Red Banners, Red Stains

by BurgerFanMan

Chapter 12/GLA: Calmly Disembarking

We implore the oppressed; pick up your weapons! Fight for your freedom, and for the freedom of those who cannot fight!

[The GLA, or the Global Liberation Army, depending on who you ask, is either a terrorist or a freedom fighting force. They have lost relevance recently, reduced to hiding in third world countries and encouraging civil dissent in Asia and Africa. They were all but forgotten by the four major powers with the beginning of the Third World War.

This was a mistake. The GLA, while fractured and spread thin by the loss of their leaders, is not to be underestimated. Its supporters lie within every country and military force in the world, silently working to undermine every side in the War and further the goals of the GLA.

I would say the real motto of the GLA is 'peace through violence.']

A Train, ???. August 7th, 2045. 10:59 AM

Captain Linton stared at the clock with almost-shut eyes as Sergeant Ali finished his story, pretending to be resting. Over the past few minutes, he had been watching their guards closely. The pony to Linton's right had grown more relaxed, evidently convinced that the prisoners weren't going to try anything, but the one directly in front of Linton was still completely professional, keeping an eye on each of the soldiers.

Linton would have to deal with him first.

Outside, the scenery had abruptly switched from deserted, barren ice land to much more temperate the plains in the span of minutes. They had passed buildings with increasing frequency, leading Linton to suspect they were approaching the destination of the train.

The minute and second hands of the fancy clock both struck twelve.

In a single, fluid motion, Linton leaped forward. He kicked the first pony under the muzzle and lunged at the pony on the right, reaching for his sword. The pony reflexively shoved Linton into the space between the two benches, fumbling for his sword handle.

Linton backed towards the door as Pavlov stood up and tried to stop the second pony from unsheathing his sword. The first pony, recovering from Linton's sudden attack, managed to unsheath his own sword. He attempted to drive it into Pavlov's back, but the blade was knocked aside by Ali's bare fist and drove a scratch into Pavlov's back instead.

Mentally noting the not insignificant amount of blood trickling from Pavlov's back, Linton grabbed the sword handle of the first pony. He tugged it towards himself, disbalancing the pony and allowing Linton to fire a good kick at his head. The pony crumpled to the floor, out cold, releasing the sword.

Next to him, Sergeant Ali and Pilot Pavlov had managed to force the second pony to the ground and knocked it unconscious. Ali withdrew the sheathed sword, inspecting it.

The swords were unwieldy in the confined space of the train, but light and well-balanced. Linton had some experience with swords- many GLA soldiers did- but had never used them in actual combat.

"Plan, Captain?" asked Ali in his usual, unconcerned, relaxed tone. He gave the sword an experimental jab.

A shift in Linton's stomach indicated that the train was slowing down slightly. Looking outside the small window of the compartment, he could see that they were now in a sub-urban area, with a barrier of trees running parallel to the track hiding a row of bleak, East-European style townhouses.

"We disembark early," decided Linton.

Pavlov gave a grimace, half-sitting on one of the benches. The back of his shirt was doused red. "Comrade, I don't think I'm ready to go leaping off moving trains."

Linton helped him up with one arm, holding his sword in his left. "Nonsense. Let's move, fast."

Ali skirted around them to the door. Despite the minor commotion, none of the ponies had come to check on them.

"What about the other guys?"

"Every man for themselves. We hold off any enemy reinforcements while they try escaping. Two minutes," ordered Captain Linton. He was banking on the hope that their fellow soldiers would be able to escape with similar ease. He also suspected that most, if not all, of the ponies had been assigned to guard them, so they would have little trouble keeping the rest at bay.

"Roger." Ali slid open the door and filed out into the cramped corridor that ran down the left side of the carriage.

Captain Linton followed, shouting as loud as he could, "SMASH THE TYRANTS!" It was a common code phrase used when triggering sleeper cells.

Shouting and the general noise of fist-to-fist combat erupted from the compartments around them.

---

"SMASH THE TYRANTS!"

Talcite looked up from her document as the faint shout rang through the carriage. She sighed, grabbing a short sword from the open locker against the wall and tucking it into her harness. She had expected the prisoners to attempt an escape, but had hoped it would start a bit later.

She was with Intel, Med, the wounded Imperial soldier, and two other soldiers, in the soldiers' carriage of the train. It was two carriages behind where they were keeping the prisoners and was separated into a corridor, through which civilians were allowed, and a secure armory room with barracks beds.

"Med, Comms, wait here. Med, keep that guy stable. Comms, contact command," directed Intel. He was already wearing a heavy officers' armour suit which protected his body and upper legs from both sharp blades and gunshots, powered partially by glowing magic crystals lining its sides. The agent took the last short sword from the locker. "You two, come with me."

The two Imperial soldiers, already armed, followed Intel out into the corridor. Comms grabbed the radio set and once again tuned to command.

"Alpha, this is 1-Comms."

The radio was silent for a moment. A nondescript female buzzed back, "1-Comms, send traffic."

"Alpha, prisoners may be attempting a breakout. Intel has moved to assist IA. Advise."

"Say again, 1-Comms."

When command asked you to repeat a statement, it usually meant because a superior officer had been called to listen in. Talcite hoped that this was the case, since it mean the situation was being taken seriously.

"Prisoners may be attempting to escape. Please advise."

The response was almost instant. "1-Comms, subdue the prisoners. Use lethal force if necessary. A rapid response force will clear civilians from the station and deal with the threat. How long out are you?"

Talcite looked out the barred window of the carriage. She vaguely knew the area from Agency lessons- they were in a town on the eastern outskirts of the Crystal City, which was practically the only city in the whole of the Crystal Empire. It was only split up into 'towns' for administrative purposes. This town only had one train station, at which they were stopping.

"Less than five minutes, Alpha."

"Understood, 1-Comms. You and Med are to support Intel."

Talcite glanced at the wounded Imperial soldier on the ground. Med was still focused on treating him.

"Alpha, Med is providing care for an injured Imperial Army soldier. Critical condition."

The pony on the other end paused.

"1-Comms, this is Alpha. Leave him. Focus on the mission"

"Understood, Alpha." Talcite turned off the transmitter and hoisted the radio set onto her saddlebag. "Med, let's go."

Med didn't hesitate, leaving the pony on the ground and gearing up. As they left the armory, Talcite glanced back at the dying pony.

He stared right into her eyes.

---

Sergeant Ali darted to the left, leaving Linton to help Pavlov along as he moved down the right corridor. He glanced through the windows of the two compartments.

In the first one, two GLA soldiers were smashing the head of a lone, struggling guard against the door while another pony lay unconscious or dead on one of the benches, two more soldiers standing over it. They obviously didn't need help, so Linton checked the other compartment.

A bloody, chaotic melee was going on here. Two sheathed swords lay unattended on the ground as the two ponies fought hoof-to-fist with the GLA soldiers.

Linton couldn't tell who was winning, so he set Pavlov down by the corridor wall, threw open the door, and tried to drive the sword in the flank of the nearest pony. The pony dodged onto one of the benches, but one of the soldiers- the squad's sniper, Corporal Hugo if he remembered correctly- grabbed the pony by the muzzle and smashed its head against the wall repeatedly.

Seeing the other two soldiers ganging up on the other pony, Linton decided that his help wasn't needed anymore.

Back in the corridor, Pavlov had sunk to the ground. His face was pale but he wore a determined grimace on his face as he attempted to stand back up.

"Take it easy, Pilot." Captain Linton helped him back onto his feet, looking over the wound. The bleeding seemed to have lessened. Hopefully Pavlov would last a little longer.

The four prisoners in the first compartment had rushed down the left side of the corridor to try aid Sergeant Ali. He was locked in a fierce sword fight with a pony at the end of the corridor, where a door opened to the platform between the carriages. Although Ali had a height advantage, the pony was clearly more experienced, expertly deflecting blows and repeatedly trying to stab at Ali's ankles. The soldiers were unable to help in the cramped corridor.

This pony wore an armor plate that covered its whole torso, and had bland, slightly ragged clothing rather than the professional dull red uniform of the other ponies. He was steadily pushing Sergeant Ali back, forcing the trio to awkwardly stumble backwards. It seemed that the pony had the advantage over the Sergeant.

Just as Linton began to drop Pavlov on the ground to try and help, the sliding door of the compartment they were crossing flew off its hinges, pinning the armored pony against the outer wall out of the train. Four more GLA soldiers flooded out, one of them holding a short sword that looked like it would be more effective in this situation.

"Fetch everyone else, then gather at the front! Hurry!" ordered Captain Linton. He shifted Pavlov's arm onto this shoulders and carried him towards the front end of the carriage. Here, instead of another compartment, there was an open space with a couple of sofas and a coffee table.

Linton threw open the door on the side of the carriage. It was wide and heavy, but swung outwards easily. Howling wind rushed into the carriage, mixed with the rumble of the train's wheels.

There was some distance between the train and the row of short, leafy trees, and the train had slowed down considerably in the past minute. Linton guessed that they were approaching a station; if they wanted to jump, they had to do it soon.

A GLA soldier came alongside Linton, hoisting Pavlov's other arm on his own shoulders. "Captain? Do we have a plan?"

Linton leaned outside slightly, but his view to the front of the train was blocked by the open door. "We're going to jump. How many men are left?"

"We have everyone except Private Aleksander. He was under heavy guard. Sergeant Ali is helping rescue him, but it's going to be bloody."

Nodding in response, Linton directed, "Get everyone here. We should jump in a similar timeframe so we don't get separated. See if you can grab any medical equipment for the Pilot."

"Understood, brother."

The soldier darted down the corridor as a dozen GLA soldiers filed into the small lounge, taking up positions by the front door and the opening to the corridor. Linton looked around at them. Some of them sported visible bruises and limps, but no one seemed badly wounded.

This was going exceptionally well.

A few seconds later, Sergeant Ahmed arrived with another half dozen soldiers, with Ali bringing up the rear. A couple of ponies kept a wary distance from them as they helped the armored pony up from under the door.

"Sergeants, make sure everyone gets off. Regroup at me if we get separated. Go!" Linton didn't waste any time, flinging Pavlov ungracefully out the door with his sword and leaping out himself, keeping his body low and sliding along the dirt to reduce the impact. The train had slowed down significantly by now, moving at only about forty or fifty kilometers an hour, so the impact didn't cause him any injury. Pavlov also seemed OK.

The train by, rushed uncomfortably close to Linton's head. He scooted forward, grabbed his sword, and stood up.

The rest of the GLA soldiers were scattered across the grass, slightly dazed but mostly uninjured. The two Sergeants were already on their feet, helping up other soldiers and distributing the melee weapons they had collected.

The train chugged on, drawing out of sight as it turned a corner.

Linton's view of the townhouses was mostly blocked by the trees, but he could glimpse a seemingly empty street through the trees. Thin, black smoke wafted above, indicating the houses were inhabited.

Despite everything, Linton held an irrational hope that the only talking ponies here were the ones on the train, that they were not in fact in some strange, alien land, and that in those houses were regular, normal humans.

He sighed to himself, mentally set aside the thoughts, and stumbled over to where Pavlov was lying face-down on the ground.

"Pilot? Can you hear me?"

Pavlov's left hand curled into a thumbs up. Linton smiled slightly as called for Sergeant Ahmed Woods. The Pilot had a strong spirit and had cooperated perfectly with them so far, which he was sure would continue until they came across the Russians again- if they ever did.

With the help of Woods, he picked up Pavlov by the legs. The rest of the GLA soldiers had organised themselves into a sort of protective circle, keeping Captain Linton safe from any sudden attacks. At the command of Linton, they filtered through the narrow gaps in the trees on to the street.

The street was narrow and laid with cracked cobbled stone. To the left was an abrupt ending to the street, with an unfinished concrete husk of a building blocking the way. To the right, the street curved away, following the tracks.

The buildings themselves were remarkably similar to old European townhouses, except for their slightly bleaker and less artful architecture. Gathering storm clouds above added to this feeling, but there was the occasional bright piece of cloth and flowerbed that helped to offset the feeling. Linton guessed that no one wealthy would be living so close to the loud railway.

There was no one in sight, either human or pony. The soldiers were tense, moving down the street with wary care. No one spoke. Most of the windows and doors were closed or boarded up.

Sergeant Ali pointed down an opening between the townhouses. Linton let another soldier help carry Pavlov and rushed forward to join Ali.

The clear, cobbled alley sloped downwards and curved to the right. Just like on the street above, there was no one here. The occasional wooden door faced the alley from the otherwise blank sides of the townhouses.

"Let's reorganise here, and get Pavlov some medical aid," decided Linton. The GLA soldiers filed into the alley, clearly relieved to get some rest after the physically taxing ordeal they had just been through. They needed time to mentally process their situation, too.

Two of the soldiers got to work treating Pavlov, with one of them using a stolen bottle of expensive-looking alcohol to disinfect the wound while the other ripped a piece of cloth into a bandage.

Linton sat down with his back against one of the walls, between Corporal Hugo and Private Aleksander.

"I shot one of the ponies," said Aleksander in a mournful tone, "after they knocked you out, Captain."

Unsure whether the soldier expected praise or sympathy, Linton responded, "I see..."

"But it didn't change anything, Captain. What if they die? It'll have been for nothing, and it's my fault. I..." Aleksander seemed desperate for some justification for his decision.

Captain Linton could provide none.

"You did what you did, Private." The trio lapsed into silence. The other soldiers were talking in low, muttering tones, likely discussing what they had seen on the train. Linton tried to put it together in his own head.

Talking, apparently sentient horses, operating a train much like humans would. Ponies with sparkling coats that shone in the light, wearing red uniforms and wielding swords. A temperate heaven right next to snowy hills.

A shout suddenly rang out from up the alley, coming from the street. Linton could hear the drumming of several boots- or hooves- on the cobbled stone, along with barked orders.

He cursed under his breath and signaled for the soldiers to move down the alley. They quickly collected their equipment, with two soldiers picking up a now-stable Pavlov, and followed Captain Linton at a quiet sprint down the alley.

Unfortunately, they had been either seen or heard by their assailants. The sound of hooves followed them and the shouting became more urgent. Linton quickened his pace, hoping his soldiers could keep up. The alley here was lined with the backs of the townhouses as before, and was equally deserted. It split up at sections, forking into more routes or joining back up to the streets.

Before long, Linton was utterly lost. He continued running as the sound of hooves got gradually closer. They had a close call when he spotted two red-uniformed ponies guarding the next corner, and they were forced to backtrack slightly to go down an offshoot of the alley.

The GLA soldiers passed a trio of surprised young ponies in civilian clothing, who darted to get out of their way. Linton ignored them. They continued on for a couple of minutes, taking random turns to try and confuse their chasers, but the noise of their boots meant that they couldn't lose them, and they couldn't run forever.

He stopped at the sight of four ponies facing the other direction ahead of them, manning a wooden barricade. There was nowhere to go here. The group backtracked slightly to stay out of sight of the checkpoint.

Linton looked around desperately as his soldiers caught up silently, preparing themselves for a battle. They only had half a dozen swords, and only the Sergeants were remotely experienced in using them. Linton found himself staring through the window of the back of the nearest building, where a set of eyes peered back at him. They disappeared almost immediately behind a drawn curtain.

The sound of hoofsteps was getting gradually louder as their hunters got closer. Linton tried to think of something, anything, to get them out of this situation, but there was none.

Just as it sounded like the ponies were going to round the corner and find them, a nearby wooden door flew open. A melodic male voice called from the shadows within, "Get in! Quickly!"

Sergeant Ali made the decision for them, sprinting inside without hesitation. Captain Linton followed, and the rest of the soldiers filed into the dark room.

The door shut behind them with the click of a lock, shutting off any light source. The room was damp and chilly, and there was no further noise from their unexpected saviour.

The group waited expectantly for the door to burst open, for the ponies to find them, but nothing happened.

After a few tense minutes, Linton finally spoke up. "I think they're gone. Everyone here?"

There was a general murmur of agreement. Someone swore as they bumped into a wooden object. The voice that had invited them inside spoke up again.

"Ah, my bad. I'll get a candle."

There was the sound of something being struck, and a flickering candle lit up from the far corner of the room. As Linton's eyes adjusted to the light, he saw who had spoken.

A trio of ponies in workers' clothes, with a green band each on their front hooves, stood on the corner of what appeared to be an old cellar with stone walls. There were steps leading up to another heavy wooden door at the end.

"Welcome," said one of the ponies, "to the Crystal Protection Militia."

Author's Note:

Quick note: this GLA is slightly more toned down than the Generals one. I didn't think people would feel comfortable reading about full-blown terrorism and suicide bombers, so I'm choosing not to include that. That doesn't mean it won't be as goofy or chaotic as ever, though!

As always, let me know what you all think in the comments!