Chapter 6
After being evacuated from the ship, I got a nice room in Horsekins University Hospital, in downtown Baltimare. Top floor, good view of the city and the harbor.
Too bad I was only getting half the view, with only one working eye.
Those civilian nurses doted on us: a dozen of our wounded were on the top floor of that hospital. I visited Cosmic Plume as often as possible. The surgeons, indeed, amputated her foreleg, just below my tourniquet. A batpony, Summer Midnight, had broken her spine in the scrap, paralyzed below the wings. I made friends with her, too. I also trotted to the psych floor and checked in on the three rescued fillies at least daily. They all seemed to appreciate it.
Against my wishes, Cosmic told the nurses that I'd treated her and most of the other wounded while the spells and cannonballs flew. The three fillies told the nurses that my burns were from rescuing them, after my own injury. With that, and me telling the floor nurses that I'd joined the Guard to pay for nursing school someday, well, I became an honorary member of their crew. They let me sit at the nurse's station when I wasn't in the mood to sit in my room, and they gave me privileges to their fancy coffee machine in the break room, so long as I drank decaf.
While I sat in one of their chairs, sipping coffee, Cosmic Plume's orthopedic surgeon stomped over to the nurse's station and glared at the head nurse, a short stallion named Good Condition.
"Why is a patient sitting in my chair?"
Good Condition looked at me, looked at the doctor, and said, "Consulting."
The doctor spluttered. "Consulting what?"
Good Condition pointed at me. "She's the one who put the field tourniquet on your patient's leg and saved her life."
I adjusted my eye patch and stared at him, my face as blank as possible. I flicked my heavily bandaged ears at him. Then, I rotated my chair juuuuuust enough to show him my cutie mark.
He drew his hooves together, dipped his head, and said, "My apologies. Carry on."
After I'd been in the hospital a week and a half, a squadron of three Hippogriffian warships arrived in Baltimare for Prince Guidestar's body.
Celestia decided to go ahead and make a spectacle out of it. She and Cadance came to Baltimare, along with the rest of Celestia's Own. The battalion would parade down Main Street, escorting the caisson with the Crown Prince's casket to the port, where he would be given to the Hippogriffs.
That was a good idea, I'll give Celestia that. There wasn't a lot of love between ponies and hippogriffs, or vice-versa, back then. Outside some merchant sailors and dock workers, no ponies had even met hippogriffs.
The fact that the two races had shed blood together, and rescued slaves of each race, well, that would make great newspaper copy, right? Celestia has a real knack for propaganda. She's merciless about using it.
My hospital room overlooked Main Street, so my family—who had arrived by train a few days before—and I were planning to sit on my bed and watch the parade.
While we waited, I sat in a chair at the small round table next to my bed, and my brothers, who had just turned fifteen, sat on the opposite side. Treble Clef opened the box of a Pondemic game and began setting up the board.
"Why in Equestria," asked Live Wire, "would a hospital have this game?"
I stared at him, adjusted my eyepatch, and said, "So the patients can beat at least one disease."
Mom's voice cracked. "You didn't used to have that sort of sense of humor."
I looked at her, where she and dad sat on the bed. Dad patted her on the thigh. "It's laugh or cry, Mom," I said.
Treble Clef—Trouble, we called him back then—took the first turn at the game. He rolled a one and played a stupid card.
"You little Celestia-damned idiot!" I shouted. "First move of the game, and we're behind the curve. Can't you even roll a two? What's your problem?"
Trouble stared at me, jaw agape.
Live Wire stared at me.
Mom and Dad stared at me.
I'd noticed myself getting angry easily. I wasn't sure why, but I had a theory. I rubbed the back of my head, where the griffon had dented my helmet, and looked down at my lap. "Sorry," I said. "I... I'm sorry." We played a few more turns of the game, and I chewed my tongue every time I wanted to scream at them.
A knock came on the door. I rolled my eyes, despite the eyepatch, and called, "Come in!"
Maybe it would give me somepony different to scream at? Maybe not! Prince Blueblood and Princess Cadance entered. I quickly stood up and went to attention. Mom, Dad, and the colts stood, too.
"At ease, Private," Major Blueblood said. "Please, sit."
Cadance trotted up to me and tilted her head, examining my eyepatch. "How's your treatment progressing?"
"Slowly," I said. "Doctor Eye Opener told me to wear the patch. We're in the delicate bit right now."
"The remainder of your treatment?" Cadance said.
"My brain's swelling is down, so they're letting me exercise again. An hour a day on the treadmill, plus weights. I'll be fit to fight when the Battalion moves out."
Dad made a little gasp.
"Is the treatment painful?" Cadance asked, brushing a feather against my cheek just beneath the patch, her voice soft.
I looked at the floor.
"Your burns?" Cadance asked.
"Healing. Rather itchy. The potions should prevent scarring."
Cadance patted my withers with her hoof, then said, "Please, introduce us to your visitors."
"My mother and father, Parcel Pickup and Reply Coupon. My little brothers, Treble Clef and Live Wire. This is Her Highness, Princess Cadance, and His Highness, Major Blueblood."
My brothers stared at Cadance, their mouths agape. "Stop drooling," I told them.
Cadance giggled into a wing.
My dad cleared his throat. "Your Highness. Uh, Major Your Highness. We appreciate the letters you wrote to us when our little filly was missing and wounded, four months back."
Blueblood nodded. "It's the least I could do."
My mom said, "Princess Cadance... you saved her... that was you, right? Th... thank you."
"You're most welcome," Cadance replied.
After about ten seconds of awkward silence, Cadance said to my parents, "We need to borrow your daughter. And your sons, if you don't mind."
Mom stomped. "Let her heal in peace! And keep your hooves off my colts! ...um, Highness."
Blueblood held up a hoof. "There's to be a parade this afternoon. And this was my idea, so there's no need to yell at the Princess. We would like your sons to push your daughter in a wheelchair."
"What?" Dad said.
"Huh?" Mom said.
"Damnit," I said.
"Politics," Cadance explained, her wings shuffling as she looked at her hooves. She shrugged slightly. "Politics. We need ponies, and the hippogriffs, to see that Equestria is serious about this filthy little war, because things are going to get worse before they get better. A young, attractive, wounded mare, wearing her Red Cross markings and an eyepatch, with the support of her family... it's a powerful symbol."
Blueblood rubbed his mane. "Your daughter is our only wounded medic. The symbolism that these bastards show no solicitude to anypony, not even to the Red Cross, is vital to the facts Her Majesty wants to tell the ponies of Equestria."
I stood. "Leave my brothers out of this. I can march just fine. My legs aren't hurt."
Blueblood laid a hoof on my withers. "Good trooper. By the way, I have something for you."
Cocking my head, I looked at him.
He levitated a small black-velvet box out from under his uniform tunic, and opened the box. "Your second Wounded in Action badge." He pinned it on my hospital gown. "Your second Medic's Star." It went next to the first.
He took a step back, looking at Cadance.
She pulled a pink velvet box and a scroll from under her cape.
Blueblood opened my door. Nurses rolled in Cosmic Plume's and Summer Midnight's wheelchairs. Doctors and nurses stood in the hallway at the door to my room. Several others, including Tender Jade, Sergeant Flash, and Lieutenant Armor crowded into my room, lining the walls. One of the rescued unicorn fillies stood between two doctors, looking up at me expectantly, an actual smile on her face again.
Once everypony was arranged around me, Princess Cadance unfurled the scroll and read: "In the Most Regal Name of my Aunt, Her Majesty Princess Celestia, Eternal Ruler of Ponykind. Private First Class Redheart, for your actions freeing the three slaves while flames licked at your hooves and smoke threatened to cut off your escape; for actions performed despite severe wounds suffered earlier in the same action, wounds that would have justified retreat to medical attention rather than continued combat; for actions in the greatest tradition of the Guard, and far beyond the call of duty; for actions in the greatest tradition of Her Majesty’s Household Battalion, showing perseverance beyond all else... The Monarch's Thanks."
Cadance levitated a sunlight-yellow ribbon around my neck, and a golden medal embossed with Celestia's cutie mark hung from it. It thumped heavily against my chest.
"My Aunt regrets that a meeting with hippogriff diplomats prevents her from giving this to you herself."
Everypony stomped their applause, and my brothers whistled. Tears welled in my eyes, and I said, "Shhh! This is a hospital—ponies are sleeping!"
The actual parade bit was utterly forgettable. Anypony in the Guard knows how to march.
My family was clever enough to stake out a spot on the left side of the parade route, the side of my good eye, so I was able to wink at them. All four were crying.
Along with the six other walking wounded, I marched in the rank right behind the caisson carrying Guidestar's casket, so I ended up in the newspaper pictures. Damnit.
Celestia gave a speech, the hippogriff ambassador gave a speech. Blueblood, as the senior pony officer present at the scrap, gave a eulogy for the dead, and read all their names, hippogriff and pony. Standing at attention, I did the eye muscle exercises the surgeon had prescribed.
I straightened up and paid attention to the last bit of the ceremony, however.
The battalion's Sergeant Major marched up to the dais with the Colors, an ancient yellow flag with a black block numeral 1 in its center. Surrounding the 1 were our battle honors, the hundred-some black patches bearing the names of past battles in white letters.
We were First Battalion, Equestria's first battalion, the oldest still-extant military formation in the world. For almost one thousand years, we had stood at Celestia's side. We had been Celestia's very right hoof, her personal Guard.
That battle flag was still the original, as old as the Battalion. As old as Equestria.
Celestia levitated up a new patch, a new battle honor, and her spell affixed it to the flag, alongside the names of Celestia's Own's past victories and defeats. The hallowed names of the bloodiest battles from the history books: like The Nightmare. Siege of Griffonstone. Defense of Canterlot. Or The Maregonne Forest.
One thousand years of history consecrated that flag, and it twisted my stomach to think that I had participated in two—Southern Marches and Piracy Suppression, the two newest battle honors.
How many more battle honors would I be a part of, before one of them killed me?
How many more battle honors, after my years ended, before Equestria finally had peace, and no more little fillies needed to be rescued, and no more twenty-year-olds had to march into the crucible so that Equestria could stay safe?
The wind blew our colors, and one thousand years of the Battalion's dead spoke to me, telling me: Persevere.
The ceremony ended, and the crowds broke up.
The best part of having my family visit me in the hospital was that I had somepony's hoof to hold during my treatments.
Dad and I took the lift down to the hospital's basement. Before we even got to the elevator, my ears tucked tight against my skull and my tail tucked deep under my belly.
Every heartbeat thudded in my skull. As the elevator slowly dropped, I slid down to my haunches as I hugged around dad's neck, burrowing my face into his mane. My tail drummed drummed drummed against the floor of the elevator and tears pooled under my eyepatch. My breathing turned short and fast, I was breathing through my mouth, and I sucked some of dad's mane into my throat and I gagged, coughing, his hairs sticking to my tongue even though my entire mouth was dry, drier than that stupid dessert where we fought the raiders, but I just kept holding on tight. I pounded my right hoof against Dad's ribs as I sobbed. My head went light, this strange sensation in my forehead just above my left eye and my heart was racing and—
Dad hugged me back, and rubbed the back of my neck with a hoof. "My baby," he said. "My brave little filly."
"This... these treatments hurt worse than anything, dad. Worse than when I stepped on the caltrop. Worse than the blood infection and the surgeries."
"Three more treatments," Dad said. "Three more to save your eyesight."
I let go of him and wiped my left eye with a fetlock.
The elevator door opened in the basement, and Dr. Eye Opener stood there, waiting for me. "Miss Redheart."
My knees shaking, I stood and walked over to him, drew myself up straight, and nodded once. "Doctor." He walked and I followed.
"I still want to refer you to Manehattan School of Medicine," he said. "Their ophthalmology department is the best in the world."
"I have to stay in Baltimare," I said, lying down flat on my back on the treatment table, my breath still rasping. "If the Battalion tries to leave without me, I'll sneak down the fire escape and swim to the transport."
Dad made a hrnk sound as he sat down on a stool on my right side.
The doctor shook his head, his voice sad. "It's immoral, taking idealistic youngsters, telling them they're the Crown's elite, Celestia's very Own, and brainwashing them with that lunatic praetorian ethos. You should have been discharged for your own protection. I read your medical history."
"Celestia's Own don't quit, sir," I said, feeling rather insulted.
"Exactly my point," he said.
The nurse pulled a sheet over me, covering me from tail to neck.
The room went fully dark, and I reached out my right hoof and bumped it into Dad's shoulder. He grabbed my hoof between his forehoofs and kissed me, on the scar. "My brave filly," Dad said. "I love you so much."
"You too, Dad."
On the low ceiling above me, a piece of frosted glass glowed white as its backlight turned on. A black grid was painted on the glass. The nurse's feathers tickled my forehead as she moved the eyepatch from my right eye to my left.
The light stung my injured eye after a few days behind the patch. The perfect grid, its evenly spaced straight lines and right angles, appeared molten and distorted through the damage to my retina.
But at least I could see it. Sweet Celestia, how my vision had improved over the last two weeks. "You're an artist, doc."
"The closer we get to finished," he said, "the more it hurts."
"Oh." I hadn't realized that. "Oh."
"How does the grid look?"
"Melty? Distorted."
"Is one part worse than the others?"
I pondered that. "The left side."
"That's the right side of the retina, nearest your head wound. Miss Redheart... today is going to be unpleasant."
I took a few deep breaths. "Yes, doctor."
Silently, Dad kissed the frog of my hoof again, and rubbed his hoof up and down my foreleg. That simple touch, Dad just being there, I think, made all the difference.
The Doctor's horn lit, a deep forest-green glow. He frowned down at me, the frown of an expert archer picking a target, an expert flier calculating a swoop, a medic deciding who lives and who dies. A ball of his magic slowly approached my eye, and the chilly tingle of unicorn magic touching my eyeball and slowly passing through the hard tissue, the world blooming into green light, so bright like being inside the sun—
—I guess Dad must have carried me back to my room on the top floor. My family waited in the lounge down the hall while one of the nurses sponged the urine off me. I held a vomit tray, which was empty, surprisingly. Once the nurse toweled me dry, pulled a blanket over me, and took the tray, my brothers and Mom came back in.
"Where... where's Dad?" I whispered, both eyes clenched shut.
"He went back to the hotel for a shower," Mom said.
So. I must have pissed on Dad while he carried me back up to my room. I curled up into a tighter ball. My face felt so numb I couldn't tell if I had the eyepatch on, so I felt for it with my hoof.
It was in place.
"Is the hotel expensive? You four have been here visiting me for almost two weeks..." Mom and Dad were mail carriers. If we had had money, I would never have joined the Guard in the first place. I would have gone straight to nursing school.
Mom said, "The hotel manager told us Cadance paid our bill in advance. The princess gave us train vouchers, too. The Baltimare Home Guard is cooking for us so we aren't spending any money on restaurants. The hospital canteen isn't charging us for meals."
"Oh," I said.
"You want us to go get you some food, Sis?" Treble Clef asked. "You missed dinner but the nurse said to just ask her."
I shook my head no.
"How many more treatments?" Live Wire said.
"Two or three, I think," I mumbled. "Today was... productive."
Before they'd put the patch back on my bad eye, the grid had almost looked square again. My eye was, slowly, healing.
Would it heal fast enough? Yes. I was going to be ready. I was going to have my vision back. I was going to be fit to fight. I was going to be there with my team. Whatever that next deployment was, I would be there. If anypony died, it wouldn't be because I wasn't there to help.
Slowly, I crawled out of bed and stood on shaky hooves.
"Redheart!" Mom scolded. "Lie down."
"I'm going to the gym," I said. "I need to do my weights for today. C'mon, colts, I bet I can press more than you two combined. You call yourselves earth ponies?"
Livey ran on a treadmill while Trouble and I took turns on a machine doing leg presses. That late in the evening, we had the gym to ourselves.
"You two listen to me," I said.
"What's up, sis?" Livey said.
"Trouble—you and that fiddle are going places."
"I play viola, you uncultured diamond dog."
"But," I continued, "Livey, are you thinking about the guard?"
He kept up his run for a few seconds, sweat dripping, not making eye contact with me. Then: "Yeah. I'm going to go out for Celestia's Own. But a trooper, not a medic."
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Colt. Don't."
"What? You did."
"Look at Mom and Dad. What's this doing to them? You—you two live with them! I can tell they're different now, worried, sad. You two must see it more than me."
"Well," Trouble said, "ever since that first time you got hurt..."
"I'm not going to come back," I said. "Don't you get that? This war is getting worse. What'll it do to Mom and Dad when the Baroness shows up at the front door to tell them I’m dead?"
"You won't—" Livey began. I glared at him, and he stopped talking and let himself slide off the end of the treadmill, staring back at me. "You're—you’re serious."
"Forty of my platoon went out last time. Thirty came back, half wounded. Think about that. Then start multiplying."
"I'm... but sis. I want to be like you."
Trouble just looked at us. He was already first-chair viola in the city's junior symphony. He wasn't the one I was worried about.
I hopped off the machine and walked to Livey. I leaned down, eye to eye. "Please."
"I want college. Where else will we get the bits? I won't get a viola scholarship."
Trouble started his leg-presses again, the metal plates in the machine clacking up and down.
I glared at Livey. "Think about Mom and Dad. Especially at my funeral in a month or two. Don't."
He hopped back up on the treadmill and started jogging again. He frowned, his ears tight to his head and his tail thrashing as he ran. “I'll think about it but... I gotta get college bits somewhere."
"All aboard!" called the conductor, and the train whistle blew.
I hugged Mom, Dad, and the colts.
We all sniffled. My eye still felt a little funny without the patch, but it was nice to see them with both eyes.
I honestly expected it to be the last time I saw them. From their faces, I knew they figured it was the last time they would see me, too.
I was in my full dress uniform, the whiter-than-white tunic that only Celestia's Own wore, complete with my ribbons. The Monarch's Thanks entitled me to golden stripes down the outsides of my sleeves, bright gold against white, which, along with the ribbons, made me look ridiculous.
"Travel safe," I said. "I'll write."
Mom and Dad trotted up onto the train. Trouble and Livey hugged me one last time.
"We'll miss you, sis," they both said.
"Don't join the Guard," I said, and kissed each of them on top of the nose. They headed up the stairs, too.
So, I thought, this is what your own funeral feels like...
Their cabin was on the far side of the train, where they wouldn't be able to wave goodbye to me, so I turned around and cantered for the exit.
"Celestia's Own don't quit," somepony behind me called.
I stopped and flicked my ears. My tail thrashed angrily. Nopony should dare say those sacred words, unless...
Unless...
I turned around and saw an elderly pegasus mare. She looked me up and down and nodded at the First Battalion flash on my shoulder.
"Celestia's Own don't quit," I replied. "What were you?"
"Bravo, first platoon."
I sucked in air through my teeth. "That's me, too."
She nodded. "I was seventy-five years younger. What's your position?"
"Senior medic. You?"
"You're young for senior medic. Stepped into dead horseshoes?"
I nodded slowly.
"I was Aerial Squad leader, back before I got sent home."
Sent home. I knew what that meant. Apparently the lingo hadn’t changed in seventy-five years. "Where?" I asked.
"The Maregonne Forest."
My ears flattened. The Mews-Maregonne campaign was one of the bloodiest of the battle honors on the Battalion's Colors. Less than one pony in ten had...
"Good hunting, trooper," the elderly mare continued. "From the newspapers, it looks like you'll be busy."
"Thanks," I said. "I just got cleared for duty this morning. After a month in the hospital, I'm ready to get back to work."
She studied my chest. "The POW Medal?" She then looked at the sunlight-yellow stripes on my sleeves. "And the Monarch's Thanks? Two Medic's Stars? You've been a busy filly."
"A medic is no damn good back at base, ma'am."
"Hostis sapiens generis," she said, and spat on the train platform. "Slavers. Pirates. Bah! Give them hell for me. I wish I could be there."
"Celestia's Own don't quit."
"Celestia's Own don't quit." She trotted away. As the elderly mare trotted off, I studied her. She walked with her head held high, and what looked to be a surprising amount of spring in her elderly step.
She also had only one wing.
Another wave broke over the bow of our pinnace, and I wiped saltwater from my eyes. A dozen other boats skipped over the waves with us.
Hippogriffs and pegasi towed us toward the shore of Black Skull Island. To my left was the boat with Lieutenant Armor and Tender Jade; to my right, Sergeant Flash and Princess Cadance.
We hit a particularly bad wave and I bounced up before crashing down, belly-first, onto the deck.
As I struggled back up to my hooves, the boat crunched hard into the rocky shoreline.
I fought ashore through the surf. I carried a triple-weight pack, loaded with my own medical gear and extra rations. Such is the lot of an earth pony in combat... good thing I'd kept hitting the weight room during my hospital stay.
The skull-shaped mountain loomed over us, backlit by the sunrise. Smoke billowed from its volcanic vents, and the wind carried its foulness into our faces. My throat and nose burned. Cold water soaked my legs and tail and splashed my barrel as I reached shore.
Cadance nodded to me. The Princess wore the same armor and camouflage cape as the rest of us, but she bore no rank or unit markings.
Even in camouflage, she seemed just a little too pink and festive for a landing on a hostile shore. "Ma'am," I replied.
Lieutenant Armor trotted up, his eyes moved slowly left-to-right. "That overhang," he said, pointing a hoof. "It's above the high tide line and out of the wind."
"Yessir."
Hippogriffs and pegasi hauled the boats around, and back out to the Hippogriffian squadron sitting offshore, to pick up the second wave.
I started shivering. We weren't far from that same desert, south of Equestria, where the raiders had harried the borderlands, but the wind and the salt spray off the ocean left me cold.
Tender Jade joined me. We nodded to each other and started pitching our medical tent. Troopers spread out to defend our beachhead.
Just after dawn three days later, I trotted up to Princess Cadance and Major Blueblood in the command tent. "Princess. Sir." I saluted.
"We know what you're going to say, Redheart," Major Blueblood said. "The answer is still no."
"Our patrols are getting eaten up, sir. Troopers die before they get back to camp. If there had been a medic with them—"
"Redheart," Cadance interrupted, her voice soft, "you're filthy."
I looked down at myself. Blood, urine, and vomit covered my breast, forelegs, shoulders. My left ear canal was clogged, and I really didn't want to know with what.
"None of this is mine," I said, waving a hoof at the mess.
"How is Private Sky Lighter?" Blueblood asked.
"We saved his wing," I said. "I think. He's already on a boat out to the hospital ship."
"Grab some soap and wash off in the surf, Redheart," Cadance said. She took off her helmet, and rubbed her frizzy mane with both forehooves. "You'll feel more like yourself without the mess."
"I really insist, ma'am and sir," I continued, "that you let me accompany one of the patrols tonight. I'm an earth pony, so I can easily carry a wounded trooper or two, and having my cutie mark forward, at the point of meeting the enemy—"
"No," Blueblood said. "We can't risk any medics. We're already shorthooved."
"Third Battalion will be onshore by nightfall," I said, pointing a hoof at the newly arrived convoy offshore. "There'll be a full medical team with them. I'm expendable the way our trained troopers aren't."
"The answer," Blueblood said, "is no."
"There's no need, anyway," Cadance said. "I'm going with tonight's patrol."
Blueblood's head snapped around and he stared at her, ears pointing different directions, jaw slack.
"I don't recall authoriz—" Blueblood glanced at me. "Redheart? Dismissed."
There wasn't enough fresh water on the island to spare any for washing, so I waded into the surf with a rag and a bar of soap and scrubbed away the mess. The cold water froze my body, and several hippogriff boat-crew members stared at me, and the red water that formed around me between each wave.
I waded back ashore and ate a bowl of whatever that day's rations were, choking it down.
As the sun set, I huddled in our small pup tent, next to the medical tent, shivering under a blanket. My coat itched with salt. Jade snored next to me.
The combination of terrible food and the cold from the ocean wind, well, that really chips away at a pony's soul. We had landed only a few days before and it was already like we'd been there half our lives. My alleged meal soured my stomach, and my blanket just wasn't enough. I found myself sobbing, sobbing for no particular reason, my face buried in my tail.
Bad food. Soul-sapping weather. Death swirling around us, a continuous trickle of wounded and dying, and knowing that there would be more wounded troopers coming back from patrol before dawn. I needed sleep, to be on my game when the wounded arrived, but I wasn't getting sleep.
I dozed fitfully. Nightmares tormented me: wounded came, their guts spilling out, and I had no kit to save them with, my ampoules of painkiller were filled with dust, my tourniquets snapped as I tried to cinch them tight. Laughing pirates came and lopped off the wounded troopers' heads as I fought to save them. Slavers took little fillies, and forced me to watch as—
Blueblood barged into the tent, waking Jade and me.
"Redheart! You awake?"
I popped up to my hooves and blinked. "Yessir!"
He stared at the tears matting my face. Then: "You're going with tonight's patrol."
"Th... thank you, sir!"
"I still object on principle, but Her Highness Cadance has pulled out her alicorn card and assigned herself to the patrol, as well. Your job is to keep her alive at all costs."
I rubbed my chin. What was an alicorn worth? Three battalions?
"Yes, sir. Let me get my kit."
"No. No saddlebags. Light and quiet. Just carry what you have pockets for."
"Yessir."
I was the first of us at the assembly point on the edge of the beach. I wore a camouflage cloak over my gray medic's smock. I sat in a tide pool, smearing dark mud on my legs, tail, and face while I waited for the others.
The salty mud itched, but it was better than being a bright white and pastel pink pony on a night patrol on an island of dark volcanic rock.
Three privates trotted up, nodded to me, and sat down to wait. They were all dark-colored naturally and didn't need to smear themselves with mud.
Cadance and Sergeant Flash landed and tucked their wings.
"I've sent a scroll to my Aunt," Cadance announced.
Something seemed... wrong. Off. Like I was losing my eyes' dark adaption. The night went from dim to black.
"Ah, she's received it," Cadance said, looking up.
The moon—full only moments before—turned gibbous, half, crescent, then gone.
"A dark new moon," Cadance said. "Everypony, I have night-vision potions."
She distributed glass bottles, stoppered with corks. I clasped the bottle between my forehooves, popped the cork with my teeth, and gagged at the stench. "Whooowheee!" I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head away from the potion. Sergeant Flash and the privates gagged, too. "What the heck, Princess?" I asked.
I couldn't see Cadance's expression in the dark, but her voice seemed apologetic. "Yes, the primary ingredients of night vision potions are owl eyeballs and cobra blood. Owls and cobras have superior night vision."
I choked it down. Somehow I managed not to puke it back up. My stomach soured, and then a strange tingle—like if you hold your breath too long—wrapped around my head. I could taste the mud puddle I was standing in and something smelled very... yuck. I won't describe it. The salty mud burned my skin, and my cape's fabric rubbed my withers and flanks like sandpaper.
The dark night brightened again, and the tingle faded. The odd tastes and smells and touches receded. It wasn't like daylight, but the potion let me see in the pitch darkness as if it were dusk or dawn.
Sergeant Flash whipped his tail happily. "Let's see those sons of mules top this! Thanks, Princess."
There were six of us. Me, Sergeant Flash, Princess Cadance, and the three privates: a unicorn stallion, Crescent Pop; a pegasus mare, Scarlet Wind; and an earth mare, Rosemary Seasoning.
We all wore camouflage cloaks and our helmets, along with rubber-soled hoof boots to protect ourselves from the stony ground. We wore no other armor, in order to stay quiet and quick. I wore my gray medic’s smock under my camouflage.
"Tonight's goal is simple," Cadance said. "But not to say easy. I have a spell that can map their fortress's interior, if I can get a clear line of sight to it."
"We're going to try to get her to a ridgeline above the fortress," Flash said. "We want to not encounter the enemy at all. Keep it quiet and subtle. Questions?"
"Why's the medic here?" asked Crescent Pop.
"Redheart's solid," Scarlet said. "Glad to have her." I bumped hooves with Scarlet and she winked at me.
"Why can't you teleport, Princess?" Rosemary asked.
"They seem to be monitoring that," Cadence said with a frown. "That's what happened yest—nevermind." Her face paled and her ears wilted.
Flash said, "Rosemary, lead off."
"Pull your hood up," Scarlet whispered to me. "Your ears are still white, even if the rest of you is muddy."
Nodding, I did as she said. I stole a glance at Scarlet. She seemed well recovered from the sucking chest wound I had patched, back aboard the Ocean Swell.
The night vision potion really messed with my head. It was similar to dim daylight... but not quite the same. My depth perception skewed, and I kept tripping over my own hooves. I was the loudest of us six, for sure. Was it because I was a medic and the others were troopers, or was it some interaction between my eye injury and the potion?
We paused every hundred yards or so. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I don't think I would have heard a yak approaching over the bump bump bump of my own heart.
When had I last eaten? Right, some of the boiled glop around sundown. The back of my throat burned, hot reflux trying to come back up. As we traced along the bottom of one of the cliffs, I placed every hoofstep carefully, looking for loose rocks or scree.
Private Rosemary held up a hoof and we paused.
The wind sighed through the gaps in the rock, and a distant rumble from the volcanic vents shook the island.
Here, at least two miles inland, away from the beach's fresh ocean breeze, the air stank with sulfur and steam. I closed my eyes and raised my nose. There was nocreature close, at least not upwind. Cold night air dried the mud on my coat, and I shivered.
Flash and Cadance whispered into each other's ears for a moment, and then we continued on.
Slowly, the trail brought us up the side of the cliff, switchback after switchback. Would we make it back to camp before dawn? Would we need to hunker down for the day, and then finish our trek back the next night, after dark? Sergeant Flash surely had a plan, but I couldn't ask him. We needed to stay quiet. We reached the top of the ridgeline two or three hours before dawn.
Stupidly, I thought that meant the hard part was over.
Cadance sat down on the rough volcanic rock, wrapped her tail around her hooves, threw back her hood, and stared down at the fortress.
My tail thrashed and I scratched at the ground with my forehooves. I sniffed at the wind and rotated my ears every direction.
Even with the night vision potion, the fortress was just too far away to make out anything. It seemed like a random pile of stones to me. I estimated it was three or six miles away.
A tiny earthquake rattled the island, and the volcano belched a thick cloud of smoke, blotting out stars. Dark night, volcanic stench, sighing wind, shuddering ground, bitter ashes on your tongue. How many scary foal's stories started this way?
If it was a campfire story, the storyteller would have made it a full moon, but the darkness of the new moon made everything worse.
The five of us spread out into a circle around Cadance. Her horn glowed. The glow was soft, but high on that ridge where the entire island could see...
I tossed my hood back and shook my head. Despite the cold breeze, sweat dripped down my neck and flanks. As the mud camouflaging my white coat dried, it spalled off, taking hair with it. Closing my eyes, I rotated my ears and listened.
"It's done," Cadance whispered. "And worse than I feared."
"What do you mean, Princess?" Flash asked.
"Prisoners," she said. "Hundreds. In the caverns—"
"Shhhh!" Rosemary hissed.
We all froze. I bent my knees, ready to spring in any direction.
Pebbles tumbled, their falls echoing. What seemed to be deep breathing mixed in with the sighs of the wind. My mouth watered, the urge to vomit almost overwhelming. My heart raced.
Rosemary reached up and grabbed her spear off her back with her teeth, and then grasped it under her foreleg. Sergeant Flash and Scarlet Wind unfurled their wings and their wingblades glinted under the starlight.
The wind shifted, from the west to the south-west, and I caught a hint of hippogriff. It was different from the smell of the hippogriffs I remembered. A filthy stench. I wrinkled my nose to try to clear it.
Cadance's horn glowed, very slightly.
My back turned cold, icy like I'd never imagined, the sweat matting the smock under my cape to my skin. My tail tucked protectively under me as animal instincts prepared me to fight, and the volcanic stench in the air seared my throat as I panted.
Crescent Pop levitated out his sword.
I stretched my legs, one at a time, and kicked off my four rubber-soled boots. I lacked the weapons training of the troopers, but took plenty of hoof-to-hoof practice. Sniffing again, I decided: hippogriffs and pegasi. Maybe a griffon.
Hippogriffs and pegasi vs. an earth pony. Yeah, I liked my chances.
"Box formation around Cadance," Flash whispered. "Back down the trail, quiet and alert."
"Belay that," Cadance said. "They're on our backtrail."
"Teleport yourself back, Princess," I whispered. "We'll follow on our own."
"Good idea," Flash said.
Cadance gasped and looked up. Her horn flashed, a shield dome snapping into place above us. Arrows hit the dome, evaporating in flashes of light and balls of smoke.
Where were they? I looked left, right, forward, backward—up.
Two pegasi hovered above, one clasping a bow, as a second nocked and fired an arrow.
"Get the princess!" ordered the one holding the bow. "Break her horn and wings, kill the others!"
Cadance's dome covered us, stopping arrows, but four hippogriffs and three griffons landed and pushed through the edge of the dome, drawing swords with their claws.
What happened? To this day, I don't really know. It was so fast, it was so dark.
I was so scared.
A hippogriff swung a sword in a horizontal arc. I dove. Rolling, I bumped against his legs. I surged up to all four hooves, swinging my head up. My helmet cracked under his chin, bone crunched, and he flew up and back and slammed back-first into the underside of the shield.
He slid down the dome and didn't get back up. I shook my head, ears ringing from the hit of my helmet against his chin.
It's—it's so hard to describe. Every single beat of my heart, every breath, I could feel. Time seemed to be moving slow, and yet so fast. Night vision potion or not, everything went dark except whatever was right in front of my nose, which shined like noontime daylight. Grunts, swords ringing on swords, spells flashing and arrows evaporating against the dome: the sounds were small, distant, lost under the thunder of my heartbeat.
A griffon crossed swords with Crescent Pop. She swung one-handed. Crescent parried and riposted. The griffon twisted and they both drew back a half step, back en garde.
I ran, bounding up behind the griffon just as she parried Cresent's next blow. In her distraction, in her concentration, the griffon raised her tail as she shifted her wrist for her next blow—
Spinning, my forehooves skittered in the thin dust, I looked over my left shoulder, aiming. The griffon struck, Crescent parried her blow again, and I tucked up my rear legs, balanced for a split-second on my forelegs, and I focused, focused all my years of exercise, thousands of hours hauling a full combat pack, thousands of hours in weight rooms, focused all of my earth pony magic, and I bucked.
My hooves struck that griffon, just under her tail, struck at an upward angle, and she flew, spinning ass-over-beak, clean past Crescent, her sword clattering down, and she landed with a wet splat against the rocky ground, wings flapping and arms wrapped around her ruptured belly, screeching her agony.
I spun, ran, jumped over the body of a hippogriff, jumped over Rosemary Seasoning's corpse. Sergeant Flash and a hippogriff danced, wings flitting and legs pumping, sparring with each other, pirate's sword against Flash's wingblades. Cadance stood, her teeth gritted, looking up at the pegasus archers, her horn glowing to hold the shield.
A hippogriff bounded for her. I sprinted and leaped, tackling him just short of the Princess.
We tumbled, and something hit my chin. Blood filled my mouth. His sword flew away, gone. He kicked me in the flank, and the world flared for a moment and I gasped in agony as several of my ribs broke.
And then I was on top of him, I had him pinned, my lower legs clamped around his barrel, his wings mashed into the rock beneath me, my left forehoof pressing on his larynx.
The hippogriff snapped at me, razor-sharp beak flashing.
I drew my right forehoof back, cocked my right shoulder to deliver the killing stomp to his face...
Cadance screamed.
...I hesitated. His eyes, so much like a pony's, so much like everypony I had known and loved over the years...
"Redheart!" Sergeant Flash commanded. "Kill him!"
I stomped his beak, smashed it deep into his skull, and the wet splat thrilled me, gave me this feeling of success that to this day I’m still so ashamed of.
"Pirate!" I screamed at his dead face, and pulled by my forehoof back and stomped the ruins a second time. "Slaver! Did you rape any little fillies, too?"
Then I was up, bounding. Cadance went down, her hindquarters dropping, but she stayed up on her forehooves. A pegasus archer had landed on the ground and shouldered herself halfway through the edge of her dome. My vision narrowed down on the archer, focused on her cutie mark, to this day I remember the cutie mark was all red and silver but I just can't, can't, can't remember what it was a picture of, and I sprinted and slid under the bottom edge of the dome, skidding on my back on the rocky ground, grinding dirt into my camouflage cape and I kicked up with my rear legs, focusing my earth pony magic again onto the few square inches of my rear hooves' killing surface, and caught the archer just beneath her sternum.
She flew straight up about ten feet, wings limp, eyes and mouth opened wide in shock, and then she landed with a thud right next to me.
It was a mare, a young mare, probably younger than me, and Celestiadammit I was only twenty, and she vomited blood and sour acid on me, and she just started screaming, howling, this high pitched wail, her wings flapping against the rock. The stench of her ruptured guts was in my nose and she coughed, coughed blood and bile, and I was still flat on my back from my slide, so she puked on my face and into my eyes and my mouth and sweet Celestia to this day I still remember the taste of that dying pegasus's bile on my tongue.
I stood and backed up two steps, staring at the spreading pool around her.
The pirates on the ground were down, all dead or dying. Maybe ten total? Cadance dropped her shield dome. A half-dozen magic bolts flew from Cadance's horn, skewering each of the archers.
They fell, wet impacts sounding against the stone of the ridge.
"Redheart!" Flash shouted. "You hurt?"
I vomited next to the pegasus I'd just murdered.
"Redheart! Can you carry the Princess?"
I puked again, dropped to the ground, into the mixed puddle of her blood and my vomit. I stared into her eyes as she struggled for her last few breaths.
"Sweet Celestia... I... I'm sorry!"
I nosed into my cape. I had a few ampoules of painkiller in my pocket. I could help her, stop her suffering before she screamed again...
She keened, low in her throat, like a sick infant, too tired to cry.
"Mommy," the pegasus gasped. Her glazed eyes fixed on me. "Mommy?"
I heard the griffon I'd bucked screaming her head off, maybe ten yards distant, her voice ragged as she tore her throat apart.
Sergeant Flash put a gentle hoof on my withers. I jerked and almost bucked him.
"Redheart?" he asked. "Are you okay?"
I spit out some vomit and blood. "No, Sarge. I am not fucking 'okay.'"
"Redheart," he said, very quietly. "You did good. But I need my medic back. The Princess is wounded."
I took a few halting steps, stopped, shook my head and thrashed my tail, and then trotted to Cadance. We left the pegasus archer to die alone, begging for her mother in a pool of blood and shit and vomit.
The arrow stuck from the meaty part of Cadance's thigh. "Roll over," I commanded.
The griffon I had maimed kept on screaming, curled in a ball. I glanced at her, and saw her guts spilled out onto the rocky soil from her ruptured belly.
That Celestia-damned night-vision spell. Why did I have to see that?
The griffon's claws grabbed the gaping wound. Her blood burned the skin on my rear legs, burned like live coals. Crescent Pop levitated up his sword and split the griffon's spine, just below the skull, and the rocky escarpment turned silent, except for the blood pounding in my ears and Cadance's panting breaths.
I nosed my shears out of a pocket and snipped the feathered shaft off the arrow, and pushed the arrow out through Cadance's thigh. I had almost no kit, barely any bandages, since I was carrying only the contents of my cape's pockets and not my bags. I used my silk medic's chit—a fresh one, not the same one I had given to Wood Smoke and the raiders—to pack Cadance's wound, and then taped it in place.
Cadance stood. "Ow. Thank you, Private. You're covered in blood."
"You don't look so great yourself."
Cadance looked around, looked at Rosemary's corpse, looked at the smoking bodies of the pegasi she had skewered with her spell bolts. Her eyes widened as she recognized the deadly results of her magic, and Cadance vomited, too, her wings flared wide and her ears perked vertical as her belly heaved itself up.
Crescent wiped his sword on a dead archer's feathers. "Cadance is one of us, now. Welcome to Celestia's Own."
"Redheart, you wounded?" Flash asked.
I ran my tongue around my mouth and found two broken incisors. Several of my ribs were broken. They burned, and I couldn't take in even a full breath anymore before my diaphragm spasmed and I gasped against the burning pain. I looked at the hippogriff with the smashed head, and his brains burned where they stained my right foreleg.
My stomach heaved but I was able to swallow it down without vomiting again. My cutie marks seemed to flame, the exact opposite sensation of when they'd manifested eleven years before in the elementary school lunchroom as I wrapped my hooves around another filly's barrel and squeezed and popped the grape out of her windpipe. I looked down at my flank and lifted up my cloak, expecting my cutie marks to be gone, with black scar tissue in their place.
They were fine, the red cross and hearts laughing at me, making me into a joke, a murderer with the symbol of mercy forever on her ass.
"No, Sergeant," I lied. "I'm not wounded."
"Can you walk, Princess?" Flash asked.
She stood and took two steps. Her face paled and her jaw worked back and forth, the sound of grinding teeth so loud I could hear it over my heartbeat.
"Yes," Cadance said.
"Redheart, carry Rosemary Seasoning's body," Flash ordered. His right wing hung loose, bleeding. "We're out of here."
We made it back to our main camp on the beach just as dawn broke. Tender Jade took Rosemary's corpse from me, and Lieutenant Armor and Cadance shared a deep kiss.
The other troopers of the Battalion cheered them on.
"Jade," I said.
"Yeah, boss?"
"Cadance took an arrow to the right thigh. I got the arrow out, but it needs cleaned and disinfected right away. Then stitch it. Sergeant Flash injured his right wing. Stitch it and have him evacuated offshore."
"Yeah, Boss. What happened to you? Are you okay?"
"This isn't my blood."
"Whose is it?"
"Pirates'."
"Oh!" His face fell.
"I broke some teeth and some ribs," I said. My eyes darted around, left and right. My breath came fast, hyperventilating, vision tunneling down to just a narrow cone in front of my snout. I lowered myself to the ground, my legs suddenly as firm as overcooked oats. I had to turn my head to see him, my peripheral vision gone. "I'll come back later. I need... I need...."
"Yeah," Jade said. "I've got this."
I dropped my helmet and camouflage cloak on the floor of the medical tent and wandered down the beach, wearing only my gray medic's smock. The rising sun, combined with the night vision potion, was giving me a horrendous headache.
I found a tent on the beach. Staring at the tent, it took me a minute to recognize it. It was Third Battalion's Delta company aid station. I had dropped off one of our lightly wounded there several hours before, before Blueblood sent me on the patrol with Cadance.
I had seen Sapphire Bolt there earlier. The medic who treated me on the barge, and in the field hospital after my POW stint. We had shared a hoofbump and a few words before I returned to my own battalion. I stumbled into the tent, and saw Sapphire and two other medics I vaguely recognized.
"Redheart, what's wrong?" Sapphire said, looking up from reorganizing his supplies. "You're a mess."
I jumped on him, wrapped my forelegs around his neck, and sobbed. Keening and wailing, I just squeezed around his neck, my face buried against his chest. My tears rolled down my nose, and I nearly vomited into his coat, but I just dry heaved, heaved, heaved again.
His shoulders moved as he shrugged at the other two, and his hooves patted my back, rubbing up and down my spine.
"What's wrong? What's the matter?"
I sobbed, sobbed, sobbed. I don't know for how long, maybe five minutes, maybe an hour or more. Eventually, my face buried deep into his chest, I gasped out, "I killed three creatures. No... four! I'm a murderer."
"Sweet Celestia," he said, and rubbed my withers again.
I screamed and pounded my hooves into his chest.
"Wait!" another of the medics said. "Redheart, you're—you just bled out of your mouth."
I wiped my nose on my fetlock. "Broken teeth."
He got down, right in front of my face. "Cough."
"I'm fine," I snapped.
"Cough," he repeated.
I coughed... and deposited some bright-red blood on his face.
"Oh, that's..." I said.
He grabbed a stethoscope and listened to my right side, then my left. He opened my smock and said, "Goodness, Redheart, you're bruised. Those ribs are broken. I think you nicked a lung with a bone."
That got my attention. "Wait, really?"
"Yeah," he said. "Your breathing sounds rough."
I let go of Sapphire Bolt and slid down off him, onto the floor. Sapphire's chest was soaked with my tears. "I'm... I'm sorry. I need to go get checked out at my battalion. I'm, look. I'm sorry about the mess."
He brushed my cheek with his hoof, and then gave me a hug. "Take care of yourself, Redheart."
"You, too."
"We'll carry you," said one of Sapphire's companions, an earth stallion.
Sapphire levitated me onto the other medic's back, and they walked me back to my own aid station. The pain in my ribs flared into full-fledged agony by the time they got me there.
It's lucky I had found somepony to hold me and rock me through that first horrific hour. I might have done something rash otherwise. My whole life, my identity, right down to the cutie mark, was healing. Was mercy. And I'd killed four creatures. If I had not found somepony to pour my grief into, I might very well have...
Under that rising sun, my whole life was a lie and a waste and a mistake. Crying it out was my first step toward healing my soul, my mind. Now, fourteen years later, I won't say I'm anywhere close to finishing healing. Having Dandelion and Contrail, bringing new life into this world, our foals who grab life with such enthusiasm and wonder, has done more than anything else to help me. Being married to such a wonderful stallion, who loves me so unconditionally—that's helped me see that I'm more than just the sum of my horrible past.
But, no. To the day I die, however many decades from now Celestia and Luna may grant me, I will still hear the screams, smell the spilled brains, and taste the bloody bile of the pirates I killed on that ridgeline.
As they carried me up the beach back to my Battalion, I chanted to myself: "Eighteen, twelve, and four. Eighteen, twelve, and four."
Eighteen lives saved.
Twelve lives lost.
Four murdered.
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This is fucking great and very fucking traumatic at the same time.
As traumatic as it is. They were filthy pirates which showed no mercy to anyone. Redheart may be a medic, but in the eyes of those she encountered she was nothing but the enemy, and an enemy they had no issues taking her life. You can call yourself a murderer all you want, but when its you are the one being shot at. It's not murder, its self defense.
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Big thanks!
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Indeed! You might even notice her word choice changes from the past of her story to the present of her Ponyville, symbolic of her changing perspectives.
Oh man I’m really enjoying this also you’re on featured again I hope for more at the same quality or better because this is really fucking good
Poor Redheart, she's gone through so much and it only keeps getting worse!
Great Chapter! Your War-Vet stories are just so damn good! I particularly like how you make sure to clarify the cost of the wars, not just on the resources or morale of a country, but also on the individual price soldiers, and even civilians pay. To be honest, this story highly resembles an EaW story, with the amount of detail and effort put into the war/aftermath descriptions.
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Big thanks! I appreciate the words. I'll be honest: my interest isn't in war stories per se; I like writing about characters, and I thought that a pony with a cutie mark for mercy, caught in a dirty, filthy conflict without any laws of war, was a tool to explore her character.
Thanks for the words! I hope the later chapters are as good and don't disappoint!
Wow.
Even though Redheart is telling the story and thus can't die, the scene where she's telling her brothers she's doomed was really intense.
Everything leading up to the fight later in the chapter just filled me with dread, to the point that the fight itself was almost a relief. The way you drag us into Redheart's emotional ordeal is very effective.
It's probably just as well you aren't releasing the chapters all at once, because each of the "action" chapters leaves me stressed out and mentally tired.
So, well done, but poor Redheart.
Scarlet's stared death in the face twice now and still lives. Maybe she's a Wedge Antilles and gets to survive the whole story, but I don't dare to hope.
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Thank you once again! Comments like this keep me writing. It's east to try to write suspense, but you never know if it landed until it's in front of people. Thanks!
I recently heard Frederik Pohl's quote about writing stories: "A good science fiction story should be able to predict not the automobile but the traffic jam." In the same way, a story about peaceful ponies that go to war should predict a few things. I've been keeping casual track of those moments that have impressed me, though this is by no means exhaustive.
1) What pacifists would be willing to kill for - rescuing creatures from slavery.
2) A view of Celestia's private face as she sends her little ponies off to die - Redheart glimpsing the Princess through her spyglass.
3) What happens when a princess is deployed - Blueblood is in command, but Cadance exerts her "alicorn privilege".
4) The reaction when a pony who literally lives to heal does the opposite - "Eighteen, twelve, and four".
5) How ordinary civilians would see those in Celestia's Own - I've been somewhat surprised by this one, as there's been nothing but respect and admiration from those who have learned Redheart was deployed. I'm expecting at some point the story will address those citizens who are absolutely repulsed by someone willing to serve in this way.
I am loving every chapter. Thank you for showing that there are some things worth fighting for.
I loved this moment - just Redheart confiding in AP, and them affirming their bond. It's nice!
Unfortunately, this seems to be the weakest chapter by far, by virtue of it being so short - not that it's bad, not at all. Just, I wish it could have been more, heh
That being said, this chapter is sandwiched between the two most riveting, visceral chapters I've read thus far. Where do I even begin with this one?
First off, it's nice to see Redheart unwind - in her own way, hehe.
But she'll never leave her scars behind, and that is the bitter reality. It's bittersweet that no matter how hard she tries to come back, it'll always be a strange land for her now, this peaceful time. But she'll try,
Politics? Perhaps. But Redheart isn't forgotten, and her story will live on when she passes, eventually.
Her job's never done
I'll let the text speak for itself, and so, I'll quote only this part. But you can just feel the weight of Equestria's history through Redheart's telling... and her pondering if, one day, there will come a time when she is no longer needed on the battlefield. She's a part of that history now, and she knows it all too well.
I'll be here all day, if I quote every single beautiful, poignant, tearjerking line and moment in this segment. But overall, the first half of it was simply a perfect, perfect retelling of what Redheart has to go through, every time she comes back. The parades, bonding with her family, and the ordeal of dealing with her wounds... mentally and physically. Her siblings may want to join her, but for as glamorous the parades are, for how much Equestria takes care of their own (although college bits in exchange for military service is a bit concerning. To stake your education on your life - this is the one thing I'm a little unsure about with this take on Equestria), Redheart knows the harsh truth that her life isn't something she'd wish on anyone, her siblings most of all.
And then she sees the veteran, and Redheart may just have seen her future... if she was lucky. It's what I said, earlier. Bittersweet, and every part of it makes you feel for her. Just... damn.
The next segment, of course, deserves a part of its own. Because here is where that harsh truth comes out in full force.
The first few scenes are a nice mood-setter, and I'm taking an aside to say that I do love fics where Cadance is active
Plus, this builds on Celestia wanting Equestria to accept their newest princess. Cadance isn't just praised for show. She lives up to it.
Like the previous segment, I'd be here all day, if I were to outline every moment that pops out to me (but I will, naturally). Because, with its intensity and brutal, unforgiving nature, despite the small scale... my goodness, where do I begin? First, the calm just before the storm, Celestia's Own preparing for the scrap that came very soon, the fear and apprehension in everyone when they know it's coming, and the stakes of what they need to do. And then before they can all process it, it began.
This is both the perfect mood-setter... and the perfect summary of what did follow. Buckle up. We're being pulled into it, whether we like it or not.
Nothing but your eyes and other senses and they're not answering you right. Everything is crashing down, like water upon the rocks. Nothing makes sense. Here, all you have is your own wit and will, and no one else exists. It's only her, her alone that matters for this, only her and the ground beneath her, and damned if she wasn't going to make it out alive.
There's just no time, no time to breathe or stop and think. You're being dragged into it, aye. You're forced to gasp for air, but there's no time for that, either.
Do no harm, do no harm, it'd be echoing in her for the rest of her live. The gloves were off, no quarter and yet... even now, she had to take a moment right then and there to assure herself it was right. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it wasn't. Nothing else matters right then. Only the guilt that followed, for the rest of her life.
There is no glory in this scrap. No heroic sacrifices. Nothing to be proud of. Getting out of there alive, getting everyone out of there alive, that would be little comfort. No. For Redheart, there is no greater shame than being forced to break her soul's creed, her destiny to heal. It had to be done, otherwise she'd be the one gasping and screaming upon the bloodstained ground.
But it never gets easier, and she knows it. She'll carry this for the rest of her life, she'll beat herself with it, because if not... that's herself, gone forever.
A harsh reminder. But something she needs, lest she lose herself.
Two of the best chapters, by far. One for a medic's duty. One for what follows, and the lowest point. Both intense and visceral and so very cruel. Both chapters that pulled us in to what it means to be someone who gives the mercy of healing on the battlefield.
This one showed the harsh truth of Redheart. No one understands what it's like to be her, back home. And here, in the field, sometimes there's no one else but her in fleeting moments... and yet...
...there remains the shining light in the dark. No matter how far she's fallen, there will always be there someone for her.
Here's to her tale, always, and on to the next one
Beautiful! I do want to see a story of her nursing school or nurse days now, too!
Ffffffffff*** that was brutal. Poor girl to go threw that.
I've just realized that subtly showing your Cutie Mark is like an Equestrian "Do You Know What I Do For A Living?".
It's a potion, but I don't think she was in the right mind to remember.
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Oh, big thanks! I really appreciate it.
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Thanks for the detailed comment!
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Thank you for taking the time!
...meaning, she recieved an injury bad enough that she's no longer eligible for service?
Redheart's obessive counting of the people she's saved, lost, and murdered seems to indicate some really troubling issues to me. She has an obsessive need to prove that she's "worth it", in the sense that she saves more ponies than she loses.
And, once again, I love the worldbuilding. I especially like the idea of the "common enemy of all races." Very clever and well-done!
This story is tough to read, but I think it's an important one. It helps us understand a little more of what it means to be a nurse, combat medic or no, and shows what a toll it takes on people. Very well done!
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Thanks for the comment! And yes, she's not OCD but she is very detail-orieted; how often does she reorganize her bags? Her life is so out of control that keeping count is one of the few things she can do to impose order on the chaos that has replaced her life.
"The common enemy of all races" is, of course, a very thin ponification of the IRL international law of hostis humani generis, the common enemy of all mankind.
Yeah, Redheart really needs to get out as soon as she can. She looks like she's in that fatalistic, self-destructive spiral which is going to get her killed. also is that a serious injury for every fight she's been in now?
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In regards to the Hostis sapiens generis I think this works well, it doesn't feel like a cheap ponification. Sure you could go the route of creating an original language for the ponies like some other stories I have read, but here, it isn't really necessary, you have already done an excellent job with worldbuilding showing us Redheart's pain; her deepest dreams and her darkest nightmares. The Latin gives it a certain weight that you wouldn't get with plain English. If I was to fall into your Equestria right now, I would stand at attention and salute Nurse Redheart, I spent my four years of high school as a member of the NJROTC (Naval Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps). Had medical conditions that I had at the time not gotten in the way, it is possible that I might have joined the Navy in some capacity.
I'll look forward to seeing what you have in store for her next.
Militibus de Caelestius non desera
Et milites Caelestibus, sol invictus semper perseveraret!
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one other thought, I put your phrase through google translate and fiddled around with the Latin/English translation and came up with something that you might like instead. Mind, this is just an idea I was playing around with, I personally think your phrase is fine as is. But if you really feel that your phrase is in need of some work I managed to get something that more or less directly translates to 'Enemy of all species': hostis omnium specierum
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Thanks for the comments! I like your Latin phrase! One reason I went with hostis sapiens generis, however, is that dropping it into Google get you a "Did you mean..." for the IRL term!
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The next chapter will bring us to the final setting, and leave off on the big cliffhanger before the conclusion!
... Bloody Hell...
No, even that is an absolute understatement.
I'm speechless, I honestly don't know what I should say. Obviously the amount of detail and effort put into this story is outstanding, shattering the readers feelings, or at least mine.
Absolutely brilliant SockPuppet, this is just a brilliant piece of work.
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While I'm left feeling speechless, you've gone and said everything my thoughts would probably say. I appreciate your level of detail in your comment.
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Thanks! I am pleased you're enjoying it!
Training. The surgeons also play Operation in their free time. On a side note, back in the university we had some classes at the surgical ward and we found some House MD DVDs in the doctors' room.
Also, Murphy's law for the day: a Wounded in Action badge just goes to prove that were you smart enough to think of a plan, stupid enough to try it, and lucky enough to survive.
Btw, I need to brush up on my ophthalmology, but I get the feeling retinal injuries and physical exercise are not a good mix.
"We're just medics, sir. We're meant to be expendable."
"Not to me."
She shouldn't have to. Nopony should. But if not them, then who?
With cutie mark callings, I expect a lot of Guards are in it for life... but a lot fewer medics.
Traumatic but sometimes, the only way to save a life, is to take one. It's hard to accept Redheart, but that's sadly reality
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Fixed!
Goddamn, finally got around to reading the rest of your story and still left speechless. This is by far the best chapter so far. Just the emotions, the pain, the perspective.
This is an inspiration.
Pandemic?
She's 20. I guess she started training for this before boot camp?
Redheart really needs therapy for what she went through and I hope she managed to leave the military after this since she can't take much more.
I wounder how much 4 taken lifes weight agenst 18 saved.
I know this is supposed to connect to the US, so focus on it making sense in Equestria is less important. But Celestia is messed up for not having free college and forcing people to serve. I mean I know this is really about the US but thinking in Universe
Just finished the chapter, my god
I mean, her KD ratio is still positive, so I guess that's a plus? Poor Redheart...