Pony Tankers

by Michael Spruce

4, Minty

They had left the marsh behind and had been traveling cross-country through stands of young birch trees surrounded by dense patches of berry bushes, dodging several more marshes on the way. This was a low country that ordinarily got a lot of rainfall, Minty could tell. In the midst of one of those tall stands of birch, Supercharger abruptly brought the tank to a halt.

“Did I order you to stop, corporal?” Summer said frostily.

“The engine’s about to overheat,” Supercharger clipped back. “I can’t take it any farther today.”

Summer unlocked her hatch and pushed it open. They all heard it; a steady hissing noise coming from the back of the tank. She stuck her head out and looked back. Minty and Thrash opened their hatches and looked back as well.

Issuing off the engine deck was a wispy stream of foul chemical white steam. The hissing sound came from under the engine cover on Minty’s side, and not from the engine itself, and she surmised the problem before Supercharger said it out loud for them.

“The radiator’s been damaged,” she said, standing on the hull behind Summer, since the turret was still rotated backwards. Summer half turned back, paused, and put a hoof up to her face. She studied the surrounding bushes with unusual intensity, but Minty wasn’t fooled; she knew the unicorn was hiding a blush.

“I’ll have to take a look at it before it gets too dark.” Supercharger jumped past Summer down to the engine deck and pulled open the cover. Minty sank back into her seat and looked at Summer, who remained in her pose of affected focus. She sighed. Thrash sat on his pack and began cleaning his rifle, working the ramrod slowly. The cleaning patches each came out black with carbon buildup, and he flicked them outside. Cashmere fidgeted in her seat anxiously, hoof on her carbine.

Then Supercharger climbed out of the engine compartment with an announcement. “One of those grenades really tore up the radiator. I think I can patch the worst of it, but we’re going to need some water to fill it with, or we won’t get very far.”

“And then we can move on,” Summer said. “It is imperative that we reach our forces as soon as possible.”

“Ma’am?” Minty spoke up.

“Yes?”

“Respectfully, I don’t think that would be wise, ma’am. We ought to stay here for the night.”

“On the contrary. If we’re being followed, we should move on as swiftly as we can,” Summer countered. “And if that encounter means what I think it means, we should head for our assigned infantry group right away.”

Minty leveled a look at Summer. “That is true,” she said. “But I think if anyone was keen on following us, they would have done so already, and I haven’t seen any sign of that. We’re stuck moving at a pony’s pace, so whether we move on or not, we’re not getting away from anyone. I think it’s more important that we get some rest, while we can. The army will keep. And besides,” she continued, making a motion like flipping up a new page of an imaginary notebook for each point, “if we did keep going, we would be stumbling around in the dark, with possible enemies around, in a marshy area, with a bad engine. I don’t think we can survive another encounter like that if they come up on us in the dark, especially not since they seem to be using anti-tank rifles.”

Summer paused, and to Minty’s relief, she seemed to be rethinking things. She looked conflicted for a moment, then said, “Noted, corporal,” and looked away. She turned on the roof light again and pulled out her map and studied it for a moment. “Very well. We’ll stop for the night. Corporal Supercharger, how much water do we need?”

“About…” Supercharger cast around. “One of these.” She grabbed the handle of one of their two emergency fuel canisters in her mouth, pulled it free of its carrying box atop the left mud guard, and held it up. “Oh…”

Fuel dribbled down the side of the can where it had been perforated by several bullets. She set it down and pulled up the other one, and it leaked from a bad dent in the side, but was obviously still mostly full.

“Hmm,” Summer said, holding a hoof to her muzzle thoughtfully. “Empty what we have left into the fuel tanks. Enlisted Metal, there should be a pond in…” and Summer paused to think, “That direction. Take both empty cans and fill them up.”

So, Minty thought, one for the radiator and one for future leaks on the road, and Summer didn’t want the pony to make a second trip that far out.

“But, sir –” protested Thrash.

“Ma’am,” Minty automatically corrected him.

“…Ma’am, I can’t carry both cans at once.”

Minty kept to herself how Cashmere could probably manage it with that balancing trick she used so much.

Summer tossed her head and snorted. “So it’s a two-pony job, then – have somepony go with you.”

Thrash nodded and started climbing out. Supercharger jumped down off the side of the tank with the dented can in her mouth and batted a clump of foliage hanging from a roller wheel aside. Fixing a spout to the cannister, she popped open the fuel fill cap and emptied the can inside, then poured in what dregs she could of the second, holed cannister.

When she set the can down, Thrash moved up to put the lids back on. “I’ll go with you to get these cans filled up,” Supercharger offered.

“Sure, let’s do it,” Thrash answered. Their heads started bending close together; Minty took action.

She slid herself through her hatch and dropped in between them and picked up a can, incidentally the one with the bullet-holes. “I’ll do it,” she said, around the object in her mouth. “You,” she rounded on Supercharger, forcing the pegasus to move back or get bumped with the steel object, “Nee’ t’ phatch up th’ radiator.” She gave Supercharger a warning look and turned to go in the direction Summer had indicated.

“She’s right,” Thrash said, with a shrug. He picked up the dented can and followed.

As Minty walked away, she heard Summer ordering Cashmere to help her with her tent, and she privately shook her head.

They walked together in silence through the gathering twilight. Minty kept on the alert for anything amiss, an enemy scout or observation flying machine. A vague direction wasn’t much to go off of, but they stuck to heading downhill, and when the air began to smell slightly of decaying plants, she knew she was heading the right direction. Little lightning-bugs began to dance among the grass. Thrash kept to himself for the entire walk, thankfully.

When they reached the pond, Thrash had no problem filling his cannister, and he set it down by a clump of reeds and watched her. Minty ignored him and thought about her problem. Her cannister could barely hold any water, with its holes. She needed something to plug it with. She looked around for a suitable area of ground, and, spotting one nearby, walked over and began scratching at it sharply with the end of her hoof.

“Got a cigarette?” Thrash asked, breaking the silence between them.

“You can stop pretending,” Minty grunted, separating a plug of sod out of the ground and pulling it up with her teeth. “I know you have your own.”

Thrash chuckled. “You got me,” he said, undoing the top button of his jacket to reach the inside pocket. Shaking out a Shetland-brand cigarette, the good kind, from his pack, he put it between his lips and fumbled for his matchbook. “You know,” he said, when he found it and struck one, briefly illuminating his face with the small flame, “You smoke a lot more than most mares I know. Mind if I ask why?”

“Know a lot of mares, do you?” Minty said. She fitted the sod plug in one of the larger bullet holes, and bent to separate out another from the hard turf.

Thrash grinned in the darkness; the lit point of his cigarette bobbed with the movement. “Quite a few, and that’s why I’m wondering about you.”

He moved closer. Minty wanted to move away, but the patch of ground she needed was right where she was. “That’s a light hazard,” she informed him, bending to pick up another plug. “You should know better, being an infantrypony.”

“Then why do you?”

“I was an artillerypony,” she replied. “We weren’t close enough for it to give away our position. Especially since…” she swallowed and closed her eyes. The sight of her big gun, rendered twisted metal by a direct bomb strike. A stallion dying in her hooves. “Their aerial patrols knew where we were anyway. No point not to do it, really.”

“Okay, but why so much?”

“The war!” Minty snapped irritably, with uncharacteristic fierceness. Now was not the time to remember that. She dragged the fuel cannister over to the pond and dipped it in experimentally. One of the plugs popped out and sank to the bottom. She sighed. “You’re being a very nosy pony, you know that?”

“I just want to learn a little more about this cute mare I met today,” he replied.

She snorted in disbelief. “You’d go after anything with a pulse. Besides, don’t you have a marefriend?”

He waved a hoof dismissively and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess I do. But she isn’t you.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled, moving around to the opposite side of the patch of turf and digging at the ground there.

“Tell me about yourself? How about it?” he said, taking a casual step closer. The end of his cigarette flared brightly as he took a drag.

“Maybe,” Minty said, digging out the outline of a slightly larger plug than last time.

“Fine, then, be that way. So, if I had to guess, you’re from… Fillydelphia?”

“Manehatten,” she corrected. How could he possibly get the accents confused?

“Ah, the city that never sleeps. I don’t feel like sleeping right now either – funny thing. So, you were a typist before the war? I’ve never seen a typewriter for a cutie mark before.”

“Secretary.”

“Same difference,” he said, sidling closer. “You know, you’re being a very boring pony with these answers.”

“Thanks,” Minty said, distractedly, tugging at some stubborn roots. “I always was a boring pony. I was quite proud of it. Only really hung out with workmates sometimes.”

“Well, I’m a workmate,” he said, moving closer and shifting the cigarette to the corner of his mouth. She raised her head to tell him to back off. “And you’re not boring to me.”

And he kissed her.

For a few long seconds, their lips met. Minty was too shocked and confused to move. It tasted like smoke and ash, but then, ash was her constant baseline. She thought she detected an undertone of… chocolate?

Then, the moment passed, and she recovered herself. Just as he took her inaction as acceptance and leaned in to the kiss some more, she scrambled backward, hooves slipping on the soft ground. A crimson blush adorned her cheeks that he probably couldn’t see in the near-darkness.

“Wh- what was that for?” she sputtered. Why did her first kiss have to be stolen by a stallion like him? Not even that pony had ever kissed her, although she had so wanted him to. For it to be like this…

He blinked. “I already said. Because you’re cute, and I like you. Now, are we doing this thing, or not?”

“Definitely not,” Minty gritted her teeth. “And if you touch me again, I will kick you.”

“Alright, fine,” Thrash said, shrugging. “I was just trying to be friendly.”

“Save your ‘friendliness’ for your marefriend,” she hissed, fitting a new plug into the hole in the fuel cannister. “And I am going to talk to her about this behavior of yours, wait and see.”

“Fine,” he said, sounding unconcerned, even bored, “But I doubt she cares. She’s still with me, after all.”

Minty tossed her head in frustration and filled her cannister.

Full darkness had fallen by the time they made it back. Minty’s neck strained at the weight she carried, trying to keep it from bumping the ground or her legs, either of which would risk one of her improvised earthen plugs coming loose. Thrash dragged his can behind him. They found the tank draped over with branches and small trees, nothing that would hide it from prying eyes in daylight, but enough to confuse its outline from a distance. The darker metal speckles of bullet impacts on the armor helped conceal it further in a kind of accidental spotted camouflage.

As they approached, Minty’s simmering anger only increased. Someone had built a large campfire nearby the tank, in front of Summer’s tent, and it was an invitingly bright beacon to anyone who might be in the woods that night, or in the sky, for that matter. It was bad enough that fool unicorn had to put up her tent, and now this. But first things first.

“Hey, Supercharger,” she called out, approaching the engine deck and setting down her cannister. She rubbed her neck and winced. “Use this one to refill the radiator. I was able to get it here with some water in it, but the plugs won’t hold.”

There was no answer.

“Supercharger, you there?” she called out again, and the pegasus appeared.

“Oh, hey,” she said, “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

To Minty, she sounded awfully preoccupied. She moved closer, to avoid being overheard. “Are you doing okay?” she asked.

“Fine, fine. Just tired, that’s all. Been trying to work on the engine without parts, ha-ha.”

“If you say so.” Minty knew she was lying, but she didn’t want to press the issue just then, so she let it be.

With a dubious glance back, Minty left her and walked over to Cashmere, who was poking the fire with a stick held in her mouth. A small pot with two fresh dents in the side hung from a neat little frame of sticks, bubbling. Summer was nowhere to be seen; she had probably retired to her tent already.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Minty barked.

Cashmere jumped and spun around, dropping the stick. “Um, er, cooking up some supper for us?”

“No, you’re not,” Minty said, and Cashmere’s face fell.

“What you’re doing right now is letting everyone in this forest know exactly where we are. Didn’t I specifically say we should consider ourselves ‘behind enemy lines’?”

“I-I know, but Sergeant Meadows said-”

Minty narrowed her eyes and leaned in close. In a low voice, she hissed, “I don’t care what the sergeant said. She doesn’t know anything. You helped her set up her tent? Why didn’t you say anything to her like, say, ‘what if we get attacked suddenly’?”

“I thought-”

“Shut it. Get your e-tool and follow me.”

Cashmere swallowed and nodded. She scrambled off to the tank and climbed up to the turret box, suspended over the air on account of the turret being rotated to give access to the engine, and dug out her pack. She returned to an impatiently waiting Minty with a short spade held in her mouth.

Minty led her away to another stand of trees close by, thickly shrubbed with berry bushes. She stopped and pointed at some of the ripe berries. “Don’t even think about using these in the food,” she warned, “They won’t kill you, but they’re the worst thing you ever tasted.”

She found a spot that suited her and took the e-tool from Cashmere and started digging a hole. She made sure to keep the walls steep and dug it out to a depth of around two dozen centimeters. When it was done, she sank the spade into some moss with an air of finality and turned to Cashmere, who was fidgeting nearby, clearly unsure of what to do with herself.

“Build a fire in here. Keep it small, and only use dry, dead wood. The depression and the bushes should help hide the light the fire gives off, and the dry wood won’t have as much smoke. Got it?”

Cashmere nodded, and Minty fetched a burning branch. When she returned, she found Cashmere already had a firebed assembled. “Put that other one out,” she said, jerking her head at the bonfire, “don’t leave a trace of it. And fill this one in before we leave. Enemy territory, remember?”

She left Cashmere to tend the pot in her new location and went to find Thrash. She couldn’t find him anywhere in the local area, and she was afraid of what she might find if she checked on Supercharger, but just to be safe, she called out, “Enlisted Metal?”

“Yeah?” came his reply, from somewhere above her. She jerked her head up in surprise. He was sitting up on a thick branch high in one of the birch trees, leaning against the trunk with his pack as a pillow, cleaning his rifle again. The light of the campfire didn’t reach that far, so he must have been doing it in complete darkness.

Minty frowned up at him. “You’re on first watch. Wake Cashmere next, and I’ll take the last watch. Pass the watch order on.”

Thrash sighed. “Yes, sir. Your wish is my command.”

“Shut it and get down here. How did you get up there, anyway?”

“I’m part pegasus. It’s in my blood.”

“Oh, really,” Minty said flatly.

“…Not really. I climbed. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather keep watch up here. They won’t expect a pony in a tree.”

Minty had to privately agree that he had a point there. “Cashmere is making oat porridge,” she said, and walked away. She heard the sound of someone sliding down the tree behind her, and she rolled her eyes.

/ - / - / - / - /

Minty awoke to the sound of Cashmere’s soft voice saying, “Sir? Sir, wake up.” She sprang up, narrowly missing banging her head on the gun cradle, and Cashmere scrambled back across the turret floor.

“What is it? What happened?” Minty asked, looking around wildly, ears pricked for any sign of danger.

“You said you wanted to take the last watch,” Cashmere said uncertainly. She had an army blanket draped across her back, obviously intending to go to sleep right where she was.

“Oh. Right.” Minty sheepishly rubbed the sleep from her eyes, grabbed her carbine from where she kept it against the forward ammunition box, and climbed out of her hatch onto the front of the hull roof into the predawn darkness. Picking her way among the camouflage on the tank so as not to disturb it, she found the pot of oats next to Summer’s tent and ate most of what was left cold, leaving a little bit for somepony else.

Thrash had climbed another tree to sleep, one that overhung the tank, and below him, Supercharger sprawled out on the engine deck, snoring. There was no sign that any funny business occurred while she was sleeping, but she wasn’t very confident in that.

Minty found a place nearby, not too close, and sank down into the bushes to wait and watch. For some extra concealment, she pulled her grey service cap out of her pocket, broke off some twigs from nearby, and stuck them in the folds. She desperately wanted a smoke, but you never, ever smoked when you were on sentry duty. She suffered her cravings in silence and stillness.

As the sky lightened and the air warmed, mist started rolling off the nearby marshes, infiltrating the birch trees. It was a low-lying, flat forest, and it didn’t take long for visibility to be reduced substantially. She shivered at the clammy air. Then she heard hoofsteps through the still and misty air.

One of the crew returning from morning privy? But they were asleep just a few hours ago, and she hadn’t heard any of them stir… Standard procedure would be to call out a challenge the pony, but something about this felt wrong to her. She held her tongue and waited.

A moment later, she was glad she did; two shapes emerged from the mist, carrying rifles. She slowly sank lower into the bushes, praying they didn’t spot the movement. The pair of crystal ponies stalked by her hiding place, scanning the area around them, and then were lost again in the mist.

Minty waited, not trusting that they were just a couple of scouts, and sure enough, they were followed by a group of three soldiers, then three more. Behind them, she could dimly make out the shapes of more ponies moving through the mist. She hoped and prayed that none of them saw the tank, or Summer’s tent, and thought about what she would do if they did.

Thrash, they could have; Supercharger and Cashmere, they could not. They could maybe have Summer, but they shouldn’t. But there was her own life to consider, and it would do no good if she stood up and got herself killed in an attempt to stop the inevitable, so perhaps she should stay quiet. Then again, if they found the others, they might rightly assume it was one pony short of a bunch, and go looking for her, or they might recognize the tank by its appearance and hunt for the gunner…

A group crossing before her with a curious load interrupted her frantic indecision. They were a team of four crystal ponies harnessed to a small field cannon, and they were pulling it, keeping pace with the others, without much apparent effort. Following right after them was a single pony pulling an ordinary apple cart, probably taken from someone’s farm, laden with shells and other supplies.

Three more such groups passed her by this way, followed by a rearguard. No one seemed to have spotted her, and none of them raised a cry about a tank. When they were gone, she breathed out slowly, willing her pounding heart to calm down, and thanked her family for her forest-green coat that was nearly the same color as the bushes she hid in.

She stayed still in the chill dampness of the early morning for a very long time, long after she had seen the last crystal pony pass her by. Eventually, she got up stiffly, carbine at the ready, and when nothing moved, cautiously crossed to where she knew the tank was. It loomed up out of the thick mist as she approached it, a dark shape surrounded by small tree-shapes. Perhaps they had taken it for a large rock, or a dense stand of trees – she was just glad they hadn’t seen it.

She climbed onto the engine deck, knocking some of the cut trees aside, and prodded Supercharger with her hoof. “Hey. Wake up.”

“Whuhh?”

“We need to get moving. Right now. Fly up there and wake up Thrash and get ready to go. I’ll go wake the others.”

Without waiting for a response, she moved off. Something in her voice must have reached Supercharger, because Minty heard the sound of her wings snapping open and flapping experimentally behind her.

Just before she entered Summer’s tent, she hesitated. She thought she heard the sergeant moving around. Not wanting a repeat of yesterday, Minty cautiously cracked the tent flap aside instead and saw Summer squirming around on her bedding, muttering, “no… no…” in her sleep. Well, can’t be having that. She pushed her way inside and nudged Summer in the side, then nudged her again.

She knew Summer was awake when she stopped moving. Clearing her throat, Minty said, “We need to go, ma’am.”

Summer blinked up at Minty and dug her watch out of her pocket. “Why, so we do. Let’s go.”

Cashmere was already awake, and leaning out of the right-hoof turret hatch with her hooves draped over the opening. “Help her get the tent taken down and stowed,” Minty ordered, “I’ll erase the fire.”

This time, it wasn’t nearly as long until they were moving again.

Comments

[bkam]

I definitely was not expecting that to come out of Misty's backstory.

[shining paladin]

sweet chapter mate