked for a pistol so here it is.”

Verde started at that and could see the same reaction in Astra. “Object” designations went to highly experimental weapons that were joint projects between the Armament R&D division of the Ministry of Wartime Technology and various subsidiary companies like Ironshod Firearms. As in, highly experimental weapons that had been created, in part or in whole, on the maneframe-driven runecraft lathe that was secured at the heart of Equestria’s primary industrial complex in Fillydelphia, called Solar Forge. Such weapons were highly unique and restricted to extremely high-level figures like Mare Applejack and the Princesses. She’d never heard of one being just hoofed it over to another pony with such a blasé air. Then again, Princess Nyx was well-known for not taking protocol too seriously.

“And… the ammunition?”

“Apparently, all those runes mean it doesn’t need any.” Nyx shrugged. “I’ve been kept fairly busy with royal duties and haven’t had a chance to study up on the intricacies of modern runecraft, so I don’t know how those runes make ammunition unnecessary. All that matters to me is that they work, and that they’ll help a loyal friend and ally of Equestria defend herself if needs be.” She gave Crysalis a little smile. “What else matters?”

“Fair enough.” Chrysalis looked back at Astra and Verde. “Is something the matter?”

“Other than my just learning that we’ve been escorting Princess Sparkle this entire time?”

“And seeing that she’s been carrying around a highly unique experimental weapon in her saddlebag and casually just hoofed it over to another pony, without hesitation?”

“And realizing that one of our Princesses is about to follow us into what could easily be a zebra ambush?”

“Yes,” Chrysalis replied with an amused look. “Other than those things.”

Astra and Verde both stared at her a moment before shaking their heads. “Um, no,” Verde managed, taken aback at how none of it seemed to be fazing the queen.

“Ready to go when you are,” Astra added with a weak smile.

“Excellent,” Chrysalis smiled. “Let’s see what’s wrong with this diversion switch.”